- Prologue

by Sharon Lee

  "New contract, huh? You got yourself a Liaden writing those things now?"

  Mayko scolded Rig with severe fingers: serious talk no joke read close consider.

  Nodding to Theo and then to Tranza, she said, "I think you'll both enjoy the new compensation package we are offering pilots with in-house experience, which of course you'll both qualify for. We do also expect to be hiring from outside, naturally.

  "As to the rest of the business, Second Class Pilot Theo Waitley, in my capacity as a master pilot, I am here on the very ship where I earned my own first class card to test you for first class. I have flown several of your trips from log records . . ."

  Theo felt a strange feeling in her stomach, like she'd just found a gravity vary while walking a gangway. First class! She glanced over to Tranza, who was looking elsewhere, and then grinned.

  "In my contract, see," he said. "I assumed you'd earned a first class a few trips ago, but it pays to have someone fresh take a look, to be sure. You've seen my basic evals, Theo."

  Well, and she had. Adequate and alert ship handling planetary. Adequate and alert ship handling docking. Adequate and alert ship maintenance procedures. Adequate . . .

  "Adequate. That's what you said on the last three reports I saw. Adequate! Nothing about me being ready for . . ."

  True course, he signed. "Right. Right. And if you looked you may have noticed 'conservative piloting for a pilot at this stage of career and training.' You weren't pushing so I wasn't going to push you."

  "I thought that meant I needed work."

  Her voice was low, and she felt the dance start to move, which brought Tranza immediately to attention.

  "No, the alert part, and the conservative part, they're both good. The last three trips have you on command more than me and the trips would have been fine without me at all. Haven't you noticed how often you've signed for us?"

  She nodded vigorously.

  "I did. I thought that just meant I was doing my job."

  A wave of hands from Mayko communicate communicate good, and she continued as she finished her coffee.

  "So, time has not been adequate even if your piloting may be; these circumstances have kept the whole of my staff very busy. Theo, understand my time on this trip will be spent observing you more than testing; the real test for you has been putting up with the lessons and the cooking of Rig Tranza. And understand that 'adequate' from Rig is a rare and considered thing when it comes to young pilots. Didn't he work you scrubbing the deck and counting spares?"

  Theo laughed despite herself. "And double-checking the food lockers for both catalog number and actual count."

  "See, always check invoice against items! We share a lesson."

  Mayko's hands moved to say finish this session and she leaned forward.

  "So, the rest of this run is yours. Rig will have a holiday of sorts—he has new music, and he has been some time without vacation or proper leave. I am available to sit second at any moment, and at any moment I may ask for analysis of decision points. Calculations, your choice of beverage—anything. Do you understand?"

  Something tickled the back of her mind. She nodded so gravely that it was almost a bow.

  "Yes," she said, "I understand. The usual rules apply."

  Thirty-Five

  Primadonna

  In Transit

  Theo's hands were damp with sweat and her main computer was at least four screens deep on each of nine viewtops. She knew where things were but her astrogation instructor would have disowned her. Tranza was sitting back with his music, smiling.

  She looked again at the screens, saw the solution, and began archiving like mad.

  Let him laugh, Theo thought, he's got his jacket.

  They'd got to Jump distance with no problems, a comfortable meal in their stomachs and her pair of companions only breaking into song three times in response to conversational cues Theo hadn't known were cues at all.

  The thing was that after dinner, Theo began a mild stretching routine, letting it ratchet up to a little more of a workout so that she'd be done before they needed to get to actual work, like to a spot where Theo ought to soon be setting up for a Jump run or determining Primadonna's long term orbit.

  In the midst of that exercise, Mayko handed over the ship's run. Well, not exactly. What she did was hand over a list of places she needed to be within a more-or-less set time frame, with a bonus load of interdependent priorities, and a request that sooner would be better in all cases. All of the prefiled destinations were included, and a couple more.

  "Pilot Theo, these are the needs of the company," Mayko had said innocuously. "As the board is yours, this is clearly a pilot's choice situation. I think it best that we be outsystem in the next quarter shift."

