The last of my buy-out pay got me as far as Utross IV. From there, I was able to work a passage to Maxis II, where nobody was hiring, not even for free. So I had to pull the last of the old Spacers tricks I had left up my sleeve and dead-headed my way to Sennis. If you're ever looking for a place to get away from it all, with all being the rest of the known Universe, Sennis was the ideal setting down point. So far off the major trade routes, remote didn't begin to describe it.
       The Captain didn't want to stop there, but it's pretty hard to refuse an old Spacer. "Sennis? It ain't even near the ass-end of nowhere! I thought people wanted to get away from there! Never heard of anyone looking to actually go there."
       I laughed. "Well, you have now, Cap. The story alone should be worth your setting me down there, right?"
       Captain Miller rubbed his chin as he mused on that thought. In the busier parts of the freight paths, Spacers can make a good living off their stories if someone has never heard them before. I'd simply run out of places to tell mine. I could see Cap totting up how many free drinks this was going to earn him before he answered. "Hmm, I guess it might be worth a few Standards for me around the spaceport bar circuit, I suppose? Here's how it'll work. We'll go down fast and hard. I want you by the door, ready to go as soon as we hit the dirt. You get as long it takes the Chief to open that door and close the damn thing again behind you. And once we're gone, it's for good! Ain't nothing in the Spacers Code about making rescues or coming back for you. You've had all the favours you're going to get out of us, gavvy?"
       I nodded. "I gavvy all right, Cap. That's all the time I'll need. I've got nothing with me. I just need to get on the ground. I gavvy that good."

       Captain Miller was a man of his word.
       I was standing ready at the airlock as he blasted down onto the surface of Sennis. Then the Chief yanked open the door. I didn't even bother to look at him; I just jumped out onto the ground and started running for all I was worth. Miller had his jets up to max q before I was even out of the firing line.
       At least I'd made it here in one piece. King Street Spaceport.
       As was always the case around any spaceport, there were always people looking to make a Standard from a Spacer. We're usually good for a coin or two. I'd barely made it more than two whole steps outside the compound before the first one saw me. "Copper?" he said, or at least that was what it sounded like to me.
       I just shrugged at him, "Sorry, buddy, I ain't got no money!" I showed my pockets empty, that normally scared off most beggars. At least, I assumed he was a beggar. He was pretty dirty, and his clothes were ragged and torn. If he was rich, his disguise was excellent, but he looked exactly like most beggars I'd ever come across before.
       "Copper?" he said again. The hand motion he was making wasn't your typical outstretched hand asking for money or the alternate cupped hand, expecting to be filled with coin.
       I waved him off again, shaking my head and showing my pockets empty.
       Then the next man appeared. "Give him nothing, Lord. He is but a local drunkard." This one looked more like a grifter, one of those sorts who'd show you anything or take you anywhere, for a fee, of course. A sly smile, a raised eyebrow, and both eyes constantly trying to locate your money.
       "What does he want? I don't understand him. I thought he wanted money?" I said.
       The grifter smiled; he was missing at least three teeth and the use of a good mouthwash, or even a bad one. "The man is asking for Cap'aa, Lord. It is a local alcohol comparable to rocket fuel. The less desirable elements of society drink it, even though they know its consumption will eventually kill them."
       The beggar held his hand out a third time. That was when I noticed he was short at least one finger, the index. "Cap'aa?"
       "Tell him I've got nothing to give him, will you?" I asked the grifter.
       The grifter turned to the beggar and spoke in the local pidgin dialect, "Nettin yoo tekkin, leevin yoo bee dooin." The beggar got the drift and slowly wandered off, which left just myself and the grifter, still primed to empty my wallet as any good grifter always is. "So, Lord. How may I be of further service? Carry your bag? Call you a taxi? Find you a good hotel? I know all, very good, very cheap!"
       Again, I showed him that my pockets were completely empty. I even pulled them inside out again, just for his benefit.
       The grifter nodded. "Of course, Lord, your money is secreted. I know this well!"
       I tried not to roll my eyes as I smiled at his optimism. "I've got nothing. Do you see any bag? Just the clothes I'm standing up in."
       The grifter tried his last angle, "All men have something worth trading, Lord."
       I looked at him. "Unless you've got a ship that needs a Craftsman, I can't offer you anything. Not even these clothes, unless you like being radioactive?"
       Even then, he still had a lifeline. "Surely the Lord needs somewhere to stay?"
       "If you want, you can point me towards the Spacers Mission."
       "Cherridy?" He spat out the pidgin term like it sullied his taste buds.
       "Don't knock it, old man. One day, even you might be grateful for a little charity. So, how about those directions?"
       The grifter spat and pointed the way with fewer fingers than I'd have liked. At least his directions were free. And he hadn't pushed it about having something to trade. Usually, when you tell people your clothes are the only thing you have, many will suggest you sell, hock or trade them. Almost no one wants them if they're radioactive, though. It doesn't matter where you set down in the Universe; everyone understands the word radioactive. And no one with even half a brain cell left wants any part of it, either.
       I hustled off in the direction the grifter had pointed and started seeing street signs minutes later; at least he had pointed me in the right direction, for free. Normally you get sent towards several of their biggest, toughest friends, who'd part you from everything you've got, including your clothes. On this occasion, he'd taken my warning seriously and given me good information for nothing.
       You don't even get that on most worlds, not anymore you don't. Everyone expects to be paid, even if it's for the slightest thing. It was just like the grifter had said, carrying your bag, calling you a taxi, finding you a good hotel; all of these were places where men like him would have a connection, someone who'd pay him a fee for bringing them a Spacer with pockets full of Standards.
       To men like that, charity was a dirty word. Mostly because no one made any money from it, certainly not them.

