Tyvan decided to handle the issue with as much tact as he could. He didn’t want to risk embarrassing her, and then having her shut down. Please, no, not a repeat of last time, please.

“Well, Darya,” he began, “the reason is…today isn’t one of your regularly scheduled days.”

He saw confusion flicker across her features. “What? It’s not?”

“No. Your appointment isn’t until 1330 tomorrow.” When Bat-Levi didn’t respond, Tyvan added, “So I just assumed that you’d come by because something’s wrong. Is there something you want to talk about? Halak, perhaps, or Anisar Batra? She was a good friend of yours, wasn’t she?”

“Yes,” said Bat-Levi, though her voice was faint and the response automatic. Her eyes had a faraway look as if she were taking a mental inventory. Tyvan waited.

“I’m sorry,” Bat-Levi said at last. She made a move to get up. “I…I don’t know why I…”

Tyvan waved her back without moving from his seat. “Sit. I have nothing going on right now.” (Well, not much, just a little inquiry and a formal report.)

She did, again automatically, that confused, surprised look still on her face. They said nothing for a few moments. Tyvan listened to the tick-tock of his clock and prayed, fervently, that Garrett would be satisfied with taking out only a small piece of his hide.

Bat-Levi licked her lips. “Isn’t Freud the one who said that there’s no such thing as forgetting?”

“Not in so many words, and not about everything. Actually, Talok of Vulcan went one step further. He wrote that normal people can’t forget what they already know. All things being equal, if a person forgets something, it’s to serve some deeper purpose for the unconscious mind. Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m here, now, when I shouldn’t be.” Her eyes slid to the floor and then back to his. “And as you’ve said, I’ve seen a lot of psychiatrists, so I don’t think this is an accident.”

“What do you think it is?”

Her gaze was steady, but he heard a slight tremor in her voice. “I think it’s one of two things. Either I told myself I had to be here at this time so it would seem more like youridea than mine…”

“Or?” Tyvan prompted, though he was impressed. She was right. She had spent a lot of time in the patient’s chair, long enough to do a good piece of self-analysis without any help from him.

She lifted her chin, pulling her straighter. Her scar gleamed a bright pink in the overhead lights. “Or I have something really important to tell you, and it can’t wait. Or maybe both.”

“I agree,” said Tyvan. His manner was still calm, but inside he felt a shock of excitement. “Where would you like to start?”

He saw from the look in her eyes that she was still debating about whether or not to flee. Then she reeled in a deep and tremulous breath then let it out, as if steeling herself. “Look, I’ll be honest with you. I owe you an apology for the way I behaved last time.”

She paused a half-beat, as if to give Tyvan an opening. Tyvan made no move to agree or disagree.

“I think it’s safe to say that I don’t like being here,” Bat-Levi resumed, “and I don’t really enjoy you, per se. I don’t mean to be rude, but that’s the way it is. I know that I don’t have to like you. It’s not your job to have me like you.”

“As I recall, a teacher once told me that if patients liked me, I wasn’t doing my job,” said Tyvan, and he meant that. Patients became anxious when a psychiatrist confronted them with the need for change. No one liked change, and the people who wanted to avoid changeavoided him,and in the close quarters of a ship, other people, not his patients, avoided him by association. (Of course, this meant that when he did his job well, he was lonely a great deal. How many people who’d confided their deepest fears and wildest fantasies had paled when he walked into a room? More than he could count: He knew that instant of wild animal panic that sparked in a patient’s eyes too well. It didn’t matter if the encounter was on the street, in a shuttle terminal, aboard ship; a patient’s reactions were, usually, the same. That flicker of surprise followed by fear that was replaced by an uneasy civility: How are you, Doctor? Good to see you.Smiles that were all teeth and too wide, gestures that were too animated. They were all lying, of course. No one was happy to see him outside the office.)

As if reading his thoughts, Bat-Levi said, “Then I’d think you’d be a pretty lonely man. Ships are roomier than they used to be but not thatroomy.”

“Maybe,” said Tyvan, not wanting to stray too far. His problems were his problems, not hers. “Is this about Anisar Batra?”

“Yes and no. I’ve been thinking about what you said: about guilt and responsibility. I’ll be honest about Ani. She was my friend, and I can’t imagine how Halak’s going to be able to look at himself in the mirror again. Halak’s got to live with this now every day of his life. I’ll bet that not a day has gone by when he hasn’t rehashed everything in his mind, wondered where he went wrong, what he could have done differently.” Bat-Levi moved her head from side to side, the movement stuttering as if her neck were made of gears that weren’t meshing properly. The right corner of her mouth was taut, twisting her mouth into a grimace. “Every morning he’s alive is another morning she isn’t.”

“Do you think he got her killed?”

“Yes, I do. He may not have meant it to happen…no, that’s stupid; I knowhe didn’t want anything like that to happen to Ani. But it did, and he’s got to feel some responsibility.”

Tyvan shook his head. “That’s not what I asked. Feelingresponsible isn’t the same as beingresponsible. I asked if he got her killed. You said he did. So you must think he could have done something to prevent it.”

“That’s like arguing about how many angels can dance on the head on a pin. He could have sent her away.”

“But Batra was an adult. Don’t you think that was up to her to make a choice?”

“Adults don’t always know the answers. You don’t expose the people you love to danger, and if you see danger and don’t do something about it, then it’s only right, it’s only just that you should live with your guilt every day of your life. I know it isn’t fair, but life isn’t fair. You do something like that, you should pay.”

“Even if what happened was an accident?”

Bat-Levi made an irritable gesture with her good hand: a flick of the wrist. “A lot of the things that people call accidents can be prevented, and Halak should’ve known. Farius Prime isn’t exactly sugar and spice. What the hell was he thinking? He was careless, and now,” her voice thickened and her eyes welled, “now Ani’s dead.”

“I imagine Halak feels pretty terrible.”

“I wouldn’t know about that.”

“Have you asked him?”

Bat-Levi wet her lips. “No. Halak, he’s hard to get to know. Like there’s this hard shell all around him, and you know he’d like you to break through only…”

“Only what?” Tyvan prompted when she didn’t continue.

“Nothing.” And then her watery gaze jerked away.

Tyvan decided to risk it. “I think you just lied to me.”

Bat-Levi’s eyes arced back, and Tyvan saw that they sparked with anger. The small muscles of her cheeks danced. A single tear tracked down the scar over her right cheek, but she made no move to wipe it away. Tyvan waited.

“I hate you,” said Bat-Levi. Her chin quivered, and another tear slid to join the first. “You know, I really hate you.”

Tyvan nodded.

Bat-Levi drew in a shuddery breath, used her good hand to smear away tears. “Well, you got me, didn’t you?”

“What did I get, Darya?”

“I’m talking about Halak, but…I’m talking about me. That’s it, isn’t it?” she asked then continued, without waiting for a reply, “That’s why I came a day early. This is all about me, my armor, my guilt. This is all about Joshua.”