by Sharon Lee
"Behold, the lost is found!" Cho exclaimed and rose from her chair, hand sweeping out to show them the boy with the rumpled hair and the leather jacket who approached their table.
"To the Delgado scholars I am pleased to present Trainee Win Ton yo'Vala, who has taken the not-so-short route to dinner."
The trainee bowed to the table, while the fingers of his left hand danced a pattern in the direction of Cho sig'Radia.
"Delgado scholars, I greet you," he said, his accent tickling the inside of Theo's ear. "Captain, I am at your feet. You were, as always, correct."
"Flatterer!" Cho reseated herself and waved him toward the seat next to Theo. "Comport yourself with courtesy, I pray you. When we are at leisure, I will entertain reasons why you should not be spaced."
"Ma'am." He bowed again, fingers quiet now, and moved smoothly 'round the table to Theo's side. Cho turned her attention once more to the scholars, and he leaned close to whisper, "Have pity on me, I beg you."
Theo turned her head, looking directly into a pair of merry brown eyes. She smiled at him without meaning to.
"What do you want?"
"Only to live out my allotted span," he said, smiling back. "Depend upon it, she will grill me on the names and occupations of everyone sitting to dinner, and if I do not have them . . ." He sighed, not convincingly. "Why, then, it's the airlock for me." He bent his head, and sent her a glance from beneath reddish eyelashes. "Without a suit."
Theo bit her lip so she wouldn't laugh, and shook her head. "Cho sig'Radia said I was to keep her on her mettle, since you weren't here."
"Look at her," he returned. "Have you ever beheld a woman more mettlesome? Were she any sharper, she would be a danger to herself."
Theo's rescue this time came in the shape of their waiter, who approached bearing a tray full of beakers.
"What's that?" she wondered.
Beside her Win Ton yo'Vala laughed softly. "Oho. Perhaps we might trade, Sweet Mystery."
She looked at him. "Trade?"
"Of a certainty. We each hold knowledge which the other lacks. Commerce may therefore go forth." He paused as beakers arrived before them.
"Here," he said; "I will show my earnest. This . . ." He touched the pale green glass with a light finger. "This, Sweet Mystery, is chilled vegetable broth. It is meant to prepare the palate for the delights to come. One sips it directly from the container."
A quick glance showed Cho and Kamele and Professor Crowley lifting their beakers as described, hesitantly copied by others of their party.
Theo glanced back to Win Ton. "My name isn't 'Sweet Mystery,' " she told him, picking her beaker up carefully. "It's Theo. Theo Waitley."
Win Ton's smile widened and he leaned closer to touch his glass to hers. "So," he said conspiratorially, "the trading begins."
By the time the plates bearing what Win Ton assured her was the "main course" arrived, he was in the possession of the names and positions of each of the Delgado party, and Theo had learned how to "address" three different "befores"—one cold, one tepid, one hot—and the uses of the various utensils provided at her place.
This was much better than breakfast, she thought, as she tried to imitate Win Ton's use of the tongs. At breakfast, the scholars had discussed their project, leaving her Clyburn for company. Since he considered himself above talking to children, except to issue directions, that meant she'd spent the meal trying to figure out a conversation she clearly wasn't meant to understand, and wishing she was back home.
As near as she could figure it in her head, it would be about time for Advertency. She'd wondered how Lesset had done with the last solo—which turned out to be a bad idea, because that made her eyes sting, and she wasn't going to cry in front of the whole Research Team; and especially not in front of Clyburn. Happily, the waiter had come to tell them that their table was needed for the second meal-shift before Theo scandalized everybody by pulling out her mumu and calling up a game.
She tasted a bit of what Win Ton said was poached Siclarian Walking Mushrooms, catching her breath at the unexpected burst of hot spiciness, and reached for her water glass.
With two strangers at the table, the scholars had to be polite, and to converse on topics comprehensible to everybody. Surprisingly, it was Emeritus Professor Crowley who carried the bulk of the conversation with Cho sig'Radia, admitting to her supposition that their destination was Melchiza.
