Dragon Ship

by Sharon Lee

  “Small ship Nubit is encroaching on the security zone at low speed. Exec is issuing proper warnings and Bechimo is prepared to repulse.”

  She’d caught the rotating images now—there—a taxi-type vessel was far too close to the docked Bechimo, uncomfortably close, in fa—

  The station trembled. On screen, Nubit tumbled away from Bechimo—and away from Codrescu.

  “Within rights, we have activated meteor defenses to remove an uninvited threat,” Clarence stated. “Station, do we have clarity here? If Nubit returns without permission we are operationally prepared to defend ourselves from dangerous approaches.”

  “Bechimo,” came the answer from Codrescu Ops, “Nubit’s sending apologies, and requesting forgiveness. State they were offering routine service.”

  “Routine does not apply, Station,” Clarence said sharply. Theo nodded. “Looked like a reconnaissance or smuggle-touch to us. Please ask all vessels to stay well away, we are here in response to an emergency request and are operating on emergency defense protocols. Apprise us of Nubit’s berth if you will, and let us know when they are in it?”

  “On that, will do, Bechimo, need a few if you’re cooling down now, we’ve got some other issues—scheduled check-arounds and security issues—”

  “Understood, Station. Thank you.”

  Theo relaxed, aware of Hevelin, supported by her arm, reclining against her chest, humming softly.

  The comm on the counter went off again, simultaneously with Peltzer’s board comm. He thumbed the switch, while Slayn snatched the comm, free hand rising to sign.

  Guard alert, Theo read, for Waitley.

  Same same same Peltzer replied, and looked to Theo.

  “We have two pool pilots with local connections declaring they must see you over immediate safety issues, asking for you by name. Allow?”

  Slayn and Bringo rose to flank the door, and Theo laughed.

  “That’s fine, you get out of harm’s way. I have Master Hevelin with me, and he is not to be trifled with!”

  Bringo laughed; Slayn grinned. Theo looked to Peltzer.

  “Names?”

  “ven’Arith and yos’Senchul.”

  “Of course, allow them!”

  Theo’s joy infected Hevelin, who yawned, and wriggled.

  She bent down to put him on the floor.

  “Can we get some tea?” she asked the room at large. “I have a feeling we’ll need it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Codrescu

  “Pilot,” yos’Senchul said, his bow registering pleased acknowledgment of the presence of a previously known trusted equal—as far as Theo could read it—with an added fillip that might have been congratulations on attaining a…dream?

  Her bow, slower, based on video training and the tuition of two non-Liaden intelligences, one non-breathing, was more straightforward—respect to the master, from a former student, willing yet to learn.

  “Theo!” Kara cried, from behind and to yos’Senchul’s left.

  Theo took an impulsive step forward, their former instructor pivoting smoothly to let her by, “Kara!”—and then recalled that a bow was more proper here than a hug.

  She centered herself and produced what she hoped was companions joyfully reunited away from home. She suspected her attempt would have made her cousin Padi laugh—especially with Theo trying to cram in a much owed, too.

  Kara’s bow in reply was as elegant as Theo’s had been awkward. She bent, effortlessly, a bowli ball player’s muscles at work, dancing on the companion theme, but adding to it the sense of revered friend and leader…

  Theo didn’t get all of it properly, she was sure, because the tears made it hard for her to see.

  Straightening, Kara smiled, and stepped forward to take Theo’s hand.

  “Nubit’s crew is trouble,” she said. “They’re all of them ‘Eylot Guild,’ so they say, and for casual conversation on an off-shift they like to talk about how wrong it is for the station to ‘pretend’ to be independent, when after all it wouldn’t be here without Eylot—and can’t even feed itself without Eylot’s permission. They’ve been pushing a few of us to go planetside and take the ‘real test’ so that we might join the ‘real Guild,’ as if our licenses were suspect, or the Guild on Codrescu was, was—the Juntavas!”

  She looked over Theo’s head suddenly.

  “Master Peltzer, I tried to get through to you on comm, but Control lost me twice.”

