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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 Seventeen
Theo jumped out of the elevator at the Reked Level,
following the blue lines marked 'Education' to the right, while most of
her fellow passengers went left, pacing the glittery orange sparkles to
'Recreation.'
The ship was so big! She'd looked Breakfast
All Year and the Pet Library up on the ship map – and taken a quick
glance at the info-page for the library, too. Sadly, there were
no cats listed, though the entry did say that the kind and number of
creatures on loan was subject to change. She'd been about to look
up norbears when the Tutor in the traveling school book noticed that
she had finished the math solo and the self-test and called her
attention to the next solo in series. That one had been a little
harder, and the Tutor had insisted that she finish the self-test for
it, too. She'd argued that it would make her late, but the Tutor
had simply pointed out that she could have completed both assignments
with moments to spare, if she hadn't stopped to do Unauthorized
Research during Class Time.
The worst of that was that she'd probably get
a Time Management lecture from Kamele later on. If she hurried,
she'd thought she'd still be on time to meet Win Ton --
But the ship was so big! The belts – the few
that were in service – moved slow, and none of the other passengers
seemed to be in a hurry. They ambled from one side of the main
promenade to the other, peering into shop windows, playing with the
auto-vend units, stopping dead in the center of the walkway to talk to
each other...
She'd never seen so many adults with nothing to do!
Theo stretched her legs – not running; that would be
antisocial – but definitely walking fast. She outstripped the
eight passengers who had turned to follow the Ed lines with her – and
there it was! Directly ahead the ID space above a store front
shimmered, displaying for a moment a large yellow cup with steam rising
from it. The cup faded, to be replaced by the words, Breakfast All Year.
A subdued and genteel gong sounded down the corridor, counting five.
"Chaos!" Theo did run the last few steps
across the hall, dodging the group of chatting adults blocking the
entrance – and froze just inside, stomach sinking.
I'll never find him in this! she thought dismally.
The 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 a
coffee cup.
Inside a full-to-overflowing coffee cup.
Theo strained high on her toes. She was 'way
too short to be easily seen from the crowded floor, but Win Ton – if he
hadn't already left for the Pet Library – would surely be looking for –
"There you are – and prompt, as well!" His
voice was so close that she jumped, a little. She took a breath
and settled slowly flat-footed before turning her head to look at him.
"Late, you mean," she said.
"Arrived on the fifth gong," he retorted. "I
insist that this is on time – and well done, indeed, if you navigated
the public halls."
"Are there – private halls?" Theo asked,
diverted, and Win Ton brought the tips of his fingers sharply against
his temple.
"Bah! Forgive me, 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 on an unpopular
level. The manager must have noticed the situation, as well, for
what should come over the public band early in the shift but a
discussion of this little-known treasure of our ship --" He
flicked his fingers at the crowded interior. "With the result you
see."
"You couldn't have known," Theo said. "But I am glad you saw me..."
"How could I miss you, Theo Waitley?" he asked, with a smile.
"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 may need to continue our conversation as
we walk, if we are to arrive at the lecture on time."
"Oh!" She turned with him. The noisy group was
still blocking the doorway, but Win Ton threaded his way effortlessly
through the blockade. Following, Theo wondered if he would teach
her how to do that.
"What about the private halls?" she asked, once they were clear and able to walk side-by-side.
Win Ton sighed. "I see that I must reveal
all. For some, there are private ways – at some times. Most
usually, they are less crowded and more direct, being less concerned
with the – the --" He turned and swept his arm out in a grand
gesture that seemed to include the entire interior of the ship – "art
of space." He grinned at her. "Or the enticement of
tourists."
Whatever, Theo thought, the 'art of space' was. She smiled at him.
"You were late to dinner because you went by the
back ways," she guessed, remembering his rumbled hair, "and they turned
out to be crowded."
"My shame proceeds me," Win Ton said
mournfully. "And as if this were not blow enough, what must my
captain do but declare me a passenger upon this ship, and doom
me to the public ways." He looked down at himself mournfully, and
Theo saw that he was wearing a plain blue jersey and slacks.
"Your jacket let you get into the back
hallways?" she asked. The idea of using less crowded, more
direct ways had a certain appeal, and surely, she thought, among all
those stores on the Grand Promenade there ought to be one that would have a leather jacket in her size.
"In some measure," Win Ton said slowly, "the jacket
allowed me into the private ways. Be aware, though, my friend,
that there is more to the jacket than may at first be seen."
Theo blinked. "What --" she began, but Win Ton
had turned away, angling toward a wall mounted with a dozen or more
screens, each showing a different animal.
"The Pet Library!" Win Ton said. "Now we shall see wonders, Theo Waitley!"
