“I knew that. I asked your parents why you weren’t with them. But I — they supposed you’d be finished sooner. Didn’t you get” — she paused — “impatient?”
“Yes.” Feverishly. For Nivala, awaiting him. “The ship came first, however.”
“Of course. You were best qualified for the job.”
“My father’s handling my share of sales for me. I don’t like that much, anyway, and I’m not very good at it.”
“No, you’re born an explorer, Kenri.”
Chatter, monkey noises, keeping me from Nivala. He couldn’t simply break off. Theye was a friend. Once he’d thought she might become more.
She continued quickly: “On the surface, things haven’t changed a lot since last I was here. The same Dominancy the same buildings and technology and languages. More hectic, maybe. Not that I’ve ventured to see for myself. I take my impressions from the news and entertainment shows.”
“You’re probably well advised. I hear they’re clamping down on us.”
She flinched. The gladness fled her. “Yes. So far we’re being denied permission to hold the Fair anywhere outdoors. And we have to wear a badge everywhere except the Town.”
Is that what that “special pass” business was about? He wondered. We didn’t want to make the spaceport official surlier by asking. Nor did he now care to inquire, partly because of the tears he saw glint in her eyes.
Her mouth quivered. She reached a hand toward him. “Kenri, is it true? I’ve heard rumors, but I didn’t feel I… ought to ask your parents —”
“About what?” He wished immediately that he hadn’t snapped.
“You’ll resign? Quit the Kith? Become an Earthling?”
“We can discuss that later.” He couldn’t hold down the harshness. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t time this evening.”
She pulled her hand back.
“Good night, Theye,” he said more amicably.
“Good night,” she whispered.
He saluted again and strode off, fast, not looking back. Light and shadow slid over him. His footfalls rustled.
Nivala waited. He would see her tonight. Somehow, just then, he couldn’t feel quite happy about it.
She had stood alone in a common room, looking at the stars in the viewscreen, and the illumination from overhead had been cool in her hair. Glimpsing her as he passed by, he entered quietly. What a wonder she was. A millennium ago, such tall, slender blondes had been rare on Earth. If the genetic adaptors of the Dominancy had done nothing else, they should be remembered with thanks for having re-created her kind.
Keen-sensed, she heard and turned about. The silver-blue eyes widened and her lips parted, half covered by a hand. He thought what a beautiful thing a woman’s hand was, set beside the knobbly, hairy paw of a man, “Oh,” she said. Her voice was like song. “You startled me, Kenri Shaun.”
“Apologies, Freelady.”
Since he had had no reason to come in — none that he could tell her — he felt breathtakingly relieved when she simply smiled. “No harm done. I’m too nervous.”
An opening for talk! “Is something the matter, Freelady? Anything I — anybody can help with?”
“No.” And, “Thank you,” she added. “Everyone is already very helpful.” They’d better be, with a passenger of her status. However, these first two daycycles of the voyage she’d been courteous, and he expected she’d continue that way. “It’s a sense of” — she hesitated, which wasn’t like a Star-Free —”isolation.”
“It’s unfortunate that we are an alien people to you, Freelady.” Social inferiors. Or worse. Though you haven’t treated me so.
She smiled again. “No, the differences are interesting.” The smile died. “I shouldn’t admit this.” Her fingers brushed across his for a bare moment that he never forgot. “I should have grown used to it, outbound. And now I’m headed home. But the thought that . . . more than half a century will have passed … is coming home to me”
He had merely cliches for response. “Time dilation, Freelady. People you knew will have aged.” Or died. “But the Peace of the Dominancy still holds, I’m sure.” All too sure.
“Yes, no doubt I can take up my life as it was. If I want to.” Her gaze went back to the blackness; stars and nebulae and cold galactic river. She shivered slightly under the thin blue chiton. “Time, space, strangeness. Perhaps it’s that — I fell to thinking — I’ll make the crossing in practically the same time as before, over the same distance, as far as the universe is concerned — except that it isn’t concerned, it doesn’t care, doesn’t know we ever existed —” She caught her breath. “And yet the return will take nine days longer than the going did.”