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station in twelve months by which time the colonists were expecting a rescue mission.”

“And from there,” Zebara said, “it was . . . re-routed. It never reached Fleet.”

“But that’s ...”

“It was already embarrassing. The contract under which the colonists signed on specified the placement of the emergency pod. When that message arrived at the station, it was proof that no pod had been provided. And twelve months already? Suppose they had sent a mission then. What would they have found? From this point we have no direct proof, but we expect that someone made the decision to deepsix the whole file. To wait until the next scheduled delivery of factory parts, which was another two standard years, by which time they expected to find everyone dead. So sad, but this happens to colonies. It’s a dangerous business!”

Lunzie felt cold all over, then a white-hot rage. “It’s . . . it’s murder. Intentional murder!”

“Not under the laws of FSP at the time. Or even now. We couldn’t prove it. I say ‘we,’ but you know I mean those in Diplo’s government at the time. Anyway, when the ships came again, they found the survivors; the women, the children, and a few young men who had been children in the Long Winter. The first ship down affected not to know that anything had happened. To be surprised! But one of the Company reps on the second ship got drunk and let some of this out.”

She could think of nothing adequate to say. Luckily he didn’t seem to expect anything. After a few moments, he went back to family matters, telling her of his hopes for them. Gradually her mind quieted. By the time they parted, she carried away another memory as sweet as her first. It had no longer seemed perverse to have an old man’s hands touching her, an old man’s love still urgent after all those years.