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. Let's go to my study."
They went there; Weemsby dismissed his second-shift secretary and said, "Now what do you want to know?"
"I want to know," Thorby said slowly, "what it means to be 'Rudbek of Rudbek.' "
Weemsby spread his hands. "Everything . . . and nothing. You are titular head of the business, now that your father is dead . . . if he is."
"Is there any doubt?"
"I suppose not. Yet you turned up."
"Supposing he is dead, what am I? Leda seems to think I own just about everything. What did she mean?"
Weemsby smiled. "You know girls. No head for business. The ownership of our enterprises is spread around -- most of it is in our employees. But, if your parents are dead, you come into stock in Rudbek Associates, which in turn has an interest in -- sometimes a controlling interest -- in other things. I couldn't describe it now. I'll have the legal staff do it -- I'm a practical man, too busy making decisions to worry about who owns every share. But that reminds me . . . you haven't had a chance to spend much money, but you might want to." Weemsby opened a drawer, took out a pad. "There's a megabuck. Let me know if you run short."
Thorby thumbed through it. Terran currency did not bother him: a hundred dollars to the credit -- which he thought of as five loaves of bread, a trick the Supercargo taught him -- a thousand credits to the supercredit, a thousand supercredits to the megabuck
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