Star Trek Page 3

  “I know, Mom. I miss you too.”

  They smiled at each other. Some regret on one side; some apprehension on the other. But also a great deal of love.

  “But we have to make sacrifices if we want to achieve our full potential,” said Siobhan.

  Well, that moment passed quickly, Sylvia thought. She watched her mother carefully. She had the feeling that some big announcement was coming. She was pretty certain that her mom was going to say that living with Granna wasn’t working, and she had been planning her responses to that. The important thing was not to get swamped, not to let her mother’s reasoning make what she wanted seem childish, petty, unreasonable. It wasn’t unreasonable to want to live with Granna. It wasn’t unreasonable to want to be herself.

  A bottle of champagne arrived. Sylvia oohed and aahed appropriately as the cork was popped. She could pass on champagne, if she was honest; the bubbles didn’t agree with her. But Mom liked it, and so from an early age Sylvia had often found herself glass in hand. People seemed to think it was a treat for her. Usually she had a sip or two and then put the glass aside. She wasn’t sure how she’d manage that here, under such scrutiny. Check your messages, Mom, she thought weakly. I could do with a break.

  “So,” said Siobhan. “I have some good news, darling.”

  Here we go. Sylvia braced herself.

  “I’ve found a school for you, Sylvia. It’s perfect, absolutely perfect!”

  Okay, Sylvia thought cautiously. I didn’t see that one coming.

  “It’s off Earth,” Siobhan went on, “which, obviously, isn’t ideal, but the curriculum! Sylvia, wait till you see it! It’s exactly what you need to take the diplomatic route. I’ll send you the brochure—I couldn’t believe it when I saw it. I would have loved it at your age!”

  Siobhan had never forgiven Adèle the strict convent school to which she had been banished for what she referred to as her “interminable and blighted adolescence” and “tantamount to forced claustration.” When she complained, Adèle would shrug and say, “You’ve done all right, haven’t you?”

  Sylvia was catching up. “This school . . . you said it’s not on Earth?”

  “No, it’s on Talaris IV.”

  “I’ve . . . never heard of Talaris IV.”

  “I have to confess I hadn’t either. Very quiet. But the point about that is that the security is excellent. Sylvia”—Siobhan reached out to take her daughter’s hand—“you know how seriously we have to take that. More so, as my role becomes higher profile.”

  Sylvia, instinctively, clutched her mom’s hand. Of course she understood. It had been drummed into her from an early age. Her mom’s work brought the attention of some pretty nasty people, people who wouldn’t hesitate to use her children to get to her. Sylvia had gotten used to bodyguards, security; she barely even noticed it anymore. It was the water she swam in. So, yes, security was fine, of course—but off Earth?

  “Mom,” she said, “let me get this right . . . This school . . . Am I going to be boarding there?”

  Siobhan blinked at her. “What a silly question. Of course you’ll be boarding! You can’t get back to Granna every night from Talaris IV.”

  “But Granna, Quinn . . .”

  “Can take good care of themselves.” Her mother tutted. “Honestly, Sylvia, I thought you’d be more excited. I know how much you love Granna and Quinn, but surely you have to admit it’s fairly dull living with them. This way you get to be with people of your own age, make friends your own age—”

  “I already have friends. Tons of friends—” Okay, that was something of an exaggeration, but that wasn’t the point.

  “You’ll make more friends,” her mother said, with more confidence than Sylvia felt. “That’s a good thing, particularly as you get older. It’s good to network as widely as you can.”

  I don’t want to network, thought Sylvia. I just want a couple of pals. How can I make pals when I’m being shunted halfway across the quadrant . . . ?

  “Playtime has to stop soon, darling. If you’re going to be a serious person, you have to start thinking seriously. You’re so privileged, Sylvia! People like us—we get to shape the Federation! We wield power and influence. We get to make things happen. We make a difference. And so we have a responsibility to learn to use that privilege as wisely as we can.”

  Yes, thought Sylvia wretchedly, I know all that, and it only makes me feel selfish, and ungrateful, and wrong . . . “Mom,” she said desperately, “have you talked to Dad about this?”

