by Sharon Lee
"I found it," Theo breathed to Coyster, who greeted this information with no visible sign of awe, joy—or even consciousness.
She thought for a moment, staring at the mumu's keypad and thinking about combinations that were easy to code, but that she wouldn't likely hit by accident. Finally, and deliberately, she keyed in the trigger combo. After further consideration, she set the loop to nine consecutive checks, reasoning that she could hit the hot keys again, if she needed more time off-grid.
Needed for what was a question she had been studiously not asking herself, even as she had pursued the answer to the puzzle. Instead, she reminded herself that the Simple at the door would have taken her under study if Father hadn't been prepared. Being prepared was very close to thinking ahead, and it seemed to her that an advertent scholar—which Father demonstrably was—ought always to be prepared.
"I should test it," she said, holding the mumu in her hand. It wouldn't be thinking ahead if she just assumed it was going to work. In fact, it would be wishful thinking, which was almost as bad as making excuses.
"How?" she asked, putting the mumu on Coyster's side. His skin rippled in protest, and he flicked his ears, but he didn't bother to open his eyes.
Obviously, she didn't want to just vanish off the grid; even she could see that would be reckless. She might, she guessed, tell Kamele what she'd done and ask for her help, in the spirit of scholarly exploration.
On second thought, that wasn't such a good idea. Theo plucked the mumu off of Coyster and held it in her hand, staring down into the screen. She'd wait until Oktavi, she thought, and ask Father to check her. That was fair. In a sense, she'd gotten the assignment from him.
It wasn't the best solution—she wanted to test her work right now, and Oktavi was days away. On the other hand, it would have to do; and anyway, it wasn't like she planned on actually using it; it was only a precaution. In the meantime, she had more than enough to keep her busy—worrying about the Review Board for one, and why they'd asked for an extension to decide her case. Kamele seemed to think that the extended time for additional discovery and deliberation was good news. Theo—or, at least, her stomach—thought otherwise.
She could also, she told herself firmly, think about dance, work on her lace, and do extra-credit solos.
And, if she got bored, she could see about scrubbing the Serpent icon and the program that generated it from her school book.
As a matter of fact, she had an idea about that.
She rolled to her feet and approached the desk. The Serpent of Knowledge was still down in the left hand corner, still pulsing, oh-so-patiently waiting for her attention.
Sighing, Theo slid into the chair and tapped the icon. Once.
A menu bar appeared in the center of her screen.
• Theory, Annotated
• Safety Office History, Delgado University
• Surveillance History, Delgado
• Map, Interior
• Map, Exterior
• Timetable, Real Time
• Algorithm
Theo blinked.
Whatever it was, the Serpent had done exactly what she'd asked it to do, and more thoroughly than any search program she'd ever used. She bit her lip, one hand fisted on her knee, the other hovering over the selection key.
There isn't, she thought, any assignment.
On the other hand, she was interested in the information. So what if there wasn't an assignment? Information for its own sake was—
"Theo?" Kamele's voice echoed down the hallway. "I'm home! I hope you're hungry!"
"Admin has okayed the trip," Kamele said, sounding tired and relieved and anxious all at once. At least she was eating, Theo thought, helping herself to another slice of spice bread with veggie-paste stuffing. 'Course, it was hard to turn down spice bread.
"When will you be leaving?" Theo asked, trying to remember where Melchiza was, exactly, with reference to Delgado.
"The in-time to make the next outgoing liner—call it two days," Kamele murmured, and Theo put her bread down, staring.
"That's, um . . . really soon," she managed.
Kamele nodded. "It is. We're very fortunate that Vashtara is due in at the station, and has room for passengers."
Theo chewed her lip. "How long—how long will you be gone?" She'd stayed with Lesset for a day or two at a time when Kamele and Father had gone on short trips, just like Lesset had stayed with her when her mother went away.
At least twice, Theo had stayed with Aunt Ella in her cluttered apartment, while Kamele and Father traveled.
