Two
New Student Orientation
Ozler Auditorium
Anlingdin Piloting Academy
The woman in the plain grey uniform had the room's full attention as she strode about the low stage, left to right, right to left, talking at times as much to herself as to the group. The simple acts of walking on stage wearing a Jump pilot's jacket, slipping it off and casually throwing it over a nearby chair, had caught them as much as the quick hand-and-voice: Welcome and listen up. "I'm Commander Ronagy."
The basic intro was about what Theo had expected, a highly condensed repeat of the information in the school's orientation packet, but the follow-on was not.
Commander Ronagy came to the front of the stage and stood, legs braced, hands at ready, looking sternly out over the first four center rows, which were all the newbie class filled in this big auditorium.
"If you have any doubts about being here," she said soberly, "please, there's a shuttle scheduled to lift in the morning. If you're here under duress, come talk to me tonight, and we'll get you out of here as soon as we can, as neatly as we can. If you don't want to be here, we don't want you here."
Her right hand rose, fingers dancing briefly, several subdued metallic rings marking time in the spotlight, before she turned to pace again. Theo turned her head slightly and saw that tables and tray carts were being moved in the side door and rolling silently toward the back.
"I can tell you that not every pilot trainee has survived the course at Anlingdin Piloting Academy," the Commander continued. "The records speak for themselves and I suggest you avail yourselves of them if you haven't already. But you're here now, and this is what I can tell you without doubt: This will be one of the most physically and mentally challenging periods of your life. You may succumb to any of the hazards that claimed those of your less successful predecessors here at the academy: carelessness, bravado, inattention, suicide—these are the more common.
"You'll study some of the more dramatic errors in your training sims and if they don't leave you shaken, then perhaps you're in the wrong field. Our testing is designed to ensure that you're always at your peak, and always up to the next level of instruction. If you find you're falling behind, speak up."
Here she stopped in midstride, appeared to look at all the students at once and emphatically finger-yelled GET HELP. Her hands fluttered into a more subtle motion . . . she might, Theo thought, have been reminding herself of where she was in her presentation—point six.
"I can tell you that, statistically, your chance of survival and graduation is higher than the average. That's because you—this group—are something special. On the whole you're older than the school cohort groups we get for first and second semester. There's a compelling reason to start you now, rather than with the freshman class starting in a few months. Someone we trust told us you don't need to be babied or coddled, that you'll be able to do the job of becoming a pilot on your own terms. On the whole your recommendations have come directly from pilots who know you, and who are teachers in their own right.
"I can also tell you that if one of you errs to the point of death, it will greatly sadden us all, and we will mourn, but we will continue, as we have for three hundred years."
Theo caught the quick hand motion: point seven.
"Remember, yours is the interim group, and you're replacing those who washed themselves out, who flunked, who were asked not to return, who were claimed by their families for other duties, or who got drafted by their governments. Those ahead of you are technically your seniors. As we're at midyear, you will be moved into classes already in progress—and if necessary into remedial classes. Our charter with the planetary government requires the academy not only to enroll so many pilots per year, but to graduate so many a year. We are depending on you to be able to graduate, and while you'll get as much help as we can give to make you ready, your group is not supported by the general rebates and fees Anlingdin pays for local students and you'll generally not have the option to retake entire semesters."
Boy, was that ever true, Theo thought. She'd seen what the annual fee was, and it would have taken three years of Kamele's base salary to pay for her first year here . . . without Captain Cho's sponsorship she'd have never been able to enroll. And if she didn't keep her grades up, she wouldn't be able to afford to stay.
Point eight.
"If we were at the beginning of either half-term, I would be able to tell you how many of you will be sharing dormitory rooms, and give other housekeeping details. As it is, you will be scattered among existing housing arrangements, and might have anywhere from one to three other students with you. Generally, one student in each suite will clearly be the senior. Though we're not strictly military about these things—pilots are flexible, after all!—allow me to strongly suggest that the senior student be regarded as a mentor and guide, at least during your first semester. Your housing and meal information will be delivered at the tables which will be set up here while we all take advantage of the meal being laid at the back now. After the break, please have your Anlingdin cards at the ready and we'll get your piloting career under way. For the safety of all, please, no bowli balls in this room!"
