Liaden Universe [19] - Alliance of Equals - eARC (14 page)

“But Elzin was gone, and the Scouts didn’t get their AI to interrogate. I imagine they had to explain the expenditure to somebody, too, but that wasn’t my problem.
I
got paid.”

“I have seen,” Tocohl said, “the tapes of the extraction process, Mentor. The Scouts themselves said they doubted anyone else could have brought Elzin safely into the new architecture, save yourself. The move
did not
kill him. If we must, let us say that his filters failed.”

There was a small silence before Tolly’s mouth twisted and he looked up at her.

“All right, Pilot, let’s say that.”

“Very good,” she said briskly. “I have information. One moment.”

She brought the files forward and scanned them: one encoded in Jeeve’s familiar, and comforting, protocols; the other flat and cold, mere facts garnered from those archives available to her which were not filtered through Jeeves.

“Inkirani Yo,” she said to the two expectant humans in the galley, “is a journeyman mentor, with two births and one transfer to her own name.”

She paused, and added.

“One of the births was contracted by Crystal Energy Consultants.”

Tolly betrayed no distress; his pulse remained calm; his breathing relaxed. Hazenthull seemed confused, but not in any way upset.

“Crystal Energy’s owned by a man called Uncle, Haz,” Tolly said, apparently noticing her confusion. “Uncle’s been around for a long time. In fact, it just seems to work out, for those of us who’ve tried to do the math, that he came over from the old universe.”

Hazenthull frowned. “Uncle is…as Pilot Tocohl?”

“No; he’s human. Best guess—again, from those of us who’re more curious than’s sensible—is that he’s serial. What you’d call a clone.”

He stretched and gave the big woman a grin, apparently enjoying her expression of careful neutrality.

“He’s just a neighbor, Haz. You don’t bother him; he doesn’t bother you. Unless he has what he considers to be a good reason.”

He looked back to Tocohl.

“We all wind up working for the Uncle or somebody close, once or twice. It’s what comes of living on the grey side. What else has Mentor Yo done?”

Tocohl hesitated, as if she were consulting the document again, relieved at his phrasing. He was interested in field experience only. That was well.

“Mentor Yo also has a long list of assists from names known to me—and to you, also, I believe, Mentor.”

She swayed slightly on her lifters, a half-bow in recognition of a venerable name in the field, indeed.

“Mentor Yo assisted in a deactivation, serving as second to Fron Kellinit.”

Tolly stirred at that.

“She’s good, Mentor Kellinit,” he said softly. “Worked with her, myself.”

“Yes,” Tocohl said, and closed the file. She angled her face toward Tolly, allowing serious eyes to be seen.

“I believe that having Mentor Yo on hand to lend her skill might be prudent. There can, I think, be no doubt of her discretion, given her choice of career.”

Tolly rubbed his nose. Nodded.

“Agreed. I’ll just call
Ahab-Esais
and give the mentor the good news, then, shall I?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Vivulonj Prosperu

“Daav.”

The voice was…almost…familiar. He paused with his hand over a board that glittered with darkness, and looked toward the comm. A single blue light glowed there, jewel bright amid the shadows.

“Daav.” The voice came again, clearer this time; firm and assured.

“Daav, it is Aelliana. We are separate once more, and appear to be in good order. I believe our situation is for the moment stable, and relatively benign. There are no active enemies within the scans. Your hurts have been healed, and you may take your chair at will.”

His chair? But surely he was in his chair; the board ready, and he about to…about to…

The blue comm light flashed; the dire board beneath his hand flared as if in answer, dials, gauges and touchpads—all and each of them brilliantly blue. Light came up in the chamber about him, and he heard the shushing sound of a door unsealing.

He spun the chair, and, indeed, a door stood open directly across, a lighted hallway beyond, and blue guidelights flashing along the floor, giving him his direction.

Back he spun, to lock the board—aux board and war bridge, it must be, he thought, and whatever danger had threatened the ship now passed. Situation stable and benign, his pilot had said, and he was wanted in the copilot’s chair.

But the aux board when he addressed it was found to be locked down, and in proper state, though he had not—but no matter, he thought, suddenly aware of the pounding of his heart. No matter. His pilot had called, and he was wanted at his post.

Up he came onto eager feet, following the guidelights out into the hall and up, moving into a smooth run as eagerness overtook him, the air cool and tasting of mint.

The hall curved, and there he found another door, blue light blazing above it. He extended his hand, paused just short of the plate.

“Daav, it is Aelliana.” Her voice came from the speaker beside the door, and he smiled, to hear her. “Wake do, and let me see you…”

He pressed palm to plate.

The door snapped back…and he opened his eyes.

—•—

“It pains me to say so, Pilot, but today’s run indicates that your reaction times have slowed…considerably, since your last testing.”

