Ker watched the screen with a tightening stomach. "CANCELLED" flashed next to the last three flights off Rishe. All week, the final flights of the summer had been called off because of the storms' early return. Now Ker was on the last flight out. Around him people were swearing and rushing off to try to change their tickets and book any empty places on the last flight. A little girl started crying. Ker looked over as her mother picked her up and stroked her hair, tears glistening on her own face.

"It's ok, honey," her mother murmured just loud enough for Ker to hear. "We get to see Daddy longer, it's ok."

He looked away. Her father must be stationed on Rishe for the usual two terms. They'd come to visit during the travel window. The little girl couldn't have seen her father for three years, but that was the best way. Rishe was no place for a child to grow up.

Eight other visiting university students were clustered around a group of gray plastic seats, a few of them playing poker. No one looked up as Ker took his place with them, leaning against the sterile white wall. He ignored their game. Instead, he watched the mother and daughter from his position slightly hidden behind the other students. It must be a difficult place to be in, he thought, looking at the mother. On the one hand, she would be able to stay with her husband. On the other, she and her daughter wouldn't get to play in the sun for three years.

Constant rain drizzled and drove, storming through the skies of Rishe. There were about two weeks-give or take-every summer when the storms paused. Flights could only go out during the summer break in the storms. But no space craft could get off the planet and head straight for the Colonies. There was always a stop on Cargad to refu-el. But Cargad was only at the right end of its orbit for the stopover once every three years. So between those summers every three years, no one got on or off of Rishe.

Ker's sister Sina hadn't liked the prospect. "You'll be stuck there for three years," she said. "You hate rainy days here-how do you think you're going to survive?"

Sina had a point. The orchards on Ceres-the farm colony-were Ker's favorite place to read. As often as he could, he'd take the twenty minute tram ride to Mac and sit with his notebook under the trees, scrolling through books, oblivious to the world. Outside of his class schedule, the weather was the only thing that kept him from going there every day.

"I'll be studying," he'd replied. "I'll have classes all the time, and other students to talk to."

"You won't talk to them," Sina had said, her hand on her hip as she leaned against the doorframe. "You don't talk to anyone until you know them well, and you'll think they're too stupid to get to know. You think differently than everyone else. Just like me."

"Either way," Ker said, "I have to go. It's required for all Poli-Negs to do a term at the tactical school."

"But why?"

"Understanding their tactics will make it easier to negotiate," Ker said. "You understand what they're going to do and how to work things to the advantage of both sides."

"But why Rishe?"

One of the group in the astroport looked up. Carli, a dark-skinned girl with deep mahogany eyes and a wide smile, made her way through the crowd of students to lean against the wall with Ker. "Can't wait to get out of this place, huh?" She grinned. "Grass and trees will be heaven after this. You going straight home?"

Ker nodded.

"Me too. Some of them are going to League Central to put in their applications immediately, but I don't think I could handle any sidetracks."

He didn't say anything in response for a moment, but he knew she didn't expect him to. He decided to surprise her. "You lasted longer than most of us."

"What do you mean?"

"I was homesick from the start. Nobody lasted longer than a year before cursing the place."

"And you think I did?"

"I didn't hear you say anything against it for two years."

Carli laughed. "That's because I knew I'd have to make it all three. I had to lie to myself, pretend I liked it, or at least didn't mind it."

Ker smiled a little. No amount of lying to himself could have convinced him that he liked the underground tactical school. It was built into the ground rock and made mostly of metal and plastics because the caustic rain on Rishe ate away at concrete. The corridors were coated in colored plastics in an attempt to ward off the gloom. There were no windows, but no one wanted to look out at the rain.

The passages from their living quarters to the classrooms wound and zigzagged through the tactical school. Ker always found that the deeper he went, the stronger the stink of mold became. The same purified and enhanced air circulated through the entire complex, but even the airborne bacteria engineered to eat the mold made minor progress on the lower levels.

Two girls walked in front of him on the way to watch the scheduled film. It was a history of the settlement on Rishe. Ker had read about it before he came, but he wondered how much of what he'd read was propaganda. He kicked at a black patch of mildew low on the sunflower yellow plastic.

