The O'goali man's smile widened and he showed some teeth. "Just checking. You're all academic?"
"Many
subjects come under academics." E'bett held out her left arm and twisted
it slightly, so her long sleeve fell back, revealing her tool wristband.
It
had a small screen that let her communicate with the station and the ship. On past
expeditions, she had used the wristband to give the children impromptu tests on
the things they saw, the people they encountered, the places they went when
they were on planets or space stations. Tress was especially looking forward to
seeing a museum in the lower levels of the Fleet part of the station, just
because her father was so interested in seeing it. He said it was full of
examples of the damage people could do when they jettisoned their common sense
and forgot to ask Enlo to protect them from their own stupidity.
"I'm
not looking for a gusquacca teacher," the man said, and spat.
Tress
flinched. She had never heard that word before, but her mother said she had
good instincts for what foreign words meant. That had to be a bad word, and the
man had insulted E'bett.
"Fleet
people are idiots, sending a useless, fat old woman out with a bunch of
helpless little girls," the man said.
Tress
shook her head. She couldn't understand how the man had said that without
moving his lips. His grin just got brighter, and his voice had that echo for a
few seconds.
"Serve them right," that angry voice from the far side of the open area said. "Hope that brute teaches them a good lesson. Children don't belong out in space. They sure don't belong on military ships."
"Mestra," Tress began, and reached up to tug on the back of E'bett's long vest.
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