Of course, that wasn’t the reason he had lately moved his residence and the seat of government to Tsukimachi in the Jura. Port Bowen was a company town, in Anson Guthrie’s ghostly pocket, and half the time Fireball was at loggerheads with governments, the national, the Federation, the Lunar Authority. Not that that had ever led to disorder, but the lesser companies centered here were more cooperative. If the percentage of resident Lunarians was higher, that had its advantages as well as it drawbacks.
“Buenos dias,” Wahl greeted his son. Rita he had kissed when they woke.
Leandro mumbled an answer. He kept his face turned downward. His gaudy outfit was at odds with his behavior.
“Where is Pilar?” Wahl continued in Spanish.
“She said she wasn’t hungry,” Rita replied.
Wahl frowned. A wound reopened and a part of his pleasure drained out. Again the girl was moping in her room. It had been happening too often to be mere sulk. What was the matter, then? Depression brought on by loneliness? Fourteen was so vulnerable an age. How could he tell, what could he say? Pilar was a good child, she deserved to be’ happy. If, just once, she brought herself to confide in him, or at least in her mother—When did children ever give parents that overwhelming gift?
He sat down. Rita poured coffee before joining him. He crossed himself and sipped. The flavor went robust and friendly through his mouth.
“What are your plans for today?” he asked Leandro. Saturday, no school. Homework? If there was any, it would be scamped, or neglected altogether. The boy’s scores were terrible. It wasn’t due to lack of intelligence; he’d been bright and eager on Earth.
Leandro didn’t look at him. “Nothing special.”
The father forced a smile. “I have trouble believing that.” In fact, Leandro was more sociable than his sister. But Wahl didn’t like the lot he went about with—louts, loudmouths, no credit to the Earth genes they bragged of. More than once, quarrels with their Lunarian classmates had exploded into fights. Not that the Lunarians never provoked it.
“When I was sixteen,” Wahl said, “I’d have been outdoors by now.” Horse at a gallop, hoofs drumming, surge of muscles between his thighs, grass in billows beneath the wind, a hawk overhead—if only such spaciousness existed anywhere in space!
Leandro tossed his head. “That was then.”
“Hold on,” Wahl rapped. “We will have courtesy here.”
The boy started to rise. “I’m not hungry either.”
“Sit down. You will finish what’s on your plate and you will answer my question.”
Leandro yielded, knowing he’d spend the daycycle confined to quarters if he didn’t. Tone and expression conveyed his resentment. “Pardon me … sir. I am meeting some fellows in about an hour. We are going to Hoshi Park.”
Not likely, Wahl thought. Not those decorous amusements. The Ginza? Or worse? Unwise to insist on knowing. “Be home for dinner.”
“I am not sure I—”
“You heard me. Hour 1^00, in time to dress^proper-ly. No later.”
teandro flushed fiery. He wolfed his food, mouthed a formal request for leave to go, and stalked out. A meal in silence had little savor. “You were too hard on him, dear,” Rita ventured sadly.
“I didn’t enjoy it,” Wahl reminded her. “Without discipline, he could get into serious trouble.”
“I understand. This horrible atmosphere, conflict, racial tension, and too few safe, healthy outlets—“ She touched his hand. “But perhaps we should be gentler. It’s not easy being young. Here, it’s very hard, for both of them.”
He regarded her. She was short, well-formed, round-faced, always an excellent helpmate and hos-less, but her bubbliness had dwindled on the Moon. More than the social and political situation oppressed her. She was among those who could never quite be physically comfortable in low gravity. “Harder on you,” he said, “and you don’t complain.”
She smiled a little. “Nor you, old duty lugger.”
“I’ve enjoyed past duty more,” he admitted. Even police actions and relief efforts in stricken corners of Earth. Even the niggling negotiations and boring parties that a Federation delegate must endure. He hadn’t wanted to enter politics, but they persuaded him that Argentina needed someone of his caliber in Hiroshima, and, yes, he had gotten several worthwhile things accomplished. For those, his reward was first to be talked into administration of the African Protectorate and now into this cauldron called Luna.