Fledgling (45 page)

"I have four," Crowley said, "in similar state. I blamed myself, for hastiness begets error."

"I have one," Kamele said, looking to Hafley. "You have been busy, Chair, but why?"

"Professor Crowley said it himself—haste begets error," Hafley said. "Furthermore, age contributes to a poor memory. All of us have been working long hours and sleeping very little. I'll admit that I made one error of placement—which Kamele recovered! All's well that ends well, with the agreement of my colleagues."

Kamele turned to Able.

"The volumes you thought you had requested," she said urgently. "Request them again."

"Certainly, Sub-Chair." She rose and walked over to the wall-mounted datapad.

"Kamele, really—"

"It has been apparent for some time," Crowley interrupted, "that this project has not enjoyed Chair Hafley's full support. My report to the Directors will reflect this, noting in particular her willingness to place this vital research into the hands of scholars unknown to us, either by reputation or by name. This incident will also be documented. I suspect that the Directors—"

"
I
suspect that the Directors will know how to take such a report," Hafley interrupted in her turn. "Elderly males are well-known to suffer moments of delusion. Had
I
the staffing of this team, we should have had Beltaire herself, whatever she may have pretended about her health. This project demanded the weight that only such an august and senior researcher could lend to it. Admin chose to override me, but they will not allow a report that is clearly nothing more than a work of spite to pass upward to the Directors."

"I—" Kamele begin, and went back a step when the older woman turned to her.

"You!" she said sternly, and shook her head. "I tried to groom you, Kamele, but you would not learn. You're ambitious—a little
too
much so, may I say? What sort of mother allows her desire to achieve prominence to overrule her rightful concern for her daughter's safety? Anything might happen at that school—Melchiza isn't a Safe World, you know! Who can tell but that you might find that she's been . . . harmed in some way; changed out of recognition? But you counted the possible cost to Theo too small to consider, and here you are, incommunicado, unable to protect your child—your most important duty! Small wonder you're fabricating threats out of thin air! The guilt, Kamele, that you must—"

"I have a notation on my request, Sub-Chair," Able said from her position at the datapad.

Kamele took a breath. "What is it?" Her voice was steady.

"It says those volumes are no longer available to us."

Kamele took another breath and met Hafley's hard blue eyes.

"Not just one error, Chair Hafley," she said, and turned to the remaining members of the team.

"Compare lists; see if there is a pattern to the volumes we weren't allowed to see. When Solmin comes in next, we will ask him to escort Chair Hafley to the dormitory and confine her there."

"Excellent," Crowley said. Able nodded.

"In the meantime," Kamele looked back to Hafley, feeling the quiver of horror in her stomach.
Clyburn,
she thought,
whose mother is high in Administration. Who could have had Theo placed well in the Transit School . . . 

"In the meantime," she repeated, and her voice was breathless now. "I want to know what you've done to my daughter."

* * *

Theo extended her leg, carefully, and danced Module One in slow-time, like Phobai had shown her.

"Stretching's good for your muscles and your reactions," she'd said. "
Slow
stretching's good for bruises."

She sure did have bruises, though nothing as startling as Initha, who'd gotten herself a truly spectacular black eye when she'd misjudged the angle of bounce. All of them had contact burns, though only Fruma'd gotten anything broken. His hand, of course, and he'd been sent to the infirmary when Inspector Vidige broke up the game. The rest of them had been sent to clean up for dinner, without even a mention that they might've been playing a little too rough.

At lights out, Theo had been feeling a little stiff. At wake-up, she'd been feeling a
lot
stiff. She'd gotten carefully out of bed, done some basic stretches and hobbled down to breakfast, where she'd found the rest of the crew, just as stiff. Initha'd nodded her to a place across from her and then they'd walked to class together, settling carefully into their solo seats.

It was free study now, and standing was permitted. Theo figured that meant
menfri'at,
too, as long as she didn't get too energetic.

Not much chance of that.

She slid into Module Two, aware that someone was moving on her right. Turning her head, she saw Initha and, beyond her, Robit, and Stan, earrings chiming softly, as they all danced slow-time.

"Good idea," Initha said.

"Good game," Stan added.

"It was," Theo said, and flowed into the next step.

Melchiza
City of Treasures

A comparison of those volumes that Hafley had returned before they'd been used seemed to indicate that she had been opportunistic in her sabotage, rather than deliberate.

