Saltation (19 page)

"My thanks." Win Ton stepped inside, brown eyes flicking to Chelly, who gave him a matter-of-fact nod.

"Chelly Frosher, Pilot Admin trainee." He paused, and added, thoughtfully. "Friend of Theo's."

"I am pleased to meet you, Admin Frosher," Win Ton assured him gravely.

He turned slightly, and Theo felt her stomach tighten, which was silly. This was
Win Ton
, not some stranger, or—

"Pilot yo'Vala!" Asu said, sharply.

Win Ton's eyebrows rose, and he turned, perhaps faster than he had intended. Asu went back a step, and he became very still, hands belt high, palms out, fingers spread in the sign for
no threat
.

"I was wondering," Asu said, sounding breathless, "if it is in fact yourself who taught Theo to play bowli ball." She tossed her head and smiled, nervously to Theo's eye. "She's coy with names, our Theo."

"Ah, is she?" He sent a quick look to Theo, the corner of his mouth tight with the effort of holding the laugh in. "Shall I reveal all?"

Theo felt her cheeks heat, but she met his eyes firmly.
"All?"

He flung a hand up, as if in surrender. "No, you are correct! Word might yet reach my captain! But, to answer Pilot Trainee diamon Dayez—in fact, I was one of three pilots who introduced Theo to the joys of bowli ball. As you know, the best game can be had with a foursome, and the other pilots must need work around their shifts, so we did not play as often as any of us would have preferred."

There was a small silence, broken at last by Chelly. "Theo learned to play bowli ball from a Scout and two working pilots."

"Indeed." Win Ton turned, gently, to face him. "It would hardly have done to allow her to play with the passengers."

"Make that, a Scout and two
cruise line
pilots," Chelly added, and laughed softly. He shook his head at Theo. "No wonder you got an attitude problem, Waitley."

"I don't
have
an attitude problem," Theo told him, but Chelly only laughed again.

"Who here has not had their temper fail them?" Win Ton asked, possibly rhetorically. "Theo, are you hungry?"

"Yes," she said, though she wasn't, exactly.

"Then we are well-met, and well-matched! I am famished. As I am in receipt of the coords to a
binjali
restaurant, perhaps you will join me for dinner?"

Light spilled from the ship's at-rest lights, casting a circle that faded from ruby to pink along the tarmac. Walking at Win Ton's side, Theo crossed that magic circle and tried not to stare around while he spoke with the security team.

"This pilot and I will be lifting to coords provided by Master Pilot yos'Senchul very shortly. Thank you for your care of my ship."

"That's all right, Pilot," one of the two answered, both saluting with a snap. "Will you be returning?"

"This evening, yes. We will, of course, file with the Tower."

It was said gently enough, but the guards seemed to take it as a rebuke or setdown. Another pair of salutes and they were gone, marching briskly down toward Ops while Theo followed Win Ton up the ramp and into the ship.

The lights came up as they entered the piloting chamber, Theo walking as lightly as she could, as if she would bruise the ship if she set her feet too firmly. It seemed as if Win Ton had forgotten her; he walked to the board, leaned over and touched a rapid sequence of keys and toggles. The ship woke with a soft, welcoming chime. He turned and gave her a smile as bright as the one she remembered.

"Hovering at the door? But that will never do! Come, you must sit second for me!"

Theo stared at him, suspecting a joke at her expense. "I can't sit second on a spaceship," she stammered. "I don't have the hours, or—"

"Tut and tut, Sweet Mystery!" He came back and took her hand. His fingers were warm, patterned with callus.

"The pilot has asked you to sit second," he said, looking into her face with all of Win Ton's mischief. "It is, of course, a signal honor."

"Well, it is," she answered, defensively, but she let him lead her over to the second chair and show her how to adjust it, and where the webbing was. She tried to relax while he settled into the pilot's chair, her eyes drawn to the board, and something like . . . hunger in her middle . . . 

"Now," Win Ton said calmly, his fingers dancing on a touchpad. "The pilot would take it kindly if Pilot Waitley would ride comm, and clear us with the tower. Coords—"

"Win Ton," Theo's voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again, watching the side of his face, seeing concentration and . . . something else. "Win Ton."

He glanced up, eyes soft with concentration. "Yes?"