       ROYAL COURT SPACERS MISSION, Be ready to show your card! Read the flashing neon sign outside.
       "Card?"
       I pulled up my sleeve. I'd got mine tattooed on my forearm, as well as a chip implanted under the skin.
       The reader on the front desk beeped once, and a display on the front showed one green light. 'Great,' I thought to myself, 'it hasn't been cancelled yet!'
       "Room two oh five, you want the key card, or I can encode onto your chip?" the clerk didn't look old enough to be a Spacer, probably some former desk jockey, working until he had enough time served to retire somewhere a lot nicer than here.
       "Can you do both?" I asked him.
       He did, but he grumbled about the duplication the whole time. I explained to him that while pockets were simple to pick and room cards were easily stolen from unsuspecting people, it was kind of difficult to part a man from his forearm without him knowing. The clerk shut the hell up after that. He knew when he was beaten.
       The room was small, but it was way more than what I needed. The most important thing was a decontamination service. At least I'd have clean clothes now and a few more years to live. They weren't currently all that hot, but a few more days and I'd have started to feel them. It had a bed and access to washing facilities, too, more than you can say for most of the hulks I'd served on during my time as a Spacer. Not that I was using the room much, I spent most of my time on the streets, trying to find work or other ways to earn some money.
       And I knew I didn't have long before someone eventually checked my Spacers Guild membership status.

       As it turned out, I got exactly a hundred days. A hundred days of living free, with a roof above my head, four hots and a cot. Then one day, it happened, just as I was going out for another day of trying to hustle for money.
       "You the guy from two oh five?" It was the clerk, the one who looked like he'd never seen a day's worth of space in his entire life.
       I nodded. "That's me. What do ya need?"
       "We recently ran a check of memberships, something we do on a regular basis, just to make sure no imposters are taking advantage of our help here. It appears that you aren't a fully paid-up member, something about several years' worth of missed subscriptions, they said at Headquarters."
       Damn it. I knew this would catch up with me eventually. I was just wishing they'd take a little longer about it. I'd assumed that by coming out this far beyond the edge of civilization, they'd do their checks less often. I was hoping they didn't check at all.
       Hoped in vain, I guess.
       "So, how long have I got to settle up?" I had already made a little money, but nowhere near enough to cover the nine years of late fees I owed to the Guild.
       As soon as he started to shake his head, I knew the free ride was over. "Sorry, man. Any settle-up time you might have had was over long ago. Gonna have to ask for your card back. And I'll need to cancel that arm, too."
       I'll admit that right then, I took an entire second, sized him up and considered if I could work him over for a few more days undercover. Then I held out the card. I had been just about to put it into my pocket; no point now, though.
       As I was holding the card in my hand, he passed the reader over my arm as well, cancelling both in one fell swoop. "Sorry, man, just doing my job!"
       I shrugged. "Ain't your fault! I should have paid those dues long ago. Just never got around to it."
       "Listen, buddy. You've been a good guy here; you ain't made no noise or caused any fuss. If you ain't got a place to sleep by dark, there's always the couch in Reception. It ain't much, but at least it's not outside in the cold, am I right?"
       That made me feel bad about my thoughts towards working him over earlier. "If I ain't got nothing better, I'll take you up on that."

