Deader Than a Triton Moon By Jason Fry

Solo gripped the tauntauns hide, his numbed fingers searching for even the slightest indication of life. Deader
than a Triton moon, he said, knowing Luke did not hear a word. We havent got much time. The Empire Strikes
Back (novelization).
The One Two Many was three hours out of Injopan and bearing down on the Maw when the ships boy burst into the
lounge with his latest discovery. It was a book a book full of mysterious verses, and some big bug in Injopan High
Port had just handed it to him.
Five of the six Corellians in the One Two Manys lounge immediately turned away from Janzel Helot and his find
theyd only crewed half a Kessel Run with this particular ships boy, and his breathless discoveries and questions
could already have filled the bulk freighters holds to overflowing. But Shandy Fanaso spared what was clamped in
Janzels fist a glance a glance that immediately became a glower.
You dimwitted barve, thats not a book thats a tract, he growled, taking the flimsi pages out of the boys hand
and gazing at the blotchy printing in disgust. A tract of Gactimus. Kid, you keep taking things bugs hand out in
spaceports and youll wake up in a cage on Trandosha.
You mean you know what this is, Mr. Fanaso? Janzel asked, wide-eyed, paging through the tract that the
smuggler handed back to him. Listen, its the weirdest thing Thus transitioned Gactimus.
Fanaso waved him silent and shut his eyes for a moment. Then he began to speak:
Thus transitioned Gactimus,
Whose mind embraced clarity,
Where once his feet had embraced toil.
Quiet were his mindly manifestations,
Silent was his contented soul.
Thats right! interjected Janzel, whod been reading along in fascination and was now running his finger down
the next page. What does it mean? Its amazing.
Its bilge, Fanaso said. And it doesnt mean anything. What in the name of the Emperors black bones are mindly
manifestations? How do feet embrace something? And it actually gets worse the rest of its like reading a recipe
for Kubaz stew. I told those bugs they needed to hire a real translator if they wanted anyone to actually adopt their
faith, but of course they didnt listen.
Mr. Fanaso? Janzel looked shocked. Youre a a follower of this Gactimus?
That drew braying laughter from the smugglers, whod been snickering and elbowing each other since the moment
Fanaso snatched the tract away from Janzel.
Shandys practically the high priest, said Devoris, one of the load tenders. Go on, Shandy. Tell the kid how you
became the grand high poobah of the bugs. Might teach him a thing or two.
Fanasos eyes flickered from his now-grinning shipmates to the hypnotized ships boy and the tract in his hand,
then down at the pitted durasteel deck of the One Two Many.
All right, kid. He sighed. It started when I was young and stupid like you, and found myself on one of the Triton
moons.
* * *
Shandy Fanaso killed the light hauler Corellian Gambits engines and unlimbered its triangle of landing gear the
moment he felt the faint shiver of the patrol cruisers tractor beams locking onto his craft. The planet Triton was a
brilliant yellow half-circle out his viewport, attended by a trio of dull gray satellites. A yawning Fanaso regarded the
scene until the metal walls of the cruisers docking bay crawled down over the transparisteel and hid the view. A
moment later the Corellian Gambit settled to the deck with a thump and Fanaso headed aft, rubbing his eyes.
The Imperial officer who ascended the gangplank was checking his datapad as he came; he gave Fanaso a cursory
once-over before looking back down at the data his unit was receiving from the Corellian Gambits navicomputer.
Fanaso, huh? Lieutenant Gallagane. Checking in at Triton en route to the Pangarees, right? Any additional cargo
not on the manifest?
Nope. Replacement arms for agri-droids, couple of freezers full of bruallki, a few courier orders placed by Eriadu
Pay-and-Fetch.
That your port of origin, Eriadu? Forgot to file that on your flight plan, Fanaso.
I did? Sorry! Oversight, sir.
Gallagane glanced up from the pad at Fanaso. Dont worry about it, kid Ill just change it and back-date it. This
your first time in-system?
Yes, sir.
Bring any holos with you? Its a long wait, you know.
Sir? No sir. Ive got no holos, sir.
Gallaganes datapad beeped; he clipped it back onto his belt and peered at Fanaso. Youre cleared for a berth at
Triton Besh your navicomputer has the vector. Customs tax will be added to your tithe. You realize theres four
days processing time for a tithe receipt, dont you, Fanaso? No? Well, now you do. Next time I see you inbound, I
guarantee youll have a few holos. They dont say deader than a Triton moon for nothing, you know.
