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that she is capable of learning," the alien said, still sulky, but he was definitely beginning to relent; his flaring crest of mane relaxed. She felt a rush of relief.
    "I promise that I will explain her error to her, and help her learn from her mistake," Hing said firmly. "In the future I am certain she will be more careful.
    May I have the honor of assisting you in restoring your appearance?"
    After another long moment, the Simiu raised a conciliatory hand. "You have acted with honor, Honored HingOun. Consider the matter ended." Then slowly, respectfully, he made the greeting gesture to Hing. "I am Khuharkk'. I would be pleased to have you aid me with my grooming."
    Hing turned and nodded reassuringly at Heather, who was still cowering behind her. "Stay here," she whispered. "It's okay now."
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    With Khuharkk' striding beside her, Hing turned and headed for the rest room. As she did so, she saw Serge, who was on the edge of the circle of onlookers. Catching her eye, he gave her an admiring smile and a quick thumbs-up.
    "We'll be back in a minute," Hing said softly to him as they passed.
    "We will wait," he promised.
    Serge stood staring after Hing and the Simiu as they made their way through the crowd. Ruefully he shook his head. She communicates so well, he thought enviously. I will never develop that rapport with aliens. .. or humans either, for that matter. ..
    It was more than the fact that Hing was majoring in the Simiu language. She had an undeniable knack with people-- and it didn't matter whether those people were covered with flesh, fur, or scales. As he watched her turn the corner and disappear, feelings he'd thought dead for months welled up all over again, just as painfully as they ever had.
    Serge swallowed, fighting down a surge of longing, experiencing again the hurt anger and terrible loneliness that had filled him that last night, when she'd packed her things and walked out of the suite they'd shared for six months.
    The sound of a muffled sob made him turn. Heather Farley was standing in the midst of the muttering crowd, ice cream dripping down the front of her coverall. Angrily, she swiped at her tears with the back of her hand, leaving chocolate trails. Serge moved closer to her, unobtrusively waving the human students away. He whiffed an acrid, familiar odor as he reached her, and it was then that he noticed the dark stain between the legs of the girl's coverall and realized what had happened. Pauvrette, he thought, feeling a wave of pity.
    Schooling his features, he gave no indication that he'd noticed her accident as he bent down to speak to her quietly. "Hello, you must be Heather Farley.
    I am Serge LaRoche. Are you okay?"
    She shifted uncomfortably, legs pressed tightly together, blushing furiously.
    "Yeah, I guess ..." she whispered. "But I--I've got this damned ice cream all over me ..."
    "Please, do not worry," Serge reassured her and, gently putting a hand on her shoulder, turned her toward the opposite side of the lounge from the direction Hing and the affronted Simiu had taken. He pointed. "There is a lavatory there, and you will also find a clothing servo inside. You go wash up. I will wait for you here. Okay?"
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    She nodded, not looking at him, and went.
    Serge stood gazing after her, wondering why the devil the StarBridge Admissions Committee had decided to accept a child so young. Someone touched his arm, and he turned to find Janet Rodriguez. "Heard you had some excitement," she said dryly.
    Nodding, he gave her a quick summary of what had happened. By the time he'd finished, Hing and Khuharkk' were heading toward them from the other rest room. "I have an idea," Serge said as they watched them make their way through the restless crowd of waiting students. "You and Hing accompany the group down to the King while I wait for Heather. On the ride back, you, Hing, and Khuharkk' ride in the passenger compartment. I will pilot, and keep Heather with me. That way we'll avert the chance of any