"What are you doing?" she asked carefully, twisting her hands together on her lap so she wouldn't reach out and touch that tantalizing board, though she wanted to!

His gaze sharpened somewhat. "I am offering opportunity," he said, his tone precisely as careful as hers. "Will you grasp it? Or will you be shy and orderly?"

She knew better than to take a dare . . . well, mostly she did. But, that board . . . She swallowed and nodded, leaning forward.

"Comm is lit yellow," he said quietly. "The rest of the board is slaved to mine, so you may follow, if you like."

"Yeah . . ." she whispered, and raised a hand to finger the yellow toggles.

"Tower, this is Theo Waitley, sitting second on
Torvin
." She paused, glancing to the amused Scout, who signaled
there now
, and her screen lit with ship numbers and info in proper sequence for her to read out, which she did, adding, "Out of, Solcintra, Liad, local berth Number 9F.
Torvin
's pilot requests a tow to a launch pad at your earliest convenience."

There was a moment of perhaps shocked silence, then a voice she didn't know answered calmly in the affirmative. "Acknowledge, there,
Torvin
, we see ship systems coming live. We'll call out the horses and camels now, if you can wait that long."

Theo was grinning like a fool, and only part of that was the joke and Win Ton's resultant raised eyebrows.

"Where are we going? By way of where?"

"Very good, Second!" Win Ton said. The info flowed to her screen and she recognized the sequence out of class a few days before, catching her breath, and then laughing.

"Ballistic? That's some g-work, isn't it?" She must have whispered because Win Ton half-bowed, and whispered in reply, "Yes, it is."

He continued in a more normal voice, "Watch the screens: is that a camel or a horse? And what is funny, Sweet Mystery?"

They'd brought round the tractor that towed the shuttle, and as she watched, Win Ton enumerated the camera views, showing her how to change them. She paid scrupulous attention, saying, "That must be the camel, that's the one they only use on spacecraft. And what's funny is the ballistic routing. Asu told me, before you knocked, that everyone knew you were still on port because there hadn't been an outgoing sonic boom!"

She glanced at him, saw him manfully straighten the smile off his face.

"Ah, did she? Then her reputation is mine to save. Please note these amendments, and file the corrected figures when queried."

They felt the tow start as Win Ton went over radio and feed sequence with her, bailout sequence, and how to set vessel on autoland. With each quick lesson he looked at her, and it was hard not to keep looking at him, except she had to show that she'd heard by using the keys on her quiet board.

The tractor pulled free, and tower's voice was live:

"
Torvin
, your flight plan will be accepted by link, since we're getting good feed, please file, and we'll acknowledge."

Theo glanced at Win Ton.

"It is good form to strap in before liftoff," he said conversationally, "and please, file the plan."

Theo touched the send switch and yanked the strap. It was clear they were in the tower's eye, because the response was instant, and she couldn't hit the acknowledge switch right back, because she was tangled in lap strap.

"Be sure to file intentions with your destination,
Torvin
. You may lift at will after your launch signal. Enjoy dinner!"

"Send the duplicate routing on, Second, and we will . . ."

Theo did that as Win Ton seemed to go half quiet before saying, ". . . please Asu diamon Dayez, no doubt."

The klaxon sounded tinny through the ship's outside ears.

"Now," Win Ton said, and engaged lift.

By the time they'd set down at the field by Howsenda Hugglelans, with Theo riding comm, her head felt like it was in . . . some other place; like it wasn't directly attached to the rest of her body. She'd followed the board lights, listening to Win Ton's soft-voiced explanation of what he was doing, interrupting only once, with a question.

"How do I get to do this?"

"This? Become a Scout?"

"No—fly this."

"Ah!" He'd laughed, softly. "Much less difficult! Courier pilots need only be first class, with a demonstrated willingness to fly like a lunatic on any occasion." Her attention on the board, she'd felt, rather than seen him grin at her. "You would do well, I think."

"I think so, too," she'd answered, and lapsed again into rapt silence.

Hull cool, they exited
Torvin
.

Win Ton offered an arm and she leaned on that, grateful for the support as they approached the desk.

A familiar-looking man in a sleeveless vest met them, with a grin and a nod to Theo.

