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He could not begin to imagine where Mann would lead him...

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About the Author

Details
Publisher	Writers Exchange E-Publishing
Author	Sean O'Brien
Recommended Minimum Age	Suitable for all ages
ISBN Number	1876962658
Word Count	87, 401
Electronic Download Formats:	PDF, PDB (Palm/Ereader), HTML, LIT (Microsoft Reader), PRC (Unencrypted Mobipocket), RB (Rocket), IMP (Gemstar 1150), IMP (Gemstar 2150/Rocket 1200), DNL (desktop author page-flipping format), EXE (Windows Executable page flipping format)
Price:	$4.95

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Chapter One Tyr had learned one lesson very well: he was essentially an errand boy. He had the uniform insignia to prove he was an officer, albeit a Sub-Lieutenant/Specialist Third Class Liaison Officer, but no one ever saluted him or called him "sir". He tried, without success, to convince himself that he didn't want the little honors that came with rank and respect, but he could not think of any other reason to be respected other than those little honors. So here he was, on the landing field, doing a job any enlisted man or woman could have done, if it even needed doing at all. There had been no hiding the derision in the printed order he had received from the Argus computer; his living, breathing C.O. hadn't even deigned to contact him personally to issue the command. But the worst element of all was the identity of the man he was to escort to the barracks. An Educator. Tyr's pride still stung from that added indignity. He was sure that he had been given this assignment on purpose, his superiors sniggering at the irony of it all. It was not the first time they had pointedly brought attention to his handicap, and Tyr knew it would not be the last. He had lived for his entire adult life, and most of his childhood, enduring the taunts of others. He was sure he would suffer more. Tyr shielded his eyes and scanned the sky for the shuttle. There would be no close fighter escort, no stealth field around the shuttle, no protective measures of any kind. The skies above the occupied Mnemosynean cities had been clear of enemies for many years. The last air/space battle had ended before Tyr had been out of training on Earth: this much he had learned slowly and painfully from his special classes. Unconsciously, Tyr pulled his cap down, hiding his smooth, unadorned, and therefore shameful, forehead. A faint noise directed his eyes to a portion of the pale blue sky. The shuttle was a squat, bulbous affair, contrasting sharply with the graceful curves and arcs of the remaining Mnemosynean spires it flew through. It approached the landing field, hovered briefly over the huge white "X" as the human pilot within checked the computer's calculations, and then settled down precisely on the mark. Tyr heaved a great sigh. Horace Mann, he recalled vividly from his assignment tape, was an Educator in the true sense: not merely a trainer or instructor. Trained as a Sixth-level, Mann would no doubt have as colorful a brow as Tyr had ever seen. The shuttle unfolded its rose-petal hull and sat naked on the tarmac. Two people un-strapped and climbed out. The pilot, in her flight grays, assisted the other person extricate himself from his straps. Tyr did not approach the shuttle. Let the Educator walk to him, he thought. It would be a slight repayment of the debt he felt he was owed. Tyr was aware of how petty he was being but, just then, he didn't care. He had earned his petulance through years of fruitless testing, dashed hopes, and broken promises from a system that couldn't find a place for him. Mann climbed gracelessly out of the shuttle and smoothed his drab brown clothes. The pilot handed him a case as he looked around the landing field, then the two of them walked across the field toward Tyr. "Liaison Officer Yllen?" the pilot said in her best pro forma voice. "This is educator Horace Mann." She paused a beat, and then strode off, her duty discharged. Tyr looked Mann over, making no effort to hide the disdain that rode in his eyes. Mann was whiter than most Terrans, with thinning, ash-brown hair and a slightly stoop-shouldered stance. He gave the distinct impression of age, although Tyr knew from his dossier that Mann was only twenty-nine years old. "Good day, Mister Yllen," Mann said stiffly, extending his hand. Tyr toyed briefly with the idea of ignoring him, but decided it would serve no purpose. He shook Mann's hand perfunctorily and snapped, "Come with me." Tyr had been avoiding looking at the other's forehead, but his curiosity took his eyes there for the briefest of moments. He hadn't prepared himself for what he saw. There was a crisscrossing of lines of all colors on Mann's head, some blending into the already-worn creases of thought on the Educator's forehead. Tyr could identify only some of the lines. The black First-degree baseline over the left eye had faded to a muted gray, and the red Second line paralleling it was more of a pinkish hue. Even the green Third line near Mann's hairline had faded to a lime color, indicating it too had been earned some time ago. Tyr could not tear his eyes away as he scanned Mann's record of education. There was a bright blue Fourth line arcing proudly high over the bridge of Mann's nose, just between the eye ridges, and a sharp rod of gold over Mann's right eye. Tyr had only seen a Fifth on station on one other person--the Regional