Sharon Lee: - Prologue

"You'd think somebody whose family owns tradeships would know how to pack," he said.

Head and shoulders inside the bottommost storage compartment, Asu sniffed. "We own them," she said, her voice echoing hollowly, "we do not live on them."

"Yeah, well, you think you'll have all this stuff stowed soon? It's gotta be put away—those're regs, and if the house father does an inspect while you're at class, he can clean up anything that's not in its place." He grimaced. "He gets a real buzz outta cleaning up after newbies."

"Thank you," Asu said, emerging carefully from the compartment, and sitting back on her heels. She ran a hand through her damp curls. Unfairly, they sprang neatly back into place, unlike Theo's hair, which had frizzed out into its most uncombable.

"Were you in this room . . . last semester?" Theo asked Chelly, and then wondered why she cared.

He nodded. "Yeah. I was top bunk. Panvay was senior—she challenged out. Tildenburg was low bunk—he flunked out. Finally ."

"Finally?" That final word even caught Asu, who gave Chelly an over-the-shoulder look.

"Yeah, he should've been outta here before the end of his second semester, but his family paid the fee and convinced Ronagy he'd stick with the program. Only he just did the same thing over again, like he couldn't help himself, and flunked again, just like the first time and—that was it." He shook his head. "It wasn't like Pan didn't tell him, or like he didn't know, it—" Another head shake. "Didn't want to be a pilot, is what it came down to. His parents, they wanted it. Tildenburg, he wanted to be a poet."

"A person may be both a poet and a pilot," Asu said soberly.

"Not," Chelly answered, "if you only work on the poet side." He looked around again and shook his head.

"Look," he said. "I am the senior and I'm telling you this straight—" His hands moved lightly: affirm, affirm. "You gotta get this stuff stowed and get some downtime. When you start on-mester you get a couple days' slack while you catch on to things, 'cause everybody's slow and sleepy, see? But the off-shift—you guys are gonna go into classes that are already moving and they're gonna expect you to run to keep up—and no whining. I'm telling you."

"Thanks," Theo said. "But why are you telling us?"

He looked up at her, strong eyebrows pulled over blue eyes. "I'm senior," he repeated. "And I'm on command track. If you two screw up, it's gonna go against me, too."

Asu laughed.

Chelly glared at the back of her head, then transferred his glare to Theo, who did her best to keep her face neutral.

"I'm going to bed," he said, turning away. "Try to get sensible, right?"

"Sleep well, Chelly Frosher," Asu caroled brightly. He didn't answer, and Theo really couldn't blame him.

"Why'd you laugh when he said he'd get marked down if we flunked out on his watch?" Theo asked as Asu climbed to her feet.

The taller girl put her elbows on Theo's bunk and smiled.

"He admits to an interest," she said, around a yawn. "Therefore, we have leverage."

"Oh," Theo said, and looked over the edge of the bunk at the wreckage below. It seemed to her that Asu had managed to get an astonishing amount of stuff stowed while seeming to be ineffective. Unfortunately, that still left a lot to put . . . somewhere.

"Theo, I cannot help but notice that you have unused space," Asu said, and Theo sighed.

"We've been—" she began, and blinked, remembering the dusty smell of rugs and an old woman's voice: No dickering here, I see !

She considered the side of Asu's face, and decided the other girl looked at least as tired as she felt. The sooner the stuff got put away, the sooner they both could get some rest after what had become a really, really long day.

"You want some of my extra storage?" she asked Asu. The other girl smiled.

"It would be a boon."

"No, it wouldn't," Theo corrected her, and reached out to tap two of the three empty cubbies. "Trade for them."

Asu raised her head and stared at the mess all around, before looking seriously into Theo's face.

"I cannot promise or incur a debt in the name of Diamon Lines," she said finally, hands giving emphasis to the point.

"Diamon Lines isn't sleeping in the bunk below mine," Theo said. "I want an IOU, redeemable at a future time for one favor. Deal?"

Once again, Asu glanced about her. She sighed, and held a hand out to Theo.

"Done," she said, barely touching Theo's fingers before reaching past her to open the first empty cubby.

Four

Academy Flight GT S14

Anlingdin Piloting Academy

Slipper Fourteen felt like home today; no longer an alien environment to be overcome but a friendly, trusted place, a place without the constant sniping between Asu and Chelly, a place where her motions were simple and sufficient, a place where the instructor looked over her shoulder only by instrument, his voice brought to her by the ear bud, and that not often; she'd wondered these last five flights if he'd monitored her at all.

The craft's cockpit was tiny, hardly more than a stiffly padded lay-back seat and some hand controls and pedals yoked electrically to the airfoils, with a tight-sealed canopy a hand's-width in front of her face that let the wind slip past. Boarding it was like slipping into her proper skin, especially with the belt-web forming itself to her so carefully after she touched the locking stud.

The tow drone's pace was sufficient for her to test her skill at boxing the wake without being bored: she moved to the right with the tow rope taut, then down below the wake, then left to the other side of the box, up, and centered again, the whole while using her slip-string to help guide her by sight as the other instruments.

Otto El, the glider instructor, insisted that each trainee bring and mount their own slip-string; just as he insisted that each trainee personally inspect the craft before each takeoff and after every landing.

"It is good to see what you have done," he'd told the small assembled class of five on their first meeting, "and it is good to see that your vessel is able before you trust your life and the lives of others to it!"

The slender wings were well behind Theo's position as the Slipper rose; today's preflight inspection had shown the outer left wing stained and scraped—grass stains. She'd immediately entered that into her logbook, lifted the wing to inspect it, attempted to flex it and probed at it with her hand and stylus. Pilot El had nodded as she made her verbal report and inquired about it.

"Yes, good. There was an awkward moment for someone in a crosswind landing yesterday; we've imaged it and everything is fine. You'll find it noted in the ship's log."

By the third class they'd lost two of their class members, one apparently to basic homesickness and the other to something Asu darkly called a "hyper-dense Code Ten Fifty-Six"—but there, Asu had been in three much larger classes with the boy. The Ten Fifties were the mental fitness codes if Theo recalled correctly, and the result was that Pilot El was pleased to go on an accelerated one-on-one with the remaining three students.

"We can all move to the power segments much faster now," he said, "and you three, very soon, will be able to walk with wings on your shoulders."

The wings he promised were more than metaphysical: while some of the astronautics group went without the atmospheric license, deeming it a useless artifact, there was, after all, still a living to be made in flying atmospheric and near-world craft.

The drone's beeped report echoed what Theo'd already felt: they were comfortably topped out and had a good steady flight, and maybe a chance to ride the front wave down Kirky's Range.