Текст книги "The Best and the Brightest"

Автор книги: Susan Wright

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

“Professor Tho asked me if I could speak to you,” Picard began, his sonorous voice comfortably filling the room. “You all know of the recent developments between the Federation and Cardassian Empire, resulting in the establishment of the Demilitarized Zone a few months ago. Unfortunately, this necessitates the shifting of some of our colonies, as well as some of those of the Cardassians. The decision to formalize our borders has given rise to political and philosophical debates that will undoubtedly continue for centuries. . . .”

Titus felt his eyes glaze over. Looking around, he realized everyone, including Professor Tho, was entranced by Picard’s distinctive rhythmical cadence. There wasn’t a sound in the room.

“The Enterprise‑D shall depart tomorrow for Dorvan V to carry out the evacuation of the last of our colonists. Some of the Federation colonists have protested the treaty and are resisting recolonization, forming a protest group known as the Maquis. In the Academy newspaper this week, there is an insightful editorial on the rights of the Maquis, written by one of your fellow cadets, Harry Kim. Cadet Kim brings up some of the more germane questions we are faced with in this case, specifically, whether the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few–”

Titus couldn’t stand it anymore. “Excuse me, sir!”

The other cadets slowly turned, resenting the interruption.

“Yes, Cadet,” Picard acknowledged. “Do you have a question?”

“No, a comment,” Titus said, ignoring the stares. “If I may be so blunt, I think you agree with the Maquis that the colonists shouldn’t be forced to move from their homes.”

Professor Tho was frowning, and whispers rose around him.

“My personal feelings are unimportant,” Picard replied quietly. “I am merely performing my duty.”

“But isn’t it our duty to protest when we feel our orders are wrong?” Titus knew he should just let it drop, but that comment about Harry Kim got under his skin. Kim was one of the last‑year cadets that professors were always holding up as an “example.” Kim was a nice enough guy, but sometimes they piled it on enough to make Titus choke.

“Our elected officials create policy, not Starfleet captains,” Picard gently chided him. “While I may have quite a different opinion as a citizen, it would be arrogant in the extreme to think that I know what is best in such a complicated and far‑reaching subject.”

Titus nodded, at a loss for what to say.

“Cadet,” Picard added, almost with a smile, “you will soon find that the essence of command is not to lead, but to follow orders.”

“Yes, sir,” Titus agreed.

He sat back and folded his arms, wondering why he felt so deflated. Maybe it was that hint of amusement in the captain’s smile that was so humiliating. But he was convinced he was right. Maybe none of the others could see it, but he knew that Picard didn’t agree with this policy. Hell, Titus knew he would fight it if someone told him that his family would have to leave the Antaranan colony.

The guy behind him kicked the seat and hissed, “Nice going!”

Titus clenched his teeth, staring at Picard as he calmly, methodically discussed the volatile political situation and what that meant for the security of the Alpha Quadrant.

Jayme Miranda saw Titus later that day, tilted back in a cafй chair, his head resting against the brick wall. His jacket was slung over the back and his eyes were closed as he soaked up the afternoon sunshine.

“Hey,” she called out, stopping at the low fence around the patio of the outdoor cafй. “I heard about your argument with Captain Picard.”

Sleepily, Titus opened one eye. “You again? Where do you get your information? It wasn’t an argument.”

“Oh? That’s what everyone’s saying.” She grinned. “Were you kidding me when you said you got Federation Assembly duty this summer?”

“Yup.”

Jayme couldn’t help but admire how smooth he was, acting like he didn’t have a care in the world, and pulling it off, too, when she knew he was dying to get off‑world. In a burst of sympathetic goodwill, she told him, “You know, you should volunteer for projects or studies or something. It’s sort of an unwritten rule. They like to see that stuff on your record.”

Titus raised his head. “I volunteer. Last month I organized the second‑level Parrises Squares competition.”

“Yeah, and how hard was that?” she shot back. “It’s not just a matter of keeping busy. They like to see you challenge yourself.”

Now she had his attention, but in typical Titus‑fashion, he wouldn’t admit she was right. “What are you doing right now?” he asked. “I’ve got tickets to the Ventaxian chime concert.”

One brow went up. “You’re asking me to the chime concert? Now I know you need to get off‑planet.”

His expression was wounded. “We’ve hung out before.”

“Not listening to Ventaxian chimes. What happened to Qita?”

