by Sharon Lee
Calm and biddable, thought Kamele, dry-mouthed. The bus lurched slightly and began to move. The Treasure House fell rapidly behind them as Kamele stared at the window, seeing instead into memory.
She recalled Theo high over her head, dancing with Win Ton yo'Vala; Theo playing in the change-field on Vashtara; Theo, her hands busy with needle and thread; Jen Sar and Theo, dark head bent over light, reading a book together . . .
Is this how a Scholar of Delgado behaves? she asked herself, blinking damp eyes. Does she put everything—even the life of her child—behind her scholarship? If Theo . . .
But if Theo had taken harm, what could she do, beside gather her child close and take her safely home?
* * *
"Pilot Waitley."
Theo stopped on the threshold of her dorm room, blinking at Pilot Arman and another man in a blue shirt.
"Sir?" she said experimentally. "I'm supposed to get down to Port Three, right now."
"Exactly," said Pilot Arman. "We are your escort."
"Please," the other man said. He stepped to one side, clearing her route, his fingers flickering a command to Move quick! Ship waits for no one!
She renewed her grip on her bag and moved, quickly, the two men falling in behind her.
"Why an escort?" she asked over her shoulder.
"A small demonstration," Pilot Arman answered as they rounded the corner and headed for the 'vator, "for the benefit of those who would endanger pilots."
Theo punched the call-button, and spun. "Am I . . . in danger?" she demanded.
The nameless blue shirt shook his head.
"As I said," Pilot Arman amplified, "a demonstration only."
Behind her the 'vator door shusshhhed open. Theo put herself into the rear corner, her bag in front of her. The two security men stood with their backs to her, one on each side of the door.
"There is one thing that we would like you to recall, Pilot Waitley," the nameless one said.
"What's that?"
"Only that Melchiza values pilots, as you saw. If you should wish to continue your education with us, and join the Melchizan Pilot Corps, you will find us most receptive. I'd advise you to retain your badge; it will make reapplication simpler, though of course you may use Pilot Arman and Inspector Vidige as references."
Theo felt her right eyebrow twitch upward. "How long is this offer good for?" she asked. "With all the students that must come through here, they're—the pilots aren't going to remember me for very long."
The 'vator came to a halt. The doors sighed open.
"Oh, we'll remember you," Pilot Arman said, stepping out into the hall. "Never doubt that."
* * *
The bus pulled into the ramp, slowing only slightly. It slowed again as it negotiated the turn designated as "To Entry Port Three," and almost immediately thereafter stopped.
The door slid open, and Kamele lurched to her feet.
"Stop!" yelled Gidis, snatching at her arm. "The schedule!"
Kamele ducked, flying down the ramp to the inhospitable 'crete platform. A blast of oil-tainted wind hit her as landed, stripping the pins out of her hair. She shook her head, hair whipping out of her eyes, and there, coming toward her—
A woman walked toward her, pale hair floating on the breeze, her steps firm and her shoulders level. There was a green tag affixed to her red jacket, and she pulled a bag behind her. Two men in blue shirts flanked her, following a respectful two steps to the rear.
"Theo?" Kamele whispered. Then, louder. "Theo!"
Maybe she ran the few steps to meet her; maybe her daughter ran, too. Kamele folded the thin body into her arms and rested her cheek against the warm hair.
"Theo," she whispered. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Theo said, matter-of-fact. She took a step back and Kamele reluctantly let her go, searching her face—there was a scrape along her right cheek, but her eyes were steady and her attention sharp.
"Are you all right?" Theo asked. "You look—are you crying?"
"A little," Kamele admitted. "It's been—are you certain you're all right?"
"The pilot has taken no harm while she was under our care," the man with the beaked nose said. The side of his mouth twitched. "Except for what might be expected, from a particularly vigorous game of bowli ball."
"Pilot?" Kamele asked, just as Gidis pounded up to them.
"Professora!" the Chaperon cried. "Mamzelle! I beg you both—the schedule! There is no time—"
"There is time enough for the pilot's mother to assure herself that all is well," the beaked nose man said sternly.
