This is a fan translation of Captain French, or the Quest for Paradise (Капитан Френч, или Поиски рая) by Mikhail Akhmanov and Christopher Nicholas Gilmore.

Chapter 25

No one knew for certain where the Border was, but everyone knew how to get there. Just turn your ship's stern towards any of the Old Worlds and go. After a while, you would notice that the distances between inhabited systems were growing and your commodity turnover was dropping. They were still buying fine clothing and perfumes but not selling anything of the sort, since they simply didn't have any to sell; the sales market was still there, but there weren't any good offers. Then the modeling business dried up completely, but they still bought books, films, and recordings, although not enough to make a profit. Soon even that business disappeared; now you could trade in animals and seeds or fill your holds with robots, mining equipment, sliders, aircars, and tractors. That was it! You were at the Border! In some godforsaken hole where people walked around in tanned leather pants, didn't read books, where there were no cities, only the beauty of nature everywhere.

But that was an extreme case, a frontier where colonists had landed only ten, twenty, or thirty years ago. As for Corinth, its history numbered in five or six centuries, and it was located in that region between the Border and those worlds whose people had said goodbye to leather clothing and primitive savagery long ago. Corinth's dry land, three sizable landmasses, had been fully settled back in the second century, and now there were probably hundreds of cities, bridges, roads, fields, industrial zones, and holovision — in a word, civilization. True, there was a lot I didn't know about it and could only theorize and make predictions. Where would I get exact data? That mystical Corinth was too far away…

But we weren't in a hurry; the decision had been made, and time changed nothing. Days, months, and years could fly by quickly or crawl at a snail's pace, they could hop, run, or drag on with a leisurely monotony, they could even freeze or hurtle like a deadly comet. Their run or unhurried walk didn't seem to touch us; we were living in expectation of our parting. Stars, empty planets, inhabited worlds were passing by… Cocaine, Carnot, Trigismus, Neil Carborundum, Horse Mane, Radevski… Strange and bizarre names… Some linked their hopes to them, some had made use of their imagination, some cherished prideful dreams, and to some they were a memory of someone dear to them: a friend or a loved one. I knew that from that moment on they'd become a memory for me as well. Eternal memory! If someone were to tell me the name of any of the worlds we'd passed by—any time of day or night—I would tell them whether Shandra was with me. True, it hadn't been that long since we'd parted… But even in ten thousand years all those stars and worlds wouldn't lose their inimitable glow, their charm; the memory of them was like strands that were connecting me to Shandra.

We landed in one such star harbor, on Kadath, where I'd said goodbye to Daphne many years ago. Such was Shandra's will; I didn't know why, but she felt a certain degree of sympathy towards Daphne. Was it because Daphne had been so helpless and trusting? As I'd noted many times, strong people were prone to feeling protective of others.

Kadath… The darkest episode of our final journey… A world that had experience the full horror of a catastrophic war…

Everything started fairly innocently, with biocybernetic and cloning experiments. The cloned beings with normal human physiology were equipped with a so-called "obedience circuit", an electronic device that guaranteed their loyalty. To whom? Why, their masters, of course, those who'd gotten tired of robots and wanted to have other servants, ones that were more like humans, who could feel pain and fear, who felt attachment and gratitude. The power over these creations, the ability to punish them for perceived faults or reward them seemed to have raised the humans up; they felt themselves almost like gods, if not the gods themselves. Power was so sweet… When supported by knowledge and finances, it was unbeatable. So genetic labs got to work, breeding slaves, creatures that were far too similar to humans to call them androids.

Then the "obedience circuit" failed with a suspicious and frightening simultaneity, and a war broke out across the planet. Had it ended differently, we humans would've had to deal with a complex ethical problem: how we ought to treat a race of sentient beings created by us and imbued with all the human virtues and vices. Especially since that creation had neither a reason nor a cause to love or feel gratitude towards us! That would've been an interesting situation… But, in any case, the war had put an end to it; the battles were incredibly cruel, no quarter was given, no one spared any bombs, and, as a result, the Kadathians won. But three-quarters of their population was dead or missing, while the survivors were left in shock and would stay this way for at least fifty years, according to my most favorable forecasts.

There was nothing to trade here and no one to trade with. I took the recordings of all the grant battles and incredible atrocities, with shots of total destruction, rivers of blood, and oceans of fire. They gave me those for free, with the promise that I would tell all the inhabited worlds about what had happened in order to keep them from making the same mistake. I didn't object, only musing that people tended to not learn on others' mistakes. Perhaps the race created and destroyed by the Kadathians would've been more sensible…

I made inquiries regarding Daphne, but she wasn't listed among the survivors. Then again, my search was limited: all the local archives were in a pitiful state, computers had been smashed, files looted, communication and transportation were almost nonexistent, there were nothing but ruins in place of cities, while the people were huddling in huts among the fields that had survived by some miracle… Kadath had fallen into dark times, and the grim night of the troubled times had swallowed Daphne up.

