The Treasure of Lei Fong Wu

Chapter Thirty Five

“Most of you guys know that I was a great pilot starting out . . . that I graduated second in my class from flight school. Ever wonder who was first?”

“Well, yes, baby, I did always kinda wonder about who was a better pilot than you,” Zoe said, after some consideration.

“I didn’t say he was better,” Wash said sullenly. “I said he was first.” He thought for a moment, then sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“Okay, the flight school I went to – well, it wasn’t the best. Not even the best on the crappy little moon where I grew up. But it accepted government guaranteed student loan vouchers, it was two blocks from a all-girls liberal arts college, and it was cheap. Very cheap. Two year program, no frills: pass the test, and you could leave behind your squalid existence in this industrial slum for high adventure in the open Black with your Grade B pilot’s license, makin’ stacks o’ cash and with a health and dental program. Or that’s what the brochure said.

“Anyway, we didn’t touch a real ship until late the second year. That first year-and-a-half was classes and sims, sims and classes. Mostly automated, so they wouldn’t have to pay too many instructors. Usual foolproof security to keep anything . . . unusual from messing with the results. And I was good – I zipped through the coursework and spent more time in practice sims than anyone else. When the practicums came first year, I shoulda walked away with the top spot. Only I didn’t.

“This creepy little guy named Manfred Asbach was in my class, and he always came in just ahead of me. I was good, and the guy kept beating me. Problem was, no one ever saw him step into a sim. And you’d know it, too, ‘cause Manfred wasn’t too conversant in the ways of hygiene. He barely showed up for class. Mostly, he’d make a couple of crude remarks at the few girls in my school and spend the rest of the time dodging boyfriends and defensive chemical sprays. Never scored to my knowledge. Fou