Authors: Helen S. Wright
“
Since when have
we had to justify orders to Seconds?
”
Rallya challenged.
“
Since they
started being able to think for themselves.
”
“
And there
’
s no doubt that Rafe can do that,
”
Vidar commented.
“
And he
’
s good in the
web, Joshim. As good as they come. You could turn him into a Webmaster in a few
years time.
”
“
That
’
s what I was thinking,
”
Joshim agreed.
“
You can
’
t be serious,
”
Rallya protested.
“
He
’
s a born Commander.
”
“
Two clever tricks
don
’
t prove anything. He was lucky,
that
’
s all. He
’
d never beat you like that twice.
”
“
Luck like that
you earn. And in a real combat situation, once is enough,
”
Rallya insisted.
“
Anyway,
he didn
’
t beat me. The outcome was
inconclusive. If I hadn
’
t gone soft
on him, I could still have won.
”
And
the next time we tangle, I will, she promised herself.
“
I still think I
could make a Webmaster out of him,
”
Joshim said stubbornly.
“
We can sort that
out later,
”
Rallya decreed.
“
How soon can we get him promoted to
First?
”
“
Amsur will brevet
him immediately, if we ask,
”
Joshim
predicted.
“
Will his record
cause any problems getting it made substantive?
”
Vidar asked.
“
With
Bhattya’
s recommendation?
”
Rallya scoffed.
“
No problems at all. Joshim, how soon can you see Amsur?
”
“
Oughtn
’
t I ask Rafe first if he wants the
berth?
”
“
Emperors, of
course he wants the berth! What do you think he
’
s been doing here all day, if not working his bumps off trying to
impress us?
”
Rallya said in
exasperation.
“
Still, if it will make
you happy to ask him first, ask him. And ask him which he wants to be: a
Commander or a Webmaster,
”
she called
after Joshim
’
s retreating back.
“
I
’
ll
bet twenty days pay I know the answer.
”
* * *
Rafe poured himself a third glass of jack and drank from
it without tasting it. Sleepers would be a safer way of achieving the oblivion
he sought — alcohol on top of web-cramp was a fool’s trick — but sleepers had
to be obtained from the station surgeon at the cost of a question and answer
session to which Rafe refused to submit. And with his web in its current
overstretched state, he was more likely to be prescribed mild painkillers and a
homily, neither of which would be of any help for his real problem.
He smiled sardonically. There was no help for his real
problem, which was why he was running away from it inside a bottle of jack.
After ten years, he thought angrily, there should be no more surprises. No
drowning inrush of knowledge, no return of skills that he had no memory of
possessing. All that should have been over in the first confusing year after he
woke without any awareness of who he was, with only the knowledge of what he
was — a webber — and of what he had chosen to have done to himself.
And yet there were still surprises, moments when he turned a
corner inside himself and found: complete recall of the extended tens system of
web signals, and the certainty that he had once used it regularly, but no
memory of learning the system, nor of the circumstances in which he had used
it. He emptied the glass in his hand and refilled it. There were no memories of
anything that had once made him a person, only the things that made him a
webber. And if he failed to find a berth in the next ninety-nine days, that too
would be taken away from him.
The door alert sounded. He cursed. There was nobody in Achil
zone to whom he wanted to speak. There was nobody in any zone in either Empire
to whom he wanted to speak. Get gone, he wished the unknown visitor. Get gone
and leave me to get drunk.
The alert sounded again. Rafe pushed himself to his feet and
went to answer it. If he did not, his visitor would only come back later, when
he would be even less able to deal with them.
“
What?
”
he demanded as the door slid open at
his touch.
“
What, sir?
”
he corrected himself belatedly as he
recognized his visitor.
Joshim looked at him in silence.
“
You ought to be in bed,
”
he said at last.
Rafe shrugged.
“
Yes.
”
He leaned against the wall by the
door, more drunk than he had realized.
“
Is
that all, sir?
”
Joshim was sniffing the air.
“
Jack? In your state?
”
he
questioned.
“
Jack. In my
state.
”
Rafe stepped back into the
room.
“
Want some? The bottle isn
’
t empty yet.
”
“
I should hope
not.
”
Joshim followed Rafe in,
closing the door behind him.
“
How
much have you had?
”
Rafe picked up the bottle and squinted at the level.
“
This was full,
”
he said, abandoning the effort. He sat down again and looked up
at Joshim. A crick in the neck was preferable to collapsing in an untidy heap
on the floor.
“
There
’
s another glass somewhere,
”
he said, picking up his own.
“
Help yourself.
”
Joshim shook his head.
“
No,
thanks. And you
’
ve had enough,
”
he said firmly,
“
Doesn
’
t that depend on how much enough is?
”
Rafe queried.
“
Enough is when
you can
’
t stand up, or see straight.
”
“
Enough is when
you
’
re unconscious,
”
Rafe contradicted him.
“
General anaesthetic,
”
he added, gesturing at the bottle.
“
That
’
s
the theory anyway. As usual, the practice has a very loose correspondence with
the theory, but I expect them to converge eventually.
”
“
When you
’
re unconscious.
”
Joshim plucked the glass out of Rafe
’
s hand and set it down.
“
Do
you do this often?
”
“
No.