Gidis blinked. "Pi—pilot?" he stammered, and stared at Theo, his mustaches drooping even more than usual.
"Forgive, sir, but the mamzelle was issued the pink badge."
"She was issued the pink badge in error," the other man said, and raised his hand. "Administration has since corrected itself." He nodded to Gidis. "It's good you came down, Chaperon. You will of course see to it that Pilot Waitley is accorded every courtesy while she is in your care."
"But of course—how else! I say to her from the first, I am your elder brother. I protect you and guard you. Leave all to me."
"That's well, then," Beak Nose said. He bowed to Kamele, stiffly, from the waist. "Professor Waitley, it's an honor to meet the pilot's mother."
"We'll clear the bus for quick routing," the other man said to Gidis. "Deliver the pilot safely, Chaperon."
"All of them—every one!" Gidis swore, and turned, snatching at Theo's bag. She stepped sideways, avoiding him easily.
"I'll take it," she said. She glanced at the two men.
"Thank you, Pilot Arman . . . sir."
"Our pleasure, pilot."
* * *
Kamele was scared, Theo thought, as they followed Gidis up the ramp and found their seat. Theo slung her bag into the overhead and looked around.
"Hi, Professor Able—Professor Crowley."
"Good afternoon, Theo," Professor Crowley said, and his voice sounded odd, like he wasn't sure if he ought to be laughing or crying.
"Theo," Professor Able said. "You're looking well."
"Isn't she?" cried Professor Hafley. "What did I tell you, Kamele! There was no reason at all to take such a foolish pet. The child's perfectly fine, if a little . . . grubby."
Theo turned to look at her, and surprised a glare on Clyburn's usually vacuous face.
"Somebody gave Theo a pilot's badge," he said, glare melting into a mocking grin. "Isn't that cute?"
* * *
It was late. He'd taken to working late at his office in the Wall. The house, despite the efforts of the feline contingent, was a little too . . . quiet of late. A house ought to be occupied, if one bothered with such things at all, and if on occasion a full house seemed rather too full, well . . . that was why elderly housefathers maintained a private study with a door that locked.
"Eidolon, I better see some trim in velocity before you hit station-space." The perpetually annoyed voice of the station master issued from the Orbital Traffic Scanner he had installed in the tiny office. It made the place much more homelike, especially in the late hours.
Vashtara will be casting off from Melchiza Station soon, Aelliana offered from the largely empty property inside his skull.
"Indeed it will, and we no closer to having our bit finished with than we were at the beginning."
You did speak with the Chapelia symbol-bearer, she pointed out.
"Much good it did me, or Kamele," he groused, and shook his head. "I'll tell you what it is, Aelliana; I've gotten old."
Not so very old, she said quietly; and you bear it for both of us.
"Ill-temperedly he bears it, but bear it he does. Do you ever think, Aelliana, that we might have chosen another path to Balance?"
We might have done, but see what we should have missed!
He laughed.
"There is that aspect of the matter. Well."
He stood, stretching carefully, then moving a few li
ght steps down the tiny room. By the time he had waltzed between the rowdy chairs to the door, he was feeling positively rejuvenated.
"I think we must accept that the symbol-bearer has decided that it would be far simpler to allow complexity to strangle upon its own woven strands. If we are to aid Kamele's cause, we must take the assault to the Tower ourselves."
Have we a name? Aelliana asked. A direction?
"There's the rub," he admitted, walking back to his desk.
"We must, I suppose, inquire of the Serpent. I had not done so previously for fear of showing our hand. However, the time may have come for desperate—"
A chime sounded, heartbreakingly pure against the chatter from the OTS.
It's late, Aelliana said, for visitors.
"It is, isn't it?"
Plucking the Gallowglass cane up from its lean against the wall, he crossed to the door.
He took a breath, feet firm, knees flexed—and tapped the plate.
The door slid open.
One of the Chapelia stood before him, at a guess, quite young. She was scarcely taller than he was.
