With another yawn, I opened my eyes to see the screen-borne images of mountain peaks and lakes that appeared and vanished, one replaced by another, all of them collected from the image library of the Rykashan data system, none of them familiar.
Aleyaisha's words of how many weeks before continued to trouble me, more than they had at first. Only ninety-three needle ship pilots, and one more ahead of me in training?
No one had said anything from the first day I'd returned to Runswi? Or had Aleyaisha been sent to let me know that and a few other things? To comfort me - or to see if I needed comforting? How would I find out? Did it really matter? Except that I was an extremely valuable commodity to the Rykashans. The problem was that they were treating me as more valuable than what I knew would make me, much more valuable.
I swallowed another yawn and tried several searches on the screen, tallying up the number of needle ships and the number of outspace stations and colonies. Sixty-one needle ships and five colonies, with another nine orbit stations serving worlds undergoing planoforming. One needle ship per objective quarter per station - perhaps only three a year for some stations.
I frowned. The numbers could be lower for stations other than OE Station - or higher.
The system had no information on ship departures or schedules, at least I couldn't find anything, but that clearly could have been my lack of knowing what keywords or fields to search. So I tried getting information on the ships I knew about - the Hook, the Costigan, the Hay Needle, the Tailor -setting the search based on their names. All that came up was a description of each - no schedules, not even when they had been built. I tried synonyms for 'needle' and related terms, but only managed two more ships' names, the Darning and the Tatter, The descriptions were similar to those of the ships I'd known.
I shook my head. The Rykashan data system was totally open - and still restricted, since one had to know where to look.
Closing my eyes, I tried to concentrate on why the numbers of ships and pilots bothered me. If the Rykashans trained two pilots a year, as they were, it would take nearly fifty years to have gotten ninety-three. Yet ... Cerrelle had said that my obligation would only be ten years personal objective. Even with the time dilation factors, that made no sense. The Rykashans couldn't possibly keep the pilots they needed. Unless they were lying. Or unless they expected I would want to be a needle pilot well beyond the obligated service.
Cerrelle had never lied to me. Not that I knew. Nor had any demon type. That fact, combined with the numbers, sent a shiver through me. But they haven't always told you everything...
I finally touched the studs on the console and attempted to place another link to Cerrelle. Cerrelle and LY-green-forty-four - I'd held that separate from the flood of information that continued to inundate me. Why? Because I'd realized that she'd been the most honest from the first. Brutal, at times, but honest, too honest to let me deceive myself. And I was coming to recognize that for all the pretension, I was a self-deceiver. Maybe all intelligent creatures were. That I didn't know.
The familiar image dominated by piercing green eyes flashed onto the screen, breaking through my musing reverie. 'This is Cerrelle. Please let me know you linked.'
'Cerrelle... this is Tyndel. I didn't know if you got my last message, or if you're traveling somewhere. I still would like to apologize - in person.' There wasn't much else appropriate to say on a link message, and after a moment of silence I broke the connection.
The succession of mountains and lakes reappeared on the screen. Although they looked familiar, when I studied them, they were not. That was life, looking familiar, but totally unknown when examined.
I turned off all the lights in my quarters, as well as the screen, then walked to the window and looked into the darkness outside - a grayish darkness, for the clouds had thickened, and not one star nor the moon was visible. Grayish darkness - was that what I was trying to pull my life from - and I hadn't even known it?
Ninety-three pilots, and I'd be the ninety-fifth?
53
All that is material decays, unlike virtue and sincerity.
The tips of the marsh grasses beyond the lounge window were browning and ruffled in the wind that was raw in the misty and cloudy late afternoon. Two of the other tables were taken, one by a couple - both wearing the solid blue of senior administrators - and the other by two men in brown. The man and woman who were administrators kept their voices low. The other two did not.
'... can't hold a flare to the Noctet ...'
'Flare? How about a pinlight? Hierxal's got more assists with his left toe than the entire high line of Jynx ...'
'High line ... hardly ...'
The conversation went on, but all I could tell from the context was that they were talking about some form of sporting contest - I thought. I'd chosen a lemongrass chicken from the formulator with brown rice and was halfway through it when Aleyaisha slid into the chair across the lounge table from me. She still wore silver and red, but the singlesuit was not nearly so tightly tailored. She still looked good, and her brown eyes were beautiful.
I waited for a moment before smiling. 'You're the gentler, kinder approach?'
She flushed. 'Tyndel, it's not exactly new. Cerrelle tried that, and you weren't exactly ... receptive to information that conflicted with your biases.'
'You're right, but most of you don't have to deal with having your entire life torn apart.'
She looked down, the short sandy hair brushing the tops of her small ears.
'Would you like something to drink or eat?' I asked.
'I don't know.'
'I still like you,' I said. 'I need friends.'
'I like you, and I'm glad you didn't ask for more.'
She would have given more, and that bothered me. 'Get something to eat. I'm still hungry and have to get more anyway.'
That got a faint smile. 'I am hungry.'
'Good.'
The low sound of the wind whistling through the tall grasses sifted into the lounge as we stood and walked to the wall counters with the reformulators.
'What were you eating?' Aleyaisha glanced at my tray.
'Lemongrass chicken with brown rice and chilied peppers.'
'I think I'll stick to lobster and sweet butter with greens.'
When we walked back to the table, I pulled out her chair and waited for her to seat herself.
'If you keep such courtesies, Tyndel, every unattached woman in Runswi will arrange to bump into you.'
'Flattery ...' I mumbled, aware that the two men at the table beyond the empty adjoining one were studying us.
'... needle trainee ... and look at her ...'
'... don't see why ... gone half the time ...'
'Maybe they're twice as good when they're home ...'
Both men laughed.
I could feel my face redden. You do bring me a certain ... attention. This doesn't happen when you're not around.'
'They were talking about you, Tyndel. Not me.' She sipped the dark beer from the tall and fluted beaker. 'I'm just another wanton woman throwing myself at a Web jockey.' She grinned.
'Did you set up those couples who were here, too?'
'I didn't have to.' She laughed warmly. 'There really is a mystique about Web pilots. You'll see. There will be other women. They'll be far less restrained.' She leaned across the table and looked soulfully into my eyes. 'You really are a needle pilot ... I've never known anyone like you ...'