"You return!" said the waiter who wore too much
vya
. "And this time, you have forgotten your aunt! Very good, Pilot. A terrace table for you and your . . . friend?"

"Yes," Theo said, straightening, but keeping a firm grip on Win Ton's arm. "Please."

They followed him up the ramps and let him seat them together on a cushioned bench by a secluded table overlooking the field. Win Ton laughed softly as they were momentarily left alone.

"You are known everywhere, Theo Waitley! And rightly admired."

She shook her head at him. "I was here a while ago with Pilot yos'Senchul and Veradantha. Happens we had the same server—luck, is all."

"Indeed," Win Ton said with a grin. "Luck." He leaned forward and touched her hand. "Now that the fascination of lift has evaporated, tell me of yourself."

"There's not much to tell," she protested, "outside of what I've been writing to you."

"Ah. Then tell me this: Why does Admin Frosher claim you for an attitude problem?"

"Oh, that," Theo said, as their server came back with the requested tea.

"Service, Pilots?"

"Today's special," Theo and Win Ton said simultaneously—and laughed in the same heartbeat.

Their server smiled. "Today's special, it is. A moment while I gather what is needful."

"Now," Win Ton said, "tell me."

So, over tea and befores, she told him. Win Ton was a good listener, asking questions only when she'd gotten off track; willing to wait while she sorted out her narrative. When she got to the part about Wilsmyth jigging her flight time he said something sharp in what she guessed was Liaden, though it wasn't in the lexicon she was laboriously sleep-learning, with Veradantha's permission.

"Where did he strike you?" he asked.

Theo raised her hand to her head. "It's healed now."

"Let me see, if I may?" He smoothed her hair back from the place; she shivered at the touch of his fingers, even as she leaned into it.

"So soft, like sea mist . . ." His breath was warm against her temple; his lips were gentle against the place where the cut had been.

Theo closed her eyes, feeling a not-entirely-unpleasant roiling in her stomach.

"Yes," Win Ton murmured. "It has healed without a scar." He kissed the place again, and Theo reached—

"Will it please you to have dinner now, Pilots?" their server asked, amusement lacing his voice.

Win Ton eased back and considered him before looking to Theo. "Pilot?"

She sighed, and met the server's interested gaze. "Yes," she said levelly. "Dinner would be most welcome."

"So," she ventured, after they had been served. "Now that you've heard my boring news, don't I get to hear yours?"

"That would appear to be a fair trade," Win Ton agreed slowly, and from the depths of an apparent minute study of the table's centerpiece. His shoulders rose as if he had taken an especially deep breath, and he raised his head, meeting her eyes with a startling degree of seriousness.

"Alas," he said, and she could hear him making the effort to keep his voice light, as if he were telling a joke. "My news is even more tedious than your own." He extended his hand to touch hers where it lay on the table next to her teacup.

She didn't look down, but met his eyes, and tried to keep her voice light, too.

"A star pilot trumped by a student's tales out of school? Hard to believe."

He laughed, low in his throat. "Yes, but what could be more tedious than to learn that one's clan has finally found a use for one?"

She blinked. "They're calling you home?"
But
, she thought,
he's a pilot! What would he do at home, if—

"For a short time only," Win Ton's voice interrupted these unsettling thoughts. His fingers tightened over hers. "My delm has decreed that I'm to wed, Theo. On Liad."

"Wed?" She blinked at him. "But you joined the Scouts so you didn't have to be on Liad."

He laughed, not happily. "No, I was given to the Scouts because I was more trouble to my honored kin than my then-current worth. But alliance is alliance, and unless I wish to stand
eklykt'i
—which I assure you that I do not!—I shall make my bow to duty." He looked at her earnestly. "You understand that it is merely a contract marriage, and after—" His face lost some of its tension and the grin he gave her was very nearly his usual mischievous expression. "After," he said, "I shall be free to do real work."

"Real work," Theo repeated. "Aren't you doing real work now?"

He lifted his hand from hers and made a short gesture of dismissal. "It is real, but—not preferred. My goal had always been to be part of a survey team. My duty to the clan done, I may embrace it—I hold the word of my delm on the matter! So . . ." He raised his teacup, as if he offered a toast. "Let us put that topic behind us, if you please, and speak of pleasanter things."