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Fledgling
...A Liaden Universe® Adventure
by
Sharon Lee and Steve Miller
...the story of Theo Waitley and how she came to have a "kind of complicated" problem to lay before the delm of Korval.
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Chapter
Two
"Your room's just down the hall." Kamele
waved vaguely to the right. "Why don't you take your things in
and get settled? I've sent out for dinner -- our first meal in
our new apartment! An inauguration!"
Theo, closet and cube in tow, looked around the
tiny, severely squared receiving parlor. The walls were white and
smooth -- ceramic, like the whole rest of the Wall -- and there were
three plastic chairs in a semi-circle around a battered table that
looked like it might actually be wood. The smooth white floor was
partially covered with a rug Theo had last seen rolled up in the
storage bin at ...home. Kamele had probably intended it to soften
the space, but the faded yellow and red flowers only looked sad.
"Theo?" Her mother's voice had that bright,
brittle quality that meant she was 'way too tired and stressed
out. Not a good time to ask if the joke was over and could they
could go home now.
"Sorry." Theo took a deep breath and got a
firmer grip on the leads of her luggage. "I'll just go set up the
closet."
Kamele gave her a too-fast smile and nodded. "I'll call you when dinner gets here."
"Great," Theo said, trying not to sound as worried
as she felt. She steered her stuff carefully across the old rug
and down the narrow hallway. When Kamele got into overdrive at
home -- which she did at least once a semester -- Father would sit her
down in the common room, bring her a glass of wine, and talk to her --
about nothing, really. The weather. The cats. The
fishing rod he'd seen in Nonactown. Theo wasn't sure if it was
the wine, or Father's voice, or the dimness and the warm, flowery
breeze only he could coax from the ambiset that did the trick, but
after an hour of that treatment, all the bright, strained energy melted
away and Kamele would fall asleep.
Theo wondered if there was any wine in the apartment
-- and then forgot about it as the door slid back to reveal her
so-called "room."
The desk was directly across from the door, molded
out of the wall, three short shelves above it, and two drawers
below. Next to it was the bed, decently folded up at the moment,
which was a good thing, Theo thought darkly, or else she wouldn't have
fit inside the room, never mind her stuff.
She left the closet in the open doorway and gingerly
maneuvered the cube into the corner to the right of the door,
where it would be out of the way -- more or less -- dumped her pack on
the floor beside it, and took off her shoes. Then she turned to
survey the situation.
On inspection, there was only one possible place for
the closet -- the end wall to the left of the desk. Biting her
lip, she shifted the folded-up closet back and forth until she had the
right angle of entry, which took more time than it should have, between
the narrow hall and the narrow doorway. Eventually, though, she
got the thing into the room and positioned against the wall. She
reached to the controls -- and hesitated, re-assessing the available
space by eye.
Yes, she decided, again. The closet would fit.
Just.
While the closet expanded, she went over to the
desk, approving the neatly labeled connectors. She could hook up
her school book, no problem; there was a socket for her mumu, and an
extra, labeled "research."
Theo frowned. At home, she'd done her research
through the school book connection. She wondered if there were
different protocols inside the Wall residences. A quick search of
the drawers, though, failed to turn up either hard-copy instructions or
an official gold infoslip. Well, then, she'd just have to ask the
Concierge, when she jacked in her school book.
She turned to look at her pack, sitting slumped on
the slick white floor next to the still-sealed cube, and frowned.
Her solos were done; she'd made sure to finish them early, so she'd
have time to pack, or -- if Father had taken her side, which, in
retrospect, she should've known he wouldn't -- time to cook dinner and
do a little recreational reading afterward.
"I'll get it tomorrow," she said to the room at
large. "If it was that important, they would've left the instructions
out where people could find them."
From the left came a bump, a wheeze and a ping!,
which was the closet's way of announcing that it was accessible,
now. Theo went over to inspect, shaking her head. It fit,
all right. Both ends were as tight against the corners as they
could be.
