This time the merchant had had his wife with him. She had been crying, and was making an effort to control her voice. “Would you tell him if you see him up there that… that—”
Tsuroak comforted her. Deitrich gloomily nodded, gazing about the field. “Sure,” he said. “If I run into him, I’ll give him the whole story.”
“We appreciate that,” Tsuroak said humbly. “Just so he understands.”
Gently and gravely, Deitrich shook hands with both of them. He said, “I’m sure he will understand. And he’ll be a better man for all your trouble.”
He knew as he said it that it was practically certain that he would never see their son. The odds were astronomically against it, without spending a long time searching for him. And Deitrich would not be able to do that.
It was then that he saw her. She was standing near the customs building, shyly looking out from a corner. He beckoned to her and waited, knowing she would come.
“Well?” he asked her. “Are you ready?”
There were no tears here. She returned his gaze levelly, but her voice was doubtful as she echoed, “Ready?”
Deitrich nodded and smiled. “You wouldn’t have come if you did not intend to let me talk you into leaving.”
There appeared to be something wrong with her voice, so he explained. “If you come with me, you will be just resuming the habits you have had for over half your life, except for the past four years. And what’s more, you’ll find that the ship is your home—and mine.”
Sara looked up at the sky timidly, but she nodded her head. “All right,” she said in a low, tired voice.
“So.” Deitrich indicated the ship. “Get in.”
“But my things—” she protested. “All my things—”
“Get in,” Deitrich repeated. “Those things never were yours. You just borrowed them.” And he added gently, “I’ll give you things you can keep.”