Ravagin frowned. "A single student? One?"

"That's what it says."

"What the hell do they think we're running here, a personal guided tour service?"

Lea shrugged. "I don't know any more than I've just given you... except that there are distinct hints that pressure is going to be brought to bear on your neck if you don't agree to take her in."

"Whoa—freeze that frame, huh? What does this have to do with me? I'm leaving, remember?"

"Maybe, maybe not." Lea took a deep breath. "It isn't like we can pretend someone else is more experienced than you are—it's an on-record fact we can't hide. The higher-ups have already made it clear they want you to stay on for this one last trip. If you don't... it's entirely possible your leave of absence might not be approved."

"Well, I'm sure that's a triumph for some branch of human stupidity," Ravagin snorted. "I presume you offered my last med/psych test results for their reading enjoyment?"

"And I told them you were suffering the entire Courier burnout syndrome," she sighed. "None of it did a scrap of good. Most experienced is what they want, most experienced is what they're determined to get."

"All right, then. If that's how they want to play I'll quit outright. Then I'm out of their grasp entirely."

"Yeah. Well..." Lea looked acutely uncomfortable. "I would presume, though, that you're not ready to retire at the ripe old age of thirty-eight."

Ravagin felt his eyes narrow. "Are you suggesting," he said slowly, "that they might blackmark my records if I refuse to roll over for them?"

Lea spread her hands. "I don't know what they've got in mind upstairs—God's truth. All I know is that I haven't seen everyone this nervous since the Proloc of Vandahl ignored all the warnings and horror stories and demanded we take his children into Shamsheer to ride the flying carpets."

Ravagin felt a shiver run up his spine. "Just who the hell is this grad student, anyway—the Presidio's daughter?"