Titus shrugged and looked away.

“Oh, I see. Sorry, but I can’t help you put another notch on your belt. I’m going to the Maquis debate, so you’ll have to ask someone else.”

“I thought they already did that.”

Jayme nodded. “This is another one. I better hurry, or I’ll be late meeting Moll Enor.”

“Enor?” He rocked slightly in his chair, laughing. “Don’t tell me you’re still infatuated with that Trill!”

Jayme flipped her hair over her shoulder. “You don’t know anything about loyalty, do you?”

As she walked away, he called after her, “I know plenty about loyalty. I also know when to give up.”

“Never say die!” she tossed over her shoulder.

*   *   *

When Titus got back to his Quad, after going to the chime concert alone, he softly whistled the falling tones to himself as he got ready for bed. His roommate was still out. She was probably at the quantum physics lab studying for finals. This year’s Quad project was protectively wrapped and sitting on the table next to the door, unlike last year’s fiasco, when they didn’t do a final test run until the night before the Board review. But that had been Starsa’s fault more than Jayme’s.

Jayme Miranda might have her own personal problems–just look at that infantile crush she carried for Enor, while the Trill obviously barely tolerated her attentions. But with at least half a dozen relatives the grade of commander or higher, Jayme certainly knew Starfleet like it was her own family.

Idly, Titus called up the volunteer lists. He quickly keyed past the psych courses. There was no way he was going to let anyone mess around with his head. One of the endurance courses sounded interesting, but he remembered what Jayme had said about challenging himself.

He volunteered to be considered for a few different projects. By the time he checked the computer before going to sleep, he had received notification that he had been deemed “suitable” for Communications Project #104. If he chose to accept this duty, he would have to report to the lab the weekend after finals.

His finger hovered over the cancel square. There were at least four great parties happening that weekend. One was in a friend’s habitat bubble in the Antarctic Circle. He was hoping to have a little fun before shipping off to the Federation Assembly where he would be at the beck and call of some ancient legislator for two months.

He pressed the key to volunteer. He didn’t care if he missed twelve parties and a trip back in time, he would do anything to get a good field duty assignment.

This volunteer stuff isn’t too bad,Titus thought to himself. He leaned back against the soft turf, his hands behind his head, waiting for his partner to get through the light‑beam obstacle. He had walked across the wide river without a stumble, but Eto Mahs had fallen five times already.

According to the instructions posted at the crossing, if they fell off, they had to go back and do it again. It was your typical obstacle course as far as Titus could tell. The trick was, they weren’t allowed to speak to each other.

Lab technicians had implanted a speech inhibitor in his vocal cords, as well as those of Eto Mahs. Titus was surprised at how many times it had already stopped him from speaking. If he concentrated, he could override the inhibitor, otherwise it kept them from making involuntary statements.

“Yeiiahhh!!”Eto Mahs screamed as he fell, for the sixth time, into the river. He bobbed to the surface, his dark hair dripping with water. “Eeiihh!”

Titus grinned to himself. They might be in a holodeck, but that water was cold. Mahs screamed that way every time he fell off the light beam.

The inhibitor allowed them to make inarticulate noises, and they could signal simple directions with their hands. He wondered what the communications specialists could possibly be getting from this. The whole thing seemed absurd, but then again, he was on a private mission of his own to prove he was worthy of a juicy field assignment. Each to his own, he figured.

Meanwhile, he enjoyed the wooded environment, watching the leaves shift overhead in the wind. His colony world didn’t have trees, only patches of large types of grass, sort of like terrestrial bamboo. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he thought a tree was a miraculous thing. So many odd shapes and designs, each one different yet perfect in itself.

He rolled over to watch Eto Mahs climb out of the river, shivering. Titus raised his hand to his mouth to yell, “Take your clothes off, you nitwit!” but the inhibitor beeped a warning.

Sheepishly, Titus smacked his forehead. The lab techs must be keeping record of every incident when they tried to speak. That could be the purpose of the course. On every obstacle, underneath the instructions, they were told they could quit the course at any time without consequences by simply saying, “End program.”

Mahs resolutely stepped onto the narrow light beam one more time, his teeth biting his lower lip. Titus shook his head at the poor guy. He probably hadn’t expected an obstacle course on a communications project. Mahs was a third‑year Cadet majoring in exobiology, according to the summary at the beginning of the course. His mother was supposedly Japanese and his father was from–what planet was it?–wherever. Titus didn’t recall ever seeing him around the Academy, but Mahs had nodded in greeting as if he recognized Titus. They had never spoken a word to each other.