* * *
Ella ben Suzan leaned back in her chair and rubbed
her hands over her face as if that would clear the turmoil she
faced. It did not, she told herself forcefully, bear
thinking on what unsubtle means Kamele had employed to secure the
concessions she had sought from Admin. Far better to dwell on the
happy outcome – Ella named TempChair of EdHist, and Hafley forced to
lend her countenance to the Research Team.
True, these things had not come without price.
There was, for instance, the annoying but easily led Jon Fu elevated to
TempSubChair. Well, Ella thought, she could deal with Jon Fu;
hadn't she been doing it for years?
And, there was Theo's chaos blessed school book, the
Serpent of Knowledge, and the so-called research wire into Flandin's
old apartment.
Ella was no Systems Wizard, but she was a highly
competent researcher. She'd set the Serpent a little problem, in
her own microfield of expertise, and left it to swallow its own tail,
while she went on her newly frantic round of classes, meetings,
meetings and class.
By the time she returned to her office, all-nighter
coffee and a chocolate-covered sweet roll balanced precariously in one
hand, there was a list of cites and summaries glowing on the
screen.
Three of which were completely unfamiliar to her.
* * *
"Remember that norbears are natural empaths.
Each one is therefore attuned to a slightly different – let us call it
'music'. It is important, as when in the presence of any base
creature, to display no fear, and to hold oneself aloof, allowing the
animal to approach as it will." There was a slight pause while
the lecturer – an extremely fit man with black tipped yellow hair who
Theo thought looked more like a Leisure and Recreation instructor than
a librarian – looked around at the six people out of all the busy mob
aboard Vashtara who had come to learn about norbears.
The area – room was far too quaint a word for the
airy and multi-colored place they stood in – flowed into distinct
environmental sections differentiated by lighting, color, and floor
covering as well as by the vegetation visible in the interiors of those
sections. Theo heard Win Ton say approvingly, “Twelve!” without
explaining, and then counted the sections – he had quick eyes!
Between those sections and the public were
portals of varying transparency and shades. They stood in front of one
with a nearly clear door, which made the interior's inviting greens and
blues appear just a bit ragged.
"It may be that there will be one or two among you
who will not be approached. This merely means that an animal able
to hear your particular song was not present. So," he opened the
gate to the greeting area and waved them through.
Theo quickly slipped 'round the edge of the
enclosure and went down on one knee with her back against a thicket of
skinny boughs. The floor didn't merely look ragged from the
outside, it looked that way inside too – and soft and springy as
well. With a start she realized that this wasn't a resilient
flooring like she might find on the floor of gymnasium. She was
standing on plants! They were vines or lichens all woven together to
form a comforting and sort of crinkly habitat.
The norbears – nine plump, short-furred
mammals – were on the other side of the enclosure, some half-buried in
the floor-stuff, some lolling about on top, all seeming oblivious
to presence of humans in their space, going about what the lecture had
told them was typical norbear business – eating, wrestling, grooming,
and sleeping.
Except, Theo thought, as she watched them, there
wasn't much sleeping going on. Oh, there were roly-poly recumbent
bodies nestled into the vines, eyes closed while rounded ears twitched
and pivoted, tracking soft footsteps – or maybe tracking the new songs,
measuring each against secret norbear standards.
Which was remarkably cat-like behavior for creatures that looked so very, very different from cats...
Suddenly, there was a flurry, a rustle of
vegetation, and one of the norbears was on the move, rocking from side
to side as it made its way across the enclosure, straight for the
little boy with the red hair who had been cranky and complaining during
the lecture.
Not catlike at all, Theo thought critically.
There was no mystery about the approach, no glancing over a shoulder,
or sitting down to groom – no suspense. Instead, it
bumbled merrily onward until it had run its round head practically into
the boy's knee. The child gave a shout of laughter, and promptly
sat down in the blue-green expanse, gathering the norbear into
his arms.
As if that had been a signal, the rest of the
norbears were abruptly up, and fairly charging the gathered
humans. Theo was bumped by a white norbear with a brown spot on
its spine. She reached down to pet it, discovering that the
rough-looking pelt wasn't rough at all, but plush against her skin,
while --
"It's purring!" she exclaimed, glancing over to see
Win Ton on his knees, a black norbear snuggled against his hip.
He placed his hand gently against the charcoal fur and smiled.
"Is this catlike, then?" he asked, softly, as
his friend suddenly sat up on its hind legs and grabbed at his sleeve
with a tiny hand.
"Not quite," Theo said. "The resonance is – it's like I'm hearing half the sound inside my head!"
"Ah. That will perhaps be the so-called 'natural empathy' at work?"
"You mean, since they can't hear on – on every frequency..."
"Precisely! It may be reciprocal. In fact, must be reciprocal. Is it not the same with the kanadramliz?"
