Voices of Chaos (5 page)

had given her delicious chills.
Swashbuckling. Swordplay. Things that are
not what they seem ?
Magdalena eyed Rob consideringly.
Don't go
romancing, you,
she ordered herself.
He put them up because he knows I
like those particular movies.

She settled her shoulders more comfortably as Rob dropped into his chair, leaned back to place crossed feet on the desk, and smiled at her. Bast rose from behind a stack of files, papers, and books--Magdalena privately suspected Rob assembled the chaotic mess deliberately, in order to relax students who were themselves often disorganized. The black cat stalked across the desk to walk down his shins and sprawl across his thighs.

Absently, he stroked her plushy fur.

Magdalena's eyes went beyond the school's director to the posters, and she smiled at Leslie Nielsen, whose dark eyes seemed to meet hers. As did Ronald Colman's from the black-and-white
Prisoner of Zenda
poster. But the tiny holo-print defeated her. She sat up, leaned forward and peered at it.

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Rob smiled lazily as he petted the cat. "Would you mind doing the honors?

The tea and biscuits are already programmed. And go take a look at that."

He nodded toward the small holo-print. "If you like it, I had a copy made and framed for you, in honor of last night."

Magdalena flowed to her feet and fussed with cups and plates for a moment, then set tea and warm rounds of black-seeded bread where he could easily reach his share before going over to study the little holo. She caught her breath sharply. "Ohhhh," she whispered. "It's a Degas!"

"Madame has a book of them--" he began.

She nodded, her eyes fixed on the small replica of a water-color print: a dark-haired young ballerina in a long, sheer skirt and pointe slippers. Her eyes seemed to be gazing at the floor, but Magdalena knew her attention was turned inward as she visualized the steps she must execute. "I know she does," the student replied softly. "I've borrowed it, several times. This particular dancer, though--she's always been my favorite." She gathered up her own sweetened tea and plate of biscuits, settled herself comfortably once more, and took a deep swallow of the warm, fragrant beverage before she dared trust her voice. "How did you know that?"

He shrugged, smiled, drank tea. "Madame lent me the book some time ago, and I knew you'd borrowed it. I didn't know you were fond of that particular print; but she reminds me of you, the way you concentrate on any task, including dance." He bit into a biscuit. "I know you'll be getting high marks in ballet for last night, and that ovation at the end must have felt terrific--but I thought a little solid something would be nice, too. I enjoyed the concert, especially the duets. You and David move so well together--what?" he asked as Magdalena sighed, very faintly. She shrugged, drank more tea.

"Anything you'd like to talk about, maybe?"

Magdalena frowned; she couldn't help it.

"Keeping in mind," Rob calmly added, "that I've already heard about the argument last night, up in the Spiral Arm."

"You've been listening to gossip," Magdalena said mock-accusingly but then she groaned, set aside her cup and plate, and buried her face in her hands.

"Oh, God, I didn't even

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think about people hearing
that]
I thought we were being quiet... !"

"David
was," Rob replied with a faint chuckle. Her fingers parted so one dark eye glared at him briefly, then again vanished behind the fingers. "But your whisper carries very well; remember that one-act play last year?" He waited a moment; Magdalena didn't move. "Honestly, I only heard that you had been arguing, nothing more. Want to talk about it, or should I butt out?"

She managed a laugh, small but genuine. Leaning back, Magdalena cast her eyes ceilingward and said, "All right, I was rude, sir, and I apologize."

"It would have been rude if I
had
been listening to gossip," Rob said. He shoved the empty plate aside. Bast, to all appearances, had gone to sleep sprawled across his knees; as his hand gently stroked her shoulders, she emitted a faint, querulous mew, then settled and slept once more.

Magdalena looked from the black, furry blot to the still-youthful-looking psychologist's concerned face. "I know you don't do that, and I was rude to imply you did. It's just--all right. I wasn't going to bother you with something I can work through myself, but since I'm here ..." She set her cup aside and sat up straighter.

"I had a nightmare this morning. It woke me just before the alarm."

Rob waited, and when she shook her head and swallowed tightly, he said,

"One of those, wasn't it?" She nodded. "Back in that compound, no way out?" Another nod. "Sort through it after you woke up?"

"Just like you showed me; my heart rate dropped almost at once. But--with Ladessa down this morning, I didn't get the chance to work out why ..." Her voice trailed off once again; she shoved aside the tea and got to her feet.

