"Father?" his voice was brisk. "It's Aito. I apologize for the—Yes. Anlingdin Academy's Healer has tendered his resignation, it—Seven days. Yes, sir. I have Theo Waitley here in the office. She has been dismissed for—I expect they are, sir. I—Inciting a riot and being a nexus of violence. No, sir. She has had tea and food. She reports herself capable and refuses painkillers, though she would like a job and a place to sle—Certainly, not. It would be most inappropriate. Indeed, I will tell her you said so, sir. About the Healer? Shall I—Ah. Thank you, sir. Your voice, of course, carries the—Pardon? One moment, if you please, I will ask."
Aito cradled the receiver against his shoulder and looked over to Theo. "What plans has Kara ven'Arith? Does she follow you here?"
Theo shook her head. "I don't know. She—I gave her leave to gather up my things and to do with them as she sees fit. But, her family's local!"
"Yes," Aito said seriously. "Her family is indeed local." He lifted the receiver to his lips again.
"Theo does not know her friend's precise plans, which is doubtless wise. The ven'Arith has accepted the burden of Theo's will, in the matter of private possessions left behind . . . yes. Good night, Father."
He cradled the receiver and sat staring at it for a moment before he raised his eyes to Theo.
"My father thanks you for your service to Hugglelans, and for bringing the news directly. We had, of course, heard rumors and rumbles, but we had not suspected that the explosion would occur so soon."
"I don't think anybody did," Theo said. "Pilot yos'Senchul thought something was . . . imminent, but not immediate. That's—I think that's why he had me get my card at the station."
"Short Wing is longsighted," Aito said, and Theo shook her head.
"You're going to have to find another nickname," she said. "He has both arms now. The new one's mech. Top grade, too."
Aito stared. "You tell me that yos'Senchul has accepted the prosthetic? That—" He glanced toward the console, hesitated, and murmured, probably to himself, "No, it will wait."
"About a full-time job," Theo said, after a long moment had passed and Aito hadn't said anything else.
He started, looked to her and straightened in his chair.
"Ah, yes, the job," he said, and it was his professional smile he showed her, which didn't make much sense, Theo thought, though her stomach thought otherwise.
"Unfortunately, we cannot hire you here at Hugglelans Eylot," Aito said, so smoothly that the sense of his words almost slid past her.
She gasped, now realizing how much she had depended on Hugglelans—how certain she'd been that she had a place here. But, of course, she thought, painfully, they didn't want trouble. They were local, too.
"However," Aito was continuing, "it may be possible that you will qualify for an apprenticeship position with Hugglelans Galactica."
Theo stared, feeling slow and slightly stupid. "Hugglelans Galactica?" she repeated.
"In fact," Aito said briskly. "Did you think that this yard and the Howsenda was all there was? We span worlds, Theo Waitley. And, spanning worlds, we therefore have need of pilots."
"I thought you were a—service for pilots," Theo said. "The yard, the restaurant, the repair bays . . ."
"All of which we would need to maintain for our own ships! Why not extend the service and earn a fee to offset the cost of doing business?"
He stood. "We'll talk more of this after you've rested. I'm going to put you in the ready room."
Feeling not much less confused, Theo rose and followed him down the short hall to the rear.
"What about the pilot on call?" she asked, as Aito opened the door onto a room just big enough to hold a cot.
"The pilot on call this evening prefers to sleep other than in the ready room. As he's never missed a call and his partner is understanding of these things, Father accepts the arrangement." He pointed to the right. "Sanitary facilities at the end of the hall. You'll sleep safe tonight, Theo," he said, turning to look earnestly into her eyes. "Father is grateful for your service. After you've waked and broken your fast, ask whoever is out front to call me."
"Why?" Theo asked.
Aito smiled. "So that I can get you started on that application for full-time work you wanted." He inclined his head—half bow and half nod.
"Good night, sleep well."
"Good night, Aito," she answered, and stood in the doorway until he reached the top of the short hall, and the door closed behind him.
Please insert Howsenda Hugglelans employee card in the red slot, the instructions ran across the screen in rapid yellow letters. Theo complied.
Please insert Guild or other professional identification in the blue slot.
She slid the Guild card into the blue slot, feeling a pang as the machine accepted it. You'll get it back, she told herself sternly. They just need to download your data.
Please wait, the screen instructed her, the letters flowing into the Howsenda Hugglelans logo. The logo expanded, twinkling, against a black background, morphing into a blanket of stars spreading prettily, if not very realistically, into infinity.
Theo closed her eyes and counted to twenty-four. When she opened them, the graphic had faded, replaced by dignified blue-limned letters.
Welcome, Theo Waitley, Pilot Second Class. Your Guild license is active and cross-matches with your Howsenda Hugglelans employee identification. Following is the general piloting application for Hugglelans Galactica. Data gathered by this application resides, encrypted, in the Howsenda Hugglelans corporate database. Job applicants have the right to refuse three offered jobs before they are removed from the active database. Ready to proceed? Yes/No.
Theo thumbed Yes.
The questions were interesting, not all of them having to do with piloting, but a good number asking about her hobbies, whether she liked to be in a crowd or by herself, if she had any pets, if she'd taken self-defense. The "yes" on that question opened up a cluster of sub-questions: When? Which type? Was she proficient? Had she taught?
After that, there were more general questions, then the application program wanted to know if there were any planets she preferred not to travel to, if she had any outstanding local "rule violations," if so, what and where.
Finally, the screen flickered and one last question rose to its surface:
Are you qualified to carry a weapon?
Theo punched "yes" a little harder than was strictly necessary, and waited for a series of questions about her gun, her training with it, and her years of ownership.
Instead, the application program thanked her for her input and promised that a representative of Hugglelans Galactica would be contacting her with a job offer very soon.
It was, in fact, three days before she was contacted by a representative of Hugglelans Galactica, and that by proxy, in the person of Aito himself, who shook her awake on her cot in the on-call room, where she'd spent her time sleeping and working nav problems with her needles.
"Theo! Your ship is here!"
"What!" She was awake all at once, on her feet and stamping into her boots, her hands flew down her body, touching pockets, doing inventory. She grabbed her sweater off the hook and hauled it on as she followed Aito up the hall.
"I thought I got three refusals!" she said, as they came into the office.
He gave her a peculiar look over his shoulder. "Do you want to leave this planet?" he asked.
"Yes," she admitted.
"Do you," he asked, slotting a data card, glancing at the readout and nodding, "want to work as a pilot?"
"Yes!"
"Do you want to put your friends in peril?"
"What? No!"
"Good. Then you'll take this—" He flipped the card to her; she snatched it out of the air and stood holding it, watching him.