Governor-General--whom he had met upon his arrival years ago. And there was something else: a subtle, thin white line that ran perpendicular to the rest down Mann's right temple. Tyr had never seen that before, but he knew what it had to be: the Sixth degree mark of Evaluation--bade of the elite Educative class. Tyr's gaze slid down Mann's face to find the Educator staring back at him. The young liaison officer coughed in embarrassment, whirled, and started to march back to the buildings of the squat barracks, never checking to see if Mann was following or not. *** Mann gawked at the stark contrasts between the native architecture and the imposing Terran buildings. The fragile, cream-colored Mnemosynean buildings he had flown over, as beautiful and as purposeless as sand castles, stood in mute subservience to the functional Terran prefab barracks and housing units, their squat grayness aggressively bland and artless. It was as if the Terrans had purposely removed any architectural design that wasn't immediately practical while the Mnemosyneans had little use for practicality in their buildings. Then there was this Tyr Yllen who had come to meet him at the landing field. The cap he wore did not quite hide his forehead--Mann had grown accustomed to scanning the education records of all he met, and he saw immediately that Yllen did not have even a baseline First degree mark. Mann had read about such people, but in his short tenure on Earth, he had never run across one. "The Unrecognized," Mann had called such people in a paper he had done one semester. Typically, those people existed off the largesse of the government, unable or unwilling to work in any but the most brutal and degrading of jobs--jobs that robot labor should rightfully do. Yet, here was this Yllen fellow--an officer in the Terran military. It would certainly be useful to get to know this young man if Mann harbored any hopes of getting off this frontier world and back to Earth where he could do some real good. Yes, maybe this Tyr Yllen would prove to be Mann's path back to academic acceptance. Mann studied the officer's broad back. Yllen was easily two meters tall, and filled out his uniform impressively. Even among the near-physical perfection of the military, Yllen was remarkable. Mann sighed as he turned his thoughts to his assignment. With the hostilities over, military personnel had been sending for their families to come live with them on the conquered planet. Families meant children, and children meant school. Mann knew his charge, though he doubted anyone else was aware of the massive difficulties he faced. This would not be some carefully ordered group of students, all tracked neatly together in ability and temperament: no, this was to be an eclectic hodge-podge of ages, intelligences, and traits that he alone was expected to teach. No, he corrected himself, not teach: Educate. There was a world of difference. Training could be done by any competent adult with skills or knowledge--it required only time and the will of the student. The children were trained, and were no doubt enjoying a break from studies as their parents waited eagerly for him, the miracle worker, to transform their children into geniuses, or at least, potential geniuses. Everyone is above average, Mann thought bitterly. He snapped himself out of his reverie as Yllen reached the outer door of a large gray building. The young officer bent down a little to present his face to the door for recognition. "We'll key all the doors to you once we get done with your processing," Yllen growled, not bothering to turn around. The door slid open, and the two men went inside. The inside lay in stark contrast to the outside. Harsh, aggressive light shone from lumen panels and seemed to cast no shadows. Mann could see his own twisted reflection in the gleaming hallway floor. Yllen strode purposefully down the corridor, his heels clack-clacking on the polished surface. Mann couldn't tell which was colder: the Terran architecture or Yllen's manner. Mann kept up as Yllen strode down the hallway, occasionally twisting his bulky body sideways to allow a fellow officer to pass by but otherwise never slackening his pace. Mann caught glimpses through half-open doorways of smartly uniformed men and women engaged in what appeared to be routine clerical tasks. No doubt more sensitive activities were being conducted in a more secure area. Mann had no illusions as to the true purpose of this facility and the hundreds of similar ones scattered around the planet: the Terrans were the new masters of this world; the native population had to be kept in check. But that aspect of the Terran military was not on display here, only the day-to-day drudgery that seemed to attach itself to any complex human undertaking. And so it continued--Mann followed silently behind the hulking officer, occasionally passing another person in the hallway. Mann did not try to extend greetings, thinking mistakenly that all the personnel at the barracks shared Yllen's attitude toward him. All those he passed were physically sound men and women--strong, healthy-looking specimens of humanity. They were, of course, all roughly the same shade of brown. Mann saw none his own lighter, tan color, and certainly saw none of Yllen's dark complexion. This was not in itself uncommon--Mann had always stood apart just a little because of his fair complexion (though he knew that even one hundred years ago he would have seemed normal to certain segments