Rob watched her pace, his expression sympathetic. "Thing is, I think it's--

well, I
know
it was because of David. Because of last night, up in the Spiral Arm."

"But I thought you and David were a genuine item," he protested mildly. "All the time you two spend together

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rehearsing and outside rehearsals as well. And then the way you looked dancing together last night..."

Magdalena stopped pacing and faced him. "Well--that's part of the problem.

I--don't get me wrong, I've always
liked
David. He's a nice guy, smart, a good dancer. Particularly good since he didn't dance at all before he came here.

He's dedicated, he likes the Old Russian Romantic era music like I do. He's easy to talk to. He speaks Spanish like a native and he was very useful in helping me teach Ladessa how to dance like an Arekkhi."

"So? Sounds like a good combination to me," Rob replied neutrally.

"It is. It's just..." Magdalena paused in midstride to search for the right word, finally shook her head and sighed. "It's just not enough! Well--for a good friend, of course it is. But I never..." She paused once more, then shook her head again and came over to drop into the chair and meet his eyes directly.

"I didn't realize until last night that David wanted more than friends. Special friends, I mean."

"Well," Rob pointed out, "he gave you his StarBridge jacket, it should've told you something--understand, I'm not laying blame on you. Misunderstandings happen, after all, or why would StarBridge Academy even be here?" That rewarded him with a faint smile. "And I know how busy you've been the past few months."

"Thanks, Rob," she replied. "Truthfully, though, I know I should have realized when he said that about special friends-- when he gave me the jacket--that he meant a pair. Romance. I--can think back, remember the look on his face, and I just-- at the time, I didn't see it was love or a crush or whatever, because I didn't want to."

"All right, that's honest--and normal," Rob said. He settled his elbows on the chair arms, made a steeple of his fingers, and eyed her over them. "But last night--the way you looked at him during that balcony scene--''

She shook her head, hard. "That was
acting."

Rob grinned, urchinlike.
"The Rocketeer!
That wasn't a lie--it was acting!" he said, his voice soft and faintly English. His furred companion moaned quietly, shifted onto her side,

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and rolled into a tight ball. "Seriously," Rob added, sobering, "I think I understand, but explain for me, okay?"

"All right." Magdalena settled her shoulders, and her eyes wandered toward the Scaramouche holo-poster. "Dance is theater, too. Ballet isn't just dance, it also tells a story, like a play, or those gruesomely dull Arekkhi vid shows--

what did you call them?--soap operas? Well, dance is acting, plus music, plus movement--even just the dancing up in the Spiral Arm." A sudden, sharp visual passed through her mind: herself and Prince Khyriz up in the Spiral Arm, both in plain blue jumpsuits, her showing him how to moon-walk to some twentieth-century music.
He was better at it than you were, once he
caught on, too. Comes of dance being so much a part of their society, of
course.
"Ballet is particular music, structured movement--and acting. Juliet--

that was acting." She shrugged. "I--you feel joy at a good performance, or the music, or the audience.... but real emotion gets in the way of the performance, it cheats your audience, and it embarrasses them."

Rob kept the faint, quizzical smile on his face. "I understand. Go on, please...

more tea?" Magdalena shook her head; Bast circled twice and finally jumped down to pad under the desk. Rob poured himself another cupful, took another, now cold, biscuit, and busied himself with adding sweetener to the tea, spreading pale marmalade on the biscuit. "So-- what next with you and David? Or have you thought about it?"

She shook her head. "He wants to apologize, wants me to say it's all right. At the moment--well, it's not all right. And he doesn't want to hear the truth anyway--that I don't feel like he does. Not yet, at least."

"These things happen," Rob reminded her. "I'm just a little concerned about what looks to me like a pattern. Considering your background. You've had seven boyfriends since you've been here--but none of your relationships have gone beyond hand-holding."

"You
were the one who told me I had the right to say 'No' at any level of a relationship," Magdalena pointed out. "Including hand-holding."

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"I still say that. I'm not trying to push you into anything, Magdalena."

"And seven's not so many," she added. "Look at Ladessa, she's had at least nine guys that I know of! And Alexis--she's gone with maybe a dozen girlfriends."

