by Sharon Lee
If she wasn't lucky, he'd haul in a new set of silhouette training vids, not that she couldn't already identify forty-seven major ship styles and thirty-six uniques, including the top ten trade ships. Diamon Lines Chanticleer City? No problem. Korval's Dutiful Passage? She knew it from six directions, even though she'd never really seen it, either. Scout ships? She had them down by the dozen. Fah! That's what came of telling Tranza she'd caught a ghost ship in the screens when he was off-board and asleep. He wasn't going to let up until they found it all legal and ID'd in a sanctioned pack, since he'd taken polite leave to doubt the lacework sketch she'd provided.
Well, at least she hadn't had any repeat sightings in—well, in a good long while.
Once they'd dropped off their initial minipods they got that rest order, so on short notice she'd managed to cut to an inner orbit, and from there to the ground, with Theo getting a grand total of a walk to the local crew store and cafeteria and a visit to the pet library where she got to talk to a norbear for a few minutes between crowds of littlies on a field trip. That'd made her wonder why she'd never seen a norbear on Delgado but it was probably rules made up by the Safties.
The other good thing was that, after she visited the norbear, she'd gotten to see the birds, flying free, something that made her startlingly happy. Birds were oddities on Delgado, and the ones on Eylot were all tiny and stupid, but here on . . . wherever they were—Alanzia it must be. Here on Alanzia birds were protected as treasures, with even ship landings following paths strictly set to avoid nesting areas. Many of them had amazing wingspans and soaring habits that made them look like undergrown sailwings. Only good hearing had prevented her from being run down on the pathways, since she so often just stopped to take in the sight.
And then it was back to the ship, and now she could name Alanzia as planet number twenty-two that she'd set foot on, and likely number fourteen that she'd sat board for liftoff. Somewhere in her personal log she had a complete list of the ports, orbiting or not, and her time at the board and all that—but mostly she was keeping busy.
As for Tranza's binge, who could tell what it would be this time around? No doubt, it was something he'd picked up on Alanzia. He'd rushed back with several packages, asking after messages and delays, offering up advice to pull trip info on half a dozen potentials assuming a run to Volmer, of all places.
No, maybe she could guess. Her first trip out he'd mentioned music archives on half a dozen planets, Alanzia among them, since he'd just bought a run of a hundred different songs without instruments. He'd spent the first twelve-day with her breaking into what he assumed was singing at the oddest moments, and then he'd shown up for dinner with a tablet drum and some chimes so they could play music together, in between bouts of her learning, of course.
And that's the way it had been, him insisting that a pilot who wasn't learning was wasting what the universe was about, and periodically going off on tears of this or that amusement or pastime, in between bouts of sim flying, math games, and the like. He'd insisted that she keep up the ship-spotting regimen, saying that sometimes you needed to know without waiting for a computer to tell you, exactly what ship it was you'd got on the screen, or in your cross hairs. Some trips he'd spend all his time behind her shoulders, watching every move, and others he turned off the outer world and binged on drawing, or playing the flute. He'd tried to emulate her needle-play, but as good as he was at it, he didn't find it engaging. In fact they didn't agree on much in the way of music or art or theater or restful pastimes.
"Oh no," he told her the one time she dragged out a bowli ball, "not even a little bit, not on board Primadonna. We get to some place with room, I might play, but you come with a reputation, so maybe not. That goes away and I don't see it."
If Tranza was anything, it was protective of his ship.
"This vessel was first put in service the very day I got my jacket," he'd told her before she sat second board for the first time, "and I intend to see it in service the day I die. The company put me in here fifteen years ago and I won't have anyone at the controls who hasn't got a sense of proportion, control, and respect!"
The conversation had gotten a little odd after that, with him going on about her coming highly recommended, and asking why it was that they'd delivered her mid-session if she'd been at the academy.
"I'm suspended," she'd told him bleakly, knowing that someone should have given him a clue that she wasn't a top-scholar type of pilot, "and the folks at Hugglelans helped me get off-planet before I got in more trouble."