  “Dad? No, he’s out of reach. But I know he’ll see the sense of this.”

  “Perhaps we should wait to talk to him? I mean, it’s a big decision all round—”

  “Well, we’ll talk to him when we get the chance. But I’ve had to pull some strings to get you in so quickly, and so I don’t think he’s going to disagree.”

  Sylvia sighed. Dad tended to defer to Mom when it came to her education, and right now he was so far away that it would be a done deal before he got his say.

  Siobhan was frowning. “Oh, do cheer up, Sylvia. This is an incredible opportunity! It’s a great school, full of fascinating people. You’re going to have a ball!” Siobhan reached for her champagne glass. “Come on. Let’s have a toast. Happy birthday, dearest Sylvia! Here’s to your future. Your wonderful, wonderful future!”

  But what future? Sylvia felt glum just thinking about it. A diplomat? Really, Mom? Me? She reached for her glass, missed, and sent champagne flooding across the crisp white linen of the tablecloth. Waiters appeared from nowhere and cleared it away in seconds, but her mother was sighing and rolling her eyes.

  And Sylvia resigned herself to her fate.

  * * *

  The day ended at last. Siobhan gave her a quick peck on each cheek, and squeezed her tight, and then the transporter took hold, and Sylvia was back in the garden of Granna’s house. Paris twinkled beautifully around her. I don’t want to go, she thought sadly. I don’t want to go to yet another dumb school. No Granna. No Quinn . . .

  She clumped inside. Granna was waiting, and when she saw Sylvia, she came to fold her into a hug. “How was it?”

  “Oh, you know. We did a lot of . . . things.”

  Granna held her at arm’s length. “So I see.”

  “The show was fun.”

  “Oh yes?”

  “There was a butler who was very clever, and a sort of posh lord who was very dumb . . . It was really, well, English, I guess . . .”

  “But not Shakespeare.”

  “No, Granna,” said Sylvia wryly. “It was definitely not Shakespeare.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “It was okay.”

  Adèle led her toward the drawing room.

  “Granna,” said Sylvia, “did Mom mention the school?”

  Granna sighed. “She did.”

  “And?”

  “She’s your mother, Sylvia. It’s her decision.”

  Sylvia stopped still. Her grandmother turned to look at her.

  “Sylvia?”

  “Could you maybe—just a thought, putting it out there, just in case—maybe not give me up without a fight?”

  Adèle pulled her granddaughter into an embrace. “Oh, my darling girl!” she said. “You always have a home here. But what can I do, chérie?”

  Sylvia nodded. She’d known that was what Granna would say, but it had been worth a try. They went into the drawing room. Quinn, who was sitting in his chair, looked up and goggled at the apparition swaying toward him. “Good god, girl!” he cried. “Get those shoes off immediately! They look like hell!”

  Sylvia kicked off the appalling shoes. She went over to Quinn and threw her arms around him. “I do love you, Quinn,” she said. “You’re such a pal.”

  Quinn smiled, and gave her a hug. “Back at you, darling.”

  “He has his moments,” said Adèle. “Now. Bed. School in the morning.”

  * * *

  When Sylvia got to her bedroom, there was a message waiting f
or her. A Starfleet seal, and then a familiar face. Short red hair—very short, to keep the curls under control—and a thoughtful, calm face. Lieutenant Iain Tilly, one of the quadrant’s leading xenoarchaeologists, currently serving on the science vessel Dorothy Garrod, and about a hundred million billion light-years away from his only child, who right now was missing him more than anything else in the world. He’d taken this posting last year, and they’d all known that it would take him out of contact for long periods of time, but Sylvia thought now that perhaps if she’d understood better what that would mean, she might have asked him not to go . . . No, she would never have done that. This posting was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for Iain, and she wouldn’t have dreamed of stopping him. Still, though, she couldn’t help wondering sometimes if he would have stayed, if she’d asked.

  “Hi, Sills,” Iain said. “Sweet sixteen. Happy birthday, my amazing girl.”

