Shadow World by A. C. Crispin, Jannean Elliot Read Free Book Online

mug toward him, again
    indicating a seat for him to take. The doctor's mind was racing. Let me find the right words to say. This one is truly gifted, if only he knew it ... losing him would be a tragedy ...
    Mark's mask of control was firmly in place, but Rob was too experienced to miss the anguish hiding behind the hazel eyes. If he didn't want to stay in his heart of hearts, it wouldn't hurt him to leave. I've got to try ...
    "C'mon," he urged. "Just sit down and have a cup of coffee. I don't have anything scheduled ..."
    "No, thanks," Mark said, politely but firmly. "I really need to be going."
    But still he hesitated. Encouraged, Rob took a deep breath. "I know how much you love people," he began, feeling his way, "and I mean people, whether they have wings or claws or two legs or ten. You're good with people. Not everyone is. I hate like hell to see the CLS lose out on a talent like yours. We need you, Mark."
    The younger man stayed stubbornly silent, but his face flushed, and the steady gaze of his eyes faltered for just a second.
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    Hmmm ... Rob ran his last words back through memory. Talent. That's the word that made him squirm. He tested his observation.
    "I know your classes haven't been going well, but that's only natural after ..."
    Mark shook his head. "I'm going to catch up on my assignments before I go.
    My grade average hasn't slipped that far. If you'll recommend me to a good university on Earth, I can channel the credits I've earned here into a decent major there. I'll probably only need a year or so more, even with changing over, since our programs here are accelerated."
    Okay. He's not running from the work and the drop in grades. But still ...
    something about the word "talent" got to him ... and people; I was talking about people ...
    Rob thought back over his counseling sessions with Mark, not only those since his mother's death but those from over a year ago, and suddenly he knew the answer.
    "You've decided it's three strikes and you're out, haven't you?" He hoped Mark knew the old baseball idiom. "You've added up your freshman mistake with the Mizari shrizzs, your guilt about Jon Whittaker's suicide last year, and, now, new guilt feelings about your mother's death. You've decided you don't have what it takes, the perception and the insight necessary to be an interrelator." He paused for effect. "You're worried that if you took a diplomatic post, somebody else might get hurt because you made a
    mistake."
    The look of astonishment that filled Mark's hazel eyes before he blinked and glanced down was eloquent. Eureka! Rob thought.
    "You don't have to look so surprised," the doctor said dryly. "Psychology is my job, you know. We've talked about each one of those incidents before, but let's look at what they mean together."
    Mark opened his mouth to protest.
    "That's what you've been doing, isn't it? Adding it up?" At the reluctant nod, he said, "Well, then, give me a shot at it. But first, open that door and ask Cara to come in."
    "Mark and I are going to be a while," Rob said without preamble when Cara appeared. "Can we reschedule for another time?"
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    She darted one quick look, half curiosity, half sympathy, Mark's way, but observing his averted face, her expression smoothed into noncommittal professionalism.
    "That's fine, Dr. Rob. There's a low-grav gliding contest in the Arena that I would have hated to miss anyway. It'll be great footage."
    With that settled and the door once again closed, Rob took a long swig of coffee. Bast leaped lightly into his lap and began to purr. Petting her absently, the doctor sat back in his chair, outwardly relaxed, silently waiting.
    Mark sighed and sat down.
    Nearly two hours later, with Mark just gone, Rob checked the conference room to see if Cara had returned yet. There was a folded note with his name on it on the table.
    "I'll call you late this afternoon to see when we can interview," it said. "Good luck with Mark. I'm sure that whatever's bothering him, you