Sad! It was so incredibly sad! She'd been so young and beautiful… I didn't linger on Kadath, since everything that had happened was too reminiscent of the Murphian chaotic times, and any such associations were a torment for Shandra. Accelerating, we entered the Ramsden field, jumped, calculated the next leg of the trip, and jumped again; then the transitions fused into a single giant leap in my memory, vague and hazy, as if the morning mist over a lake. The world was swaying and shaking, the Circe's reliable walls were melting away, the cold of the vast dimensions was chilling the soul, the universe was circling like a carousel of a cloudy viscous shroud, and the voices were whispering… Whispering what? It seemed that this time I could understand their indistinct babbling, which was reminding me that our journey was coming to and end and that our parting was inevitable.

We emerged exactly where I'd calculated, at the outskirts of Corinth's system, beyond the belt of the outer planets, monstrous conglomerations of frozen gas and ice. We flew past them; we were moving towards the hot sun, towards warmth and light. Corinth's jade disk was growing before us, as if reminding and hurrying us on. Shandra was already carrying my child, and, according to our calculations, her first month of pregnancy was supposed to end right at the moment of landing.

While listening to radio transmissions and making visual observations, I was able to confirm that we hadn't made a mistake with Corinth. The planet was prospering: two of the colony ships hanging over the equator had already been almost entirely dismantled, while the third one had been converted into an orbital terminal; the transmission power was fairly strong, which spoke of progress in communication systems; the lakes and rivers retained their natural color, which meant they hadn't been polluted with industrial waste; on land I was able to make out a few hundred small and large settlements and a mesh of roads connecting them. While there could've been more signs of civilization, it seemed that Corinth wasn't in a hurry to enter the technological era, preferring to preserve its forests, air, waters, and the wealth hidden below. I attributed that to the refinement of female influence and finally calmed down after not finding any growths of white orchids anywhere. It seemed that they had been entirely wiped out by the men! Which was good. It meant that Shandra would be entirely safe here. I contacted the terminal, informed them of my visit, and entered orbit that passed over the poles. I calculated it in such a way as to avoid intersecting the remains of the two ships; their sight was reminding me what could happen to the Circe, which was not a very pleasant one to a space trader. The corpse of a ship, just like the corpse of a person, instilled very grim thoughts in me, especially given our current situation and after what we'd seen on Kadath. True, Corinth wasn't at all like Kadath: a beautiful virgin world covered in blue oceans and green vegetation, a planet full of life, the fairytale castle of domestic bliss… But what awaited me here? Nothing pleasant. A year would pass, followed by parting, memories, longing… In order to distract myself from these thoughts, I started wondering about the colony ships, the two gnawed corpses over the equator. Could I get the Corinthians to sell them to me? It would be an excellent business opportunity for our boy if he was into space technology… I'd be able to build something useful out of those remains, like maybe a solar power plant or a factory for producing extremely pure substances in zero-g… Deciding to get back to that plan later, I climbed into the shuttle—with Shandra, of course—came "down", and got to doing other research. The primary one involved evaluating the political situation on Corinth. From a natural standpoint, the planet was suitable in every respect: gravity of 1.02 g, a Sol-type sun, a temperate climate, the land to water ratio was 1:3. But besides these circumstances there were also ones that had to do with the human factor, that was where there could be issues. At the moment, Corinth was a democracy with all the required institutions: a legislative assembly, a president and their cabinet, a dozen political parties, and a constitution that enshrined the sacred right of private property. But what would be happening here in two hundred years? Or five hundred? A Tranaian-style humane communism? The empire of a god-king like Clérac? Or a catastrophe like the ones on Brunnershabn, Yamaha, and El Dorado?

I didn't want to take any chances. I recalled Shandra's words, "I know you, Graham. You plan everything out in every detail, and then you worry until it's over. And if everything goes as expected, you can sometimes be so proud!"

And so I worried. I couldn't betray her trust. After all, this was about her and our son!

But everything turned out to be well. Due to the special status of its women, Corinth was in complete equilibrium, something even more developed worlds couldn't say. This "special status", just like the prophetic gift of its bearers, was never advertised openly, but it wasn't hidden either; it was a commonly accepted fact, one as natural as the sunrise and sunset. It was natural that women chose men; it was natural that their choice was infallible; it was natural that anyone so chosen was happy; it was natural that any man treated his wife's advice as a command… After living on Corinth for a few months, I'd realized the strength of such a simple mechanism. It couldn't be called a matriarchy or a rule of power-hungry amazons; in fact, the women didn't rule and didn't take power away from men, they merely advised. Nothing more! And yet the walls of Corinth were standing on that advice.

These walls were tall and had no gates for outsiders. Almost none; a limited number of male immigrants were still accepted, but not women. This law had been in place for four centuries, since the disappearance of the orchids and with them the chance to obtain the prophetic gift. Corinth had no need for crippled women.

On the other hand, Shandra didn't need a full citizenship status. Therefore, I made a deal with the authorities, which granted her asylum status for fifty years; after that time, she was to leave Corinth, but our son would be able to stay. After all, he'd be a native-born male without any restrictions.