       It's probably worth mentioning at this point in time that the rotational period on Sennis is slightly longer than that of good old Earth. A day lasts thirty hours. And in the local summer, anything up to twenty of those hours is under a burning hot sun. So, I had twenty hours to find somewhere else to live. Otherwise, it was charity from a charity. A charity I'd already more than pushed my luck with and taken advantage of.
       There were plenty of hotels in Sennis City, but those cost money. There were a handful of flop-houses too. Having seen my reflection, I knew I wasn't the kind of person they'd spare a meal and a bed for the night to. That was the trouble with maintaining standards, keeping yourself clean, and retaining personal hygiene. A flop-house expects a bum. And while I may have had a few Crowns rattling in my pocket, I didn't look like a bum. Nor did I smell like one.
       Then I had a thought, and I acted on it.
       "Uncle Ho's. You stays, or you goes?"
       I wanted to stay. But if memory served, they only catered to those from Asian stock or descent. "I'd like to stay if it's at all possible?" I asked.
       "Finger!" said the desk guy.
       I had no clue what he meant, so I just shrugged at him.
       "You put finger on pad, there!" he pointed to it, wiping it over with a microfibre cloth. It wasn't any less dirty, but it was possible it might read something now.
       Okay. Whatever it takes, I guess. I put my finger on the pad. It took less than a second for the desk to start making very negative-sounding noises. And the red light to appear. Red lights almost never meant anything good.
       "No!" said the desk guy.
       "No? Why?" I asked.
       "Reader checks blood, genetics. You no Asian. Uncle Ho's only free to ancestors!"
       Damn it, what else was there? One last chance. "You need any help? I'll do anything. Clean, wash up. You name it. Employees live here for free, right?"
       He nodded. "Show me hands!"
       I did. Whatever he saw, it satisfied him. I'd worked enough hard jobs aboard ships. Swabbing decks, cleaning, doing laundry. Mine weren't the hands of a man who'd had an easy life.

       Uncle Ho's worked out, at least for a few months. In the end, I think a few too many of his patrons saw me cleaning up in the back and took exception to me; I guess they didn't like my face. Racism takes many forms, but it always works the same way, people hating you for being different, regardless of the difference. Uncle Ho didn't want to let me go, but he had to appear sympathetic to his guest's wishes.
       And they were the people keeping him open at the end of the day, mostly by way of Government grants to provide them shelter.
       So, it meant curtains for yours truly, and back to a life on the streets.
       Don't get me wrong. I hadn't been idle since I'd landed on Sennis. I'd worked every day, making what money I could, doing whatever jobs were available. I didn't need to beg. If the grifters had ever bothered looking, they'd be more than aware there were plenty of places where a man could get money for an honest day's work. And I'll wager it made more than they were getting in kickbacks from their friends in the taxi and hotel business.
       So, I wasn't exactly penniless.
       The trouble with a place like Sennis, everything cost an absolute fortune. That was what you got for living on a planet so far off the known trade and supply routes.
       I even tried to go back to the Spacers Mission to take the clerk up on his offer of that free couch. The only trouble there was when I went back, he wasn't working there anymore. And they'd only gone and replaced him with a droid! No chance of charity from Mister Roboto! So, I was back on the streets unless I wanted to spend a few of the meagre Crowns I still had left.
       Now, as I'd been spending every day under the harsh sun of Sennis, I'd developed the same dirty brown tan as the locals. Some of them even recognised me now, too; I was even on a nodding basis with a few of them. Some I'd actually gotten to know quite well. A few of them always knew where there was a job, even if it paid less than the minimum wage.
       Then there was Macis.
       You remember the first guy I met when I landed? The one I thought was a beggar? I'm not the only Spacer he tried to hit up for a drink. Once he got it into his head that I had no money, we became pretty friendly. I even found a few jobs, thanks to him. And never went short of a place to sleep either. He knew everywhere, and he knew all the tricks, having lived on the streets almost his entire adult life.
       It was that day he told me how he'd come to be the man I knew today. "You in a tight spot, yes? Why don't you become King? Sennis always looking for a new King! Easy job, real easy! Bed for the night, food and drink too."
       Macis went on to tell me that was how he'd developed his Cap'aa habit. It'd been free and easy to get when he'd been King. But oh, how the mighty had fallen!
       On the face of things, it sounded like a pretty good deal. And as with everything, there had to be some kind of catch, right? "Come on, Macis! If it was that easy, you'd still be there doing it right now. So, what's the catch? Because there must be a catch."
       It was at that moment Macis held out his right hand and started to wiggle his fingers. Or at least the three fingers and thumb he still had left on it. "You want to be King? King for a day? Gonna cost you one finger every day!"
       "Any finger?" I asked.
       Macis laughed. I'd gotten used to his paint-stripping breath by now. "Any finger. You choose which hand too!"
       I don't know how long I just sat there that day, just looking at my fingers. Long enough for it to get dark. Macis was kind enough to share his shelter for the night. At least I was under some kind of cover, out of the wind.