Fanaso scrubbed a hand through his lank black hair and grinned at Gallagane. The older man didnt seem like a bad
sort for an Imp he could have fined him for the missing information on the flight plan. Sir, long as theyve got a
cantina, Im good for four days or 40. Know what I mean, sir?
The corners of Gallaganes mouth twitched upward.
Theyve got a cantina, Fanaso. Next time I see you, you tell me how you liked it. And do yourself a favor, kid: When
you touch down, your bug will hand you the Rules of Law for the Domains of Triton. It might seem like silly stuff, but
there are a few dinkos in all those details. So read carefully, got that? Clear skies.
Clear skies, sir, Fanaso said. He was still wondering what Gallagane had meant about the Rules of Law when the
Corellian Gambit cleared the cruisers bay and he kicked in the sublights, handing the controls over to the
navicomputer for the approach to Triton.
The funny thing was he wasnt originally supposed to be within 100 light years of Triton. Hed been headed farther
rimward along the Rimma Trade Route, contracted to haul a hold of chak-root liqueur to the back end of the Minos
Cluster, but his cargo had never arrived he was cooling his heels at Eriadu when word came that the incoming
hauler had a burnout a day out of Sukkult. So hed worked the general-cargo area of the port and picked up a few
loads for shipment to the Pangarees, with the promise of a few more coming back the other way. Eleven days
travel in all a lot faster going in through Triton, the general-hire agent had told him around his cigarra. So Triton
it was.
A hooting klaxon told him he was on final approach to Triton Besh he glanced out the viewport, watched the
dingy gray moon grow nearer. Any details of its surface were lost against the brilliant glow of Triton, whose
windswept deserts blasted reflected sunlight back out into space. As Fanaso watched, his navicomputer painted a
green cross on the viewport. Eventually the cross bracketed a featureless rectangle of pounded duracrete, one of
many connected by white snaking lines of pressurized prefab corridors that met up here and there with the
blisters of atmosphere domes. The Corellian Gambit touched down with a jitter of retrorockets. At the lock, Fanaso
put his eye to the port, watched the flexible white arm of an umbilical corridor extend itself from the port and feel
for his outer hatch. The lock indicator glowed green and he thumbed the hatch open.
Fanaso tramped the 12-meter length of the umbilical impatiently. A bug waited at the end, just beyond the flexible
walls in the corridor of Triton Besh Port proper. The bug was more than two meters of glistening yellowish chitin,
standing on two fibrous zig-zag legs. More spiny limbs far too many of them for Fanasos taste emerged from a
seam on its mailed belly, twitching and rotating. Its head was a wedge of ivory bisected by a deep central notch;
inside were gleams and flurries of movement that Fanaso found vaguely nauseating. A simple canvas carryall looped
around the bugs head and hung halfway down its thorax. An alarming clicking and rasping began somewhere
beneath the chitin. A translator Fanaso couldnt see squealed to life, the words a grating drone.
Vv. Fanaso, in the tradition of Gactimus you are bade earnest welcome to the threshold of the Domains of Triton,
the bug said, the speech accompanied by twitchings of the multi-jointed limbs. One limb dipped into the carryall
and emerged with a thick sheaf of foolscap. Please accept the kindly embrace of the Rules of Law. As a courtesy
you are to be informed that 14 changes have been codified in the preceding nine standard sidereal timeparts,
pursuant to branches.
Fanaso took the papers gingerly and thumbed through them as the bug rattled and clanked on. He tried a page at
random and blinked in dismay: It was a discussion, rendered in some kind of pidgin Basic, of the urgency of
maintaining a hatch seal between the umbilical and the ships lock something any ships boy learned in his first
hour above the atmosphere. Fanaso flipped to another section and found a lecture about the perils of harboring
poisonous vermin.
If this is the advanced spacers manual, Id hate to see the basic, Fanaso said with a grin, thrusting the hundreds
of pages back at the armored chest. The bug paused in its recitation of new codifications and swiveled its head in a
matter that would have broken Fanasos neck instantly.
Are you in possession of manifest? Are you wishing to arrange cargo tithe presently? it asked, a collection of
smaller limbs waving in what Fanaso eventually decided was a refusal to take back the Rules of Law.
