Saltation Page 11

  Theo was glad of the delay. Math for dummies was long dismissed. She wrote a note to the instructor, explaining her absence, which was required, then took a shower, being careful not to get the covering over her cut wet, and dressed. She pinned Win Ton's wings to her collar, and made herself a cup of tea.

  Good tea, Father used to say, was worth more than its weight in rare wine. She didn't have rare wine, but she did have some tolerably good tea. She sat in the comfiest chair in the joint room, making sure to lean back into the cushion, closed her eyes and sipped.

  Carefully, she did a self-assessment. She was still feeling kind of floaty, which she thought might be let-down from the adrenaline, like the medic had said. The calm . . . inner calm, she thought, savoring her tea.

  Pilot, that's what that was. Pilots had inner calm. The sample reports they'd been reading made that clear enough. Pilots acted for the best good of ship, passengers and cargo. That meant more than having good reaction times; it meant being calm enough to think well in emergencies.

  Since she was going to be a pilot, no matter what Wilsmyth and the people like him tried to do to stop her, it seemed like calmness was going to be a good habit to cultivate.

  She sighed, and finished her tea, wondering how the scene with Wil would have played out, if she'd managed to stay calm. Whether she'd reacted well to the emergency—well, she guessed she'd find out. Opening her eyes, she looked to the clock.

  Real soon now.

  Veradantha and Pilot yos'Senchul were waiting for her at the door to Hearing Room Three.

  "Waitley," yos'Senchul said, his hand giving her a simultaneous, Welcome. He bowed slightly, which was perhaps a sign of the seriousness of the moment.

  Veradantha merely nodded. "You are prompt, Theo Waitley. This is good. You display a becoming lack of anger. This is also good. The matter before us should not take much of our time. Be sober, be thoughtful, be alert, and all is well."

  "Yes, ma'am," Theo said, looking between the two of them.

  "We are here as your advisors," yos'Senchul said, moving his hand toward the door. "Please, after you."

  At the table between her two advisors, Theo made sure she had her back against the chair, folded her hands on the table, and advertently noted the location of the second door.

  As she settled and looked around, she was aware of the solemn patience of both of her tablemates.

  Between them they'd had a lot of practice being patient, she supposed, with Flight Instructor yos'Senchul having to deal with wannabe pilots all the time, and Veradantha—and Veradantha having had more years than Theo could imagine to . . . and there, so much for patience. Veradantha placed a small flat object on the table, flashed her hand over it, and settled back, at ease now that the clock was running.

  People were settling into place at the other tables. Wilsmyth sat with an administrator or teacher she didn't recognize, pointedly looking away from her, mostly at the pile of hard copy in front of him.

  Chelly was at the head table, such as it was—it was hard to have a head table with three rectangular tables arranged in a triangle shape and each with three chairs sitting behind it—but there he was, very busily not looking at her and not looking at Wil, either. Since Wil sat in the middle of his table as she did at hers, that left Chelly a tunnel straight ahead to look at, along with his notebook, and the people who flanked him. Wil's table still lacked his second advisor, but it wasn't quite the hour yet, according to Veradantha's clock, which was official enough for Theo.

  The door opened, admitting Commander Ronagy, who looked around, frowned and pulled the door sharply closed behind her.

  "Mister Frosher," she said, "please designate one of your associates to take the empty seat; I'll sit to your right at head table."

  Chelly looked to his right and left.

  "Dorts is a pilot," he said quietly, "so someone in Admin, it looks like. Goueva, that fits you several times."

  The plump woman lifted a hand in acknowledgment, gathered up her notebook, and moved over to Wilsmyth's table with a minimum of fuss. The Commander slid into the newly vacated chair.

  Right, Theo thought. Veradantha is here as Admin, too. Keeping track of jobs is hard.

  Chelly nodded all around as if counting, rapped quietly on the desk in front of him, and began the session.

