Saltation (29 page)

"Sit. I serve. You talk about rumors. Clear?"

Asu took the proffered cup, sipped, and sat as Theo brought the meal to the table.

"You know there's been some disquiet among the local Terran population; they have some grievances that they feel aren't being addressed, and they're starting to take action. I tried to introduce you, remember, and bring you along to some of their events, so you could meet people and they could get used to you, see that you weren't a threat?"

Theo sipped. Since they'd moved out of Erkes, it was true that Asu was always trying to drag her off to parties where she promised Theo would meet "interesting people," but—

"You're always
too busy
. And now look! Things are going to happen—everybody says so. Even some of the instructors are dropping hints that the school's changing direction, soon—and your name keeps coming up when students talk. The local kids think I'm local since I'm not into DCCT. They want to know why I'm still rooming with you when I had a chance to change things when we moved out and got the double together."

"But," Theo began as her hands said
stay course, Pilot,
"there wasn't any reason to change, I mean . . ."

"See, even there! Theo, you want to go to hand-talk all the time. You double-talk, hands and words at the same time. You started off bad in math and now you're doing special labs and
teaching
special labs. You get extra flight time—look at yos'Senchul having you haul him up to the little port! So what happens is that with all the political things and the social stuff where you aren't hanging around with your class, but always bucking for more work and more time and . . ." Asu shook her hands—not finger-talk, but simple frustration.

"I don't think you're deliberately trying to upstage the locals, Theo. I think you're just plain
not paying attention to life and to society
. It shows up all the time. You miss parties because you have work to do. You don't socialize nearly as much as most of us. You miss DCCT stuff, too, I guess, because your Kara is half the time calling here to see if I can roust you from your studies."

Theo took a deep breath, and put her teacup on the table.

"Asu, I'm not here to party. I'm here to be a pilot. And the DCCT people, some of them come from ships, or they've lived their life in trade families. Look at
you
; you have a tradeship named after you!"

Asu sat back, blushing.

"I didn't know you knew."

Theo suppressed the hand gesture
read the ship lists
and said with exasperation, "Why wouldn't I know? I've been reading job postings the last two semesters, for practice. You're going to have a spot to go to when you get out. But my family doesn't have ten tradeships to rub together in one port, and I can't make a living scraping my way up the teaching wall. As a pilot, I am what I am. I can do the math or I can't. I can handle the docking or I can't. When I get out of here, I'm going to be the best pilot I can be!

"This other stuff, the rumors here—I'm only going to worry about them if they get in my way. I don't have the energy for this superiority game. If the locals want to be better than I am, or better than DCCT, then all they have to do is the work!"

Asu squinched her eyes together, hard. When she opened them they looked watery.

"Theo, I'm in a spot. I keep telling people you're really not a bad person.
I tell them that
. I tell them that you're just really busy.
I tell them that
. What am I going to tell them now—that all the rumors about my roomie being a spy and a provocateur are wrong?
I tried telling them that.
"

Asu thunked her cup down hard.

"And they say that nobody's as good as you are. That you have to have help—outworld help. They say that you're part of a Liaden plot to take over Eylot and take over the rights of the local Terrans. And that—is crack-brained, frankly. I mean, if you're too busy to go to a class tea, when would you find the time to be an agent provocateur?" Asu shook her head. "They don't know that, though. They don't know
you
, and that's what makes it easy to set you up as a target."

Theo stared. "Asu—"

"I think you need to talk to the health people about your stress levels. I really do. And if you won't, you'll be looking for a new roomie for next year, because I have to live here too, and I am not superior to everyone else, and I do not live only for space, and I won't be lumped in with somebody that everybody else thinks is a threat."

Theo pushed her empty cup away.

Theo let her hands say
always have a backup plan
. "I see," she said quietly. "Thank you. I'll put in for space at DCCT next year."

Asu was gone.

Always have a backup plan
.

Staring at the table, at the uneaten meal, Theo realized that she'd never really
had
a backup plan when it came to next session, or even to what she'd do over the break. She'd
one
plan: to graduate, and graduate as soon as she could, with the highest-graded license she could earn. She'd known that she would have a spot at Hugglelans, since she was already on their lists; she'd known she'd have Asu in the other bunk; she knew—well, but it turned out she didn't know.

Theo sat looking at the remains of the maize buttons, then rose and swept them and the rest into recycling and headed for her own room.

Plans. Choices. Somehow that reminded her of Father and the time he'd pointed out the folly of her trying to stay with him instead of moving to the Wall with Kamele.

"To what extent are you willing to fund this choice? How much sorrow are you willing to cause?"

And now, someone seemed to be asking the same kind of question again, but this time she was able to "fund" the choice.

Funding. When she was a kid she'd thought Father had simply meant how would she pay for her school supplies. But that wasn't all he meant, after all, and she knew that now. She had funded her choice through hard work. She'd come here, she'd fought her way through math courses, through red tape and through her own misconceptions. She'd fought with some people and made friends with others. She had, she thought, some allies. People who wished her well, who would help her, and whom she would help, in turn.

She was prepared to live with her decision, and if Asu couldn't live with Theo, then Asu was making a decision. Her decision. Theo hadn't come to the academy to be Asu: she'd come to be Theo.

Father's way of making choices was very advertent; and now she had to be advertent, too. If she was making people here in the main quad uncomfortable because she was more pilot than student—that seemed to be Asu's complaint, that Theo was doing too much and not being social enough—then she'd move to someplace where pilot and self-directed was more common—she'd see if there was room at DCCT. Last year Kara had mentioned the possibility, but she'd stuck with Asu, since they had come to the academy at the same time and they had managed to reach a certain comfort level. And there, did Asu really understand how much Theo'd put up with along the way? Did she?

