Shadow World

by A. C. Crispin

  She waved to the autocam and continued smoothly, "Since my knowledge of people from other worlds has so far been

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  gained through books and the networks, I'm looking forward to meeting the students here at StarBridge." The words of her planned speech were surfacing in her mind.

  "They are looking forward to meeting you, also," he assured her. "And as for meeting people from other worlds, you will have a rare opportunity while you are here: a chance to meet an Elpind."

  Cara's heart leaped excitedly. "You're getting one of the ten!"

  "Well informed, as a journalist should be," said the Mizari approvingly. "I had wondered whether the long trip in hibernation might have caused you to miss the latest news."

  "I only spent two months in hibernation," Cara explained. "The last month I caught up on all that had been happening while I was asleep. One of the biggest stories, of course, was that ten Elspind had been chosen to be the first of their kind to leave Elseemar and visit selected CLS-member planets.

  StarBridge isn't exactly a planet; it didn't occur to me that one of them might come here."

  Cara didn't try to conceal her excitement at the Mizari's news. Until now, contact with the people of Elseemar had been carefully screened and limited by the CLS. As a result, anything Cara could discover about this relatively unknown world would be news to the average human viewer.

  "We were unsure ourselves after that regrettable episode of violence on Elseemar," Ssoriszs said. "The ten emissaries had just departed a few days earlier, and we thought the CLS might rescind their offer to sponsor the trip and send them back home. But they elected to let the goodwill tour continue."

  Cara nodded. "I'm glad they did, though what happened at that lab was a terrible tragedy. I understand that some radical group is demanding that the planetary government ban all offworlders."

  The Mizari nodded. "That is what I heard, also."

  "I'd like to get a chance to interview this Elpind about the entire incident.

  Maybe he or she can explain what was behind it all."

  "You will have that opportunity, though, of course, I cannot promise that Eerin will wish to answer those particular questions. None of the ten are scheduled to visit Earth," Ssoriszs

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  added. "You may well be the first human journalist with an opportunity to interview an Elpind."

  "That thought has been uppermost in my mind ever since you told me about this visit," Cara confessed with a grin.

  The Mizari hissed softly, and Cara decided it was his equivalent of laughter.

  I know because his fangs are folded back, she thought, pleased that she could "read" an alien and pleased, too, to realize that her nervousness was gone. "When will Eerin," she tested the name's pronunciation, "arrive?"

  "Twelve, perhaps fourteen days from now. You will have time to get acquainted with StarBridge first. I can give you a brief tour of the school now, if you wish."

  "Yes, please!"

  Ssoriszs uncoiled, and Cara followed her escort out the door. The smooth slither of the alien's limbless body over the floor fascinated her ... and so did the fact that she had to stretch her legs to keep up.

  As they followed the gentle curve of the corridor, Ssoriszs explained that this large asteroid, rich in the energy-producing substance humans called

  "radonium," had been donated by his people, then towed into position by CLS engineers. Most of the Academy was constructed beneath its rocky crust. Four domes protruded above the surface. One of those domes, the smallest, was the shuttle hangar where Cara had disembarked.

  The second largest dome, an observation and lounge area, was the first stop on their tour. The view of the stars through the dome's transparent plas-steel was glorious. Sharp and unwinking because there was no atmosphere, they glowed with subtle variations in color, seeming amazingly close.

  Cara sank down on one of the couches intended for human occupants and stared upward raptly. "They're so beautiful," she whispered finally. "Which one is Sol? Earth's sun, I mean?"

  "I regret that your sun is too small to be visible from here," the Liaison told her, and the young journalist had to swallow down a sudden wave of homesickness. Determined not to give in to it, she concentrated fiercely on the view, turning her head so her camera would pick up every angle. Cara could also make out the shape and docking lights of nearby StarBridge Station silhouetted against the stellar profusion.

