Fledgling (15 page)

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 Professor 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?"

He tipped his head, eyes slightly narrowed, then nodded.

"A rigorous course, but I believe I may withstand it," he said, motioning her to walk with him. "If we stop at the fresh air market on our way, we might also have a salad, if you'd like it."

Theo let go the breath she'd been holding. "I'd like that," she said. "Very much."

"Then that is what we will do." They turned right into the service hall that led to the tiny faculty parking bay.

"Does your friend aspire to anthropology?"

Theo blinked. "Kartor? No . . ." She sighed and shifted her bag, wincing. "He's auditing Traveler's Etiquette. He wants to get a job on the station."

The click of the stick against the surface of the hall echoed oddly, almost as if he'd used it to punctuate something he'd thought but forbore to say aloud. His words, when they did come, were fluid and thoughtful.

"Does he indeed? But surely his mother will want him with her in Systems."

"I think his mother is . . . more concerned with his sisters," Theo said slowly. "It sounds like, from things he's said, that she doesn't much care what he does, as long as he doesn't . . . get into trouble."

"Well, you mustn't blame her for that. I believe that many parents wish that their off-spring would refrain from getting into trouble."

Theo bit her lip, and the two of them strolled down toward Father's pride-and-joy—the car he delighted in describing to new acquaintances as a "burnished green neo-classic rally coupe."

Some of his new acquaintances returned from his show-off ride smiling, others . . . did not. But he was serious about his joy, and periodically engaged in events put on by Delgado's only road rally club.

"How have you occupied your time during the last few days, Theo?" he asked, opening the little car's boot.

Theo slid her pack off and put it into the boot next to his bag, then straightened and met his eyes.

"I haven't exactly been trouble-free," she confessed.

"Splendid!" He gave her one of his brilliant grins, slammed the boot, and waved her to the passenger's side. "You must tell me all about it."

Theo slid into the low seat, snapped the safety belt into place, then sat with her hands in her lap, chewing her lip.
This isn't,
she thought dismally,
going to be easy
. She'd
tried
to prepare; reasoning it out, reminding herself that she had been willfully ignoring social cues, like Coyster pretending that he couldn't see a bowl full of substandard cat kibble.

You've got to do this,
she told herself;
you can't keep on not calling him anything, and besides, it's probably . . . upsetting to him to be called Father when he's not anymore, really, and he's just been too kind to say so.

That this particular variety of kindness was hardly a hallmark of her companion's character did not occur to her until she had licked her lips and made herself say, "Professor Kiladi?"

He turned his head, one eyebrow well up.

"Dear me," he murmured. "I apprehend that I have fallen into your black book, Theo. You must tell me how."

Theo considered him warily. "Black book?" she repeated.

"Ah." He inclined his head. "The reference is to a notebook in which the names of all those who have done one a mischief are recorded. Allow it to be one of those quaint off-world customs of which Delgado does not partake."

"Delgado doesn't seem to partake of many off-world customs," Theo commented, thinking of Gorna Dail.

"Yes, but it has a plenitude of its own, similarly quaint, not to say infuriating." He settled back into his seat without pressing the starter switch.

"That was a very credible attempt to change the subject. My congratulations. Now, if you please:
Professor Kiladi?
"

She took a breath and met his eyes. "I—Marjene said that, since you're not Housefather now, I—that it's antisocial to . . . to call you 'Father.' "

"Ah! Marjene." He sighed the name, elongating it into something comically musical. "All is explained. And yourself?"

She blinked. "Pardon me?"

"Do you find Marjene's argument resonates with you?"

"Well . . . I—no!" she said suddenly. "I mean, she's
right
—I've been ignoring a social cue. And that's not . . . honest. But, if I'm being honest," she continued in a rush, "I'd rather
not
call you Professor Kiladi, unless—unless you'd rather I did."

"I am compelled to meet honesty with honesty: I'd rather you didn't." He touched the starter. The car shifted slightly as the engine engaged, like it was a live thing that gone from sleep to alert. Father went through a similar change—as if being in the driver's seat brought him to a higher level of awareness. Eyes front, he scanned the parking bay, and when he spoke, his voice was grave.

"Theo. Far from being offended, I would be honored if you choose to continue addressing me as 'Father.' If, after due reflection, you find that you cannot in propriety allow it, then I suggest 'Jen Sar' as comfortable for us both." He flicked a quick, dark glance at her. "Is that plain?"

Chest tight, she nodded.

"Good. Unfortunately, and as much as it costs me to say so, Marjene's appeal to local custom is legitimate. Our relative positions being what they are, I see no choice but that Professor Kiladi must be fielded when we meet in public. I would consider it a kindness if you do not invoke him often."

That made sense, thought Theo, and formed a workable compromise. She and Father could be comfortable—and so could Marjene and Lesset.

"All right," she said, and, with a vast feeling of relief, smiled. "Father."

"Hah." He put the car into motion with a touch. "Is that the awful whole, or is there more to your not-exactly-trouble-free existence?"

Theo sighed, her momentary glow of comfort fading. "There's more," she said dolefully. "A lot more. And worse."