  "Thank you all for coming on short notice; as desk man on Ops the decision to convene is my responsibility. This is an informal fact-finding session convened by the officers of the watch as per standing orders in instances where accidents or conflicts involve the need for medical intervention or staff attention; no notes are to be taken and no notes are to be taken away. Should no consensus be reached over the items under discussion this evening, a formal process will begin, possibly as soon as the close of this session."

  Chelly's voice was good and strong for all that he was reading from a cheat sheet, with the head of the academy by his side. "Does any member of this fact-finding wish to go directly to formal process? If so, please state your case now."

  Peripheral vision is a wonderful thing, except that it almost cost Theo an inadvertent laugh as hands on both sides of her flashed quick instructions, Veradantha's No perhaps a tenth-beat behind yos'Senchul's silence.

  Chelly looked around, checking with the others at the front table before looking toward Wil, and then, almost pointedly, at Theo. She refolded her hands—left over right—and looked right back at him. Inner calm.

  Chelly let the quiet stretch a moment longer, then nodded, naming all present so that he was sure who was who, and so they could be too, then returned to the cheat sheet.

  "With the consensus of all present parties I will state the situation as it came to the attention of Ops."

  Inner calm.

  Chelly's recitation was bare-boned: a call for medical assistance with security backup came during the early evening free-flight period, with a witness reporting "a discussion or something" between a pilot and the acting field coordinator during which one person "was just about knocked out one-handed" and the other was "bleeding to beat Betelgeuse."

  "A moment, Mr. Frosher."

  Chelly stopped, head turning rapidly. The Commander's hand motion was a soothing For clarity toward Chelly—and a scathing discussion talk talk discussion as she glanced between Wil and Theo. Her look was less than warm and Theo wished she had some tea to sip on.

  "I've been called from my dinner to discuss a discussion between two of our students? I see. Please continue."

  Theo felt as if she'd shrunk, but the flight instructor's briefly fluttering hand was calm: fly the ship.

  "Accounts vary somewhat," Chelly continued. "The witness suggests he became aware of an animated discussion in progress as the principals arrived, one which, I guess the word is 'escalated' because both parties were focused on different goals. The witness indicated that perhaps Pilot Waitley was refusing to thumbprint something and during the insistence, accidental contact occurred between the individuals and—"

  Theo's twitch was calmed by Veradantha's smooth, not a problem hand-sign. Wil, meanwhile, jerked 'round to glare at Theo.

  Chelly went on.

  "The result was that both parties went to the infirmary. Pilot Waitley suffered a flesh wound to the scalp; Wilsmyth suffered contusions and a few moments of disorientation."

  "First strike, Mr. Frosher?"

  This from the Commander.

  "The cameras might tell for sure, ma'am, but the sequence seems to have been an accidental . . . ummm . . . an accidental swipe of the notebook Wilsmyth carried, which caught Pilot Waitley by surprise. Pilot Waitley's response was, I gather, a move of the dance, a trained response."

  "Thank you. Please continue."

  "I ask the involved parties if the summary of events to this point is accurate."

  Theo sat back, thinking hard, willing away her blush, willing away her anger. Inner calm.

  "Yes, but—" Wilsmyth began, and stopped as a hand came to rest on his arm.

 
"I think yes," Theo managed. "That's what Bell would have seen. I mean, that's what happened, I guess. I got swiped upside the head and yeah, that dance move was right there. Automatic."

  Chelly glanced around, then down at his cheat sheet, nodding as if he were mentally clicking off options as he read them.

  "We have a situation that was not the result of an inherent fault in the physical plant of the academy, nor was it the direct result of catastrophic equipment failure, nor of procedure."

  He paused, nodded once more with authority, and went on.

  "Does any member of this fact-finding wish to go to formal process now? If so, please state your case."

  Theo could see Wilsmyth staring at his pilot advisor, and saw a flurry of low to the table hand-talk she couldn't get much out of. For her part, her hands were still after acknowledging Veradantha's low-voiced, "Please wait."

  Chelly looked about carefully and nodded. "Who will assert being a victim?"

  The relocated administrator was whispering urgently into Wilsmyth's ear, while at Theo's table, yos'Senchul signed an unruffled: best stay course.

