Free Saltation by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee Page B

the note went on, the enclosed was on my duty uniform until I wrapped it here; I have a new one that I was too indolent to attach without good cause, which cause I now have. Please wear it in good health, always. If this scrawl is unreadable it is because a Scout pilot stands waiting to receive it, her ship fueled and at the ready, that it might travel the first of those Jumps that separate us, that your wings should reach you swiftly.
    She smiled at the hyperbole of a Scout waiting a ship for a note to her—and then wondered if it was hyperbole.
    Below the note, wrapped in a second sheet of the same informal stationery, was a pair of slender silver and onyx wings, engraved feathers glistening.
    Theo held them, remembering. She'd seen them on his collar. Yes, she had. And they'd go on hers as soon as she could put them there.
     

Nine
     
History of Piloting
Anlingdin Piloting Academy
    "Perhaps Trainee Waitley would like to relate the history of the ven'Tura Tables to the class."
    Theo started. She hadn't been dozing , exactly, though Instructor Johansen's voice did tend to put her to sleep, even when she wasn't working with a short night behind her. But—the ven'Tura Tables? She had done her reading, she thought, her stomach tightening in panic. She sent a quick glance at her screen, but if she'd read anything about these tables—whatever they were—she hadn't thought them worthy of even a note, much less a history.
    "Well, Waitley?" Johansen purred in that nasty-sweet voice that meant she was about to shave an inch off of somebody—and Theo was apparently today's chosen victim. "I'd think that someone who was sponsored into this academy by the Liaden Scouts would be fully conversant with the ven'Tura Tables."
    Theo took a deep breath to settle her stomach, and stood—in Johansen's class, you stood to give your answer, so everybody could get a good look at the kid who was too dumb to be up on her work.
    "I'm sorry, ma'am," she said, keeping her head up and meeting the teacher's eyes. After all, Kamele and Father had taught her that it was no shame to admit ignorance, though it wasn't going to be pleasant to be chewed out in front of the whole class for not having done her reading thoroughly.
    "I'm afraid I don't know the history of the ven'Tura Tables," she said, and added, before she could stop herself, "and I wasn't sponsored by the Scouts , ma'am. I was sponsored by a Scout."
    "By a Scout," Johansen repeated, sounding thoroughly disgusted. "Thank you for that correction, Trainee. Sit down." She spun around, glaring at the rest of the class.
    "Well? Who can tell the tale of the ven'Tura Tables? No one ? Not one of you has read ahead?"
    She shook her head.
    "And you aspire to be pilots," she said witheringly. She clicked the autoboard control in her hand and the screen came alive behind her, thick with citations.
    Theo touched her keyboard and snatched the info down, scanning the windows as they opened.
    "The class will—at your leisure, of course!" Johansen was saying, "—review this material. Each of you will bring to our next meeting an analysis of the Tables, comparing Master Pilot ven'Tura's original effort with the Caylon Revisions. I will expect some insight into those factors which made revision necessary and the role of the Tables—in the original and the revised forms—in shaping piloting as it is now practiced. Go."
    The end-of-class chimes were simultaneous with that last contemptuous word, and there was a subdued clatter as the trainees gathered their things up and ran for their next classes.
     
    " At your leisure ," Theo muttered, as she walked across the quad. She actually didn't have a class right now, though that didn't mean she was at leisure . Far from it. For her leisure time between classes, she had her choice of activities. She could practice board drills, work through her math tutorials, review the latest sample batch of cargo forms, or she could get started on Johansen's