Free Mosaic by Jeri Taylor Page B

would
    ever need to know how to cook?
    She could have concentrated on mathematics instead. She and
    her six teammates stepped off the pad; the uniformed,
    female cadet barely inclined her head toward them. Students
    from The Meadows were considered somewhat odd, generally
    undisciplined, and most definitely inferior. Kathryn made
    an inner decision to return to the transport site
    victorious, and make sure the condescending cadet knew it.
    The seven team members carried their tennis bags toward
    the Institute's beautifully landscaped courts. The school
    was an immaculately groomed facility, with rich green lawns
    and precisely planted shrubbery surrounding low, sleek
    classrooms. Kathryn always felt ambivalent about being on
    the grounds; on the one hand she loved the ordered neatness
    of the place and felt comfortable thereas though she
    belonged-but this was offset by resentment that she wasn't
    a permanent student there, and had to endure the cluttered
    atmosphere of The Meadows, whose sprawling grounds lacked
    both symmetry and organization.
    Heat waves rose from the ground, and billowing white
    clouds hung heavily in the sky.
    The air was damp and close; it would rain before nightfall.
    These weren't optimum conditions for playing a grueling
    tennis match, and Kathryn had no doubt that today's would
    be grueling.
    She had played her rival before. Her name was Shalarik, a
    Vulcan exchange student whose imperturbable demeanor on the
    court was unsettling.
    But she was attackable, and if she was broken early, her
    tightly controlled emotions became an obstacle, because
    she was unable to use her feelings to generate momentum.
    Kathryn's advantages lay in her head. She could analyze an
    opponent's game with mathematical precision, then devise
    countermeasures to thwart and frustrate the adversary on
    the other side of the net. That tactical capacity was what
    had made tennis tolerable, and gradually turned it into a
    challenge that she had determined to conquer. Her backhand
    was the first stroke to solidify, and it became a
    formidable weapon. She loved the feel of it, the coiling of
    her body, knees bent deeply, the drive forward as she
    uncoiled and whacked the stuffing out of the ball. It gave
    her an intoxicating sense of power. Two years later, she
    was captain of the team.
    Strategy was key today. If she could keep pressure on
    Shalarik, hitting deep to the baseline, punishing her with
    the powerful backhand, trying to force a short ball so she
    could come to the net, she could win. And at least she
    would greet Daddy tonight with a victory to report.
    Four hours later she was crawling through a muddy field,
    sobbing uncontrollably, soaked to the skin from a pounding
    thunderstorm. Wind whipped at her, driving stinging rain
    into her face, and her throat ached from the harsh sobs
    that racked her.
    It had been humiliating.
    From the beginning of her match, nothing had gone right.
    She was unfocused and erratic. Her stamina was low
    (probably as a result of her two-mile run through the herb
    fields) and she tired early.
    Shalarik's controlled, precise shots were unerring: she
    kept Kathryn off balance all afternoon. No strategy Kathryn
    tried was successful, and the Vulcan broke her serve
    immediately and then just kept winning.
    Kathryn won only one game in the entire match, which ended
    6-1, 6-0. Her loss allowed the Institute team to win the
    match and the season. She had let everybody down.
    Her teammates had tried to console her, but she was beyond
    solace. She refused to go to the transport sitewalk by that
    snotty cadet?-and instead struck out, walking, determined
    to hike the entire twenty miles back to school, punishing
    herself for this intolerable defeat. The storm burst only
    minutes after she started out. There had been a quickening
    of the breeze, a sudden drop in temperature, and then the
    first crack of thunder followed only seconds later by
    lightning. So close so quickly! The noise was unnerving,
    and