Questioned regarding their purpose, he had tipped his head, ironically, Theo thought, and murmured, "We are to perform a literature search, ma'am. Quite tedious and scholarly. And yourself? Can we hope to have the pleasure of your company all the way to Melchiza?"
"Your hopes are fulfilled," she assured him with one of her real smiles. "We have business on the station there, my disgraceful apprentice and I."
"What business?" Theo asked Win Ton, as Clyburn—too long ignored—began a rambling commentary on the clothes worn by passengers at other tables.
"We are assigned to retrieve a ship," he said, matter-of-factly, and sent her a sharp glance.
"You sigh, sweet Theo! Is it possible to hope that you will miss me?"
"How could I miss you when I've hardly met you?" she asked prosaically. "But—'assigned to retrieve a ship' sounds so much more interesting than 'stuck at boarding school, studying'!"
"One may acquire a fondness rapidly, don't you find? As for study, there will be a wealth of that on my side, as well, I assure you! No one who travels with my captain is safe." He smiled. "Perhaps I will lose credit with you, but I confess that not a few of the lessons available to passengers of this ship tempt me. History, drama, the science of star travel, lectures on the arts and culture of the ports we approach . . ."
She blinked at him. "You make it sound like fun!"
He laughed. "And so it is fun! Shall I prove my point?"
"How?" she asked doubtfully.
"Meet me tomorrow at fifth gong in the morning lounge. They call it 'Breakfast All Year' because someone is always on a schedule where breakfast is the meal they need. From there we two shall visit the daily lecture at the Pet Library. Tomorrow is to be 'Introduction to Norbears,' if I recall correctly."
"What's a norbear?" she asked, and his smile became mischievous.
"Behold," he murmured, "an opportunity to learn. "Have we a bargain, then?"
"My tutoring should be over by fifth gong . . ." she said slowly, doing the time conversion in her head. Professor Able said they'd get used to ship's time quickly, but for now, her body still thought it was on Delgado.
"Send me a message via ship's web if circumstances overtake you. I am Passenger Nine-nine seven, six four-four. Otherwise, we shall test my proposition, eh?"
"All right . . ." Theo said, and then smiled. "Passenger ninety-nine, seventy-six, forty-four. I hope I can make it."
"I hope you can make it, too."
"In fact, no," Cho sig'Radia was saying to Clyburn, "the truth is that the attire you so admire three tables over is not worn by the least of those seated, but the first. I have been away from fashion this while, and so may be in error. However, he appears to be wearing the very latest from Rombert's, and would be welcome in any of the finest halls on Liad dressed thus. Alas, here he is—a bit too grand. Perhaps he thought to sit with the captain."
Clyburn didn't like to be corrected. He drew a breath to answer—and was quelled by a look from Chair Hafley, which warmed Theo toward her slightly, and mumbled his way into silence.
"It is difficult when traveling," Win Ton said into the small quiet that followed this, "to correctly read clothing and position." He paused and looked about, saw that he had the attention of the table and continued.
"The—you will forgive me, that I have no proper word in your tongue—the melant'i of those around one can only sometimes be determined by dress, or lack of it, when one travels. I have had cause . . ." He looked toward Cho, his cheeks darkening slightly. "On this very trip, I myself had cause to be surprised at a meal. A man dressed all in w
hite, with the smell of spice and oil about him, and perhaps, too, a dash of sauce upon a sleeve, came to our table . . . I thought him a . . . servant, perhaps a worker in the kitchens. Rather he . . . wore the ring!"
Here he paused, fingers rippling, as if he were handing something past Theo to the woman on her other side—
"Rather," Cho sig'Radia said, taking up the tale, "he was Zed ter'Janpok, Clan Tangier. Tangier Himself, you will apprehend, whom one values as an old friend, come to visit." She paused to sip from her glass. "Mind you, the impulsive young apprentice had not entirely mis-observed, for my good friend is a chef of the first water, and so, indeed, a kitchen worker." She cocked an ironic eyebrow downtable. Professor Crowley and Kamele laughed in appreciation, echoed by the others.