  “Hi, Daddy,” she said, and smiled.

  Iain reached under the table, pulled out a party hat, and perched it on his head. A tiny golden cone with a pink tassel, and elastic that went around his chin. He looked preposterous. Sylvia started to laugh. “Hang on a minute,” he said, rummaging around his desk. “There was a party popper here a second ago . . .” He found it. He popped it. The paper went all over him. He pulled a face and looked even more preposterous. Sylvia kept on laughing.

  “Well,” he said, “I hope it’s your birthday still, or close enough. We’ve been off the beaten track for a while.”

  “Nearly a week late, Daddy, truth be told,” said Sylvia sadly. “But don’t worry. I understand.”

  “We’re having an amazing trip out here, Sills. I can’t wait to show you what we’ve found. I think we can backdate the start of the second Emmessinian Empire by nearly fifty years, based on what we’re finding.”

  “Hey,” she said. “That’s big news. Wait till I tell you about my science paper!” Dad loved hearing about that kind of thing. Dad was her pal.

  “I wish I could talk to you in person, Sills. I miss you so much. Sixteen! I can’t believe it!”

  “You and me both, mister,” Sylvia said fervently.

  “Okay, I don’t want to miss my chance to send this. I love you so much, Sills. I know I’ve not been around much this past year. But I’m here for you. I love you, little girl. I really love you. I think you’re incredible.”

  The message ended. Sylvia took off her new dress and hung it up as per instructions, and shook out her hair, and carefully removed her makeup. She put on her pajamas and watched the message again. When she was done, she lay down on her bed.

  “I love you too, Daddy,” she said to the ceiling. “But I’m not really a little girl anymore, you know? And I wish—oh, I wish—I knew what it was I did that made you go away.”

  2

  * * *

  The journey out to Talaris IV took over a week. Nope, thought Sylvia, no chance of popping back to see Granna, no chance of zipping between New York and Paris to enjoy both cities, in the way she had become accustomed to. Instead . . . Well, what? What were boarding schools like, really?

  Sylvia had read some boarding-school stories as a kid. And, like most kids, she had fantasized briefly about being whisked away to one, suddenly free of her mother’s overbearing presence. Be careful what you wish for, huh? Still, she was smart enough to know that those books probably weren’t going to be good preparation for this school. There weren’t just girls there, for one thing, and she doubted things would be so formal as those schools. There probably wouldn’t be all that much in the way of wizards, either . . . Still, she thought cautiously, it might be fun. Perhaps, thrown in with other people like this, there would be a chance to make some good friends. Sylvia had found in the past that when she started to get close to people her own age, when she started to relax and speak her mind, they tended to drift away from her. People really could be very touchy.

  Siobhan couldn’t get away from her work to make such a long journey, of course, so Adèle traveled out with Sylvia to school. Wherever Adèle went, Quinn followed, and that made the voyage particularly cheerful. Sylvia always remembered this as a time of great laughter and happiness. They lounged around the passenger liner, swam, read, ate good food, and generally had a great holiday.

  “Going to miss having you around, love,” Quinn said to Sylvia the last night on board ship. “You brighten up the place. Without you, me and your Granna will be a real pair of old duffers.”

  “I’m going to miss you too, Quinn,” she said, and sighed.

  “Are you nervous, love?” he said.

  “Yes,” she said, “of course. I just don’t know what to expect . . .”

  “Hockey sticks and midnight feasts?”

  Sylvia laughed. “Oh, I don’t think so. They’re all going to be serious people, aren’t they? Serious about study, serious about their plans . . .”

  “You’re serious too, you know,” Quinn said.

  Who? Me? Silly Tilly, that’s me. She pulled a face.

  He must have caught her expression. He leaned in, put his hand upon hers, and said, “You’ll find your way, Sylvia. But it might not be what you think it’s going to be.”

  “Well,” she said, “whatever it is, it’s sure taking its time making itself known.”

  “There’s no hurry, love,” he said.

