- Prologue

'This 'safe enough' you mentioned . . . it is not what I would call Eylot at the moment, though all at Anlingdin are not actively hostile. The display this day, a display of contempt, to bring such a device directly to the DCCT . . . ah . . . an attempt to produce random disruption among those most comfortable with . . . looking up and out. Not a welcome event, however well disguised as a mere prank.'

'They were trying to hurt Kara? Or after Yberna?'

The instructor raised his hands. 'Without a proper Healer to interpret, who can say? I think there was no single target, Pilot, but the group: who can know when which pilot will take up a bowli ball, eh?'

Theo nodded, but her hands were talking, suddenly echoing alert query, warning query, caution query, danger query.

'Yes,' he allowed. 'All of that. I can say, Pilot, that Eylot is becoming . . .' He paused, finger-talk describing the motion unstable, 'Let us say disbalanced. Not physically, you understand,' having seen her rapid glance at the board, 'but the politics. Those of the Clans do not expand as rapidly, or as radically, as do some of the elements which desire to celebrate other genes.

'There are small efforts under way to do things which have heretofore been unnecessary. In some areas citizens wish to declare certain languages superior, in others to enact laws regarding access to schooling. And, given the rule of voting here, there are areas where the majority of the residents who may vote are of Terran extraction, and they are being given more opportunity to take advantage.'

He looked at her carefully.

'You will note that in the past there may have been efforts by certain members of let us say, 'the other camp' to arrange things for their own benefit. It is what groups do. But, the focus of late has been on commerce, and on controlling commerce. And to control commerce . . .'

'. . . you try to control pilots and ships,' Theo finished the sentence, recalling the flaming debris of a small jet falling down a mountainside. 'Will they stop—the guys with the bowli ball? I mean they're in such trouble!'

The instructor exhaled slowly.

'Yes, those two will likely stop. If the academy isn't able to remove them, surely their keepers will assure that they lie quiet, for a while. The major goal is to take control of pilots on planet, to require planetary registrations, to, in fact, require that all student slots at the academy go first to citizens of Eylot, and then to 'approved' groups.'

Theo stared, considering Wilsmyth and his connections, and—

'This will take some time to happen, if it does happen. There will need to be votes, there will need to be legislation . . .' yos'Senchul paused as Theo took in the board for a moment. When she turned back, he signed, two-handed and elegant: objects moving keep moving.

'But it will happen, you're sure?' Theo leaned into the control chair, considering her own future.

'Soon. Soon enough that I have agreed to have the nerve implants made so that I will, if needed, be able to work as a yard pilot or such; since among the suggestions made is that Anlingdin should, of course, be staffed first with the best the planet itself can offer, and only then . . .'

Theo caught her breath.

'They'd rip the school apart!'

True course, he signed, attempting a simultaneous Terran shrug.

'The timetable is not perfect, and indeed, there are those who say the effort will fall short for years, and never succeed.'

He was silent for a moment, and went on.

'I have told you before not to trust Liadens simply because they are Liadens. The same is true of those in DCCT, and those of Terra, and . . . in all cases, a pilot must—as your father suggested to you—have a contingency plan. I suggest, as an instructor who wishes to see an exceptional student prosper, and as a pilot who has an interest in knowing that there are worthy pilots in the skies, that you join the Pilots Guild. You have achieved third class, and there is a truth that time-as-member comes into play if time-in-grade is similar. Guild supports Guild, as best can.'

The ship chirped, indicating the orbital approach was nearing.

'Pilot to pilot I say: have your contingency plan in place. Do not dawdle documenting any skill you may rightly claim.'

Cherpa had really needed herding, then, and Theo had returned to the task at hand.

Twenty-Six

Codrescu Station

Eylot Nearspace

The so-called front hall of Codrescu Center was about the size of the few back halls Theo'd seen on the Vashtara and the back halls were wonders to behold, with crew signs in Terran, Trade, Liaden, and at least one she was unsure of as well as handholds and rungs on all the walls. There was gravity, but it was very light and somewhat spotty, with some quirkiness, perhaps because the halls actually had humps and ridges as well as numerous access ports. In fact, as she thought about it, she realized that the hall, or the deck, or the whole of the establishment, was subject to exactly the kind of tiny twitches the docking ring exhibited.

What she'd not expected were the sounds. Codrescu was smaller than Delgado Station, and the ports she'd been in traveling on Vashtara, but the sounds were more frequent, and less differentiated. From class and from her travels she could tell the warning sounds of ship counts, and it sounded like there were three different counts within hearing, and then the beep-beep-beep of a door- lock warning echoed from somewhere and she passed several busy people with voices seemingly speaking numbers to thin air and getting replies from their shoulders.

She, at least, carried no live radio, and the background speaker news for ship folks that 'Thurstan, green, thirty-seven, five green go. Blueboy, fifteen five five five, hold. Drosselmare, line seven forty-four, clear thirty-two, straight count,' meant little to her other than connectors were connected, arrivals and departures were happening and would happen . . . but then this wasn't her community.