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 your case now."
Peripheral vision is a wonderful thing, except that it almost cost Theo an inadvertent laugh as hands on both sides of her flashed quick instructions, Veradantha's No perhaps a tenth-beat behind yos'Senchul's silence.
Chelly looked around, checking with the others at the front table before looking toward Wil, and then, almost pointedly, at Theo. She refolded her hands—left over right—and looked right back at him. Inner calm.
Chelly let the quiet stretch a moment longer, then nodded, naming all present so that he was sure who was who, and so they could be too, then returned to the cheat sheet.
"With the consensus of all present parties I will state the situation as it came to the attention of Ops."
Inner calm.
Chelly's recitation was bare-boned: a call for medical assistance with security backup came during the early evening free-flight period, with a witness reporting "a discussion or something" between a pilot and the acting field coordinator during which one person "was just about knocked out one-handed" and the other was "bleeding to beat Betelgeuse."
"A moment, Mr. Frosher."
Chelly stopped, head turning rapidly. The Commander's hand motion was a soothing For clarity toward Chelly—and a scathing discussion talk talk discussion as she glanced between Wil and Theo. Her look was less than warm and Theo wished she had some tea to sip on.
"I've been called from my dinner to discuss a discussion between two of our students? I see. Please continue."
Theo felt as if she'd shrunk, but the flight instructor's briefly fluttering hand was calm: fly the ship.
"Accounts vary somewhat," Chelly continued. "The witness suggests he became aware of an animated discussion in progress as the principals arrived, one which, I guess the word is 'escalated' because both parties were focused on different goals. The witness indicated that perhaps Pilot Waitley was refusing to thumbprint something and during the insistence, accidental contact occurred between the individuals and—"
Theo's twitch was calmed by Veradantha's smooth, not a problem hand-sign. Wil, meanwhile, jerked 'round to glare at Theo.
Chelly went on.
"The result was that both parties went to the infirmary. Pilot Waitley suffered a flesh wound to the scalp; Wilsmyth suffered contusions and a few moments of disorientation."
"First strike, Mr. Frosher?"
This from the Commander.
"The cameras might tell for sure, ma'am, but the sequence seems to have been an accidental . . . ummm . . . an accidental swipe of the notebook Wilsmyth carried, which caught Pilot Waitley by surprise. Pilot Waitley's response was, I gather, a move of the dance, a trained response."
"Thank you. Please continue."
"I ask the involved parties if the summary of events to this point is accurate."
Theo sat back, thinking hard, willing away her blush, willing away her anger. Inner calm.
"Yes, but—" Wilsmyth began, and stopped as a hand came to rest on his arm.
"I think yes," Theo managed. "That's what Bell would have seen. I mean, that's what happened, I guess. I got swiped upside the head and yeah, that dance move was right there. Automatic."
Chelly glanced around, then down at his cheat sheet, nodding as if he were mentally clicking off options as he read them.
"We have a situation that was not the result of an inherent fault in the physical plant of the academy, nor was it the direct result of catastrophic equipment failure, nor of procedure."
He paused, nodded once more with authority, and went on.
"Does any member of this fact-finding wish to go to formal process now? If so, please state your case."
Theo could see Wilsmyth staring at his pilot advisor, and saw a flurry of low to the table hand-talk she couldn't get much out of. For her part, her hands were still after acknowledging Veradantha's low-voiced, "Please wait."
Chelly looked about carefully and nodded. "Who will assert being a victim?"
The relocated administrator was whispering urgently into Wilsmyth's ear, while at Theo's table, yos'Senchul signed an unruffled: best stay course.
After a few moments Chelly tapped his cheat sheet, looking relieved.