  "Our Academy is named for this sector of space," the Mizari 12

  said. "We have no sun nearby, so here it is always night ... and always beautiful. Because there is no nearby sun, this sector of space has long been a place for the S.V. ships to change course--far enough from the gravitational pull of any star that the ships may safely leave and reenter metaspace. Vessels traveling to and from most of the Fourteen Known Worlds pass through StarBridge Sector. Thus this central, 'bridge' location made this site ideal for our school."

  They left the observatory with Cara promising herself to visit its view at least once every day that she spent at StarBridge. The next stop was the huge auditorium dome called the Arena, and then they took a quick look at the botanical garden dome, housing plants and trees from many worlds in a riot of living, colorful shapes.

  "Some of our classes meet on this level," commented Ssoriszs as they left the botanical garden. "Would you care to see one in progress?"

  "Absolutely."

  Cara had thought she was prepared, but she still felt a sense of shock as the Mizari activated a viewing window. Perched on top of a lectern and waving feelers energetically was a creature that resembled an enormous wasp. The alien's antennae stroked what Cara knew was a voder and slurred, hissing sounds emerged.

  "That's an Apis!" whispered Cara excitedly. "What is it saying? What subject is this?" She looked at the students, recognizing Simiu, Heeyoon, Mizari, another Apis, a couple of Chhhh-kk-tu, and, of course, several humans. All were listening attentively. Some keyed notes on pocket computer links to accompany their recordings of the lecture.

  "Dr. Zenez is our chief dietician here at StarBridge," Ssoriszs said. "She's giving a guest lecture today on the psychological connection between the olfactory and the digestive systems in various species. Our students must be able to understand and control their instinctive reactions to odors and appearances of native foods if they are to eat on planets other than their own."

  Dietician! Cara remembered what a fit her mother threw if a fly landed on the food at a family picnic. What would Mama say if Dr. Zenez served her potato salad? She choked back

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  a giggle, trying to sound as if she were clearing her throat. "Ummmm ... what language is she speaking?"

  "My own," Ssoriszs replied. "Mizari is the official CLS language, therefore we use it here. Each student must be fluent in Mizari. That is in addition to whatever language they have chosen for their specialty."

  After a few moments of intent observation, Cara indicated her readiness to move on. Rounding the next corner, she could hear the same rapid, sibilant speech that had come from the dietician's voder. This time, however, the hissing sounds were sharply accentuated and the voice was several

  decibels louder ... and not, Cara realized quickly, just because the conversation was taking place in the hallway.

  The speaker was another serpentlike Mizari, a smaller one than Ssoriszs, but just as beautiful, with pale golden scales and brown patterns. The alien faced a human male who appeared to be two or three years older than Cara herself.

  "The teacher is angry?" Cara asked the CLS Liaison quietly, basing her guess mostly on the young man's defiant stance, but also on the stiff kinks in the alien's sinuous body and the jerky motions of the haloing tentacles.

  "Yes," answered Ssoriszs softly. "It seems the student has failed to complete an important assignment, not the first such failure, I gather. The teacher reminds the student that he was formerly one of her best and claims he must be deliberately sabotaging his potential."


  Cara studied the miscreant. He was of medium height, had dark blond hair, and a solid athletic build. Good-looking, she thought, watching him stand with his head up, his well-cut chin jutted out, stoically absorbing the teacher's tirade.

  The young man's eyes shifted to hold Cara's for a moment. She saw that they were a stormy greenish gray. The journalist looked away quickly, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

  "Come," said the Mizari. "We have much more to see."

  As they moved away, Cara wondered how she could find this student again.

  It would be interesting to interview someone who obviously was having problems. No school is perfect or has perfect students ... she thought. Not even the Academy at StarBridge, it seems ...

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  [

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  "Do you know that student's name, Esteemed One?" "He is a fourth-year student. Mark Kenner," Ssoriszs replied as his tentacles waved her aboard a nearby elevator. The lift pressed them gently against its walls as it went sideways, then dropped. "On the next level," said the Mizari, "we will see the library, the gym, and ..."

  "Mark, wait up!"

