Dragon Ship

by Sharon Lee, Steve Miller

  Really, Theo, she heard Father’s voice, half-amused like it had been when she was a kid and had let her enthusiasm get the better of her: some manners, if you please.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Bechimo

  Kara spun the instant Bechimo’s lock sealed, the two of them meeting in a tangled hug. Bechimo’s seven-second lock cycle count was hardly long enough, but they managed to be standing discreetly apart when the inner lock opened to the empty entry hall, though Clarence would have the lock and the hall on Screens Eight or Nine.

  Heart pounding, Theo grabbed Kara’s hand and tugged her along, all the while pointing out those things that a pilot should know about a ship.

  “The low pressure override is green; the emergency colors are greens and blues—old Terran-style, whites with green outlines are safety lockers.”

  Bechimo was keeping to defense mode: Theo’s code went in before the door was open, despite that Theo bore the ship’s key ’round her neck.

  It was only a step then from crew hall to yet another door, bypassing the secret ways to the inner core but going direct to Bechimo’s Heart.

  Clarence being on duty in this emergency situation, he remained seated as they entered, nodding in their direction, with a fillip of actively ignoring planet query.

  “Now what?” was Theo’s voiced reaction, though she took the time to giddily spin once about her axis, hands apart.

  “Pilot Clarence O’Berin, Second Board and Executive Officer aboard Bechimo, please meet Pilot Kara ven’Arith of Codrescu’s technical staff.”

  She smiled. “Kara, meet Clarence, and—meet Bechimo! Home of Laughing Cat, Limited!”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she felt a thrill, as if she’d said something desperately dangerous, but Clarence continued to mind his board, Screen Six showing a mosaic scan of Codrescu’s hall just outside the hatch.

  Kara bowed.

  “Pilot O’Berin, I am pleased to meet you—and Bechimo, as well. A fine ship, and the pilots’ care is visible.” That was fairly close to a Liaden set phrase for a flight-deck visitor, but the grin was pure Kara.

  “Pilot ven’Arith, well met, and welcome,” Clarence said easily, his eyes on his screens.

  Kara was looking about her, doing the proper pilot things: locating—and committing to memory, Theo had no doubt—seats, boards, hazard controls, safety lockers, and grab-holds, the while keeping a respectful distance from live boards.

  “Pilot, Eylot seems to think we owe them an answer on their request for us to submit to boarding and inspection,” Clarence said. “Station’s covering that we’re part of an inquest to a recent unfortunate incident, and as well that as responder to pilots-in-peril, we are, by custom, tradition, treaty, and Guild rules, immune to such demands until local conditions are stable.”

  Theo stepped closer to the pilots’ station, frowning at the screens, but seeing nothing of immediate concern except the path of a live target . . .

  “That’s Nubit?” she asked, using her chin to point at the screen with the tell-tales of range, time to impact of a missile launch, likelihood of an effective strike with an energy beam, and other such details.

  “Yes, Pilot. Given their current course, I would guess they’ve announced themselves, and won’t be returning, but I’ve been wrong before . . .”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Theo saw Kara look to the screen in question, and actively watch as new lines were superimposed, indicating a likely destination for the spying vessel: not a return to berth on Codrescu but an interception of one of the growing pods of Eylot ships, including several tagged with the IDs of Anlingdin craft.

  “Good comp,” Kara said approvingly, “and good job, Pilot, on giving Nubit a kick. They’ve been acting without melant’i for too long, with more complaints than any three crews, and put all the blame on us.”

  “Thank you, Pilot.” Clarence gave her a nod, then was back at his screens, continuing, “It was a near thing, Theo. Being on the board solo I upped the tactical security setting; took a couple overrides to be sure we didn’t do real damage. As is, they might be blind in one eye, since tactical’d got an ID on some sensor modules and gave ’em an extra little bit of information to deal with.”

  Kara snickered appreciatively. “That’s a really good program you’ve got there . . .”

  “We’ve been extremely pleased with Bechimo,” Theo said, “and we’re still learning, since we were on a route shakedown. I’d been running courier so there’s a change of scale for me to get used to. Got more crew room than you’d think, which is a plus.”