  A flutter of fingers drew Theo’s attention. yos’Senchul was signing rapidly to Slayn, his comments regarding Nubit’s crew consistent with sabotage, spy, danger.

  “Noted,” Peltzer told Kara. “Had a lot of traffic there for a bit, with all the excitement, so not necessarily a plot, Pilot. We’ll check it, though.”

  “Thank you.” Kara returned her gaze to Theo’s face, smiled broadly and closed the gap between them.

  Theo shivered as Kara’s arms went around her; she hugged back with a will, and felt warm breath against her ear.

  “They want your cloak.”

  Her cloak?

  Theo blinked.

  She’d asked Kara to pick up the things she’d left in her room when she was expelled from the academy. There had been some articles of clothing among the rest, but Theo was relatively certain that she’d never in her life owned a cloak.

  She drew back, her hands on Kara’s shoulders, Kara’s hands on hers.

  “Cloak?” Theo asked with great confusion.

  “Yes, cloak!” Kara said, nodding her head.

  “Nubit’s taking orders from Eylot—we heard them, in the clear! Eylot’s trying to figure out what kind of ship you have and how you you managed to come in when no one heard you. They’re—” She glanced aside to Pilot yos’Senchul.

  “Would concerned or fearful best describe Eylot’s expressions, Orn Ald?”

  “I judge that both are equally correct,” he answered.

  All eyes were on Theo now—she felt them.

  A cloak! she thought. Cloaks were…well, not quite complete fabrications, but only slightly less rare than Bechimo himself. The reason was the energy needed to generate and maintain such a thing. A ship would have to carry engines instead of pods just to power the cloak.

  She opened her mouth. Closed it.

  Closed her eyes.

  If, she thought, there was any ship flying right now which could be suspected of having a functioning cloaking device aboard, would that ship not, perhaps, look a little odd, its lines a little old, yet matched by nothing in any ship silhouette program produced in the last two hundred Standards?

  She opened her eyes, and smiled. Kara’s was the first face she saw, beside her, Pilot yos’Senchul, to her left and half-behind her were Peltzer and Bringo and Slayn—the last with the hand-comm at his ear.

  “I’m really not in a position to talk about my cloak,” she said gently.

  “Heheh, now, you didn’t hear us asking, not really, did you, Pilot?” Bringo had some hand motions going, his own shorthand of small talk, and she read out of it private gun, not a public pocket, good blade to own, don’t tell me and I can’t tell them.

  “Tea’s on the way.” Slayn said, putting the comm down. “We’ll want to know exactly what you heard, pilots.”

  * * *

  “We were doing a radio test,” Kara said, her hands reiterating standard operation test test. “I’d done the repair, the unit checked on the bench, but in order to be recertified, it must be tested in place.”

  “The stations’ programmed channels checked out, and I’d just popped in a couple of the old Academy sideband frequencies. We thought we might get a trainee, but Nubit came right up. They were talking to Ground—” Her hands clarified no code, clean line, open—“explaining that they were ready to move on a survey, but required direction.”

  “In essence,” said yos’Senchul, “they wished to know precisely what it was they were looking for.”

  Kara nodded.

  “I thought Ground sounded…
displeased,” she said, “but Orn Ald had the better speaker—and he recognized at least one of the voices.” She tipped her head toward him and picked up her tea cup.

  Pilot yos’Senchul was in a casual uniform, the over-pocket nameplate claimed him for generic flight staff, and below that was stitched the Terran equivalent of yos’Senchul. He had raised his cup, and allowed himself a moment to finish and appreciate the beverage before putting it down. For all that he’d arrived with an emergency message he looked much more relaxed than he had the last time Theo had seen him.

  “At Technician ven’Arith’s direction,” he said, taking up the tale, “I tried the frequency, which amused us both, it being a beginning pilot’s help-me channel from the Academy, and indeed, the discussion was going on at pace. I gather the band was considered secure, and the issue important enough to require immediate action. The voice from Ground was, I believe, Captain Retzler.

