Ship Who Searched by Anne McCaffrey, Mercedes Lackey
Authors: Anne McCaffrey, Mercedes Lackey
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In my not-so-humble opinion, brainship service is just one short step from indentured slavery. You are literally paying for the use and upkeep of that ship by mortgaging yourself. There is very little chance of buying your contract out in any reasonable length of time unless you do something truly spectacular or take on very dangerous duties. The former isn’t likely to happen in ordinary service—and you won’t be able to exchange boring service for whatever your fancy is.”
Tia looked stubborn for a moment, then thoughtful. “All of that is true,” she said, finally. “But—Professor, Dad always said I had his astrogator genes, and I was already getting into tensor physics, so I have the head for starflight. And it’s what I want.”
Brogen turned up his hands. “I can’t argue with that. There’s no arguing with preferences, is there?” In a way, he was rather pleased. As self-possessed as Tia was, she would do very well in brainship service. And as stable as she seemed to be, there was very little chance of her having psychological problems, unless something completely unforeseen came up.
She smiled shyly. “Besides, I talked this over with Moira—you know, giving her ideas on how she could get some extra credits to help with all her fines for bouncing her brawns? Since she was with Archeology and Exploration as a courier, there were lots of chances for her to see things that the surveyors might not, and I kind of told her what to look for. I kind of figured that with my background, it wouldn’t be too hard to get assigned to A and E myself, and I could do the same things, only better. I could get a lot of credits that way. And once I owned my ship—well, I could do whatever I wanted.”
Brogen couldn’t help himself; he started to laugh. “You are quite the young schemer, did you know that?”
She grinned, looking truly happy for the first time since he had seen her. Now that he had seen the real thing, he recognized all her earlier “smiles” for the shams that they had been.
Leaving her here would have been a crime. A sin.
“Well, you can consider yourself recruited,” he said comfortably. “I’ll fill out the paperwork tonight, databurst it to the schools as soon as I finish, and there should be a confirmation waiting for us when we wake up. Think you can be ready to ship out in the morning?”
“Yes, sir,” she said happily.
He rose and started to leave—then paused for a moment.
“You know,” he said, “you were right. I really didn’t pay too much attention to the file they gave me on you, since I was so certain that—well, never mind. But I am terribly curious about your name. Why on earth did your parents call you ‘Hypatia’?”
Tia laughed out loud, a peal of infectious joy.
“I think, Professor Brogen,” she said, “that you’d better sit back down!”
CHAPTER THREE
CenCom’s softperson operator had a pleasant voice and an equally pleasant habit of not starting a call with a burst of static or an alert-beep. “XH One-Oh-Three-Three, you have an incoming transmission. Canned message beam.”
Tia tore herself away from the latest papers on the Salomon-Kildaire Entities with a purely mental sigh of regret. Oh, she could take in a databurst and scan the papers at the same time, certainly, but she wanted to do more than simply scan the information. She wanted to absorb it, so that she could think about it later in detail. There were nuances to academic papers that simple scanning wouldn’t reveal; places where you had to know the personality of the author in order to read between the lines. Places where what wasn’t written were as important as what was.
“Go ahead, CenCom,” she replied, wondering who on earth—or off it, for that matter—could be calling her.
Strange how we’ve been out of Terran subspace for so long, and yet we still use expressions like “how on earth” . . . there’s probably a popular-science paper in that.
The central
Tia looked stubborn for a moment, then thoughtful. “All of that is true,” she said, finally. “But—Professor, Dad always said I had his astrogator genes, and I was already getting into tensor physics, so I have the head for starflight. And it’s what I want.”
Brogen turned up his hands. “I can’t argue with that. There’s no arguing with preferences, is there?” In a way, he was rather pleased. As self-possessed as Tia was, she would do very well in brainship service. And as stable as she seemed to be, there was very little chance of her having psychological problems, unless something completely unforeseen came up.
She smiled shyly. “Besides, I talked this over with Moira—you know, giving her ideas on how she could get some extra credits to help with all her fines for bouncing her brawns? Since she was with Archeology and Exploration as a courier, there were lots of chances for her to see things that the surveyors might not, and I kind of told her what to look for. I kind of figured that with my background, it wouldn’t be too hard to get assigned to A and E myself, and I could do the same things, only better. I could get a lot of credits that way. And once I owned my ship—well, I could do whatever I wanted.”
Brogen couldn’t help himself; he started to laugh. “You are quite the young schemer, did you know that?”
She grinned, looking truly happy for the first time since he had seen her. Now that he had seen the real thing, he recognized all her earlier “smiles” for the shams that they had been.
Leaving her here would have been a crime. A sin.
“Well, you can consider yourself recruited,” he said comfortably. “I’ll fill out the paperwork tonight, databurst it to the schools as soon as I finish, and there should be a confirmation waiting for us when we wake up. Think you can be ready to ship out in the morning?”
“Yes, sir,” she said happily.
He rose and started to leave—then paused for a moment.
“You know,” he said, “you were right. I really didn’t pay too much attention to the file they gave me on you, since I was so certain that—well, never mind. But I am terribly curious about your name. Why on earth did your parents call you ‘Hypatia’?”
Tia laughed out loud, a peal of infectious joy.
“I think, Professor Brogen,” she said, “that you’d better sit back down!”
CHAPTER THREE
CenCom’s softperson operator had a pleasant voice and an equally pleasant habit of not starting a call with a burst of static or an alert-beep. “XH One-Oh-Three-Three, you have an incoming transmission. Canned message beam.”
Tia tore herself away from the latest papers on the Salomon-Kildaire Entities with a purely mental sigh of regret. Oh, she could take in a databurst and scan the papers at the same time, certainly, but she wanted to do more than simply scan the information. She wanted to absorb it, so that she could think about it later in detail. There were nuances to academic papers that simple scanning wouldn’t reveal; places where you had to know the personality of the author in order to read between the lines. Places where what wasn’t written were as important as what was.
“Go ahead, CenCom,” she replied, wondering who on earth—or off it, for that matter—could be calling her.
Strange how we’ve been out of Terran subspace for so long, and yet we still use expressions like “how on earth” . . . there’s probably a popular-science paper in that.
The central
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