  Which would not have been Theo's usual choice with such a multiplicity of routes available, but if the ship was hers for the duration of the run—well, that clarified things immensely. Part of this was to push her, she knew. Part was real need. Mayko had said that Hugglelans needed to move in a hurry, while trade was still confused.

  But there, the information was already gathered, the decision point just lacked confirmation.

  "Mix and match?" she asked. "All of the destinations in the same run, priority fast and efficient?"

  "Indeed, that would be best," Mayko allowed.

  Theo nodded, raised her voice.

  "First Board declares Jump check. Tranza, please secure the galley and confirm tie-downs, locks, goods and staterooms. The count to start our runout is two hundred, starting in seven."

  "Right," he said and moved.

  Next to her Mayko raised an eyebrow, began to speak, was overridden by Theo.

  "Second, your main screen should match mine. Confirm Volmer coordinates, confirm ship safety, confirm scans."

  Theo glanced toward the seat Tranza left empty in his rush; then toward Mayko, hands deftly touching the manual confirms on the automatics, readouts being echoed.

  "Our route?" Mayko inquired, laughing as Tranza burst into song while he made some final seal in the galley, and dashed onto the flight deck.

  "Volmer," Theo stated succinctly. "The coordinates are in, the ship is rigged, and there's eight flight plans ready to go once we get there. Volmer's closest in transit time, Volmer's in the priority loop, and Volmer it is."

  Mayko opened her mouth again, but was cut off by Tranza's, "Confirming secure, Pilot Theo."

  "Confirmed."

  "But the route?" Mayko insisted.

  Theo sighed.

  "Unless this is a touch-and-go when we get to Volmer, we'd best calculate fresh when we have fresh news. I'll set two probables into the go-stack in case we need to move in a hurry, but we're set. We have a count of one hundred; I'll start the Jump on count."

  "But my plans?"

  "Your plans are to get there as quick as you can. We'll do that. Can't make the second Jump first though. Confirmation please, Second."

  Tranza began to whistle a tune, and Mayko, studying the second board, joined in.

  "Confirmed, Pilot Theo."

  At this rate, they'd be out of the system in a tenth shift instead of a quarter, Theo thought, and that would do.

  Theo lounged in the galley, eyes closed. On bridge, Tranza sat in the vacated First Chair, while Mayko retained Second.

  "Pilot," came Mayko's call from the flight deck, "have you signed the contract yet? It would be good to—"

  "I haven't," Theo admitted, "opened the file yet. Contracts are much harder for me than doing Jump equations in my head. I'll get six hours real downtime—at least—when we reach Volmer and look it over then."

  "Pilot, when we reach Volmer we may want that done already in order to confirm—"

  Somebody was pushing, Theo thought, around a spike of irritation. Did Mayko think she was going to lose the contract, or something?

  "Sorry, Second," she said, "I'm on break unless there's a ship problem." She paused, counted to twelve, and asked, "Is there a ship problem?"

/>   There was muttering in the background, Theo thought, and then realized it was Tranza singing one of his silly song snippets, something about "the ship Jonny B."

  "Rig, you're not helping!"

  Theo waited a beat, then repeated her question.

  "Is there a ship problem, flight deck?"

  Again she could hear Tranza, this time singing something that sounded like "We had enough cooks for an army, and only one can of . . ."

  "No, Pilot," came the reluctant reply, "there is not a ship problem."

  "Right, Theo," Tranza confirmed. "None."

  * * *

  "Primadonna, we've got all green for you, welcome. Please inspect your tie-down and sign for it at the gate; we're showing this a field stop charged to Hugglelans Galactic. You've got a cart on the way and a hot pad available for a turnaround tomorrow at this time."

  "Thanks for the welcome—and for the cart."

  "Cart comes gratis. Can we get our updates here on channels seven and nine?"