Eto Mahs wobbled, flailing his arms, his wet hair whipping around. “Yeiiahhh!!”he screamed again as he fell.

Titus rolled onto his back again, chewing on a piece of grass. What did he care how long it took Mahs to get across? Come Monday, he would be transporting to the Assembly. He could think of worse ways to spend the next two days than relaxing on the hillside enjoying the gentle breeze.

Titus kicked his heels against the stone wall where he sat watching Eto Mahs. Mahs was trying to turn the handle to open the gate obstacle. They could have just as easily jumped over, but the instruction said each of them had to turn a handle to open the gate before they could go through. Titus had turned his handle with one twist of his wrist, while Mahs was practically hanging off his handle. It wouldn’t budge.

Titus twisted up one side of his mouth. Eto Mahs was hardly as tall as his shoulder, and was probably the skinniest guy he’d ever seen. But he couldn’t understand how anyone could be that weak. The latch did have a tricky notch you had to catch, but Titus had immediately felt it when he turned the handle. How could Mahs not figure it out? But then again, it had taken twelve tries before Mahs got across the river that morning.

As it turned out, the guy did have a great sense of direction. A few times he had been right about which way to go–once after Titus had tramped at least a mile in the other direction, with Mahs tugging at his arm the whole way, trying to make him turn back.

Mahs gasped out, collapsing against the wall, hanging onto the handle for support. Slowly, he slid down until he was huddled on the ground, breathing heavily.

Titus wished he could tell the guy how to open it. He got down and made motions for Mahs to push in as he turned the handle, but Mahs wearily nodded that he understood what to do. Titus raised his hands, silently admitting that there was nothing else he could contribute, and he returned to his post on the wall.

Impatiently, he glanced around. Were they going to be forced to camp here tonight? It wasn’t a bad spot, but there was lake on the other side of the gate that he was dying to get to. A swim before rolling out the bedroll would be perfect. Yet he couldn’t cheat and jump the fence. The instructions were very clear that the partners were supposed to remain together.

He stared down at Mahs, wondering if the exobiologist had quit or was getting up the energy for another try. Suddenly Mahs looked up, meeting his eyes, as if he could feel the contempt Titus felt for him.

Startled, Titus looked away. He wondered if Eto Mahs had known all day how pitiful he looked to Titus. He felt kind of bad about it, but also more than a little justified. Why didn’t Mahs just say “End Program” and get them both out of here? Titus would still have time to get to the Antarctic Circle before the party ended, and he’d have another whole day before he had to report to the Assembly.

Mahs was still looking up at him resentfully, and Titus let slip a little of his own resentment at being stuck with such a weakling.

Mahs flinched as if Titus had shouted the word. Without another glance, he got up and grabbed hold of the handle again.

Titus instantly felt bad about the pain in Mahs’ dark eyes. He didn’t want to hurt the guy. But watching him struggle with the handle, panting after only a few moments’ effort, made him want to roll his eyes and shake his head in exasperation. He heroically restrained himself, even managing to feel a little burst of sympathy toward for him. But that evaporated when Mahs cast another resentful look over his shoulder.

Titus sighed. It looked like it would be a long, dry evening ahead.

Titus made camp all by himself, gathering enough grass to pad both of their bedrolls, when Mahs suddenly turned the handle and the gate swung open.

The inhibitor stopped Titus from exclaiming, “Finally!” He grinned, ready for a long, cool swim.

But Mahs was tugging on his arm, pointing back at the gate. There was an instruction sheet posted on this side, but he must have blown right past it, eyes only for the lake.

“Proceed to the peak to make camp,” the instructions said.

Titus turned to look, having memorized the landscape as they slowly traversed the deep valley. They couldn’t mean thatpeak in the distance, on the other side of the lake. It was so far away that they would never reach it before sunset.

He realized he was shaking his head when Mahs insistently nodded, pointing to the instructions, then to the peak.

Titus stared at Mahs. Why didn’t he just give up?

Mahs narrowed his eyes slightly, jerking his chin at Titus– Why don’t you?

The challenge hung between them only a few seconds, then Titus slowly grinned at Mahs, making it very clear that hewould never give up.