"One answers," he said, keeping his voice soft despite his heart's abrupt, foolish racing.
"One is sent," the sexless one-voice replied. "The man who opens this door is to accompany this one to a place." She raised her hand and drew a sign in the air, recognizable as that belonging to the symbol-bearer he had spoken with.
"One understands and is ready to obey—" He sketched the sign in the air "—immediately."
Backup? Aelliana demanded, as he stepped out in the hall, the door to his office closing behind him.
At long last, the game was afoot.
Thirty-Nine
Melchiza Station
"Nothing to declare?"
"Bored" didn't begin to describe the attitude of the pre-boarding customs monitor. Theo couldn't exactly blame her, since her job was to watch the luggage go by her on a belt. She did touch some bags lightly with a wand; others, she didn't touch at all, but merely stared at the scans set into the table before her.
Some bags, she pulled off the belt and inspected minutely.
Kamele's bag went through without a question. She nodded at Theo and moved to the slideway to the boarding lounge as her luggage went elsewhere. Theo breathed a sigh of relief. They hadn't had a chance yet to talk in private, but she was glad to see that Kamele was calming down. She'd been jittery until the bus had gotten to the Visitors' Center, and had clutched Theo's hand tight while they waited in line for the shuttle. Now, though, it looked like Theo was going to get a little space to breathe.
"Shielding on this, sir?" the monitor asked Professor Crowley.
"Vacuum and particle safe," he admitted, raising his hands. "It's been with me since my first trip to high camp when I was an undergraduate. We . . ."
But the monitor was bored again. She used the wand, and passed the old bag on.
"Nothing to declare?"
A pause.
"Nothing to declare, Pilot?"
That tone more than the words grabbed Theo's attention—she hadn't realized that Professor Crowley's luggage was through already; she'd been so busy thinking about Kamele and what could've happened—and there was the Professor, already on the slideway.
"Nothing to declare," Theo assured the monitor.
The woman glanced down at her read-outs, stiffened and directed a frown at Theo.
"Please open."
Theo raised her glance to the ceiling and sighed.
"The job must get done," the woman said, almost daring a reply . . .
Theo worked the dual combo and opened the duffel, the woman spread it half open on the counter and wanded it. When the wand beeped she looked not at all startled, but reached into the neatly rolled and folded clothes, pushed aside the traveling school book in its protective envelope, and pulled out the bowli ball.
"That's mine," Theo began—
"Yes, Pilot, but it is not properly shielded." The monitor reached below the counter and pulled out a silver bag, which she passed to Theo. "If you please, Pilot."
Biting her lip, feeling the line growing long behind her, Theo slipped the ball into the bag and sealed it.
"Thank you," the monitor said. "Please close your bag."
She did so, hastily. The woman produced a green card like the one Theo wore on her jacket and slapped it on the duffel's side.
"The tag marks this out as a pilot's luggage," she said. "You may enter the passenger lounge at will. The Pilots' Lounge on level three is reserved for active pilots just in or out, and their guests, please don't strain the regs. Have a pleasant journey."
She turned aside and Theo hurried away, biting her lip.
"Anything to declare?" the monitor asked the next passenger.
"Kamele, I'd like to go for a walk," Theo said. "Just around the duty-free. I—"
Her mother glanced up from the datapad she'd been studying and looked around the lounge. It was, in Theo's opinion, a boring space, mostly full of chairs, infoscreens, and nervous people. Beyond it, the Concourse glittered; the stuff in the shops was 'way too expensive, she knew, just like on Vashtara, but it was interesting to look in the windows.
"I think we could both use a walk," Kamele said, slipping the 'pad away. "If you'd care for some company?"
Theo thought about being annoyed. Then she remembered how upset Kamele had been, and smiled.
"Company would be good," she said.
They'd window-shopped half of one long side of the duty-free shops, taking their time, and pointing out especially absurd prices to each other. Theo's recollection had been wrong; the duty-free shops on Melchiza Station charged even more for everyday items than the shops aboard Vashtara.
