Part 34 (1/2)

”Come, we are both pilots-one of us at least legendary in skill!” she said gaily. ”What do you say we shake the House dust from our feet and fly?”

It sounded a good plan, he owned; for he was weary of being House-bound already. There was, however, one difficulty.

”I regret,” he said, his voice sounding stiff in his own ears. ”Obrelt does not keep a s.h.i.+p. One is a pilot-for-hire.”

”As I am,” she said brightly. ”But do not repine, if you haven't your own s.h.i.+p. I own one and will gladly have you sit second board.”

Well, and that was generous enough, Ren Zel thought. Indeed, the more he thought about it, the better the scheme appeared. They were, as she said, both pilots. Perhaps they might win through to friends.h.i.+p, if they sat board together. Only look at what had lain between himself and Lai Tor-and see what comrades they had become, after shared flight had made their minds known to each other.

So-”You are generous,” he told Elsu Meriandra. ”It would be pleasant to stretch one's wings.”

”Good. Let me get my jacket. I will meet you in the front hall.”

”Well enough,” he said. ”I will inform the House.”

ELSU'S s.h.i.+P WAS A small middle-aged packets.p.a.cer, built for intra-system work, not for hypers.p.a.ce. It would also, Ren Zel thought, eyeing its lines as he followed his contract-wife toward the ramp, do well in atmospheric flight. The back-swept wings and needle-nose gave it an eerie resemblance to the raptors that lived in the eaves of the port Tower, preying on lesser birds and mice.

”There,” Elsu used her key and the s.h.i.+p's door slid open. She stepped inside and turned to make him an exaggerated bow, her blue eyes s.h.i.+ning.

”Pilot, be welcome on my s.h.i.+p.”

He bowed honor to the owner and stepped into the s.h.i.+p. The hatch slid shut behind him.

Elsu led the way down the companionway to the piloting chamber. She fair flung herself into the chair, her hands flying across the board, rousing systems, initiating checks. From the edge of the chamber, Ren Zel watched as she woke her s.h.i.+p, her motions nearer frenzy than the smooth control his teachers had bade him strive to achieve.

She turned in the pilot's chair, her face flushed, eyes brilliantly blue, and raised a hand to beckon him forward.

”Come, come! Second board awaits you, as we agreed! Sit and make yourself known to the s.h.i.+p!” Her high voice carried a note that seemed to echo the frenzy of her board-run and Ren Zel hesitated a moment longer, not quite trusting- ”So an intra-system is not to your liking?” she inquired, her voice sharp with ridicule. ”Perhaps the legendary Ren Zel dea'Judan flies only Jumps.h.i.+ps.”

That stung, and he very nearly answered in kind. Then he recalled her as she had been the night before,inflicting her hurts, tempting him, or so it seemed, to hurt her in return-and he made his answer mild.

”Indeed, I took my second cla.s.s on just such a s.h.i.+p as this,” he said and walked forward at last to sit in the co-pilot's chair.

She glanced at him out of the edge of her eyes. ”Forgive me, Pilot. I am not usually so sharp. The lift will improve my temper.”

He could think of nothing to say to that and covered this lapse by sliding his license into the slot. There was a moment's considering pause from the s.h.i.+p's computer, then his board came live with a beep. Ren Zel initiated systems check.

Elsu Meriandra was already on line to the Tower, requesting clearance. ”On business of Clan Jabun,”

Ren Zel heard and spun in his chair to stare at her. To characterize a mere pleasure-lift as- His wife cut the connection to the Tower, looked over to him and laughed. ”Oh, wonderful! And say you have never told Tower that a certain lift was just a little more urgent than the facts supported!”

”And yet we are not on the business of Clan Jabun,” Ren Zel pointed out, remembering to speak mildly.

”Pah!” she returned, her fingers dancing across the board, waking the gyros and the navcomp. ”It is certainly in the best interest of Jabun that one of its children not deteriorate into a jittercase, for cause of being worldbound.” She leaned back in the pilot's chair and sighed. ”Ah, but it will be fine to lift, will it not, Pilot?”