Fanaso tossed the papers back into the umbilical and patted his datapad. Cargo tithe? Now youre talking lets
make tracks.
He took a step forward, into the corridor, then jumped back with a cry of surprise the bug had moved with
uncanny speed, whipping a tertiary limb into its bag and thrusting something new at his chest.
Apologies for any startlement, it said. Now that you have performed liminal transition from the umbilical you
are formally occupying the Domains of Triton. Thus you are eligible to receive joyous instruction in the tenets of
Gactimus.
The new thing thrust at him, Fanaso saw, was a sloppily bound collection of a dozen or so pages. Puzzled, he
peered at the first line:
Thus transitioned Gactimus
No thanks, friend. Im a little late for saving, Fanaso said. Now where do I fork over this cargo tithe of yours?
There will be pleasure in guiding you, the bug said, letting several more legs swing down to the dingy floor but
leaving Fanaso clutching the tract. And during the journey there will be pleasure in instructing you in the verses of
Gactimus and leading you to edification.
* * *
Fanaso couldnt tell how far away the cargo-tithe office was, exactly, but it had to be several kilometers. The bug
its name was something like Mactimentus, or at least it didnt correct Fanaso when he called it that continued
clattering away about Gactimus the entire way, about his contented soul and the mental embrace of clarity and a
bunch of other stuff that Fanaso tried his best to shut out. The corridors were dotted with other umbilicals
connected to other ships; now and again Fanaso and his companion passed other sour-faced spacers humans,
Twileks, Houks and members of species Fanaso had never seen before, each of them attended by a chattering bug.
Only one thing got Fanaso through the trip the sight of a broad passageway into a dim atmospheric dome,
outside of which a cluster of bugs waited silently. Fanaso peered into the domes gloom and saw spacers hunched
over a long low counter. A cantina definitely a cantina.
Hey, Mac, time out, Fanaso said, putting his hands together in a shockball referees signal. The cargo-tithe can
wait while we stop in for a frosty Elba or two, cant it?
Mactimentus limbs fluttered with some indefinable emotion. The Rules of Law do not consider the cantina part of
the Domains of Triton, it clattered. Under the embrace of the Law your sojourn there must be unaccompanied.
That is a shame, Fanaso said. So thats why all you fellas are waiting in the hall. Well, Ill just be a minute
However, Mactimentus grated, only scrip of the Domains of Triton is transferable for cantina goods and
services. Scrip of the Domains of Triton can only be obtained
Let me guess at the cargo-tithe office, Fanaso muttered, then shrugged. Ah well. You know what they say: You
cant see Kuat until youve seen Horthav. Lead on.
There will be pleasure in doing so. As Gactimus intoned during the Episode of the Peregrinating Pilgrims.
Fanaso offered the cantina a gloomy parting glance and trudged along beside his bug. Mactimentus spent their
hour in line at the tithing office doing what all the other spacers bugs had been doing reciting the 20 verses of
the tract hed given Fanaso and trying to get the spacer to recite them with him. Fanaso demurred with decreasing
politeness, thinking instead of Elba beer and whether the juke would have a holo of Diast Kloo Army burning
through Stardance. Finally he reached the head of the line and paid over his cargo-tithe and customs tax to a bug
with a piebald yellow-and-brown shell.
Receipt shall be delivered to your umbilical by your monitor in four days, the bug intoned. This receipt will be
collected at the hyperspace jump point to the Pangarees and a legal passage recorded.
By the time they got to the cantina Fanaso was feeling somewhat cross: Mactimentuss ceaseless rattling was giving
him a headache, and hed heard the first few verses of Gactimus so many times that he was pretty sure he could
have recited them himself. Leaving Mactimentus in the corridor, Fanaso eased himself gratefully onto a stool
halfway down the counter.
Elba beer, a frosty one, he said.
Instantly he was surrounded by laughter. Even the bartender, a surly blank-faced man, was guffawing.
Aint no Elba here, you nerf pup, a one-eyed, jowly spacer at his left elbow said.
OK then, Ill take a Treffanian ale
No intoxicants of any kind, the bartender said above the laughter. Not even coffeine, on account of its a
stimulant. Just canned juice and distilled water. Take your pick.
Are you kidding me?
