Safety Tests Read Online Free Page B

You’re not allowed to come in too fast. It’s too dangerous.”
    “I have the skills,” she says.
    “Skills aren’t a problem.” I try not to raise my voice. I want to sound calm, even though I’m not calm. “There are rules.”
    “Of course there are rules,” she says.
    Warning: Your speed violates the safety protocols for the nearby space station .
    We triggered the station’s automated warning system. I glance at the controls. That means there have to be robot deflector ships nearby.
    “I hate rules,” Iva says.
    “They keep us safe,” I say as I try to contact the station. I can’t. She has taken control of communications.
    The robot deflector ships line up outside our ship. If I can see them, she can too.
    “One of those things hits us,” I say, “and you automatically fail.”
    “I won’t fail,” she says, deliberately ignoring me.
    “I’ll have to flunk you,” I say.
    “Of course you will,” she snaps. “All those stupid rules. You people and your stupid rules. This station and its stupid rules. The licensing board and its stupid rules.”
    She’s supposed to be slowing down. She’s supposed to be easing toward the station. Or to be accurate, easing toward the docking ring. But she’s heading directly toward the station. That’s why the robot ships are crowding us. They assume we’re an out-of-control ship. They’ll nudge us off the path to the station, and then everything’ll be fine.
    I don’t want to get hit. That happened on one of the first tests I ran, and it wasn’t pleasant. I orbited the Earth with that idiot driver for five rotations before the station would let us near it again.
    I touch my console—and get a shock so strong that I pull my hand away.
    She rigged it somehow. In those few seconds before I arrived, she strapped in, then rigged the console, and did it so beautifully, I didn’t see it until now.
    I shake my hand, but say nothing. Then I brace myself and reach in again.
    No shock this time. But the first shadow control is off.
    “It’s stupid, really,” she says. “You people don’t value talent or experience. All you want is someone who can follow the damn rules. Have I told you I hate the damn rules?”
    I click over to the second shadow control. It’s off too.
    Warning: We will move you off your course if you do not comply with regulations.
    “Go for it, asshole,” she says to the automated system.
    And as if it heard her, one of the robot ships brushes against us. We will now drift off course for the station.
    Except that Iva eases the ship back on its collision trajectory. And now she slows down. Waaay down. She’s actually aiming at the station.
    I try the third shadow control. I can’t use it.
    Warning: We will take control of your ship if you persist on this course.
    Another robot ship brushes us. She corrects.
    I can’t do anything. My hands ache from the continual shocks she’s sending through the system. I pull them off the controls for just a second. I try to unlatch my safety strap and it won’t come off. I can’t even shove her away from the console.
    “If you hit the station,” I say, “we’ll all die.”
    “Wow,” she says. “Did you just figure that out? And here I thought you were smarter than that.”
    A signal flashes through the console. Technically, it should have shut the ship down, but she’s managed to lock out the station too. Dammit. I was so dazzled by her skill that I didn’t even see her resetting the controls.
    She’s good. She’s better than good. She’s better than me.
    “Everyone on the station will die,” I say. “You’ll be a mass murderer.”
    “I’ll be dead,” she says. “Who will care?”
    “Then who will care how talented you are? They’re not going to say you were ignored or passed over or a great pilot. They’re going to call you crazy.”
    She glances at me sideways. Then she shrugs. She takes the ship into a perfect line with the station itself.
    I manage to activate the final