"If I get another sweater, I'll have to keep it in
the desk," she said, and sighed sharply. She was used to talking
to whichever cat happened to be in her room -- lately, that had
been Coyster, though Mandrin, Father's white-and-black, sometimes
came by for a visit. Here, though, she was alone, and it seemed
somehow much weirder to be talking to herself than to a cat.
Chaos! Her mentor already thought it was weird that she talked to cats.
"Grow up, Theo," she muttered -- and bit her lip.
She turned, skidding slightly on the slick floor,
and wished she'd had the foresight to bring a rug. Maybe she
could buy one at the co-op tomorrow. She had plenty of credit on
her card; and if she could find one cheap enough, she wouldn't even
have to have her mother's countersig. Now that she was fourteen,
she could spend up to fifty credits on her own sig, much better than
when she'd been a kid and had to have Kamele's sig every time she
wanted to buy a fruit bar, or --
A gong went off, loudly. Theo jumped and spun,
stocking feet slipping on the slick floor. Had she really spent
that long getting the room set up? She twisted, managing to stay
upright more by luck than intent, and by the time she was oriented
again, Kamele was calling her.
"Theo! Dinner's here!"
They ate at the meal bar in an alcove between the
common room and the shuttered kitchen, teetering on tall stools in the
dim, directionless light. Kamele had ordered ginger soy noodles
and plum soup, with juice for Theo and coffee for herself. Ginger
soy noodles being one of Theo's favorite meals, her portion was quickly
gone, and the plum soup, too, both reduced to smears of sauce at the
bottom of the disposable bowls. She sat then, her hands tucked
around her cup, recruiting, as Father put it, her courage.
Across from her, Kamele had eaten a few ginger
noodles, and given the soup a long, thoughtful look. Mostly, she
was drinking coffee, her movements sharp and not quite steady.
Theo thought again about wine, but didn't quite know how to ask if
there was any in-house, and if it might be a good idea for Kamele to
have some.
She didn't quite know how to ask the other question
on the edge of her tongue, either -- and she did know that this was not
the optimum time for asking questions, with Kamele trembling on the
edge of a crash. She was in a bind, though. If she didn't
ask now, she'd have to ask tomorrow, and Kamele would be perfectly
right to point out that the question couldn't have been so very
important, since she'd waited so long to ask it.
Her mother had another few noodles, and a large swallow of coffee. Theo took a hard breath.
"Kamele?"
Over-bright blue eyes focused on her face. "Yes, Theo?"
"I'd like to learn the reason why we've moved
here." There, she thought. That sounded calm and
non-judgmental.
The bright gaze dropped. Kamele used her hashi to poke at the noodles in her bowl.
"We've moved here so I can do my work," she said.
Theo blinked, thinking of the high-end access available in Father's house.
"You can work from home," she blurted, "and a lot
more comfortably, too! Kamele, your office at home is bigger than
this whole apart--"
"Precisely." Her mother was looking at her
again, cheeks flushed, and mouth tight. "A true scholar must
learn to value her work above all else. Living in Professor
Kiladi's house, we have grown...accustomed to certain luxuries that are
not necessary for -- and indeed may be inimical to -- the process of
orderly and analytical thought."
"Kamele --"
"I am not done answering your question yet, Theo,"
her mother said coolly. "Or have you decided that you don't wish
to learn, after all?"
Oops. Theo bent her head. "I asked the
question," she said quietly, like the well-brought-up child of an
academic from a family of academics; "I will value the insights gained
from your answer."
There was silence while Kamele drank more coffee, then pushed her uneaten meal to one side.
"Research, study, and teaching are only
three-quarters of what a scholar must do in order to ...become
prominent in her field," she said eventually. "A scholar must
have contacts, allies; colleagues who support her work and whose work
she supports in return. These associations cannot be built, or
strengthened, by living retired in the suburbs. We need to be
here, at the intellectual heart of the planet, in order to make the
contacts I need to... The contacts I will need to further
my career."
Theo opened her mouth, and hastily raised her cup for a swallow of juice.
