Fledgling

by Sharon Lee

  * * *

  Someone close by was singing something soft and abstract, like honeybumbles in the flowers. Beneath the song was the soft, familiar click of keys. Kamele sang like that sometimes, Theo thought, drifting comfortably awake, when she was concentrating. It was a different kind of singing than she did for the chorale—more like a cat purring contentment. Theo sighed, broke the surface of wakefulness and opened her eyes.

  Barely two hand-spans away, Kamele sat cross-legged on the rug, her 'book on her knee, face downturned, fingers moving gently on the keys, her hair wisping around her shoulders in disorderly waves. Coyster was sprawled on the rug at her side, snoring.

  Theo sighed again, and her mother looked up from her work, the song murmuring into silence.

  "I'm sorry," Theo whispered.

  Kamele's eyebrows rose. "Sorry for what?"

  Sorry for the song ending, Theo thought, but what she said was, "There's another note in my file—probably two." She bit her lip. "I guess you got the report from Viverain . . ."

  "Professor Viverain was extremely complimentary," Kamele said. "She praised your skill and your commitment to your Team."

  Theo blinked. "She did?"

  "She did," her mother answered, glancing down to fold up her 'book and set it aside. She looked back to Theo. "The Safety Officer was another matter."

  "I know," Theo whispered, remembering the red-haired Safety. "She said I had a societal obligation not to hurt other people." She tried to sit up, gasping as her ribs grabbed, sending a bright spark of pain along her side.

  "Easy." Cool hands caught hers, and Kamele helped her up. Theo closed her eyes, waiting until the sparks subsided into a sullen ache.

  "The report said your ribs were bruised, and that the A-Teamer gave you an analgesic and a muscle relaxant. Have you taken anything since you've been home?"

  Theo shook her head. "The rug got delivered, and then I talked to Lesset, and then Coyster and I . . . took a nap."

  "An excellent idea," Kamele said, not even asking if her solos were done. "You haven't eaten anything?"

  "I . . . had a cup of soy milk."

  Kamele half-smiled. "That's something, I suppose. Well . . ." She pulled her mumu out, and sent Theo a questioning glance. "I'm calling for dinner. What would you like?"

  "Um . . . veggie fried rice?"

  Her mother nodded, tapped a quick message into her mumu and put it on top of her 'book. On the rug, Coyster extended his back legs, pink toes stretching wide, and relaxed all at once with a tiny, satisfied moan.

  Theo smiled, and leaned over—carefully—to rub his belly.

  "I went to see Marjene," she said slowly, watching Kamele out of the side of her eye. Her mother nodded, looking politely interested, which, Theo suspected darkly, she'd probably learned from Fa—

  She took a breath and sat up, her hand braced on the rug next to Coyster's tail.

  "Marjene says—she says there are drugs that can . . ." She stumbled, not liking any of the words available. Marjene had said cured, but was being clumsy an illness?

  "She said, if I may make a supposition," Kamele said coolly, "that there are drugs which can prevent you harming other people through your well-documented 'physical limitations.' Is that correct?"

  Theo nodded, all the misery of the afternoon suddenly back, and her stomach starting to ache again. "She said that—you refused them—the drugs—for me?" She paused, took a breath and said, properly. "I'd like to understand why."

  Kamele put her elbow on her knee and her chin in her hand. There was a tiny line between her eyebrows, and her eyes were serious.

  "It's a complex issue," she said gravely, "but I'll do my best to answer, all right?"

  Theo nodded.

  Kamele sighed, then said slowly. "It is, of course, our obligation to do what we can to promote order and safety within our society of scholars. In a perfect intellectual society, such as the Founding Trustees envisioned, tending to our personal obligations and responsibilities would be enough to ensure that order is preserved." She smiled slightly. "Unfortunately, the Founding Trustees had been . . . a little too optimistic about human nature. So, we created the Office of Academic Safety, to help us maintain the environment to which we aspire." She paused.

  Theo nodded to show she was following this. She knew the story of the Founding, of course, but her teachers hadn't even hinted that the Founders were human, must less capable of what Kamele seemed to be saying was an . . . well, it was a protocol error, that's what—but Kamele was talking again.