"Suspended? What did you do? Cheat on exams or—"
"Pilot, didn't anyone tell you? They say I started a riot!"
He'd sat back then, looking extremely solemn, and half-nodded.
"Started a riot. At Anlingdin Academy, was it?"
She'd flashed a hand-sign, confirm.
"Right. Well, here's the deal, Pilot Theo. You riot on your time, not on mine. If we're in port and you're a hellcat or a head-banging drunk, that's your problem until you get arrested and kept, or until you can't find the ship and be ready to fly it when the ship needs you. Portside I give you a comm, and you always have one ear for the ship: there's no such thing as unlimited liberty unless you're between runs, you got it? You and a choir can have plans for a Hundred Hours but if I call and say Primadonna needs you, you'll leave 'em all aching if that's where they are, because the ship's the thing. Right."
He tended to nod when he said right, and he looked at her, as if "right" was a command or a given and not a question.
With trepidation, knowing she was already too far away from everywhere and everybody she knew to say no, she'd agreed with a solemn nod and, "Right!"
Then he turned, pointed to the second seat, and said, "Sit. Get the seat adjusted. While you do that, I'll tell you about my first riot. I never did riot at school though, so you got me beat to start."
True to form, Tranza was humming as the ship moved to the pad, humming, breaking into bits of syncopated bops and boops, and doing something he rarely did, which was—dusting the bridge. He did like the ship to be clean, but now, in the reverie no doubt inspired by whatever music file he'd programmed into his ear buds he was actively dusting and shining things. He liked to be busy, but this—maybe he'd returned with something stronger than just music.
The trip info request that most got her interest was the run, here to Volmer to Clarion to Delgado to Vratha, though there was another one, starting from Volmer to Granby to Hellsport to Eylot that also caught her attention. She'd been kept away from Eylot these last two years and really didn't care to change that if she could avoid it. Kara's last bit of news from there indicated she'd gotten her second class rating and a temp job at Codrescu working as troubleshooter in the nearspace yard had been good, but seeing the new "block of 'crete" security building where DCCT had been was not in her plans.
The timeline was pretty short here, so as soon as she felt the ship halt, Theo flung herself into the seat, mindful of Tranza's earlier, "just sit First, I'll be busy during lift . . ." as he'd peered into a bag full of music chips.
She began before Tower did: It was time to get out of here as far as she was concerned.
"Theo Waitley, first seat Primadonna, acknowledging all connections lit, all connections good, all signal strength nominal, all ranging information green, sync green, we're on a rolling billable hold waiting a delivery."
Tranza was really going at the cleaning bit now, even wiping down the brightwork beneath the third and fourth seats in the back of the cabin, swiping down the seat tops—
"Heard here, Pilot Waitley is the contact, Primadonna is go except for paper hold billed by the second to Hugglelans Galactica. Your lift is approved to a 99-minute initial for the next two tenths . . . after that I'm afraid you'll be looking at an admin wait. . . ."
The viewscreeens showed the port from five angles, and the close ramp was still docked to—
There!
Someone was hurrying, a pilot by the motion, wearin
g a hat and a backpack and pulling a small bright red-and-blue striped bag behind, the green jacket looking like a Hugglelans crew coat from any of two dozen worlds. The overemphasized hand-signal from the figure was clear enough, and the port call came through—
"Internal delivery from Hugglelans on the way, is this your package?"
Tranza was suddenly behind her shoulders, nodding, muttering, "Striped bag it is, that'd be good; clear access, tell them clear access and ask for a three-hundred count and lift if it's available."
"Clear access," Theo repeated to Tower. "I'm opening for package, please give us a three-hundred count if you've got one."
Elsewhere in the screens there was motion as a ship lifted, and then the view of another landing, and the reply:
"You've got a three-twenty-five count on my mark. Three-twenty-five coming up—"
"Three-twenty-five, yes," Theo repeated, and she saw Tranza touch the stud to open the lower door, counting in her head that he ought to be down there if they were going to clear in time for the delivery person to get clear.
