Notes: Fireball has a problem, but the attempt to fix it leads to yet another problem. It really isn't the racer's month. Or year.

Chapter 9: Octember

April was quite annoyed with her boys so she decided not to visit them on the next weekend. She had a lot to do anyway since that was when they'd decided to move her things into Stephen's house and besides it would be only fair for her to spend some time with Stephen while she was staying with him. She'd cook, she decided. That would repay him for the favour of letting her stay. And then they could discuss the latest developments in engineering over the meal or maybe speculate about as yet undeveloped technologies. No boring discussions of students or politics, or races and shooting competitions.

The conversation topics of her team-mates were just so uninspiring and whenever she did bring up something interesting they just sat and stared at her or went away or started reading the newspaper ...

Well, not Saber. Saber did try to keep the conversation going, but at such an awfully simple level that she didn't feel it was worth it. It was more like giving a simplified lecture, really. Saber simply didn't know enough about the subject to say anything inspiring. Stephen on the other hand ... Ah, Stephen and she made a good team always giving each other ideas and finding solutions for each other's problems.

"You are wasting your time and talent serving as a Star Sheriff," Stephen said suddenly interrupting her thoughts.

"I ... what?" April stuttered taken completely by surprise.

"I don't mean to say that it isn't a worthwhile profession," he continued hastily. "I quite admire your bravery and am well aware of all the honours and influence your father has earned in the army. Of course you look up to him and want to uphold the family tradition, but you can do so much more, April. You aren't just another soldier. You have real talent and skill in engineering."

"Just another soldier?" April repeated incredulously. "The Star Sheriffs aren't 'just' soldiers. We are the protectors of the people of the New Frontier. We uphold the laws and we protect our planets against invasions. Don't you realise that without us there might not be a New Frontier anymore? If the Outriders had won they'd have destroyed everything. You'd be dead or a homeless fugitive now, with no materials or money to work with! We needed every pair of hands we could get to prevent that."

"Of course, of course," he argued. "But the war is over and you are worth so much more to the New Frontier alive. Think of all the new technologies, the new weapons to help protect people, that we could develop together, if only you were free to devote all your time to it. The army is taking up so much of your time and energy doing things that any random cowboy or race car driver can do just as well and there is always a risk of being killed in the course of duty. Why don't you leave that work to people who don't have any more valuable skills to offer and become my assistant instead? Then you'd be free to invest all your time and energy in what you do best. Wouldn't that be a much better contribution to the future of the New Frontier than to lose your life to arrest some random coach-robber?"

"I am using my skills," April pointed out. "I built Ramrod, remember? And my life is not worth any more than that of Saber or Fireball. They have great talents, too, but they also have a duty to protect the New Frontier. They got elite training for it. As did I. Are you asking me to throw that away and never use it again just because the work is dangerous? That would be cowardly, Stephen. I may be a woman, but I am no more afraid to die than any other Star Sheriff!"

But the idea to devote the rest of her life entirely to engineering and never have to do boring patrol duty again was very tempting. If the Outriders really didn't return they had a lot more Star Sheriffs on staff right now than the New Frontier actually needed and Cavalry Command would probably even be glad to get some of them off its pay-roll.

April spent the rest of the day thinking about it, imagining the exciting new projects she and Stephen might work on together. What would it be like to settle down, live in a comfortable house of her own, maybe keep a pet ...

"I'll have to think about it, Stephen," she said that evening after dinner. "It's ... if I leave the Star Sheriffs now and there is another war, I'll probably never forgive myself, but ... I have to think it all over."

Hannah walked straight past Fireball without sparing him a glance as the first year class crossed the parking lot on the way to the gym.

She was walking alone, Fireball noticed, while all the others were walking in pairs or small groups, but she didn't look like she was about to cry. She looked ... somehow older than the little girl he'd first met when she'd arrived at the beginning of the school year. Strong and soldierly, but also cold and forbidding.

Oh well, most likely she was angry at being ignored. That was how it should be after all, show her that she couldn't have things her way by misbehaving and she'd stop.

He had more important things on his mind. Like the fact that his new student wasn't here yet. Unless ...