"I've been hearing about Rishe for years," one of the girls said. It was Carli. Ker had only seen her once or twice, but she was easy to recognize. "My mother's a history professor at the University of Sheba back on Ethiope. Colonization is her specialty."

As Ker followed the girls inside, someone pushed past him, shoving him into the doorframe. Randall didn't turn to look back at Ker as he staked claim to the free chair in the second row, right beside Carli. Ker walked past silently, taking his seat in the back row. From there he could see Randall leaning toward Carli, trying to get her full attention. She acknowledged him with a smile, but she turned her attention to the screen as the video started up.

Eerie clouds billowed across the dark sky. Rain began to pour, plinking and ringing against the camera's metal shell. This was the coming of the year-long monsoons. It was a view of the outside of Rishe, which none of the visiting students would ever see in person.

The narration began, describing the planet's settlement. "Rishe was discovered at the same time as Cargad, but the Cargad Embassy settled there first. Within two years, explorers began sending probes to Rishe." Just before the Last Earthbased War, the Cargad Embassy and the League of Colonies started the secret tactical school. They figured that if no one from the Earth System could get to the planet without going through Cargad, no one would be able to destroy it. And they were right. Earthbase Tactical was obliterated, and Rishe was the last tactical school in operation.

"Haven't they been building a new one on Halron?" a girl next to Ker asked.

"Yeah," whispered the guy on her other side when Ker didn't respond, "but with the divisions still between the League and the ES, there's no way they'll neglect Rishe."

Five years later and I could have been on Hairon, Ker told himself. Haron was closer to Ceres and free of the monsoons. And if he were on Haron, he wouldn't have to see Randall's silhouette attempting to distract Carli. But he knew that soon the League would need the best Poli-Negs they could get, and he would be ready. He watched the surging clouds roll across the screen.

None of the visiting students got to choose their roommates. Randall, the son of the Prime Minister of the League of Colonies, was first into the room he and Ker shared and laid claim immediately to the bottom bunk.

"You don't mind, do you?" he said. His belongings were already strewn across the bed.

Ker just shrugged.

"My father would never stand for me having to share a room if Rishe weren't so crowded to begin with." Randall sprawled on the bed. "He could make me get my own room even now, you know." So you'd better do things my way to avoid trouble-the unspoken message was clear.

Ker said, "Your father doesn't actually control the military settlements." He turned and put his stuff down by the desk at the foot of the bed.

"That's my desk."

Ker turned slightly to look at him: He didn't reply, just pulled out the chair and sat down.

"Did you hear me? That desk is mine."

"Your stuff isn't here."

"So?"

The computer monitor folded out of the top of the desk. Ker booted up and logged on to his message system.

Randall lay on his bed and complained constantly for the first two weeks about the stuffy mold-stinking halls of the tactical school. It didn't help that they were both sick in bed for nearly that whole time. Between the moist, stale air, the mold, and the airborne mold-eating bacteria, all of the new students suffered allergy-like symptoms and acute nausea.

"Everyone who comes to Rishe experiences something like it, unless they only stay during the travel window, when things air out," the school doctor explained. "It will pass in a couple of weeks. In the meantime, get sleep and drink a lot of water. I can't give you anything to fight it; your bodies just have to get used to it."

During the second week, as the nausea began to fade, classes picked up. All Ker's free time was still spent in bed, sleeping off the exhaustion. Now that he was more conscious of his surroundings, Randall began to make discoveries and share them with Ker.

"Did you get a look at Carli?"

Ker rolled over to face the wall and covered his ears with the pillow. He knew where this conversation would go. He stilled his mind to sleep.

Randall only talked about Carli more when they discovered that they could get alcohol, even on Rishe—though it was expensive and hard to come by—and began having parties. No one could think of anything else to do on such a dreary planet when they didn't have classes, so they got drunk. Ker didn't go. They stopped inviting him after his first few refusals. Randall took it upon himself to regale his roommate with his exploits. "I was this close to making out with Carli," he said. "She wanted to-she can't wait to get her hands on me-but one of the other guys started trying to electronically tattoo everyone, and she ran out." He didn't even look at Ker as he told the story, staring instead in the mirror as he carefully tousled his hair. "I beat him up after that." Since Ker kept silent with his earpods in and never told Randall to shut up, he didn't.