"I've gotten out of touch," Kamele said,
slowly. "And it's cost me. Cost us all. We can recover, of
course. With work. Hard work." She looked up, bright
eyes fierce. "And it's work that must be done here."
She might have seen Theo staring, because she smiled
suddenly -- a real smile, tired as it was. "So, we will take up
the professorial lifestyle, as our mothers and grandmothers have done
before us. It will be an adventure, won't it, Theo?"
Applying Father's definition of an adventure being a
series of unlooked for and uncomfortable events, Theo supposed it would
be.
She cleared her throat, suddenly wanting to be by
herself to think, even in that nasty little den of a room.
Pushing back from the table, she barely remembered to say, "Thank you
for sharing your thoughts, Kamele."
"Of course," her mother said. "You're not a
child anymore, Theo. It's time you began to ask these questions
and plan how you'll manage your own career." She waved an
unsteady hand.
"I'll deal with the clean-up. Go and get your rest. Tomorrow's a school day."
Like she didn't know that, Theo thought, but she
slid off the stool without any other comment than, "Good-night, Kamele."
"Good-night, daughter," her mother murmured, but she
was looking down at the tabletop, her brows drawn together in a frown.
The 'fresher was at the end of the hall. Theo
showered and returned to her room, closing the door and unfolding the
bed. It didn't take up quite as much room as she had feared,
which was a blessing in a space where centimeters mattered.
Having put the bed down, though, she didn't
immediately retire. The glare off the floor and walls set her
teeth on edge. She went over to the desk to check the
ambiset. If she could get some pictures -- or at least some color
-- into the walls; put a mosaic into the floor -- she thought she'd
feel less jittery. And it would make the place seem more like
home, cramped and sterile as it was.
Except -- there was no ambiset to be found.
Theo went out into the hall, but there was no ambiset there,
either. She actually compressed the closet, thinking that she
must have placed it in front of the control center -- but the only
thing behind was more featureless, white wall.
"I do not believe this," she said loudly, her voice
sliding off the walls and falling into the glare. She ran her
hands through her hair and stared around the tiny room, even casting a
not-exactly-hopeful look at the ceiling.
No ambiset.
"And this is supposed to focus my mind?" Theo asked the air.
The air didn't bother to answer.
All right. She took a deep breath. At
least she knew what to do to about the jitters. She needed some
handwork, that was all. Her needles and thread were in the
cube. She'd lay down a couple lines of lace. In fact, she
needed to work out the idea she had about making a lace flower like the
new ones Father had planted in their garden.
She knelt by the cube, unsnapped it and lifted the
lid, looking down into a dark maw lined with numerous needle-sharp
teeth.
"Hey!" She dropped the top, caught it before
it hit the floor and lay it gently down. Inside the cube, Coyster
yawned again.
Theo sat back on her heels and shook her head, feeling the grin pulling her mouth wide.
"You're going to get me in so much trouble," she said.
Coyster shook out a dainty white paw and began to wash his face.
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Things you should know
Fledgling in serialized format is a draft. This
means it may bear little or no resemblance to a final published novel,
should there ever be one. It may be perfect, word for word (though
experience tells us this is not the way the smart money should bet). What we are providing is a rare opportunity to observe the writing process.
We don't know how many chapters there will be. We're free-form writers,
and while we do have a working outline, it is (1) vague, and (2)
subject to change without notice.
What are the rules?
What you can do:
1. Read the posted chapters free of charge
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What you can't do:
1. Copy the work and sell it. Fledgling is copyright by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller. In addition, Liaden
Universe® is a registered trademark. That means the universe, the
characters, the story and the right to sell it belong to Sharon Lee and
Steve Miller.
Who are we?
Sharon Lee
and Steve Miller are the authors of a dozen collaborative science
fiction novels, and many short stories, largely set in the Liaden
Universe®. For more information about Lee and Miller and their work,
drop by the Liaden Universe® website.
Base page created December 1, 2006 by Sharon Lee
Chapter updated January 29, 2007
technical revision posted January 31, 2007
Update March 15, 2008, 12:38 p.m. EDT
copyright © 2006-2007 by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller
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