Pathways - Jeri Taylor [19]
She regarded him evenly. “Then why are you so contrary?”
He blinked. “Did you use that word on purpose?”
“What word?”
“Contrary.”
“It’s just how you strike me.”
“That’s a term in our tribe. I’ve always been called a ‘contrary.’”
“Because you always swim against the current?”
“Something like that. My father says it started when I was born feet-first.”
She smiled, but there was no condescension in it. It was tender, and its sweetness melted him. “Starfleet will be very good for you, Chakotay,” she said softly. “But you have to allow it to reach you.”
She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the mouth, then gathered her padds and was gone. He stared after her, tasting her lips on his, wondering when he’d see her again and what she’d meant by her last statement.
When Chakotay was given his class assignments, he was relieved to see that Nimembeh had given him high marks for his prep squad experience, but distressed that several bad reports from his dorm officer had resulted in his being denied entry to the pre-command class. He appealed to his faculty advisor, but was told he’d have to clear the bad reports from his record before being allowed to take pre-command. The only way to do that was to avoid being put on report for the rest of the semester. Chakotay seethed inwardly, knowing there would be no recourse.
Negative thoughts and disagreeable feelings enveloped him, and he decided to go back to his room, where at least he could be alone and possibly shed this annoying mood. The dormitory was deserted, as he’d hoped it would be, with most students going through the process of getting their class assignments. The halls were blessedly quiet and Chakotay looked forward to the haven of his quarters. He entered the security code into the panel beside his door and entered as it slid open.
A blue-skinned creature was standing in his room.
They stood facing each other in a moment of mutual surprise. Chakotay noted that the young man was hairless, his skull covered in the same blue skin as the rest of him. A line of demarcation ran down the middle of his face from the top of the skull to his neck. He was rounded, if not plump, and he stared at Chakotay with eyes that were small and bright.
“You must be my roommate,” the blue person said with what Chakotay thought was excessive enthusiasm. “I’m Chert. Are you human? I’m Bolian.”
Chakotay felt his spirits sink. His good fortune was over; they’d assigned him a roommate. He took a breath and tried to appear more welcoming than he really felt. “Yes, I’m human. My name is Chakotay.”
“Chert and Chakotay—alliterative names, I like that.” Chert burst into a shrill giggle, which sounded like a horse neighing in pain. Chakotay’s nerve endings felt as though they’d been rasped. “I was transferred from Fillmore Quad because some upperclassmen were assigned single rooms. Oh, well, I was getting lonely by myself. It’ll be much nicer having a roommate. What are your interests? I hope you’re a chess player, I think I could tolerate anything in a roommate except one who doesn’t play chess. And what about music? Do you know Bolian music? It’s an acquired taste, I’m told, but once your ear accustoms itself to the dissonances, you’ll be bored with anything else. You wouldn’t happen to have any snacks, would you? Moving over here has famished me.”
Chakotay groaned inwardly. How could he bear this prattling fool? He wouldn’t have an instant of peace, not a moment’s quiet with this garrulous blue man. He would have to draw the lines from the beginning. “I don’t have any snacks and I don’t play chess and I’m not fond of music at all. So it appears we have nothing in common. If you’d like to petition for another roommate, I won’t protest. We’d both be better off.”
It was a harsh statement, and Chakotay felt