The call of something - an owl - echoed across the marsh, a call that haunted but offered no answers.
Even by the time I reached my quarters and my bed, I had no answers for my questions, nor any for the two other questions: Why did such questions matter; why did they bother me?
I laid back on my bed, thinking about Cerrelle, somewhere on Thesalle Orbit Station or Thesalle itself, about Aleyaisha, about honesty ... about becoming a needle jockey for real.
When my eyes closed, the golden-red arcs of fire were brighter, closer, and the nielle of deep space far deeper, yet with a fulgence that beckoned.
I sat up, eyes wide open, breathing hard.
After a moment, I walked to the window and looked out at the damp brown that was more like gray in the light of the half-moon.
More Rykashan than most Rykashans ... But what was a Rykashan, or a demon? I still couldn't answer that, not the way I wanted to.
68
Technically developed self-consciousness isolates the self to an individual who reduces others to the status of things.
Bekunin ran me through diagnostics at zero six hundred, nodded, and said, 'You're fine.'
I caught the seven hundred shuttle, as I had for what seemed years, and before that long found myself standing before my locker in the ready room. I opened it. My pale green shipsuits had all been replaced by the darker greens worn by needle jockeys, each folded neatly on the restraining shelves. On the collar of the first new shipsuit was a shimmering golden Web pin.
I turned as someone entered. Erelya floated just inside the hatch.
'Go on. Put it on.' Erelya was tense, and I'd never seen her this tense.
I pulled off my boots and then slipped off the pale green suit and folded it.
'Just put it in the cleaning bin.'
I eased into the darker green suit, the fabric nearly silklike. It was silk, nanite-generated and modified silk, but silk. After I'd replaced my boots, my eyes went to the senior pilot. 'This isn't as simple as you're making it out to be, is it?'
She shook her head. 'It is, and it isn't. Only a mind can direct a needle ship - one mind and one mind alone. You know there's no such thing as a copilot. We train you as well as we can. We scan the routes as best we can, and start pilots out on the easier runs ... but the energy involved ...' She shrugged. 'When we think you're ready, you get a ship and a run.'
And everyone hopes you've been trained well enough that we all get where we're going and back. 'Exactly,' she responded.
Sometimes, it was clear, pilots could read thoughts - or close enough. Sometimes I could, even, with Cerrelle and Aleyaisha, but more so with Cerrelle.
'Let's go up to operations,' Erelya continued. 'You need to meet Astlyn. Then you'll meet your officers.'
Your officers? That sounded strange, strange enough that I felt almost numb inside, but I took my soft helmet and gear and followed her along the corridor and up the transverse shaft.
'Your ship will be the Mambrino,' she continued over her shoulder.
The Mambrino? I repressed a laugh. Certainly appropriate for you, master of Dzin and seeker after illusions. 'It's one of the older needles. Less of a loss if things don't work out?'
'More of a loss. The older needles are more stable in overspace, but that's not the point, pardon the pun. It's suited to you. We try to match ships to pilots. You'll see.'
Her matter-of-fact tone chastened me. 'I'm sorry.'
'You wouldn't know.'
But you should have guessed. 'I'm on my own, and you have no idea whether I'll make it or not, or whether I'll destroy a ship ...'
'That's right. The Authority bets a ship and a cargo -ten million life-credits on each new needle jockey.' From the shaft hatch, Erelya glided left along the upper-level corridor.
The Authority really bet that amount on each insertion - the odds were merely much worse on a needle jockey's first run. And now I was the one swallowing and wondering.
'The cargo is valuable ... not irreplaceable, but still close to it ... planoforming nanotemplates, that sort of thing. You know already, Tyndel, that any interstellar cargo is nearly irreplaceable. So are needle jockeys.' She touched the edge of a blue-and-black-rimmed hatch and motioned for me to enter.
A single figure waited in the operations room, standing in the light gravity beside the central console. He was black-skinned, with brown eyes that were guileless and simultaneously looked right through me.
'This is Astlyn. He's the senior operations controller here. Astlyn, this is Tyndel.'
I could" see a collar pin - the Web pin, except with two four-pointed stars on each side. My internal information store let me note that he was both a needle pilot and a junior member of the Authority.
'Tyndel, I'm pleased to meet you. I hope we'll be seeing a great deal more of you. Erelya has confidence in you.'
'I hope to be worthy of that confidence.' What else can you say?
'So do I. Erelya is seldom wrong.' Astlyn's thin eyebrows lifted slightly. 'I would not like to see her wrong.'
That was almost a command - bring back the needle ship.
'Nor I, ser.'
'Good.' With a nod, he turned to Erelya. 'I leave you to introduce the officers.'
Why did he need to see you? Just to let you know there is a senior controller? So that he could tell the Authority?
'He's the one who authorizes first flights,' Erelya said dryly. 'So ... if you fail, it's both our heads.' After a pause, she continued. 'On your next flight, you'll meet your crew in the ready room and introduce yourself on your own.'
As if on some sort of cue, two officers entered the small operations room.
Erelya gestured toward the round-faced blonde in the singlesuit that was darker than my candidate greens had been but lighter than the silklike Web jockey singlesuit. 'Berya will be your second.'
'Pleased to meet you,' I offered, studying Berya, taking in her air of competence. Supposedly either the second or third officer could maneuver a needle in real space with the manual controls, in case something happened to the pilot in overspace, and doubtless the officers on the Mambrino would be more experienced than most, given my inexperience.
She nodded, returning my smile with one somewhat forced. 'Erelya says that you're good.'
We'll see, won't we? 'I hope to live up to her confidence.'
The squat black-haired man glided forward, inclining his head.
Erelya explained. 'Souphan will be your third. He's actually going to Santerene for a more permanent assignment, and you'll pick up another third for the return.'
'The cargo's already loaded,' Souphan noted. 'Full, but not pushing mass limits.'
'Good.' Both Erelya and I spoke simultaneously.
She smiled. 'I'll leave you three to the business of getting the Mambrino ready for departure.'
'Thank you,' I said, and nodded to the other two officers.
Berya returned the gesture and led the way from the operations center. The three of us made our way back down the shaft and to the passenger level.
As we reached lock three, where the Mambrino was cradled, I finally said, 'I appreciate your expertise and your confidence.'
'That's what we're here for, captain.' Berya's smile was professional, if guarded.
Souphan tapped out the entry code on the touchpad, and the ship's lock opened. 'I'll be below, ser, doing a last check on the cargo and the stays.'