A subdued and genteel gong sounded down the corridor, counting five.
"Chaos!" Theo did run the last few steps across the hall, dodging the cluster of chatting adults blocking the entrance – and froze just inside, stomach sinking.
I'll never find him in this! she thought dismally.
Hundreds of glossy dark tables and chairs stretched away and up three curved, bright yellow walls. It might, Theo thought, have been meant to create the illusion of being inside of a coffee cup.
Inside of a full-to-overflowing coffee cup.
She strained high on her toes, scanning the room without much hope. The restaurant was so crowded that one boy with reddish brown hair and a black jacket wasn't going to stand out –
"There you are – and prompt, as well!" His voice was so close that she jumped. She took a breath and settled slowly flat-footed before turning her head to look at him.
"Late, you mean," she said.
"Arrived directly on the fifth gong," he retorted. "I insist that this is on time – and well done, indeed, if you navigated the public halls. You might think yourself at Festival, with so many dawdlers and pleasure-seekers blocking the ways!"
"But you – come by the... private halls," Theo said, remembering his arrival last night – and Cho sig'Radia's apparent displeasure with his chosen route.
He laughed softly. "Never think it! Today, my captain has decreed that I am to go as a passenger-guest upon this vessel and thus sample humility."
She eyed him. The jacket he'd worn last night was gone, though he was dressed neatly enough in a brown vest over a shirt like pale sunshine, and dark trousers.
"You were kind of late for dinner," she commented.
"Kind of, I was," he agreed, then brought the tips of his fingers sharply against his temple.
"Bah! In addition to my lack of humility, I have no manners, and even less address! First, I must beg your forgiveness. This place is never so full, being in an unpopular hall of an unpopular level. The manager must have noticed this, as well, for what should there be this morning on the public band but a discussion of this little-known treasure of our ship – " He flicked his fingers at the crowded interior. "With this result."
"You couldn't have known," Theo said. "I am glad you saw me, though..."
He smiled. "But how could I overlook you, Theo Waitley?"
"A lot of people do," she told him seriously.
"It becomes apparent, then, that a lot of people," Win Ton announced, turning toward the entrance, "are a fool. I suggest that we continue our conversation as we walk, if we are to arrive at the lecture on time."
"Oh!" She turned with him. The noisy group blocking the doorway had grown – waiting for tables, Theo thought. Win Ton threaded his way effortlessly through the blockade. Following, Theo wondered if he would teach her how to do that.
"Are the private halls less crowded?" she asked, once they were able to walk side-by-side.
Win Ton glanced at her, looking down, she realized, but not such a long way down. She was used to being the shortest one in every group, but it was pleasant not to be so much shorter than her companion.
"For some," he said slowly, "there are private halls – and only at some times. Most usually, they are less crowded and more direct, being less concerned with – " He swept his arm out in a grand gesture that seemed to include Vashtara's entire interior – "the art of space." He grinned at her. "Or the enticement of tourists."
Whatever, Theo thought, the "art of space" was. Still, she liked to hear him talk; he had a nice voice, and his accent was... interesting. Rounded and... flowy, like he'd buffed all the sharp edges off his words.
"Did your jacket let you get into the back hallways?" she asked, which gained her another glance from beneath long, reddish lashes.
"In some measure," Win Ton said slowly, "the jacket allowed me into the private ways. Be aware, though, my friend, that the jacket is both a burden and a joy, as my piloting instructor was somewhat over-fond of telling us."
Theo blinked. "What – " she began, but Win Ton was angling toward a wall mounted with a dozen or more screens, each showing a different animal.
"The Pet Library!" he exclaimed. "Now we shall see wonders, Theo Waitley!"
* * * *
In light of her long service to the Liaden Scouts, as well as her position in a clan that had given many to a similar service, it would not be wrong to suppose that Cho sig'Radia had a lamentable tendency to... meddle in matters that did not, perhaps, fall directly within her duty.
Indeed it could with some accuracy be said that the Liaden Scouts as an entity stood as the galaxy's premier meddler – witness her most recent assignment.
Despite which, one did not wish to unnecessarily disturb the peace of chance-met strangers, nor meddle too nearly – or at all! – in a collegial situation fraught with nuance one could not hope to master within the space of one brief seating.
And, yet...
Unless matters Melchizan had altered considerably since her last briefing session, there was perhaps more peril attending the scholarly group's so-dry and tedious search of literature than might be realized.
One would dislike, Cho thought, rising from her desk and running her fingers through her short hair, to find that the lack of a word in the right ear had placed innocents in the way of danger.
One would dislike that, extremely.
* * * *
"Many base creatures adopt a social order," the lecturer said, in his abrupt, disapproving way. Theo couldn't figure out if he disapproved of his audience in general, of the cranky littlie who had several times announced that he wanted to "see bears now!" in particular, or if it was the subject of his lecture that he found annoying. Disapproving or not, though, he did have a number of interesting facts about norbears to impart, for which Theo was willing to forgive his uncordial lecturing style.
"Norbears are highly socialized creatures. Typically, a family group will rally around a chieftain, and claim a certain territory as their own. When the family group grows too large for the chosen territory to comfortably support, a secondary chieftain will arise, and lead a portion of the group to another territory, where they will settle and live, until force of numbers triggers the rise of a tertiary chieftain who, in his turn leads a sub-group to a new territory."
The lecturer paused. In this small silence, the fidgety littlie sighed, and asked his mother in a loud whisper to make that man be quiet.
"Norbears have few natural enemies," the lecturer resumed, carefully. "However, their natural habitat is unregulated and quite wild. Fluctuations in the availability of food are common, and, as base creatures will do, the norbears have produced a biologic coping mechanism. When food is scarce, fewer cubs are birthed. Strangely, it has been noted that domesticated groups, such as we have here on Vashtara, adapt themselves to their artificial but far safer conditions by also birthing fewer cubs."
He looked out over the audience.
"In just a moment, those of you who wish the opportunity may follow our pet librarian, Mr. Rogen, to the norbears' enclosure. Before you go, however, I would like to speak a little about expectations.
"As I have said, norbears are natural empaths. However, they are also base creatures. If you expect intelligence, or cognition, you will be disappointed."
Another pause, and then a glance to the back of the room.
"Mr. Rogen. If you would take over, please?"
* * * *
The cafe on the atrium deck was, in Cho sig'Radia's experience, underused. It had perhaps been the intention of the designers that it be a quiet place for contemplative study, or for sweet privacy of other sorts. Certainly, the tables tucked well into the embrace of fragrant foliage, and the numbers of flowering vines artfully scaling the walls spoke of a certain thoughtfulness in the matter.