Fireball walked up to the student who'd been loitering on the other side of the parking lot for several minutes now.

"Cadet Ahmeidi?" he asked sharply.

"Yes, Sir!"

Aha, found him! Now to make sure he knew who the boss was.

"Oh, are you? And just why are you standing around here instead of waiting by the car like a good student?"

"I sorry! I not know where report, Sir! I first time this class."

"Can't you even speak in proper sentences? At least make a little effort if I'm actually kind enough to waste my time teaching you."

"Sorry Sir!" the boy replied not adding anything more.

"Follow me," Fireball barked.

The method was effective. Cadet Ahmeidi didn't give him any cheek or do anything he hadn't been told to all lesson. Unfortunately the boy also turned out to be unusually clumsy, though Fireball had some hope that that would improve with practise. At least the fact that he had to be shown where the gas pedal, break and even the gear shift were indicated that he'd found another student that had never driven a car before.

To make sure Ahmeidi didn't get cocky by his next lesson Fireball made a point of informing him that he was the least promising student he'd ever had and that he'd better try a lot harder next time and then Cadet Ahmeidi took off with his head and shoulders drooping dejectedly.

Oddly ever since he had failed to control Jason Evans' behaviour on his own Saber felt that his relationship with his students had improved. Not only Evans' class but all of them seemed to be paying more attention, though they still thought that his subjects were boring and readily admitted it. He in turn admitted that he didn't exactly find them exciting either, but that they were important and suddenly everybody seemed to accept that. It made for a much better working relationship and all involved were happier in his lessons ... which made him notice more easily when something was wrong.

"Why Cadet Ahmeidi?" he addressed the unusually miserable-looking student that walked into his class that afternoon. "Why the long face? Don't tell me you've forgotten your homework again?"

"No, no!" Hussain assured him quickly. "I have both. See. Here is forgotten homework and here is new homework. I write extra long."

"Well, then I forgive you for forgetting. So no reason to be unhappy anymore," Saber even smiled at the boy, though that took a bit of an effort. He was so used to controlling his features that not doing it was actually more difficult.

"It not about homework, Sir. It nothing to do with your class. I have other problem. Problem that can't fix with making extra long work."

Saber glanced at the class. He had two minutes left before the lesson should officially start and he always worried about the Ahmeidi brothers.

"Want to tell me about it?" he asked. "Maybe I can think of a way to fix it."

But Hussain shook his head. "There no way to fix. Is that I no talent for learn driving. Professor Fireball say I worst student ever. You no can give me talent. I no can make talent. I no can do extra work. I no can write extra talent. I drop class."

That was unfortunate but ...

"Well, it isn't a mandatory subject," Saber said. "If there had to be one you can't master I suppose it is lucky that it isn't something more important."

Hussain nodded sadly. "I just disappointed. And ashamed. Everybody drive."

"True," Saber admitted. "I can't think of any adult I know that doesn't drive, but you know, they didn't all learn it at the Academy. It you go to a private driving school, you can pay for more lessons if you feel you need them. That is probably what other people with your problem do."

Hussain nodded. "Maybe someday."

It didn't really seem to make him feel any better.

"Oh Fireball!" Molly called out to him as he passed her office. "Are you done for the day?"

Indeed he was. He'd only had three students scheduled for the day and had just found out that the last of them was sick. Somehow he seemed to be teaching less and less every week. There were always students who got sick or were too busy with homework for their other classes and decided to postpone learning to drive. And then there were some who simply didn't bother to turn up for their lessons.

Even without that he hadn't had a full schedule since Evans had wrecked the car. Maybe too many students had had to be transferred to the other driving teachers while Fireball had been out of action waiting for the return of his car.

He nodded. "Yes, I would have had one last lesson right now, but it's been cancelled. Anything I can do for you?"

"Not quite," Molly said with a strangely reassuring smile. "The headmaster said he'd like to see you sometime, if it is convenient. And since he just happens to be free as well right now it might be a good idea to get it over with right away."

General WhiteHawke wanted to see him? Whatever for? Fireball had only had a one on one meeting with him once before and that had been the one he'd asked for concerning the wrecked car.

