“But . . . well, I’m not actually any relation to her. Not that I had any idea of marrying her.”
“Oh, beat it! You make me tired.”
Thorby moped around, unwilling to go back and face Jeri. He felt lost and alone and confused; the Family seemed as strange, their ways as difficult to understand, as the Losians.
He missed Mata. He had never missed her before. She had been something pleasant but routine — like three meals a day and the other comforts he had learned to expect in Sisu. Now he missed her.
Well, if that was what she wanted, why hadn’t they let her? Not that he had thought about it . . . but as long as you had to get married some day, Mata would be as tolerable as any. He liked her.
Finally he remembered that there was one person with whom he could talk. He took his troubles to Doctor Mader.
He scratched at her door, received a hurried, “Come in!” He found her down on her knees, surrounded by possessions. She had a smudge on her nose and her neat hair was mussed. “Oh. Thorby. I’m glad you showed up. They told me you were dirtside and I was afraid I would miss you.”
She spoke System English; he answered in it. “You wanted to see me?”
“To say good-by. I’m going home.”
“Oh.” Thorby felt again the sick twinge he had felt when Jeri had told about Mata. Suddenly he was wrenched with sorrow that Pop was gone. He pulled himself together and said, “I’m sorry. I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, Thorby. You’re the only one in this big ship that I felt at home with . . . which is odd, as your background and mine are about as far apart as possible. I’ll miss our talks.”
“So will I,” Thorby agreed miserably. “When are you leaving?”
“El Nido jumps tomorrow. But I should transfer tonight; I don’t dare miss jump, or I might not get home for years.”
“El Nido is going to your planet?” A fantastic scheme began to shape in his mind.
“Oh, no! She’s going to That Beta VI. But a Hegemonic mail ship calls there and I can get home. It is too wonderful a chance to miss.” The scheme died in Thorby’s brain; it was preposterous, anyhow — he might be willing to chance a strange planet, but Mata was no fraki.
Doctor Mader went on, “The Chief Officer arranged it.” She smiled wryly. “She’s glad to get rid of me. I hadn’t had any hope that she could put it over, in view of the difficulty in getting me aboard Sisu; I think your grandmother must have some bargaining point that she did not mention. In any case I’m to go . . . with the understanding that I remain in strict purdah. I shan’t mind; I’ll use the time on my data.”
Mention of purdah reminded Thorby that Margaret would see Mata. He started with stumbling embarrassment to explain what he had come to talk about. Doctor Mader listened gravely, her fingers busy with packing. “I know, Thorby. I probably heard the sad details sooner than you did.”
“Margaret, did you ever heard of anything so silly?”
She hesitated. “Many things . . . much sillier.”
“But there wasn’t anything to it! And if that was what Mata wanted, why didn’t Grandmother let her . . . instead of shipping her out among strangers. I . . . well, I wouldn’t have minded. After I got used to it.”
The fraki woman smiled. “That’s the oddest gallant speech I ever heard, Thorby.”
“Thorby said, “Could you get a message to her for me?”
“Thorby, if you want to send her your undying love or something, then don’t. Your Grandmother did the best thing for her great granddaughter, did it quickly with kindness and wisdom. Did it in Mata’s interests against the immediate interests of Sisu, since Mata was a valuable fighting man. But your Grandmother measured up to the high standards expected of a Chief Officer; she considered the long-range interests of everyone and found them weightier than the loss of one firecontrolman. I admire her at last — between ourselves, I’ve always detested the old girl.” She smiled suddenly. “And fifty years from now Mata will make the same sort of wise decisions; the sept of Sisu is sound.”