Rules of Law, section 43-4, kid, the bartender said. Possession of intoxicants and stimulants is proscribed
within the Domains of Triton. Thats the short version it takes the bugs pages to say the simplest thing.
Fanaso looked around the cantina. Gimme some quarter-cred chits, then. I hope youve got a little Diast Kloo on
that pathetic-looking juke over there.
Jukes broken. And if it werent, you wouldnt hear nothing but verses of Gactimus. In fact, kid, thats why its
broken. And why itll get broken again a couple of minutes after the bugs order me to fix it.
No music?
Section 44-2. Music is considered a stimulant by the Domains.
You got tabletop sabacc? Pack of elanthie cards? Pair of dice?
Section 46-9.
Oh, forget it.
Fanaso put his head in his hands for a long moment. When he looked up, the one-eyed spacer was morosely
sipping his distilled water and the bartender was flicking at hypothetical dust motes with a rag.
If theres no booze, cards or tunes, what in the name of Bartolps Last Bounce are you all doing here? Fanaso
demanded.
You know why everyones bugs are waiting outside? the bartender asked. Because the corridors are considered
part of the Domains of Triton. The only exceptions are this cantina, the freshers, your ships and the umbilicals.
That means the bugs cant go any of those places, cant give you tracts, cant babble on about kriffing Gactimus.
Anywhere else, youre fair game.
But theres no booze, no music, no nothing. Why even leave your ship?
Got a jet-juice problem Im trying to kick, the old spacer at Fanasos elbow said. Unless you can afford the rest
cure on Ottabesk, this is the best place in the galaxy to get clean.
Myself, Ive been dry for six standard years and forty-four days, the bartender asked. Got a cooler of your Elba
beer back on your ship, kid?
Fanaso shook his head forlornly.
Didnt think so. Youll be back too, then.
Wait a minute. If this isnt part of the Domains, the Rules of Law dont apply, right?
Right. No bugs, no preaching.
So how is this place any different from a dive on the Smugglers Moon? Fanaso asked. Whats stopping you from
having Twilek girls pour Elba into your mouths while they play a little acoustic Ommni box?
Well, besides the indecency laws thats section 53-2 the operative word is possession. I could bring in the kegs
no problem, but the second I rolled them out of my umbilical Id be in violation of the Rules of Law and have to pay
an Emperors ransom in tithes or offer devotion-service, which is worse. Right, Kiardi?
Right, Saman. It used to be worse, kid, the jowly spacer said around his distilled water. Ten years ago the bugs
tried to say that intoxicants in your belly counted as possession. If you stepped off your ship and werent sober as a
Jedi, you were taking a big risk. Once they made me pay tithe for humming.
So what happened?
Traffic dried up, Saman said. Only other way into the Pangarees is up the Rimma all the way to Corlaasi, then
along the Dravin Cut to the Chundu Shunt
Thats a hike, Fanaso said with a low whistle.
Sure is, Kiardi said. Five extra days, even considering the wait for the tithe receipts. But everyone was willing to
hoof it once the bugs started breath-testing in the corridors. Nowadays, theres a balance. They get their tithes and
a few days to try to edify us, we save a little time and get distilled water and juice.
Kiardi toasted Saman, who nodded back. Fanaso glowered out into the corridor where Mactimentus stood at
least he thought it was Mactimentus. It would be a long four days, he thought.
Then he had an idea.
* * *
Lieutenant Gallagane glanced at his datapad, then looked again, brow furrowed.
Your manifests glitched, kid, he said. And sos your flight plan again. Says here your destination is Triton and
youre carrying nothing for transshipment.
No glitch, sir, Fanaso said, grinning hugely where he stood at the foot of the Corellian Gambits gangplank. Come
up and see.
Standing in the hold, Gallagane regarded the kegs of Elba beer, Treffanian ale, jumbli juice, the mixers, the fizz
cartridges. He eyed the jukebox, complete with three versions ofStardance. He frowned at the bored Twilek girl
smoking a cigarra actually, Fanaso had to admit, there were a few too many years on those lekku for girl to
really be the best term where she sat on the boxes of heff-nuts. He cocked his head at the brilliant red banner
reading Shandys Place Leave Your Tracts at the Door.
