Saltation (11 page)

"Yes." Theo nodded, feeling wistful. "I do like the Slippers. But now they've moved me into power group training so I can't get time."

"The universe is like that, Theo Waitley. When you are good at something, often you must give it up for something you are not so good at yet. This is inconvenient, but true."

The hand was now free of the disappeared pastry, but fascinating still, adorned as it was with several glittering rings and wrinkles so fine they looked like down.

"So you like the Slipper, and you like powered flight as well. Would you be satisfied to be an air pilot, do you think?"

The question took a moment to penetrate, and when it did, it took her breath.

On the desk, the chronometer hit seven, blinked once, and began counting down again.

"Air pilot?"

Theo heard the quaver in her voice, and winced. True, she was proud to wear the wings that Win Ton had sent her, once she'd confirmed as a rated soaring pilot. Her marks with powered craft were top-notch, too, but to
stop
there . . . 

"Do not be kittenish on my time, Theo Waitley!"

The woman plunked the cup down on her desk, and swept fully in front of Theo, using her height and posture to loom better than anyone had ever loomed over her, including Father.

"You must understand that worlds need air pilots; in fact, in many places air pilots who fly to orbit and back are what citizens think pilots are. It is worthy work!"

Theo felt heat on her face and tried to keep it out of her voice; her stomach felt as if she'd been in a mountainside downdraft. It didn't help that she was looking up—how could someone so skinny be so formidable?

Taking a deep breath, she replied, slowly: "Yes, air pilots do worthy work. I want to know how to fly—that's useful. It's fun. It's more than fun. But, I'm here to learn to be a spaceship pilot. I don't want the sky to be my roof!"

She took another breath, suddenly struck by a terrible thought. She looked carefully at the counselor's face and asked, quietly, "Is my math
that
bad?"

"Piffpuff, Theo Waitley, I have not accused you of being incompetent. I asked if you would be satisfied with the title of air pilot."

The flip of hand and the huff were unnerving, but Theo resisted the urge to stand.

Veradantha tugged a bright blue notetaker or comm from her belt, her frail-looking hands flowing over the keys. She glanced at the chronometer, murmuring something that sounded like "
what
time?"

Theo itched to see what was on that screen but the woman cradled it and walked away from her, peering out the window overlooking the campus airfield and back at the screen, inputting something, glancing outside again. The timer was flashing now and—

"Well, Theo Waitley," Veradanth said. "I am clear that you are not dumb. I am also clear that you are inconvenient. Worse, you are inconvenient in a way that is inconvenient not only to me—I have the habit of being inconvenienced!—but to you, and to the school itself."

Veradantha stood before her, looking down with solemn eyes.

"What we shall do, you and I in our turns, is we shall be convincing when necessary and if that is not sufficient, we shall contrive. I have sent to your regular advisor to ask permission for this, of course, and then we shall see if the threads you string are useful."

The counselor paused, looking away for a moment before peering down at Theo again.

"With luck you have not seen the last of me, as I have some tests you will need to take. I have some forms for you to fill out, a questionnaire or two, they will arrive soon, as soon as permission is given, in your campus mail. These tests will perhaps not be so comfortable for you, but they will clarify things."

Clarity was something she could use, Theo knew.

"Thank you," she began, but her words were waved off.

"I see you are nearly late to your next class, unless you run, which you will do. Thank you for your time."

Theo arrived at the door barely ahead of the crowd off the hourly shuttle, her key sticking first in her pocket and then to her sweaty fingers. She wondered who'd taught them to be so noisy—yah, and they wanted to be pilots!

Asu, at least, wasn't that noisy and she spoke up—

"Hey, Theo, my key's ready! Let the pro through!"

Theo snickered and stepped aside, the rucksack brushing against the side wall with an annoying hiss.

"I bow to progress," Theo agreed, and the door opened for her.

