Date: 5/30/2440 Time: 10:35 PM CST
“Lola Rhea,” Matt said as he stepped into the kitchen, finding his old nanny at the table with T’mari. “Mano po,” he added, kneeling to lift her withered hand to his forehead. “Thank you for entertaining my guest while I was away. I still haven’t mastered being in two places at once.”
“You’re a good boy, Matthew,” she said warmly. “And thank you for the fish and mangoes yesterday. I’m an old woman, I should be getting home.”
“Is Peter waiting for you?”
“He’s probably off chatting with that new girl you hired at the stables.”
“Not at all, Lola,” Peter said from the doorway. “I’ve been ready for ten minutes, knowing you’d want to leave soon.”
“I’m not getting any younger,” she murmured, rising to take his arm.
“Does she have far to go?” T’mari asked.
“No, just a short walk,” Matt said. “When her husband died, my father built her a house on the property. She raised him, he was the first in our family she cared for. My sister and I came next.”
“She seems quite elderly,” T’mari said, keeping her tone composed. Being alone with Matt was… unsettling. He smelled good to her, in a way no man ever had.
“She’s 137. Your people aren’t the first refugees we’ve welcomed here. Her village was nearly wiped out by a volcano in the Philippines when she was four. My family helped resettle them.”
“That is a great age. She must be honored by her people.”
“Not as much as she should be. But she calls this place home and we honor her. She stayed when others left, cared for her parents, taught math at the local school for forty-two years, retired more than seventy years ago. I’ve known her my whole life, she was the grandmother I never had.”
“If I’m to see her again, I must learn that gesture of respect. If it’s appropriate, I’d like to teach it to my family. Among our people, honoring elders is sacred.”
“That’s why your family was given ships instead of being exiled outright,” Matt said. “You honor the old ways. That kind of ideological honor makes the powerful nervous. Your mother told me.”
“She wouldn’t have told you that,” T’mari said, surprised. “I’m more surprised she told you she was my mother.”
“She didn’t need to. When she spoke of you, I saw it in her eyes, she’s proud. So I asked. I assume the medical student assigned to me is your younger sister?”
“You’re very perceptive,” T’mari laughed. “L’tani is brilliant, but often incredibly annoying.”
“Mine was too. And I miss her every day.”
“I don’t want to intrude,” T’mari said gently, realizing he used the past tense.
“It’s good to remember those we’ve lost,” Matt replied, lifting a framed photo from the wall. “That’s us as kids.”
“You’d be called all arms and legs,” she said, smiling.
“We’d say the same,” he chuckled, replacing the picture. “Thanks for the laugh. I needed it. Are you hungry?”
“I had a nutrient bar earlier. It’s enough for now.”
“Enough to survive, sure. But are you hungry for real food?”
“You offer me a luxury. I’ve lived mostly on rations for a year.”
“I grow luxury. This land once fed nations. Around here, eating like this is daily life.”
“Our world had to feed forty billion.”
“Earth’s down to about six billion, plus fifty million on the Moon and twenty million on Mars. We hit thirteen billion once, but a quarter century of plague and collapse took its toll. The 2073 plague alone cut the population by more than half. By the end of that century, we were down to five billion. Later outbreaks left us with four billion, a number so low we hadn’t seen it in centuries.”
“Your beacon broadcasts told some of that story. Our own past isn’t so different. We only unified after the Hs’Sing Empire attacked a hundred of your years ago. Before that we fought each other and raided everywhere else for resources.”
“I’ve been hesitant to ask about other species.”
“Many are like us, seeded by the Progenitors. Others… are very much not.”
“Fascinating,” Matt said, tossing a salad. “Tell me about your passengers.”
“The colonists or I guess now your refugee problem as you might think of us. None from our highest classes. Most of the officer corps and some others are like me, high-born, but not nobles. Two-thirds are children by your standard. We have many professionals, but mostly laborers, the kind you need to start a new colony.”
“So they sent you with the people they didn’t value, or like your uncles W’ren and K’rem, whose honor bothered those with more moral flexibility,” he said, not unkindly.
“Yes,” she admitted, startled when he smiled.
“Good. That’s exactly who we need here. You’ll find similar folks here, honest, hardworking. And we’ve struggled to keep our youth from fleeing to the cities. Laborers are always welcome on my land,” he said, pulling leftover lechon manok from the bone.
“The chance to grow food under an open sky is a dream we never dared imagine. I once thought my cousin’s twenty-meter terraced garden was a palace.”
“In time, I can settle every one of you on my personal lands.”
“You own that much?”
“Not yet for all one million, but I will by the end of the week. I’ll show you after we eat,” he said, setting plates. “Wasn’t expecting company, so it’s simple.”
“It looks wonderful,” she said, eyeing the chicken salad and fresh bread.
“Most of this came from my farm.”
An hour later, she set her fork down with reverence. “I’ve never eaten so richly. You honor me.”
“Then let me offer another honor,” Matt said, rising and offering his hand. “T’mari of House Th’ron, be a guest in my home. Welcome at my hearth and table. Sleep in peace beneath my roof. I offer shelter, sanctuary, and refuge.”
She stood, taking his hand. “I accept you as host and will defend your home as my own.”
He led her upstairs, not to his quarters, she noticed, with a mix of relief and disappointment.
“These were my sister’s,” he said softly. “Bathroom’s through there. Hot water’s on the right, cold on the left. This is,” he stopped not knowing what to call a toilet in diplomatic wording.
“I know what it is,” she said, amused. “Your media made it very clear not to use the ones in the middle of hardware stores.”
Matt laughed, genuine and surprised. “My room’s at the end of the hall. Knock if you need anything. Come down when you’re ready for breakfast.”
“Will my uniform be appropriate?”
“It’s fine. If you want something more comfortable, check the top drawer. I’ll have some Earth-style clothes brought tomorrow to give you variety and help you feel at home.”
“That’s thoughtful. I look forward to it.”
“Good night, T’mari of House Th’ron,” he said, closing the door gently.
Then he padded back down to the kitchen, to do the dishes and file his reports.
