Burning Bright

“You got a point there,” Kerestel said rather sourly, and Lioe allowed herself a crooked smile. Cargoes that needed bungee-gars were valuable enough to hijack in transit as well as at the drop point, and the free space between the Republic and the HsaioiAn was loosely patrolled at best, with no one claiming either jurisdiction or responsibility. She shook the thought away—there had been no sign of trouble, from Callixte to Demeter or after—and keyed a final set of codes into the interpreter. Overhead, and across the front of the dome, the tracking overlays began to fade, first the oily swirls that showed the hyperspatial currents, and then the all-but-invisible blue-black lines that showed the depth of realspace. The stars blazed out around them, suns strewn like dust and seed, tossed in prodigal handfuls against the night where the plane of the galaxy intersected the mirror’s curve. Then the shields that cloaked sun and planet vanished, and the brilliance drowned even the bright stars. Lioe blinked, dazzled, and looked away.

“But if they’d only make up their mind,” Kerestel said, and Lioe frowned for a second before she realized he was still talking about the bungee-gars. “You probably felt it, Quinn, they kept changing which capsules were going, so by the time they’d decided, the whole ship was unbalanced. I’ll bet money that hasn’t helped the low-sail projector.”

“I didn’t feel we were off alignment,” Lioe said. “She handled fine, and the projector didn’t feel any worse than when we left Demeter. You did a good job, Micky.”

She saw Kerestel’s shoulders relax, subtly, and realized that he had been looking for that reassurance all along. She hid a sigh—she liked Kerestel well enough, liked his ship even better, but his insecurities were wearing—and said, “Speaking of which, have you scheduled the repairs?”

“Yes.” Kerestel’s face brightened. “The yard says they can take us into the airdock tomorrow, and they’ll tear down the projector right away. The whole thing, including recalibration, ought to take about eight days. Not bad, eh?”

“Not bad,” Lioe agreed. Not bad at all, especially when it happens over Burning Bright. “I thought I’d take off, go planetside,” she said, carefully casual. “You’re not going to need me up here.”

Kerestel frowned slightly, said, after a heartbeat’s pause that seemed much longer, “You’re going Gaming, right?”

“That’s right.” Lioe bit her tongue to keep from adding more. This is Burning Bright, heart of the Game, where the best clubs and the best players—the greatest notables—live and work. I’m not missing this chance. Chances like this are only once a lifetime—

“It’s a game, Quinn,” Kerestel said.

“And it’s one I’m very, very good at,” Lioe retorted. She grinned, forced a lighter tone. “Christ, Micky, it’s not like I’m quitting.”

“One of these days, though,” Kerestel muttered, and Lioe reached across to touch his shoulder.

“Not likely, and you know it. Piloting’s a steady living, and I’m not stupid.” I had to work too hard to get the apprenticeship, coming out of Foster Services; I’m not giving that up anytime soon. But that was none of Kerestel’s business; she forced the smile to stay on her lips, said, “All I’m saying is, I think I’m going to spend the repair break planetside. All right?” She could force the issue, she knew—they were both union, and the union gave her the right to move off the ship anytime it was anchored in orbit for more than five days—but she liked Kerestel too well to use that lever unless she had to. And besides, he’s getting old, one foot on the retirement line. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.

Kerestel nodded, reluctantly. “All right,” he said, and then made himself sound more enthusiastic. “And good luck with the Game.”

It was those efforts that made him worth working for, even if he was getting old and querulous. “Thanks,” Lioe said, and retreated to her cabin to collect her belongings.