She might have taken the earlier shuttle herself, but she'd taken the longer walk, down by Belgraid, which was a pleasantly situated second and third year dorm she'd not visited before. Not that she'd exactly
planned
on meeting Kara there, but she'd hoped, and since she was still feeling wrung out from her meeting she'd happily accepted Ristof's polite invitation to a small session, joining Kara and three others for what she thought would be a few minutes.

"Bowli ball, huh?" Asu looked her up and down, scowling. "I'm glad to see you getting more social, but you're going to have to run those leggings through the cleaner a dozen times to get 'em clean, and the shirt twice as many, and that will cost the room a yellow dot, I bet!"

"No! I . . ." but a quick inspection showed her roommate's fears to be not entirely unjustified.

"You can do that indoors, you know? Sign up for one of the leagues or at least stop by the pad rooms and play rated. You won't get more than scuffed. But look at you! You look like someone who walked out of a forest. You even have twigs in your hair!"

The game had been going on, Ristof said, since before breakfast, and with trade-ins and trade-outs they were shooting for third-shift lights-out. Of course there wasn't really a lights-out, that was a holdover time for the locals who'd come through residence schools all their lives, but . . . 

"The real goal," Kara explained, "is to get us ready for the senior round-the-clock challenge at term end. Belgraid's gonna knock 'em this time!"

"Come, Asu, you know this was just a fun thing . . ."

"Hey, First Bunk, Chelly'd have a fit if he came in here and found that grass all over the place!"

Theo laughed and shook herself the way Coyster did when he came in from the garden. Just like her cat, she shed leaves and grass.

"How'd that meeting go?"

Asu was into the coldbox, pulling a pair of squeezewaters, calling out over her shoulder. Theo, gratefully unshod, pushed the grass and the twig she'd dutifully finger combed onto the floor toward the recycle bin with her sockfeet.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "I've been waiting for some tests and forms and stuff."

Over the whuff of the floor suction came Asu's "Hunh, guess that's something." She handed over a water tube and scrunched her nose. "Theo, will you get some antisep on that hand? That's blood!"

It
was
blood, but not much of it, and the game had still been going strong when Theo left. She'd been vaguely trying to get out for some time, but they'd been keeping it five strong all day and it seemed rude to break it just to go back to the room. If she'd had a class to go to, it would have been different. But coming off the interview and a session reciting from memory what anyone could read in the history files, each new charge at the ball had felt as necessary as the last.

"Not dripping. I'll clean it."

"So is something going to happen now? About the math?"

Chaos!

"Asu, will you let up? Didn't I say there were forms and tests and stuff? I don't
know
about the math yet."

Asu laughed. "Most days I can't stand between you and that screen in there when you get in, first thing you do is check for mail. Today . . ." The laugh came back. "You must think they're here already!"

Theo let her glance drift toward the ceiling, and sighed quietly. Sometimes Asu was just too good.

"I got the shower," she said.

Theo usually didn't take long showers, so today she did. After, she made a cup of tea and unsealed the last of the
chernubia
she'd discovered in the school store, for a quiet one-girl snack in the common area, lights low while Asu fussed about some sports thing in the other room.

Not nearly as good as the fresh ones served by a luxury cruise liner, the snack still bore a passing resemblance to something Win Ton had smiled over, and that in turn made her smile and absently adjust the wings on her collar.

And there, a second cup of tea, and she was standing with cup in hand wondering if requesting an image from Win Ton would be bad form. Not like Asu's pet athlete's image, but . . . well, maybe, actually . . . 

Asu peered into the common area, began mimicking a terminal announcer.

"Attention. Control to Pilot! Blink-blink-blink, attention, Theo!"

Asu's voice was not quite as emotionless as a good warning mode was. She waved her hands impatiently toward the desk.

"Message waiting light here, First Bunk."

Theo sighed. Sometimes it felt like things were changing too fast, and that all the messages were about her doing something
more.

She took her cup with her and slid into the seat, "I hear you, I hear you."