  "Sometimes, because it has so much to do, the Safety Office . . . becomes overzealous. When this happens, so some of us feel, it is our responsibility to oppose it, just as much as it is our responsibility to work for orderliness in our everyday lives."

  There was a pause. Theo frowned.

  "So you decided not to follow the Safeties' advice because of a . . . philosophical difference?" she asked slowly.

  Kamele actually laughed. "Not quite. What I mean to say is that we're obligated to scrutinize the recommendations the Safeties make to us; to do our own research and to draw our own conclusions. We're scholars, and this is how scholars deal. So," she waved her free hand—maybe at her mumu, maybe at the desk.

  "So," she said again. "When this issue of the drugs—of the so-called cure—first came up with the Safety Office, I did what any scholar would do; I did my research. And I found a number of . . . interesting . . . facts.

  "The first is that there is a . . . small but significant . . . proportion of the population who share what the Safety Office terms your 'physical limitations' who . . . find that those difficulties resolve themselves at some point near their Gigneri."

  Theo sat up straighter, ignoring the snap of pain from her ribs.

  Kamele nodded. "Yes, that's an interesting fact, isn't it? But the second fact is even more so." She paused, as if to make sure she had Theo's full attention. "It seems that the recommended drugs are not . . . quite . . . as benign as the Safety Office assures us that they are. Indeed, several of the offered 'cures' measurably limit learning, and make it difficult to concentrate. These findings also seemed significant, especially for a student who is in the process of acquiring her Core Learning."

  On the rug, Coyster yawned, noisily, and rolled to his feet. He gave his shoulder a quick lick and headed for the back of the room, bumping Theo cheerfully as he passed by.

  "Now," Kamele said. "Since Marjene has brought this issue to you and made it your responsibility, you may wish to exercise your right to research, and to form your own conclusions. I can, if you wish, send you citations from my own research, and that of Professor Kiladi. They may be helpful as a starting point, or you may wish to construct your own protocol, independent of our findings."

  Theo licked her lips, thinking of Marjene, of how certain she'd sounded. Maybe, she thought, Marjene trusted the Safety Office too much? That was an interesting idea Kamele raised, the notion that the Safety Office could—in some cases should—be opposed . . .

  "I'd like the citations," she said, "very much, please, Mother."

  Kamele nodded. "I'll forward them to you tomorrow, along with the list provided by the Safety Office, of those drugs they deem safe and effective."

  "Thank you," Theo said, around a slight shiver. Hadn't, she wondered, the Safety Office done its research?

  She looked up. "I—Marjene's pretty . . . upset with me. If you haven't gotten a note, you will," she said slowly. "She—well, I left in the middle of our meeting. I didn't—"

  "Marjene was pushing you," Kamele said tartly; "and interfering where she had no right. Perhaps a little distress will clear her mind." She straightened, stretching her arms wide.

  A gong sounded. Dinner, thought Theo, suddenly ravenous, is here.

  "Right on cue," Kamele said and rolled to her feet. She held her hands down, and Theo took the boost. "I'll meet you at the table," she said, heading for the door.

  "Kamele!" Theo bit her lip, but it was too late.
Her mother turned, one hand on her door.

  "Yes, Daughter? Is there something else?"

  "I—will you—" she took a breath, feeling perilously close to tears. "Are you going to, to take another onagrata?"

  Kamele closed her eyes, and opened them, looking tired.

  "Not right now, Theo," she said quietly.

  The gong sounded again; she slapped the door open and was gone, her footsteps sharp against the ceramic floor.

  Twelve

  Cultural Genetics Program

  Bjornson-Bellevale College of Arts and Sciences

  University of Delgado

  Oktavi caught Theo curiously off-balance.

  On the one hand, it had arrived with breathtaking speed, but on the other, so much had happened that it seemed years between the scavage game and the moment when she and the rest of the Team were finally able to close their 'books and put learning behind them for the day.

  "See you tomorrow," Theo called generally, turning down the hall that led to the cross-campus belt, her pace increasing. She swung up onto the belt and winced as her bruised ribs protested.

