An Odd Student

by Mr. David R. Dorrycott

the Usual Suspects Copyright Mr. Simon Barber

For the fun of it.

Molly LuAnn Rote stepped onto Eastern Islands tarmac into a boiling hot Spontoon day. Boiling hot only that just twenty-nine hours before she had boarded her first flight at Barrow on Furryness’s private airport. An airport that had been built during the second world war, then taken over by Lady Allworthy and turned into a jewel for her business enterprises. Needless to say, the temperature differences between both places were drastic. Sweat poured from the mouses skin, dampening her fur into a mat under her sun-dress. Not far away, well within walking distance was her new home for the next three years. Three years only if her grades were kept at an acceptable level, and her body did not fail her.

Four years of applications had finally landed her a place in the world premier, and most exclusive training center for adventurous girls. Even today only fourteen girls were accepted each year into the pilots section of Songmark. Twenty eight into the mechanics side. Of billions of young ladies worldwide, each year only a total of forty-two could don the coveted Songmark note. Of those twenty-eight would be bronze, only fourteen gold. Such as herself. Then there was the equally coveted Whitehall University of Sciences, where exactly one hundred arrived each year. Rarely more than a third of those graduated four years later with the silver comet on their collars. In all her studies Molly had discovered only two girls who could legally wear the gold note of a Songmark graduate, and the silver comet of a Whitehall graduate at the same time. She intended to be the third.

Boots came to a stop behind her, a harsh scent of overheated ratel soon reached Molly’s nose. “Molly Rote” a harsh voice asked from behind her.

“Molly LuAnn Rote Miss Carson” she replied, not bothering to turn towards the speaker. “Of the infamous Mrs Rotes family. They were my grandmothers.”

“Very good first year. And just how didja know I was Miss Carson?”

Molly turned to face the second year, impressed by what she saw. Ratels were rough, strong and quick to temper. This girl made the average female ratel appear as a pampered pet. “Miss Carson, it is a hot day. Your scent struck me before you spoke, even though you are technically downwind of myself.” She used her free paw to indicate the area about them. “In truth. Air currents here are much too confused to create an effective downwind position less than ten feet away from your target. Second, Miss Carson is the only ratel listed in Songmarks student class. Either bronze or gold level. QED, you are Miss Carson.

“Right Sherlock Holmes” the ratel barked in laughter. “Be careful yer mouth round the instructors. Miss Devinski will have yah writting a twenty page report on just this. Names Carla. Carla Princess Carson.” She winked. “Dad is ah hopeless fantasy reader. Come on, get yer stuff and I’ll lead yah in. Less yah want the two shell tour?”

“No thank you Miss Carson. I hope to have seven years to discover all the secrets of Spontoon, less Sacred Island of course. Shall we?”

“Seven years” Carla repeated as they started walking towards the terminal. “Full boat huh? Impressive. An your grandparents are tha secret squirrel an mad scientist? You know Cranium Island is still too dangerous tah even fly near. An its Carla, I don’t go for formalities around history. You got a huge name tah live up too.” They continued talking all the way up to Songmarks gates. Gates still showing the battle damage of World war Two. When they had been held for twelve days by a few pawfull’s of Songmarks best, and five priestess’s. All that had stood, and held at bay a determined enemy that had welded more than simply bullets and grenades.

“Be impressed” Carla warned as they reached the gate. “Tha honored dead live here. All over Spontoon. Enemy’s invaded, got their tails ripped off for tha effort. Lost ah lot more than they won. Lotta places on Spontoon honored war shrines. Guides’ll clue yah in tah tha ones fer tha public. Up tah you tah find tha really important ones though.

“Seven dead, one a priestess” Molly answered. “Against how many dead attackers? Four, five hundred? Most of who’s bodies were horribly mangled by the very demons that they had brought with them to win the day.” She shuddered, bowing deeply to those heavily repaired gates before continuing on. “Of all things, invited to freely cross that threshold is a great honor.”

“Yep, ahn don ever forget it. Yer Songmark now. Pass, fail, yer Songmark for life. First year dorm over there. Faculty offices this way. Yah meet tha facility, then yah get ah bed. But ah warn yah, it ain’t a great bed ahn you’ll no see a lot of it.”

“Your accent slips” Molly noted.

“Yep. Took tha great Nikki three years tah manage one. I’ve only been trying less than two.” Carla stopped in front of a taller, older and very impressive afghan hound. “Miss Devinski. First year Molly LuAnn Rote has arrived.”

“Acknowledged dear Carson. Back to the airport now. A new flight is due soon.”

“Yes mam.” Carla managed a snappy salute, spun on one heel and took off at a trot while Miss Devinski studied her newest student.

“Yes, I am descended directly from that Miss Devinski” she explained before Molly could ask the question. “As you are descended from the famous Rotes. I warn you now. I did not want you here. I will make your life here a hell on earth.”

“I assumed someone did not desire my attending, from the blunt letters that arrived” Molly admitted. “My forth application. If I may know why?”

“Determination” the hound admitted. “Your first application was dismissed without opening the envelope. Your second was read, your third was shared with the other instructors. Miss Rote know this. That we are well aware of who you are. Most girls only apply once. Those that apply twice rarely apply three times. By then they have moved on with their lives. Very, very few have ever applied four times while only one has tried the fifth. You are now twenty years old. We have decided to give you a chance. But go over the line even once and you will find yourself on the way back to the Allworthy’s care. You fully understand this?”

“I do Miss Devinski. Not the why, but that it is to be” the mouse answered. “I will do all that I am able to apply myself, to make my Grandmothers proud of me.”

Miss Devinski nodded her head in agreement. “Though both have passed on years ago, they watch you. This I can assure you Miss Rote. They watch you most carefully. Off with you then. Room three. Miss Shastri has already arrived. Lunch is at twelve. Not twelve ten. Not eleven fifty. Be late and you do without. Good day Miss Rote. For now.”

“Thank you Miss Devinski” Molly answered. She managed a rather respectful British salute, then with suitcase in paw made her way back through the oppressive heat to the First Years dorm and room three.

Behind her the Afghan watched her walk away, an expression of worry on her face. Would there be something in Songmark, or on Spontoon to trigger a latent memory? How good had Alpha been, really. What the shrew had done was supposed impossible by the current Medical establishment. Even the Priestess’s had been dubious. Still reports from the Whitehall’s, Allworthy’s and Rotes had shown no evidence of that original personality. How though would things be, should this Molly discover her true past.

Taking a deep breath Miss Devinski walked back into her office. How would her Grandmother have dealt with this. It was a first, a reborn Songmark graduate returning for classes. Perhaps Henrika would know, or more to the point that which lived in the now forever young skunks body. It was a historic day though. For Beryl had returned to Songmark.