  On-screen, Nubit changed trajectory slightly. Looked like they’d be making rendezvous with a shuttle for sure. Bechimo began targeting that ship, too, and Theo felt a twitch of nerves. There were only so many capabilities she wanted to test in front of witnesses.

  “Exec, I think we can turn the targeting off of Nubit and company. Good to know Bechimo’s up to the follow-through, though.”

  Clarence sketched a salute. The targeting information faded from the screen, but Theo was sure the change had begun before he put fingers to keypad. Bechimo was staying on top of things then.

  Mixed goods, there, as Rig Tranza used to say.

  Kara glanced toward the refresh station, orienting herself now by counting overhead handholds and kick-points for no-grav situations. This close to Codrescu’s field, light as it was, they needed to maintain their own field as a kind of self-defense against needing to walk on the walls.

  Theo admired Kara’s sudden stretch, which made her think how good it would be to travel with Kara—and realized that it wasn’t just a passing notion, but a . . . possibility.

  Kara—Kara had been born on Eylot; she worked on the station.

  She was one of those pilots Eylot Ground would want to make an example of.

  Theo’s mouth dried. Surely not. Kara—surely Kara would be safe. She had kin—she remembered. An uncle at Chonselta City, on Liad itself.

  Inner calm, she told herself. Take your Jumps in order.

  She turned back to Clarence.

  “Exec, we’ve been asked to prepare to aid in a potential evacuation, including taking on outgoing passengers. I’m ready to offer transport, but we’ll need to figure how many we can take, and to where. Pick a couple Guild ports with a top friendly rating from one of the guidebooks and figure our supplies . . .”

  Clarence’s smile spoke volumes. “Already been considering that eventuality, Pilot, and have three courses on fallback. Working on maximum and optimum carry away—you’ll find the analysis and reports building under the file name Catleap. Hardest is trying to figure supplies, since I’m not sure what, if anything, we can gather here.”

  He reached out and locked his board, unshipped his chair and let it rotate. He rose and stretched.

  “Speaking of supplies, I’m past due on break. Your watch, Chimmy.”

  “I have it, Clarence, thank you.” Joyita’s voice came from the vicinity of Screen Six, still scanning the outside hall.

  “Good lad.” He gave Theo and Kara an easy smile. “Can I make us all some tea?”

  * * *

  Tea was taken away from the boards, at the refreshment bar, and not in the dining room. With volume and alerts up, and the unseen but persistent Joyita watching over things, security was served.

  Clarence’s contributed festive Vadanya tea and the last of Rodi’s chipcookies helped give the moment a picnic air despite the uncertainties that surrounded them.

  “Tell me everything,” Theo said to Kara.

  Her answer was perhaps not as full as it might have been without Clarence’s company, but he weighed the conversation down not at all, taking time out to make another round of tea and pulling from a hidden supply of cookies as well.

  “So I made Second,” Kara said after naming half a dozen names and their fates after Theo’s riotous parting from the school.

  “Which is to say, I earned Second during the same trip where Asu was confirmed Third and pr
ospective Second . . . but Admin required me to go through a ‘training camp for reorientation’ before the license was awarded, because of my involvement in the Culture Club and . . .” She had sudden recourse to her teacup, her cheeks darkening slightly in a blush.

  “And because of your involvement with me,” Theo finished. “Kara—”

  “No,” her friend held up her hand. “If not you, it would have been someone else, in the club, or on the bowli ball team. They were—are!—looking for reasons to deny pilots their due.”

  She stared hard at Theo as if daring her to argue.

  Theo raised a hand: your board.

  “Well. I made the graduating list as a candidate Second, and thought that I’d work something out with Hugglelans.

  “Except before graduation, Orn Ald yos’Senchul—he was still Flight Instructor yos’Senchul—told me there was an opportunity for me to have a mechanic’s ten-day tour of Codrescu, if I was interested. I was, of course. He made the arrangements, and suggested that I pack heavy, in case there was ‘something else’ that I might find, when I was on-station. The two of us came up—me to get board time, and him to bring the ship back.

