She hand-flashed work work work at him but he was already singing as she moved—and he stopped suddenly, pointing back toward her berth.
"Pilot, your jacket. You earned it. You're on port. Wear it!"
Theo opened her mouth to rebut and found his hands were already replying with:
Order from shift captain!
She mocked a bow then, and went back to get her jacket.
The distance to the comm office was no shorter, but in the way that even minor familiarity with a place will change perception, it felt closer to the Primadonna this time. True, the cart attendant, a young girl who drove a lot like Father, took her directly to the Pilots Guild gate, and this time when Theo entered with card in hand she was waved by as if they all knew who she was.
"Captain Tranza was to make . . ."
The clerk looked up from a desk full of screens.
"Yes, Pilot Waitley. With all the confusion going on I'm afraid there'll be a wait; if you like, you can catch up on the news at the café and we'll send someone, or listen for your call."
There was a lot of activity, and the tiny café was full of screens and talk. There was a flutter of hands and nods when she entered, and quick glances from those hoping to see a familiar face. In fact, Theo did recognize several of the gathered pilots as having been on route or in a bar or on port here at the same time in the last year. If anybody thought her jacket too big, none said, and none challenged her when she grabbed a table with a multiscreen already scrolling streams.
Korval attacks Liad one stream was marked, and another screamed out Scouts Repulse Armed Invasion at Nev'lorn. The large JONBA AGENCY First Class Pilots Wanted NOW Top Money Top Guarantee ad bounced at the top of one screen while from the bottom a pulsing blue announced Mercenaries. We Make Worlds Safe. Join Us. Your Bonus is Waiting.
At the table to her right, a large woman was talking a little too loud, as if her coffee was boosted.
"Tell you true, I have this from clean source. Aelliana Caylon is back. They say she came busting in from Galaxy Nowhere with guns blazing and blew apart battleships with her little courier ship. These are great times we live in, friend, great times!"
One of her table mates was chuckling: "So when do we expect Bopper to show up, or the Second Terran Fleet?"
Theo touched the order board for the morning tea special, and leaned back. She could have read all this on Primadonna if she'd have known the comms were backed up.
"Punch up the register, sandfoot," the woman at the right-side table told her mate. "No? Then I will. I met the Caylon once myself, I did, her and her other. Ride the Luck. She was a pick-up pilot, you know—just like us. Never missed a delivery, too!"
"She's been dead a long time, Casey. No matter how pretty she was, she's dead."
That voice was sad, and Theo glanced over to the table, where the louder woman—in Jump leather—was crowing, and the sad person craning her neck to see—
"Hah! Lookithere. Ride the Luck, Solcintra, Liad, Aelliana Caylon Pilot and Captain, Dock Sixteen-A Binjali Repair, Solcintra. Not Accepting.
"Tell me you see it! Right there in the register. Register don't carry ghosts, Tervot. And just like a Liaden to keep a working ship working, ain't it? Here, let's look for the big one! See it, see it? Dutiful Passage, Solcintra, Liad, Priscilla Mendoza Pilot and Captain, Orbit Seventeen Liad, Not Accepting."
There was a stunned silence, spreading over several adjacent tables.
"Mendoza's captain?" someone asked, somberly. "Where's Shan?"
"That's right," the loud woman said, not so loud, now. "yos'Galan was master—for how many years? Damn! They had all that fighting. You don't think—?"
There was a rustle two tables away and a plump man lurched to his feet. "I gotta get me a message out . . ."
"Queue's long on that," the sad-voiced person said, but the guy was already gone. She pulled the screen to her and threw in her own request. "Now look, Vitale, here's the news archive for when the Caylon got killed—"
The third occupant of the table laughed. "Won't take true for an answer," he said, as the conversations around started to pick up again.
The large woman shook her head.
"Hey, that's Korval-kin you're talking about. Korval is the most Liaden you can get, and if the registry says Aelliana Caylon's parked her ship at Binjali's, well I believe it, cause that's where she always flew from. You know better'n to trust news archives, Tervot!"
Theo sighed. Maybe she should go back to Primadonna, if the comm lines were that long. Or she could ask Tranza to authorize use of ship's comm; she trusted him not to snoop in her private messages.
Unfortunately, she didn't precisely trust Mayko to do the same.
Thinking of Mayko brought to mind that list of destinations, Delgado among them. Maybe she could get some crew rest herself—visit Father and Kamele. Coyster—Coyster was an elder cat now, looking like dignity itself in the last pics from—
"Vitale, shut your face!" came a vehement whisper from the table on her right.
She looked up in time to see the large woman blush, then push purposefully to her feet.
She nodded to Theo, hands asking permission to approach.
Theo granted it, warily sitting a little straighter though without resorting to dance.
The woman stepped closer, and attempted a bow.
"I'd like to let you know, Pilot, I wasn't talking personal. I'm just so glad to see The Caylon back that—well, I betcha most Liadens are glad that she's back, isn't that so? And if they managed to keep her hid so she could come back, why that's fine. I wasn't trying to, you know, impugn your melant'i or—"
Hold course hold course Theo signed, aware that everyone at the woman's table was watching with trepidation.
"I'm not a Liaden, Pilot. Please relax. I'm fine."
"Pilot, your tea, and handwich." The advertised items landed on the table before Theo, and the waiter was gone that quickly. The big woman nodded, glancing particularly at the tea.
"Yah, First, I see," she said, almost whispering. "Lots of folks are traveling quiet. Look, I'm Casey Vitale. Fly with Chenowith and Gladder. Right now I've got Aldershot on a coldpad until they get me new orders."
She handed over a card, and bowed again. "At your service. I get a little het up sometimes when I'm grounded, and right now, what with all the sudden traffic through here, I'm waiting for a beam."
Theo inclined her head, which was the proper answer to the bow—and exactly what a Liaden would have done. She sighed, reached into her pocket and returned the favor.
"Theo Waitley," she said.
Her card simply said: Primadonna, Theo Waitley, Hugglelans Galactic.
Casey Vitale grinned. "Hey, that's a good outfit. Good outfit. I—"
"Scouts!" came the call from somewhere near the door. "Crew of 'em! Weapons on display!"
That was enough to startle Theo, who looked away from Casey Vitale, trying to imagine a crew of Scouts so bold as to . . .
There was a crew of them, uniformed, and weapons in plain sight on their belts, a taller one in front pointing toward the single free table in the back corner, one with a view of the exit.
Hands fluttered all around, and nods, and murmurs as the café patrons took in the sight, and the silent march of the Scouts, as one wearing a half-plex goggle over his eyes and upper face made a large, shapeless motion with his hand. His wrists were encumbered with wraparound healing bracelets or supports, and his face mottled with fresh-grown skin still not toned. His signal, sloppy as it had been, halted the rest in mid-march.