<he's talking about the party on saturday again> Ker typed to Sina.

<does he ever stop?>

<no>

<kick him>

Sometimes Randall demanded to know why Ker was being so antisocial—"You're not making any friends. You're missing out. You have no life." Ker ignored these outbursts. He knew that to be an influential Political Negotiator he had to have a clean record, and he knew that a history of partying at Tactical would be too easy to dig up.

He'd seemed to be the only student on Rishe who felt that way. There were other Tactical students and soldiers stationed at the base who didn't party, but Ker never saw them. Sina was his companion most evenings, and Rishe had a surprisingly varied digital library.

One such Saturday night, there was a tentative knock on his door. He opened it and faced Carli. "Hi," she smiled. "I thought you'd be here. Can I come in?" He stepped back and held the door open. She folded herself onto Randall's chair, pulling her feet up under her. Ker closed the door and went back to his chair, turning it to face her. "I'm getting sick of their parties," she said. "They're all the same. But I don't know what to do with myself. I'm from Sheba-I usually go out with friends on weekends." She looked at him, as if expecting him to respond. He didn't. "So I figured I'd come see what you do.

"I read," he said, nodding his head at the page open on the screen. "Or I talk to my sister."

"How old is she?"

"Two years younger, so seventeen."

"My sister's twenty-three. She's been out of the house for years, but I still think sometimes that if I call home she'll be there to pick up, as if she came back when I left." She gave a crooked smile. Ker smiled a little, too, a slight lifting of the corners of his mouth, but Carli saw it and smiled wider. "What are you reading?"

Ker shrugged. “Ray Bradbury.”

She laughed. "I love Ray Bradbury! I didn't know anyone else read the old stuff! Which are you reading?”

“Short Stories—A Medicine for Melancholy.”  

She laughed again. "Fitting isn't it? There's no place more melancholy than Rishe." She looked at the screen for a moment. "It's kind of funny how much the old writers got wrong.”

"It's amazing how much they got right."

Carli didn't stay long that night. She wasn't yet used to Ker's silences. But they met again most weekends to talk about the old science fiction writers. They'd both read a lot of the same authors, but each had others to recommend. Gradually Carli began to interpret Ker's silences, and he began to talk more a little more. Maybe Sina was right; maybe people had to prove themselves intelligent before Ker would try to get to know them. Carli certainly was. She'd read as much and as widely as Ker had.

<which is saying something> Sina said when Ker told her, <you read more than anybody>

Sometimes instead of books they'd talk about poli-negotiation. Carli readily understood the tactical concepts that would help most. She and Ker would have mock debates about the worth of those tactics and their practical identification. One evening after a particularly complicated debate, which included negotiating when spies and assassins are everywhere on either side, Carli leaned back in her chair.

"Why do you want to be a Poli-Neg anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"You clearly hate talking to people," she said, smiling so he knew she wasn't attacking. "Yet you'll have to as a Neg."

Ker smiled. "I don't hate talking." He paused. "I just see how much they'll understand or listen to what I have to say. If it's not much, I don't talk."

Carli laughed. "You can't mean that. I wanted to listen to you, and you know I could have understood you the first time I came by."

"I thought you liked Randall." "Which would automatically make me stupid." She studied him silently for a moment. Then she smiled. "Now, seriously, why do you want to be a Poli-Neg?"

"Maybe it's all the old books. How much history have you read?"

"Ker, my mom's a history professor. I bet I know more than you do."

Ker shrugged. "So you know that we expanded beyond Earth System because the world was getting too crowded and neighbors couldn't stand living next to each other anymore once they had a way out."

"Yes."

"And before that, there was always a war somewhere on Earth."

“Mm-hmm."

"And after we colonized-"

“—the ES wasn't being good to the colonial worlds, so to get their rights, they formed the League."

“Yes. Add to that all of the old dystopian visions and political thrillers—did you ever read any of those?"

"No," Carli frowned. "Should I have?"

