"Truly," he murmured to Mandrin, who was napping in her usual spot on the desk, "it's nothing short of amazing what one can accomplish when one is unencumbered by child and mistress."
Mandrin vouchsafed no reply to this observation, if indeed she heard him. Indolent creatures, cats.
Well.
"Scallion," the OTS crackled around the permanently irritated voice of the second shift master on Delgado Station. "If your vee isn't adjusted by my next refresh, that's a megadex fine."
"Ain't nothing the matter with our vee, Station Master, 'cept a big, griefen cruise ship in the way."
"If you wanna pay the fine, Scallion, that's – "
"This is Vashtara, out of Ibenvue." The new voice was crisp, no-nonsense and bore a heavy accent that was neither Liaden nor Standard Terran. "I infer that it is we who have muddled the station master's calculations. It is suggested that the pilot of the ship Scallion bring the vessel to a slightly tangential course which retains the precious vee, perhaps on the propitious heading oh-two-seven, oh-four-seven, oh-eight-seven. This heading will avoid holing the big, griefen cruise ship, which will please me perhaps even more than it will please Scallion."
There was a pause, while pilot and station master likely did their math, then the rather subdued voice of Scallion's pilot. "That's good to do it. Station Master?"
The sigh was audible even through the static. "Adopt and amend course, Scallion."
Jen Sar Kiladi shifted in his chair, lazily considering the exchange. The pilot of the Vashtara had been... marginally within her melant'i. That she had broadcast the amended course, rather than beaming a private suggestion to the station master hinted at deeper tensions between cruise ship and station. He frowned slightly. Ibenvue, was it? He had lately been reading some interesting news out of –
From downstairs... a sound.
The man in the chair opened his eyes and came silently to his feet. On the corner of the desk, Mandrin had raised her head, ears pricked, staring at the doorway.
The sound came again, stealthily. The sound of the garden door. Being closed.
Silent, he glided across the revolving star fields, plucking the Gallowglass cane from its place near the door as he passed through. He paused in the shadow at the top of the stairs, the stick held cross-body at waist level, fingers curved 'round the handle.
Quiet footsteps came from below, and the sound of soft, irregular breathing. He took a breath himself, deep and deliberate – and waited.
On Delgado, a handgun was unlikely. On Delgado, let it be known, sneaking into a house uninvited was all but unheard of. Which meant that he might in a moment face someone desperate to the point of foolhardiness.
Or a professional. He wondered, briefly, if he were any longer the equal of a professional.
The footsteps passed from carpet to wood – and did not strike the tuned board. He let the point of the stick go, free hand flashing out to the switch as Mandrin rushed past him, taking the stairs in one long leap. The hall light flared from dim to brilliant. At the bottom of the flight, a thin figure with pale, wind-knotted hair threw an unsteady hand up to shield her eyes.
"Ow," she said. And, then, as Mandrin hurled herself against canvas-clad knees. "Hey."
At the top of the stairs, he took a careful breath, and if he leaned a moment on the cane, it was not... only... to be certain that the blade was well-seated.
"Good evening, Theo," he said – Calmly, he cautioned himself; the child's half-frantic already. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?"
She blinked up at him, dark eyes wide and cheeks reddened with cold. "I have to talk to you," she said, her voice wobbling, though he thought it was adrenaline, rather than fright. "I – Necessity, Father."
He sighed quietly, and inclined his head.
"An appeal to necessity must of course be honored," he acknowledged gravely. "However, as survival is also an imperative, I must ask if your mother knows that you are here."
Theo blinked up at him. "No," her voice voice wavered. She cleared her throat and repeated, more strongly. "No, I came on my own decision."
"I see."
He descended the stairs, taking care to move slowly. When he reached the bottom of the flight, he touched her cheek gently, finding it chill, indeed.
"I will make tea, I think, while you go into the common room and call your mother. Please tell her that I will bring you home, discreetly, when you and I have finished our business, and that you are quite unharmed." He raised an eyebrow and made a show of scanning her hectic person. "You are quite unharmed, are you not, Theo?"
She gulped. "Yes sir."
"Good." He nodded toward the common room. "Call your mother."
* * * *
"You're where?" Kamele sounded more shocked than angry. Theo wished she knew whether that was a good thing or not. "Why?"
Okay, she thought, tucking her left hand under her right arm. Should've expected that. She took a breath. "Necessity," she said firmly.
Silence. Theo bit her lip. Necessity was – Kamele knew that you didn't fib about necessity. Not to Father. But whether she would want to know more, right now, and how to answer her if she did –
"Very well," Kamele said. She was starting to sound mad, now, Theo noted unhappily. "I will expect a full explanation when you get home."
* * * *
"Now you must tell me, Theo," Father said, handing her a cup of tea, "precisely how you arrived here. Not, I trust, the late bus again?"
She pulled her legs up under her and cuddled into the corner of the double chair. It was funny, now that she was starting to get warm, she was shivering.
"No-o," she said as Father settled back into his chair. "I... used a Skoot."
"Ah." He sipped tea, meditatively. Theo did the same, smiling at the notes of orange and elmoni – and smiled again when Mandrin jumped up and curled without preamble against her.
"I feel compelled to mention," Father murmured, stretching his legs out before him and crossing them at the ankles, "that the Skoots do call in."
"I know that," Theo said, though she hadn't until she'd asked the Serpent icon.
"Indeed," he said politely. "Therefore, you intended to be caught out?"
"No," she said, looking down to stroke Mandrin. She looked up and met his eyes. "I ran it on manual."
One eyebrow rose. "Forgive me, Theo. The fact that you've had training on the Skoots momentarily slipped my mind."
"Well, I haven't," she blurted. "And I did have a couple seconds where I thought maybe I'd made a mistake. But then – it was easy."
There was a small pause while he sipped his tea. "Just so," he murmured. "Easy."
There was another small silence while they both addressed their cups, then Father spoke again.
"I apprehend that you have mastered the puzzle of turning off your mumu's ID emissions. But I do wonder about the Eyes."
She looked down, watching her hand slide along Mandrin's glossy fur. "I – I found a map of unwatched exits and streets," she said, which wasn't exactly a fib.
"Fascinating," Father murmured. "One wonders – forgive the prying ways of an elderly professor! – one does wonder, however, where you... found... this map."
It was never a good idea to try to slide a fib – even a half-fib – past Father. Theo sighed and looked up, reluctantly.