He almost asked Molly what she knew about the matter, but she had that extra casual air about her that she always put on when she didn't want to draw the students' attention and there were three of them waiting to see her about something.

"Of course," he said just as casually therefore. "Should I go right through?"

Molly pressed a button on her desk and said something into a little microphone. Then she nodded at him.

"Yes, go right on in. He's expecting you."

A little nervously Fireball knocked on the headmaster's office door and walked in. General WhiteHawke greeted him politely, but seriously.

"I asked you here because one of your students, Cadet Ahmeidi, has decided to give up driving lessons," he said after they'd sat down.

"The Cadets seem to be doing that a lot," Fireball remarked wondering why the headmaster was telling him that in person.

In the past it had always been Molly who had informed him both of withdrawals and additions of students. He hadn't realised that General WhiteHawke was even informed of the subject choices of individual students.

"To be exact your students seem to be doing that a lot," the headmaster amended. "Your drop-out rate is significantly higher than that of every other teacher in this school."

"Well, most teachers teach mandatory subjects," Fireball pointed out. "While the driving lessons are just an additional offer the students can make use of or not as they wish. I think that it is quite reasonable of them to drop them if they feel they're having trouble keeping up with all their lessons."

"That is of course true, but if the reason for the high number of drop-outs this year were a too high workload in their other classes, then all driving and piloting instructors should be affected equally. They aren't showing any higher drop-out rates than usual, though. That rate, by the way is about one student per year and teacher in Driving and two students a year per piloting instructor. I have therefore asked Cadet Ahmeidi to tell me why he is dropping the subject. What do you think he said?"

Fireball shrugged.

"That he didn't like it?" he ventured a guess. "I only had him twice. Maybe he imagined it would be easier or more fun."

"He said you told him he could never master it," General WhiteHawke said sternly. "He claims he did his best, but it was no use. I find it very hard to believe that a healthy fifteen year old who is performing well in all his other physical classes should be so uncoordinated and clumsy that he cannot learn to drive a car."

"He what?" Fireball gasped. "That's ridiculous. Anyone can learn basic driving. It's not hard. Actual racing is a different matter, mind you, but it's not like Ahmeidi should even be thinking of that when he doesn't even have a driving license yet."

"So how is it possible that after only two lessons Cadet Ahmeidi is convinced he'll never manage to get his license and that it isn't even worth trying?" the headmaster asked.

"I'll talk with him," Fireball promised. "He ... English doesn't appear to be his first language. Maybe it's some sort of misunderstanding."

"Don't bother," the headmaster ordered. "Captain Rider has already convinced him to postpone rather than give up learning to drive entirely. Ahmeidi said he'll complete the Academy first, then take a year or two to get used to his duties and then try to get his license privately. Considering his language problems that might indeed be the better choice for him, but I cannot allow you to discourage our students any further. I know that this is your first teaching job and that it takes a while to figure out the best ways to deal with students and their individual needs, but ... well, there are certain levels of clumsiness that we cannot tolerate in the interest of Cavalry Command and the numbers and quality of Star sheriffs we produce. I hate to have to say this, but I'm afraid that if you cannot reduce your drop-out rate quickly, I think we will have to agree that teaching simply isn't for you."

Colt was happily grading away at the latest bunch of Psychology tests. It was really satisfying to see how well many of his students were progressing. Even Bran Jonasson's answers showed a serious effort, though the more interpretative questions still demonstrated a lack of real understanding of what he had learned. He wasn't the only one that appeared to find those hard, though and Colt strongly suspected that it was due to his students' youth. They had never encountered many of the things he was teaching them about and couldn't properly imagine the situations those questions described.

Jonasson had made an effort and deserved some recognition.

'Still not perfect, but a marked improvement,' Colt scribbled under the C. 'I can see that you studied hard for this. Keep it up and you'll get there eventually.'

He should also talk with the boy, he thought, make it clear that he was pleased.

A sudden banging startled him out of his thoughts, and he looked up. Ah, Fireball was home and had slammed the door.

"Evening," Colt greeted the racer cheerfully. "Something wrong?"

"No nothing. Why do you ask?"

