"There are reasons," Barin said vaguely; he didn't feel like explaining millenia of military tradition to a privileged civilian who was in a mood to dislike it anyway. "But if you don't like it, why did you come?"

"Admiral Serrano recommended it. Over my father's objections, in fact. She said I would benefit from the chance to develop my special talents in a controlled environment."

"That sounds like a quote," Barin said.

"You know Admiral-oh, that's right, you are a Serrano. So you also know Heris, I'd imagine?"

"Admiral Serrano is my grandmother; Commander Serrano is one of my cousins." No need to go into that.

"Well, then, we'll be friends," Brun said, taking his arm in a way that made him distinctly uncomfortable. "Now let's go have some fun."

Barin thought longingly of Esmay, hard at work no doubt in her quarters.

CHAPTER THREE.

Brun had developed a habit of stopping by Esmay's quarters every day or so, for what she termed "a friendly chat." Esmay did her best to be polite, though she resented the time it cost her, and even more the fact that Brun seemed to consider herself qualified to comment on everything in Esmay's life.

"Your hair," she said, on one of her first visits. "Have you ever considered having it rerooted?"

Her hair had been an issue since childhood; before she could stop herself, she had run a hand over it trying to smooth it down. "No," Esmay said.

"Well, it would probably help," Brun said, cocking her own gold head to one side. "You've got quite nice bones . . ."

"I have quite a nice lot of work to do, too," Esmay said. "If you don't mind." And was not sure which was worse, the insults or the casual way Brun slouched out, apparently not the least offended.

One evening, she arrived with Barin, who made some excuse and left, casting a lingering glance that Esmay wished she knew how to interpret.

"He's nice," Brun said, settling herself on Esmay's bunk as if she owned it.

"More than nice," Esmay said, trying unsuccessfully not to resent Brun's proprietary tone. Just

what had Barin and Brun been doing?

"Handsome, courteous, clever," Brun went on. "Too bad he's only an ensign-if he were your rank, he'd be perfect for you. You could fall for him-"

"I don't want to 'fall for' anyone in that sense," Esmay said. She was uneasily aware that her ears felt warm. "We're colleagues-"

Brun cocked an eyebrow. "Is Altiplano one of those places where no one can talk about sex?"

Her ears felt more than warm; her whole face burned. "One can," she said between clenched teeth.

"Polite people, however, do not."

"Sorry," Brun said. She didn't look, or sound, very sorry. "But it must make it hard to talk about

people, and to people. How do you indicate . . . preference?"

"I had none," Esmay said. That sounded bad, even to her. "I left my home world quite young," she added. That wasn't much better, but she couldn't think of anything that would help.

"Mmm. So when you met attractive young men-or women-you had only instinct to help you." Brun buffed her fingernails on her vest, and examined them critically. "And they say the men are the inarticulate ones."

"You-that's-rude."

"Is it?" Brun didn't sound concerned; she sounded arrogant. "If it seemed so to you, I'm sorry. I didn't intend it that way. We don't have the same rules, you see."

"You must have some," Esmay said. Whatever they were, they didn't match Fleet's-or Altiplano's.

"Well . . . it would be rude to discuss the grittier bits with someone who was not a friend-or

while eating."

Despite herself, Esmay wondered what Brun might mean by "grittier bits."

"And," Brun went on, "it would be rude to comment on someone's genetic makeup as revealed in

their-I'm not sure what term wouldn't offend you. Body parts? Equipment?"

"Genetic makeup!" This was not what she had expected; curiosity overcame outrage.

"Whether they're a Registered Embryo or not, and what the code is."

"You mean that's . . . visible?"

"Of course," Brun said, still in the superior tone that was raking Esmay's patience. "There's the

registration mark, and the code number. How else are you going to be sure-? Oh. You don't do

that."

"Well, I certainly don't have any registration marks or numbers on me," Esmay said. The thought made her skin twitch, but curiosity was a worse torment. "Where-?"

"Lower left abdomen," Brun said promptly. "Want to see?"

"No!" Esmay said, with more force than she intended.

"I didn't mean that," Brun said, not specifying. "But surely you have-I mean, you're older than I

am."

"What I do is none of your business," Esmay said. "And I plan to keep it that way."

Brun opened her mouth and shut it again, then gave a little shrug that irritated Esmay as much as

anything she might have said. She fished in one of her pockets and brought up a tangle of wire

with a few plastic beads on it. "Here-know what this is?"

"Haven't a clue," Esmay said, glad to be off the topic of Barin.

"According to Ty, it's a good-luck charm. I thought it was a chunk of obsolete electronics."

"Mmm." Esmay gave the little object a better look, then grinned.

"What?" Brun asked.

"Well . . . it's a good-luck charm only under certain circumstances. That is-this is the sort of thing they gave us when we started the senior scan course. You were supposed to hang it up-did Ty mention that?"

"Yes-above my desk, from the lamp bracket."

"Uh huh. What it is, underneath the distractions of bent wire and pretty beads, is a scan device.

Along about week six, if you were doing your work, you would suddenly realize that it had been transmitting everything you did and said . . . and you'd look up-everyone did-and that picture of your sudden revelation went into the class scrapbook. The earlier, the better luck . . . they'd calculated the mean, and if you beat the mean, you got extra points, depending on how early you were."

"You mean it's . . . spying on me?"