  Their ship made orbit, and they transported down to the surface of Talaris IV, to a public transporter a little distance from the school. The school had sent a groundcar to pick them up. Sylvia’s nervousness was returning now that the moment approached when Granna and Quinn would say goodbye. When they reached the school boundary, they had to come through security. Even just to enter the school grounds was a huge task, a process as rigorous as those at some of the official buildings Sylvia had visited accompanying her mother. There were ID and genetic checks for all three of them, and then a brief delay while Sylvia was equipped with a tracker to locate her within the grounds. Both Granna and Quinn looked thoroughly approving. Quinn did nudge her, though, and point down to the little mark on her wrist where the tracker now was. “There’ll be no sneaking off from here,” he said, and chuckled.

  Once they were let through, the car took them up the long drive to the school. Tall trees with bright red leaves lined the avenue so thickly that Sylvia, peering out, couldn’t see anything beyond. And then the trees stopped, and the road opened out in front of a big house, built from the local yellow stone. Sylvia had skimmed the brochure that her mother had sent across, and so knew that this had been the country house of some kind of minor aristocrat back when Talaris had that kind of thing. It was very sensibly republican these days. The house was the only historical part of the school, though, and it was where the teachers had their offices and studies. The rest of the brochure boasted of the brand-new facilities available to the students in the rest of the complex.

  The grounds were pretty, Sylvia had to admit. This part of the planet was temperate, a mild climate with good rainfall. The lawns in front of the buildings were green and well kept, the flowerbeds bright and orderly. Adèle made approving noises, but Sylvia was less impressed. It all seemed . . . well, dull, to be honest, like every embassy she had visited over the years. And so quiet . . . Where were all the students?

  The car stopped in front of the big main doors, which were standing open. The little party got out. Quinn, looking around with a keen eye, noted the unobtrusive security scanners all over. As they unloaded their bags, an imposing Vulcan woman emerged from the house. “That’s the head,” Adèle whispered in her ear. “Stavath. Try to stay on the right side of her.”

  Stavath greeted Adèle and Quinn, and then turned to Sylvia. “Good morning, Miss Tilly,” she said. “And welcome to our academy. We hope you’ll be happy here, and successful.”

  She stood openmouthed. “Sylvia,” Adèle murmured gently, prompting her to remember her manners.

  “Thank you. Thank you very much. I hope so too.”

  “I’ve ar
ranged for one of our students to show you around,” said Stavath. At this, a girl stepped forward, about Sylvia’s age, although smaller, rather slight, in fact, and with playful brown eyes that crinkled into a smile when she saw Sylvia. “Hello,” she said, offering her hand, rather formally. “I’m Miss Igova.”

  Jeez, thought Sylvia, is it all titles and surnames around here? She put out her hand nonetheless. “Tilly,” she said. “You can call me Tilly.” She wondered to hear herself say it. New place, new name, she thought. Let’s go with it. The other girl’s brows knitted briefly in confusion, and then she smiled again, and said, “I’m Risera. I’m really pleased to meet you, Tilly. I hope you’ll enjoy it here.”

  The introductions over, Stavath withdrew, inviting Adèle and Quinn to join her later at a reception for all new parents and guardians. Sylvia looked anxiously at Risera, who had turned to Adèle. “Je suis heureuse de vous avoir rencontré et j’espère que vous pourrez nous joindre pour notre tournée aujourd’hui,” Risera said. Her accent was flawless.

  Adèle almost melted. “Je serais ravie!”

  Adèle and Risera went on their way, Quinn and Sylvia following. “Damn,” whispered Quinn in Sylvia’s ear, “she’s something else, isn’t she?”

  Sylvia nodded. She wouldn’t admit it on pain of death, but she felt somewhat awestruck by this girl, so poised and confident and competent. I hope she’ll be friends with me.

  They went on through the school, Risera chattering away to Adèle in French, describing the various rooms and buildings that they passed. Sylvia saw spacious and well-equipped classrooms and music practice rooms to die for; she shuddered slightly at the sight of tennis courts and fields for ballgames. The conversation ahead went on. Quinn winked at Sylvia, who rolled her eyes. Maybe Granna should come here instead.