'Most people couldn't tell one needle from another, not from outside, and some not from inside. You'll always sense the differences. Pilots do.'
I hoped I could.
The Tailor followed the standard design of all needle ships, cockpit and passenger section forward and on the upper level, power sections fore and aft, and cargo in the larger lower holds. There were no permaglass canopies or windows for external viewing, not in the ship's normal configuration, although there was an emergency navigation porthole in the control center, behind a movable section of hull, a port that had never been used on the Tailor, according to Aragor.
The control center, or cockpit, held three of the massive acceleration couches, forward bulkhead screens, manual controls before the center couch - that was all that was visible, though I could feel the sensors and the power lines and all the connections of the Tailor's systems.
Erelya gestured to the couch on the left. 'You sit in the second's chair until we're well clear of the station.' She took the third couch.
Aragor said nothing as he took the command seat, nor could I hear anything as he went through the checklist. I did sense changes in the status of the ship. I could feel the fusactors come on line, and the locks closing, the fullness of the Rinstaal cells.
Shortly, the Taibr slipped away from Orbit Two so smoothly that I could not feel the change, only sense the parting of two sets of energy concentrations. Equally deftly, Aragor eased the ship to a halt, so deftly that I wasn't sure he had until, abruptly, the pilot eased out of his couch, his boots a half meter above the deck in the null gravity. Using the toe of his left boot, he levered himself down deftly and extracted a pouch from the small locker in the base of the couch. He clipped what appeared to be a coupler and then a length of sensor tape to the input line to the controls. 'This allows me to freeze you off the system and the boards, if I think it necessary. Even with this, I can't sense what you're doing. I can monitor what data you call up from the system and the physical reactions of the system, but not your inputs. Erelya has doubtless told you why it is engineered that way. I'll be following the ship's monitors and the screens. If they show a problem, I'll take over, and' - he smiled ruefully - 'it won't be gentle. You'll have enough of a headache that we'll be done for the day. So try to be careful and not waste the time you have with the Taibr. You can take the command couch now.'
'Yes, ser.'
'Taking time to familiarize yourself with the ship is not wasting time. Take twice as much time with that as you think you need.'
For all his outward courtesy, for all the softness in his voice, I could sense the metal core of the man, one that brooked no argument. Yes, ser.'
'After you feel comfortable you will make your first approaches to a simulacrum. That's just like you have been with the starbug. The simulacrum will be modified in scale to match a true needle ship, but the proportions are the same so that you shouldn't have that much trouble adjusting.'
I hoped I didn't, and I tried not to fumble as I linked into the Tailor's net system - and was blinded and deafened ...
... white lights strobing from deep within Orbit Two ...
... the faint warmth of the distant sun oozing through the composite of the hull, the patter of photons clicking across my skin - or was it the hull?
... the cage of powerlights fractionally shrinking and contracting around me ...
... the whispering chill of niellen space sucking, grasping at the heat within me ...
... cold points of light set so infinitely distant that each was a tiny cold bell frozen on a single note not quite struck ...
After the initial onrush, I swallowed and began sorting through the sensors. While the inputs were all the same as with the starbug, the strength of the outside sensors was nearly overwhelming, and more than half of the inside system feeds felt deeper - the ones that had been simulated and were now real.
I went through the checklist, not because the ship needed it but because that was the surest way to ensure I had the feel of everything. Then I scanned all the exterior sensors. Somewhere, along the way out from Orbit Two, Erelya or Aragor had launched the simulacrum. Through the sensors of the needle ship, the simulacrum felt even more flimsy and false, the thinnest construct approximating reality. Beyond the ghostly presence of the simulacrum station was the solid presence of Orbit Two - somehow warm and stolid in the niellen dark.
In time, I looked at the older pilot, then back the other way, in Erelya's direction. 'I'm ready, sers.'
'Make a standard approach to thirty meters,' Aragor ordered. 'Figure about ten percent greater response lag than you've been using with the bug. It varies from individual to individual, and you'll need to work that out before we try anything closer. Don't try to stretch it out at the end.'
'Yes, ser.'
The controls were physically the same, and the ionjets responded almost as had the modified gasjets of the starbug, but the needle ship felt more massive. Once I'd eased the Tailor toward the target station's lock, I monitored everything, watching even more closely over the last few hundred meters of the two-kilo approach.
Point zero-six-zero ... point zero-five-five ... point zero-four-eight ... The ionjets eased off, as did the load on the fusactors, and the Tailor rested motionless at forty-five meters from the simulacrum. I could have eased it closer, but Aragor had ordered me not to try that.
'Good.' Aragor's head turned - that I could sense from the system without looking. And good starbug instruction as well. Take her out to two kilos, where you began this approach, and try it with a five percent lag, instead of ten.'
'Yes, ser.'
I eased the Tailor away from the simulacrum, gently at first, since a full blast of the ionjets might have shredded the film surface, and back to where I had begun the first approach. Then I recalculated, and then, with a slow deep breath, tried again.
The separation between ship and simulacrum dwindled. Point zero-four-eight ... point zero-three-nine ... point zero-three-four ... point zero-three-one ...
After the last puffs from the ionjets, I had the Tailor twenty-five meters from the simulacrum lock, without a mark on the film-thin composite.
'One more,' said Aragor. 'Let's try for twenty meters.'
I managed twenty meters - twenty-one, rather. My forehead was slightly damp but not pouring sweat.
'Fold and recover the simulacrum.' Aragor gave the impression of a shrug, and he turned in the second's couch. 'You seem to have a good touch, Tyndel. We'll see how that works later on. Now, you'll try a stand-off approach to Orbit Two, lock four, the one on the end. Bring the Tailor in to a position fifty meters from the station, still side-on to the lock.'
'Yes, ser.'
'And tell Orbit Two what you're doing.'
I nodded. 'Orbit Two, this is Tailor. Commencing near approach to lock four this time.'
'Orbit Two here. Understand series of close approaches to lock four. No inbounds this time. Request you inform Orbit Control when you intend to engage dampers.'
'Will report intent to dock, Orbit Two.'
'Stet, Tailor!
I checked the controls and everything once more before starting the real approach.
Fifty meters turned out to be fifty-two, but I had caught the sense of apprehension and felt I'd best err on the side of distance.