There was an undercurrent of laughter as the Commander pointed out the tables piled with plates and food being uncovered and set to serve.
The next signed but unspoken command was clearly all eat.
The buffet was surprisingly lavish, especially after the stifling sameness of Vestrin's menus. There was a mix of what Theo considered to be morning food and day food, to accommodate different personal times and preferences. Theo grabbed what looked like a cheese sandwich on dark bread, and a salad plate. Real, green vegetables! Carrots! And whole slices of tomato! She hadn't seen anything so good in weeks.
She located a vacant seat at a table for four, sent a nod and quick seat taken? to the sole occupant, a kid who was already deeply involved with a slice of pie. His unoccupied hand sent back a laconic help yourself.
"Thanks," Theo said, and parked her eatables before going off in search of a beverage.
The real tea was filed on a small table away from the coffee urns, fruit juice dispensers and carafes of water. Theo flipped open the keeper and flicked through the packets on offer. Again unlike Vestrin, which had offered Terran grades of so-called "tea," here were more familiar—and vastly more welcome!—packets interleaved with the Terran leaf.
Her hopes rose. Maybe they'd have— Yes! She grinned and plucked the packet of day tea from its cubby, turned—and all but fell into a man hardly any taller than she was. She danced sideways and made a recovery, the precious packet between her fingers.
The man smiled, and gave her a brief, pretty bow, murmuring something quick and lilting. The sound was so liquid that it took her a moment to realize that it was neither Terran—the official language of the academy—nor Trade, but Liaden.
She gave back a nod, found her hands had already asked Say again? while she blurted out in what she was sure was the wrong mode and probably the wrong tense, too, "Pardon, I have very small Liaden."
The man—the tag on his jacket read "Flight Instructor Orn Ald yos'Senchul," and the right sleeve of his crisp, tailored school jacket was empty—inclined his head.
"I'm sorry," she gasped, feeling her face heat. Using hand-talk to somebody with only one hand. Way to be advertent, Theo!
Flight Instructor yos'Senchul's fingers formed an elegant sign she read as expectations betray, while he smiled and murmured in accented Terran, "My pardon, as well. I was speaking a small Liaden jest, of two with exquisite taste who search for the same treasure." The fingers moved again, shaping the air effortlessly, Apology unnecessary.
"Oh, the tea!" Theo showed her packet. "This is the kind we drink at home."
"Is it, indeed? And you have so little Liaden?"
"Sleep learned, mostly," she confessed. "I know my accent's terrible. We speak Terran at home on Delgado, but the tea, I learned from my father."
His focus went distant a moment and the single hand signed a word she read as wifechoice. "Yes, of course. Delgado is quite cosmopolitan in its beverage choices, is it not, quite unlike . . . Melchiza."
She snorted, hands signing squashed fruitwater very nearly on their own, and he laughed.
"An excellent description, and their wines are not much better. Still, they do appreciate pilots . . . and I deduce, from rumor, that you must be Theo Waitley. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. You will be in my classes starting in two days. Enjoy your meal, and your tea!"
"Thank you, sir," she said, but he had already turned to the tea chest to make his own choice. She caught up a brew-cup and moved off to her table, now full except for her place, and felt her face heat again as she went over the encounter.
Squashed fruitwater, she thought, and sighed. There must be a better sign than that!
"Erkes!" the van driver called out. "All excellent exopilots exit energetically . . ."
Theo went down the ramp on the heels of the tall girl in the green jacket from the baggage claim. The two of them pulled their bags from the rack, Theo wordlessly helping the other girl move her ridiculous pile out of the path of vehicular traffic.
