Sharon Lee - - Prologue

Theo looked to yos'Senchul, who gave a wry grin.

"Everything that is not emergency is entertainment for a yard pilot, Pilot. Everything."

yos'Senchul was off to conclude his business, whatever it was. Theo sat with eyes half-closed, having counted hours and duties. She could add those to her skill count immediately, which made her very happy . . . and she thought back over the last few hours, getting them firm in her memory.

When yos'Senchul had offered her the chance to pilot for him, she'd assumed the Star King until he said Codrescu.

"Shall we meet at the field after you change," he'd asked, "and get your cards and—"

Theo shook her head, "I'm fine now, as long as we're not going to fancy dinner or something."

He laughed, "But you have with you—"

"Father didn't tell me a lot about piloting, but he did say that a pilot should always be able to lift immediately."

She patted the pockets of her vest and slacks, "My cards, up to date, here. I have a couple ration bars, I have the emergency transceiver under the lining of the vest, the nearspace chart in flimsy and the updated stick, with the comm freqs for the system, too, the . . ."

"Ah. Then your father was a courier pilot. It can be good to follow a clan's . . ."

She'd flushed.

"I don't know," she admitted.

yos'Senchul had hesitated, as if he'd felt her discomfort, and bowed, gently, maybe meaning to soothe her.

"As the pilot is well prepared, we shall leave on the instant. There will be some introduction to the craft, of course."

The introduction to the craft had been scary in its sketchiness once they got past the security check. They did a manual walk-around first, with yos'Senchul clearly taking it seriously, down to inspecting the still-connected power and comm loops as well as the tie-downs.

Once on board he was as thorough, directing her to follow his lead. Not only did he review the ship's own records and images, which Theo thought was careful enough, but he downloaded the field's view of the ship back to his last exit, certifying that he'd been the last person on board. In all of this he was as businesslike as always, yet less calming than Theo usually found him. He seemed infused with a strange energy, as if he'd been playing bowli ball.

But of the Cherpa , the basics: how to recognize engine failure and abort limits, clarity on the locations of emergency equipment, a reminder of which air controllers she'd need to speak to, then systems check to launch-readiness once, with her call in as Pilot-in-Command, and systems check and security scan again as they lifted.

Theo had been busy enough for the lift and the first overboost; it was not until they'd passed into the "wings don't work here" of the mesosphere that yos'Senchul relaxed. Theo was certain that she'd made him nervous, that she'd missed some important procedure, but when he spoke to her it was as if to a comrade.

"Pilot," he said, "it always cheers me to have more of the atmosphere below me than above; and cheers me more to orbit. I'm told I share this weakness with other pilots, but truth told, some pilots are not like you and I, but are always looking down instead of up or out."

Theo'd been looking down right then, needing to confirm leaving controlled airspace behind, but she'd happily flashed an all agree all agree at him. A few moments later the ship began its slow throttle down, to the comfortable moment when it stopped as orbit was attained.

"This is good," Theo said then. "So far this is my favorite spot in a flight. The spot where weightless is normal."

She checked the boards one more time, recalled herself, and announced, "For the log, we are orbited and crew movement is now unrestricted."

She'd thought that was when the "hard work" of the trip would be over until landing, but yos'Senchul's elegant bow—he stood to deliver it!—and careful demeanor immediately chipped away at that feeling.

"It struck me, Pilot, that perhaps I have overstepped somehow, and that perhaps I will again. Forgive me, if you will, if my mention of your father was off- melant'i on Delgado; I had forgotten that the line of trace there was through Mother lines and not through clan. Yet your father, who did not teach you of hand-talk, nor of Liaden, but did teach of tea and gave excellent advice, did he not speak to you of other Liaden things, or of the news of clan that surely . . ."

Theo shook her head, suddenly missing Father immensely.

"He's never mentioned his clan. He helped me with the math, and convinced Kamele that Anlingdin was likely safe enough. He told me to keep the bowli ball hidden from civilians, to carry what I really needed on me at all times, and to always know where the back door is."

There was a moment of silence and a slow movement of the new hand.

"I see. The advice is good advice, I assure you."

He sat again, suddenly flipping his new hand through a series of hand-signs as if testing it as he watched. Caution Warning Alert Caution Warning Alert Caution Warning Alert Danger.

"In which case, not attached to clan as an offspring of Liad, and having given over the lifeworks of your mothers, there is information you will find useful and necessary, and which I, as a member of the Pilots Guild should share with you."

He looked at her seriously.

"This 'safe enough' you mentioned . . . it is not what I would call Eylot at the moment, though all at Anlingdin are not actively hostile. The display this day, a display of contempt, to bring such a device directly to the DCCT . . . ah . . . an attempt to produce random disruption among those most comfortable with . . . looking up and out. Not a welcome event, however well disguised as a mere prank."

"They were trying to hurt Kara? Or after Yberna?"

The instructor raised his hands. "Without a proper Healer to interpret, who can say? I think there was no single target, Pilot, but the group: who can know when which pilot will take up a bowli ball, eh?"

Theo nodded, but her hands were talking, suddenly echoing alert query, warning query, caution query, danger query.

"Yes," he allowed. "All of that. I can say, Pilot, that Eylot is becoming . . ." He paused, finger-talk describing the motion unstable , "Let us say disbalanced . Not physically, you understand," having seen her rapid glance at the board, "but the politics. Those of the Clans do not expand as rapidly, or as radically, as do some of the elements which desire to celebrate other genes.

"There are small efforts under way to do things which have heretofore been unnecessary. In some areas citizens wish to declare certain languages superior, in others to enact laws regarding access to schooling. And, given the rule of voting here, there are areas where the majority of the residents who may vote are of Terran extraction, and they are being given more opportunity to take advantage."

He looked at her carefully.

"You will note that in the past there may have been efforts by certain members of let us say, 'the other camp' to arrange things for their own benefit. It is what groups do. But, the focus of late has been on commerce, and on controlling commerce. And to control commerce . . ."

". . . you try to control pilots and ships," Theo finished the sentence, recalling the flaming debris of a small jet falling down a mountainside. "Will they stop—the guys with the bowli ball? I mean they're in such trouble!"

The instructor exhaled slowly.

"Yes, those two will likely stop. If the academy isn't able to remove them, surely their keepers will assure that they lie quiet, for a while. The major goal is to take control of pilots on planet, to require planetary registrations, to, in fact, require that all student slots at the academy go first to citizens of Eylot, and then to 'approved' groups."