Oath Bound - Book V of The Order of the Air by Melissa Scott, Jo Graham

have just had a call from the Air Minister’s office. He wonders if you would be able to give him a test flight today.”
    “I thought we were supposed to do all of those tomorrow,” Alma said, startled. She shook herself. “I mean, I have no objection, I just don’t want to cause anyone inconvenience.”
    “Oh, no inconvenience at all, Signora,” Pozzi said, without conviction. “But the Air Minister’s schedule is… complex.”
    “Of course.” Alma glanced past him at the bright water, but it was only moderately choppy, nothing the Cat couldn’t handle. “Did the Air Minister request a particular time?”
    “He wondered if the afternoon would suit. At three-thirty?”
    Just as the show closed. Of course. Though at least it gave them all day to show the plane and schedule passengers for the next day’s official display flights. Alma nodded. “How’s the weather supposed to be?”
    “The wind is forecast to drop, which means the lanes will be calmer then.” Pozzi shrugged. “So they say.”
    “As long as it’s not any worse than this, we’re fine,” Alma said. “Please tell the Air Minister we’ll be glad to have him aboard.”
    “Very good, Signora.” He scribbled quickly. “I will confirm this, if you’ll excuse me, and then it will be settled. And they will open the gates in twenty minutes.”
    “Thanks,” Alma said, and turned her attention to the Cat.
    Mitch and Tiny had it well in order, the hatches open and the window curtains pulled back to let in as much light as possible. Tiny had started the auxiliary generator already, the engine chugging steadily, and as she stepped through the main hatch he was just securing the curtain that separated the entrance to the passenger section from the flight engineer’s station. This wasn’t at all like the Catalina they’d flown in Hawaii. That one had been all bare metal and rivet lines, a stripped down prototype that showed its military origins. This one was neatly finished, a lightweight inner skin laid between the ribs of the fuselage, everything painted in pale shades of blue to go with the blue-gray carpet and curtains.
    “Should I start some coffee?” Tiny asked. The compact galley shared space with the flight engineer and the bunks for crew relief: not an ideal situation, Alma thought again, for the dozenth time, but that was something to bring up with Floyd later. This was mostly for show.
    “Yeah, go ahead.” They couldn’t offer coffee to everyone, of course, but they could provide it for VIP guests, and the scent was a pleasant contrast to the smell of machine oil and salt water. She took a breath and began her own inspection, stepping through the stern hatch that led to the passenger compartment.
    Floyd had designed this version of the Cat to carry fourteen passengers plus a six-man crew, and the stern had been divided into two compartments, the first with bench seats against the rear bulkhead that could convert to bunks, and two sets of four swivel chairs around a pair of fold-down tables. The tables were set for coffee, with starched tablecloths and real china cups and saucers painted with Consolidated’s logo. Everything was in place, and she checked the rear compartment — matching double-decker bunks like on a Pullman car, one set to each side, curtains pulled back and blankets tucked neatly under the mattresses — before heading forward again. It was important to give potential passengers an idea of the luxury that was possible, but the real sales would be made by what lay forward, in the crew compartments.
    The coffee was starting to perk in the galley, and Tiny had climbed into the base of the Cabane strut that supported the wing, headset on one ear and off the other as he talked to Mitch in the cockpit, but he leaned down as she went by.
    “Everything all right, Mrs. Segura?”
    “It looks great. You did a good job.” She ducked through the forward hatch into the navigator’s compartment, checking to be sure that