Theo shook her head. "I'm a Waitley of Delgado, from a long line of scholars," she said. "My father, though, said that I should go to the Delm of Korval for really big problems—but only for really big problems. I thought it was a joke for—for a lot of reasons, but apparently, he meant it."
"Well." Kara frowned slightly and hitched a hip up on the table holding the screen. "Korval is—beyond High House. It concerns itself with pilots and with ships, so its interests are . . . broader than the interests of, say, my clan. Most delms solve for the members of their clan. Korval is said to solve for pilotkind. Delm Korval—of course, you wouldn't want to take anything other than life or death to Delm Korval." She paused. "Your father was a scholar, you had said."
"He is. But before that, he was a pilot."
Kara's face cleared. "That explains it, then. He was passing pilotlore. Perfectly reasonable—and good advice, too, though of the kind you hope never to use."
"Oh." Theo thought about it, then shook her head. "There was a book—a book for littlies, Sam Tim's Ugly Day—and it was all about how you didn't take problems you could solve yourself to Delm Korval."
"And very good advice that is, as well!" Kara had said warmly. "There are all sorts of books written about Korval, Theo. Are you in on the bowli ball game, or not?"
The academy shuttle usually landed in a long, relatively flat trajectory from the north-northeast, with a one-hundred-sixty to one-hundred-eighty degree turn to do a final lineup for touchdown. Theo stared off in that direction while Kara, shoulder comfortably against hers, was on comm with someone who was observing from the control room.
Rather than being right down strip-side for the landing they stood on the slight bluff overlooking the field, not wanting to crowd the operations crew and knowing that the ship coming in would take a few minutes to cool down once landed, anyway. Of ordinary traffic—a couple of Sky Kings circled to the west among scattered clouds, and a soarplane was well to the east, bright amidst a clearing sky.
There was movement close by, and Kara leaned into her shoulder.
"Ops says we're all looking the wrong way. The ship is coming straight on in—it isn't orbiting first."
Theo turned, hands slinging straight run, power pilot double double. Kara grinned, sharing the news with the rest of the crew.
"Freck says we gotta watch toward south. Expect a—"
Karroom BOOM! The field shook, and Bova brought his long-glasses up to search the sky.
Kara laughed, and finished, ". . . sonic boom."
"Got em!" Bova yelled, pointing.
Theo shaded her eyes, staring upward—and there it was, a hard, glittering point with a pulsating beacon that looked larger than the craft itself. It palpably dropped, occasional contrails wisping behind it.
"This is a courier class ship, Team," said Bova. "Ought to be flashy, ought to be about the size of the shuttle or a smidge smaller, they say, closer to a packet boat for those of you from outworlds."
Theo heard chatter from the other team members—"Dropping quick; pilot's got an iron stomach" and "Not a sign of drift and we've got a hefty breeze here!"
Kara read more info from the comm. "Often run solo, the Torvin can carry a crew of three plus three passengers on need, built thirty-seven Standards ago at the Korval-Mugston Yards on the Yolanna platform . . ."
Now the ship was taking shape as a gleaming golden stripe angling rapidly above them, a stripe with shiny wing-tip stabilizers on each end and now the stripe showed a bulge above and behind the central nose, all gleaming gold, the beacon under its nose still bright but now echoed by underwing green and red.
"Still zooming!" Vin said, and Theo felt the landing tension in her arms and shoulder, the thing was too low, too fast, too short of the runway and—
"Ah!"
The relief was vocal across a dozen mouths as the glitter caught the light, the ship flaring out and riding the airwave in front of itself, touching down discreetly after passing over the blast pad and the threshold and somewhat ahead of the persistent dark marks occasioned by generations of student pilots.
Theo still had her mouth open as the sound of touchdown reached her, a barely distinguishable barrup as the ship actually settled, as the golden thing gleamed by at twice the rate a Star King landed at . . .
A sudden hissing reached them as a brief cloud obscured the bright beacons well down the airstrip . . .
"Retros," came knowledgeably from behind her. "Look at that thing slow down!"
The sound of the rocket hiss almost obscured another comment.
"Scouts!" said Bova, lowering his glasses and shaking his head. "You like 'em or you hate 'em, whichever, they sure can pilot!"
Theo stared at the ship, still slowing on the runway.
"Scouts?" she said to Kara quietly.
"Come on, Theo, let's go down!"
The Commander strode by the group, headed toward the Ops room, and so did yos'Senchul, who flashed excellent progress plans move forward to the lot of them before heading in.
"Ops must be crushed," Theo said to Kara. They and the rest of the team were waiting while the distant Torvin was attached to a small fleet of tractors and towed toward the shuttle's usual spot.
Now that the spaceship was down, craft were again circling and descending, while several on the flight line were moving slowly toward the live deck for takeoff.
Kara was muttering about dinnertime coming right up and she'd been hoping to get a chance to—
But Theo caught sight of yos'Senchul and the Commander, walking out toward the strip from Ops, carrying on a quick hand-talk.
Certified routing/newest off-limits/warning zones for graduates/direct and secure was the gist of yos'Senchul's communications while the Commander's were more like Noisy obvious unscheduled bad-form non-orbit show-off.
Theo looked away, feeling a bit as if she'd eavesdropped on one of Kamele and Father's private conversations. Likely if she hadn't spent so much time with yos'Senchul she wouldn't have been able to read . . .
"Theo, look, come on, they've got it settled. Let's go see!"
Kara grabbed her by the hand enthusiastically, tugging and not letting go until Theo picked up speed and together they outran most of the team to the orange-chained stanchions.
The ship gleamed in front and overhead, warmth still radiating into the cooling evening, several tiny beacon lights having taken over the duty of the flight lights. Theo could see herself in the fuselage where it bulged to become wings, she could see Kara too, and the Commander and yos'Senchul standing with a small group of seniors dressed with their formals and wings close behind.
"Look at the size of this thing," a pilot used to Star Kings said, and Theo blurted out, "This is so tiny! It could fit in a cruise ship ballroom!"
That started a heated discussion, and quotes of cubes and relative engine power and, "I've sat jump seat on something bigger than this . . ."
Theo basked in the glow of the ship. Yes, this is it. Something like this. She felt as if her pores absorbed the moment and her hands already knew the need to fly such a thing.
The Ops guy came out to the stanchions, comm in his hand, and then opened the gate for the Commander.
"Sorry," he said, "the tug crew forgot this is Liaden, so the ground hatch is on the other—"
yos'Senchul waved him away with a salute and hand-sign, leading the small contingent to the proper side of the ship, just as there came a hiss, then a whir that must have been the hatch opening.
The strip-side crowd quieted as the gangway slid almost all the way to the ground, and then there was hand-shaking and bows, all seen on the other side of the ship. Two of the seniors became honor guard to the ship, flanking the gangway. The others fell in behind the Commander and yos'Senchul and the pilot with his rakish hat, as they walked back toward the stanchions.
"Theo—what?" Kara whispered at her, then jammed an elbow into her side.