Scout's Progress by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee Page B

grandmotherly approaches. Once, indeed, her hand crept several finger-lengths in the direction of the communications toggle, while her mind was busy formulating the change of course she would file with the Tower.

    She pulled back with a gasp and continued the course as filed.

    "Protocol Orbit Thirteen achieved, Master Pilot," she murmured, tapping in the last sequence and relaxing against the webbing. "Locked and stable."

    "So I see." Examination Officer Jarl spun his chair to face her. "You disappoint me, Scholar. After such a run at the simulation, I had expected a lift like no other."

    She swallowed, forcing herself to meet his eyes. "This navcomp is more able, sir."

    "That would account for it, naturally," he said with a certain dryness. He glanced at his board, then sent a sharp gaze into her face. "Tell me, Scholar, how much time could have been saved, had you filed that change of course mid-lift?"

    "I—As much as five-point-five minutes, sir. Perhaps six, depending upon precise orientation with regard to orbit approach."

    "I see," he said again. "Yet you chose to continue the course first filed, despite significant time variation. I wonder why."

    Aelliana inclined her head. "The safety factor was slightly higher," she murmured, "as well as the chance of absolute success. It is—important—that I gain my license, sir. I dared risk nothing that might endanger a positive outcome."

    "Dared not put your license on the line, eh? Forgive me, Scholar, but this is not promising news. Surely you know that a pilot's first concern is for passengers and for ship. If he loses his license preserving either, that is regrettable, but necessary."

    Aelliana bit her lip, feeling sweat between her breasts, where The Luck's keys hung. Surely—surely he would not fail her because she had chosen a less-chancy approach. The regulations—

    "I shall give you an opportunity to redeem yourself, Scholar, and to show me your mettle."

    She caught her breath, hardly believing she heard the words.

    "Sir?"

    He inclined his head, lips curved slightly upward.

    "I wish you to return us to our original location. I expect you to halve your lift time—or better."

     

    IT WAS FRIGHTENING, exhilarating. It demanded every bit of her attention, so that she forgot to sweat or worry or take precious seconds to calculate some alternate, less rambunctious descent.

    She abandoned the navcomp early on, letting it babble gently to itself while she ran and modified the necessary equations and plugged them into the board.

    Local traffic presented no difficulty, though she caught an edge of chatter from a slow-moving barge: At least one pilot thought she was pushing the luck. She forgot it as soon as she heard it.

    Numbers flickered, equations balanced, altered, formed and re-balanced; Aelliana dropped the test-ship through eleven protocols, skimmed along the twelfth and fell like a stone into atmosphere.

    Lys had taught her to extend the wings and wait on the jets. It was a Scout trick, designed to conserve fuel in circumstances where fuel might very well be scarce.

    "Fly her as long as you can," the Scout had told her. "You don't have to kick in those retros until you can see the street where you live."

    Flying was somewhat more difficult than mere lifting or jet-aided descent. Flying meant manual defeat of local weather conditions. Local weather conditions had been milk-mild on Aelliana's three previous ventures.

    They were not so today.

    The ship bucked and twisted, nose going down despite her efforts at stabilization. Scan reported precipitation, turbulent winds. Maincomp reported hazard.

    Aelliana hit the jets.

    One short blast, as Lys would have done it—just enough to get the nose up and calm the bucking. They flew smoothly for a minute, two.

    Aelliana hit the jets again.

    And again.

    And one more time, as she took up the approach to the Guild's field. This time she kept them on, letting them eat the remaining velocity, until the