“What do you mean you haven’t met her yet?” Caroline stares at me over the rim of a Kiranese blue mug that clashes markedly with her hair. Blue is not for everyone, but this University uses it liberally as a symbol of planetary pride. Blue floors, signage, landscaping, cutlery. Half the attendees and three-fourths of the professors here have the eyes from which the color gets its name and inspiration. Over the past thirty years I have been teaching I have lost count of the number of times one of my sillier female students has looked at me, gasped, and exclaimed “Wow, your eyes match the curtains perfectly!” Sometimes I feel like more decoration, which is why I try to avoid the cafeteria as much as possible. However, when a young coworker asks me to lunch, I do my best to make an exception, especially if it is one I have known as long as Caroline. I give her a grimace and take a swallow of tea before responding.
“She was asleep when I got there. Hadn’t even been on the planet for two hours. I spoke with her friend, Nanda—he’s a Type Two, and a powerful one at that—the trip out was a nightmare. They dosed her, can you believe it?”
She chokes in mid-sip. “What!”
“I know. As soon as I find who was responsible, they will be out a job. You can’t just give a Type Three narcotics!”
She nods at me, eyes wide with indignation on our behalf. “Can I go with you when you meet her today? Reid had a run-in with her, and I have to admit I’m curious.”
“Caroline, you know I can’t do that. It’ll be hard enough making her pay attention to me as is. I can’t have another mind in there for her to latch on to.”
With a sigh she swirls her coffee, causing a surge of steam to rise and coat her glasses. She takes them off in irritation before continuing. “I know. I’m just frustrated with my own students and want to live vicariously through my coworkers.”
I chuckle. Caroline is never happy with her students, but has yet to realize that is typical for all of us. There's no one right way to train an empath, and until we find out what works for each student individually, the going is slow. And that's a best-case scenario. Sometimes the student doesn't want to learn no matter what we do. For at least one of hers, this is the case. “Reid still a handful?”
Her skirt creeps up as she crosses her legs. “You have no idea, Desmond. Absolutely none.”
“He’ll come around, Caroline. They always do.”
“Unless I get sacked like his last Teacher.”
“Jonathan was incompetent. Reid just made sure to point that out to the Board. From what I hear, there’s been no such trouble with you.”
Caroline purses her lips and stares through the glass of the tabletop. “Yes, that’s what bothers me.” She drains her coffee and checks her wristband in one practiced motion. “Oh, wonderful. Desmond, I need to run. I’ve got to meet with Diane for training. She’s skipped our last two sessions, and I can’t yell at her about it if I am late to this one, you know?”
I smile at her as she stands and smooths her skirt. “It’s fine. I should head off to meet Asha.”
She gives me one of her candid stares. “You know, I’m surprised you didn’t wake her up. You would have for any other student.”
“The thought did cross my mind, but Nanda is rather…protective, and I don’t want to make a bad impression.” This response must sound as unconvincing to her as it does to me, because she gives a bemused sniff. But she also didn’t push the issue. I take another sip of my tea—almost lukewarm, now, and sickly sweet—as I watch her walk away from the table, skirt stretching and relaxing with the rhythm of her hips. Once she is out of sight, I give up on the tea completely and make my own way out of the common area.
It’s just now turning into fall. The campus has been windier than usual, and yellowed leaves are starting to invade all the open spaces so strategically designed to receive them. This morning when I left my quarters I encountered a pile of them in the middle of the carpeted hallway, just to the left of my door. They collect there every fall, accruing and dessicating like sand grains in an hourglass. The wind blows them in through the nearby archway that leads to one of the floor's many open patios. Most other buildings on campus have a similar design. Usually I like the organic nature of the architecture, and how the line between the outdoors and the indoors is so tenuous. On a planet as mild as this one, the elements are rarely something we need to protect against, though I can’t imagine this sort of architecture being put into use on Midbar or Newarth. There, there’d be too much sand—or snow. Nevertheless, the leaves and the occasional thunderstorms tend to make a mess of the classrooms.
The sunlight hits me full in the face as I walk out from under the cafeteria awning, momentarily blinding me. It’s the kind of light that promises heat, but never delivers. The plants love it. All the non-native vegetation brought to Kiran drink it up and swell, becoming taller and thicker than their relatives back home. I once had one of my Midbaran students tell me Kiran seemed more alive than the other planets. “Everything happens here,” she’d said awkwardly, trying to get me to understand what she really meant. “It just happens…more.”
Not the most articulate way of putting it, but the stronger empaths are rarely good speakers. They can’t understand why us lesser folk rely so heavily on words. She was right, though. Plants grow better, and people too. The empaths that migrated here when the planet was opened settled, bred, and within three generations the first Type Threes were born. We used to find one every fifteen or twenty years. Asha will be the campus’ second in five. She and Seamus, one from Old Earth, one Oceanan. Both with Kiranese ancestry, by the looks of it. Word has already spread of Asha’s vivid blue eyes. The Fleet has been in an uproar over it since she was discovered by a recruiter in her little village. We know what it means, even if the student body doesn’t just yet. A line was crossed. Rules were broken. And Asha was the result. My stomach gives a sudden lurch.