  "Ow," she muttered, and shifted the bag over her shoulder.

  "If you keep jumping around like that," a husky voice said in her ear, "you're not going to give yourself time to heal."

  "Kartor." Theo turned her head. "It's just bruises," she said.

  He nodded, settling his own pack. "But there's bruises and bruises. If the bones are bruised, that's more serious than just surface bruises. Hurts more. Takes longer to heal."

  "I don't think the bones are bruised," Theo said. "The doctor didn't say so."

  "You're lucky she didn't break your ribs," Kartor said darkly.

  "Oh, I don't think she could've done that . . ."

  "You don't? Roni's 'way bigger than you are and she had leverage. Do the math, Theo. I betcha the Review Board will."

  He's really mad, Theo thought, throwing a glance at him. His face was tense, with hard lines bracketing his mouth.

  She bit her lip, not sure what to say to make him calmer. The scavage game had been days ago, after all. If he was still upset about it—and it seemed like he was—then he needed . . . Theo hesitated.

  Kartor needs to talk to his mentor, she thought carefully, tasting the idea like it was brand-new, which was silly. Your mentor was there to help you work through bad feelings. Everybody knew that.

  But what if Kartor's mentor was like Marjene?

  Theo bit her lip. The Eyes don't watch everything, she heard the whisper from memory. Even we know that.

  Kartor shook his head and gave her a sideways look, the corner of his mouth twisting up in a kind of lopsided grin.

  "By the way, mind if I ride with you?"

  " 'Course not," Theo said, surprised. Kartor's mother worked in the Systems Group just off Central Station. He'd ridden the belt with her that far on more than one Oktavi evening.

  "Notice how the Team's been working better the last couple days?" he asked, and Theo eyed him, wondering if he was going to try to pump her for details of the preliminary hearing, like Lesset had.

  The hearing had been frightening and infuriating. Roni's mother had immediately requested that Theo be put into Remedial Tutoring "for the good of the majority" until the Review Board had time to rule. Breath caught, Theo'd waited, wondering around a feeling of sick dread what her mother would say.

  But Kamele had only put her hand on Theo's shoulder, and hadn't said a thing.

  The Review Chair, though, looked over the top of her glasses at Roni's mother, and said, her voice light and perfectly pleasant, "The Committee has not yet done its work, Professor Mason. However, if you feel that your daughter is at risk in the Team environment, we will entertain a plea for a Safety Order, and place her in Small Group Study until a ruling is made."

  Roni's mother had gotten red in the face, just like Roni did when she was upset, but she hadn't had much choice, since she'd brought the issue up. She'd taken out the Safety Order, which stipulated that Theo and Roni would stay away from each other until the Committee ruled, and accepted a temporary place in Small Groups for Roni.

  That had been more than all right with Theo. And, surprisingly, it had been all right with the rest of the Team, too.

  "We don't seem to be—I don't know—rushing so much," Theo said slowly, as the belt whisked them past the Center Court Coop.

  "We're not as worried," Kartor said firmly. "I've been thinking about it, and you know what? I think Roni's an—an unacceptable strain on the Team."

  Theo blinked. "You think the match program made a mistake?"

  "I know it's not supposed to," he said, shrugging. "My aunt's in Team Management, and she says the algorithm's pretty solid. If that's true—then they put Roni with us on purpose." He gave her an unhappy look. "Do you think they wanted us to fail?"

  Theo thought about that as the belt slowed through Central Station, remembering the sets protocol from math. Where did you put the set of all things that didn't match anything else?

  "Maybe they just lumped all the misfits together," she said, and bit her lip when Kartor laughed.

  "I didn't mean—" she started, face hot, but he held up a hand, still laughing.

  "No, you're right! Look at us! Anj has bad wiring in her on-off switch; Estan's lost without his rule book; Roni has to tell everybody else what to do; Lesset's butter-brained, and I'm a slacker. You're the only one who's normal!"

  "Oh, I'm normal, all right," Theo muttered, but Kartor was laughing too hard to hear. Somewhat miffed, she looked out at the corridor. Two more stops until the Cultural Diversity Wing—she swung back to Kartor, pointing.