"Now don't you start acting like Saber," Colt advised him. "Or well, not in this respect at least. That's the thing we're trying to train him out of, remember? I can see that you're pissed off, so tell me what's wrong. It'll make you feel better."

"Yeah right, sure it will, Mr. perfect teacher," Fireball snapped. "Is Saber home yet?"

"Yes, but he's tired. Don't go bothering him with it now. At least not until you've tried me."

Fireball glanced longingly at Saber's closed door, but then sat down after all.

"It can wait," he declared.

"Annoying student?" Colt guessed. "They didn't damage your car again, did they?"

"No, nothing of the sort," Fireball said with a sigh. "Actually he was more the opposite type. You know, the one that knows he can't drive and is nervous that he'll break something. Those are ... awfully annoying because they take so long to grow confident in what they've learned, but at least they stop when you tell them to and listen to what you tell them. ... Actually, now that I think about it, he'd probably have been a pleasant enough student to have. He quit, though."

"He quit?" Colt asked. "Now why would he do that?"

Fireball shrugged.

"I suppose that he found that it wasn't as much fun as he'd thought it would be. Or maybe somebody told him to sign up for it because it was so great and then it wasn't. Why else would one quit an elective after the second lesson?"

"Well, that's his choice then," Colt said lightly while trying to work out what was actually going on.

Fireball had only figured out that he'd liked the student right now so ...

"But why are you so angry about it?"

"Oh, I just, well, General WhiteHawk seems to think it's my fault, that I did something to drive him off."

"Well, you aren't exactly one of the most popular teachers going by what I've overheard the students saying," Colt suggested gently. "Maybe he really did get scared off by something someone told him about you."

"So they're talking about me behind my back!"

"Students always talk about their teachers. Especially teenage students," Colt assured him. "It's an integral part of puberty to be as annoying to one's elders as one possibly can be. Don't take it to heart."

But the exclamation had done exactly what Colt had been trying to avoid. Saber came out of his room to see what was going on.

"Who's talking behind your back, Fireball?" Saber asked concernedly.

Surely Fireball couldn't have found out about the things he'd told the psychologist about him? The psychologist had to observe strict rules of professional secrecy.

But then Saber had also mentioned some things to Ian Doe that he regretted now. He had to watch his words more closely!

"The students, those little bastards!" Fireball snapped.

"Really, it's just the usual silly chattering and one-upmanship teenagers like to engage in," Colt said almost pleadingly. "You shouldn't worry about it. They talk about all of us."

That was quite a shock, though Saber thought he really should have known it. He had attended the Academy and even participated in some of the milder gossip himself. Why hadn't he remembered that when he'd spoken with Ian? What if the boy had repeated something ... not even intending to engage in gossip, but trying to help or thinking he wasn't giving anything important away?

"What are they saying Fireball?" he asked hoping he merely sounded concerned about his friend being upset.

"Apparently that I suck as a teacher and should be fired," Fireball fumed.

Saber's lips twitched very much against his will, but at least he managed to hide his relief. He definitely had never said anything like that to anyone.

"Actually," Colt said. "They're saying that Fireball is a nasty old git and enjoys nothing more than to belittle his students and spoil their fun. Let me particularly point out the word old just so you can see how seriously I'm taking this. I bet they're saying exactly the same thing about me, by the way. They're just more careful not to say it where I might hear them."

Saber almost smiled, but managed to keep control of his features.

"Well, what I have heard them say about you, and that was almost always to my face, mind you, is that you're a terrible spoil-sport and no fun, but that one can go to you with one's problems and you always listen. Also you are very patient with incompetent students that do not even deserve it."

Colt snorted. "Who said the last bit, Liu Chang?"

Got it in one, but ...

"I'm sorry, I can't betray my students' confidence. Now, tell me what you've heard about me?"

"That you are a dead bore mostly," Colt reported.

That wasn't surprising considering what he was teaching.

"You also have no sense of humour and are a pushover. That was before they decided you'd expelled Jason Evans, though. And oh yes, you play favourites. Apparently you're particularly fond of Ian Doe and give him better grades and easier questions than everybody else."

"I what?" Saber gasped. "I'd never!"