"With the –" Theo began, and blinked,
interrupted by the sudden arrival of a second, much skinnier – maybe
younger? -- norbear, who charged up her knee, grabbed onto the front of
her coveralls with its tiny hands and began to climb until it had
gained her shoulder, where it sat up, one hand firmly clutching her
hair to keep it, she thought, from rolling over and down her back.
It was purring, too, and the interweaving of the two 'sounds' inside her head was – exciting.
She laughed, as the first norbear, not to be
outdone, and despite the fact that it was considerably more portly,
hauled itself hand over hand up her thigh. Laughing again, she
scooped it up into her lap and sat with it cuddled against her,
listening to the tandem purrs and looking around the enclosure.
The little boy was rolling in the vines with his
norbear, squealing with laughter. Two of the adults were sitting
down, norbears at cuddle and grins on their faces. The oldest of
their group was standing, his back against the wall, norbear on his
shoulder, furry cheek pressed against his ear. The man's eyes
were closed and he was smiling.
The librarian stood off to one side of it all, hands
behind his back, face expressionless; the only one of their group not
visited by a norbear.
"Have some manners!" Win Ton exclaimed from beside
her, over a sudden frantic sound of claws scrabbling against
cloth. "It's hardly my fault you were lost in dreams!" He
extended his hand and raised it slowly, a ginger colored norbear curled
half down, rubbing a furry cheek against his palm. "There," he
murmured. "No need to be distraught..."
The sounds in her head increased, and Theo closed
her eyes for a moment, the better to hear them – and jerked as the
librarian called out.
"And that concludes our lecture for the day!
Remember that the norbears are only one of the base creatures available
for the pleasure and comfort of our passengers. Now, please rise,
and put the animals aside. There will, perhaps, be a moment of
dislocation as the empathic bond is broken – they have very little
range – Yes. And please now leave the enclosure."
Theo put her norbears on the green-tangle with a
pang made sharper by the skinny shoulder sitter wrapping his tiny
fingers around the base of her thumb, as if pleading with her not to
go. Win Ton was standing, though, and the rest of the group was
filing through the gate, the little boy still giggling softly to
himself.
"I've got to go," Theo whispered to the skinny norbear. "I'll come back and visit – promise!"
She freed herself as gently as she could; forced herself to stand up and follow Win Ton out of the enclosure.
* * *
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 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.
That the designers had designed poorly – well,
no. The place was very pleasant, for those who valued
solitude. Woe to the designers that not many, at least of this
passenger compliment, desired solitude.
Cho herself was more often to be found on the
Promenade level when she was at leisure, sitting at a small table, with
a glass of wine to hand, and a keen eye on those who passed her by in
their pursuit of joy. It was a pure marvel, how much people told
of themselves by the simple acts of walking and talking. However,
she did her work in the privacy of her cabin, venturing out when she
had need of stimulation, or to beguile herself with observations and
guesses, while more serious business sorted itself out.
Her quarters were quiet, indeed, despite the
proximity of the young apprentice, who for all his youth addressed his
studies with a serious intensity that might worry a fond senior, if she
had not also detected a similar intensity in his ...less weighty...
activities.
There were some, however, whose quarters were
perhaps not so convivial as her own, and work, perhaps, that must needs
be done away from the possibility of busy eyes.
It was just such a one that Cho sought now, moving
casually down the soft pathways and making a special effort to brush up
against leaves and to tread firmly upon the rare fallen twiglet.
She had not guessed wrongly! There, boldly
framed in scarlet blossoms, her screen before her, a pot and a cup to
hand, sat Kamele Waitley. Having run her quarry to ground, Cho
hesitated, not wishing to add herself to the list of prying eyes,
inconvenient questions, and interruption of duty.
A moment's study failed to entirely reassure
her. The screen was open, but Kamele Waitley was gazing beyond
it, her face soft, eyes unfocused, wisps of pale hair defiantly
escaping the knot in which she sought to confine it, and curling
against her cheek. Cho dropped back a step, bestirring neither
leaf nor branch, unwilling to disturb such thoughtful depths – and the
woman at the table blinked, her eyes sharpening as she turned her head.
Immediately, Cho swept the bow between equals, and straightened, remembering to smile.
"Good shift, Subchair Waitley," she said.
"Forgive the interruption. I do not," she added, with perfect
truth, "often find an acquaintance here."
Kamele smiled and inclined her head easily, neither
scrambling to stand and bow in return, nor ignoring the courtesy
offered. She had not, Cho thought, been simply given a rule, for
there was a naturalness to the gesture that mere rule-learning could
never attain. Rather, it was the gesture of someone who had
learned by proximity, over time, until it was simply become part of her
social repertoire.
"I came down to do some work," Kamele said, "but I
think that work has done with me." She moved her hand, showing
Cho the empty chair across from her. "Please, won't you join
me? The coffee is quite good."
"Ah." Cho slid into the offered chair.
