- Prologue

He gave a half bow, and reached about to pull a touch pad to her.

'If I may have your thumbprint, Theo Waitley, there will be two pills for pain, which you will not need tonight, but which I am required to issue. The skin cover will come off in the shower in three days; it is best if you not touch it before.'

'Thank you,' she managed, and stood. She felt . . . light, and . . . calm. Comfortable in her own skin.

'Thank you,' she said again, and bowed.

Fifteen

Adminstrative Hearing Room Three

Anlingdin Piloting Academy

There was a hearing, scheduled immediately, according to regs. Immediately in this case being the first hour of evening watch.

Theo was glad of the delay. Math for dummies was long dismissed. She wrote a note to the instructor, explaining her absence, which was required, then took a shower, being careful not to get the covering over her cut wet, and dressed. She pinned Win Ton's wings to her collar, and made herself a cup of tea.

Good tea, Father used to say, was worth more than its weight in rare wine. She didn't have rare wine, but she did have some tolerably good tea. She sat in the comfiest chair in the joint room, making sure to lean back into the cushion, closed her eyes and sipped.

Carefully, she did a self-assessment. She was still feeling kind of floaty, which she thought might be let-down from the adrenaline, like the medic had said. The calm . . . inner calm, she thought, savoring her tea.

Pilot, that's what that was. Pilots had inner calm. The sample reports they'd been reading made that clear enough. Pilots acted for the best good of ship, passengers and cargo. That meant more than having good reaction times; it meant being calm enough to think well in emergencies.

Since she was going to be a pilot, no matter what Wilsmyth and the people like him tried to do to stop her, it seemed like calmness was going to be a good habit to cultivate.

She sighed, and finished her tea, wondering how the scene with Wil would have played out, if she'd managed to stay calm. Whether she'd reacted well to the emergency—well, she guessed she'd find out. Opening her eyes, she looked to the clock.

Real soon now.

Veradantha and Pilot yos'Senchul were waiting for her at the door to Hearing Room Three.

'Waitley,' yos'Senchul said, his hand giving her a simultaneous, Welcome. He bowed slightly, which was perhaps a sign of the seriousness of the moment.

Veradantha merely nodded. 'You are prompt, Theo Waitley. This is good. You display a becoming lack of anger. This is also good. The matter before us should not take much of our time. Be sober, be thoughtful, be alert, and all is well.'

'Yes, ma'am,' Theo said, looking between the two of them.

'We are here as your advisors,' yos'Senchul said, moving his hand toward the door. 'Please, after you.'

At the table between her two advisors, Theo made sure she had her back against the chair, folded her hands on the table, and advertently noted the location of the second door.

As she settled and looked around, she was aware of the solemn patience of both of her tablemates.

Between them they'd had a lot of practice being patient, she supposed, with Flight Instructor yos'Senchul having to deal with wannabe pilots all the time, and Veradantha—and Veradantha having had more years than Theo could imagine to . . . and there, so much for patience. Veradantha placed a small flat object on the table, flashed her hand over it, and settled back, at ease now that the clock was running.

People were settling into place at the other tables. Wilsmyth sat with an administrator or teacher she didn't recognize, pointedly looking away from her, mostly at the pile of hard copy in front of him.

Chelly was at the head table, such as it was—it was hard to have a head table with three rectangular tables arranged in a triangle shape and each with three chairs sitting behind it—but there he was, very busily not looking at her and not looking at Wil, either. Since Wil sat in the middle of his table as she did at hers, that left Chelly a tunnel straight ahead to look at, along with his notebook, and the people who flanked him. Wil's table still lacked his second advisor, but it wasn't quite the hour yet, according to Veradantha's clock, which was official enough for Theo.

The door opened, admitting Commander Ronagy, who looked around, frowned and pulled the door sharply closed behind her.

'Mister Frosher,' she said, 'please designate one of your associates to take the empty seat; I'll sit to your right at head table.'

Chelly looked to his right and left.

'Dorts is a pilot,' he said quietly, 'so someone in Admin, it looks like. Goueva, that fits you several times.'

The plump woman lifted a hand in acknowledgment, gathered up her notebook, and moved over to Wilsmyth's table with a minimum of fuss. The Commander slid into the newly vacated chair.

Right, Theo thought. Veradantha is here as Admin, too. Keeping track of jobs is hard.

Chelly nodded all around as if counting, rapped quietly on the desk in front of him, and began the session.

'Thank you all for coming on short notice; as desk man on Ops the decision to convene is my responsibility. This is an informal fact-finding session convened by the officers of the watch as per standing orders in instances where accidents or conflicts involve the need for medical intervention or staff attention; no notes are to be taken and no notes are to be taken away. Should no consensus be reached over the items under discussion this evening, a formal process will begin, possibly as soon as the close of this session.'

Chelly's voice was good and strong for all that he was reading from a cheat sheet, with the head of the academy by his side. 'Does any member of this fact-finding wish to go directly to formal process? If so, please state