"They're not worth it. But it all adds to my point that the universe has always been too full of war and deception."

"And you want to end it."

"I’ll do what I can."

Ker hadn't talked about his future career with anyone else outside his family. Most of the other students were children of current Negotiators or of planetary or interstellar politicians. It was what they did-their parents were in politics or negotiation, and so were they. The same was true for Ker, but it didn't have to be. His books, rather than his father, were his initial inspiration; his father simply provided encouragement and advice. Carli understood that, though she was the odd one in the group. She'd been inspired by debates she heard at the breakfast table.

"The problem with that, though, is what my parents did about it: nothing. They just talked and decided what was wrong, but left it up to everyone else to make the necessary changes."

"So you're fixing their mistakes?"

"Maybe."

They didn't talk about their futures again. Even leaning against the astroport wall, they didn't talk about what they would do after getting home or what that would mean for their lives.

The departure time on the screen was only ten minutes away. Laughing, the other students packed up their cards, slung backpacks over their shoulders and left to join the growing queue by the boarding gate.

Carli watched them go. "Where's Randall?"

Ker looked at the group too. Randall would usually have been right in the middle, trying to be the center of attention.

"Should we go find him?" she asked.

"He'll be here," Ker said. "He's been talking about going home for years."

Carli frowned but didn't argue. She picked up her pack and waited. Ker grabbed his and walked with her to the gate.

"Will you come visit sometime on Ceres?" Ker asked quietly, so that Carli barely heard him. She stopped to stare at him. He glanced down at his feet.

"My sister wants to meet you," he said.

"I'd love to meet her." The shy smile in her voice convinced him to meet her dark eyes.

Before either of them thought to break the silence, a man in a flight attendant's uniform interrupted. "Excuse me. Are you Mr. Quinn's roommate?"

Ker broke his gaze from Carli and nodded.

"Do you know where he is? The flight cannot take off until he's on board."

Ker's stomach spasmed. He shook his head. The attendant left them, and they wandered to the queue.

"He will come," Carli said, a question.

Ker didn't answer. He had nothing to reassure her with. They waited for another fifteen minutes. Twenty. Anxious murmuring and fidgeting buzzed through the queue. Other students and soldiers craned their heads to find nonexistent windows to check on the oncoming storm. Carli bit her lip. Ker stared at the wall, squeezing his ticket chip in one fist.

A door banged open. Everyone jumped, heads turning.

"My father is eager to meet us at the astroport," Randall said cheerily, waving. He made his way to the group of students.

"I had to find my ID chip," he told Carli and anyone else who was listening. He waved the little chip. "Had to completely unpack and repack. And then I called my father. I'd promised to let him know just before we left. And then Mother wanted to tell me how much she's looking forward to seeing me again..." He rolled his eyes at the caprices of mothers, but was grinning widely.

The flight attendant who had stopped Ker strode into the waiting lounge. He came through the boarding gate from the shuttle dock and picked up a microphone from the ticket-check desk.

"Ladies and gentlemen, due to the delay and the early return of the storms, we will be unable to take off today. It is for your own safety to remain on Rishe. Please see Sergeant Wilson in the accommodations office. He will do his best to provide you a place to stay."

Dead silence, then muttering crescendoed to shouting as the announcement sunk in. The attendant strode toward the main body of the astroport. Randall stared for a moment, then dashed after him.

"I have to get home! My father—the PMLC—is waiting for me."

The attendant ignored his demands, ignored his presence. No doubt he'd wanted to go home too. Randall finally trailed off and stood staring after him. The waiting crowd surged past him now, some giving small malicious kicks as they passed, most content to glare. Carli's clenched jaw and fiery eyes made Ker look away. He felt Randall's eyes on him, but he kept his own averted. He pushed on with the rest, through the astroport.

As they entered the tunnel to the school's main compound, Ker remembered the video they'd been shown when they first arrived on Rishe. He saw again the clear gray sky and the first few drops of the monsoon which rang on the camera's shell. He could hear the rain beginning to pound on the metal roof of the tunnel as they walked away from the astroport. The video continued to play in Ker's mind as he stared ahead. Thick black clouds roiled in. The rain came harder.