Fledgling (14 page)

She sat down at her desk, and pushed the 'book aside, glancing at the privacy panel as she did. Yes, the door status was set to "open." Office hours would be done by sevenbells and she could go home. Perhaps she'd stop at the co-op on her way and pick up a bottle of wine. She wrinkled her nose, remembering the last time she'd had wine out of the co-op.

Or perhaps not.

There being no students immediately in need of her attention and advice, Kamele pulled out her mumu and tapped the screen on.

There was a message from Ella in queue, assuring her that the Oversight Committee was already moving on their request for the forensic lit search. They, at least, said Ella, took the possibility of an accreditation loss very seriously indeed. Kamele nodded, pleased.

After Ella's note, there were a dozen or so routine messages from colleagues and Admin. Below them were two marked "urgent"—one from the L&R Department and the other from Marjene Kant.

Panic pinched Kamele's chest. She took a deliberately deep breath to counter it, and opened the message from L&R.

Professor Viverain wrote a clean, terse, hand, and Kamele was very shortly in possession of the facts of Four Team Three's scavage game. Viverain took the trouble to state not once, but twice, that Roni Mason had put herself into a position of peril, in defiance of the rules of both the game and of good sportsmanship, and, upon being injured, had immediately begun to kick Theo, who had already been knocked to the floor by the collision.

In summary, Viverain praised both Theo's teamwork and her growing skill in scavage and hoped that Professor Waitley would not hesitate to contact her with any questions she might have about the incident.

Kamele closed her eyes. Roni Mason was spoiled and unprincipled, following, Kamele thought uncharitably, properly in her mother's footsteps. Well. She opened her eyes. There was more, she was certain.

And indeed there was. The appended Safety Office report suggested that the incident might have been avoided, or at least stopped short of bloodshed, had Theo not been involved. The reporting Safety fielded the theory that Roni Mason had been trying to kick the dropped ball, not realizing, in her distraction and pain that (1) the game was over, and (2) that she was kicking
Theo
.

This was so transparently mendacious that it seemed unlikely that anyone would believe it. On the other hand, Theo had a long string of notes in her file documenting instances of her horrifying clumsiness, all the way back to first form. Whatever her discipline problems—and Kamele had heard they were not inconsiderable—Roni Mason was not tagged as "physically limited."

Lips pressed tight, Kamele called up the A-Team report: Theo had suffered bruised ribs; the A-Teamer had administered analgesic and muscle relaxant, suggesting that the same be given before bedtime to prevent stiffness and to ensure a restful night.

Kamele took a deep breath and exhaled, forcefully. Unfortunately, the exercise did very little to prepare her for Marjene's message.

I feel compelled to inform you,
it began without preamble,
that Theo ended our scheduled meeting this evening precipitously, standing up while we were in the middle of a discussion and announcing that she was expecting a delivery. I understand that her problem on the scavage court had distressed her, and that the topics we had before us were unsettling, but this sort of rudeness toward one who—

Kamele closed Marjene's message and filed it. After consideration, she also filed Viverain's report, with attachments.

Half-a-dozen taps notified her students and the Department Chair that she had canceled what remained of her office hours. That done, she slipped the mumu away, changed the room status from "open" to "closed," gathered up her 'book and left the office, walking rapidly.

* * *

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.

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.