Fanaso, the Rules of Law
The Rules of Law dont apply until you set foot outside of the umbilical and enter the Domains of Triton, sir,
Fanaso said. And Im not doing that. Not one keg, not one recording, not one lekku-ribbon is leaving the Corellian
Gambit. So the bugs can take the Rules of Law and their tracts of Gactimus and use them for their egg-nests, for all it
matters to me. Right, sir?
Except for the fact, Fanaso, that the umbilical and your ship are considered Imperial space, and so
And so that I need this, sir, Fanaso said, pointing to a framed document hed bolted to the bulkhead. A cabaret
license. Good for celestial bodies, space stations and starships in Mayagil sector within 15 light years of the Rimma
Trade Route for one year, sir.
Gallagane took off his olive cap and scratched his head.
Very well, Fanaso. I hope you know what youre doing.
Oh, I do, sir. Im going to the Triton moons to get rich its going to be wonderful. Fanaso grinned and even
winked at the Twilek, who shrugged and blew a trio of smoke rings.
* * *
The bug was still waiting when Fanaso finally got everything set up in the hold and marched down the umbilical
with his banner and two nodes of Stick-2-It. Its limbs twirled in an odd arpeggio of greeting, worry, religious fervor
or some unknowable bug emotion.
Vv. Fanaso, in the tradition of Gactimus you are offered a surfeit of joys in observation of your return to the
threshold of the Domains of Triton.
Fanaso looked up from trying to find a place to attach the other node of Stick-2-It and peered at the patterns on
the bugs shell. Mactimentus? Hey pera, hows the tract trade?
It is the greatest of pleasure to be your monitor on this and all subsequent sojourns in the Domains of Triton as
you advance toward a full understanding of the teachings of Gactimus, Mactimentus clattered, reaching into its
carryall. Please once again accept the kindly embrace of the Rules of Law. Again as a courtesy you are to be
informed that two changes have been codified in the two-thirds of a standard sidereal timepart since your last visit

Fanaso straightened his banner and tossed the now-familiar sheaf of papers into the umbilical. Ill give that the
once-over later, old pal. First lets get our feet embracing a little toil Ive got an errand to run down at the
cantina.
Mactimentus, who had been dipping into its carryall for a tract, hesitated in puzzlement, head wheeling from the
tract to Fanaso to the banner. There is no possession of manifest? First we must arrange cargo-tithe, is it not so?
It is not so. Youll see.
* * *
The real wonder, Fanaso mused, was that no one had thought of it before. From his post behind the makeshift bar
in the Corellian Gambits hold, he smiled at the knots of laughing spacers and at the Twilek girl, cigarra thankfully
discarded, doing the veil-dance to the strains of Stardance (Rodia Remix). Hed made back his investment a week ago
and still had enough liquor and mixers for three or four more days. In fact, he stood to make more on this one run
than he would have on three trips to the Pangarees and with considerably less time and effort.
Hey, Saman, could you take over a moment?
Saman nodded, although he was a bit in his cups. That stirred a vague feeling of guilt somewhere in Fanaso. Ah well,
he thought, I didnt twist his arm. He figured hed better head down the umbilical to check on the bugs
Mactimentuss behavior in particular was beginning to trouble him.
The sounds of merriment were only faintly audible at the umbilicals threshold. Outside, in the corridor, the two
dozen bugs assigned to the spacers aboard the Corellian Gambit waited as silently as they had outside the cantina.
Four other bugs with spotted armor stood around Mactimentus, gesticulating with their limbs and clattering a
stream of rapid-fire gibberish. Mactimentuss chitin was dull; Fanaso might have been imagining it, but he thought
the armor appeared to be flaking here and there.
Mactimentus turned to Fanaso, limbs whirring in what Fanaso was pretty sure was agitation.
Again it is said to you you are the creator of an immorality. The candidates upon abandoning sojourn in your
domain are obstreperous and resistant to edification. It is a situation rapidly approaching a level of intolerability.
You are once again inveighed to abandon this campaign of spiritual non-enablement and carefully consider the
teachings of Gactimus.
The bugs around Mactimentus assaulted it with a fusillade of sounds like dropped plates. Mactimentuss limbs hung
limply from the slot in its thorax.