  Theo keyed in the channels and the updates went through, showing Pilot in Command as Theo Waitley and dual seconds of Rig Tranza, Captain, and Master Pilot Mayko Ikari.

  "Hey there, Primadonna," came another voice, this one full of energy. "We're holding high priority mail we can squirt through as soon as we get the certificates to talk to each other. One's a problem 'cause it's a special, may take a little time for that to finish up."

  Problem mail?

  Theo shrugged; she wasn't in a particular hurry to look at chained landing gear.

  The trip to Volmer had gone without a ship problem, though Mayko managed to dredge up a fire alarm, two false positives on engine issues, a technical question on ship's financials, assorted runs of "what would you do if" and a really silly multilanguage drinking song that Tranza wouldn't stop humming once Mayko sang the first three verses.

  Other than that—

  The incoming screen lit, showing the Pilots Guild emblem.

  "We have a private and confidential file for Pilot Theo Waitley, transcription through Pilots Guild encryption format. You'll need your card and certificate for this, and receive in person in the comm office."

  "Theo," Mayko was saying, "we need to talk about the contract . . ."

  "Right, you do," said Tranza, then saw the symbol on the screen.

  "I'll do tie-down, Theo" he said, suddenly all business. "Go!"

  She went.

  Finding the comm office was easy once she parked the cart and entered the Guild port area; what was hard was keeping herself calm as the rest of the process unfolded. A pinbeam message? For her? She'd never sent a pinbeam in her life and couldn't think of anyone she knew who'd send one, especially to her. Could something have happened to Father or to Kamele? Had Captain Cho and the Scouts decided to bill her for her failed education?

  The Guild staffer checked her card, checked her against her card, checked her against the ship schedule, checked—she didn't know what they checked.

  "RSVP," said the clerk neutrally. "That's free, well—prepaid. There's a return receipt that'll go as soon as you open it. You can take it in booth four; please record because we erase as it streams. You can send your reply any time within seventy-two Terran hours of receipt."

  In the booth she inserted her card one more time, tagged her key to the connecting port, saw a series of letters go by and a warning that reading the following message without authorization was a breach of pilot ethics and . . .

  Sweet Mystery, began the text, you are an amazement beyond measure. Kara ven'Arith supplies me with the start of my search and a history worthy of a dancer such as yourself. I commend you. The Pilots Guild supplies me with the filed plans of the good ship Primadonna, and thus you are found.

  She took a breath, finally realizing she'd been holding it. Win Ton. Win Ton! Oh, what could be—

  It is of utmost importance, my favorite dancer, that we meet together in person in the shortest possible time. I am prepared to meet you at any location you name, at Volmer if you like, to rendezvous on planet or station, to provide tickets for transportation from your current location to mine. Only tell me as soon as you may, I humbly beg of you, that you have received this message in good order and that you intend to be in touch with me in person, who gave you your first bowli ball. As friend and as pilot I swear that this is a necessary interruption of your life, and one that will not be forgotten.

  There were so many hooks here, so many memories for someone she'd only spent a few days with, and a night.

  I am and remain your friend and servant,

  Win Ton yo'Vala

  There followed a series of addresses she might reply to, starting with the autoreply and progressing four deep into what looked like port drop boxes in places he might expect to get to, including Solcintra, Liad.

  She reread the message, from her own key, once it disappeared from the screen, and recalled that she still had copies of every message he'd ever sent.

  She sighed, stood, stared at the empty screen. Maybe she could arrange to meet him at their next port, or something. She should answer him, quickly. Soon.

  Yes, she should.

  She danced a step to unkink her shoulder, and thoughtfully returned to Primadonna.

  She felt that her arrival on-board had interrupted something. Tranza and Mayko lounged in the galley, hands moving energetically. She was good, but these two threw hand-signs fast as Jump, partial thoughts flying and being cut off by others, shared experience telling in the jabs and spikes of the motions, in the words left out.

  Prominent in the first sighting had been Theo and also pilot today now; but as soon as she was evident Tranza folded his hands and lapsed into a sweetly sung song of conquest and pillage.

