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  “Risera,” said Tilly, who knew her limits. “I was terrible.”

  “You’ve never done it before! You just need practice!”

  Tilly shook her head, a firm no. “No matter how much I do this, I won’t get better. Look, it was nice of you to invite me, but I don’t want to ruin things for the others . . .”

  Xoha came past. “Tilly! You were terrible!” She was laughing, and she didn’t mean anything unkind by it, Tilly knew, but still, did she have to be so plainspoken all the time? “Hey,” Xoha said, a gleam in her eye, “why don’t you try one of the drums?”

  “Oh yes!” said Risera. “That’s a brilliant idea!”

  “Oh, I don’t think so . . .” said Tilly.

  “No, come on!” Risera pulled her back over to the water and made her sit in the prow behind the two big drums. “Okay,” she said. “You’re in charge.”

  “Risera, I really don’t think this is a good idea—”

  “Come on, Tilly, you’re the boss now!” She shoved the beaters into Tilly’s hands.

  “Honestly, I don’t think I can do this!”

  But the others were all clambering into their seats and calling out their enthusiastic support. “Come on, Tilly! Yes, you can! You can do it!”

  Her instinct was to say: No, no, no! I really can’t! But then Tilly thought of her dad, saying Give it a go! She muttered to herself, “Dignity. Who needs it?” She took a deep breath. Okay Let’s do this.

  She tried out the drum. “Can you hear me at the back?”

  “Sure can, Captain!”

  Captain, she thought. That’s a joke. She twisted the beaters around in her hands. All right, she thought. Tentatively, she began to beat out a steady rhythm.

  And the crew followed. Wow, she thought. That actually works . . . She increased the pace, and the boat began to move out into the open water.

  “That’s it, Tilly!” shouted Xoha. “You’re getting it!”

  She kept the beat, and called out instructions, and the little red boat lined up against the others. She looked down the boat at the crew, each one of them looking at her expectantly. Tilly found that if she breathed, slowly and steadily, they all began to fall in with her breathing. So when she started the drum, they were all already in synch . . .

  On the side, they were waiting to start the race. Tilly lifted up the beaters, breathed with her crew—then the whistle sounded, and they were off.

  Thud, went the drums, and the oars followed, slicing through the water. She saw that Xoha was a little behind, just a split second, and she called to her, “Keep the pace!” She was conscious of the blues-and-greens, to her left, inching ahead, but she didn’t panic. Second by second, she upped the pace, chasing them. The purples-and-whites were soon far behind. It seemed to Tilly she could see the whole race unfolding in her mind’s eye—how to use the strokes of the other team to help them, how to manage the distance between them so they weren’t cut off . . . Patterns, she thought. I’m good at seeing patterns . . . At her instructions, they sliced through the water, keeping up the pace, though never quite catching up on the blues-and-greens. They came in second—but it was very, very close.

  Risera was ecstatic. She hopped out of the boat into the shallows and splashed up to give Tilly a big hug.

  “See!” she said. “I knew you’d like bossing people around!”

  Tilly, still recovering from the thrill of the race, burst out laughing. “Sera, that was amazing! The power,” she laughed. “All of you, at my command!”

  Risera laughed and squeezed her arm. Tilly felt like she was walking on air. One of the blues-and-greens came over and patted her on the back. “Is today really your first time on the water?”

  Tilly nodded. The boy laughed and called back to his crew. “Hey, I think we’ve got some competition!”

  * * *

  It made a difference. Sure, the early mornings stank, but there was something about being out there on the open water, with the cool air whipping past, setting the rhythm and calling out to the team—her team. Tilly loved the freedom of the open water, but most of all, what she liked was knowing that she fit in at last. That she had a team, a gang, a set of pals, and that they were all pulling together and working together and looking to her for leadership. It was fun reading up on the subject too, and talking to Risera about it, and finding out what the colors symbolized, and planning the tunes and the display for the pageant at the end of the term . . . A team, she thought. I’ve never been part of a team before.

  Heartened by all this, and wanting to find some more like-minded souls, Tilly came up with a new idea. Students were in general encouraged to set up their own clubs, the idea being that they would learn from promoting them and administrating them, not to mention from managing the inevitable conflicts and squabbles that came with any small group or society. Tilly knew what she wanted more than anything else. One evening, Risera came back to their room to find Tilly hard at work putting together some posters. “What’s this?” she said.

  “Okay, so you know that I’m not convinced we have enough science and technology on the curriculum,” said Tilly. It was something she complained about all the time, to the amusement of the rest of the gang, who rolled their eyes and begged her not to make their lives a misery. What if you succeed? they wailed.

  Risera laughed. “There’s enough for me!”

  “And every time I raise it with the teachers, they tell me that the timetable is full.”

  “They’re right,” said Risera. “I can’t fit anything else in, and we haven’t even started thinking about the exams and presentations at the end of the term—”

  “Okay, so I’ve given up on changing the curriculum. Instead, I’m going to start an engineering club.”

  Risera blinked. “A what?”

  “Engineering club!”

  Risera frowned. “Is that a thing?”

  “Sure!”

  “But what will you do? Sit around building bridges?”

