He was scheduled for dinner this hour, and his mother the Captain had made it plain during his first few days’ service that she rated moody, self-indulgent boys who skipped meals just slightly lower than Port panhandlers too lazy to apply themselves to a job.

Er Thom swallowed and deliberately turned his back on the hall that would eventually lead him to the cafeteria. He could not possibly eat. He swallowed again, blinking back tears.

His license. He has a second class pilot! The tests had not been in error! if only—

If only he could speak to Daav! If only his foster mother, Daav’s true-mother and twin sister to Er Thom’s mother the captain—if only Chi yos’Phelium were here. But, of course, she wasn’t. He had neither seen nor spoken with her since the day he had won the license.

He had always known that his true-mother would one day claim him to serve on Dutiful Passage and learn his life-roles of captain and trader, just as he had always known that Daav would someday leave home to attend scout Academy. He had simply been caught… unprepared… when “one day” became “this day,” and he was suddenly swept into his mother’s orbit, away from everything that was usual and comforting; his one cold joy the new license in his pocket, which proved him a pilot of Korval.

It was no inconsiderable thing to be a pilot of Korval. Indeed, he had learned that it was no small thing to be cabin boy on the clan’s flagship, true-son and heir of Captain and master Trader Yos’Galan. The child of generations of space-goers, Er Thom had adjusted easily to his duties and to ship-life. He had adjusted less easily to the absence of his foster-brother, who had been within his arm’s reach for the sum of both their lives. Er Thom’s earliest memory was of gazing into his brother’s face, watching the black eyes watch him in return.

“Good shift to you, young sir."

Er Thom gasped, jolted out of his misery by the quiet greeting, and hastily bowed—junior to senior—to Mechanic First class Bor Gen pin’Ethil.