I had to admit that I shed a lot of sweat over this contract, even though it was put together by the best legal minds with influence in the Legislative Assembly. But at one point I was given a hint on how to move the matter forward: I had to demonstrate that my son would be a wealthy man, and therefore a most honorable citizen. I immediately purchased the half-disassembled ships and sent my worker robots to them. Naturally, there was no way they'd be able to build a factory or a power plant in only a few months, but that was a task for the future; let my boy handle it, using the funds I'd left him at the Industrial Bank of Corinth. Most importantly, I'd proven that he wouldn't be poor; and I hoped that he would increase his wealth upon reaching maturity. Maturity was the age when a man got married and began to listen to female advice, and Corinthian women had plenty of brains. I expected that the smartest of them would eventually become Mrs. Jonathan French.

Jonathan — that was the name we gave him. He was born at the appointed time, a screaming pink-cheeked boy with green eyes, fairly large and swarthy. He looked very much like Shandra! At first I thought that he'd gotten nothing from me, but I was mistaken. The little tike was cunning as a fox and exhibited healthy pragmatism: he cried when hungry, slept when he was sleepy, and filled his diapers with a surprising regularity. The pragmatism was my legacy, the most valuable thing I was leaving him, along with all the fears of a calculating and logical man. But there was no such thing as a free lunch, right? I did my best to stay with Shandra until the birth of the child, but I ended up having to dedicate my last several months on Corinth to business. I sold some technical specifications, animals, holofilms, and neuroclips. It was fairly modest from a business perspective, but I had enough means to purchase an estate in the vicinity of the capital and a mansion in the city. The latter wasn't for living; it would become the best Corinthian fashion center, the salon of Lady Killashandra, an unrivaled model, the wife of Captain French. I had to set it all up: install computers, copy data from the Circe's files, hire personnel, establish a supply of fabrics, transport robots… I also deposited funds in Shandra's name in the form of precious metals, placing them in the most reliable banks; no sensible man would put all eggs in one basket.

My princess was watching all this hassle, when Jonathan didn't need her, of course.

"Graham, you're leaving me for thirty or forty years, but it looks like you're going away for a thousand. This scares me, dear. The salon, the estate, these bank deposits, that orbital station, and everything else… What else are you planning? Not too much, I hope. Why?"

"To keep you from being bored. When the child grows up, you won't be left with nothing to do, and business is the best cure for boredom. It's one reason, honey, but there are others. I'm am old—"

She laughed and waved her hand, "I know, I know! You're an old man from Old Earth, and you're a prudent man. But isn't this too much? After all, you're going to come back, and we'll leave Corinth… together…"

"That's what we're hoping," I muttered. "But I can cease to exist in any of the galactic holes, and you'll have to work out an indefinite contract with the Corinthians. It'll be a lot easier if you're a rich and influential person… everything will be a lot easier, honey, trust me on this."

Shandra's head shook.

"No, Graham, I can't and won't believe that! You're going to come back for me, you'll take me with you, and we'll leave Corinth…" She reached out and gripped my fingers, one of which had a gleaming golden circle on it. "And you'll keep that ring safe!"

"Of course I will," I replied. "You don't lose rings given by princesses."

And so I left. The great Trader from the Stars, the glorious Friend of the Border, Old Cap Frenchie had left Corinth…

But the day before my parting with Shandra, a precious cargo was lowered from the Circe, five hundred kilograms of platinum and gold. I delivered it to the First Industrial Bank of Corinth, to the office of the bank manager, where everything had already been prepared. The metal was weighed, appraised, and sent to the vault; then I made a permanent entry into the computer with my own hand, just in case, under password. Only two people knew this code: this office's owner and me.

"All right," the bank manager said, "if your wife's business affairs go well, I'm going to keep this deposit a secret. I or my successor have the right to grow the capital, to make use of it at our own discretion, but without loss to the depositor… meaning you, sir. But if Lady Killashandra experiences some difficulties… or your son… in that case I will support them up until your return. Support them effectively, so that they wanted for nothing, did not rely on government subsidies or private donations. Is that all, sir?"

"Almost," I said. "There's one more clause, of the kind that don't get written down in contracts. But, as usual, it's greater than all the others."

The bank manager raised his eyebrows, "I hope you're not trying to push me towards something illegal, sir."

"Not at all."

"Then what are we talking about here?"

"Trust. Trust and the possibility of deception."

He nodded his head meaningfully.

"Of course, trust… trust… A very delicate and sensitive issue… But we're both businessmen, sir, and understand that there's no such thing as a 100% guarantee."

"That's true," I agreed. "Tell me, are you familiar with the story of Regos? Captain Regos from the Beautiful Alice?"

His eyebrows went up again, this time in confusion.

"Yes, sir, of course… A truly tragic event… truly sad and informative… Does that mean you're planning on exacting revenge on someone? The way Regos has done?"

"That's not in my nature. But, if I return to learn that my lady has been tricked, I'm going to do to you what Regos did to Clérac."

He wasn't offended, which was a good sign. He proffered his hand and said, "Accepted, sir. I don't want for my wife to become a widow. That's all the guarantees I can give you."

And I believed him. After all, Corinth had its own way of doing things…