  The moment he heard himself hailed, Mark Kenner remembered what he'd forgotten. With a sigh he turned and let Sulinda Carmel, his girlfriend for nearly six months now, catch up to him. Her ebony curls tumbled prettily as she half jogged through the crowd of students outside the Arena. Her olive cheeks were flushed with anger.

  "I looked for you at lunch, but you didn't show. Did you forget you were supposed to meet me at the Spiral Arm?" Her black eyes sparkled with a mixture of irritation and concern as she stopped before him.

  "Susu, I'm really sorry," Mark said humbly. "I had something else on my mind. I didn't get an assignment in to Esteemed Rissaz, and she was furious ... and that was right before lunch, so I went to the library to try and catch up ..." Mark trailed off, seeing a tally in the girl's eyes of how many times he'd let her down these past two and a half months since his mother ...

  "Honest, it just slipped my mind, Su. If you'll forgive me, we could go to dinner instead."

  "Now that I've accosted you in the hallway, you mean? We wouldn't have had a lunch date if I hadn't arranged it, because you haven't called me in days. I don't deserve that, you know. If there's something you're trying to tell me, have the courtesy to tell me to my face."

  Two of Sulinda's traits that attracted Mark were her mercurial temper and her directness ... but not at the moment. After an already trying day, Mark's own temper threatened to stir, but he made another attempt to soothe her. "Come on," he coaxed. "You know I didn't stand you up deliberately. Rissaz bawled me out thoroughly, and my mind was on that instead of lunch, that's all."

  This time Sulinda picked up on his reference to the Mizari instructor. "Mark!

  Don't tell me the assignment you didn't

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  complete was that one on Mizari art forms, not after Rissaz gave you a two-week extension!" She was aghast.

  Sulinda ranked in the top five percentile, and Mark knew she'd never been late on an assignment in her life. Up to three months ago, he thought bitterly, neither had I.

  "Do you want to wash out of here? With only a year to go?" Her tone held more irritation than sympathy. "Don't you think that would be pretty stupid?"

  That stung ... and came far too close to a topic Mark wasn't ready to discuss.

  "What I want," he growled, "is for people to get off my case for just one day!"

  At his unexpected vehemence her eyes widened, and she backed away a step as if he'd threatened to strike her.

  "Shit," Mark groaned, reaching out for her. "I didn't mean it that way, Su. You know you're the only one I can ..." He had to stop, embarrassed by the unexpected lump in his throat.

  Sulinda took another step backward. Her eyes beneath her soft, tumbled bangs brimmed with angry tears. "Mark, I've tried to keep us together, but I'm tired of being the only one trying. It's been nearly three months since your mother died and you're still punishing yourself for something that was in no way your fault. That's bad enough; it's causing you to let go of your grades, your friends, everything you've worked for. But lately you've started punishing me] I don't intend to take it anymore!"

  "Well, no one's forcing you to. If all you want to do is fight today, I'll take a rain check, thanks." Mark turned his back on her and walked the short distance to his locker. He thumbed it open, then stood staring blankly at the inside, trying to remember just what it was he had to do for tomorrow. He had a lot of assignments due ... some of them, like Rissaz's report, overdue. I'll go to bed early, he rationalized, tossing his data cassettes inside, and study fresh in the morning ...

  Sulinda hadn't moved; he could feel her eyes on his back. Mark shut the locker and reluctantly turned to face her.

  Her dark eyes were brilliant with anger, but her voice was deadly quiet as she said, "I don't want to fight any more either, Mark. You're right. No one's forcing me, and I don't choose to be a masochist. I can't make you happy, and you're making me miserable." She took a couple of steps toward him and held

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  out an open palm. On it lay his fourth year pin. She'd taken it off the breast of her blue StarBridge jumpsuit while his back had been turned.

  He stared at her incredulously. "You really want to do this over one missed lunch?"

  "It's not one lunch and you know it. We've done nothing but go through the motions for weeks now. I think you pushed me into this because you didn't have the guts to do it yourself. Am I right?"

  No! You're wrong, Susu! Breaking up with you is the last thing I want. Why can't I tell you so? Mark wondered. Instead it was as if his mouth had a life of its own. "You're the one who's got it all figured out," he said evenly. "Not me."