"The return trip may be a day or two sooner or later, depending on transition links. I thing we ought to assume most of two hundred days."
Theo sat back on the stool, a gone feeling in her stomach.
"Close your mouth, Theo. You look like one of Jen Sar's prize fish." Kamele had a bite of spice bread.
"You're going to be gone—" I'll miss you! Theo thought, and blinked her eyes to clear a sudden start of tears. She cleared her throat, and tried to sound calm and matter-of-fact. "I guess I'll be staying with Aunt Ella, then."
"Oh, no." Kamele shook her head and reached for her cup. "You'll be coming with me."
Theo gasped.
"Coming—to Melchiza?" she repeated. "I can't go to Melchiza!"
Kamele looked up. "Of course you can. Tomorrow, you'll file for solo studies from your teachers; I've already transmitted my authorization. I have an info packet from Vashtara, which I'll send along to you; they include guidelines for what and how to pack. Your immunizations are up-to-date, but they'll screen us on-station, anyway." She paused, looking at Theo consideringly. "Coyster will need to go live with Professor Kiladi. I'm afraid cats aren't allowed on cruise ships."
She was going to strangle, Theo thought, around the buzzing in her ears. Her chest was tight and she was suddenly very sorry that she'd eaten quite so much spice bread.
"But, I can't! Not for—what about dance? There's a freeform that I wanted to dance in on Venta, Bek—What about the Review Board? I—why can't I stay with Father, too?"
"Because you're not a cat," Kamele said crisply. "Really, Theo. You're behaving as if this were a punishment instead of an opportunity to learn."
"I don't," Theo said breathlessly, "want to learn."
That was stupid. She knew it the second the words tumbled out of her mouth. But of course, it was too late to call them back.
Kamele shook her head. "The situation is quite settled, Theo. Whining isn't going to change it. I must say, however, that I'd never expected to hear my daughter say that she doesn't want to learn."
Theo bit her lip. "Kamele—"
Her mother raised a hand. "It's a shock, I know. Very sudden. Unfortunately, there's nothing to be done. I suggest that you sleep on it."
Nineteen
Number Twelve Leafydale Place
Greensward-by-Efraim
Delgado
The article was finished, polished, and on its way to the journal that had commissioned it; all of the mid-term student papers had been perused, marked up, and returned to their authors, who would hopefully learn something from his comments. He had finished reading his entire backlog of journals, and was now reclined in his chair, one ear on the audio from the Orbital Traffic Scanner, and both eyes closed.
"Truly," he murmured to Mandrin, who was napping in her usual spot on the desk, "it's nothing short of amazing what one can accomplish when one is unencumbered by child and mistress."
Mandrin vouchsafed no reply to this observation, if indeed she heard him. Indolent creatures, cats.
Well.
"Scallion," the OTS crackled around the permanently irritated voice of the second shift master on Delgado Station. "If your vee isn't adjusted by my next refresh, that's a megadex fine."
"Ain't nothing the matter with our vee, Station Master, 'cept a big, griefen cruise ship in the way."
"If you wanna pay the fine, Scallion, that's—"
"This is Vashtara,
out of Ibenvue." The new voice was crisp, no-nonsense and bore a heavy accent that was neither Liaden nor Standard Terran. "I infer that it is we who have muddled the station master's calculations. It is suggested that the pilot of the ship Scallion bring the vessel to a slightly tangential course which retains the precious vee, perhaps on the propitious heading oh-two-seven, oh-four-seven, oh-eight-seven. This heading will avoid holing the big, griefen cruise ship, which will please me perhaps even more than it will please Scallion."
There was a pause, while pilot and station master likely did their math, then the rather subdued voice of Scallion's pilot. "That's good to do it. Station Master?"
The sigh was audible even through the static. "Adopt and amend course, Scallion."
