"Nothing to declare?"
"Bored" didn't begin to describe the attitude of the pre-boarding customs monitor. Theo couldn't exactly blame her, since her job was to watch the luggage go by her on a belt. She did touch some bags lightly with a wand; others, she didn't touch at all, but merely stared at the scans set into the table before her.
Some bags, she pulled off the belt and inspected minutely.
Kamele's bag went through without a question. She nodded at Theo and moved to the slideway to the boarding lounge as her luggage went elsewhere. Theo breathed a sigh of relief. They hadn't had a chance yet to talk in private, but she was glad to see that Kamele was calming down. She'd been jittery until the bus had gotten to the Visitors' Center, and had clutched Theo's hand tight while they waited in line for the shuttle. Now, though, it looked like Theo was going to get a little space to breathe.
"Shielding on this, sir?" the monitor asked Professor Crowley.
"Vacuum and particle safe," he admitted, raising his hands. "It's been with me since my first trip to high camp when I was an undergraduate. We . . ."
But the monitor was bored again. She used the wand, and passed the old bag on.
"Nothing to declare?"
A pause.
"Nothing to declare, Pilot?"
That tone more than the words grabbed Theo's attention—she hadn't realized that Professor Crowley's luggage was through already; she'd been so busy thinking about Kamele and what could've happened—and there was the Professor, already on the slideway.
"Nothing to declare," Theo assured the monitor.
The woman glanced down at her read-outs, stiffened and directed a frown at Theo.
"Please open."
Theo raised her glance to the ceiling and sighed.
"The job must get done," the woman said, almost daring a reply . . .
Theo worked the dual combo and opened the duffel, the woman spread it half open on the counter and wanded it. When the wand beeped she looked not at all startled, but reached into the neatly rolled and folded clothes, pushed aside the traveling school book in its protective envelope, and pulled out the bowli ball.
"That's mine," Theo began—
"Yes, Pilot, but it is not properly shielded." The monitor reached below the counter and pulled out a silver bag, which she passed to Theo. "If you please, Pilot."
Biting her lip, feeling the line growing long behind her, Theo slipped the ball into the bag and sealed it.
"Thank you," the monitor said. "Please close your bag."
She did so, hastily. The woman produced a green card like the one Theo wore on her jacket and slapped it on the duffel's side.
"The tag marks this out as a pilot's luggage," she said. "You may enter the passenger lounge at will. The Pilots' Lounge on level three is reserved for active pilots just in or out, and their guests, please don't strain the regs. Have a pleasant journey."
She turned aside and Theo hurried away, biting her lip.
"Anything to declare?" the monitor asked the next passenger.
"Kamele, I'd like to go for a walk," Theo said. "Just around the duty-free. I—"
Her mother glanced up from the datapad she'd been studying and looked around the lounge. It was, in Theo's opinion, a boring space, mostly full of chairs, infoscreens, and nervous people. Beyond it, the Concourse glittered; the stuff in the shops was 'way too expensive, she knew, just like on Vashtara, but it was interesting to look in the windows.
"I think we could both use a walk," Kamele said, slipping the 'pad away. "If you'd care for some company?"
Theo thought about being annoyed. Then she remembered how upset Kamele had been, and smiled.
"Company would be good," she said.
They'd window-shopped half of one long side of the duty-free shops, taking their time, and pointing out especially absurd prices to each other. Theo's recollection had been wrong; the duty-free shops on Melchiza Station charged even more for everyday items than the shops aboard Vashtara.
She let Kamele get a window ahead of her while she lingered over a display of "athletic equipment," including foam-core boomerangs, ping-pong paddles, and—there! Nestled in back among a row of ordinary throwing spheres was a bowli ball. Theo tapped the window for more information, and gasped when the price came up.
Hastily, she tapped the pop-up away, and shook her head. It was a good thing Kamele didn't know how much the bowli ball had cost, or she'd have never let Theo keep it. 'Course, Kamele thought bowli balls were toys.
Shaking her head, Theo moved on, dancing aside as a woman in a leather jacket came out of the athletic equipment store.
"Sorry!" The woman said, shaking black hair out of her face.
"Phobai!" Theo cried gladly.
The pilot grinned. "Theo! Hey, look at that!" She extended a hand and stroked the green badge. "Fast work."
"They even call students 'pilot' at the Transit School," Theo said, face heating.
"No," Phobai said, "they only call some students pilot in the Transit School." She touched Theo's cheek lightly. "Get into a fight?"
"No, a bowli ball game."
"Hah! Did you drop it?"
" 'Course not!"
Phobai laughed.
"Theo?" Kamele had noticed she was gone. Theo grabbed Phobai's hand and turned her around.
"Phobai, this is my mother, Kamele Waitley. Kamele, this is Phobai Murchinson, she's one of the pilots on Vashtara. We played bowli ball together and practiced dance—"
"And a fine dancer she is, your Theo!" Phobai said with a grin. She held out her hand and Kamele took it with a smile.
"I'm always glad to meet Theo's friends—and her teachers!" she said.
"Not a teacher; Theo was born knowing the moves. All I do is remind her." She turned to Theo. "Do you want in on bowli ball? Cordrey's on opposite shift this first leg, but we've got Len, Joadin, and Truitt for sure, and maybe Valince and Jorj. You're welcome to play."
"I'd like that," Theo said. "Text me the time and room?" She bit her lip, realizing that she should have asked before—but a glance to the side showed Kamele smiling softly.