*   *   *

They were trudging up the lower slope of the peak in full darkness when a computer voice announced, “Your time is up. Thank you for participating in Communications Project #104.”

The mountainside glimmered, flattening into an obvious projection before disappearing. The familiar orange‑gridded walls rose around them.

Titus lifted up one hand wordlessly as the door slid open and two lab techs with padds entered. The instructions said there was no way to “fail” the course, but it wasn’t his fault they didn’t complete it on time. The inhibitor stifled his initial outburst.

“Cadet Titus,” one tech read off the padd. “Follow me.”

Titus glanced back down the corridor as Mahs was led in the other direction. Maybe it would be better this way. He could explain in private to the lab tech. He didn’t intend to fail this volunteer assignment. That would ruin all of his plans.

But the lab tech didn’t give him a chance to explain. The inhibitor was left intact and he was shown into a cubicle with a bed, wash facilities, and a replicator. He gestured, puzzled, but the lab tech just winked and activated the door. It slid shut between them. There was no panel on his side for him to open it.

Titus was about to override his inhibitor to protest–imprisonment wasn’t what he signed up for! But before he could speak a holo‑emitter activated, creating one of the sign posts, incongruously, next to the door, complete with an instruction card.

“Eat and get some sleep,” the instructions said. “You will complete the course tomorrow.”

Titus let out a wordless grunt of exasperation. So this was still part of the project. Well, he could play along with that.

The silence was starting to get to him. It hadn’t been so bad the night before, when he was exhausted from their last sprint to get to the peak. He had barely taken time to eat before falling into bed. When he woke, he cleaned up and ate another huge meal, all the while gingerly testing his inhibitor, looking around the cubicle and wondering when they were going to get him out of here.

The same lab tech came to fetch him. He must have been really beat the night before, because he hadn’t realized how pretty she was, especially that flip of black hair and those freckles across her nose. Or maybe he’d been shut up too long.

He was led back to a small white room, just like the one where he and Eto Mahs had started the obstacle course. This time a different guy entered along with him–Cadet Vestabo. Titus didn’t need to read the instruction post to know Vestabo was a first‑year cadet who was considered to be a mathematics whiz. He was also a regular in the Saturday morning lasertag game that Titus had joined in a few times.

As the door to the holodeck opened, Vestabo was nodding a greeting to Titus, pointing to his throat and smiling at the inhibitor. Titus ran his hand through his hair, letting out a long low whistle as the same countryside appeared, with the peak in the distance.

Not again!he wanted to exclaim.

Maybe they were giving him a second chance. Maybe they realized it wasn’t his fault that they hadn’t made it to the peak. But why pair him with another scrawny guy? Vestabo wasn’t nearly as timid and frail as Eto Mahs, he was just a wiry kid, much like Titus himself when he first came to the Academy. But Titus had bulked up by venting much of his frustration the past year working out with counter weights. Gradually, he had put on an impressive amount of muscle. On a good day, he could even beat Bobbie Ray at Parrises Squares.

His doubts about Vestabo’s ability were quickly squashed when they reached the light beam crossing the river. Vestabo read the instructions and, without hesitation, jumped up on the beam and ran across. Titus grinned at him, giving him a thumbs‑up when he reached the other side. He felt better for the first time since he realized he was going to have to go through the entire course again.

He stepped up on the light beam and immediately knew something was different. It wasn’t solid like before. It wobbled. He frowned as he inched forward, trying to keep his balance. He only got a few feet before he was shifting so wildly that he fell off.

He tried to grab the light beam as he went over, but his hands passed through it as if it was an illusion–which it was.

The stunning cold choked the air from his lungs. He was spitting water and gasping, swimming instinctively against the current. With no time for thought, he was back on the bank shivering, his hands tucked between his legs.

Vestabo’s mouth was a perfect O,shocked that Titus hadn’t made it across. Titus knew the feeling, having stood on that side of the bank himself.

He tried it again, and this time he got nearly to the middle before losing his balance on the trembling light beam. He expected the extreme cold this time, which allowed him to feel what his body had known the first time–there were things in the water!

Hundreds of itching, prickling THINGS.

He was out of the water and shuddering on the bank before he could gasp out loud. His hands convulsed over his body, frantically trying to get rid of the things, but there was nothing there, just a nervous prickling that faded from his nerves.