"And now, unless I mis-observe myself—yes! It is our servers, with dessert!"
"Do candied dromisain leaves with sour sauce not please you, Sweet Mystery? You might call for a sorbet, instead, you know."
Theo blinked, her face heating. She'd dozed off, like a kid kept up past her bedtime.
"Stop calling me that!" she whispered fiercely. "It's stupid."
There was a small pause. A glance at Win Ton's face showed him suddenly serious, his lips pressed tight.
"I'm sorry." Impulsively, she reached out and put her fingers on his leather sleeve. "I'm—I'm not on ship time yet, and I'm falling asleep. And I miss my cat, and Fa—Professor Kiladi. But none of that's your fault, and I shouldn't have yelled at you."
"Ah." His mouth softened and he inclined his head. "It is forgotten. And it is my fault, I think, a little. You had told me your name." He frowned down at his plate and put the spoon carefully aside.
"In truth, the sauce is somewhat too sour for my taste," he said, and tipped his head, his eyes bright again. "Tell me about your cat."
There was a note of . . . wistfulness in his voice.
"Do you have a cat, too?" Theo asked.
Win Ton moved his hand in a sharp gesture, like he was tossing something away. "I, a cat? Never think it. My delm dislikes the creatures and refuses to have them in clan house or garden. So you must tell me: What is it like to have your own cat?"
"Well," she said slowly. "Sometimes, it's a lot of trouble . . ."
* * *
The conversation grew more interesting with dessert, which Cho welcomed—and welcomed again, as the beautiful Clyburn was effectively silenced by the ebb and flow of discussion. Truly, a vapid individual. On the other hand, his lady seemed pleased with his secret charms, and that of course must be what counted.
The senior traveler Crowley was sharp and quiet at once, and the Sub-chair Kamele Waitley—ostensibly second to her Chair!—was both sharper and quieter. Interesting melant'i play it was to see the discussion moved about at apparent random, where the Chair was sometimes at a loss, while the Emeriti appeared very much interested in the opinions and the process of the Sub-chair's thoughts. That this was not lost upon Chair Hafley was also apparent, and promised more adjustment of melant'i in future. It was to be hoped that the elder scholar would be wise, though Cho thought that she would be . . . otherwise.
Too, perhaps young Theo's presence could not be dismissed simply as a doting mother's whim. There was little of the doting parent in Kamele Waitley. And how convenient, to have another of one's house as extra ears, in what was surely a situation fraught with tension.
The halflings had kept good company, to the benefit of both. Their present topic . . . Cho spared them an ear, and hid her sigh inside a sip of wine. Cats! The gods send that there would be no opportunity for the boy to adopt a cat before she handed him off to other trainers.
"But it's the old 'unlimited energy' canard, brought to a new face!"
That was Crowley, taking fire from what was apparently a favorite topic. "We in education know—I can prepare cites if you like!"
But there, the youngest of them was nodding off in the midst of a recitation of the wonders of her personal cat, her dessert uneaten, spoon drooping in her hand.
Cho glanced aside, meaning to draw the mother's eye, but the sharp and formidable Kamele had seen, and was already in motion, pushing back from the table with a smile all around.
"Scholars, apprise me in the the morning if you solve this. I'm afraid Theo and I are not yet in sync with the ship's clock. Perhaps tomorrow evening we'll be more in tune."
"I wonder if I may suggest," Cho murmured for Kamele's ear alone as Win Ton helped Theo to her feet and deftly rearranged the chairs to clear her path, "that your daughter join some of the lectures and events offered to passengers. I know she will have lessons—as does my scamp of an apprentice—but with a table full of educators to draw upon it ought not be difficult to assign value to something far more—interactive—than rote read-and-repeat . . ."
Kamele gave her a sharp glance, and Cho produced a small bow for a mother's consideration.
"It must be admitted," she said, more quietly still, "that Win Ton has asked Theo to accompany him to a lecture at the Pet Library. If you are able to allow it, I would own myself in your debt, for the boy needs to practice his Terran against a native speaker."