"Sure," Phobai said to Theo. "Are you shopping? Let's walk together. I've got some other things to pick up before they call crew back."
The three of them turned and walked down the row of shops, Theo making sure that the walk-crowders didn't push Kamele. Phobai looked at her from beneath her black lashes.
"Taking up some extra space, aren't you?"
Theo blinked, remembering Initha's swagger.
"Am I?" she asked, stricken. "I just—"
"Nothing wrong with it," Phobai said quickly. "It's just a new look for you. You're right, too; in this crowd you've got to walk wide or get crushed! Here's my next stop, and then I've got to run for the gate." She smiled. "Professor Waitley, it was good to meet you. Theo—I'll see you soon!"
She vanished into a shop displaying three diaphanous articles—lingerie, Theo thought, though with a bewildering amount of laces and other fasteners—
"Let's walk over this way," Kamele said, interrupting any further study of the shop's display. "I'd like to check the departure times."
Theo shook her head, trying to get her hair out of her eyes. Something about the change in pressure in the glass airlocks, or maybe it was the change in air source. The breeze had been sudden and cold; likely it was used to help keep the grounder dirt and bugs someplace other than in the station's air supply.
Now that she could see again, she was faced with a wall of chronometers keeping a dozen times, just like on Vashtara, though Melchiza local time was displayed where Vashtara had displayed Standard Time.
Underneath the clocks were infoscreens displaying the names and departure/arrival times of incoming and outgoing ships. Vashtara was comfortably listed right next to Melchiza Station; the notes stating that it was still debarking passengers to other lounges. Phobai must've gotten off-ship as soon as it docked, Theo thought.
According to the 'screen, they'd be boarding around the time that Theo had gotten used to thinking of as lunch time. She reached to her jacket pocket, where her three days' eating money rode, and said a word she'd heard Win Ton mutter upon certain occasions.
"What is it?" Kamele asked, as ignorant of the meaning of the word as Theo was, and happily without the benefit of its use in context.
"I've still got the datapad with my math remedials!" She pulled it out of her pocket.
"We must return it," Kamele said briskly and looked around her. "There!" She pointed to a sign that said Shuttles and Private. "We'll give it to the shuttle captain; he can take it back to the Visitors' Center the next time he has a fare, and the Visitors' Center can send it back to the Transit School."
It certainly sounded like a good plan. Theo fell in beside Kamele.
The glitter and noise of the shopping district quickly disappeared. Also, the warmth. Theo was glad of her jacket and wished she'd brought an extra sweater. They passed a couple of people in coveralls with "Melchiza Station" stenciled on the breast, and a few pilots, leather jackets fastened close.
The corridor curved; and ahead of them were two more people. A male pilot, pulling luggage or last-minute stores, walking slowly with someone who was patently not a pilot. Her hair was slightly askew and she walked uncertainly, like she'd wandered into a change zone once and did not ever wish to repeat the experience.
The pilot had one hand around the woman's arm, urging her on. He wasn't wearing a leather jacket, but a fringed one, like—
Theo blinked.
Clyburn isn't a pilot! she thought, and looked again.
Gone were the mincing steps and swaying hips, traded in for a pilot's smooth stride.
"What are they doing here?" Kamele exclaimed, and rushed forward, her voice sharp.
"Orkan Hafley, there's a review board waiting for you on Delgado!"
Clyburn dropped Professor Hafley's arm and spun, pilot fast, green tag shining through the fringe. The expression on his face reminded Theo of Fruma, right before he had thrown the bowli ball at her.
"Go away, Kamele," he said, his hand going inside his jacket.
Theo jumped.
She landed between Clyburn and Kamele, her hands out in defensive mode, her feet set firm.
"Don't!" she snapped.
Clyburn blinked, his hand moved—
"Theo!" Kamele cried, putting a hand on her shoulder. Theo twisted, but her balance was destroyed—and Clyburn was running, and Professor Hafley with him, as best she could, suitcase clattering after.
"Stop!" Kamele cried.
Theo grabbed her arm. "Let them go!" she shouted.
Her mother turned and stared. "Let them go? Theo, Chair Hafley has committed an ethics violation that endangers the entire university. She must come up before the review—"
"He was going to—to throw something at you!" Theo interrupted. "He was going to hurt you!"
Kamele blinked. "Surely not," she said, but her voice was uncertain.
Theo sighed.
"Let's get back to the main hall," she said. "You need to talk to your team."
* * *
The child was admirably light of foot, and fleet, besides. Jen Sar followed at a distance, as an old man might, though he dared to pause only once, where the hall was straight for a length that gave him some hope of catching her again. He leaned lightly against the wall and reached into his pocket, bringing forth a silken handkerchief, which he touched to his temples and upper lip before letting it fall negligently to the floor in his haste to catch up his guide.
She kept scrupulously to the back halls and the service corridors. Possibly, the symbol-bearer had meant thereby to confuse him; possibly, it was the only route the child knew. In neither case did their direction elude him.
That their final destination must lie in the Administration Tower was certain; such a scheme as they had uncovered would need an administrator in it, and a librarian, too. He hardly thought it could be more than two, and then the secret would have to be sealed with fear as well as bribery.
His guide pushed the button to summon a lift, lenses glinting as she turned her head away.
Jen Sar sighed lightly. It would, of course, be most elegantly simple, to deliver him into the midst of the conspirators, and let them each make of the other what they might. The symbol-bearer being no fool, this was doubtless precisely her intention.
It would, he thought, be interesting to see how that played out.