Robert Heinlein: The Rolling Stones

Hazel look at him pityingly. "You've been losing sleep lately? It's obvious - only four couches."

"Oh." Castor switched on his radio and silently followed his brother and father to the ground.

Etched on the stern of the next ship they visited was Cherub, Roma, Terra, and she actually was of the Carlotti Motors Angel series, though she resembled very little the giant Archangels, She was short - barely a hundred fifty feet high - and slender, and she was at least twenty years old. Mr. Stone had been reluctant to inspect her. "She's too big for us," he protested, "and I'm not looking for a cargo ship."

"Too big how?" Hazel asked '"Too big" is a financial term, not a matter of size. And with her cargo hold empty, think how lively she'll be. I like a ship that jumps when I twist its tail - and so do you."

"Mmmm, yes," he admitted. "Well, I suppose it doesn't cost anything to look her over."

"You're talking saner every day, son." Hazel reached for the rope ladder.

The ship was old and old-fashioned and she had plied many a lonely million miles of space, but, thanks to the preservative qualities of the Moon's airless waste, she had not grown older since the last time her jets bad blasted. She had simply slumbered timelessly, waiting for someone to come along and appreciate her sleeping beauty. Her air had been. salvaged; there was no dust in her compartments. Many of her auxiliary fittings had been stripped and sold, but she herself was bright and clean and spaceworthy.

The light Hazel could see in her son's eyes she judged to be love at first sight. She hung back and signalled the twins to keep quiet. The open airlock had let them into the living quarters; a galley-saloon, two little staterooms, and a bunkroom. The control room was separate, above them, and was a combined conn. & comm. Roger Stone immediately climbed into it.

Below the quarters was the cargo space and below that the power room. The little ship was a passenger-carrying freighter, conversely a passenger ship with cargo space; it was this dual nature which had landed her, an unwanted orphan, in Dealer Dan's second-hand lot. Too slow when carrying cargo to compete with the express liners, she could carry too few passengers to make money without a load of freight, Although of sound construction she did not fit into the fiercely competi­tive business world.

The twins elected to go on down into the power room. Hazel poked around the living quarters, nodded approvingly at the galley, finally climbed up into the control room. There she found her son stretched out in the pilot's couch and fingering the controls. Hazel promptly swung herself into the co-pilot's couch, settled down in the bare rack - the pneumatic pads were missing - and turned her head toward Roger Stone. She called out 'All stations manned and ready, Captain !"

He looked at her and grinned. "Stand by to raise ship!"

She answered, "Board green! Clear from tower! Ready for count off!"

"Minus thirty! Twenty-nine - twenty-eight –" He broke off and added sheepishly, "It does feel good."

"You're dern tootin' it does. Let's grab ourselves a chunk of it before we're too old. This city life is getting us covered with moss."

Roger Stone swung his long legs out of the pilot's couch. "Um, maybe we should. Yes, we really should."

Hazel's booted feet hit the deck plates by his. "That's my boy! I'll raise you up to man size yet. Let's go see what the twins have taken apart."

The twins were still in the power room. Roger went down first; he said to Castor, "Well, son, how does it look? Will she raise high enough to crash?"

Castor wrinkled his forehead. "We haven't found anything wrong, exactly, but they've taken her boost units out. The pile is just a shell."

Hazel said, "What do you expect? For 'em to leave "hot" stuff sitting in a decommissioned ship? In time the whole stern would be radioactive, even if somebody didn't steal it.

Her son answered, "Quit showing off, Hazel, Cas knows that. We'll check the log data and get a metallurgical report later - if we ever talk business."

Hazel answered, "King's knight to queen bishop five. What's the matter, Roger? Cold feet?"

"No, I like this ship... but I don't know that I can pay for her. And even if she were a gift, it will cost a fortune to over­haul her and get her ready for space."

"Pooh! I'll run the overhaul myself, with Cas and Pol to do the dirty work. Won't cost you anything but dockage. As for the price, we'll burn that bridge when we come to it."

"I'll supervise the overhaul, myself."

"Want to fight? Let's go down and find out just what inflated notions Dan Ekizian has this time. And remember - let me do the talking."

"Now wait a minute - I never said I was going to buy this bucket."

"Who said you were? But it doesn't cost anything to dicker. I can make Dan see reason."

Dealer Dan Ekizian was glad to see them, doubly so when he found that they were interested, not in the Detroiter VII, but in a larger, more expensive ship. At Hazel's insistence she and Ekizian went into his inner office alone to discuss prices. Mr. Stone let her get away with it, knowing that his mother drove a merciless bargain. The twins and he waited outside for quite a while; presently Mr. Ekizian called his office girl in.

She came out a few minutes later, to be followed shortly by Ekizian and Hazel. "It's all settled," she announced, looking smug.

The dealer smiled grudgingly around his cigar. "Your mother is a very smart woman, Mister Mayor."

"Take it easy!" Roger Stone protested. "You are both mixed up in your timing. I'm no longer mayor, thank heaven - and nothing is settled yet. What are the terms?"

Ekizian glanced at Hazel, who pursed her lips. "Well, now, son," she said slowly, "it's like this. I'm too old a woman to fiddle around. I might die in bed, waiting for you to consider all sides of the question. So I bought it"

" You?"

" For all practical purposes. It's a syndicate. Dan puts up the ship; I wangle the cargo - and the boys and I take the stuff out to the Asteroids for a fat profit. I've always wanted to be a skipper."

Castor and Pollux had been lounging in the background, listening and watching faces. At Hazel's announcement Pollux started to speak; Castor caught his eye and shook his head. Mr. Stone said explosively, "That's preposterous! I won't let you do it"

"I'm of age, son." -

"Mr. Ekizian, you must be out of your mind."

The dealer took his cigar and stared at the end of it. "Busi­ness is business."

"Well...at least you won't get my boys mixed up in it That's out!"

"Mmm... " said Hazel. "Maybe. Maybe not. Let's ask them."

"They're not of age."

"No... not quite. But suppose they went into court and asked that I be appointed their guardian?"

Mr. Stone listened to this quietly, then turned to his sons.'Cas... Pol... did you frame this with your grandmother?"

Pollux answered, "No, sir."

"Would you do what she suggests?"

Castor answered, "Now, Dad, you know we wouldn't like to do anything like that."

"But would you do it, eh?"

"I didn't say so, sir."

"Hmm – " Mr. Stone turned back. "This is pure blackmail - and I won't stand for it. Mr. Ekizian, you knew that I came in here to bid on that ship. You knew that my mother was to bargain for it as my agent. You both knew that - but you made a deal behind my back. Now either you set that so-called deal aside and we start over - or I haul both of you down to the Better Business Bureau.

Hazel was expressionless; Mr. Ekizan examined his rings.

"There's something in what you say, Mr. Stone. Suppose we go inside and talk it over?"

"I think we had better."

Hazel followed them in and plucked at her son's sleeve before he had a chance to start anydung. "Roger? You really want to buy this ship?"