  She nodded sharply. "Fine, then. Good luck, Mark. You're going to need it."

  Somehow the pin was in his hand. Mark stared at it as if he'd never seen it before. It showed him a tiny, holographic image of a rainbow bridge linking two planets against a black, star-studded sky. Emblazoned across the arch of the bridge were his initials: WMK. William Mark Kenner.

  He looked back up to find Sulinda gazing pointedly at the breast of his gold-colored jumpsuit where her own pin, identical to his except for the initials, rested. Somehow he fumbled it off.

  Sulinda took her pin back with a calm dignity. Before Mark could think of anything else to do or say, she was gone.

  Mark stood frozen by his locker, the little pin digging into his palm, for what seemed like a long time. Beneath the momentary anger and the hurt, he felt the bone-deep tiredness of depression that plagued him so often now. It coiled around his limbs, weighing him down. Finally he sighed and headed for the small suite he shared with a second-year student, Hamir Rajannipah.

  Hamir's short, slender frame was sprawled on the couch in their common living room. The eerie clattering of a Mizari windweed recording blasted from their sound system. Like Mark, Hamir was majoring in the Mizari culture.

  "Hey, Mark," he greeted over the din, "you're late."

  The older student made a perfunctory gesture, but didn't speak as he stalked past his roommate into his bedroom. The

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  message light was flashing on his computer link, but Mark

  ignored it. It's just Rob Gable, he thought with a grim certainty, wanting to know why I missed my counseling session today.

  Throwing himself on the bed, he flung an arm across his eyes to block out the illumination from the ceiling panels. He

  ¦couldn't muster the energy to order the lights to dim.

  "Mark?" There was a quick knock at the door, then Hamir

  [came in without waiting for an invitation. He surveyed his

  Ssuitemate with concern. "Uh-oh. You look like you just lost your best friend."

  "Yeah, well ..." Mark shrugged without emerging from the shelter of his arm.

  "Rough day."

  "You ready for dinner?"

  "No," he mumbled. "You go on."
/>
  "Thetor and I waited on you. I told him I'd call when you [got in. We were all going to study for tomorrow's test on Mizari generational taboos,

  remember?" [ "I'll catch up to you later," Mark promised, knowing he wouldn't. "It's been a long day. I just need a few minutes to myself."

  [ The boy hesitated, then shrugged. "Okay. Suit yourself." Hamir's words lingered behind after he'd gone. You look like you just lost your best friend ...

  Mark blinked against a sudden sting of tears. That's what Sulinda had been to him, all right. His best friend. She was fun and she was sexy, but more important, she was a very genuine person whom Mark had come to admire.

  And, yes, depend on. They'd shared everything; he'd never known that kind of companionship before. Dammit, Susu ... why didn't I stop you? I could have, I know it ...

  On impulse, to shut out the cry for her in his mind, Mark rolled off the bed.

  "Mirror," he commanded, and the wall opposite him flickered, then went reflective. He stared curiously at the face reflected there, wondering if it seemed different to others. Almost everyone he met lately who knew him had commented that he didn't look well ...

  His reflected countenance seemed much the same ... perhaps a bit thinner, the slight hollows beneath the high cheekbones more pronounced. He'd lost weight, though he'd tried not to miss out on too many of his self-defense workouts.

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  Somehow yelling and punching and kicking had helped him exorcise--if only for a moment--some of his demons.

  There were dark shadows beneath his eyes, but those weren't uncommon, especially around exam time. So what was it that made people say he looked different? Perhaps it was the expression in his eyes. Even to himself he appeared weary and beaten ... as though nothing much mattered

  anymore.

  Mark suddenly realized the little rainbow pin was stil clenched in his fist. He tossed it on the nightstand where it caught the light as it tumbled to a halt between two small holo cubes, one of Sulinda and one of his mother. Ironic, he thought bitterly. I'm studying to be an interrelator, a living bridge between worlds--and I can't even bridge the space between myself and the people I love ... loved ...