"Yes, well, apparently half the school favours Ian Doe going by his grades. I must say I quite like the boy myself. He's more mature than the others and very kind and helpful. Most of his classmates seem to like him as well and he appears to like you. He ... Well, he's the one that convinced Jonassen that it might be a good idea to make an effort to learn and that's really beginning to show results. Now, if he could only do the same with Jason Evans ..."

"I fear Evans is a lost cause,Colt," Saber said. "I do hope that you're wrong about him turning into another Jesse Blue, but I'm not sure we're doing anyone a favour by making him a Star Sheriff either."

"He has to grow up eventually," Colt returned stubbornly. "But anyway, you see what nonsense the students say about everybody. Don't let it upset you, Fireball."

"Well, General WhiteHawk isn't threatening to fire either of you over it, is he?" Fireball yelled.

"Fire you?" Saber gasped quite undignifiedly, but he couldn't help it. This sounded so very unlike the kindly old man. "He didn't actually say that!"

"Yes, he did. He thinks I'm driving away students and if I don't stop it he has to get rid of me. But how do I stop false rumours?"

"He can't," Saber said completely shocked by the idea of losing Fireball like that. It was completely unheard of that Cavalry Command would fire a war hero because he couldn't teach. Besides Fireball was still young enough to return to the field where he'd already preformed excellently in the past. In fact ... "He really can't, Fireball. He doesn't have the authority. He can request that you be reassigned, but even that needs the agreement of Commander Eagle. You don't really think April's father would fire you, do you?"

"Well, he didn't actually say fire," Fireball admitted a little sheepishly. "I just thought that's what he meant. I suppose it must have been request reassignment then, but I don't like that either."

"Why?" Colt asked. "We all know you hate teaching and can't wait to return to the field. If it comes to that, why don't you tell the general that you'd really like to go back to patrolling and to please tell Commander Eagle that. He might even make it look like it is all your idea to leave the Academy in the first place so it won't look bad on your record."

It sounded like an excellent idea, but it still made Saber feel sick to think of Fireball leaving.

"Do you two want to get rid of me?" Fireball asked eyes wide with outrage.

"No!" Saber shouted surprising even himself by his vehemence. "I'll talk with General WhiteHawk and clear this up. Nobody's leaving."

"No, Saber," Colt said. "It's not your problem and there's a better way to handle this. If you don't want to go to WhiteHawk, Fireball, then tell April. She can probably fix it all with Commander Eagle."

"That's not a bad idea," Saber admitted. "But I'll still ask the headmaster what's really going on. It's probably all completely harmless."

Or maybe not. He knew that Fireball hated teaching and that his students didn't like him either. Perhaps General WhiteHawk had learned those things as well and thought he'd be doing Fireball a favour by offering him a chance to leave, but Saber didn't want his team to be broken up. If only Fireball could make it through two more months of teaching the school year would be over and they could go back to Ramrod together, but if Fireball was already patrolling with a different team by then chances were that he wouldn't be available and they'd be given a stranger for their pilot instead. They might never work together again!

And what if General WhiteHawk had made the offer because he already knew that they wouldn't be returning to Ramrod in two months? Had there been a decision to ground Saber for another year? Or permanently?

If the psychologist had made an unfavourable report to Commander Eagle, though, why had Eagle told WhiteHawk and left Saber in the dark? Why hadn't the psychologist mentioned anything to him at all?

They'd set up a small model of the engine room on the kitchen table to try out various ways to change the wiring and boost the drive.

"If only we could make a connection here without disrupting the ..."

The ringing of the phone interrupted April mid-sentence.

"Oh bother!" she moaned. "Not now!"

She was about to announce that she'd just let it ring even though it disrupted her concentration, but then Doctor Toleda said: "Go on, just answer it. It's probably something minor that you can deal with in a moment and if you ignore them, they'll only keep calling."

He was right of course and so she got up with a sigh and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"April, it's me, Fireball. Listen, I need your help."

"Oh Fireball, can't it wait? Doctor Toleda and I are working on this really brilliant idea to boost Ramrod's drive which might give us a little more room in the engine room and then ..."

"All right, I'll call back tonight then. Or sometime. Bye."

"Fireball? Wait a moment! What ..."

