Now that she had decided, now that all of her problems seemed to be pointing in the same direction, she wanted to lift, to fly, to be doing something.
She stood.
"Just a moment, Pilot; Dulsey will be here—"
"That's fine," she interrupted. "If the ship will fly, I'll fly it."
She picked up the game piece, and flipped it. It snugged into her hand like a norbear.
"The usual rules apply," she said. "Let's go."
SALTATION
Forty-ONE
Arin's Toss
Volmer
The Book of Ships worknet description of Arin's Toss, out of Bluestone, Waymart, called it
an excellent example of the early trade-merge ship, with the courier-weight vessel built on Terran proportions, denominated and calibrated with Terran mensuration, and reminiscent of the family-vessel forbears it descended from. The ship has been surveyed as recently as Standard Year 1389, when its single classic Class Three mount point was replaced with a more modern Class Two mount during refitting that included installation of a dual core drive to replace what was claimed to be an original Terran Sentry-Overbrook.
Reading about it, though, was nothing like being there. Theo had in hand already the hard-copy printout and three reader versions of the ship's details, down to replacement part numbers, lists of shops that had worked on it in the last century, and the promised pinbeam info as well.
They'd toured the ship first, inspecting it externally on the way in as Dulsey piloted the minishuttle belonging to Crystal Energy Consultants.
For the initial runthrough, Theo sat second seat, Dulsey demonstrating the few nonstandard board-set items the antique retained with the ship quiet. Some of the surfaces were polished metal, some were clearly refits, but the entirety made the ships she trained on at the academy look old and grubby, and Primadonna just a little . . . dowdy.
Theo frowned, the memory of her last visit to Primadonna was still uncomfortable. Rig had taken her comm, her key and her news of a ship with a wide grin, and the advice to "fly her like she's part of you, Pilot Theo, because that's what she'll be, so soon it'll make your head spin!"
Mayko . . . had not been pleased. She demanded to know who had hired her, and how she felt, after Hugglelans had taken her aboard and trained her, to be signing with another company. Until Rig told her to put it in a can, that was, and Theo was left to pack in peace.
Arin's Toss, though—They did a full run to Jump sequence with the board on neutral and Theo sitting second; then brought it down to quiet again. Theo took over, reset the board to zero and did the entire sequence again, adjusting toggle strengths and seating and light angles and straps to things that would be comfortable to her.
The intro time flew by; and on the morrow Theo would—
GAWGAWGAW.
Theo snatched for the comm—but it wasn't lit! She looked to Dulsey, who pointed.
Right, she thought. Pinbeam.
"Test message?"
Dulsey's hands were eloquent: Live message get.
Theo signed accept and pressed the read now button, glad to see open text in Terran.
++Request/require immediate shipment pallet fifteen++new local conditions++arrive shields up++doubled terms arrive on-before Day 201 Standard 1393++haste++purple44+arrival Day 203 Standard 1393/later unacceptable++listening++
Theo glanced to the other pilot, surprised to see reaction on that normally serene face. Dulsey brought the second board live just in time to catch an incoming comm call which she flashed to the open speaker. Uncle's voice was clear.
"Hello, Arin's Toss. We'll have to rendezvous for a transfer; are systems good there?"
Dulsey looked to Theo, answered, "We have done first sequencing and introduction. There should be a dozen more hours or longer—"
"You can do the math; we are attempting a very finite deadline on a unique item."
"Waitley, can you get the Toss to—that would be Solcintra, Liad, planetside port by darkest night, day two-oh-one, if we can get Toss loaded?"
For a moment Theo flashed on stuffing the Slipper on the plateau; her hands running the board for fine coordinates.
"There's some leeway," Uncle continued. "Darkest quarter of the morning before dawn is client preference."
"Yes," Theo said, absolutely certain. "Yes, if the ship's up to spec and we can load within the next two orbits, I can make delivery. If there's food on board. But it'll have to be five Jumps."
There was a pause and Uncle's voice came through with a hint of something besides calm control.
"I'm bribing the Tower now and will lift soonest. Get clear of the station and intercept. Dulsey, you'll play tug."
"Waitley, I don't think there's any coffee on board. You'll have to do with whatever tea is in the stasis tins."
Theo looked to Dulsey. Shrugged. Replied:
"I'll manage."
In the middle of the third Jump—the longest one—Theo broke open the second stasis tin, not because she was out of tea in the first tin, but because she'd never had Supa Oong Dark before and had been told it was the best tea in the universe . . . from someone who'd lived on the planet where it was grown.
She could use something right now, all things considered, because she'd fudged her figures slightly and the recalculations were showing that she'd need a really good run-in from Jump if she was to make the schedule. That the Toss was equal to it, she had no doubt, having already developed a deep respect for the abilities and heart of her vessel. That the pilot was equal—
"Well," she said, "you'll just have to be."
She laughed, and wondered if this was why Tranza had taken up singing: to avoid talking to himself.
Theory is that any single Jump is physiologically neutral. Practice said that a single Jump was physiologically neutral. Timing was everything, after all, and there needed, for some reason, to be some time between the end of one Jump and the start of the next else . . . else the body was not entirely recovered from the experience. Time being measured in heartbeats or orbits or—
Third Jump ended, and Arin's Toss was real again, really here, really able to be seen. Theo checked the prefed coordinates, the destination coordinates, caught the gross arrival coords, compared them, corrected them, checked herself twice, had the Toss check itself. Satisfied, she pressed the go-button, throwing her ship into the fourth Jump—and reached for some tea.
Jump glare faded and she'd recalled the rules: she arrived with shields up and all channels open, and with the understanding that purple44 specified a night landing and she checked local time, throwing herself into the First Seat with a will and watching the time count down toward dawn someplace she'd never been.
Coming in at close to two gravity acceleration was tiring, but not as bad as missing the deadline.
There were things to see though, and she took feeds from the planet, mighty Liad itself.
Of ships, there were many she'd never seen before: mining ships, and Clutch asteroids and Juntavas ships openly advertising their affiliation. There were Scout ships and there the silhouette, so long studied: Dutiful Passage!