"True enough." Rob laughed quietly, and a corner of his mouth turned up in an abashed grin. "That's not the point. A girl your age should be comfortable with her hormones, and her attraction to boys--all right, or girls, if she's Alexis. Kissing. If I recall, you broke up with Charlie Menarti,
and
Aldwin Cho, because you didn't like the kissing part."

Magdalena shifted, crossing her legs at the knees. "Kissing's just fine. I've kissed--well, I
have,"
she added defensively as Rob eyed her. "Plenty of times, just--Charlie was first term and Aldwin is a sloppy kisser, all right?

And if
you
had been me and David suddenly Frenched you without warning, you'd have yelled, too!" Her cheekbones suddenly red, she clapped a hand Over her mouth.

Rob's eyebrows went up. "Secret's safe with me," he murmured. "You know that."

"I know that," she said, more calmly. "It isn't---I don't
think
it's because of nasty, awful Elder Perkins and his grabby hands. I know when something leaves me feeling dirty, like he did. And I come talk it out with you, Rob, you know I do."

"Sure. And
you
know emotions like that can disguise themselves, which is why I'm pestering you." He paused. After a moment, she shook her head.

"Good. Keep in mind, you're eighteen years old, healthy--but you don't seem to feel the urges most girls your age feel."

Magdalena laughed; her face and throat were still flushed. "Look, honestly,"

she said. "The past two years, I've enjoyed hugging and kissing with a couple of different guys, but I didn't have enough in common with any of them to feel like doing anything more than that. Especially when I've got so little free time as it is. But my hormones are just fine. Fair enough?''

Rob ate the last bite of his biscuit and washed it down with cool tea. "Fair enough," he said finally. "I just want to be

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sure if you left the school tomorrow, say, that you'd be as mentally together as we can make you."

"I understand that," Magdalena replied quietly. "I know you can't make me a hundred percent, or make all my years on New Am just--go away. But since I won't be leaving the school tomorrow ... I
won't
be, will I?'' she asked suddenly. "Ladessa's accident and then talking about David drove everything else out of my mind. You said, a message from Khyriz?"

Rob grinned. "Message from Khyriz, one for each of us. And no, you aren't leaving the school tomorrow, your grades and everything else are well above average, so no, we aren't kicking you out. And no, there's no outbound ship for at least a week, and none headed through Arekkhi space for almost a month."

"Arekkhi space?"

"Message first," Rob said firmly. "Here." He shifted his plate and cup to the other side of the desk and keyed the holo-tank. "I'll start it so you can see the message he sent for me, and then your own, unless you'd rather view it privately."

"Here is fine," she said and sat forward to watch him key the holo-tank. Her eyes went wide as the tank shimmered and Khyriz stood there, life-sized, tall and elegant in his StarBridge jumpsuit. His deep-set, slanting eyes stared into the distance.
My God,
she thought reverently,
he really is as gorgeous
as I remember him.
She leaned toward the tank as he began to speak.

"My good friend Dr. Gable, I send this as the time nears for the CLS

interrelator and translator to leave StarBridge for my world."
How stilted and
unnatural he sounds,
Magdalena thought in surprise. She'd had a couple of taped letters from him since he'd gone home; he hadn't sounded like that at all. "I would like to request a favor of you and the School, to permit Magdalena Perez to also travel on that ship, and visit my world and my home for a short time. As you know, I had hopes she might be chosen as a member of the team..." Wide-eyed, she glanced at Rob, then turned back to the holo-tank. She'd missed a few words; Khyriz had begun to pace within the small area marked for taping a letter--very unlike

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his usual poise. "I understand your reasoning and of course I know the two women chosen. My father and his council will, I think, be pleased.

"But could the School not consider such a journey to be 'fieldwork'? In case there is an opportunity for Magdalena to come to Arekkhi as interrelator or translator at some future date?" His whiskers curved forward in an Arekkhi smile that flattened the upturned corners of his mouth; Magdalena's mouth was suddenly dry. "Since my motive is the very selfish desire to see my good friend once again, and be the one to introduce her to my world, I would, of course, gladly cover the cost of her transportation and any costs of her stay here. As well as the cost of your reply to this message, and any reply Magdalena will care to make to my appended letter to her." He bowed formally--actually an Arekkhi bow didn't involve movement of the back at all, and this particular movement of hands and arms meant, "One who knows little is privileged to salute one of rank and bearing."