  “He addressed Nubit’s commander as ‘cadet’ several times during the exchange, and asked if he would recognize a high grade ship cloaking external apparatus on sight. The cadet”—yos’Senchul raised his eyes briefly to the ceiling—“the cadet reported that he had not had the entire course of ship recognition for old-line ships, which may have been answer enough, for it was then that Captain Retzler ordered as complete a sensor scan as they could manage. Your ship being out of line of sight, from Nubit’s berth, and the observation ports in that area small at best and rather too openly placed for quiet vid captures, the only course was precisely the one they attempted.”

  yos’Senchul’s smooth gesture handed the narrative back to Kara. Theo glanced that way, and found Kara’s eyes on her face already.

  “We began a search of all the old Academy channels, and picked up chatter on all of them. They’ve mobilized the entire school for this…” She looked down into her tea cup, then shook herself, and took up her report.

  “As soon as we heard that Bechimo had docked, we tried to contact you, Theo, but the comm officer said you had already gone to the Guild office, and that the ship was under emergency lock-down.”

  “And so you see us here,” yos’Senchul finished, picking up his cup for another sip.

  Peltzer, meanwhile, was touching his ear with one hand and watching Slayn—maybe getting a feed from somewhere, since he appeared to be playing with the keypad and glancing at his private screen rather than following the conversation. Suddenly he clicked on something on his board and raised his eyes, alert to them all.

  “So we have an active utility crew, Eylot sympathizer, if not outright active spy? I’ll need you to forward those reports and frequencies.”

  “They’re in your queue, Guildmaster,” said yos’Senchul, his smile grim. “You will find them under the heading of Year-end Summary of Codrescu Flight Staff Supply Orders by Standard Week, Month, and Quarters, Annotated for Cost per Flight Segment and Staffer. There are also appended several databases which are of no import to lives, but which may be valuable for historical reasons, once this is solved.”

  Peltzer touched a spot between his eyes in what might have been a salute, and tapped some keys on his board.

  “Can’t be why I didn’t look at it already, could it?” he muttered.

  “Forgive us; it seemed best to err on the side of circumspection.”

  Kara looked up.

  “One of Nubit’s crew—Sadie Onit—said to me that she was kin to some who had worked on the upgrade of station systems, Guildmaster. It may be that—”

  “Yes, it may be.” he agreed, too easily. “Lots of things may be. What it looks like it was, the stationkeeper didn’t spend enough time studying the political side of things, and now we have to doubt our own files and crew!”

  He cocked his head to one side suddenly, fingers forming hold hold hold as he touched an ear, then touched a switch plate.

  Need room, his hands said. All out!

  He held the call, explaining:

  “Got a call coming in through Station Ops, from our delegation that’s been talking with Eylot Central. I’m sorry, gentles, talking about security, I’ll need to take it, with Mr. Slayn and Hevelin authorized to stay. Is there anything else I need to know now?”

  No one said so, and in bare quiet seconds the inner door was closed, with Bringo, Theo, Kara, and yos’Senchul exiting through the outer office, Peltzer’s parting, “Return to stations and be where I expect to find you,” still ringing against the walls.

  * * *

  The reception area was a little larger than the inner office, but it was full to capacity with bodies—full over capacity, because Hevelin had trooped out with the rest of them, sticking so close to Theo that she all but had to sit on the reception desk to avoid stepping on him. It didn’t help that Podesta jumped into the mix from the depth of the green patch, loudly asking Bringo for a treat. Two guards, one sitting, one standing, were trying to keep eyes properly on the doors, but the standing one was reduced to leaning against the outer door with the influx of people.

  “We are dismissed,” yos’Senchul said to him. “We will go, if you make way.”

  Bodies shifted backward, uncomfortably close, while the guard manipulated the controls. Suddenly the pressure eased, and a waft of—not fresh, but other—air entered from the hallway.

  Theo took advantage of the room to catch Hevelin up and hold him eye-to-eye.

  He blinked, yawned, and leaned, solemnly touching his forehead to hers. His fur tickled her nose and cheek; his breath not unpleasantly fragrant of his dinner.