Jen Sar Kiladi shifted in his chair, lazily considering the exchange. The pilot of the Vashtara had been . . . marginally within her melant'i. That she had broadcast the amended course, rather than beaming a private suggestion to the station master hinted at deeper tensions between cruise ship and station. He frowned slightly. Ibenvue, was it? He had lately been reading some interesting news out of—
From downstairs . . . a sound.
The man in the chair opened his eyes and came silently to his feet. On the corner of the desk, Mandrin had raised her head, ears pricked, staring at the doorway.
The sound came again, stealthily. The sound of the garden door. Being closed.
Silent, he glided across the revolving star fields, plucking the Gallowglass cane from its place near the door as he passed through. He paused in the shadow at the top of the stairs, the stick held cross-body at waist level, fingers curved 'round the grip.
Quiet footsteps came from below, and the sound of soft, irregular breathing. He took a breath himself, deep and deliberate—and waited.
On Delgado, a handgun was unlikely. On Delgado, let it be known, sneaking into a house uninvited was all but unheard of. Which meant that he might in a moment face someone desperate to the point of foolhardiness.
Or a professional. He wondered, briefly, if he were any longer the equal of a professional.
The footsteps passed from carpet to wood—and did not strike the tuned board. He let the point of the stick go, free hand flashing out to the switch as Mandrin rushed past him, taking the stairs in one long leap. The hall light flared from dim to brilliant. At the bottom of the flight, a thin figure with pale, wind-knotted hair threw an unsteady hand up to shield her eyes.
"Ow," she said. And, then, as Mandrin hurled herself against canvas-clad knees. "Hey."
At the top of the stairs, he took a careful breath, and if he leaned a moment on the cane, it was not . . . only . . . to be certain that the blade was well-seated.
"Good evening, Theo," he said—Calmly, he cautioned himself; the child's half-frantic already. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?"
She blinked up at him, dark eyes wide and cheeks reddened with cold. "I have to talk to you," she said, her voice wobbling, though he thought it was adrenaline, rather than fright. "I—Necessity, Father."
He sighed quietly, and inclined his head.
"An appeal to necessity must of course be honored," he acknowledged gravely. "However, as survival is also an imperative, I must ask if your mother knows that you are here."
Theo blinked up at him. "No," her voice voice wavered. She cleared her throat and repeated, more strongly. "No, I came on my own decision."
"I see."
He descended the stairs, taking care to move slowly. When he reached the bottom of the flight, he touched her cheek gently, finding it chill, indeed.
"I will make tea, I think, while you go into the common room and call your mother. Please tell her that I will bring you home, discreetly, when you and I have finished our business, and that you are quite unharmed." He raised an eyebrow and made a show of scanning her hectic person. "You are quite unharmed, are you not, Theo?"
She gulped. "Yes, sir."
"Good." He nodded toward the common room. "Call your mother."
* * *
"You're where?" Kamele sounded more shocked than angry. Theo wished she knew whether that was a good thing or not. "Why?"
Okay, she thought, tucking her left hand under her right arm. Should've expected that. She took a breath. "Necessity," she said firmly.
Silence. Theo bit her lip. Necessity was—Kamele knew that you didn't fib about necessity. Not to Father. But whether she would want to know more, right now, and how to answer her if she did—
"Very well," Kamele said. She was starting to sound mad, now, Theo noted unhappily. "I will expect a full explanation when you get home."
"Now you must tell me, Theo," Father said, handing her a cup of tea, "precisely how you arrived here. Not, I trust, the late bus again?"
She pulled her legs up under her and cuddled into the corner of the double chair. It was funny, now that she was starting to get warm, she was shivering.
"No-o," she said as Father settled back into his chair. "I . . . used a Skoot."
"Ah." He sipped tea, meditatively. Theo did the same, smiling at the notes of orange and elmoni—and smiled again when Mandrin jumped up and curled without preamble against her.
"I feel compelled to mention," Father murmured, stretching his legs out before him and crossing them at the ankles, "that the Skoots do call in."
"I know that," Theo said, though she hadn't until she'd asked the Serpent icon.
