Gravity Dreams

Once the towering concierge of transients' quarters departed, I used the link in the room, but Cerrelle didn't answer. I left a short message with the similacra: 'I'm here.'

With all the activities Andra and Ileck had crammed into my days, I didn't mind the lack of structure at all. I lay back on the bed and looked at the ceiling, wondering how the son of a mite trader trained to be a Dzin schoolmaster had ended up going to the stars and returning to learn how to pilot more ships there. The ancients had been wrong about that... where else had the ancient records been wrong - or altered?

My lips quirked. What about the Rykashan version of history? Where was it wrong or misleading? I yawned and closed my eyes, unwilling to follow that flight of thought, not when I had time off, not when I didn't need to do so.

Thump! I struggled awake, realizing it was nearly noon. Outside the window, the snow continued to sputter down. Swinging my feet over the side of the bed, I stood slowly, as though I were backtreading Heck's beams when I had first begun, tentative step after tentative step, blindfolded through the darkness. Was that life, removing the blindfold and still treading through the darkness? I shook my head and swung to my feet.

Another thump echoed from the door.

'Are you even here, Tyndel?'

'Coming!' I straggled toward the door and opened it.

Cerrelle stood there wearing her thin silver jacket open over the olive-green singlesuit. On her collar was a silver pin - a black T across a spoked wheel. I didn't recall the pin. 'Don't tell me. You fell asleep.'

I found myself grinning. 'I lay down, and I was thinking ... and then someone was pounding on the door.'

'Most men don't think that well on their backs.' The humorously sardonic grin faded. 'Are you that tired?'

'Physically ... no. More mentally worn out, I think.'

Cerrelle studied me. 'No self-pity. Honest attempt. Much better.' She motioned toward the foyer. 'Are you coming?'

I grabbed my jacket, light green, and closed the door as I followed her down the steps. At the bottom, I caught up with her.

'I thought you weren't going to be a mindtech.'

'I'm not.' She gestured impatiently, then stepped out into the snow flurries, walking quickly downhill.

'Can I talk to you about Heck's training?' I asked, hurrying to catch up.

'So long as you don't want sympathy.'

'There's a fine line between understanding and sympathy,' I suggested.

'I can draw that line, thank you.' The words carried a slight lilt, and I glanced at her. Was there a twinkle there, or did I want to see it?

'You want to see it,' she suggested.

You're still able to read what I think?'

'Only once in a while. Most of the nanite capability is gone, but I can read your face. You could do it too, if you worked at it.'

'Part of your Patrol training?'

'Yes. It helps.'

'You know ...' I said slowly, 'I don't even know what you do now, unless you're trying to shepherd some other refugee into Rykashan society.'

'I'm a technical assistant to the Transport Subauthority. Remember ... green is for transport.' She gestured vaguely at herself as if she'd forgotten she wore a shimmering silver jacket.

Not for the first time, I had to wonder how much I had missed or ignored from my first days in Lyncol. 'Where are we going?'

'To the Overlook. I'm hungry, and I don't feel like cooking, and it's got the best formulator menu in Lyncol. It's been a long morning, and I don't want to waste the time off.'

'Time off? You have to work that much? I owe for being rescued. Do you owe for training, or are you trying to build up a unit balance?'

'That's considered a rather ... personal question.' Her words were as cold as the air around us, or colder.

I threw up my hands. 'First, you ... never mind.'

'Tyndel... don't get angry with me.' She halted and looked at me, and flakes of snow touched her hair, then melted.

I stopped right on the path and turned and looked straight into those piercing green eyes. 'Cerrelle ... I am trying very hard to adjust to a society I was not born into. I am trying to use every bit of information you people have poured into me. I am trying not to ask any more stupid questions or questions I already have the answers to but don't realize that I do. I am grateful for your honesty and your directness. But ... when you know every bit of my past, when you know all of my losses and my stupidities, and then you tell me that an innocent question about your status in this society is rather personal ... then I think that's hypocritical and self-serving.'

She stood stock-still for a moment, flushing red, then white. Then she swallowed. After a moment, she swallowed again.

'I'm sorry,' I said softly. 'I didn't mean to upset you, but you were born into this society. I wasn't. I've spent five months out of four years with people, and that's not long enough to learn an entire set of new social graces.'

She laughed, ruefully, and then shook her head, then laughed some more. After a while, she shook her head again. 'Oh, Tyndel ... you compliment me and insult me, and then, after you tell me the most truthful and direct statement since I met you, you apologize.'

I didn't know what to say.

'First... you're wrong. I wasn't born here any more than you were. I was born in north Dezret, and I ran for the border before my father could marry me off as a herder's third wife. I didn't learn to read more than the basics until I was seventeen years old. I was diagnosed with a series of genetically predetermined problems that would have killed me before I reached forty. As I told you before, I don't have all the talents necessary to be a Web pilot, and I owe nearly a hundred years' standard service for the medical and educational services I've already received. My current post pays three for one.'

I could feel the color drain from my face. No wonder she was angry and impatient with me. I was fortunate she was still even speaking.

'Tyndel... I don't want pity. I never wanted to bring any of that up. I don't want you, or anyone, feeling sorry for me. Not anyone. Not ever.'

I moistened my lips. 'I've a lot of sour eel to consume.'

Her forehead screwed up in puzzlement. 'What?'

I tried to find a Rykashan equivalent, then shrugged helplessly. 'Ah ... it's an expression that means you were horribly wrong and have to eat all the words you shouldn't have said ... and it tastes terrible - like sour eels ... you know ... bitter and slimy?'

'Eating sour eels ... I like that. The expression, I mean.' After a moment, Cerrelle looked at me, and there was no trace of anger in her voice. 'You were wrong about me, you know?'

'I don't think so.' My words were tentative. I hated to disagree with her, even if the disagreement were to compliment her.

You kept talking about my honesty.' She shook her head. 'I can be honest about you. Or society ...'

'Not talking about yourself isn't dishonest,' I pointed out.

'It is when you use it to mislead people.' She gestured toward the path. 'I meant it about being hungry. I didn't have much this morning, and I'm getting queasy.'

'If you still want to eat with me ...'

'Don't be self-pitying. I was stupid, and you told me so. I deserved it, but that doesn't give you the right to ask for a pat on the back.'

'I was right. You are honest. Which way?'

'This way.' Cerrelle led me past snow piled nearly shoulder-high and turned down a narrower lane toward a low hill. 'It overlooks a pond. It's frozen now, but...'

'It's still an overlook.'

'Right.'

The Overlook was crowded, with only two small tables for two free out of nearly two dozen. We claimed one by the window as a tall man unbent and left, carrying a mug away.

'You sit while I get something,' Cerrelle suggested.