He let his mind drift, eager for more knowledge...Again the suns beat down, darkening his leathery skin from blue to purple. The whip, cherished symbo... of his status as field-foreman, dangled idly from his wrist. The workers, knee-deep in squelchy brown mud, moved more slowly as his attention wandered. Darveel drank sparingly from his flask, the trace of drug in the water bracing his will. Once more the workers quickened their movements, their drowsing minds responsive to his commands. At the. At least he had the mysterious girl in the front. She'd be the only thing to keep him from losing his sanity in this class. Walking to the board he picked up the chalk and wrote his name on the board. The class became quiet as the clock ticked to five o'clock p.m. Four more hours to go, he thought, just four more hours. He turned from the chalk board and walked to his desk, facing the 28 students he had for this class. "I'm Ben Jackson. I'll ask you to call me Professor Jackson as I. More

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