  After a few moments Chelly tapped his cheat sheet, looking relieved.

  "We now go to a short discussion of events prior to the witness account. As no charges have been brought to this point and neither party has indicated a claim of victim, precedence goes to the senior."

  Theo vibrated with anger and tension, the phrase inner calm, inner calm bouncing around noisily in her head. Her advisors walked on either side of her, Veradantha professing a preference for something out of the ordinary, it being so late in the evening, while the flight instructor was saying something Theo wasn't quite catching about a simple snack from Toovil that could be had for a half-hour's flying.

  They left the building, cool air and silence flowing over them. Lost behind were Wilsmyth and his companions, who'd gone right when they'd taken the left at the end of the hall. Wil had been laughing, though she didn't think he had anything more to laugh about than she did.

  At that, she wiped her hand on her jacket sleeve again, She certainly hoped never to touch him again. Without a doubt laying him out on the floor was something he'd deserved, no matter how accidental, and shaking his hand may have satisfied custom in a way Father would have approved of, but it certainly hadn't satisfied her.

  "Orn Ald, that's fine for you to say, but some of us have meetings and classes in the morning."

  Hand-talk, compressed and sudden. Theo caught fix now quick and then realized they were heading at quite a pace toward the faculty airstrip.

  "Why did we have to act like losing my hours was an accident?"

  Theo tried not to whine but wasn't sure she'd succeeded.

  Veradantha spoke, gently, but not in answer to either the question or the tone.

  "Theo Waitley, my good friend Orn Ald and I wish, evidently, to speak with you outside the range of official ears."

  yos'Senchul's flashed a general query yes?

  "You are hungry, Theo?" he asked aloud.

  "Still mad," she confessed. "I ought to be hungry, I guess." She walked on, glad of the brisk pace, tension in her shoulders and inner calm starting to sound like a bad joke.

  "I understand your dismay, Pilot," yos'Senchul murmured. "Would you be kind enough to fly us to dinner? The flight will do us all good, I'm sure, and your choice at this point falls to deciding if you'd like to partake of local fried-and-spiced night snacks or a quiet dinner at an A-class restaurant?"

  She laughed.

  "You're serious? Fly us to dinner? I'm always hungry after."

  "Indeed. We all have had our routines disturbed by Wilsmyth's antics. Dinner will help. But what kind of meal?"

  "I'm not good for real fancy, I think."

  "Excellent. If you will step this way, there's a Star King VI to which I hold the keys." He pointed. A shiny, very new craft occupied the tie-down he indicated, "Also, if we choose carefully, we shall more than make up the 'split difference' between the account hours you've earned and those as recorded by Wilsmyth. In the bargain, we shall certify night hours."

  Theo almost stumbled, suddenly seeing what had happened—not only seeing it, but recognizing it. How many times had she seen Father bow his head, and seem to cede an argument—to her or to Kamele or to a visiting colleague—only to later deftly turn his defeat into victory?

  "Thank you," Theo said, fervently. "I should have known! Liadens know how to manage around red tape! Thank you for being on my side! I—"

  "Silence!"

  They all three stopped, the glare of the runway lights making them a tableau of dark cutouts across the access paths.

  Instructor yos'Senchul's jauntiness was gone, and before Theo stood a dangerous man. She felt some of the dance roused in her, and went back a step, wariness answering the set of his shoulders, the warning in his pose.

  Carefully, she raised her hands, fingers spread in the sign for no danger here.

  "Ah." Threat melted away; he inclined his head, hand-sketching an emphatic attend!

  "Student Waitley, this confrontation with Wilsmyth should teach us all much, but what it should not teach you, what you should never learn, is to trust and rely on someone simply because they are Liaden."

  Theo lowered her hands, slowly. "Yes, sir."

  "In this situation," yos'Senchul continued, "our goals align. As an instructor, I wish that a promising student is given the opportunity to prove herself without falling victim to petty politics and power struggles. You have acquitted yourself well this day, and I approve.