  “We went first to the Guild office. I filled out the papers, they pulled my records—and gave me my Second Class ticket.”

  “A cover?” Theo asked. “You got a stealth Guild card?”

  Kara laughed.

  “Not very. Once I got it, you see, I qualified for this position, and station made me an offer as temp replacement for someone from on-world who was getting married. He never came back, and I had my stuff here—including yours! Since Orn Ald was here, and the semester was over, and his contract was in question, he just parked the school’s courier out at Berth Fourteen and sent the keys back on the shuttle!”

  Theo laughed. “Good!”

  “Yes, wasn’t it? But as for stealth—I have my name published as staff here, which isn’t stealth at all. And that’s everything, Theo: I’ve been working, I have my own conapt, I’m up a couple of grades, and I’m doing well for a single. Sometimes I apply for outsystem positions, to keep my options open, though I haven’t had anything but a couple of interviews.”

  She gave a sudden, seated, and absurd bow.

  “Behold me, van’chela, an industrious woman of impeccable melant’i who will soon be without a job or a home.”

  Theo sighed, wishing there was any comfort she could offer—

  “Jump noise and Jump glare, Pilot, building now. Jump glare visible.”

  Theo spun, as startled as the rest of the tea party by the sound of another voice.

  Joyita could now be seen in Screen Six, hands in motion. There came a buzz of noise across multiple frequencies. It was far too noisy for an outgoing burst, and surprisingly close. From the sound of it, something really big had Jumped in-system . . .

  “Seats,” Theo snapped. “Now!”

  The subdued sounds of ordinary system chatter and the regular air-moving of a ship in space came to her ears now, but she and Clarence were both on the move to the boards—whatever had come in was huge, and only a few light-minutes out, which could be a sign of daring piloting or a ship in a hurry.

  “. . . Diamon Lines. We are responding to a pilots-in-peril report. Cruise ship Asu Perfection requesting reply from Codrescu Station or authorized Guild representatives. Diamon Lines Asu Perfection requesting information. Stand by.”

  Sudden chatter, and Eylot Control trying to overpower the radio spectrum with a combination of noise and demands, including orders to the liner to dock at Eylot’s own station . . .

  The first voice had been male and coolly businesslike. A new voice came through now as the overall buzz of Eylot’s interference faded, as if there’d been a burst of power. The new voice was female, with more than an edge of excitement to it, and lately familiar to Theo.

  “Repeating, this is arriving unscheduled Diamon Lines cruise ship Asu Perfection, Asu Diamon PIC. We’re requesting current pilots-in-peril information from Guild officials. Goma Chang, we have your report, thank you. Codrescu and Bechimo, can I get your reports via channels?”

  “It’s Asu!” Kara said from the Jump seat behind Theo. There was a note of awe in her voice. “She’s grown up!”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Codrescu Station

  “Jump noise and Jump glare, Pilot, building now. Multiple instances. Jump glare visible. Jump glare visible. Recent active ship acquisitions at three point oh six light-seconds north, seven hundred twelve light-seconds north, fourteen point oh nine light-seconds south.”

  The screens changed rapidly, IDs flickering like card tricks. Goma Chang disappeared entirely. More IDs flowed and flowered.

  Seven hundred twelve light-seconds out—someone hit system well ahead of Asu Perfection, though not as close in. They’d failed to activate in-system ID . . . which, thought Theo, meant that the pilot was either careless or extremely careful. Public frequencies began to fill with voices.

  “Here for pilots-in-peril. Varthaven. Have doctors and live clinic. Is there a rescue operation in progress?”

  “Star Wings in for pilots-in-peril,” came another voice, and also, “Altinlyr arrives in response to asserted pilots-in-peril.”

  “Backenhouse . . .”

  “Peace Ship Juliette . . .”

  Slayn’s voice hit the general frequencies next, along with a nearly subaudible burr that would be the sidebands carrying additional information.

  “Codrescu Station reporting, please no reply. Goma Chang, outgoing, drew hostile fire from Eylot forces within the shift; Chang was not hit, but we lost a utility boat and pilot in the action. Eylot itself reports additional deadly acts against atmospheric ships and pilots.