  Mayko glared at him, and nodded to her.

  "The pilot returns to us, sooner rather than later, which is always good in a pilot on port. As you are present, we shall move on to topics left off in midflight."

  Theo nodded, pleased that Mayko hadn't asked about her message, and grabbed one of the trayful of landing-pastries on the table.

  "We were discussing, right," Tranza broke in, "we were discussing the flight. A fine flight."

  Mayko sniffed. She stood, smooth and graceful, deliberately turning away from Tranza, and giving Theo an easy nod.

  "As Rig says, we were discussing the flight. It appears that Aito was correct, and despite your run-ins with academic authority in the past, you are exactly the kind of pilot that Hugglelans—especially Hugglelans Galactic—wishes to employ. I would like to insure that we are of a mind on this, and so I ask if you might, now that we are at Volmer, open your contract and sign it."

  Win Ton. Somehow Theo kept seeing Win Ton's name on the screen and recalled his name as written on the card she'd gotten on Vashtara.

  "I haven't read it yet," she said. "If I might have a few moments to look it over?"

  Mayko smiled prettily. "It's our standard. We can sign it right now, then move on to—"

  "No. Right? No."

  Tranza stood, making himself the third point in the triangle of pilots.

  "I beg your pardon," began Mayko.

  "Beg Theo's, right? You're doing it again. Trying to make the second Jump before the first."

  Mayko straightened, mouth firming.

  "All we need to do is settle the issue of a contract," she said, with what Theo thought was strained patience. "Once that is taken care of, we can . . ."

  "Wait, right? Just wait."

  Tranza broke from the triangle and dashed to his quarters. He slapped the door open, exclaiming, "Right, just wait!"

  Mayko appeared as startled as Theo felt, especially when he backed out of the room a moment later, his pilot's jacket in his hand, gripped at the collar like he had an invisible pilot hard around the throat.

  He shook the jacket at his boss, a hand flourish saying now now now first.

  "This is what we're discussing first, Mayko. Her jacket."

  Theo cast glances between the two.
r />   "Rig, that's your jacket," Mayko said finally, with a sigh.

  Tranza stared at her for a moment, began to sign, realized he needed two hands for what he wanted to say, and handed the jacket to Theo in a rush.

  "Hold this," he said, and his hands flew into a rage of strenuous argument, reminding Theo forcefully of Captain Cho's assertion that hand-talk was good for many things, even philosophy.

  Tranza's jacket, beat-up as it was, felt remarkably good in her hands, and heavier than she'd expected—but then he was a much larger person than she was.

  The hand-signs were even faster than they had been when she walked in, and now punctuated in a way only hand-talk allowed. Sneak. Steal. Hide. Wrong. My ship. My students. Know better.

  Tranza turned to Theo as if she had no inkling of what he'd just said.

  "While you were away, me and Mayko were discussing that in fact without additional review, right, with no more testing needed, right, that you have been seen by this master pilot here, this Mayko Ikari, who I taught, to fly at first class level, which fact I have seen with my own eyes lo these months, right?"

  It came to her that Tranza was angry. Theo raised her hands, fingers wide, and nodded, not sure what to say.

  "I have my contracts to think of, Rig," Mayko said sternly.

  "You want Hugglelans to have all the best pilots tied to you since Korval's got trouble. Business is business. Right. I see that. But you're a Master. You got duty on both screens. And you can't keep information away from her!"

  He raised his hands toward the ship's ceiling, fluttered this thought is mine and started speaking, low and earnest.

  "I have a contract, Mayko, and mine don't need to be signed. If you want Theo Waitley to sign a first class contract, give her what she's earned. A jacket. The raise. The respect."

  Mayko sighed, loudly.

  "Rig, we're renegotiating all the contracts. Galactic needs—"

  "Will you," he interrupted, forcefully. "Will you tell Theo Waitley she's made first class and earned a jacket? Will you tell her that, Master Ikari?"