First Mate Danae Tiazan was another cousin, younger than Dil Nem by a dozen years or more. She was…not the sternest of those master pilots who had the tutoring of Padi as part of a rotating schedule.

Padi sat with her hands folded on the edge of the simulation board, her eyes on the blank screens. She offered no argument, no protest; she did not state that of course the calibration subsystem required an overhaul…

In fact, she had known that she had been slow. She had been, not to put too fine a point on it, only slightly more useful to her ship than a stuffed bunny. At least a stuffed bunny would have been amusing.

“What is interesting, and the circumstance which allowed you to finish your run with the parameters expected of a second class, provisional,” Danae continued, “is that your understanding of the board’s geography appears to have made a leap. There were many less false starts; far fewer instances of an error corrected in mid-move.”

So, she knew the board better, but her speed was falling off. Danae might find that interesting, but Padi could not see that this circumstance ultimately helped her case. If she was to be a pilot of Korval—if she was to
remain
a pilot of Korval, for she had a provisional second class license in her pocket—she must recapture her proper speed.

“Do reactions simply…slow?” she asked, not quite daring to meet Danae’s eyes.

“It has been known. Illness or injury are the most common causes of a loss in speed. In your own case, Pilot, I would suggest a far simpler cause. I believe that you are bored.”

Padi blinked, and turned the chair slightly to look into her tutor’s face.

Let it be known that Danae Tiazan’s sense of humor…was not broad. Nor was she much inclined to joke at the board, as was, say, Nys Charls, another of her tutors. Certainly, it did not seem that Danae was joking at the moment. If anything, her face was even sterner than usual, as if she had discovered a lamentable, and irreparable, flaw in Padi’s character.

She also seemed to be waiting. Padi hoped she was waiting to hear the only question it occurred to her to ask.

“Bored, Pilot?” she murmured.

“
Bored
, Pilot,” Danae answered, with emphasis.

Padi took a careful breath, recalling today’s run at the simulator.

“Forgive me, Pilot, but today’s run was…exacting.” She had, in fact, been required to dance an avoidance in orbit, only to find high winds and sleet awaiting her when she hit atmosphere. An advanced run, suitable for one who aspired to first class, even as she lacked nearly a dozen hours yet to make her second class ticket firm.

“Indeed, it was exacting,” Danae agreed, her eyes on Padi’s face. “But it was not
real
. The traveling rock, the weather, the course change from Tower—all fiction. Your back brain knows this, even as your front brain was engaging with the problems.”

Possibly Padi looked stricken. Danae held up a hand.

“You will please understand that I do not consider today’s session in any way a failure. This improved understanding of board-space is notable, and important to your future success as a pilot. However, as I look back at your training records, I see that the last time you had live flight was Palamar, is that correct?”

“Yes, Pilot. I’ve been on the sim ever since we began to come into ports where the
Passage
isn’t known.”

Danae was seen to sniff.

“While I understand that there is a need for caution under present circumstances, I believe that clipping a pilot’s wings merely because a piece of space is strange to her is…misguided. While there are some ports where we are welcome, or which welcome us more fully, pilots are by our very nature obliged to fly strange space.”

She sighed. Deeply. And abruptly stood, bowing slightly in dismissal.

Padi scrambled to her feet and bowed as student to teacher.

“Thank you, Pilot,” she said, “for the gift of your expertise.”

Danae was frowning at the simulation board, and made no sign that she had heard.

After a moment, Padi moved to the door, and let herself out.

—•—

He was flat on his back on some firm surface, quite naked. The air was cool and spiced with mint.

Directly in his line of sight was a pale golden face, half-averted, and tipped upward, as if consulting a status board above and behind him. The throat was slim, the chin firm. Perhaps the cheek was damp. Lips were slightly parted, as if the board offered hope, in the wake of despair.

Even as he wondered who this might be, a sigh shivered through those parted lips, and the face angled downward—a woman’s face, softly rounded, with slim tawny brows over misty green eyes.

“Aelliana?” he said, recalling the voice from the comm. He raised a hand to touch her warm, damp cheek. “You appear to be…not quite yourself.”

Her lips quirked.

“So I am given to understand,” she said lightly. Her voice
was
the voice from the comm. “But you must admit it to be quite a trick, that I appear at all.”

He felt his mouth twitch in response to her tone—and suddenly shivered, as if the air had grown much cooler of a sudden.

The woman who claimed to be Aelliana caught her breath, and stood.

“Come, now!” she said briskly, reaching down to take his hand. “Let us get you up on your feet, and dressed in something warmer than the air!”

—•—

“Ah, excellent!” Father exclaimed, turning from where he had been standing over the chessboard, frowning down at a new problem. “I am naturally desolate, but I have been called into a meeting. I don’t expect it to last more than a quarter-hour. In the meantime, I wish you will do me the honor of sitting at the desk and reviewing the document on my screen. I would like your thoughts and a recommendation of appropriate action when I return.”