Choice. Pilot's choice even.
Stay your course
, her hands counseled.
Stay your course.

She danced a few moves, thought about lace, thought about Asu and her always going on about her boyfriends and her constant questions about Theo's weekends and about Win Ton. Thinking about Win Ton, what message could she send to him about this? Was it even important? He had work, work that was important to him, and needn't be concerned with the ways of students . . . 

She touched Win Ton's gift, as if she would ask its advice. It felt good in her hand, and she was soothed. No, she decided. Win Ton didn't—couldn't—share with her the daily burdens of ship life and crew mates. There was no reason to write to him of this.

Advertency suggested she finish at least some of the studying in queue. There'd be time, later, to work out the details of next year's life.

She checked her pockets, which she did once or twice a day. And now, there it was, a gun. And three knives—although one would about slice maize buttons—and several disinfectant tubes and a small lace project wrapped in fine cloth and keys, and her key with pilot times on it, and the backup key, certified this morning as she and yos'Senchul passed through Ops, so it was up-to-date, and the suddenly comforting slickness of the Guild card reminding her that someone nearby
did
understand what she was doing, even if it was a norbear with near transparent fur, and then, the comm was in her hand, with Kara's account at the top of the list. A wave, and the comm was on; a click and it was answered.

"Hello," came Kara's voice, sounding young and a little silly, "you've reached my private backup message router at the ven'Arith residence. Your message is bouncing around the planet while it tries to find me. Please be patient because I'm probably bouncing around the planet, too."

Backup message router at her house?
She'd never gotten that message before. Theo smiled. Maybe Kara was too busy with someone to answer the comm and didn't want to make promises. Not everyone had to be
arguing
this evening, after all.

Theo could bring no urgency to the studying she'd been trying to do. The energy she'd built up after talking with Asu was still there, still needing an outlet, and unrolling the lace had done nothing for her. She kept seeing star patterns, which reminded her that she needed to get Anlingdin Academy behind her, which meant getting organized for next year, which meant having an idea of where she was going be sleeping, which meant studying and having a plan which meant calming herself so she could . . . 

She shook herself, realizing that she knew this pattern. In his best Jen-Sar-the-Professor mode, Father had pronounced this kind of thinking
circular logic
. His prescription for disrupting such damaging circularity was play or exercise. Theo didn't feel much like playing right now, which was why she was out on the campus in the dark, walking, walking, walking.

The academy at night was nothing new to her; she liked to be out alone, and the paths were old friends. She was used to hearing sounds from the airfield, but tonight there wasn't much going on there. Sometimes she could hear things happening at the stadium, but there wasn't much down that way tonight, either. There were people out: groups, couples, in the usual pathways, some more willing than others to be seen.

She had done the first of her usual routes, avoiding DCCT at first and skirting the field: she'd seen yos'Senchul's craft, and the shuttle being readied, and the usual evening maintenance crews on the tarmac. There were a few more people near the field; and there, a ten- or twelve-passenger airjet flowed overhead, banking into the landing pattern . . . out beyond her view momentarily and . . . it was funny the way she could visualize what the pilot had to be doing, how she must be
here
looking to the west and the beacon,
here
checking for visual hazards on the runway,
here
dropping the gear . . . 

The breeze was stronger than she'd expected, or the pilot very casual by the way the ship crabbed in, but then, it was down and running to the end pads.

She didn't want company, wondered if there'd been some great sport victory for the school earlier in the day, because that was the usual cause for group celebrations, but there, she didn't pay a lot of attention to such social things.

"Aliens," someone on the path ahead of her was saying. "I mean, in a lot of ways they're more alien than Clutch turtles or norbears or anything nixty like that, because, I mean, because
they look like us
. Like—"

"Parasites. That's the word you want. Like energy thieves. They come in here and make it hard for us natives to get through school, they make the grading harder, they . . ."

Theo made a face. Must be some more of the new kids. The new kids always complained about how hard school was. She took a light left, veering onto one of the lesser paths, toward DCCT. She walked quietly now, listening, feeling like there was movement going on around her, and with the night so busy there might well be a chance couple or two leaning against trees or . . . 

More people, talking low, somewhere ahead of her on the path.

"We've got be sure we let them know that this isn't just us, though. We all heard the news clips, we saw the charts, and there's been things going on for a while—this isn't, you know,
personal
, but we've—"

"Don't worry about. It's on the school channels, it's on the local channels. So we know something will be announced for first shift . . ."

Channels. Announcement.
Now what? She hadn't caught up with the regular news, and wondered if she'd missed something urgent. She continued slowly on the path, knowing there was a cul-de-sac a little ahead. There, she could see a group in the dimness, moving in a bunch onto the path she was following.

"Anyway, they sent us the chant, so we can start it off right. And once we do, we're supposed to make noise until they come out and see the signs. We're already calling all their comms and keeping them busy."

Theo felt her energy level rise, and she could see someone in the group ahead of her waving something experimentally. They were going somewhere to make trouble, and the only thing out this way was DCCT.

The thing that was being waved suddenly burst into the brilliant actinic flare of an emergency wand. Patently something only to be used in time of dire distress, it cast tremendous shadows and Theo squinted against it, trying to see DCCT's building as something other than a mysterious blob hidden by great trees.

"Not yet!" someone yelled, too late, as other flares took fire and illuminated words glowed in the air:
Natives First! Solve Now!

There was a rush from behind her, and a curse and someone saying, "They started without us!" and some cheers, and a general buzz of excitement and energy filled the land, and more of the lights flared. Theo stepped toward the now-empty side path and then a face she almost recognized ran by, paused, and yelled, "Watch out, it's Waitley!"