“Huh? Thanks, but as I told you, this is my place. Uh, where are you going?”
“Territa, out toward the Hyades. Nice place they are charging a stiff premium.”
Rod shrugged. “Then I couldn’t afford it.”
“As my lieutenant, you’d be exempt. But I wasn’t twisting your arm; I just thought you ought to have a chance to turn it down. I have to get along with your sister, you know.”
Rod glanced at Helen. “Sorry, Sis.”
“It’s all right, Buddy. We’re not trying to live your life.”
“Mmm . . . no. Matson puffed hard; then went on. “However, as your putative brother and former teacher I feel obligated to mention a couple of things. I’m not trying to sell you anything, but I’ll appreciate it if you’ll listen. Okay?”
“Well . . . go ahead.”
“This is a good spot. but you might go back to school, you know. Acquire recognized professional status. If you refuse recall, here you stay . . . forever. You won’t see the rest of the Outlands. They won’t give you free passage back later. But a professional gets around, he sees the world. Your sister and I have been on some fifty planets. School does not look attractive now you’re a man and it will be hard to wear boy’s shoes. But” Matson swept an arm, encompassed all of Cowpertown, “this counts. You can skip courses, get field credit. I have some drag with the Chancellor of Central Tech. Hmmm?”
Rod sat with stony face, then shook his head. “Okay,” said Matson briskly. “No harm done.”
“Wait. Let me tell you.” Rod tried to think how to explain how he felt . . . “Nothing, I guess,” he said gruffly.
Matson smoked in silence. “You were leader here,” he said at last.
“Mayor,” Rod corrected. “Mayor of Cowpertown. I was the Mayor, I mean.”
“You are the Mayor. Population one, but you are still boss. And even those bureaucrats in the control service wouldn’t dispute that you’ve proved the land. Technically you are an autonomous colony I hear you told Sansom that.” Matson grinned. “You’re alone, however. You can’t live alone, Rod . . . not and stay human.”
“Well, yes but aren’t they going to settle this planet?”
“Sure. Probably fifty thousand this year, four times that many in two years. But, Rod, you would be part of the mob. Theyll bring their own leaders.”
“I don’t have to be boss! I just well, I don’t want to give up Cowpertown.”
“Rod, Cowpertown is safe in history, along with Plymouth Rock, Botany Bay, and Dakin’s Colony. The citizens of Tangaroa will undoubtedly preserve it as a historical shrine. Whether you stay is another matter. Nor am I trying to persuade you. I was simply pointing out alternatives.” He stood up. “About time we started, Helen.”
“Yes, dear.” She accepted his hand and stood up.
“Wait a minute!” insisted Rod. “Deacon . . . Sis! I know I sound like a fool. I know this is gone . . . the town, and the kids, and everything. But I can’t go back.” He added, “It’s not that I don’t want to.”
Matson nodded. “I understand you.”
“I don’t see how. I don’t.”
“Maybe I’ve been there. Rod, everyone of us is beset by two things: a need to go home, and the impossibility of doing it. You are at the age when these hurt worst. You’ve been thrown into a situation that makes the crisis doubly acute. You don’t interrupt me you’ve been a man here, the old man of the tribe, the bull of the herd. That is why the others could go back but you can’t. Wait, please! I suggested that you might find it well to go back and be an adolescent for a while . . . and it seems unbearable. I’m not surprised. It would be easier to be a small child. Children are another race and adults deal with them as such. But adolescents are neither adult nor child. They have the impossible, unsolvable, tragic problems of all fringe cultures. They don’t belong, they are second-class citizens, economically and socially insecure. It is a difficult period and I don’t blame you for not wanting to return to it. I simply think it might pay. But you have been king of a whole world; I imagine that term papers and being told to wipe your feet and such are out of the question. So good luck. Coming, dear?”