  “Well, maybe,” said Tilly. “Why not?”

  “Where?” said Risera in bewilderment.

  “Oh, don’t be silly, you use construction programs. Anyway, I was thinking of something more relaxed. You know, share any programming or research projects we have going on. Maybe some short presentations about new scientific developments or breakthroughs that have caught our eye . . .”

  Risera shrugged. “Okay. Well, if that’s what you want to do in your free time.”

  Tilly felt slightly crushed. “You’ll join, won’t you?”

  Risera glanced at her, and Tilly had the sense that her emotions were being read. She pursed her lips. Sometimes, this sensitivity was annoying rather than supportive . . .

  “I honestly can’t fit in anything else,” said Risera.

  Tilly sighed. She knew that was completely true. If she was being honest, she probably didn’t have enough time for this either, but she was doing all the reading anyway, and it would be nice to have other people to talk to. And it would only be one evening a week . . .

  “Tilly, are you quite sure about this?” Risera said.

  Tilly looked up from her poster. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Well, you’re doing a lot already, and, you know, it’s not really core to what we do here.”

  Tilly sat back on her heels. “Core? What do you mean by that? What’s more core than science—”

  “Oh, I don’t mean to put your interests down. I know we need a good grounding in science, to be able to make good policy, but . . .” Risera shrugged. “We’ll have expert advisors for all this stuff, won’t we? When we’re in the corps, or the civil service, or wherever . . . It’s just not possible to be a specialist in subjects like this, is it? It takes people a lifetime to become specialists in some subjects. We’re aiming to be good generalists.”

  Tilly looked at her uncomprehendingly. “But what about doing something that you really love?”

  Risera was puzzled. “But I love all this . . .” She frowned.
“Tilly, don’t you?”

  “What? The diplomatic corps? You know, and I’m speaking from experience here, Risera, but it’s not that much fun. There’s a lot of standing around holding champagne glasses and chatting—”

  “I know,” said Risera. “My parents are diplomats too. And what you call standing around chatting, I call talking to people from different backgrounds and cultures, visiting new and fascinating places—”

  Tilly pulled a face. “One embassy is very like another, Sera.”

  There was a pause. “But the work,” said Risera. “It’s important. When we’re out there, we make a genuine difference. Solving conflicts, maybe even stopping wars!”

  “Oh, sure, yes, but, you know, there’s also a lot of time spent making really annoying people feel like what they have to say is important so that they don’t go off in a huff. You know? An awful lot of chitchat and time wasted. Protocol, they call it. I think we could all do with a lot less messing around and a lot more getting on with things.”

  Risera didn’t reply. She sat down at her desk and opened her notes. She was chewing her bottom lip. Tilly had the vaguest feeling that maybe she had offended. “I’m not saying that it’s not important,” she said awkwardly. “It’s just . . . I think lots of other things are important too.”

  “Sure,” said Risera. She picked up her pen. “Hey, I think I’m just going to be in your way. I’m going to head over to Semett’s. She’s got some notes from the last sociology class that I’d like to take a look at. Come and join us later, if you like.” She gave a wry smile. “It’ll save on the washing up.”

  Tilly, confused, watched her go. What just happened? She shook her head and turned back to the posters. People were weird sometimes. People were touchy.

  * * *

  The first meeting of the engineering club was a quiet success. There were four of them altogether, including Tilly, which was smaller than she’d hoped, but it was good that there were at least some like-minded souls who wanted to geek out for a couple of hours a week. Tilly had booked one of the classrooms, but the group was so small that she decided it would be easier simply to hold the meeting in her room. The first session was fine, although Tilly wasn’t sure that they followed her presentation on astromycology, but then there was a talk on binary stars, and someone had brought along a board game they were developing, and they had fun beta-testing it.

  They all agreed to meet in Tilly’s room again the following week. It wasn’t as if they’d be disturbing Risera with their noncore discussions, Tilly thought. Risera was working on a sociology paper with Semett and had been hanging out in her room in the evenings. The rest of the gang seemed to have migrated over there too, so there was no chance of them interrupting the discussions either. Tilly was very disappointed that none of her gang had shown any interest in coming along to the club, but not everyone had to enjoy the same things, did they? Besides, it was nice to have a little peace and quiet in the room. The others did get very noisy, and they weren’t great about keeping the place neat and tidy.

  She still saw Risera every morning at the lake. The Arixxian rowing had really taken off, partly because of Risera’s sterling promotional efforts, and partly because it was genuinely fun. There were eight teams out on the water most mornings. Tilly had helped Risera design some posters and then had gone around with her, putting them up all around the school. (Huh, she thought. All that work I did for her. You think Sera could have helped publicize my engineering club!) The teachers were starting to ask questions about the rowing, and Risera was pushing for it to be recognized as an official school sport. It was all getting pretty serious out there, and very competitive. Some of the seniors were muttering about getting a team together and showing them how it should be done. Tilly didn’t mind the upsurge in interest in the sport: in fact, she was loving it, not just because of the pleasure of the open water, but because it brought her and Risera into close contact. They were both ambitious for the reds-and-yellows, and when they were working together it felt like they were still close.