But he had already hung up.

"Oh."

"What was it?" Doctor Toleda asked when she returned to the kitchen. "You look troubled."

"Oh, just Fireball. He said there was some kind of problem he needs me to help with and he'll call back tonight. He just forgot to say what sort of problem."

"Well, if it can wait until tonight, it can't be that serious," Doctor Toleda reassured her. "Look I think I've worked it out."

Fireball hung up the phone with a sigh. He should have known better than to expect help from April at the moment. She had clearly forgotten all about her love for him over her new romance with Doctor Toleda's project. Or was she actually in love with Doctor Toleda himself? How old was that man? Fireball had never met him.

What if he was young and attractive? His title already proved that he was smart and accomplished. Sure, Fireball had his racing fame and place on the Ramrod team, but was that equal to an academic title? Most likely his being a war hero meant little to nothing to April who was after all one herself. She'd grown up around war heroes and what was a racing career compared to an academic one?

There had to be some way he could find out what the man looked like and whether he was married. April wouldn't steal away another woman's husband, would she?

He'd love to ask Saber what he knew about the man. Or dared he ask Commander Eagle? He could use his problem with General WhiteHawk as an excuse to see him and ask him whether April had found another man. Or maybe it would be wiser to use his worry over April's sudden withdrawal as an excuse to see him and mention his problem with General WhiteHawk? Which would be the wiser move and was either appropriate?

He'd have to ask Saber, but then he wasn't supposed to bother Saber with his problems and Saber thought it was all just a misunderstanding.

He almost wished he had a psychologist, too. Psychologists were supposed to be really good at giving life advice, weren't they?

Maybe he could ask Saber to let him come along to his next appointment and borrow his psychologist for a few minutes? Saber didn't like those appointments anyway. But it would still involve Saber.

Fireball trotted back into the kitchen, sat down at the small table and regarded their resident Psychology teacher. Colt was still grading, but he'd never said not to bother him and he was the closest thing to a psychologist around, a very pathetic closest thing, but maybe he still knew how to get information on Doctor Toleda.

"Colt?"

Fireball's voice sounded strangely weak and pleading, as if he were feeling even worse than before. That shouldn't be. Surely Saber's revelation that General WhiteHawk couldn't fire him at all must have reassured him? He'd seemed reassured at the time, so what could have changed in just a few minutes?

"Yes?" he said pushing his work aside as much as he could on the too small table. "You aren't really that worried about being reassigned, are you? It'd just be a temporary separation if it goes through at all. Commander Eagle wouldn't separate you from April any longer than he has to."

"So you think he approves of our relationship?" Fireball asked in a hopeful tone.

"Why shouldn't he? The only thing speaking against it that I can think of is your dangerous profession and being a soldier is an Eagle family tradition, so I can't imagine that he ever hoped for anything else for April."

"You don't think he might prefer an engineer? Or a teacher with a bright future in a well paid secure job?"

"Why would he even consider it? April has always had her heart set on a soldier, hasn't she? First it was Saber and now you. And he can't have any hopes that she'll marry Saber, because he's never returned her feelings and everybody knows it. Besides Eagle likes you."

"Does he really?"

"Of course he does. A lot better than me in any case. Why are you so nervous about it? April hasn't decided to ask his permission to marry you while she's discussing your possible reassignment, has she?"

Surely even April wasn't that clumsy!

"No, she's so engrossed in Dr. Toleda that she never gave me a chance to tell her about that at all. I'm not going to get any help from her in this, Colt."

"Oh well, then we'll do without her. It shouldn't be a problem. I'm pretty sure General WhiteHawke will be happy to pass on your wishes to Commander Eagle, if you just tell him what's troubling you about being reassigned. And if that doesn't work out you can still go to Eagle yourself. I tell you he doesn't want to separate you and April any more than you want it. He'll find a solution for you."

"What if April doesn't want me anymore?" Fireball asked almost pleadingly. "What if she's in love with this Dr. Toleda? Do you know anything about him?"

"He's a doctor of engineering and working under April at the moment," Colt supplied all he knew. "He seems to be quite brilliant and I think that April admires that. But that's no reason to assume that she's in love with some musty old Doctor."