Now, dont be too hard on ol Mac, Fanaso told them. I know you guys are steamed that Ive taken your pilgrims
or whatever they are, but think about it this way: Today youre getting, say, a hundred spacers a week for that walk
to the cargo-tithe office. Let people know about Shandys Place and you might get five hundred. Thats a lot more
candidates to edify, right? And like I told my pal Mactimentus here, if youll tell me who to chat with, Im sure we
could work out an arrangement giving the Domains some percentage of the till. If I give you, say, one percent in
exchange for an exclusive deal, you wont believe how many tracts you can print. I tell you, fellas, were sitting on a
fortune here
The biggest bug of the lot pushed Mactimentus aside, grating and clanking at Fanaso. Its translator whirred to life:
Heterodox alien provocateur, your mercantile schemes arouse no affinity with us. Your activities bring shame
upon the egg-nest of your monitor.
The bug squealed at its fellows, who marched off in formation, leaving Mactimentus twitching in dismay.
Cheer up, Mac, Fanaso said. Ive got an idea. Gimme some tracts I know you cant come into the ship, but Ill
put some on the bar for people to read. Nothing like a good Elba to make the mind suggestible. And next time Im
here
Next time? Mactimentuss translator delivered the words in the same flat monotone as always, but they sounded
different. Somehow it sounded less like a question than a wail.
* * *
This time, Gallagane had to come over on his patrol cruisers pinnance Shandys Pleasure Palace was too big to fit in
the cruisers docking bay. In fact, the Whaladon-class container ship was the biggest vessel that would fit on one of
Triton Beshs duracrete pads.
Shes a rusty old scow took me a week to get her here but since shes not going anywhere else, it doesnt much
matter, Fanaso said as the Imperial officer surveyed the kegs and crates stacked in the cavernous hold. Four
Twilek girls this time the term most definitely applied, and none of them smoked could be heard rehearsing
their dance steps in the forward lounge.
You made more money than I thought, Gallagane said. A container ship isnt cheap.
Fanaso shrugged. I took out a loan. The interest rates a killer, but thats business. Theres a lot of money to be
made, but that means a lot more entrepreneurs. I dont have a lot of time before competitors come in, so Ive got to
get while the gettings good.
Gallagane shook his head.
All Ill say is this, kid: Your conduct has aroused the attention of the highest-ranking monitors in the Domains.
Read the Rules of Law and read them carefully.
Ill double-check my hatch seals, Fanaso said with a grin. And I already looked for poisonous vermin.
Remember the dinkos, Gallagane said. Well, clear skies, Fanaso. Im expecting an errand of my own on Triton
Besh today.
Ill have a cold Elba for you if you come by the Pleasure Palace, Fanaso said.
Thats a distinct possibility, Gallagane called back over his shoulder.
* * *
When Fanaso got to the end of the umbilical there was already a crowd of spacers and bugs waiting in fact, a
ragged cheer greeted him. He grinned and waved his new banner in reply.
Let me get this up and well be officially open for business, he said.
Mactimentus thrust the Rules of Law at him without comment and Fanaso thumbed through it, looking for an
index or some other way of finding out what had changed. Two of the oversized bug leaders were standing back in
the crowd, holding some sort of metal rods tipped with feathery antennae. The crowd, Fanaso noted, was getting
somewhat unruly as he scanned the first page of the Rules of Law. Behind him, in the depths of the Pleasure Palace,
the music started up. He looked back and saw one of the Twilek girls peek through the hatch, sleek lekku
twitching.
That was too much for the crowd: A spacer pushed by him, then another, then two more, then three more, then as
many as could fit in the umbilical.
Hey, youre on the honor system until I get the register open, Fanaso called out after them, looking around in
hopes that Saman was nearby. The Rules of Law seemed different a new printing technique, maybe? Different
flimsiplast?
Hed flipped through the papers once when one of the metal rods carried by the bugs began keening. Mactimentus
and the bug leaders clattered at each other; then Mactimentuss translator powered up.
Horrid meatbag, it said. You are in violation of all 43 instances of the Rules of Law changed in the one and
one-sixth standard sidereal timeparts since your last visit.
What? Mac, why didnt you tell me? You cant just shove this stuff at me. Its its discourteous, is what it is.
No courtesy is required to be extended to such as you, Mactimentus grated, his eyes glittering somewhere
beneath his armored head-shell. Fanaso began backing down the umbilical, wondering if the bugs would follow.
They didnt; instead, a familiar figure in Imperial olive shouldered his way past them.