"Mark in five, please give full check, Primadonna."
The mark came in the middle of the check, actually, and she could hear Tranza's voice boom, "Damned striped bag still traveling, is it?"
The count went on, Theo now immersed in pointing the ship to a slot in a crowded sky, to a slot in a crowded orbit, to a run to a slightly less crowded Jump-safe zone.
The noises below subsided, Tranza yelled, "Commit."
One hundred and ten.
"We have commit," Theo said.
"Repeat, Pilot."
"We have commit."
There was sound in the cabin, the noise of feet, of a rolling bag, and Theo said "Tranza, strap in, Pilot."
There followed an unexpected melodious laugh, and another, and Theo's eyes left the board long enough to take in the sight of a woman with long fine black hair throwing her hat to the third seat, tying her bags there and flinging herself to the fourth, and Tranza, aglow, dropping into second seat.
"Ninety-two."
The woman leaned in Theo's direction, "Pilot, thank you for waiting. I am, in case you have not been informed, Master Pilot Mayko Ikari, Second Son of House Hugglelans."
Ground demanded attention then, and so did the ship as she did a fine rebalance for the new mass, and she glared at Tranza, to the amusement of their passenger.
"He's like this all the time, isn't he?" said Mayko Ikari from behind her. "But it will be fine, for I have discovered a master trove of music, and he will be singing in strange tongues for the next year, too busy to notice that you are rightly peeved!"
Theo formed a quick hand-sign of welcome, and another, aimed toward Tranza that translated roughly into goat-furred ground-hugger.
"Glad to meet you, Second Son. I am acquainted with Aito, and—"
"Yes, I know, and that's why I hope to rescue you from Tranza's care. But we can speak later, Pilot. I'd not want to distract your liftoff."
The autocount went on, and Tranza's voice, low, asked—
"What do you have? Dances? Choir? Quartets or trios? I could use some—"
"Belt please, Tranza!" Theo demanded as his seat light was still orange.
The master pilot giggled, Tranza snapped his webbing, and Primadonna lifted.
Thirty-Four
Primadonna
Out from Alanzia
" 'Pilot,' please, Pilot, or even 'Mayko,' if you may be Theo."
The master pilot sat second board while Tranza was off coaxing what he called a "quick picnic" from the small galley. The sounds—especially Tranza's complaints of the limitations of Primadonna's oven and breadmaker—made it sound like he expected a dozen guests arriving to stay for a week of major merrymaking.
Theo, in the midst of calculating the newest suggestion from the woman because of what Theo considered avoidable congestion in the primary orbit, fluttered a good plan and then wrinkled her nose.
"I can't see why those ships are all over the place . . ." The chatter from those ships was live on all the hailing bands and seemed not to make much sense; lots of ships announcing they had pods and partial pods free, offering to broker, offering to subcontract, and Alanzia control all but throwing up their hands at making the flow of noise and ships work, other than multiple requests to tone down shields and please be sure weapons were offline.
"Many ships are arriving here, which is why we depart posthaste," Mayko said. "We will be much better positioned than they!"
"Positioned where?" Theo wondered aloud, "Is this the point you were suggesting?" she added, shuttling some figures over to the second screen. "I mean, if we need to be out soonest we can just request a release and cut away from the ecliptic; we can avoid the incoming rush and the ship's got the power to make that Jump as soon as we're out of range of anyone else." She sent a second set of figures: "Like this. It's expensive in power, but if time is of the essence . . ."
"Very good idea, Theo; that would work, too, and—well, what we would like is to be in someplace where we can get an advantage on the upwelling of new routes. You're the pilot, after all, so we should be clear what our goals are."
"New routes?"
"Yes, I suppose you are some behind on the news. What we have here are politics going on . . . extensively. The Yxtrang, some time ago they were beaten back from Lytaxin; it was a sudden attack and they were surprised by forces on-world. A mercenary unit was there, and of course Lytaxin is an ally of Korval. It was ill-advised of the Yxtrang, surely, to take on such. Dutiful Passage herself was called from shipping duty to become a battleship, and this . . . unbalanced other routes and schedules. Korval has recalled many ships from their usual routes. No one is quite sure where this is going, but everyone wishes to realize what profit they may!"