Small comfort there.

Kamele's request that she be allowed to contact the Transit School had been denied by a stone-faced Solmin. He understood, he said, that the professor's daughter might stand at risk. He understood that a mother might feel concern—even grave concern. He could not, however, allow the professor to call, though she could of course travel to the Transit School in the company of her assigned Chaperon. If she chose to leave, she could not return to the archives for a period of one Melchizan year. Those were the rules. He was sorry, but he was certain that the professor understood.

Kamele understood.

"Perhaps Chaperon Gidis could be dispatched to the Transit School with a message?" she asked.

Solmin frowned. "I will inquire of Director Pikelmin," he said austerely.

"Thank you," Kamele said, around the needle of dread lodged in her heart. "I appreciate your effort."

But whatever effort Solmin did or did not put forth, it hardly mattered.

Scrutiny of the list of texts that remained unexamined, excepting those that Hafley had returned, revealed that the task was very nearly two-thirds completed. The reputable remaining members of the research team redoubled their own efforts, and inside of a day they were done.

* * *

"Pilot Waitley."

Theo blinked out of her self-test and looked up into Inspector Vidige's frown.

"Inspector?"

"Please shut down here, Pilot, collect your belongings from your dorm and be at Entry Port Three in . . ." She glanced down at the note in her hand. ". . . in one-quarter interval."

"Yes, Inspector," Theo said, her fingers already busy with the shutdown sequence. She looked up again, decided that the frown didn't look
particularly
forbidding, and ventured a question.

"Where am I going, please, ma'am?"

"I'm informed that a bus will be arriving to take you to the Visitors' Center, Pilot." She raised her eyebrows, and said, with emphasis, "
Soon
."

* * *

"Well, there you are, Clyburn!" Orkan Hafley settled into the seat next to her
onagrata
and patted his knee. "Did you have a pleasant visit with your mother?"

"We had more to talk about than I'd thought," Clyburn said as the rest of the team filed into the bus and chose seats. "Thank you, Orkan."

"You're very welcome, my dear. I'm glad I could do you this little kindness."

Kamele slid into a seat near the exit door, her shoulder against the window. Able, who had entered the bus behind her, hesitated as if she might chose the aisle seat. Kamele turned her head aside. Able moved on.

"And how did your business go?" Clyburn asked Hafley.

"It started well," she said. "Unfortunately, Kamele took it upon herself to accuse me of dishonesty, and Crowley of withholding my approval for the team's mandate—as if I would have put myself to the considerable inconvenience of traveling to Melchiza if I
disapproved
—but you know what old men are, dear! If you find me more rested than the majority of the team, it's because my generous colleagues evicted me from the study room for the last two days while they labored, and so I was able to catch up on my sleep."

"Professors, professora, sir!" Gidis called, leaping up the stairs into the passenger compartment. "Your business is well-concluded, eh? We go now, immediately, to take the mamzelle up from school. From there, we go by directest route to the Visitors' Center. I will guide you to the Departure Lounge and log you in with the desk there—my last task as your elder brother! Once you are logged, you may leave the lounge only as part of the group ascending to Melchiza Station. On-station, station rule applies until you are once again aboard valiant
Vashtara,
and safely on your way home to Delgado! Keep your badges with you. Listen to your elder brother!
Keep your badges with you
while you are in Melchizan space. Once you are aboard
Vashtara,
you may dispose of them. Are there questions?"

There were not.

"Good!" Gidis said. "We are all informed. In a moment, the driver engages the route. Our schedule is close, so there will be no time to tour the school facilities, as Professora Waitley had hoped. Perhaps upon your next visit to Melchiza, eh?" He leaned over Kamele's seat and grinned at her.

She managed a smile. "That would be pleasant," she said, and he spun away toward the driver's compartment.

"It seems odd that Kamele would have accused you of dishonesty." Clyburn's voice was loud in the absence of Gidis. "After all, she's sub-chair, subordinate to
you
, Orkan."

"Well! We must make her some allowance. She belatedly realized that she had some reason to be concerned about her daughter's safety. Naturally, she should have thought about that before rashly refusing—but there! It's no more than mother's nerves, I'm sure, and it will be found that Theo took no harm, and is returned to us calm and biddable."

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.