"Thank you," the girl said as the van pulled away. She looked down at Theo and nodded. "I am Asu diamon Dayez," she said, pronouncing it like she expected Theo to recognize it, which she didn't. "And you are?"
"Theo Waitley." She hefted her bag, glad all over again to have only the one to deal with. "I'm in suite three-oh-two," she said, watching Asu diamon Dayez tether her bags together.
The taller girl looked up, shaking tumbled black curls out of her eyes. "So am I." She straightened, handle in one hand, and the all-important box tucked into the crook of her left arm. "Well! Let us be off, then, to discover this suite. If you will be so good as to open the door?"
* * *
Suite 302 was no bigger, Theo thought, than the apartment she and Kamele had in the Wall back on Delgado, but it was a lot better arranged. The door opened into a common room, with chairs, table, vid-screen, and a built-in counter already sporting a coffeepot and a minioven.
At the far end of the room, to the right, was another room, door open to reveal two bunks, two desks and lots of built-in storage space. To the left was a room slightly larger than the bunk room with a single bed and its own vid-screen.
She turned as the door to the hall opened to admit Asu, who was already sliding her key away into a pocket. "It works, and a good idea to test both at once," she said, giving an approving nod, which she probably meant to be friendly, but which for some reason irritated Theo.
I must be really tired, she thought, and swallowed her irritation, as she turned away to point at the bunk room.
"Which do you want, top or bottom?"
"Surely neither," Asu said crisply, steering her baggage train toward the single room. "I shall take this one."
Theo frowned. "That's probably the senior's room, do you think?"
The other girl turned her head, eyebrows up in surprise. "And I am senior, am I not? Eighteen Standards, plus a half."
She waited, her attitude one of challenge, and it wouldn't do to have an argument with her roommate on their first day, Theo reminded herself. She shrugged, hiding the sigh. "Plus a half? You're older than me," she conceded, and Asu nodded, apparently mollified.
"Please," she said, like she was giving Theo a present, "take whichever bunk pleases you." She glanced around again, frowning slightly. "Surely this can't be all the space. I will look more closely, but first, let us be secure."
She turned to the box she had placed on the table in the joint room. Theo carried her bag into the bunk room and set it down on one of the desks.
To her eye the top bunk was the best. The storage was good—more than she needed—the lighting abundant and directional, and twin fans—
"There!" Asu exclaimed.
Theo drifted out to the joint room, more curious about what was in the mysterious box than she was willing to admit even to herself.
"What is it?" she asked, blinking at the squat console with its array of varicolored lights.
Asu stared at her. "A Checksec, of course. Didn't you bring one? I mean, we've got to be careful. People are always snooping to see when you're traveling next, and if anyone's home, and intercepting the banking and everything. You never know if someone's listening with a vibcounter, or using a chipleak detector, or tapping net-calls. I mean, you can with a Checksec . . . but without one, all your business is public."
"But we're—" Theo swallowed the rest of her protest, suddenly remembering the "bug" Win Ton had found on board the Vashtara. Maybe Asu had a point, after all, she thought, warming to her roomie slightly.
That glow had faded by the time Asu had gone on to explain—at length—how in her house each room had a Checksec and they got calibrated every five days, and moved about randomly as well, so that anyone trying to spoof one would have a very hard time. And . . . it all sounded like too much trouble to Theo. She excused herself as soon as the Checksec had shown all its eyes green, which Asu said meant they were clean, "For now," she'd added darkly; and went to get settled in to quarters.
Some time later, Theo sat very much at home on the top bunk, marveling at the amount of unused storage still available to her, wondering what else she might want to own here that would fill up the space. Chaos, the counter in the joint room had a coffeepot already, and if she could get a tea maker she'd have storage for all that tea Father had suggested she not bring. Well fuff on him, she thought—and smiled.