"Ah." Kamele smiled as she put her hand on her daughter's shoulder and turned her toward the entry. "I think I can allow that."
The two departed. Win Ton reseated himself, and Cho returned her attention to the remaining scholars, who had taken up a debate of the educational opportunities available on-board. Cho smiled and leaned back in her chair, pleased that the politics of unlimited energy had been, for the moment, put away.
Twenty-One
Vashtara
EdRec Level
Pet Library
Theo jumped out of the elevator at the EdRec Level following the blue lines marked "Education" to the right, while most of her fellow passengers went left, pacing the glittery orange sparkles to "Recreation."
She'd looked Breakfast All Year and the Pet Library up on the shipmap, then scanned the info-page for the library.
Sadly, there were no cats listed in the Pet Census, though the entry did say that the kind and number of creatures on inventory was subject to change. She'd been about to look up norbears when the Tutor in her traveling school book noticed that she'd finished the math solo it had set her to, and the self-test, and called her attention to the next lesson in series. That one had been a little harder, and the Tutor had insisted that she finish the self-test for it, too.
"I'll be late for an appointment," she told it, half of her mind on the self-test.
Skillset remediation: Time Management, the Tutor noted.
"I manage my time just fine!" Theo said hotly, her fingers continuing to work out the problem while she spared a glare at the dialog box. She'd heard that the AIs in the traveling 'books were old, but nobody had mentioned cranky. Just her luck to draw one with a disciplinarian streak.
Had you moved on immediately to the next lesson, you would have completed your work early, the Tutor answered. Instead, you chose to do unauthorized research, and wait for a prompt.
A prompt that the Tutor, Theo suspected darkly, had put off providing until it knew she'd have to rush to finish. She stuck her tongue out at the dialogue box, and filed the answer to the last problem with a tap that was harder than it needed to be.
There was a long moment when nothing happened at all, then the Tutor's dialog box flashed green.
Self-test satisfactory, it allowed—grudgingly, Theo thought. The student may undertake mother-approved social project. Next lesson is chemical theory, at eighth gong.
Theo tapped the "recess" button as she came out of her seat. The door had closed behind her by the time the screen blanked.
Even with the Tutor's nidjit delay, Theo thought she'd have plenty of time to get to Breakfast All Day. Unfortunately, she had reckoned without the sheer size of the ship.
While it was very true that the belt to the 'vator bank serving the EdRec Level was directly across the Retail Concourse, that area was far larger than the shipma
p had led her to expect. Nor had she counted on the other impediments in her path.
The belts—the few that were in service—moved slow, and none of the other passengers seemed to be in a hurry. They ambled from one side of the main promenade to the other, peering into shop windows, playing with the auto-vend units, stopping dead in the center of the walkway to talk to each other . . .
She'd never seen so many adults with nothing to do—and so inadvertent in doing it!
At long last, the 'vator bank came into view. She slid in between leisurely closing doors, last one in, and very shortly first one out, remembering to walk-not-run, though surely it was all right to walk fast when you were going to be late for an appointment. . . .
Walking fast, Theo outstripped the eight passengers who had turned to follow the Ed lines with her. Directly ahead an ID shimmered above a store front, resolving, as she came closer, to a graphic of a large yellow cup with steam rising from it. The cup faded, replaced by the words, "Breakfast All Year."
A subdued and genteel gong sounded down the corridor, counting five.
"Chaos!" Theo did run the last few steps across the hall, dodging the cluster of chatting adults blocking the entrance—and froze just inside, stomach sinking.
I'll never find him in this! she thought dismally.
Hundreds of glossy dark tables and chairs stretched away and up three curved, bright yellow walls. It might, Theo thought, have been meant to create the illusion of being inside of a coffee cup.
Inside of a full-to-overflowing coffee cup.
She strained high on her toes, scanning the room without much hope. The restaurant was so crowded that one boy with reddish brown hair and a black jacket wasn't going to stand out—
"There you are—and prompt, as well!" His voice was so close that she jumped. She took a breath and settled slowly flat-footed before turning her head to look at him.