"But is he old?" Fireball asked urgently. "Have you ever seen him? What if he's young and attractive?"

Colt stopped to think about this. It was a logical reaction and April did have a terrible tendency to flirt with people.

"You know what," he told Fireball. "I think we ought to find out. Those two work on Sundays, don't they?"

"Yes, so what do we do about that?"

"Why we use the next Sunday that we both haven't got any other plans to pay a little visit to Ramrod and see how the work's coming along. Unannounced because it's a completely spontaneous decision, mind you. We just suddenly realise how much we miss good old Ramrod and April. Then we might just happen to see Doctor Toleda as well."

"It's just cowardice, that's all," Colt heard Cadet Quinto announce as his next class filed onto the shooting range. "And totally unworthy of him. He'd make an excellent Star Sheriff if only he'd accept his duty. But I'll get that stubborn idiot to see reason eventually."

Maybe he ought not to interfere, Colt thought. This was obviously a conversation between students, but on the other hand as their Psychology teacher he felt responsible for the emotional crises of his pupils and Quinto seemed very agitated by something that didn't quite sound logical. Not to mention that the words he'd overheard indicated that another student was going through a crisis in his career choice and General WhiteHawke probably expected his teachers to make sure that the Academy produced as many Star Sheriffs as possible.

On the other hand ... well, Colt decided to postpone his decision what advice he ought to give the student until he knew what exactly the reasons for his sudden doubts were. If it was just an early case of pre-exam nerves he'd reassure the boy of course, but if there really was a reason to assume that he'd be happier in another career ...

"Is there a problem, Cadet?" he asked instead of handing out a blaster to Quinto.

"Problem, Sir? No, why would there be a problem?"

"Well, you seem quite upset," Colt hinted. "And the way you were gesticulating just now, I wonder whether you might not want to get something off your chest before you start handling a blaster today."

Quinto blushed.

It's nothing to be ashamed of," Colt assured him. "We all get upset sometimes, but one needs to focus and keep a steady hand when shooting. So, tell me what's up?"

"Oh, it's nothing really. Just Tuesday spouting his usual nonsense about wanting to be a priest again. After he's spent four years at the Academy. He's just throwing away his chance to be a Star Sheriff!"

Oh! Colt certainly hadn't expected that.

"I don't know, Cadet. Mr. Omawombe has told me quite a lot about this plan, you see, and it seems to me that he feels a very strong religious calling. I don't think he'd be at all happy as a Star Sheriff."

"His father's a Star Sheriff!" Quinto snapped. "It's his duty to him as well as to the Academy."

Alright, this was ... seriously weird.

"Now, I believe the only duty Mr. Omawombe has towards his parents is to honour them as the bible tells him to. He certainly doesn't have any duty to choose a particular profession just because his father did."

"But he is shaming them by choosing one that's beneath his social class!" Quinto insisted.

"Why Cadet Quinto, this is the first I've heard of priest being a dishonourable profession," Colt had to fight to keep a straight face. "Mr. Omawombe has told me that he feels that he has a duty to God and wants to follow that and as far as I know his parents do not object to it in any way and neither does the Academy. You may have noticed that we are offering a poly-technical class for students that do not wish to become Star Sheriffs. We wouldn't do that if we expected everybody here to join the army."

"But he is throwing away the chance to be a Star Sheriff!" Quinto repeated.

"He does not want it," Colt pointed out again "He is making use of his chance to be something else. And by declining the place he was offered in a Star Sheriff class he passed his chance to be a Star Sheriff on to another student that actually wants it, but didn't have the privilege of attending the academy's high school. Don't you agree that that student will probably make a much better Star Sheriff than Mr. Omawombe would, if he were forced to become one against his own wishes? The place has not gone to waste, Cadet Quinto. All our Star Sheriff classes have the maximum number of students and in fact, I believe, several good candidates had to be turned away, because the Academy doesn't have any more room for them. To consider any of the high school or poly-technical students obliged to become Star Sheriffs under those circumstances seems absurd."

"But he ought to want ..."

"Tell me, Cadet Quinto, why did you choose to be a Star Sheriff?" Colt asked before the boy could repeat his useless statement once again.