"The tea is also entirely drinkable, as I have had occasion to
discover. Also, there is a particular cheesecake – small in size,
but not in delight. May I order one to share, and more coffee for
yourself?"
The blue eyes sharpened on her before Kamele Waitley once again inclined her head.
"That would be very pleasant, I thank you."
Cho touched the discreet button set into the
tabletop and entrusted her order to the smiling young person who
shortly arrived at their alcove. By the time Kamele Waitley had
folded her screen away, the server was returned, bearing a tray with
two pots, two cups, the single sweet and the utensils with which to
address it. These were deftly set out with a murmured wish that
the diners enjoy, and they were once again in private.
Kamele poured coffee. Cho poured tea, and
looked up, wondering what the other would do – and was delighted to
find that she took one single sip from her cup before placing it gently
on the tabletop, her eyes steady on Cho's face.
Here indeed was a fully capable woman, Cho thought,
admiringly, and stifled a sigh at the memory of the person to whom she
sat second.
Well.
Cho took the ritual sip and put her cup down, returning Kamele's Waitley's regard.
"The so-delightful Professor Crowley allowed me to
know at our shared meal last shift that the scholars of Delgado travel
to Melchiza, there to undertake their research."
"That's right," the other woman said, a small line
appearing between pale brows. "We checked the Advisories
available to us and found no warnings of ...danger more than would
await any traveler ignorant of local custom."
Gods, the woman was quick! Cho inclined her head.
"The Advisories are ...adequate for most
travelers. Melchiza values its tourists even more than it values
its trade. What concerns me is this 'research' which your team
would undertake. For Melchiza holds its intellectual treasures
close indeed, and does not easily share."
Kamele Waitley's face smoothed. Almost, she
smiled. "I thank you for your concern," she said softly.
"But we go as scholars to scholars, with an identical regard for the
treasures of the intellect. That common bond will, I think,
bridge our differences." She reached for her cup and raised
it. "We've been in contact with the curator of the items we wish
to examine, and she's been everything that's obliging and scholarly."
Well, and perhaps not so quick, after all, Cho
thought, picking up her cup. But no, she corrected herself as she
savored the truly excellent ship's blend – that was unkind, and likely
also untrue. Kamele Waitley thought in terms of her team's
mission, and those arrangements that scholars made between
scholars. Of those other influences upon her mission which were
yet outside of it – of those things, she was ignorant. And how
not?
"It is," she said softly, "doubtless exactly as you
say. Certainly, there are those ports where I would scarce dare
set foot, except for the surety of meeting a like mind."
She would, Cho thought, consider a bit more, and
weigh whether the warning repeated, and more strongly, might cause more
harm than good. There was, after all, time.
In the meanwhile, she smiled and nodded at the untouched sweet between them.
"Please, let us enjoy this together." She
picked up the spoon that had been set by her hand, and saw with a
breath of relief that Kamele Waitley also picked up
hers. She had not offended. That was
well. One did not like the notion of offending Kamele
Waitley.
* * *
Theo's head was buzzing, like the norbears were
still purring there; and she felt – charged, like she had 'way too much
energy looking for an outlet, and if she didn't do something to channel it, or contain it, then --
"I need to make lace!" she said, fretfully. But her needles and thread were up in the stateroom and --
"Make lace?" Win Ton's voice sounded like her head
felt, bright and full of unexpected edges. "You want to make --
lace?" He looked down at her, brown eyes glittering.
"No," she said, and forced herself to stop, to keep
both feet firmly on the deck and both arms at her sides. She
looked at Win Ton, thought finally formed.
"No, I don't want to make lace," she said. "I want to dance."
He grinned. "Now that, sweet mystery,
is an excellent notion! And I know just the thing that will
answer." He spun rapidly on a heel, arm shooting out and up,
pointing at the sign that flashed and spangled across the wide hallway.
Arcade
* * *
The buzzer sounded. Ella growled "Enter,"
around her last bite of sweet roll – and almost immediately wished she
hadn't.
"Ella." Jen Sar Kiladi bowed as the door closed behind him. "I hope I find you well."
She closed her eyes. "Jen Sar," she said
honestly, "my life is complicated enough right now. Go away like
a good fellow, all right?"
"In time," he answered placidly, and when she opened
her eyes he was sitting in the visitor's chair, hands folded over his
cane. He smiled at her in what looked like sympathy.
"It's only," he murmured, "a very simple question."
"With you," Ella said feelingly, "there are no simple questions."
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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)
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What are the rules?
What you can do:
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What you can't do:
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Who are we?
Sharon Lee
and Steve Miller are the authors of a dozen collaborative science
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drop by the Liaden Universe® website.
Base page created December 1, 2006 by Sharon Lee
Chapter updated June 04, 2007
technical revision posted June 04, 2007
Update March 15, 2008, 12:01 p.m. EDT
copyright © 2006-2007 by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller
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