Did hani Phase?
She wondered. She wondered about mahendo’sat.
And listened to the sounds of the Legacy giving up cargo to create space for the deals she’d just made.
‘‘I was terribly embarrassed,” Fala said. “I’m terribly sorry,” and Hall an, cornered in the crew lounge, with no excuse to leave, murmured what he hoped was a polite agreement and tried to think of somewhere else to look but Fala Anify’s face and something, anything, that could look like an assigned job.
“Tarras just jokes,” Fala said.
“I know,” he said.
“You’re awfully nice,” Fala said.
He tried desperately to find occupation in sorting through the tapes in the rack.
“Tarras and Chihin both joke a lot. It’s just their way of being friendly. They really like you.”
That didn’t exactly help.
“Where is Meras, exactly?”
“Ruun. Near the mountains. It’s a real small clan.”
‘’I ought to know. But I wasn’t at all good in geography. I can astrogate. That’s fine. But I just wasn’t interested in planetary stuff. My aunts went with The Pride. They used to send me things when they were in port.” She bounced down to sit on the end of the couch, which made it harder not to look at her. He must nave sorted the tapes beyond twice. He looked stupid, he knew he did, and his ears twitched like a fool’s if he tried to keep them up. So he had to look like he was sulking, and that might make her mad.
She asked, in his silence: “Meras isn’t a spacing clan, is it?”
“No. No, it isn’t.”
“How come—?”
“I just wanted to.” Gods, they were around to that.
“Anify’s up in the mountains. My uncle’s a lump and my aunts walked out on him and I think they sort of drifted into ker Pyanfar’s business. But I’d get presents from space and Anuurn just didn’t matter to me. I wanted it so bad, to go to space, my mother used to box my ears about my lessons, and finally she just told me spacers had to know this and spacers had to know that and if I didn’t do my divisions and my tables and my geometry and my biology and my Compact history no ship was ever going to want me. But she couldn’t make me believe it about agronomy and geography and classical poetry.”
He liked classical poetry. But he could understand what she was saying.
“I just nattered my sisters into helping me,” he said. “They got me a ride to station. They said I wouldn’t last the first winter in the woods. They were right. I was a scrawny kid. And I don’t have any aptitude for politics or farming. So if somebody handed me a niche in the clans I’d foul it up.”
“I think you could do anything you wanted to.”
“You could learn geography. If you wanted to.”
He hadn’t thought that was particularly clever. But she started to laugh, until the all-ship blared out:
“ Fala ? Where’s that systems check ? We ‘re in count, gods rot it!”
“I’ve got to go,” she said, and scrambled for the door. But she stopped there and looked back. “Can I bring you anything? Gfi? A sandwich?”
“No. No, I’m fine.”
“Fala!”
She ran for it— notusing the com unit by the crew lounge door. The door shut. He found himself exhaling a pent breath and feeling as if he should adjust the cabin temperature.
So they were in count for leaving this port. That was fast. That was very fast. And he was anxious to get out in space where there was something maybe the captain would let him do, so he had an excuse not to be cornered.
They were in count and the clanks and thumps of offloading cargo kept going. That was a first too, so far as his experience went.
But usually crews wanted to take a few days’ rest and liberty on the docks. And the Legacy had urgent business, very urgent business, with two stsho aboard, now, one of them crazy and the other apt to go that way if gtst met him again.
He was absolutely, resolutely, positively resolved he was not going to make one single more mistake on this voyage and he was not going to do anything the captain would disapprove of. …