Vestabo was hunched over, shaking, unable to hide his laughter behind his hands.

That was the last time Vestabo laughed. As Titus tried again and again to get across the flimsy light beam, Vestabo crouched on the other side, chewing the inside of his mouth anxiously. He even stood up to grab Titus’s arm when he finally got close to the other side.

Titus kept expecting contempt to rise in the younger boy’s eyes, especially after they reached the wall obstacle. The instructions told them to each hold a grip on a transport container to get it over the wall. Vestabo couldn’t tell that the vacuum on Titus’s grip handle kept breaking, just as he hadn’t been able to see that the light beam over the river wasn’t solid for Titus.

Time and again Vestabo grunted as he suddenly had the full weight of the container swinging from his grip. It kept thudding back to the ground. Titus remembered how he had been forced to carry it over single‑handedly when Eto Mahs hadn’t been able to hang on to it. Now he knew why. He cringed to think of how he had stared at Mahs, unable to understand why he couldn’t carry a nearly empty transport container.

Vestabo, on the other hand, seemed confused, but once they got over the wall, he shrugged it off and his good‑natured smile returned.

It was the same when they reached the transparent barrier. The instructions told them to go left to find the opening, and Titus remembered traipsing along hip‑deep in marsh grass forever while Eto Mahs tugged at his arm, trying to get him to go the other way. As it turned out, the instructions were wrong and the opening was about a klick in the other direction.

Titus knew he probably had the same pained expression as Eto Mahs as he tried to get Vestabo to stop and go right instead of left. It was excruciating, knowing that he knew the fight path but he wasn’t able to tell the kid. And Vestabo didn’t exactly trust him at this point.

Still, Vestabo finally lifted his hands in surrender and returned to the instructions with Titus. He read them again, and pointed in the recommended direction. Titus insistently pointed the other way, and when Vestabo wavered, Titus started jogging toward the spot where he knew the break in the barrier would be.

Vestabo had to run after him. They were supposed to stay together, according to the underlined order on each set of instructions, otherwise the course would automatically end. It turned into to a race, and Titus couldn’t bear to look back at Vestabo’s concerned expression, obviously worried about his sanity.

Yet when he found the opening and showed him how they could slip through, Vestabo grinned and pounded Titus on the shoulder in congratulations. The kid was so nice about it that he couldn’t even get irritated, much as it galled him to have a first‑year cadet condescend to him.

By the fourth obstacle–the anti‑grav jump, complete with trick pad that let Vestabo sail over while Titus bobbed up and down like a puppet on a string–Titus was ready to call it quits. He’d had enough of these jokes. He hadn’t signed up for this.

Besides, every set of instructions taunted him with the fact that he could simply say “End program” and the torture would be over. He sneered at the wording: “The course will be deemed satisfactorily completed upon the command to End program.” The first time around with Eto Mahs, he had hardly paid attention to that disclaimer, believing there had to be some sort of black mark that would result from quitting such an easy obstacle course.

Now, the only thing that kept him bobbing up and down, trying vainly to get over the obstacle, was the image of Eto Mahs with his mouth set in a tight line, his dark eyes burning down at Titus as he leaped up and down, trying to get over. And his grim expression of satisfaction when he finally did make it to the other side.

A low whistle made Titus look up. Vestabo winked and held up an apple he had plucked from the tree. He was sitting on the wall overlooking the gate, in exactly the same spot Titus had taken after he had completed the task of turning the handle. Now it was Titus sweating and grunting over his unmovable handle.

Vestabo gestured with the apple, then tossed it to him. Titus caught it without thinking, then realized it was just what he needed. He sat on the ground, leaning against the gate, and sank his teeth into the plump, green apple. Sweet, tart juiciness spread across his tongue. He hadn’t eaten an apple yesterday.

Titus nodded up at Vestabo in thanks. The kid shrugged it off with nothing but sympathy in his expression. Maybe he knew there was some sort of trick going on. Titus hoped so. He hated to think of Vestabo’s disillusionment when he had to go through the course a second time. Titus had figured out that all the volunteers were made to go through twice. Little things he hadn’t noticed now stood out. The way Eto Mahs knew exactly where to go to get to each obstacle, and his anguished expression when they had first entered the course. Titus knew exactly how he felt, except he didn’t have someone subtly tormenting him with derision every step of the way.

