"We've done all we can, here," Kenny said. "The only possibility of giving that poor child any kind of a life is to get her into the shell-person program. But the Psychs at the Laboratory Schools seem to think she's too old. They wouldn't even send someone to come evaluate her, even though the parents petitioned them and we added our own recommendations."
He let the sentence trail off significantly. The Secretary-General gave him a sharp look. "And you don't agree with them, I take it?"
Kenny shrugged. "It isn't just my opinion," he said smoothly. "It's the opinion of the staff Psych assigned to her, the shell-person running this station, and a brainship friend of hers in the Courier Service. The one," he added delicately, "who gave her that little bear."
Mentioning the bear sold the deal; Kenny could see it in the Great Man's expression. "We'll just see about that," the Secretary-General said. "The people you talked to don't have all the answers, and they certainly don't have the final say." He stood up and offered Kenny his hand again. "I won't promise anything, but don't be surprised if there's someone from the Laboratory Schools here to see her in the next few days. How soon can you have her ready for transfer, if they take her?"
"Within twelve hours, sir," Kenny replied, secretly congratulating himself for getting her parents to sign a writ-of-consent before they left. Of course, they thought it was for experimental procedures.
Then again, Pota and Braddon had been the ones who'd broached the idea of the shell-person program to the people at the Laboratory Schools and been turned down because of Tia's age.
"Twelve hours?" The Great Man raised an eyebrow. Kenny returned him look for look.
"Her parents are under contract to the Archeological Institute," he explained. "The Institute called them back out into the field, because their parental emergency leave was up. They weren't happy, but it was obey or be fired. Hard to find another job in that field that isn't with the Institute." He coughed. "Well, they trusted my work, and made me Tia's full guardian before they left."
"So you have right-of-disposition and guardianship. Very tidy." The Secretary-General's wry smile showed that he knew he had been maneuvered into this, and that he was not annoyed. "All right. There'll be someone from the schools here within the week. Unless there's something you haven't told me about the girl, he should finish his evaluation in two days. At the end of those two days..." One eyebrow raised significantly. "Well, it would be very convenient if he could take the new recruit back with him, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, sir," Kenny said happily. "It would indeed, sir."
If it hadn't been for Doctor Uhura-Sorg's reputation and the pleas of his former pupil, Lars Mendoza, Philip Gryphon bint Brogen would have been only too happy to tell the committee where to stick the Secretary-General's request. And what to do with it after they put it there. One did not pull strings to get an unsuitable candidate into the shell program! Maybe the Secretary-General thought he could get away with that kind of politicking with Academy admissions, but he was going to find out differently here.
Philip was not inclined to be coaxed and would not give in to bullying. So it was in a decidedly belligerent state of mind that he disembarked from his shuttle onto the docks of the Pride of Albion. Like every hospital station, this one affronted him with its sterile white walls and atmosphere of self-importance.
There was someone waiting, obviously for him, in the reception area. Someone in a Moto-Chair. A handsome young man with thick dark hair and a thin, ascetic face.
If they think they can soften me up by assigning me to someone they think I won't dare be rude to, he thought savagely, as the young man glided the Chair toward him. Conniving beggars.
"Professor Brogen?" said the ridiculously young, vulnerable-looking man, holding out his hand. "I'm Doctor Sorg."
"If you think I'm going to," Brogen began, not reaching out to take it. Then the name registered on him and he did a classic double-take. "Doctor Sorg? Doctor Uhura-Sorg?"
The young man nodded, just the barest trace of a smile showing on his lips.
"Doctor Kennet Uhura-Sorg?" Brogen asked, feeling as if he'd been set up, yet knowing he had set up himself for this particular fall.
"Yes indeed," the young man replied. "I take it that you weren't, ah, expecting me to meet you in person."
A chance for an out, not a graceful one, but an out, and Brogen took it "Hardly," he replied brusquely. "The Chief of Neurosurgery and Neurological Research usually does not meet a simple professor on behalf of an ordinary child."
"Tia is far from ordinary, Professor," Doctor Sorg responded, never once losing that hint of smile. "Any more than you are a 'simple' professor. But, if you'll follow me, you'll find out about Tia for yourself"
Well, he's right about one thing, Brogen thought grudgingly, after an hour spent in Tia's company while hordes of interns and specialists pestered, poked and prodded her. She's not ordinary. Any 'ordinary' child would be having a screaming tantrum by now. She was an extraordinarily attractive child as well as a patient one; her dark hair had been cropped short to keep it out of the way, but her thin, pixie-like face and big eyes made her look like the model for a Victorian fairy. A fairy trapped in a fist of metal... tormented and teased by a swarm of wasps.
"How much longer is this going to go on?" he asked Kennet Sorg in an irritated whisper.
Kennet raised one eyebrow. "That's for you to say," he replied. "You are here to evaluate her. If you want more time alone with her, you have only to say the word. This is her second session for the day, by the way," he added, and Brogen could have sworn there was a hint of, smugness? in his voice. "She played host to another swarm this morning, between nine and noon."
Now Brogen was outraged, but on the child's behalf, Kennet Sorg must have read that in his expression, for he turned his chair towards the cluster of white uniformed interns, cleared his throat, and got their instant attention.
"That will be all for today," he said quietly. "If you please, ladies and gentlemen. Professor Brogen would like to have some time with Tia alone."
There were looks of disappointment and some even of disgust cast Brogen's way, but he ignored them. The child, at least, looked relieved.
Before he could say anything to Kennet Sorg, he realized that the doctor had followed the others out the door, which was closing behind his chair, leaving Brogen alone with the child. He cleared his own throat awkwardly.
The little girl looked at him with a most peculiar expression in her eyes. Not fear, but wariness.
"You're not a Psych, are you?" she asked.
"Well, no," he said. "Not exactly. I'll probably ask some of the same questions, though."
She sighed, and closed her soft brown eyes for a moment. "I'm very tired of having my head shrunk," she replied forthrightly. "Very, very tired. And it isn't going to make any difference at all in the way I think, anyway. It isn't that, but this," she bobbed her chin at her chair "isn't going to go away because it isn't fair. Right?"
"Sad, but true, my dear." He began to relax, and realized why. Kennet Sorg was right This was no ordinary child; talking with her was not like talking to a child, but it was like talking to one of the kids in the shell program. "So, how about if we chat about something else entirely. Do you know any shell-persons?"