  "Talk about being butter-brained—you missed your intersection!"

  Kartor shook his head. "No, I've got an extra, down in the senior seminar space."

  Theo eyed him. "I thought you said you were a slacker."

  He grinned at her. "Yeah, but I'm not stupid."

  They rode for a few minutes in silence, before Theo's curiosity got the better of her.

  "So, what's your extra?"

  Kartor looked down at the belt, like he was suddenly embarrassed, then looked back her. "You won't laugh at me," he said, with emphasis, and took a deep breath. "Etiquette."

  "Etiquette?" Theo blinked. Etiquette was pre-Team. Kartor couldn't be doing a make-up on that, could he? And then she remembered the other thing he'd said—

  "The senior seminar room," she said out loud, and looked at him. Kartor looked back—warily, she thought, like he wasn't sure after all that she wouldn't laugh. "You're taking Traveler's Etiquette? With Professor Sandaluin? Kartor, that's a restricted senior seminar!"

  "Well, I'm only auditing," he said, sounding apologetic. "It is supposed to be restricted, but my mentor applied for me to sit in without grades, as long as I keep up. If I do all right, Professor Sandaluin'll give me a letter, and that's really all I need, 'cause I'm going to have to pass the corporation's training, anyhow, after I'm accepted."

  "Accepted where?" Theo asked.

  Kartor's grin was tight at the edges, his voice a little too bright. "I'm going to get a job on the station."

  Theo thought about that. Kartor's family was only accidentally academic. His mother, his aunt, and his oldest sister were all in Information Systems. They had more of a knack for doing than for teaching—she'd overheard Professor Grinmordi say so, but not like she thought having a knack for doing was a particularly good thing.

  "Doesn't your mother want you to go into Systems?"

  He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "My firstap's been accepted, and I'm scheduled to take the tests at the Interval." He shrugged again. "Ilsa's Gigneri's coming up, and my mother's pretty involved in that. I told her about the tests and she said it might be good if I was out from under foot for a couple days."

  "The tests are given on-station?"

  He nodded. "The corporation tests in groups over the Interval, so it's not like I'll be unsupervised. And if I can get a letter from Pro
fessor Sandaluin, that'll be a good note to have in my file!"

  "It sure will," Theo agreed, remembering Father's comments about the professor in question. "She expects perfection, is what I heard."

  Kartor shrugged again. "She's no worse than Appletorn," he said. "And I don't need a letter from him." He looked around, hitching his bag on his shoulder. "I get off here."

  "Me, too."

  They swung off the belt together and strolled down the long hallway, red, green, orange, and blue status lights twinkling at each door.

  "Here's my stop," Theo said, turning right toward the door marked Jen Sar Kiladi, Gallowglass Chair, and Professor of Cultural Genetics. As she approached, the status light snapped out. The door opened and the man himself stepped into the hallway, his stick in one hand and his bag in the other.

  "Theo," he said gravely, then looked to her companion. "Good evening, Mr. Singh."

  "Professor Kiladi." To Theo's astonishment, Kartor bowed, wobbling a little because of the pack on his shoulder, and straightened.

  One strong eyebrow rose. "Ah." He returned the bow, fluid and effortless despite his own burdens, and straightened while Kartor considered him ruefully.

  "I see that I've got to work on my timing," Kartor said wryly.

  "Indeed. But you must be of good heart. I swear to you that the thing can be learned."

  Kartor grinned. "Thanks," he said, and raised a hand. "I'll see you tomorrow, Theo."

  "See you tomorrow," she answered, and turned to watch him walk away, in his loose-jointed, careless way. She turned back to a pair of noncommittal black eyes in a perfectly composed face, and had time to wonder what she'd done that was interesting before he inclined his head.

  "Where shall you like to eat this evening, Theo?"

  She hesitated, biting her lip, not knowing whether she should even ask . . .

  "Speak," he said lightly. "If the scheme is more than my aged self can support, be certain that I will tell you so immediately. My sense of self-preservation is strong."

  "All right," Theo said carefully. "I'd like to—" She cleared her throat. "I wonder if we can't just go—go hom—to your house and have toasted cheese sandwiches and tea?"