"Indeed," he said politely. "Therefore, you intended to be caught out?"
"No," she said, looking down to stroke Mandrin. She looked up and met his eyes. "I ran it on manual."
One eyebrow rose. "Forgive me, Theo. The fact that you've had training on the Skoots momentarily slipped my mind."
"Well, I haven't," she blurted. "And I did have a couple seconds where I thought maybe I'd made a mistake. But then—it was easy."
There was a small pause while he sipped his tea. "Just so," he murmured. "Easy."
There was another small silence while they both addressed their cups, then Father spoke again.
"I apprehend that you have mastered the puzzle of turning off your mumu's ID emissions. But I do wonder about the Eyes."
She looked down, watching her hand slide along Mandrin's glossy fur. "I—I found a map of unwatched exits and streets," she said, which wasn't exactly a fib.
"Fascinating," Father murmured. "One wonders—forgive the prying ways of an elderly professor!—one does wonder, however, where you . . . found . . . this map."
It was never a good idea to try to slide a fib—even a half-fib—past Father. Theo sighed and looked up, reluctantly.
"I have a . . . research program on my school book," she said slowly. "It found what I needed."
"Well! What a delightfully useful program, to be sure! You must show it to me when we return you to your mother's arms. But, where have my wits gone begging? Here I am wasting your time with pleasantries, when you have pled necessity! Please, unburden yourself."
Here it was. Theo nodded and sipped her tea, trying to settle her suddenly unsettled stomach, then sat holding the empty cup in her hand for the count of one, two, three . . .
She looked up and met dark, inquisitive eyes.
"Kamele's research trip has been approved by Admin," she said, having told him about the application for this over an Oktavi dinner. He nodded.
"Right. They're leaving in two days, and—she wants me to go with her."
Her voice quavered a little, and she shrunk against the chair. Someday, she thought, she'd learn how to keep her voice reasonable and calm, no matter what she was feeling.
"This is certainly excellent news for your mother," Father said, "but I fail to see how it warrants a desperate midnight escape to my door." He raised an eyebrow, eyes stern. "Much less an appeal to necessity."
Theo's stomach was suddenly even more unsettled. Father usually understood so quickly—but, she reminded herself, he hadn't been living with them day-to-day. He'd probably forgotten all about the R
eview Board.
"I have to stay here—on Delgado," she said, forcing herself to speak slowly, like she was giving an oral report. "The Review Board called for an extension, and if we go to Melchiza, then we won't be here when they announce their findings."
Father nodded, and moved his hand slightly, signaling her to continue.
"If they decide that I'm a Danger to Society—" Which, she added silently, they would. Why should they be different than the rest of the world? "We won't be able to appeal the decision, if we're traveling. When we come home—if there's a DtS in my file, the Safeties won't have to ask for permission to give me any drug they think will keep me from hurting anybody else."
She took a deep breath.
"So, if I leave Delgado now, I'm putting myself—and Kamele—in a position of peril."
Father sat very still in his chair, gazing intently at the toes of his slippers. Theo gulped and put her hand flat on Mandrin's side, trying to take comfort from the vibration of the cat's purrs against her palm.
"I see," Father said, and looked up. "Plainly, you have thought this situation through, and plainly, given the facts you have marshaled, you have cause for concern." He paused, then inclined his head.
"Did your mother share with you the probable length of your voyage?"
"Two hundred days."
"As few as that? And yet—even if your worst-case scenario should come about, two hundred days is sufficient to produce a radical, positive change in your abilities. You are on record with the Safety Office as attempting to address the issues that concern it. There is no reason that you cannot—and every reason that you should—continue exercising and dance during your time off-planet. If you are seized by the Safety Office upon your return, you and your mother would be justified in calling for a secondary review to determine if, in fact, you have overcome the difficulties noted in your file."
Theo thought about that. "Do you think," she asked, her voice sounding almost as small as she felt, "that I will have overcome the difficulties noted in my file, Father?"