“Don’t feel that you must respond with the others unless you have something to be added. You did well today but knew your part of the action better than anyone. Next meeting, we will talk about other things, which will probably be outside your experience. I’d like you to observe, for the most part, and we will meet after each meeting and go over your notes.”
“Yes, sir.”
The captain chuckled. “Don’t be intimidated by anyone, including me, but this is a learning experience for you and not for the rest of the group. We will proceed with this strategy in your development until it is no longer needed, and as I said, you can contribute if you think your opinion will add or if you are called upon.”
“I’m to sit in the corner, sir?” Quint asked.
“No. You are a group member but one in training. You sit at the table with everyone else. Now, you are dismissed.”
When Quint consulted his schedule, his next meeting was with Zoria Gauto, Sarrefo’s assistant.
“Here I am, Sergeant Gauto,” Quint said when he reported to the assessment.
“Good. We don’t have much time. I will show you to your desk. You probably were wondering where you were going to work.”
Quint grinned. “I was about ready to think about that. I’m trying to absorb everything else.”
“Overcome by it all?”
“Almost, sergeant,” Quint said.
“Then follow me.”
They walked across to the other side of the building into a large room filled with cubicles on the same floor.
“You get this one. There is a padlock on one of your drawers. That is where you will keep your sensitive papers. You don’t have any right now, so don’t worry,” Zoria said.
The cubicle was across from a window on the south side of the building.
“You may be bothered by the sun.”
“I don’t consider that to be a disadvantage. I can recharge my magic while I’m working.”
Zoria laughed. It was almost a giggle. “Uniforms are supposed to be worn in the building at all times.”
“My face and hands will be uncovered. Isn’t that permissible?”
“It is. This cubicle has been open because wizards are more concerned about their comfort than their power,” Zoria said.
“I’ll go down to the supply room and get more supplies,” Quint said.
“I’ll leave you here then. Keep this in the desk. It is your cubicle assignment and may keep others from bothering you about why you are sitting up here.”
Zoria left Quint alone. There were others in the room, but Quint’s walk between the cubicles didn’t reveal anyone he knew.
He didn’t have anything for the rest of the day and slipped down the stairs, withdrew an armful of supplies, and trudged up the stairs. He put everything away and looked at the padlock. The key was sticking out the side. He opened the drawer and withdrew an unaddressed envelope.
Quint stared at this commission as a lieutenant and a new certificate of his Level 3 status. A rating sheet behind it told Quint he needed to learn seven new strings. Two of them had to be psychic. Quint would have to ask someone how he could find an instructor. No one had talked to him about progressing as a wizard.
He already had his library badge, and that was his next stop. The library was close to his cubicle and when he walked in, he produced the badge to the librarian.
“You are here legally this time,” the librarian said.
“I was here legally before. I stayed behind longer to dust the pages of a few books.”
The librarian cast off her rigid demeanor. “You can continue with your dusting and are welcome any time with that badge. Your rank and rating also allow you to check out books, but any with a red or blue dot on the spine are ineligible to leave the library.”
“I can remember that. I wanted to see if my badge works.”
“It does, even though you are a hubite.”
Quint’s breath stopped. “And what does being a hubite have to do with anything?”
“Nothing,” the librarian said. “You are the only hubite in Strategic Operations, and only a few are in the wizard corps.”
“Should I meet them?”
“That is up to you. The other hubites are senior to you in rank but not in rating; both are Level 2’s, as I recall.”
“Maybe when my training is farther along,” Quint said. “I won’t be long.”
Quint took a few books from the shelves and sat at a table with the books in front of him. Both had red dots on their spines, and Quint suspected the best books for him were adorned with red dots, too.
After absorbing a few minutes of triumph, not feeling guilty about his presence, he returned the books and took his commission envelope and some supplies to work on his assignment.
Chapter Twelv
