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score?”
    An obviously tipsy young man of nineteen leans forward to brag. “ I got a sixty-seven! With THREE extra points!”
    Lag is impressed. “Oh, outstanding! Well done! Three extra points isn’t easy. That is an excellent way to start the résumé!” Scanning the others at the table he sees one young man who looks slightly sullen, downcast, not quite as celebratory as the others. Something is not right about one of his sleeves. “And how did you do?” Lag asks.
    The young man speaks slowly at first, then faster as he explains. “Only an 8. I went for a star-drive apprenticeship. Would have earned a 4 on performance, but on my last shift a power conduit I should have checked blew and took this.” He holds up the stump of his arm, gone about halfway between shoulder and elbow. “They docked it down to a 1. I’m good at math, so it was supposed to be an easy assignment for me. If I hadn’t got the conduit properly shut down and a tourniquet on my arm in time it would have been worse, though.”
    The first girl interrupts, “He earned an extra two points by shutting it down correctly after he lost the arm, and saving another guy injured in the blowup, and it really wasn’t his fault. He was just on duty at the time.”
    He looks at her appreciatively before continuing, bitterly. “Trying to get a drive tech job after scoring an eight? Not going to happen.”
    “You followed procedure and got things shut down safely, after losing an arm, hmmm?” Lag says. “That’s not nothing.”
    “And getting the senior drive tech out of the room,” another of the young men adds, “He was knocked out by the blast. And he was really the one responsible.”
    “Well. The situation isn’t always as bad as you might think,” says Lag. “An eight is passing, if only just. I know someone who scored an 8 and is doing quite well. Good friend of mine, in fact. You still earned full rights of adulthood, and that’s worthy.
    “But,” he says, with lowered voice, leaning forward, “I do have to tell you…” As they all lean in, he speaks almost apologetically, “Now that you are adults, you represent Plataea and can be held fully accountable for your actions. Some of the people at my table have the ear of the Captain, and they don’t want to be bothered by your honestly deserved celebration. A more private place might be better. You should keep it down a bit.”
    Lag looks pointedly at one of the young men. “If word of any brig time gets back to your aunt Elen, Argo, she would not be amused.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender to forestall argument. “ I won’t tell. Komenagen deserves celebration. Just a word to the wise.” Argo sits back a little, wide-eyed at the implications. The group at the table remains silent as Lag pushes his chair back, stands, and raises his glass in salute. “Again, congratulations!” He turns and walks away.
    On his way back to his table, he passes another young lady in Plataean clothing. She stops short, with a deer-in-the-headlights expression, watches him return to his seat, then hurries over to her table to join her friends. There follows a rapid chatter of energetic whispers and gesturing, with some louder voices, which quickly dies down.
    Back at his own table, Lag smoothly takes his seat. He looks around and smiles cheerily. “They did well, and deserve a good celebration. I think they understand things now and will be quieting down soon.”
    The Senator isn’t convinced. “I should hope so, the rowdies. Kids today, no respect. What in a kid’s life is worth that kind of noise?”
    “Komenagen. They are now legally adults. By the way, Senator, did you know that the Plataean way to reply to an apology you accept is to say ‘proper,’ meaning it was a proper apology, and no further action is needed?”
    “Huh? I don’t get your point.”
    At the same time, the Doctor blurts out, “Them? Adults? But they look like kids!”
    His wife chimes in, “What’s