”Yes,” Ren Zel said truthfully. ”Whither bound, Pilot?”

”Just into orbit, I think, and a long skim down. Do you fancy a late-night dinner at Head o'Port when we are through?”

Ren Zel's entire quartershare was insufficient to purchase a dinner at Head o'Port, which he rather thought she knew.

”Why not a gla.s.s and a dinner at Findoir's? There are bound to be some few of our comrades there.”

She moved her shoulders. The comm beeped and she flipped the toggle.

”Dancer.”

While she listened to Tower's instruction, Ren Zel finished his board checks and, seeing that she was feeding coords into her side, reached 'round to engage the shock webbing.

”Pilot?” he inquired, when she made no move to do the same.

”Eh?” She blinked at him, then smiled. ”Oh, I often fly unwebbed! It enhances the pleasure immeasurably.”

Perhaps it did, but it was also against every regulation he could think of. He opened his mouth to say so, but she waved a slim hand at him.

”No, do not say it! Regulation is all very well when one is flying contract, but this is pleasure, and I intend to be pleased!” She turned back to her board. The seconds to lift were counting down on the center board. Ren Zel ran another quick, un.o.btrusive check, then Elsu hit the engage and they were rising.

It was a fine, blood-warming thing, that lift. Elsu flew at the very edge of her craft's limits and Ren Zelfound plenty to do as second board. He found her rhythm at last and matched it, the two of them putting the packet through its paces. They circled Casia twice, hand-flying, rather than let the automatics have it.

Ren Zel was utterly absorbed by the task, caught up entirely in the other pilot's necessity, enwrapped in that state of vivid concentration that comes when one is flying well, in tune with one's flight-partner, and- His board went dead.

Automatically, his hand flashed out, slapping the toggle for the back-up board.

Nothing happened.

”Be at ease, pilot!” Elsu Meriandra murmured, next to him. ”I have your board safe. And now we shall have us a marvelous skim!”

She'd overridden him. Ren Zel felt panic boil in his belly, forced himself to breathe deeply, to impose calm. He was second board on a s.h.i.+p owned by the pilot sitting first. As first, she had overridden his board. It was her right to do so, for any reason, or for none-regulations and custom backed her on this.

So, he breathed deeply, as he had been taught, and leaned back in his chair, the shock web snug around him, watching the descent on the screens.

Elsu's path of re-entry was steep-Ren Zel had once seen a tape of a Scout descent that was remarkably like the course she had chosen. She sat close over the board, unwebbed, her face intent, a fever-glitter in her eyes, her hands hurtling across her board, fingers flickering, frenzy just barely contained.

Ren Zel recruited his patience, watching the screens, the descent entirely out of his hands. G.o.ds, how long since he had sat pa.s.senger, wholly dependent on another pilot's skill?

The s.h.i.+p hit atmosphere and turbulence in the same instant. There was a b.u.mp, and a twitch. Ren Zel flicked forward, hands on his useless board-and sat back as Elsu made the recover and threw him an unreadable look from over-brilliant blue eyes.

”Enjoy the skim, Pilot,” she said. ”Unless you doubt my skill?”

Well, no. She flew like a madwoman, true enough, but she had caught that boggle just a moment ago very smoothly, indeed.

The skim continued, and steeper still, until Ren Zel was certain that it was the old Scout tape she had fas.h.i.+oned her course upon.

He looked to the board, read hull-heat and external pressure, and did not say to the woman beside him that an old packet was never the equal of a Scout s.h.i.+p. She would have to level out soon, and take the rest of the skim at a shallow glide, until they had bled sufficient momentum to safely land.

She had not yet leveled out when they hit a second bit of turbulence, this more demanding than the first.

The s.h.i.+p bucked, twisted-again Ren Zel snapped to his dead board, and again the pilot on first corrected the boggle and flew on.