  “Eylot has taken action against incoming and outgoing commerce at Codrescu. Further demand that Guild operations at this location cease in favor of a planetary certification procedure misusing Guild techniques and ID. Eylot demands Codrescu cede station and personnel to the planetary government entity. In talks just concluded, Pilots Guild Master and Acting Codrescu Station Master Peltzer agrees to release the station to Eylot, pending a safe and orderly evacuation of personnel.”

  Another arrival hit the screens one hundred light-seconds out and moving away, well below the ecliptic.

  The blue light, which was the direct comm link to the station lit. Theo extended a hand, but Bechimo, in the person of Joyita, opened the line before her finger found the button.

  “Bechimo here, Comm Officer Joyita. Go ahead, bridge is alert.”

  Clarence sneezed. At least, Theo thought it was a sneeze. In the screen, Joyita was competently manipulating his board and being as present as a person with no physical being could be.

  “Bechimo, Guild Master Peltzer here. Urgent. Please immediately send Flight Tech ven’Arith to Bay Three-A with your evacuation capacity information, your willingness to carry staff members, and your rates for climate-controlled personnel assisted lockbox transport to Velaskiz Rotundo.”

  “Rates?” Theo asked into comm. “If this is an emergency—”

  “So charge extra, Pilot.” Peltzer cut her off. “The owners of this pile want the records and the Guild has a few belongings near to its heart, too.”

  Clarence whistled very softly, murmured, “good lad.” He opened a work screen.

  Theo’s own screen was up and open, but before she could key anything in, a file appeared, bearing the legend Codrescu Transfer, and numbers began flowing in. Bechimo was feeding her comparisons of potential passenger rates from Eylot to Velaskiz Rotundo.

  “Lockbox cubes and density?” Theo asked comm.

  “We’ll send density stats,” Peltzer said. “Assume we need the cubes of my inner office, twice. There’s an escort waiting for ven’Arith, who will carry your information and deliver it into my hand. Confirm, please.”

  “Waitley for Bechimo. Understood. Two minutes for numbers, please.”

  “Sooner if may be. Peltzer out.”

  Theo threw the cubes i
nto the screen, made a series of guesses regarding density of transportable records. Bechimo took it from there, assigning rates for each guess. Clarence, meanwhile, whistled while he worked with his screen.

  “Velaskiz Rotundo is a pricey place, Theo. Figure in bribes roughly equal to landing fees. I might be able to talk us in without, depending on who’s still sitting where, but figure ’em into the total, anyway.”

  Theo found comparison charts on her screen, then the density information came in from the station, looking not all that much like the densities for archival media.

  “Cantra and bits, I’m guessing,” Clarence said, and threw a glance over his shoulder to Kara, along with a quick-signed not heard here.

  Not heard here, she acknowledged, and Clarence nodded.

  “He wants us to ship the Guild’s treasury and maybe some arms, I’m thinking, with Guild personnel to keep it company.”

  Theo frowned.

  “The Guild Master is going to leave them lights and air,” Kara said, with a certain note of satisfaction in her voice. “And maybe not air.”

  — • —

  “A courier pilot,” murmured Ban Del, sipping his tea. “Ah.”

  Kamele considered him, reflexively weighing the ah—and then laughed softly at herself. She had had the measure of Jen Sar’s arsenal of ahs to a whisker: the slightly derisive ah which acknowledged the receipt of dubious information; the ah in testimony of a comfortable curling-in; the ah that conveyed slight annoyance; the . . .

  “Have I been amusing?” inquired her present companion. “Tell me how, so that I may do so again.”

  Kamele laughed less softly, and shook her head.

  “Forgive me. I was only thinking that ah is such a . . . useful . . . convention.”

  He smiled.

  “Why so it is. And most especially in conversations of exploration. Shall we not speak of your daughter?”

  “What mother doesn’t wish to speak of her daughter?” Kamele asked rhetorically. “But if you will inquire into her profession—you’ve heard nearly all of the details I can offer you. Theo is a courier pilot; she has earned her First Class license, which means, so I learn . . .” She considered him owlishly. “. . . that she has mastered Jump.”