The incoming message was from Scout Captain Cho sig'Radia. So was the third. Theo slapped the privacy button, effectively limiting the view of the screen to someone sitting in the spot
she
sat in.

Behind her, Asu made a sound like a
harrumph
.

"Must be expecting something else from the bestboy," she hazarded as she headed for the joint room. She paused. "Aren't you?" she insisted, but Theo was already twisting her thoughts to hear Cho's voice behind the words on the screen.

You have not been at all "silly" to pass the news of your recent flight to me; indeed, it is exactly the type of news one could hope for: success in flight! Being some Standards away from a sailplane run I discover the sim a joy; I hope you will not feel overburdened with the information that I, like your academy, have been pleased to share copies with several pilots. Win Ton professes a lack of surprise in your abilities, but promises his own commentary.

Theo relaxed into the seat, nearly losing the sight circle of the screen when she did. Then she sat straight up.

He hadn't been joking, she thought. If Win Ton's packet had gotten to her before Cho's message, he
must
have sent it immediately, by courier! Someone, some pilot,
had
been standing by, on her account!

Too,
Cho went on,
you have followed the forms precisely. I need to know these things not only for the reinforcement of my judgment on your ability, but that we make no errors in dealing with your future.

My role as sponsor requires that I take an active interest in the affairs financial attending your schooling, and in this case, with only a small and not unseemly amount of prompting, your academy and I have reached an accord on the value of your lessons for the school, and for yourself.

Following in a short while will be the contracts I have entered into on your behalf, as well as a document transferring practical control of the finances accruing to you from income derived from various uses, transformations, and recordings of your flight. Pardon that these are dry and filled with complexities well beyond the complexities of piloting equations, but such are Liaden contracts, as you will no doubt be told many times in your career. For your enjoyment, the contract in Liaden is appended to the Trade version. In short form, we have arranged for your earnings to be set against your expenses, with a 25 percent share coming direct to your spending account until all expenses are met. Please follow the instructions about passwords, account controls, and the like exactly. Once accessed the account becomes yours.

Theo leaned toward the screen.
Contracts
?

I have passed a copy of the sim to your mother in the hopes the pilot who trained you may see it, and rejoice in your flight.

Oh no! Kamele would not be happy. Surely, Father would—

The letters on the screen blurred slightly.

Father would do as he always did, and use his own judgment. Given that Kamele'd spent a lifetime in ignorance of his piloting, as had Theo, she hoped he'd explain the sim appropriately.

Good lift and safe landing, Pilot.

I remain

Cho sig'Radia, sponsor

The bluebells are doing well this season,
Aelliana said, her voice seeming to come from just behind his left shoulder.
Theo will be pleased.

A connoisseur of formal gardens might have commented that the bluebells danced the dagger's edge between "doing well" and "overexuberant." Aelliana, however, did not admire strict order in a garden. Nor did he.

And the bluebells were Theo's favorites, after all.

"We must remember to send her a picture," he murmured. From his right came the creak and smack of the garden door opening. Kamele was home from her meeting early.

"Jen Sar!" she called, her footsteps quick on the path.

He turned, smiling as she came into sight, her hair rumpled and her cheeks pink with hurry. She had a small blue envelope from Data Receiving and a folded printout in one hand; the paper fluttered as she walked.

"Don't you look the picture of indolence," she murmured, bending to kiss him on the cheek. "Grading examinations, indeed!"

"Indolence is pictured thus: The honored professor lying on the grass, his venerable head supported by a kindly and compliant friend, and the second bottle uncorked," he returned, smiling up at her. "Here you see the professor taking a rejuvenating turn in the garden before returning to his labors."

"Of course I do," she said, and shook her head in mock irritation. "
Compliant
."

"Also
kindly
," he pointed out.

"That's very true." She nodded gravely, though her eyes were sparkling. "Silver-tongue."

"It has," he acknowledged mournfully, "been a lifelong affliction."