know for certain, but I think
it might have something to do with the telepathy.”
She nodded, looking thoughtful and a lot more relaxed. “Years ago I spent some time
doing research at a university in the Punartam System. I met a Sadiri mindship pilot
there. He always wore gloves, always kept his head covered. I thought it was cultural
at first, but maybe there’s more to it than that.”
Freyda had just proved herself to be a typical techie. Ask herto remember the arbitrary rules of some foreign etiquette and she fretted. Give her
a possible scientific explanation for a social behavior and she was fine.
Road trips, now, are a real test of character, and I had no idea how she would handle
the long and sometimes boring drives. I soon discovered that you could get her to
sing from any musical or opera, very loudly, as the car rolled along, and sometimes
I’d join in, though with less volume and skill. Poor Dllenahkh, who was accustomed
to far quieter rides, would look at us sideways with an expression of mild terror.
But even Dllenahkh warmed to her when she switched into technical mode. He listened
to her very, very closely, their heights almost matching, constantly nodding and nodding
as she rattled off some aspect of her latest theory. At one point, I could swear I
saw him looking at her almost dreamily, as if he had ceased to listen to the content
of her words and was thinking about something else.
I was getting ready to tease him about having a romantic crush to rival my professional
crush, but then he caught me by surprise the following week. I had been expecting
Kavelan to replace him as the homesteading liaison, Kavelan being a young but sober-headed
subordinate in the office whom I had encountered several times over the past year
or so. Instead, a completely new face turned up. It was difficult to guess how old
he was, but I estimated from his aura of maturity that he was closer to Dllenahkh’s
age than the average Sadiri male of the homesteadings.
Dllenahkh did the introductions. “This is my replacement, Dr. Lanuri. He will be joining
us for inspections henceforth.”
Dr. Lanuri inclined his head, and Freyda and I gave little bows in turn. He had creases
on his face that looked suspiciously like laugh lines, but if they were, they had
not been used for a very long time. He still bore the slightly vacant expression of
deepdepression that had characterized Dllenahkh and many of the other Sadiri in the earlier
days of settlement.
I wish I could say I was given the opportunity to get to know him better, but after
a quick briefing on the inspection schedule, Dllenahkh led us out to not one groundcar
but two.
He said, “Given that our vehicles must occasionally serve as temporary shelters, I
considered it unwise to approach the passenger limit too closely. Therefore, each
team will go in its own groundcar. The nav systems have been linked. I wish you a
safe and pleasant journey, Dr. Lanuri, Dr. Mar.”
And then he positively dashed toward a car with what for a Sadiri smacked of unnatural
and unseemly haste. I followed, bemused by the teasing lilt to his formal and unnecessary
farewell to Dr. Lanuri (the first leg of our rounds was only a two-hour journey, after
all) and wondering if I had imagined seeing an exasperated glint in Dr. Lanuri’s eye—rather
like the one I usually get when my mother starts hinting that a second son-in-law
and more grandchildren would be nice.
“You know,” I said to him once we had started off, “I’m thinking the Ministry of Family
Planning would be more subtle than you were just now. Perhaps you should leave the
matchmaking to them.”
Dllenahkh pretended to look aggrieved, but his demeanor reeked of too much satisfaction
for it to be convincing. “I do not understand what you mean by that statement. It
is more convenient for Dr. Mar and Dr. Lanuri to go together in one vehicle so they
can