  One morning, after a particularly grueling session, the team downed oars at the far side of the lake. They pored over their timings, and Tilly issued a few pointers as to how she thought they could improve. In the distance, the bell rang to tell students it was fifteen minutes until they were expected to be down for breakfast. They scrambled into the boat and Tilly started the motor. They didn’t waste time and energy rowing back—they used as much time as they could for practice, and then got to the school as efficiently as possible. This morning, however, the motor wouldn’t start. There was a gasp and splutter, and then nothing.

  “What’s going on?” said Risera.

  “Motor’s dead,” said Tilly shortly.

  Everyone groaned. This meant they would have to row back, and dash to the showers, and hurry through breakfast—if they still had enough time left for breakfast—or risk being late for the first attendance and getting into trouble for that . . .

  “Don’t worry,” said Tilly cheerfully. “I’ve got this.”

  She got to work. The team looked on, some sighing, some rolling their eyes. “Tilly,” Xoha said. “Can we just get rowing? We don’t have time for you to tinker with the—”

  The engine started. “If you guys could hop into the boat rather than stand around chattering,” said Tilly brightly, “we can all get to breakfast.”

  They did what they were told. Soon they were speeding back toward the other side of the lake, and then on their way to breakfast. Tilly sat with Risera and Xoha and the rest of the gang.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” said Xoha to the others. “Tilly just fixed the motor on our boat.”

  “No way,” said Erisel.

  “Tilly, you have some amazing hidden talents,” said Semett.

  Tilly, who was feeling rather cross about the whole business because, actually, nobody had as yet thanked her for getting them all back in time for breakfast, put down her slice of toast. “You know,” she said, “all those cocktail parties and fancy dinners are all very well, but who’ll be the first to complain if the lights and the food slots aren’t working? Nobody can be”—she did air quotes—“ ‘diplomatic’ under those circumstances.”

  There was a silence. Her friends, Tilly realized, were all goggling at her.

  “Okay,” said Erisel, at last. “Well, I guess she told us.”

  They carried on with breakfast, but without conversation. Tilly looked at her friends, who seemed to be sharing glances with one another. Have I said something wrong? She looked around and saw, at the far end of the table, two of the teachers. One of them caught her eye, winked, and began to laugh quietly to herself. The rest of the gang finished up and made their way off to class, leaving Tilly alone. The teacher who had winked at her came past. “Tilly,” she said, “never change. You’re a hoot.”

  Tilly picked up her tray and carried it to the dispenser. She felt herself starting to flush. I’m not sure, she thought, that I want to be a hoot . . .

  3

  * * *

  Five weeks into the semester, the school stopped for a short midterm holiday. By this time, they were all in need of a break. The nonstop whirl of classes, activities, and study, as well as the hothouse atmosphere that comes with any small, sealed-off community, made for an exhausting way of life. Students and teachers alike were glad to put down tools for a few days and take a rest. For most of the students, this meant simply a holiday from lessons for a while; for others, families came to visit for a few days. Siobhan, of course, didn’t have the time to visit, Iain was out of contact, and Adèle and Quinn were away too, vacationing with old friends on Risa. Adèle had offered to cancel, but Tilly was insistent. “You’ve been stuck with me for a year,” she said cheerfully. “It’s about time you guys got to be on your own.”

  But as the holiday drew closer, Tilly was regretting her selflessness. Friends from both the rowing and engineering clubs began to talk excitedly about the arrival of their own famili
es, and she began to think, as she often did, how nice it would be to have a regular family: Mom, Dad, maybe a baby brother or something, four of them, in a nice house somewhere. She shook herself. She’d had enough sociology classes by now to know that families came in all kinds of different forms. Andorians had all those parents, didn’t they? And what about Maltrisians, where the mother laid the egg, the father hatched it, and two uncles brought it up? How many human families did she know, really, who were a little foursome? Hardly any.

  She put on a brave face and kept herself busy. The teachers were sensitive to the fact that some students had families who couldn’t make the trip, so there were plenty of activities: interactive displays and exhibitions from the various societies and clubs for the visitors, demonstrations from the sports teams, even a short revue one afternoon, produced by some of the seniors. Tilly threw herself into creating a poster display for the engineering club, explaining the work that the members were doing, and the Arixxian rowers held a short regatta, not so much races as a display of colors and a good lively racket from the drummers. Altogether, there was a festival feel around the school for the week, and it made a good break from what was otherwise a fairly relentless routine. Still, Tilly couldn’t help feeling sad that nobody was making the trip to see her. Dad had asked her to send him some footage of the races, and copies of her posters. But it wasn’t the same.

  Risera turned out to be sensitive to her feelings. Both of her parents were visiting, her father having arranged to stop over on Talaris IV en route back to Arixus from his posting out on Ktaris. One evening, the night before the break started in earnest, Risera was back in their room for once. She looked up from her desk and said, “Tilly, would you like to come out with me and my parents while they’re here? They usually take me out one evening for dinner in the capital, and a show . . . We thought . . . Well, I know your family can’t make it this time. And my parents are dying to meet you. I’ve told them all about you.”