She let Kamele get a window ahead of her while she lingered over a display of "athletic equipment," including foam-core boomerangs, ping-pong paddles, and—there! Nestled in back among a row of ordinary throwing spheres was a bowli ball. Theo tapped the window for more information, and gasped when the price came up.
Hastily, she tapped the pop-up away, and shook her head. It was a good thing Kamele didn't know how much the bowli ball had cost, or she'd have never let Theo keep it. 'Course, Kamele thought bowli balls were toys.
Shaking her head, Theo moved on, dancing aside as a woman in a leather jacket came out of the athletic equipment store.
"Sorry!" The woman said, shaking black hair out of her face.
"Phobai!" Theo cried gladly.
The pilot grinned. "Theo! Hey, look at that!" She extended a hand and stroked the green badge. "Fast work."
"They even call students 'pilot' at the Transit School," Theo said, face heating.
"No," Phobai said, "they only call some students pilot in the Transit School." She touched Theo's cheek lightly. "Get into a fight?"
"No, a bowli ball game."
"Hah! Did you drop it?"
" 'Course not!"
Phobai laughed.
"Theo?" Kamele had noticed she was gone. Theo grabbed Phobai's hand and turned her around.
"Phobai, this is my mother, Kamele Waitley. Kamele, this is Phobai Murchinson, she's one of the pilots on Vashtara. We played bowli ball together and practiced dance—"
"And a fine dancer she is, your Theo!" Phobai said with a grin. She held out her hand and Kamele took it with a smile.
"I'm always glad to meet Theo's friends—and her teachers!" she said.
"Not a teacher; Theo was born knowing the moves. All I do is remind her." She turned to Theo. "Do you want in on bowli ball? Cordrey's on opposite shift this first leg, but we've got Len, Joadin, and Truitt for sure, and maybe Valince and Jorj. You're welcome to play."
"I'd like that," Theo said. "Text me the time and room?" She bit her lip, realizing that she should have asked before—but a glance to the side showed Kamele smiling softly.
"Sure," Phobai said to Theo. "Are you shopping? Let's walk together. I've got some other things to pick up before they call crew back."
The three of them turned and walked down the row of shops, Theo making sure that the walk-crowders didn't push Kamele. Phobai looked at her from beneath her black lashes.
"Taking up some extra space, aren't you?"
Theo blinked, remembering Initha's swagger.
"Am I?" she asked, stricken. "I just—"
"Nothing wrong with it," Phobai said quickly. "It's just a new look for you. You're right, too; in this crowd you've got to walk wide or get crushed! Here's my next stop, and then I've got to run for the gate." She smiled. "Professor Waitley, it was good to meet you. Theo—I'll see you soon!"
She vanished into a shop displaying three diaphanous articles—lingerie, Theo thought, though with a bewildering amount of laces and other fasteners—
"Let's walk over this way," Kamele said, interrupting any further study of the shop's display. "I'd like to check the departure times."
Theo shook her head, trying to get her hair out of her eyes. Something about the change in pressure in the glass airlocks, or maybe it was the change in air source. The breeze had been sudden and cold; likely it was used to help keep the grounder dirt and bugs someplace other than in the station's air supply.
Now that she could see again, she was faced with a wall of chronometers keeping a dozen times, just like on Vashtara, though Melchiza local time was displayed where Vashtara had displayed Standard Time.
Underneath the clocks were infoscreens displaying the names and departure/arrival times of incoming and outgoing ships. Vashtara was comfortably listed right next to Melchiza Station; the notes stating that it was still debarking passengers to other lounges. Phobai must've gotten off-ship as soon as it docked, Theo thought.
According to the 'screen, they'd be boarding around the time that Theo had gotten used to thinking of as lunch time. She reached to her jacket pocket, where her three days' eating money rode, and said a word she'd heard Win Ton mutter upon certain occasions.
"What is it?" Kamele asked, as ignorant of the meaning of the word as Theo was, and happily without the benefit of its use in context.
