by Sharon Lee
“You know these people, Theo. You know them, right, and they say things—I didn’t know it was you at Codrescu, don’t pay attention to places I don’t go, right? And Carresens is top flight here. That one, she’s a boss of bosses, right!”
It made her feel…odd to have Tranza defer to her. To have him amazed at her, when he’d taught her so much.
Eyes on the world below, Theo sighed, briefly considering how nice it might be to return one year and fly a sailplane from one of the three famous slopes on Cantankerous Citadel. Twelve hours, they said, was a short flight.
Bechimo gently altered the airflow of fans number seven and eight, brushing her ought-to-be-cut bangs down into her face. He’d been reading some of Tranza’s epic love songs from Bothelair, where hardly a stanza was done until the beloved’s hair was mussed.
“Pfffwaow, I know! Can’t sight-see much longer. Who’s checking Joyita?”
This was rhetorical, at best. Win Ton was checking Joyita, as were Stost and Chernak. The pathfinders were under Kara’s direction in this—both of them wishing to learn their new universe—and Kara having found unexpected admirers for what Clarence called, much to her embarrassment, the Battle of Minot Docks. So that meant that everybody but Clarence and Theo was checking Joyita.
Joyita raised a hand and waved.
“I am checking myself to the second, Theo, and will go to the nanosecond when we determine exactly when we begin Jump and not before.”
“Are we slowing you down?” she asked, half serious. “We could leave right now, except we’re waiting for that on-delivery payment to transfer.”
“I am content to wait, Captain,” Joyita said, with dignity.
Theo grinned, her eyes drawn back to her screen.
Why, look at that tendril of storm; in the time since she’d been watching, it had changed from grey to hard white, bright and—
“Theo, we have the transfer,” Joyita said, interrupting this reverie. “We also have a number of electronic mail packets for you.”
“Joyita, you’re PIC. That comes first. As you have time, you can fill in details.”
“Yes, Theo. There are several notes from Master Trader yos’Galan. There is an official communication from Eylot, demanding that you return for trial. Another official communication from Eylot, demanding that you return Kara for trial. Eylot…”
“Skip Eylot,” Theo said.
“There is also a communication from Minot. Minot Station Pilots Guild representative requests a full explanation of why the norbear ambassador was seen armed, in public.”
Theo raised her eyebrows.
From second chair, Clarence laughed.
“Quicker’n a cat can lick ’er paw!”
“But that was my fault,” Kara protested, looking up from the screen she shared with Chernak and Stost.
Theo watched that changeable wisp of storm and shook her head. “A full explanation?” she said pensively. “That’s going to take some time and consideration!”
Clarence had the good grace not to laugh, this time.
“Well,” Theo said, wiping the seductive view of Lefavre’s storms from her screen.
“Let’s go to Surebleak, Pilot Joyita. On your mark!”