  “Hevelin, you are a very good friend to pilots, and I think right now the best help you can give pilots is to let them go to their places while you stay in yours. That’s what we’ll do, right?”

  She recalled the first time she’d seen him, sleepy in his jungle, and tried to show him that image, unsure of the right way to project such thought…

  In her arms, Hevelin purred, and Theo felt a certain sleepy approval. Smiling, she carried him over to the greenery and placed him gently among the fronds.

  “I promise, I do want to talk with you again, but please, stay with your food for now, that would be best!”

  She turned, but it appeared that the norbear population wasn’t done with her. Before her was Podesta, swaying on back feet, so close that Theo had to dance two quick steps to avoid kicking her, and into that dance Kara inserted herself, effortlessly sweeping the younger norbear up into her arms.

  She swung around in a tight circle, rapidly singing in a high-pitched voice not very much like her usual mode. Theo caught the words, denubia, chernubia, repeated several times and realized it must be a child’s poem or song, in which the child—or norbear—in hand is compared to all manner of sweet and delightful things.

  Kara’s spin brought her back to face Theo, and she passed Podesta with enough energy to momentarily crush her hand and Podesta against Theo’s breast.

  Theo caught the norbear smoothly, and looked to Kara, who signed home asleep. Obediently, Theo placed Podesta, too, among the greenery. The youngster seemed to sigh, but she settled where she had been placed, and Theo stepped back to Kara’s side with a smile.

  Amid the zoological transactions, yos’Senchul had made it out the door, as had Bringo. Theo followed, Kara’s hand on her arm.

  “We shall speak, we three,” promised yos’Senchul, “but later. I am on call at the flight bay this shift. If there is need, the code is here.” He handed Theo a card. The front displayed his name in Liaden characters; the back, in Terran, along with comm codes and department affiliations: Orn Ald yos’Senchul, Flight Operations Associate Supervisor, Codrescu Station.

  What she most noticed was not the card—though she took it with a small bow of thanks—but his hand: it looked absolutely natural and the motion of it was impeccable. The first time she’d been to Codrescu she’d been a simple Third Class pilot going on Second, while he’d been Senior Flight Instructor for Anlingdin Academy, and nominally the pilot of the vessel she’d flown. She’d been PIC because he
had finally—and she had thought, reluctantly—given up one of his most powerful teaching tools just before that flight, and had needed someone fully able bodied to run the ship while the nerve-bonding of his new artificial arm and hand finalized.

  A simple bow of comrades then from him, with a hand flourish at the end that emphasized a balance due her, and he was off at a trot.

  That left Theo, Kara, and four guards.

  “We’ll escort you back to your ship, Pilot,” said one. “While you’re on Codrescu, we travel with you.”

  Kara was beside her, having barely let go her arm; the tangy, familiar scent of thringabloom shampoo met Theo’s nostrils.

  “I’m off-shift,” Kara said, “Do you have room for a visitor?”

  * * *

  “Where are you all from,” Theo hazarded to ask the guards as they walked back to Bechimo’s berth. “I can’t think the station employs so many guards.”

  One of those ahead laughed; his partner might have cursed.

  “We’re doing pick-up work for the Guild,” said the one who had laughed. “I’m off Lenloch, myself. We’re berthed out the other arm—you might not’ve seen us when you come in. Supposed to be picking up some indy cargo, but EyCentralia won’t pass it up to station. Since that’s the whole run, we’re stuck. Eylot won’t release our cargo, we can’t just leave without we hear from home office…might as well do something than nothing, hey? Ship don’t need me ’til-and-if we got to get gone…”

  “’til-and-if? This better break soon,” said the guard walking behind Theo; “folks nerves can’t take too much more. Not to say their pockets.”

  They continued to talk between themselves, but it was Kara who had most of Theo’s attention. She looked good, strong, sharp, alert, touchable…Theo felt her cheeks warm and hoped that the blush wasn’t obvious in the emergency low-lights.

  Really, Theo, she heard Father’s voice, half-amused like it had been when she was a kid and had let her enthusiasm get the better of her: A little manner, if you please.

  Chapter Twenty-Six