of the population) and he suspected that Yllen did as well. There were others as fair as Mann on Earth, but they were rare--there were others as dark as Yllen, but Mann had never met anyone. It was not a cause of great or even slight concern to anyone--but Mann noticed it and felt a slight kinship to the silent officer, even if that kinship was not, for the moment, being reciprocated. It occurred to Mann that since his arrival on this planet he had never seen anyone carrying a weapon--all of those whom he had passed in the corridor or seen in rooms as he walked by were unarmed. They seemed more like clerks than soldiers--only their physical stature revealed their true vocations. "Here's your room," Yllen said, abruptly stopping before a nondescript door. He opened it with a touch and stepped back wordlessly. Mann peered inside. It was small and spartan, but it would serve his purposes. He noticed a faint rectangular discoloration on the door as he squeezed past Yllen's bulk to enter. His eye lingered on it, and he turned quizzically to Yllen. "We'll get your name up there soon," Yllen snapped. Mann did not need to use his Educator training to see the man was anxious to discharge his final duty and leave. Mann placed his luggage on the narrow cot and turned back to Yllen. "If you wouldn't mind, Officer, I would like to see the rest of the facility. May I arrange for a tour?" "Argus will tell you anything you need to know. You can take a vee through the computer," Yllen said, pointing vaguely in the direction of the dark computer workstation in Mann's room. Mann glanced at the station, then looked back at Yllen with a slight smile. "I'd rather have a live tour guide. I'm not terribly adept at computer relations," Mann lied. Yllen's eyes bored into Mann's. The Educator could almost feel enmity radiating out of them: had he somehow insulted this young soldier? Had Yllen had interpreted his good humor for condescension? Before he could speak to try and smooth things over, Yllen cleared his throat. "I have things to do," Yllen said slowly and deliberately, poorly masking his real message, "so I can't. I'll get someone else," he said, and turned to go. "Officer," Mann said. Yllen turned again, slowly, to face the educator once again, his dark face a tight mask. Mann cocked his head slightly and asked softly, "What do you want from me?" Yllen narrowed his eyes. "What?" "You heard the question," Mann said even more softly. "I don't want anything," Yllen said angrily, his jaw rigid. Mann looked pointedly at Yllen's forehead, saying nothing. Yllen's face started to flush. The moment stretched on, neither man speaking, while the tension grew until Yllen could no longer contain himself. "What is it?" Yllen demanded. His shame and rage had evidently built to a boiling point. Mann's gaze held him paralyzed, like some ancient basilisk's. "You know what you want," Mann said softly, taking his eyes from Yllen's partially concealed forehead. For a fraction of a moment, Yllen looked uncertain, hope riding in his eyes. Then the indecision was gone as quickly as it came. The hope in his eyes was exiled to be replaced by despair and rage. "I don't want anything. Except to get out of here," Yllen spat. "Don't ask me for anything. If you want something, ask Argus or someone else. If I see you in the hall and you try to talk to me, I'll..." Mann nodded gently. "I understand. My door is open, Tyr Yllen," he said, then turned to his luggage. He did not need to look to see that Yllen stood meekly for a moment before slinking out, defeated. Mann fussed with his clothes for a few moments after Yllen had left, then looked thoughtfully at the gray rectangle of the door. An unusual man, this Yllen. Mann felt the first twinges of excitement at the prospect of a difficult assignment. It did not matter that Yllen was far outside his ordinary responsibility; indeed, that fact added to the allure of the man. He was angry, resentful, and would no doubt be resistant. In addition, he was obviously as deficient in basic Education as anyone Mann had ever seen. All of these facts together made Yllen the perfect subject. Mann was an idealist, but he was not totally ignorant of his own motives--no truly great educator could ignore their own desires in their art. There would be something gratifying, even perversely vengeful, in Educating Tyr Yllen. Those on Earth who had sent Mann here would react--he would be a name in Education circles. He knew this formed part of his desire to Educate Yllen. But overriding all was the basic, inherent drive to make someone else better than they were, to mold them and make them more. Again, there was an ego-building aspect to this. Mann had long ago understood the godlike powers his kind possessed and knew the dangers he must avoid. He wielded great power to shape and control--he must use it for the benefit of his pupils. Any benefit he reaped for himself must be secondary. It was foolish in the extreme to think he could be completely altruistic--he was no saint. But he was a good man, and he knew it. Therefore, he was a great Educator. But no one else knew that. That was what Yllen would be for. Mann would be doing the man a good turn, to be sure: he would Educate him. But more important, Yllen would serve as the test subject for Mann's triumphant return to Education circles on Earth. Feeling more satisfied than he had felt since arriving on the planet, Mann started to unpack.

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