"Hah," Theo said softly, almost turning it into a sigh. "So the allies on Lytaxin took their problem to the Delm of Korval!"
"Well, yes," the pilot admitted after a pause, "or to the First Speaker; I gather there is much confusion in the ether about the situation with Delm Korval, but allies are allies, after all. Surely if Korval is arming ships and Liad is in turmoil because of it, there is money to be made in shipping!"
Armed ships were something they'd avoided talking about at the academy, and though she'd twice effectively fired the short range beams Primadonna carried, the pair of victims had been unsuspecting space junk in an asteroid belt, the better to demonstrate Primadonna's meteor shields as well as its weapons.
Very early in her introduction to the ship Tranza had been really clear that Primadonna was built for agility and speed. "Run, right? Run is the advice I mostly have for you if you get in a spot where people are shooting at you in space. And if someone's running shields, there's no harm in having what shields you have on as well. See here, though, Primadonna's not a warhorse, and we're not training for combat. We're just checking out the equipment, so you're up on it. No good reason to go shooting asteroids, too; some of them are pocked with gas and dust and can whump up a hell of a geyser on you if you aren't lucky. Best bet is to leave the weapons switches set to off/off/disarmed unless things are dicey."
Tranza ducked his head into view from the galley, waving what might have been a ball of dough.
"If pilots on the board would be so kind, I'd like to have an idea of likely meal schedules this shift. We have a lot to catch up on and I'd like the cooking to be done on time."
Tranza's schedule matched Theo's perfectly; they put the ship on auto, with a master pilot, a first class pilot, and a second class pilot all within quick reach of the boards and nothing but a half-shift's worth of just under one g acceleration on the agenda. The ship was full of the smell of bread, and the picnic was introduced with, "Right, we have two breads and dessert, and since we're just away from the gardens of Alanzia, we're full of fresh salad! I have to say this is a lot better lunch than I got my last shift with Mayko."
His hands were busy with hand-talk between handing over the vittles; Theo picked
up something about silly packing errors and always check invoice against items.
Mayko laughed, which she did a lot, though she put her hand in front of her face when she did as if she was hiding.
"Rig put up with a lot with me, you know," she said, waving the roll he'd handed her at Theo as if it were evidence. "He had my training, as he has had yours, and toward the end I was doing all of the ship's ordering. I'm afraid I let my experience at the Howsenda overtake my mind and I ordered by number, from memory . . . we ended up with a five-day of young children's meals for the end of the run."
"Strained fruits and strained imitation meats with imitation sauce and imitation . . ."
She laughed again.
"No, Rig, say true. They were Howsenda meals, so they were all real. And for what they were, they were good."
"Right. They were real good and strained. And not much of them, either."
They bantered their way through two courses, with a remove of coffee for Rig and the master pilot, and tea for Theo. During the meal, Theo several times rose to manually check the instruments and did the same before dessert. It was with dessert that Mayko went from sudden passenger to official business, a flash of hand-talk becoming mission Information follows.
"First, yes, first comes the Hugglelans business. I have brought with me, Theo, a lot of information that will be going out to all working pilots on routes. You will both get complete copies, of course, and I will expect you to know the information since your life may depend on it. In addition, route managers and lead pilots get an overview I expect you both to read, and I will of course expect both of you to be fully up-to-date on these by the time our trip is over.
"The short form is that there are, as I mentioned, major opportunities for shippers at the moment, and for pilots. We at Hugglelans are at a point that we hope to add an extra full-scale planetary base or two within the next decade, and certainly to add capacity and personnel to match. The alteration on the Liaden side of things makes this an excellent time for us to push forward. I have brought updated contracts for you, assuming you wish to continue employment with Hugglelans under these new circumstances, which we will have confirmed by the end of the trip. Rest assured that we value your service and wish you to be a part of the expansion program."