       Three months. That's how long I lasted on the streets, into the middle of the worst winter Sennis had ever seen. No weather to be living out on the streets.
       Three months before I found myself taking a wash in a free bathroom. "Okay, Macis, where is it?"
       He looked at me. Macis normally always looked drunk, even when he hadn't touched the stuff for days. "Where's what?"
       "Where do I apply? How do I become King?"
       That made him laugh. A lot of things made Macis laugh. He'd laugh when it rained. "It's a free wash and clean enough to drink, right?" He'd laugh when the wind blew the dust into our faces. He'd laugh when the Spacers tossed a coin into his outstretched hand. He'd even laugh when we went to sleep with empty bellies. "Better to rest with an empty belly than lie in the endless sleep of death." No matter how bad things got, Macis always saw some good in the situation.
       I just looked at him. "Come on, Macis, get your shit together. Where do I go?"
       As he muttered into my ear, Macis gave me the greatest gift I'd ever known.
       The gift of the loophole.

       It was a nice Palace, but mostly empty.
       "No tours today!"
       I gave the guard a stare. "Ain't here for a tour, buddy. I'm here to see the Chancellor. Tell him you've found a new King!"
       I never saw anyone move that fast before, not even the Astro-sprinters.
       The Chancellor was ushering me into an anteroom mere minutes later. "You understand the exchange, sire?"
       I nodded. "One finger. And that's for a day as King, right?"
       "Yes, sire."
       Toadying bastard. "You don't need to call me sire. At least not yet, you don't. I ain't King. Yet."
       "Soon enough, though, sire!"
       "And I can choose which finger I want and which hand, too, right?" I asked. It's always good to check these things before you get in too deep.
       "That is correct, sire." The Chancellor was practically falling over himself at the idea of having a new King to serve. Turns out not many people liked the idea of being King on Sennis.
       "Okay, Chancellor. Here are my terms. For a finger of my choosing, I'll be King for a day." And there was my loophole, that one important word. Or at least I hoped it was. If this didn't work, things were about to go badly for me.
       "Yes, sire."
       I'd always been savvy, street smart. Ready to use my wits when push came to shove. Right about now, I could feel those hands against my back. And now to play my trump card. I crossed my fingers while I still could. "A day on Celebane XVII."
       The Chancellor gave me a worried look. "Sire?"
       "I'll be King for the duration of a day on Celebane XVII. In case you aren't familiar with that planet, its daily rotational orbit is thirteen Terran years."
       The look on his face will be worth the price of one finger, which he won't get for another thirteen years. Time enough to make plenty of money to pay off my outstanding Spacer dues and retire for good. Time enough to pay back Macis for all his kindness too. It's a shame that he only knew about two planets. Macis had chosen to be King for a day on Elani Prime, where he'd been born. Daily rotational orbit, four months.
       I'll see to it that you live in comfort during my time on the throne, Macis. And not just you. By the time I'm finished, no one's going to be homeless on Sennis. This Palace has many rooms.
       It's going to be a good day to be King!