I sidestep a large bug on the path and rub at my temples in frustration. Why am I so nervous? Well, no. I know why. But I have to get this under control before I meet her, or it is going to be an absolute disaster. I know this from personal experience—Asha will be my fifth Type Three, which means I will have officially taught more students of her calibur than any other Teacher at the University. They tend to pick up on it when I am not confident, and it manifests badly in their behavior. If Asha is as uncertain of herself as I am sure she must be after a life of being labelled a half-breed, my nervousness will reduce her to uselessness. I have to be strong enough to get her away from Nanda, now, at this meeting, or the next few weeks will be intolerable for all three of us.
I close my eyes and settle into my role, inhaling deeply, taking in the surrounding trees. This is the persona I was trained to assume to be able to stay open, and yet keep my students out. It’s supposed to protect us, and them, from the things they don’t need to know about our lives. But really, it has always felt to me about as protective as an eggshell for a skull. If one of my students had ever gotten a hint that there was something more underneath what I was showing them, they’d be through it in an instant. I’d been warned by the Fleet not to let this happen with Asha, since I know who her father is and she does not—nor should she. When I’d asked them why, given the risk, they didn’t have someone else teach her, they told me she was too valuable to go to waste.
Despite all this, I somehow manage to be calm and collected as I step into the entryway to her dorm. As I’m wiping my feet on the mat in the small courtyard where they store their shoes, one of my other students pokes her head out from the common area to greet me with a genuine smile.
“Desmond! Are you here to meet Asha?” She already knows the answer, because her brown eyes are unfocused, a telltale sign that she’s listening in on my thoughts and not paying attention to my actions. But, we’re not in lessons, and I am proud of her attempt at politeness. Elene is one of my favorite pupils.
“Good morning, Elene. Is she up yet?”
She smiles happily. “I made her tea!” That’s a yes. We had a talk once about why she never quite answers the questions people asked her, and her response was “If you learn the answer anyway, why does it matter?” I think she gets tired of me saying that’s not how things are done.
“Could you tell her I'm here?”
“She already did,” comes a deep voice from the stairs. The boy I spoke to yesterday, Nanda, is holding on to a girl a head shorter and just as slender as he is. They are trying to navigate the steps, but she keeps getting distracted by them. He's muttering to her quietly as he guides her by the elbow, and she is responding, but she never quite looks at him or where she is going. I pick up on what he's saying as they get closer.
“Asha,” he pleads in their native tongue, which I have always found beautiful. “Asha, watch the stairs”—this word in Kiranese—“you'll trip.”
“Nanda, I want to see the trees.” She spins determinedly in the direction of the Arboretum—the wall to their left—and they both sway dangerously mid-way down the flight.
“Asha-na, we will, we will, but can you focus and meet the Teacher right now?”
She blinks and turns her head in my direction, but her eyes are locked somewhere off to my left, and I get the feeling what she is looking at is not in the building at all.
“Hello,” she ventures.
“No, in Kiranese. You'll confuse him.” Nanda reaches to reposition her shirt, which has slid to one side and exposed her shoulder completely. I make a mental note to get clothing in her size, somehow. Whatever idiot gave her that must have never seen a Native female.
“No.” She shakes her head slowly from side to side. Her upper body sways slightly as she does so. “He understands.”
Only now do they reach the ground floor. Nanda's hands remain on her shoulders and he lifts his head to stare at me from underneath his bangs, obviously unhappy at my ability to eavesdrop.
“He spent a lot of time on the planet as a recruiter, like the man who found us in your village.” She smiles at my shoes. She likes me. I wonder how much of this is Elene's doing.
“She did tell me a lot about you,” Asha continues. I'm slightly taken aback by this. Now I know what the report meant when they called her “uncanny.” I thought the recruiter was just being poetic, but there really is no better way to describe it. She's only been near me for a few minutes, but she is completely enveloped in my mind. Even for a Type Three, this is swift.
“Asha, let him speak too,” Nanda urges. “You'll make him uncomfortable.”
She wilts in his arms. “Oh, no. What if he won't like me?” Elene moves for her from the other side of the room, probably to help Nanda keep her standing. I shake my head at her, and she stops in the middle of the room, clearly distressed. Asha is already feeling the effects, and I am worried she will soon burst into tears. She is not currently stable enough to handle someone as high-strung as Elene.
“Elene, could you let me talk to Asha and Nanda with you out of the room?” I know better than to say alone. It would only confuse all three of them. A girl like Asha is never really alone, and Elene will likely remain connected to her for the entirety of the conversation. But I know from experience that if I can get fewer people physically near her, I can converse with her more easily.
Nanda nods at her, and Elene walks out the front door. Asha sighs. “She is going to see the trees.” For some reason, she has switched to the Kiranese.
“Good,” Nanda agrees. “Try to focus.”
“Does speaking in Kiranese help you focus, Asha?” I ask.
She nods in her disjointed way and rubs at her right shoulder absently. I can see the tips of several thin scars on her neck, and I shudder involuntarily. I'd seen plenty of those sorts of wounds when I was stationed on her planet. Something had gone for the jugular and missed.
