"Now," Win Ton said calmly, his fingers dancing on a touchpad. "The pilot would take it kindly if Pilot Waitley would ride comm, and clear us with the tower. Coords—"
"Win Ton," Theo's voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again, watching the side of his face, seeing concentration and . . . something else. "Win Ton."
He glanced up, eyes soft with concentration. "Yes?"
"What are you doing?" she asked carefully, twisting her hands together on her lap so she wouldn't reach out and touch that tantalizing board, though she wanted to!
His gaze sharpened somewhat. "I am offering opportunity," he said, his tone precisely as careful as hers. "Will you grasp it? Or will you be shy and orderly?"
She knew better than to take a dare . . . well, mostly she did. But, that board . . . She swallowed and nodded, leaning forward.
"Comm is lit yellow," he said quietly. "The rest of the board is slaved to mine, so you may follow, if you like."
"Yeah . . ." she whispered, and raised a hand to finger the yellow toggles.
"Tower, this is Theo Waitley, sitting second on Torvin." She paused, glancing to the amused Scout, who signaled there now, and her screen lit with ship numbers and info in proper sequence for her to read out, which she did, adding, "Out of, Solcintra, Liad, local berth Number 9F. Torvin's pilot requests a tow to a launch pad at your earliest convenience."
There was a moment of perhaps shocked silence, then a voice she didn't know answered calmly in the affirmative. "Acknowledge, there, Torvin, we see ship systems coming live. We'll call out the horses and camels now, if you can wait that long."
Theo was grinning like a fool, and only part of that was the joke and Win Ton's resultant raised eyebrows.
"Where are we going? By way of where?"
"Very good, Second!" Win Ton said. The info flowed to her screen and she recognized the sequence out of class a few days before, catching her breath, and then laughing.
"Ballistic? That's some g-work, isn't it?" She must have whispered because Win Ton half-bowed, and whispered in reply, "Yes, it is."
He continued in a more normal voice, "Watch the screens: is that a camel or a horse? And what is funny, Sweet Mystery?"
They'd brought round the tractor that towed the shuttle, and as she watched, Win Ton enumerated the camera views, showing her how to change them. She paid scrupulous attention, saying, "That must be the camel, that's the one they only use on spacecraft. And what's funny is the ballistic routing. Asu told me, before you knocked, that everyone knew you were still on port because there hadn't been an outgoing sonic boom!"
She glanced at him, saw him manfully straighten the smile off his face.
"Ah, did she? Then her reputation is mine to save. Please note these amendments, and file the corrected figures when queried."
They felt the tow start as Win Ton went over radio and feed sequence with her, bailout sequence, and how to set vessel on autoland. With each quick lesson he looked at her, and it was hard not to keep looking at him, except she had to show that she'd heard by using the keys on her quiet board.
The tractor pulled free, and tower's voice was live:
"Torvin, your flight plan will be accepted by link, since we're getting good feed, please file, and we'll acknowledge."
Theo glanced at Win Ton.
"It is good form to strap in before liftoff," he said conversationally, "and please, file the plan."
Theo touched the send switch and yanked the strap. It was clear they were in the tower's eye, because the response was instant, and she couldn't hit the acknowledge switch right back, because she was tangled in lap strap.
"Be sure to file intentions with your destination, Torvin. You may lift at will after your launch signal. Enjoy dinner!"
"Send the duplicate routing on, Second, and we will . . ."
Theo did that as Win Ton seemed to go half quiet before saying, ". . . please Asu diamon Dayez, no doubt."
The klaxon sounded tinny through the ship's outside ears.
"Now," Win Ton said, and engaged lift.
By the time they'd set down at the field by Howsenda Hugglelans, with Theo riding comm, her head felt like it was in . . . some other place; like it wasn't directly attached to the rest of her body. She'd followed the board lights, listening to Win Ton's soft-voiced explanation of what he was doing, interrupting only once, with a question.
"How do I get to do this?"
"This? Become a Scout?"
"No—fly this."
"Ah!" He'd laughed, softly. "Much less difficult! Courier pilots need only be first class, with a demonstrated willingness to fly like a lunatic on any occasion." Her attention on the board, she'd felt, rather than seen him grin at her. "You would do well, I think."
"I think so, too," she'd answered, and lapsed again into rapt silence.
Hull cool, they exited Torvin.
Win Ton offered an arm and she leaned on that, grateful for the support as they approached the desk.
A familiar-looking man in a sleeveless vest met them, with a grin and a nod to Theo.
"You return!" said the waiter who wore too much vya. "And this time, you have forgotten your aunt! Very good, Pilot. A terrace table for you and your . . . friend?"
"Yes," Theo said, straightening, but keeping a firm grip on Win Ton's arm. "Please."
They followed him up the ramps and let him seat them together on a cushioned bench by a secluded table overlooking the field. Win Ton laughed softly as they were momentarily left alone.
"You are known everywhere, Theo Waitley! And rightly admired."
She shook her head at him. "I was here a while ago with Pilot yos'Senchul and Veradantha. Happens we had the same server—luck, is all."
"Indeed," Win Ton said with a grin. "Luck." He leaned forward and touched her hand. "Now that the fascination of lift has evaporated, tell me of yourself."
"There's not much to tell," she protested, "outside of what I've been writing to you."
"Ah. Then tell me this: Why does Admin Frosher claim you for an attitude problem?"
"Oh, that," Theo said, as their server came back with the requested tea.
"Service, Pilots?"
"Today's special," Theo and Win Ton said simultaneously—and laughed in the same heartbeat.
Their server smiled. "Today's special, it is. A moment while I gather what is needful."
"Now," Win Ton said, "tell me."
So, over tea and befores, she told him. Win Ton was a good listener, asking questions only when she'd gotten off track; willing to wait while she sorted out her narrative. When she got to the part about Wilsmyth jigging her flight time he said something sharp in what she guessed was Liaden, though it wasn't in the lexicon she was laboriously sleep-learning, with Veradantha's permission.
"Where did he strike you?" he asked.
Theo raised her hand to her head. "It's healed now."
"Let me see, if I may?" He smoothed her hair back from the place; she shivered at the touch of his fingers, even as she leaned into it.
"So soft, like sea mist . . ." His breath was warm against her temple; his lips were gentle against the place where the cut had been.
Theo closed her eyes, feeling a not-entirely-unpleasant roiling in her stomach.
"Yes," Win Ton murmured. "It has healed without a scar." He kissed the place again, and Theo reached—
"Will it please you to have dinner now, Pilots?" their server asked, amusement lacing his voice.
Win Ton eased back and considered him before looking to Theo. "Pilot?"
She sighed, and met the server's interested gaze. "Yes," she said levelly. "Dinner would be most welcome."
"So," she ventured, after they had been served. "Now that you've heard my boring news, don't I get to hear yours?"