  "Always know where you stand with a Liaden, student. Do they deal with you as friend, then that is a rare gift—and one to be examined, closely. If they deal with you in business, deal carefully and accurately, and promise nothing you cannot perform. When dealing with pilots, treat as a pilot and you will be treated so. Assume nothing, however, about someone simply because they are Liaden. If you are not affiliated with a clan, a Liaden will treat you as disposable, if that is convenient. If you display melant'i, as you do, expect to be treated with respect. Do not expect benefits from Liadens. As with anyone, expect what you are given, assuming neither hostility nor grace—and be on guard for either."

  It left her breathless, his quiet vehemence. Theo did the only thing she felt able to do; she inclined her head.

  "Well put, my friend," Veradantha said, moving slowly but smoothly down the field. They followed, her voice trailing behind her like a silken scarf.

  "There is something in pilot lore which speaks to this, in fact. As a pilot, the usual rules of behavior on duty are assumed to include a number of things. Let us see—you may number them later if you like, and I will miss some." She raised a long forefinger in emphasis.

  "Always know where your ship is and in what state. Always carry an extra weapon—this assuming one always carries two weapons to begin with—your extra is preferably one you are willing to use for a last stand. Be prepared to fight—we know you know this one!—but be prepared also to run and to be small, for a dead, jailed or administratively restricted pilot flies no ship. When you walk in strange places be aware of those who may follow you, and though sitting with your back to the wall is useful, it is not always sufficient. Always know more than you tell, and share all of your secrets, even on your deathbed, only with those who will properly treasure them."

  They were close to the plane now, which shone with a flawless beauty.

  "And," said yos'Senchul, "except under extreme duress, always perform a pre-flight. Here is the key, Pilot; you will wish to do the walk, and then you will let us in to observe while you are PIC for this flight. I suggest either DurzAnn's, with the guaranteed grittiest Gar-grilled, or Hugglelans, where you may have anything, as long as you eat it under red sauce."

  Sixteen

  Conglomeration of Portcalay

  Eylot

  "I doubt I've managed to cross all four of those lakes on one flight before, Pilot. Well plotted!"

  Theo had filed a flight pl
an with those crossing points in it, recalling the Ts, as they were called: Turn Time Twist Throttle Talk of her early training; it gave her an excuse to see, if there was anything to see, and to practice timing the turns, adjusting the throttle, talking to air control . . .

  "Thank you, sir," she managed, wondering if she'd overstepped somewhere, but by then she was on the landing leg and had less time to be concerned than during the middle of the flight, when she was essentially flying on instruments above the dense blackness of a lake.

  The "King Six," as yos'Senchul had it, could have flown itself from campus to Portcalay if necessary. Theo daren't waste flight time, though, and she hugged every second to herself like a precious thing. The night challenge was not as daunting as she'd expected, though no doubt the fine weather helped that. If either of her mentors noticed that she took the sightseers' route, crossing the mountain as well as three rivers and four lakes, they chose not to mention it, beyond yos'Senchul's remark.

  The instruments were familiar enough, as were the flight controls, and from her vantage in the pilot's seat she couldn't see the handspan difference in rated wing length, though she certainly felt the more powerful engines from the instant she touched the throttle.

  The details though: remembering the right way to sync with the local and regional traffic control, remembering to use the correct aircraft designation, remembering to use a social rate of climb in general airspace, making sure she covered everything in the pre-flight check. Theo sighed. The King Six sure was pretty!

  The flight instructor took the radio briefly, calling ahead to reserve a table, using her flight plan numbers without hesitation and without consultation, declaring himself, "yos'Senchul, sitting second."

  That was both a thrill and a chill—surely she had a lot to learn before she rated a copilot!

  The plane was so well-behaved that Theo did get to sightsee, both over the mountains and the lakes, and now across plain and lake, looking north to the nearly edge-on lights of the planet's largest spaceport and manufacturing center, and south across the sudden divide into the crisscross of the commercial farm belt. The radar kept her company, and ground control; several times she sighted the beacon lights of aircraft in the distance, and identified them by the scan.