“Cat,” she says. For the first time, her eyes seek my face. They are blue, just like mine, but the color of her skin makes them stand out more sharply. One day she will be able to pin people to the floor with those eyes, which is an excellent trait in a Naval officer. The Kiranese Fleet knew what they were doing when they decided to sponsor her education.
“Nanda, will you get it?” She tilts her head backward against his chest and looks up at him. He nods and reluctantly lets her go, turning back to the stairs.
“You have what did that to you?” I ask, bemused.
“No.” Asha sits down abruptly in the middle of the floor, and I make a point to join her as if it is the most natural thing in the world. She smiles at me again once I am closer to her eye level.
“You will be teaching us?” she asks, running her hands along the tiled floor and staring at the ceiling. I am not surprised by this behavior; many strong empaths will touch their surroundings constantly as a means to stay grounded. She is doing everything she can to remain focused, and I am pleased to see that it seems to be working. This will be a good foundation for her training.
“Well, I will be teaching you. Nanda will be taught by Eric.”
Her eyes had been drifting shut, but at this they fly open. She springs to her feet with an agility that stirs even more memories, leaving me alone and silly on the floor.
“What! No, no!”
Nanda reappears in the entryway, holding what looks like a leopard pelt, though I can't be certain. It's one of the species we didn't take with us when Old Earth was abandoned, anyway. It slides from his fingers heavily as he hurries back to Asha. She collapses into him, and he gives me one of his piercing stares as he smooths her hair in comfort. I wait, knowing there is a great deal of internal dialogue going on. Finally, he speaks.
“Why can't you teach us both? I came here on the condition I be allowed to take care of her!” His voice gets lower when he is angry. His tone stirs more memories of my time as a recruiter, these unpleasant, but I shake them off before Asha catches hold.
“And you can. But Nanda, she has to learn to be independent,” I say quietly. He frowns and tightens his arms around her, and is about to retort when Asha puts her fingers over his mouth.
“You can…teach me to take care of myself again?” She asks his shoulder. Nanda grips her more tightly, but she turns and looks at me again. I nod at her. He stares at me over her hair, clearly panicked.
“Desmond, she needs me.”
“No, Nanda. She doesn’t.” There’s no way to make it sound kind.
This seems to strike a nerve. He looks from me to her several times, then sighs and drops his arms. “He’s right.”
“Nanda, no!” She grabs at him, but he pushes her away. She begins to cry outright.
“Asha, that’s not you, that’s me. You told me yesterday this is what you wanted, remember?”
There is a long pause. I have wished for years that I were an empath so I could know for sure what goes on in these moments. As it is, I can only guess. I think Nanda is trying to calm himself down so she can regain control and think rationally about herself—as herself. After a moment, he moves over to the discarded cat pelt, brushes it off gingerly, and drapes it about her shoulders. She sinks to the floor beneath it as though it is dragging her down with its weight. Nanda seems to know something I do not, because he leaves her be, instead taking me by the elbow and leading me back into the courtyard in the same way he would have lead her. In that instant, I decide I like him.
“I have a few questions about her training, if I am allowed to ask,” he tells me in his native tongue. “Are you putting her in classes right away?”
“Certainly not!” He sighs in relief as I continue. “I'll be tutoring her privately. She won't be entering classes until the next quarter. Possibly even the next semester. The same goes for you. Eric wants to make sure you have a solid background in Kiranese language and culture before we throw you in with the rest of the students.”
“That is...good news.” He looks up at me, and his eyes suddenly look very tired. Some part of me doubts very much that he actually wants to be here.
“Honestly Nanda, you've done excellent work caring for Asha so far. She is better at staying focused than I was expecting. Don't think we're trying to cut you out, because we're not.”
He looks at his feet. “Thank you, Desmond.”
“So if you have any more questions or insight, please let me know. You know her better than I do, and I will need that.”
His eyes haze over suddenly, and he looks back to the door. Asha has appeared in the archway, still draped with the pelt, which slides against the floor on either side of her feet, burying her beneath its spots. Whatever the original owner had been, it had been enormous. She smiles at us both weakly.
“I am sorry, Desmond,” she stammers in Kiranese. “You and Nanda are right. When...when do we start training?” She moves into the courtyard to stand beside us.
“Tomorrow. Today, I think you and Nanda should tour the grounds. Maybe go see the trees?”
Her face lights up, and she gives me a spectacular smile, eyes, mouth, and all. I see a flicker of the person she really is before she gives a girlish giggle that is clearly Elene. Plans must have been made to meet.
“And Asha?”
She looks up at me. She really is shorter than I expected. I tug at the catskin. “When we know each other better, tell me about this, okay?”
Asha nods at me and walks to stand beside Nanda. He pulls at her knee-length braid playfully, clearly relieved to have her so collected. I should let them go while it lasts. I check my wristband and discover my daily meeting with Seamus will be occuring soon. We say our goodbyes and head off toward our destinations. When they are out of sight, I collapse on a bench and will my muscles to untense. First meetings are never easy, but I get the feeling many of our lessons will leave me more drained than this. We'd only been around one an other for a few minutes. Tomorrow, we'd have an hour.
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