Unknown - Sharon Lee And Steve Miller - Liaden Universe 10 - Fledgling-ARC

"Sedation that you administer is always perfectly safe, Pilot," her new instructor said calmly. Three steps further along, he spoke again.

"We have a thing that we say, Pilot, in such circumstances as you find yourself. It is... advice, and also an expression of... comradeship."

"What..." Theo cleared her throat. "What is it?"

"Watch your back."

Chapter Thirty-Five

Efraim Agricultural Zone

The house was simple to the point of dullness. Each room they passed through was the twin of the room they had just quit, identical down to the grain of the floor.

At the fifth room, their guide paused and turned to them, black lenses flashing briefly.

"The study of simplicity is not lightly undertaken, nor easily put aside," she stated, which was right out of the Book of Plain Thought.

Still, Jen Sar thought, critically, she might have done worse. Had he not himself been engaged in the study of simplicity for many years? Granted, in his case, he thought of the study more in the light of self-defense, but surely the basic thesis was sound.

"One wishes to continue," he said, meeting the opaque glance calmly.

"One's purpose is constant," Appletorn added, which made for oddly comforting hearing.

The Chapelia turned, her robes whispering to the floor, and walked on.

* * * *

"What is this, Pilot Waitley?" Instructor Arman demanded.

Theo sighed. She'd come into class in the middle of Practical Repair – and a good thing, too.

According to Jeren, who was lead on the project, the team's repair project was styled a janci-wagon; he promised to let her ride it, once they had it working again. Since Theo was the smallest, she got to do the close-in, under-carriage work, while Jeren, who was considerably larger, but knew what needed done, watched on the remote and guided her through the steps. She'd just identified the crushed bus link, and was getting her guide splice into position to chomp in a new one. If she had to leave it now, she'd lose whole minutes of nasty, tight fiddling...

"Pilot?" The pilot-instructor sounded... irritated.

" Theo..." Jeren breathed.

Right. Grumbling to herself, she twisted and peered out from beneath the low-lift. Pilot Arman stood some dozen steps away, and he was holding...

"A bowli ball," she answered, and suddenly frowned, slamming the hatch to as she rolled out from under the lift and came to her feet. " My bowli ball. That was in my luggage!"

Pilot Arman looked down his beaked nose at her, blue eyes mocking.

"And that is where it was found, in your luggage. Everything that enters this wing is inspected by Security. The potential risk to pilots, if we did not, is unacceptable."

Theo took a breath, trying to cool the anger tingling at her fingertips and along her nerves.

"You know that a bowli ball's no risk to pilots," she said, and held out her hand. "It's mine. Give it back."

"Yet you would have had me believe earlier that you are no pilot," he said, holding the ball – her gift from Win Ton! – negligently in his hand, like it was someone else's dishes that he was carrying to the disposal.

Her eyes stung, and she swallowed. It would be worse, she thought, to cry in front of this man than to lose her temper. Though it wouldn't be smart to lose her temper, either.

"That's my bowli ball," she said again, her voice sounding clipped, like Kamele's did when she was trying not to lose her temper. "It was given to me by – by a good friend, and I – I'd like it back. Please."

Pilot Arman tipped his head to one side, as if considering whether she'd asked politely enough.

"I understand," he said at last. "Catch."

He threw the ball, hard, straight at the floor. It twisted, gyros screaming, reversed itself, and shot to the left. Theo jumped, got a hand on it, and spun, cuddling the ball against her side. She hit the floor lightly, spinning, and came to rest in one of Phobai's favorite menfri'at positions, facing Pilot Arman.

He smiled at her and raised his hands, fingers flicking careful, no threat, stand down at her, the signs as hard as pebbles.

"I see that the bowli ball is, indeed, yours, Pilot."

Theo took a breath, though she didn't relax. "It is, and I intend to keep it," she said flatly.

"Of course," he answered, as if it had never been in doubt. "You carry it by right; you know that it is not a toy. That is well. Now." He held out his hand. "Your badge, if you please."

He wore the blue shirt, and he was her instructor.

Win-win, thought Theo, around a chill of dread. She stepped forward, detached the pink badge, and held it out to him.

He received it with a slight nod, and slipped it away into his shirt pocket.

"This," he said, producing a green badge like Jeren wore, "will identify you to all as a pilot. As with the other, you will wear it at all times, and surrender it only to Security, to myself, or to a senior pilot. Am I clear?"

Theo nodded, and pressed the new badge into place. "Yes, sir."

"Excellent. You may resume your work."

* * * *

The sixth room was not a precise duplicate of all the other rooms they had passed through previously, nor was the person behind the desk indistinguishable from every other Chapelia he had ever beheld. Startlingly, her face was free of bindings, showing velvet brown skin stretched tight over strong bones. The black lenses lay to hand, on the desk by her mumu. Her eyes were pale blue, rich as silver against that dark skin.

She shook her head as he and Appletorn crossed the threshold, the door closed behind them by their soft-footed guide.

"The University of Delgado sends us a brace of men," she said, and her voice was the voice of all Chapelia, sexless and atonal.

"Indeed, no," Jen Sar told her, approaching the desk nearly. "We came on our own judgment."

"Is that meant to reassure me?"

"Is reassurance simple?" Appletorn asked, coming to stand beside Jen Sar.

"One who is truly simple requires no reassurances," Jen Sar answered, "for to doubt is to embrace complexity."

"Neither of you is simple," the Chapelia behind the desk stated. "Nor have you come seeking a rare simplicity."

Jen Sar lifted an eyebrow. "You might have turned us away at the door," he pointed out, "if our reasons were inadequate."

"Your reason was directly out of the Second Book." She frowned. "Of course, I must see you, or compromise the simplicity of the doorkeeper."

"Ah," said Jen Sar, who had indeed chosen his response for just that reason.

Her frown deepened. "State your case, simply."

"Indeed, indeed." He bowed, palm pushing his cane firmly against the floor. "We come to ask a simple question: Are the Chapelia involved with the Serpent AI which has infected scholarship within the Wall?"

Silence for the space of three heartbeats.

"That is no simple question," she said.

"It's a very simple question," Appletorn said, surprisingly. "Complexity arises in the answer. I have another question, simpler than that which my colleague poses."

She opened her silver eyes wide. "Ask this very simple question, then."

"Gladly," Appletorn said. "Are the Chapelia willing to starve?"

* * * *

"Here we are, Scholars, the Beltaire archive."

Kamele looked about the thin, dank hallway which marked the end of their several descents. Three elevators, the third one an express with but this one destination, so the Research Team was informed. Kamele felt certain that they were in the original treasure house, buried far below the planet's surface.

At the far end of the hall was a door. Director Pikelmin used her key-card and pushed it open, standing courteously aside to allow the scholars to precede her.