Free Medusa: A Tiger by the Tail by Jack L. Chalker

otherwise.”
    Again the nod and the scribble. “I think we have enough for now—Tarin, isn’t it? You may go. Tomorrow someone will be in to talk to you, and then we’ll know where you’re going.”
    For now that sounded fair enough. I left.
    I hadn’t really had any problems with that battery they threw at me earlier. I had seen such tests before and understood exactly how they were weighted and scored. I had skewed my aptitudes upward in certain specific areas, like electronics and mechanics, as well as computers, while keeping the Tarin Bul background as consistent with what would be expected of my breeding and training. I could see and understand their problem with me, though. The fact was, I was too old to fit directly into their fixed planetary training system and too young to go to work properly. The best I could do was present myself as some sort of smart-ass genius and hope for the best.
    On the fourth day my skin turned an orange-brown, as did that of four of the others. In a sense the change excited me, since I knew now for the first time that something major really was happening inside me; but it gave me a chilling feeling as well.
    Gorn and Sugra were obviously pleased by the development, and the morning was spent with the five of us undergoing a few physical tests. The first one was simple and basic. I was dressed only in the flimsy hospital gown, when they took me out into that cold corridor and down to the first level of the building. For a while I thought they were pulling some kind of fast one—I felt a chill when the door opened and we stepped out, but the chill was rapidly replaced with a feeling of growing warmth and comfort, until I felt perfectly normal once again.
    I was not normal, though, which I realized just by looking at the backs of my hands. The burnt orange quickly faded out, replaced by a more neutral grayish coloration. And yet, I felt normal—felt just fine, thank you, and as human as ever.
    The first level was now staffed with a receptionist and a few people moved in and out; but the place was by no means crowded. We were the object of a few stares, but little else.
    Satisfied that we felt all right, Gorn led the five of us outside into the street. Again there was that slightly chilling feeling, followed by a comforting warmth, and that was that. I felt warm as toast and perfectly comfortable despite the fact I was barefoot and wearing nothing more than a glorified bedsheet. In a sense, the test was reassuring, since some of the fear of the unknown and uncontrollable vanished with the realization that I really didn’t feel unusual or extraordinary or different.
    Satisfied with our progress, they led us back to our quarters. When I entered, I felt a really strong blast of heat, which faded as quickly as had the chill, leaving me feeling pretty much as I had in the street outside. Now at least I felt like a Medusan. I still wished they would tell us everything about this Warden transformation—I was quite sure they were withholding a lot of information on the theory that what you didn’t know you couldn’t use—but there was no way to approach the problem directly. I’d have to wait and learn in the streets, or by accident, dammit.
    That afternoon those of us who had “acclimated”—as they called it—were summoned, one by one, into the small office. When my turn came I walked in, expecting another psych, but found instead a man I’d never seen before.
    “Tarin Bul? I am Staff Supervisor Trin of the Transport Workers Guild. I’m told you have ambitions to be a pilot.”
    My emotions soared. “Yes, sir!”
    “Well, that’s possible. Your literacy level is off the scale, your mathematical level nearly that, and you have a command of computer theory far beyond any expectations. But your education is still not really advanced, and you’ll need some more height and a couple of years of age before we can enroll you in pilot’s school, if we do. However, you have been