And with that, he was gone, past her and through the door in three long strides, leaving Padi alone in the office.

She did not immediately approach the desk and her task, but stood where she was, counting slowly.

When she had reached forty-four, and the door had
not
opened again to admit Father with one more instruction, which put a ninety degree spin on what he had asked her to do—then, she went to the desk and sat down in his chair.

Letter of Interest: Aldergate Enterprises to Tree-and-Dragon Family

Oh, very good
, she thought, moving the chair closer to the screen. If they could attach a new trade partner, even one of modest means, so long as their
melant’i
was…

Padi blinked, reread the first paragraph, and opened a notepad up in the bottom right corner of the screen. She made a note; read the second paragraph; made several more notes before moving on to the third…

She was reviewing Aldergate Enterprises’ credit report when the door opened and Father strolled in.

“Still reading?” he asked, crossing the room to the wine table. “May I give you something to drink, Padi?”

“Cold tea, please,” she said, flipping the screen back to the TerraTrade almanac.

“Certainly.”

She heard the clink of glass against glass, read the last paragraph of the letter of interest again, and turned the chair, meaning to get up—but Father was already settling into the visitor’s chair,
utterly
on the wrong side of the desk, wineglass in hand. The cup holding her tea was sitting on the stone coaster on the desk.

“Please continue,” Father said politely. “I don’t wish to disturb your work.”

“I believe I may have finished,” she said, picking up the cup and taking a sip of cool tea.

“Well, then!” Father raised his glass encouragingly. “What do you recommend me to do?”

“I recommend,” Padi said carefully, “that we have nothing to do with Aldergate Enterprises. I suppose that we do have to formally decline their offer, if only to keep Ms. dea’Gauss happy.”

“Decline their offer?” Father repeated. “Padi, this is only the third letter of interest we’ve received since the clan’s relocation to Surebleak. Surely, we can’t turn our faces away!”

He was going to make her work for it, was he? Very well. Padi had another sip of tea and put the cup aside.

“I think we must do exactly that, sir,” she said calmly. “Far from wishing to become partners-in-trade, it is clear from their letter that Aldergate Enterprises wishes to acquire the right to trade under our mark and name.”

“All of our affiliates show the Tree-and-Dragon,” Father objected, “and one or another of our trade names is included in their docking packets.”

“Yes,” Padi agreed. “However, none of our other affiliates claim
to be
Tree-and-Dragon Family. Aldergate Enterprises wishes to lease the right to use our name as their own,
nonexclusively
. They would not be carrying our goods, except by purest chance, and they would not in any way—as is explicitly stated in paragraph two—
be affiliated with Tree-and-Dragon Family, Surebleak.

“Oh,” Father murmured. “That’s irregular.”

“One might say so,” she answered, miming his tone of polite foolishness. “TerraTrade has Aldergate Enterprises listed as an ongoing criminal enterprise.”

“Well, but we both know, don’t we, Padi, that there may sometimes be an error in those sorts of lists?”

He was making her walk up the hill in both directions, drat him!

“We do, yes, know that errors may be made. That is why I also referenced
The Shipping News
, and the Trade Guild newsletter, and
Taggerth’s Trade News
.

“
Taggerth’s
is hardly a reputable source.”

“Not at all reputable,” she agreed. “However, it serves very well as corroboration. Aldergate Enterprises makes no honorable offer.”

“The leasing fee is quite generous,” Father commented, raising his glass.

Padi smacked her palm against his desk.

“
Now
you are just toying with me!” she said sternly. “Really, Father, you had no intention of accepting this offer, and well I know it!”

He looked a little sheepish.

“I will own that it seemed rather…one-sided. But, you know, I was somewhat rushed—that stupid meeting! It was very good of you to go to the trouble of researching the situation for me.”

She sighed, but inclined her head at just the correct angle for a gracious acceptance of his thanks. Cousin Kareen would have been
greatly
impressed.

“Well!” Father said, setting glass aside. “I will want to see your letter declining Aldergate Enterprises’ generous offer before it is transmitted—only to come into the way of appropriate phrasing, you understand! In the meantime, I hope you will be able to assist me with putting together a small notion that I intend for Langlast.”

She eyed him.

“What sort of notion?”

He smiled at her.

“Why, we’ve been so dull lately, that I thought it would do us all good to host a reception at Langlastport. I’m afraid that I’m hopelessly stupid about such things—but you are so competent and accommodating that I am certain you won’t mind taking care of the details.”

A reception?

She opened her mouth to say that she had never put together a trade reception in her life—

And closed her mouth, because of course he knew that.

She inclined her head once more.

“I am honored by your faith in my abilities,” she told him. “I wonder, if you would do me the favor of holding yourself ready to assist by answering questions, and perhaps offering insight.”

“Certainly,” he said. “I’ll be pleased to stand your second.”