FREE STORIES 2012(47)

All that being so, she had watched herself, and also, with a sort of black humor, watched those who watched her. She held herself aloof from any ties of friendship, that she might not be tainted by another's error; she studied; she flew; she tutored; she slept; and ate; and attended all and every politically significant rally and workshop offered on campus.

By doing these things, she insured her graduation, pilot's license in hand, as her mother and her delm expected.

Her mother next expected her to offer herself for hire as a pilot, that being the clan's main livelihood. There, duty. . .diverged. Kara's heart had long been with the clan's secondary business. Even as a child, she had dogged Uncle Bon Sel's every step in the repair shop, until in self-defense he gave her a wrench and taught her how to use it. Her determination was to continue in that line, now that she had done as her delm and her mother had commanded.

That being so, she filed her app with Howsenda Hugglelans, where she had a good multi-season record as a temp worker, and excellent relations with her supervisors, and with Aito, the Hugglelans Third Son. It was not at all unreasonable to think that she might be hired there as a mechanic or a tech, and best to have all her cards in hand before she brought the matter to her mother.

The application had not yet gained a reply, but here -- here came the approach to her name on the screen. She straightened, waiting, hardly daring to breathe. What if something had happened? What if someone in Admin had decided to withhold her last grade points? What if she had been given a black mark, despite all her care? What if there was some new reg, put into place secretly, that had to do only with those who weren't "truly Eylotian"? It had happened before. . .

Her chest was tight. Surely the feed had slowed? But no, that was foolish, and there! Her name!

And next to her name, her standing in the class -- low, but she had expected that -- and at the end of the line, her license certification. . .

Candidate Second. . .

"Candidate Second?" she gasped, stunned. She had earned a firm second class license. She had the hours, she had passed the tests, she --

"Something wrong, ven'Arith?" asked Droy Petris, with false concern. Droy Petris watched her, also, though less diligently than the monitor.

She had spoken out loud, Kara thought. Stupid, to let caution go now. Still, there was a recover to hand.

"I was astonished," she said, truthfully; "I had no idea I'd graduate at such a level."

He looked at her suspiciously, and Loyalty Monitor Graf was seen to frown, but there wasn't a regulation forbidding a pilot to express surprise.

She hoped.





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The fiveday between the end of class and the senior graduation ceremony was traditionally a festive time, featuring parties, and picnics, dances, and epic games of bowli bowl. It was a time when friendships were reaffirmed; when new addresses and mail drop codes were exchanged.

Kara, who deliberately had no friends, dutifully attended the meetings mandated by Admin. As she was a past-champion, she also took part in the bowli ball tournament where she reveled in the play until, in the quarter finals, her lack of current connections made it easy for her to be ganged up on and evicted early from the game.

Not wishing to risk any unpleasantness in the stands, she avoided spectating. Instead, she volunteered to polish one of the long-wing training sailplanes, that it would be a welcome meeting for its next pilot, and thus received the benefit of exercise.

She also took long, solitary walks around campus, carefully avoiding such places as might call unwanted attention to her, such as Belgraid dorm, which had once housed the Culture Club, since "discovered" to be a hotbed of subversive activity, designed to indoctrinate the unwary into the customs and lifestyles of planets that were not Eylot.

She returned to the dorm from one particularly long walk to find herself the sole occupant. That would have been more pleasing if she didn't suspect that Monitor Graf had planted spy-eyes about, to watch when she could not.

Still, the absence of her dorm-mates did give pleasure. Kara stopped to withdraw a fruit drink from the cold-box, and went to her room, shaking the bulb absently.

She closed the door -- senior privilege -- and sat down at her desk, bringing the computer live with a light touch, snapping the bulb open while she waited for her mail to download.

Three letters came in-queue. Kara ran her eye down the list as she sipped her drink.

The first letter was from Hugglelans. She opened it, bottom lip caught in her teeth. If she had an offer, or perhaps an invitation to interview. . .

But no.





Dear Applicant.

This letter is to inform you that your application for employment has been received. We regret to inform you that Howsenda Hugglelans is not hiring at this time.