Father had been right about her packing, she allowed, and she was glad not to have done all the huffing and puffing that others of her classmates had—
From next door came yet another scrunching noise, and perhaps a swear word she didn't know. Asu was still at work trying to fit a house's worth of goods into a closet's worth of space, now that she was finished setting up her Checksec. Honestly, you'd think there wasn't a Safety Office on Asu's world, whatever it was.
"Oh, Theo, come see!" Asu called.
Theo sighed, but in the interest of keeping peace, slid off her bunk and went to see.
The alcove room had a single bed, with a large expanse of wall behind it. That wall was now adorned with a life-sized—or maybe, Theo thought on quick second appraisal—a larger than life-sized image of a lusty nude young man with amazing ear jewelry, among other fine and entirely visible qualities, standing in front of what must be an ocean.
"Ah . . ." Theo managed, trying to recall the information about decorating campus suites that had been in the school's orientation materials.
"Yes," Asu said, smugly. "Jondeer had much the same effect on me when I first met him dressed like this on the Ridyea beach. How was I to know he was a full member of the Bovar System Scavage A-Team?"
Theo laughed despite herself—"Well, you could say he was out of uniform, couldn't you?" She sighed, and managed a calm question. "Don't you think he'll be . . . distracting?"
"No, I think Jondeer will be inspiring! After all, once I have my own pilot's license I'll be able to travel to his games whenever I like! You know, he has a pic of me that he puts up in his locker everywhere he goes! I've seen it in the background of his game interviews!"
Theo remembered now. The instructions about images had been particularly clear: Display only group-appropriate images within view of an open door, always use academy-issued hanger tabs . . .
But, she reminded herself . . . maybe first day wasn't the time to start an argument. And clearly, someone who was swapping perspix with a top-line scavage player had a lot more experience than she did. Though maybe not, she thought, the kind of experience that was going to make her much by way of that "mentor and guide" Commander Ronagy had mentioned.
Theo sighed as she clambered back to her bunk. Well, the Commander had also said that they were expected to be self-sufficient.
It wasn't like there wasn't stuff to do, so she'd be ready for tomorrow and her first classes. She turned on her commlink and keypad, set up her accounts, checked again to make sure she'd stowed everything, and memorized where she'd put what. Her single piece of luggage had a cubby to itself, and she still had three left over. She felt a small glow of satisfaction. Other than being light-years from home, missing Coyster and Father and Kamele and Win Ton and Cho and Bek, she was in good shape.
She closed her eyes. More noise and mutters came from the other room, in spite of which she felt like she could almost go to sleep. But it was too early, local time, to go to sleep, and besides, she was too twitchy. There was a school store. Maybe she'd go down and see if they had a tea maker and tea. That would use up some of the undirected energy and make the place feel a little more like home.
A chime sounded, under the racket that Asu was making. Theo looked around, frowning, but there was no repeat. Shrugging, she swung down from the bunk. Maybe she could go for a walk around Erkes Quad; familiarize herself, and get a little peace.
The door to the hall snapped open, and one of the rude crew from the Vestrin—the third-string guy, stocky and quieter than the other two—stepped inside, and stopped, staring around at the disarray of Asu's unpacking, shock apparent on his face.
"What are you doing here?" Theo demanded. "We set the locks!"
He didn't even spare her a glance, his attention focused on the open door to Asu's room, and the abundant display of male flesh plainly visible, his hands moving insistently remove please remove please remove please.
"Who are you?" Asu demanded, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips and a mighty frown on her face. "You disturb our privacy!"
"I'm Chelly Frosher," he said, sounding rushed, but surprisingly firm. "I got nine semesters in grade, so I'm senior here. I rang, but you didn't answer, so I used my key. The locks override to my card," he said pointing at the door and waving his card around. "This here will be my quarters, um, Miss. And that," he continued, pointing more or less toward Jondeer's insouciant grin, "won't meet community standards here at Erkes. This is your basic local frosh house, except for us and the house father. Some of these kids are underage. So, take it down, and move into your bunk. Thanks."