snatched at the controls, bringing
weapons up, demanding answers from the navcomp.
"Padi, grab the beacons, please," he said
calmly, because he was too frightened to be anything but calm.
"Then get the local feeds. We're off course."
A moment's wrestling with the navcomp showed that
they
were
off-course, though not as much as he had feared. More, the
reason was perfectly obvious -- in fact, it surrounded
them.
Surebleak near-space wasn't merely crowded, it was
crammed
with ships. Scout ships, small traders, large
yachts, and a great number of mid-sized craft, not meant for
long-Jump, but well-enough for short trips.
Padi fed him the beacon locations; he pulled
the chart, located port and fed the numbers to the navcomp. That
done, he began to calculate a course of his own, and winced when
Padi brought audio up a little too strong.
"Tree-and-Dragon," someone close said, and
that was -- maybe that wasn't good.
"Kill our ID," he told Padi, and saw the
appropriate light at the top of the board go dark.
He felt Grandfather shift behind him, as if
in protest -- and then still. The pilot made those decisions for
the ship, and Quin was the pilot.
As it happened, he hadn't been quick
enough.
"Message from Tower, welcoming
Fortune's Reward
home," Padi said.
"They request access, and promise a quick descent to the . . . the
boss' own pad."
"The . . . boss?" Quin said, memory
stirring, but failing to fully wake.
"That will be your father, boy-dear,"
Grandfather said from the jump-seat. "The Boss of Surebleak, Pilot
Natesa styled him. You recall it."
Now
he did, at any rate.
Cheeks warm, he addressed his co-pilot.
"Please thank the Tower, and allow
access."
* * *
Tower pulled their files, and routed them
the promised fast drop to port, whereupon they busied themselves
with shutdown, not to full sleep, but to twilight. That had been
Grandfather's suggestion, and while it was undoubtedly a good one,
Quin felt his stomach cramp with renewed worry.
If Grandfather had second thoughts about Pilot Natesa's
tale
now
. . .
Shutdown complete, they gathered the twins
and Syl Vor. By then, the hull was cool, but it seemed that none of
them wanted to open the hatch.
While they were standing in the piloting
chamber, looking uneasily at each other, the comm pinged.
Padi leapt for it, got the bud in her ear,
listened, and stammered, "Yes, sir, at once," she licked her lips.
"Pending pilot's approval."
She turned to Quin. "Tower relays a message:
The boss requests that we open the hatch."
Quin stepped forward -- and stopped, his arm
caught by Luken, who handed him Shindi.
"I'll go first, boy-dear."
Quin looked to Padi and gave her a nod. She
fingered the sequence and the hatch came up.
* * *
Three men in pilot leather stood in the
hatchway. The biggest man was Terran, Quin thought, and he stayed
well to the rear, calling as little attention to himself as a big
man might.
The man nearest --
It was Father, after all! Father wearing a
pilot's jacket, with his hair in need of a trim, and his face
chapped, as if he spent a lot of time out in the cold wind that
blared through the open hatch.
He embraced Grandfather, and Quin looked to
the man who stood a little to the side. That man was . . .
strangely difficult to see, as if he were somehow thinking himself
invisible. Once one had him in eye, however, he was found to look
like Grandmother; dark hair going to gray, and ironic black
eyes.
"Quin!"
Padi snatched Shindi out of his arms and he
was caught in a strong hug, cheek to cheek.
"Quin. Child, I am all joy to see you!"
Father stepped back. Quin sniffled and
blinked, embarrassed to be found crying, but then he saw that he
had no need, because Father was weeping, too.
"Welcome," he said, "to your new home."
He turned, then, holding his hands out to
Padi and to Syl Vor.
"Welcome. Your parents send their love, and
their regret that duty keeps them so long away. Directly, we will
go to Jelaza Kazone, as soon as --"
He raised