Lieutenant Gallagane! Thank the. Fanasos words died in his throat as he saw the look on Gallaganes face.
Behind him came stormtroopers six of them. Two came to a halt beside Fanaso and Gallagane, who almost gently
took the Rules of Law from Fanasos grip. The other four stormtroopers kept marching up the umbilical and into
the Pleasure Palace. A few moments later the music came to an abrupt halt.
I told you the dinko was in the details, Gallagane said. They changed the Rules on you, Fanaso. Youre guilty of
importing intoxicants and stimulants to the Domains of Triton that analyzer back there will record sufficient
trace elements of Elba beer, coffeine and nondistilled juices to place you in violation of 12 statutes. The other
sensor will show that music was audible in the corridor thats another five. And there are six recently-introduced
statutes that deal solely with the display of banners visible from the Domains.
Lieutenant, I was trying to read them they rushed right past me.
Im afraid failure to provide proper security for a gathering is also punishable under a recently codified statute.
Fanaso scrubbed at his chin, hearing the babble of angry spacers from the Pleasure Palace. OK, OK. What do I do?
Pay over a tithe? I can do that. Let me talk to Mac and those big bugs. Well work something out.
The penalties, as it happens, are also set by new statutes in the Rules, Fanaso. First off, confiscation of all
proscribed substances, including their means of conveyance. Thats the ship and most everything in it. It belongs
to the Domains now.
What?
The remaining fines arent remittable by tithe. Only devotion-service. The hierarchs of the Domains have asked
me to explain the nature of this devotion-service to you, to ensure that it is clear.
Gallagane took a small sheaf of papers from his pocket. It was a tract, Fanaso saw the same tract of Gactimus hed
been given the minute he set foot in Triton Besh Port.
It seems that the Domains statute-approved cantina has had chronic problems with its jukebox, Gallagane said.
Since the hierarchs and their acolytes cannot legally enter the cantina, there has been no way to spread the word
of Gactimus to the spacers who spend time there. It is a problem that has concerned the hierarchs for some time.
Spacers began filing down the umbilical, past Fanaso, Gallagane and the stormtroopers. Some shot him looks of
anger, others glances of pity. One wild-eyed spacer was using his fingers to transfer the last bubbles of Elba foam
from his beard to his mouth.
Your devotion-service shall be to recite the verses of Gactimus in the cantina, so that your fellow spacers may be
enlightened, Gallagane said. You will read for nine hours a day over three three-hour shifts, using an amplified
system that will be provided by the hierarchs. You will be at liberty every sixth day, though you will be restricted to
the Domains of Triton, the cantina and the freshers. A cot will be provided for you in a storage room adjoining the
cantina, as will rations and whatever juice and distilled water you desire.
Fanaso studied the tract numbly, gazing at that first line in disbelief:
Thus transitioned Gactimus
This may sound harsh, Fanaso, but the hierarchs have agreed that your devotion-time shall be complete when you
finish the initiation every candidate for junior monitor undergoes. Namely, you shall recite the saga of Gactimuss
enlightenment, subject to the proper parameters of pronunciation and intonation, 500 times.
Fanaso thumbed through the tract, found he already half-knew some of the 20 verses from hearing Mactimentus
chattering his way through them in the cargo-tithe office. Five hundred times was annoying, but hardly intolerable.
Even if they were picky about pronunciation, he figured he could manage that over a few days, though he didnt
even want to know how his throat would feel when he was done. What he would do when his backers found
Shandys Pleasure Palace and everything else had been seized was a bigger problem. A much bigger problem.
Come on, Fanaso, Gallagane said, not unkindly, steering him by the elbow past the pair of stormtroopers.
Mactimentus will take it from here. Youve got the first tract, hes got the next few. Hell bring the rest of the tracts
to the cantina as you need them.
OK, that sounds what?
Gallagane shook his head sadly. This is the first tract of Gactimus, kid. The one they hand to the uninitiated, with
the first 20 verses of the saga.
The saga? How how many tracts are there?
Three hundred and thirteen. When youve read the entire saga 500 times, youll be free to go.
* * *
Janzel Helot looked from the laughing crew of the One Two Many to the tract in Fanasos hand, his mouth moving.
And you wondered why ol Shandy dont like to gab, kid, crowed Devoris. Now you know why hes all
talked-out.
Bug got his tongue, another smuggler offered.