"I ... why ... because it's the best and I had the chance and ... well, it's being a Star Sheriff, right?" Quinto stuttered.

"You know, that is not the most coherent argument I have ever heard. Have you ever really sat down and thought it over?"

"Well, no Sir. There wasn't any reason to do so. I always knew I wanted to be a Star Sheriff."

Colt nodded.

"You know," he said. "I think that Mr. Omawombe did sit down and think about it for a very long time before he decided to decline and become a priest. He knows exactly why he wants to be a priest and has told me so very convincingly. You haven't really convinced me why you ought to be a Star Sheriff."

"What about you,Sir?" an unexpected voice intruded into their conversation. "Would you be okay with telling us why you chose to become a Star Sheriff?"

Colt glanced at the speaker in surprise and recognised Ian Doe who was looking at him very seriously. Well, he had no reason to hide anything there.

"We were in the middle of the last Outrider war at the time. I'd seen all the death and destruction that Outrider attacks brought. My own parents, peaceful farmers, had died in such an attack. My friends and neighbours had lost loved ones and property. People were scared and looking to the Star Sheriffs for help. I knew I was a good shot of course, but I'd wanted to take over my parents' farm, so I never even thought about applying to the Academy. With the farm gone, though, I decided that I ought to use my skill to help drive the Outriders away and save some people. So I started to hunt down Outrider agents on my own at first. Then one day I happened to run into Captain Rider on one of those missions. It turned into a very dire situation when the city was attacked by a Renegade and I was asked to help out as a temporary Star Sheriff for the moment." Colt smiled. "And afterwards I was asked to stay on a little longer because Cavalry Command needed every man it could get to fight the Outriders. Fighting Outriders and protecting the people was exactly what I wanted to do and so I agreed ... and at some point a little longer turned into permanently, I suppose. Nobody actually ever asked me about that, but I never regretted staying."

"But the war is over now, and you ended up having to teach instead," Cadet Quinto asked. "Don't you regret that? They say Mr. Fireball does."

Ah, so they'd figured that out, had they?

"Well, I haven't asked him, but I suppose Fireball might be a little bored with teaching. He likes speed and action and of course he has to take it slow when teaching beginners to drive. As for me, though, I like teaching more than I ever expected I might. I just told you I wanted to protect people, but that was because right then they needed protecting more than anything else. What I really like to do is to help others, to make a difference, and here I am helping to prepare an entire new generation of Star Sheriffs for their duties. Someday soon you will go out there and protect people and between you, even this single class by itself will help more people than I alone ever could. And by having taught you, I will have a small part in that. So yes, I'm quite happy with what I'm doing. What about you then?" Colt asked the very thoughtful looking Cadet Doe. Why did you choose to become a Star Sheriff?"

"I guess for much the same reasons as you did. I'm an orphan, so I have no family to miss me and well ... there are reasons why I'm not likely to ever choose to have a wife and children either. Becoming a Star Sheriff seemed like a good way to do something useful with my life."

Colt nodded and turned to the next student.

"How about you Jonassen?"

"Well, because it's an exciting life? I don't want a boring desk job. I want to see some action, do great deeds."

That made Colt smile.

"I think that's probably roughly what Fireball would say, as well. Cadet Hartford?"

Max Hartford shrugged.

"I always thought I'd be a miner like my Pa, but then the mines all closed down and there were so few jobs left on our planet that I realised I had to go somewhere else and do something else. The Star Sheriff Academy sounded like a good idea because it offered a guaranteed job along with the training."

"Well, Cadet Quinto," Colt summed up. "There seem to be a lot of possible reasons to become a Star Sheriff, and none of them seem to have anything to do with duty to one's parents. And there are at least as many valid reasons not to become a Star Sheriff. Mr. Omawombe has chosen to become a priest, so let him be a priest."

"I happy he become whatever he like," Cadet Ahmeidi commented unexpectedly. "If he stop telling us what we eat and believe. He tell me I must be Christian, I tell him he must be Star Sheriff. Is just as true."

Colt couldn't help laughing at that.

"I suppose you have every right to use it to illustrate that," he agreed.