The Refugee (The Korvali Chronicles Book 1) by C. A. Hartman

would benefit greatly from private tutelage. I would like you to take him as a student and provide mentorship to him.” He paused. “He must learn to defend himself, especially once we arrive at Derovia, where looking after him will prove more difficult.”
    She hesitated, surprised at the request. “Why me?”
    “Eshel seems to feel more at ease with you than he does with others.”
    “What if he prefers someone else?”  
    Yamamoto shook his head. “I already asked him. He prefers you.” He paused, studying her. “Does the prospect of working with Eshel make you uncomfortable?”
    “No. I’ve just never mentored anyone. It’s… intimidating.”
    “You will do fine. I will provide you with guidelines and suggested curricula, should you need them. He will continue class instruction twice per week, and I would like him to meet once per week with you, at a time agreed upon by you both. He preferred a more ambitious schedule, but it is better that he focus on his studies.”  
    Catherine shook her head. “He’s tireless.”
    “Consider it your job to tire him out a little.”  
    She smiled. “Consider it done.”  

    Catherine met with Eshel Sunday morning at 1000. When she arrived, Eshel was already in the studio, dressed in training apparel. Upon seeing her, he bowed.  
    “How do you want to handle contact?” she asked him.
    “Contact?”
    “Touching.”
    “You have my permission. I will adapt.”  
    “Don’t worry,” she said. “Most of your early training won’t involve a lot of contact anyway.”  
    They spent their time working on self-defense fundamentals: punches, blocks, and kicks. By the end of their session, which ran way over their 90-minute window of time, Catherine was starving and Eshel, to her delight, looked tired. Instead of grabbing a shower, she decided to head straight for the mess. When Eshel learned that was her plan, he asked to join her.  
    Once they got their meals, Eshel walked to the officer’s section of the mess. Catherine halted, confused, until she realized Eshel’s midshipman status allowed him to eat there now. When they sat down, Eshel gazed at her as if looking at something specific.  
    “Your hair color… it is highly valued on Korvalis.”
    “Really?” Catherine said, surprised. “Why?”
    “Such a pigment is extremely rare among my people, and is considered genetically superior. There is a group among the Osecal that specializes in breeding children with red hair.”
    “Are there a bunch of redheaded kids running around Korvalis now?”  
    Eshel finished chewing his food. “No. It is an expensive procedure. Most cannot afford it. And we could not reproduce your color red… what do you call it?”
    “Auburn.”
    “We can only produce fairer shades.”
    “Breeding for physical attributes was banned on Earth years ago,” she told him, tucking her hair behind her ear. “But even before the ban, nobody wanted red hair.”
    “Why?”
    “A lot of people don’t like it. There’s still a very old prejudice that redheads are temperamental.”
    “Temperamental?”
    “That they have angry, difficult temperaments.”
    “That makes little sense. The genes for hair color show no linkage with those responsible for one’s character. And you do not seem ‘temperamental,’” he added.
    She smiled. “I have my moments.”
    He studied her hair once more. “It is not accurate to label red hair as red. There are many versions of this color.”
    She shrugged. “Humans like simplicity, not accuracy. And I can’t comment… I can’t see reds.”
    It was Eshel’s turn to be surprised. “You are colorblind?”
    She nodded.  
    “I have read about this. It is absurd. A scan of your X chromosomes would identify the nature of the anomaly, and could be easily fixed. Have you surveyed the region around the receptor genes?”
    “I have. The problem I ran into…” She stopped herself, glancing around. “We better not talk about this.”
    Eshel, a look