Five hundred times? How long did that take you, Mr. Fanaso?
Tell him how long, Shandy, Devoris said.
Fanaso had done the math on his datapad, sitting in the cantina with the first tract while one of Gallaganes
technicians set up the amplifier. He shut his eyes at the memory of watching the numbers grow as he tapped in the
dreadful calculations: 313 tracts multiplied by 20 verses was 6,260 verses in all. And 500 times 6,260 yielded 3,130,000
verses to read. Hed silently read the first verse as quickly as he could without stumbling over it Thus transitioned
Gactimus and timed it at 12 seconds. Twelve seconds times 3,130,000 wasmore than 37 million seconds. And 37
million seconds, divided into nine-hour days, came out to
Four years, kid, Fanaso said quietly. Four years, 56 days and seven hours. Thats how long it took.
It should have been less than that by several months. First the kriffing bugs had to torment him, letting him read
for an entire day before correcting him on some points of pronunciation and making him start over. At the end of
the first week his vocal cords were so frayed that he couldnt even produce a rusty croak, leaving him in Triton
Beshs infirmary for two days. That had convinced him of the wisdom of a slower pace and carefully spaced sips of
distilled juice. Juice that, hed once estimated, had required 33 days worth of much-resented extra trips to the
fresher. Then there were the scattering of days when he couldnt bear the thought of reading and sat numbly on
his cot instead. And, of course, the three times he was assaulted by infuriated spacers.
Werent you in a guidebook, Shandy? asked Devoris with a smirk.
A Herglic one. Strange Sights Along the Spaceways. That started early in the third year. They used to come through in
groups of five. A hundred an hour, some days. They stank.
But they tipped you, Devoris said.
Fanaso frowned. Yes, a bejeweled Herglic merchant in the first group had tipped him, flipping a quarter-cred to
him, then encouraging the other members of his tour to follow suit. The bugs had confiscated the tips over
Fanasos furious objections until Gallagane, on one of his periodic inspections, ordered that any tips Fanaso
collected during his donation-service were his to keep. At which point Saman promptly charged him for
accumulated room and board, putting him even deeper in debt. Gallagane allowed that, but insisted that the
truculent bartender set a schedule of rates, to remain in effect for the duration of Fanasos devotion-service. Which
had finally ceased on a day like any other on Triton Besh, except that on this particular day Fanaso switched off
the amplifier and stumbled to the tithing-office to reserve a berth on the next liner back to Eriadu.
Those tips added up, didnt they, Shandy? Devoris asked, still grinning.
Fanaso nodded, glowering at the laughing smugglers.
And the tracts? Tell the kid about the tracts.
Fanaso balled the tract up in his fist and flung it in the direction of Devoris, who caught it with a flick of the wrist.
Thats my favorite part, Devoris said. Not only does Fanaso walk out of Triton Besh with two trunks full of creds
from tips, but the bugs insist he take all 313 tracts with him. For further study, right, Shandy? And you almost tore
them up in the umbilical, didnt you?
I was going to shred them, Shandy said. But I was afraid that would violate something in the Rules of Law.
What Shandy didnt know yet was that for an initiate to receive a tract, he has to demonstrate mastery of the
previous ones in the saga. Tract One? Youll find dozens of them in any spaceport trash bin. But Tract One
Hundred? Fanaso here is one of the few non-bugs whos ever seen a copy. And a set of all 313? Only nine are
known to exist in the galaxy. One of them belongs to a Herglic collector on Sukkult who paid Shandy Fanaso a
million credits for it. So Shandy was right he was going to the Triton moons to get rich. Right, Shandy?
Fanaso nodded at the smugglers and the ships boy. Paying off the backers of Shandys Pleasure Palace had eaten up
most of the money, of course, but thered been enough left over to buy a share in the One Two Many and an escape
into a new life one that would never take him near a Triton Moon.
You got rich, Mr. Fanaso, Janzel Helot said in wonder. So it was all worth it.
I was rich for a week, Fanaso said. And it wasnt worth it, kid. Not by a long shot. You think Im wrong, go read
that tract just that one kriffing tract 500 times and see if you dont change your mind. And you remember a few
things, kid. First off, youre never as smart as you think. Any bright idea you get, odds are somebody already had it.
And always, always read the fine print. Those details, kid, they can hide some pretty big dinkos.