With that thought, he got back up to tackle the gate. He didn’t care if it killed him, he couldn’t give up when Eto Mahs didn’t.

It was full dark and they were trudging up the steep slope, when the computer voice announced, “Your time is up. Thank you for participating in Communications Course #105.”

The mountainside glimmered, flattening into the holoprojection before disappearing. Titus blinked wearily up at the orange‑gridded walls. All he could think was–it’s over!

As the door slid open and two lab techs with padds entered, Titus quickly stuck out his hand for Vestabo to shake. He even clasped his other hand over the kid’s, looking at him intently, wishing he could warn him. He hoped Vestabo wouldn’t get stuck with someone like him on the tough round.

This time, Titus was shown directly into a room where a white‑coated scientist was waiting. She smiled perfunctorily, getting up with a device in hand and coming around the desk. She pressed the device to his throat. She was a little taller than he was, very slender with short reddish‑blond hair. She was also nearly two decades older than him, but he felt an immediate sense of attraction.

“I’m Professor Joen B’ton,” she told him. “There, you can speak now, Cadet Hammon Titus.”

“That was a psych project, wasn’t it?” he asked, rubbing his throat.

“No, a communications project,” she told him, returning to her seat. “But psychology is an integral part of communications, since it concerns a common system of symbols.”

“I failed, didn’t I?” Titus asked.

Her blue eyes widened slightly. “There is no failure in this project, we simply gather data. The fact that you completed the course two days in a row is excellent. I wanted to thank you–”

“Thankme?” he interrupted, wondering if maybe she had missed Eto Mahs on his way out.

“Yes, you’ve provided us with some valuable data, Cadet Titus.” Professor B’ton held out her hand. “Thank you for volunteering your time.”

What could he do? Titus shut his mouth, shook her hand, and got out of there.

But the sour taste in his mouth stayed with him as he packed and left the Academy. Even during the transport to Paris, where he checked into his assigned quarters at the Federation Assembly dormitories, there was a nagging sense of something left incomplete. He unsuccessfully tried to distract himself with the new sights and sounds of European Earth.

Idly checking over his rooms, he actually wished he had a roommate, someone to help fill up the silence. He decided he didn’t like absolute quiet anymore, not after forty‑eight hours of it. He said, “Computer!” intending to request music.

Instead, he asked, “Do you have an Academy field assignment for Cadet Eto Mahs?”

“Ensign Eto Mahs has graduated and is currently on leave in Rumoi, Hokkaido.”

“What will his assignment be when he returns?”

“That information is not available,” the computer said sweetly.

“Thanks a lot,” Titus muttered.

“Incoming message,” the computer responded.

Titus practically leapt for the desk. “On screen!”

The image of Professor Joen B’ton appeared on the screen, her cheeks rounded in a smile. “Cadet Titus, it’s good to see you again.”

“Uh, you, too, Professor.” Titus felt himself go cold inside, despite her pleasant expression. The waiting was over. He had somehow known there was an ax hanging over his head all this time, ready to fall.

“We’ve had three complete runs, projects 104, 105, and 106,” she told him. “That’s your two, and Cadet Vestabo completed his final round. Since you are the linking factor for this remarkable series, I wanted to inform you that I have placed a letter of recommendation in your record.”

“You did?” he asked, shaking his head. “What about Eto Mahs?”

“Cadet Mahs and Cadet Vestabo will also be acknowledged. But Eto Mahs did not complete his first round because his partner ended the program.”

“Oh.”

“It’s rare we have two completed courses in a row. There’s only been a couple of times that we’ve had three consecutive rounds, which gives us a consistent baseline for the data.” Professor B’ton beamed at him, as if she had personally cheered for him the entire way.

“Professor B’ton,” Titus told her, unable to smile in return. “I don’t deserve your praise. Give letters of recommendation to cadets Eto Mahs and Vestabo, not to me.”

Her smile became more sympathetic. “Your participation was an integral part of this success, Cadet. Anything else is a matter for your own conscience.”

“I don’t deserve it,” he repeated, glancing down. He hated to disappoint the professor, but he couldn’t lie anymore about what he had done. “Didn’t Eto Mahs tell you how awful I was to him?”

“We have the data,” Professor B’ton reminded him. “This course was designed to provoke strong feelings, so we could study the common ways humanoids communicate through nonverbal movements and gestures. You’d be surprised how clearly people speak without saying a word.”