He had an eerie feeling that she was trying to say, "My baby," and he felt a little chill of pity creep up his spine.
"What do you do?" he asked kindly.
"Sweep floors. I work a little for the Commander's wife. Around her home."
"How did you get here?"
Still crying, she said, "On a rocket."
"Of course. What I meant was...." But he did not need to ask how she had gotten passed the emigration officers. Some influential man—such things could happen, especially when the destination was a relatively new frontier, such as Helio, where there was little danger of investigation—had seen to it that certain answers were falsified; and a little money and a corrupt official had conspired to produce a passport which read, "Mentally and physically fit for colonization."
The influential man had, in effect, bought and paid for a personal slave to bring with him to the stars. She would not know of her legal rights. She would be easily frightened and confused. And then something had happened, and for some reason she had been abandoned to shift for herself. Perhaps she had run away.
He looked away from her face. This was none of his affair.
"Never mind," he said. He reached into his pocket and gave her a few coins and then turned and walked rapidly away, suddenly anxious to see the bright, remembered face of the young colonist, Doris, Don's friend; a face that would chase away the memory of this pathetic creature.
After a moment, he heard the pad of her feet hopefully, fearfully following him.