Sharon Lee - - Prologue

"But my plans?"

"Your plans are to get there as quick as you can. We'll do that. Can't make the second Jump first though. Confirmation please, Second."

Tranza began to whistle a tune, and Mayko, studying the second board, joined in.

"Confirmed, Pilot Theo."

At this rate, they'd be out of the system in a tenth shift instead of a quarter, Theo thought, and that would do.

Theo lounged in the galley, eyes closed. On bridge, Tranza sat in the vacated First Chair, while Mayko retained Second.

"Pilot," came Mayko's call from the flight deck, "have you signed the contract yet? It would be good to—"

"I haven't," Theo admitted, "opened the file yet. Contracts are much harder for me than doing Jump equations in my head. I'll get six hours real downtime—at least—when we reach Volmer and look it over then."

"Pilot, when we reach Volmer we may want that done already in order to confirm—"

Somebody was pushing, Theo thought, around a spike of irritation. Did Mayko think she was going to lose the contract, or something?

"Sorry, Second," she said, "I'm on break unless there's a ship problem." She paused, counted to twelve, and asked, "Is there a ship problem?"

There was muttering in the background, Theo thought, and then realized it was Tranza singing one of his silly song snippets, something about "the ship Jonny B ."

"Rig, you're not helping!"

Theo waited a beat, then repeated her question.

"Is there a ship problem, flight deck?"

Again she could hear Tranza, this time singing something that sounded like "We had enough cooks for an army, and only one can of . . ."

"No, Pilot," came the reluctant reply, "there is not a ship problem."

"Right, Theo," Tranza confirmed. "None."

* * *

" Primadonna , we've got all green for you, welcome. Please inspect your tie-down and sign for it at the gate; we're showing this a field stop charged to Hugglelans Galactic. You've got a cart on the way and a hot pad available for a turnaround tomorrow at this time."

"Thanks for the welcome—and for the cart."

"Cart comes gratis. Can we get our updates here on channels seven and nine?"

Theo keyed in the channels and the updates went through, showing Pilot in Command as Theo Waitley and dual seconds of Rig Tranza, Captain, and Master Pilot Mayko Ikari.

"Hey there, Primadonna ," came another voice, this one full of energy. "We're holding high priority mail we can squirt through as soon as we get the certificates to talk to each other. One's a problem 'cause it's a special, may take a little time for that to finish up."

Problem mail?

Theo shrugged; she wasn't in a particular hurry to look at chained landing gear.

The trip to Volmer had gone without a ship problem, though Mayko managed to dredge up a fire alarm, two false positives on engine issues, a technical question on ship's financials, assorted runs of "what would you do if" and a really silly multilanguage drinking song that Tranza wouldn't stop humming once Mayko sang the first three verses.

Other than that—

The incoming screen lit, showing the Pilots Guild emblem.

"We have a private and confidential file for Pilot Theo Waitley, transcription through Pilots Guild encryption format. You'll need your card and certificate for this, and receive in person in the comm office."

"Theo," Mayko was saying, "we need to talk about the contract . . ."

"Right, you do," said Tranza, then saw the symbol on the screen.

"I'll do tie-down, Theo" he said, suddenly all business. "Go!"

She went.

Finding the comm office was easy once she parked the cart and entered the Guild port area; what was hard was keeping herself calm as the rest of the process unfolded. A pinbeam message? For her ? She'd never sent a pinbeam in her life and couldn't think of anyone she knew who'd send one, especially to her. Could something have happened to Father or to Kamele? Had Captain Cho and the Scouts decided to bill her for her failed education?

The Guild staffer checked her card, checked her against her card, checked her against the ship schedule, checked—she didn't know what they checked.

"RSVP," said the clerk neutrally. "That's free, well—prepaid. There's a return receipt that'll go as soon as you open it. You can take it in booth four; please record because we erase as it streams. You can send your reply any time within seventy-two Terran hours of receipt."

In the booth she inserted her card one more time, tagged her key to the connecting port, saw a series of letters go by and a warning that reading the following message without authorization was a breach of pilot ethics and . . .

Sweet Mystery , began the text, you are an amazement beyond measure. Kara ven'Arith supplies me with the start of my search and a history worthy of a dancer such as yourself. I commend you. The Pilots Guild supplies me with the filed plans of the good ship Primadonna , and thus you are found.

She took a breath, finally realizing she'd been holding it. Win Ton. Win Ton! Oh, what could be—

It is of utmost importance, my favorite dancer, that we meet together in person in the shortest possible time. I am prepared to meet you at any location you name, at Volmer if you like, to rendezvous on planet or station, to provide tickets for transportation from your current location to mine. Only tell me as soon as you may, I humbly beg of you, that you have received this message in good order and that you intend to be in touch with me in person, who gave you your first bowli ball. As friend and as pilot I swear that this is a necessary interruption of your life, and one that will not be forgotten.

There were so many hooks here, so many memories for someone she'd only spent a few days with, and a night.

I am and remain your friend and servant,

Win Ton yo'Vala

There followed a series of addresses she might reply to, starting with the autoreply and progressing four deep into what looked like port drop boxes in places he might expect to get to, including Solcintra, Liad.

She reread the message, from her own key, once it disappeared from the screen, and recalled that she still had copies of every message he'd ever sent.

She sighed, stood, stared at the empty screen. Maybe she could arrange to meet him at their next port, or something. She should answer him, quickly. Soon.

Yes, she should.

She danced a step to unkink her shoulder, and thoughtfully returned to Primadonna .

She felt that her arrival on-board had interrupted something. Tranza and Mayko lounged in the galley, hands moving energetically. She was good, but these two threw hand-signs fast as Jump, partial thoughts flying and being cut off by others, shared experience telling in the jabs and spikes of the motions, in the words left out.

Prominent in the first sighting had been Theo and also pilot today now ; but as soon as she was evident Tranza folded his hands and lapsed into a sweetly sung song of conquest and pillage.

Mayko glared at him, and nodded to her.

"The pilot returns to us, sooner rather than later, which is always good in a pilot on port. As you are present, we shall move on to topics left off in midflight."

Theo nodded, pleased that Mayko hadn't asked about her message, and grabbed one of the trayful of landing-pastries on the table.

"We were discussing, right," Tranza broke in, "we were discussing the flight. A fine flight."

Mayko sniffed. She stood, smooth and graceful, deliberately turning away from Tranza, and giving Theo an easy nod.

"As Rig says, we were discussing the flight. It appears that Aito was correct, and despite your run-ins with academic authority in the past, you are exactly the kind of pilot that Hugglelans—especially Hugglelans Galactic—wishes to employ. I would like to insure that we are of a mind on this, and so I ask if you might, now that we are at Volmer, open your contract and sign it."