The first Hesperian Queen didn't have a chance to last out his lifetime; he kept trading her in for another and yet another model, as better, faster, more luxurious starships were developed. Finally, he outbid the Federation Government itself for plans of the latest-model spacecraft. When the government protested, he graciously gave them copies free of all charge. "I merely wanted to be sure that I had the best ship available," he explained. "I have no objection to your having it also. But I knew that you could not afford to be as generous as I can."
He never had more than one ship, because it was too dangerous to run more than one cargo at a time. His crew was always as small in number as possible. He would have preferred none at all; actually, all spaceships could run themselves, for the controls were completely automatic. But regulations said there had to be a crew, both for the sake of "face"—many extraterrestrials couldn't seem to recognize the authority of machines—and because a power failure was not inconceivable.
So the Hesperian Queen carried four men. And, whenever she made the Jump through hyperspace, even the crew—though conditioned on Earth—was drugged. Mattern carried on alone. And if, when the crewmen awakened, they found that a day had passed when only an hour should have gone by, they knew better than to ask questions.
So the years went by—busy, pleasant, profitable years. The image of Lyddy was always before him, inspiring him to further efforts. Someday soon I will go back to her, he would tell himself. On his latest birthday, he looked in the mirror closely. At twenty-four, he had appeared forty; at forty, he could have passed for thirty. Sixteen years had gone by since that night with Lyddy. Now he was worthy of her or anyone.
"I think it's time I went back for her," he told the kqyres.
"For whom?" the kqyres asked; then added hastily, "Oh, yes, of course, Lyddy. We'll do that right after we come back from the Vega System. There's a little Earth-type planet out there—"
"Before we go to Vega," Mattern interrupted. "Now."
"But why the hurry? You've waited so long already—"
"I've waited too long. I'm not young any more."
"Neither is she," observed the kqyres. "Perhaps she is too old now, Mattern."