”
Rafe closed his eyes and watched the
patterns of light spinning inside his eyelids. Better than watching Joshim
watching him.
“
So why tonight?
”
“
It hasn
’
t been a good day.
”
Rafe opened his eyes.
“
Sorry,
sir. After the trouble you took over me today, I ought to be treating my web
with more care than this, I know. But tonight, there isn
’
t any alternative. I don
’
t
recommend that you stay and watch.
”
Joshim seated himself on the edge of the low table, so that
his eyes were on a level with Rafe
’
s.
Green eyes, Rafe noted, a cap of sleek black hair, and uniformly pale brown
skin, at least as much of the skin as Rafe had seen. A ring bearing the silver
web of a Webmaster traced through a green stone on one hand, and a silver
pendant with the linked circles of an Aruranist, visible earlier today but now
hidden inside a black jacket.
“
Do you take the
pendant off in the web?
”
Rafe asked.
“
Yes. And the
ring.
”
Joshim was amused by the
question.
“
I have a tattoo of the
circles — most Aruranists do — but not of the web.
”
He continued to watch Rafe speculatively.
“
Apart from getting thrown so hard out of the web, I would have
thought today was a very good day. I don
’
t
know of anybody else who
’
s ever
beaten Rallya in a workout.
”
“
I didn
’
t beat her. If she hadn
’
t gone soft on me, she could still have
won.
”
Joshim smiled.
“
That
’
s the second time I
’
ve been told that this evening. It was still a creditable
performance.
”
“
Surprisingly so,
”
Rafe said bitterly.
“
Especially to me.
”
“
Because of your
web-cramp?
”
“
Not because of my
faffing web-cramp!
”
Rafe reached for
his drink, evading Joshim
’
s attempt
to prevent him.
“
Until today, sir, I
had no idea I knew extended tens. Until today, I had no idea I could create a
resonance construct. Or mimic somebody else in the web. Or hide somebody else
in the signal circuits.
”
He gulped at
the drink, emptying the glass before Joshim could take it off him again.
“
Now I know I can do all those things,
but I don
’
t know what else I know, or
how I learned, or who taught me. And if I go to sleep now, I shall spend the
night chasing nonexistent memories around my dreams and beating myself against
the walls inside my head.
”
He flung
the glass against the wall beyond Joshim. It bounced off and rolled across the
floor.
“
And there isn
’
t anybody to blame except myself, and I
’
m never going to know why I was stupid
enough to break my Oath!
”
He stopped and laughed self-consciously.
“
And I ache,
”
he admitted.
“
I feel as
if somebody knocked me down and walked all over me.
”
He put his head on one side and looked at the out-of-focus
Webmaster.
“
You didn
’
t come here to listen to me whining, or
to watch me drinking.
”
“
No. I came to
offer you a berth as
Bhattya’
s First.
”
Rafe swore incredulously, inadequately expressing the
sickness in the pit of his stomach.
“
My
luck could be used as a metric for consistency,
”
he muttered, stumbling to his feet to retrieve the glass.
“
You wouldn
’
t like to go away and pretend you haven
’
t seen me like this?
”
“
No.
”
“
I didn
’
t think so.
”
Rafe froze as his web twinged warning of an imminent spasm.
“
You could at least look the other way
while I throw up,
”
he said carefully.
“
If I do that, you
’
ll never reach the san.
”
Rafe found himself supported to the san, and after his
stomach had rejected the alcohol with which he had flooded it, to the bed. He
rolled onto his side, away from Joshim
’
s
efforts to remove his boots.
“
Go away,
”
he urged.
“
Take the bottle with you if it makes you happy, just go.
”
Joshim finished removing his boots.
“
I
’
m going to fetch
something to sober you up,
”
he said.
“
Your web is in no shape to cope with
what you
’
re doing to it.
”
“
Why bother? It
isn
’
t your responsibility.
”
Rafe turned miserably onto his
stomach.
“
We
’
ll talk about that when you
’
re sober.
”
“
Hell, you are
going to sober me up,
”
Rafe said in
disbelief, seeing the drug-pack with which Joshim returned.
“
Yes.
”
Joshim set the pack down on the table
and came to look at Rafe where he was curled up in the san.
“
Sick again?
”
“
It seemed a good
idea to stay here. Saves me having to clean up after myself later.
”
“
That may be the
first sensible thought you
’
ve had all
evening. Think you can get to the bed? With help, of course. I
’
m not going to treat you in there.
”
Once Rafe was safely on the bed, Joshim opened the pack and
took out a drug-mask and canister.
“
Deep
breaths,
”
he said, sitting beside
Rafe on the bed and slipping the mask over his face.
Rafe obeyed, uncomfortably aware by now that the strictures
about alcohol and web-cramp were fully justified. Joshim strapped a blood
monitor to his arm; he flinched as the probe bit.
“
Finish the
canister,
”
Joshim said, studying the
readout.
“
There
’
s still enough alcohol in your system to knock out half a
web-room. Emperors only know how you stayed on your feet so long.
”
“
Near-human blood,
”
Rafe informed him through the mask.
“
Inconvenient when I
’
m trying to drink myself senseless.
”
“
Shut up and
breathe,
”
Joshim told him.
Rafe closed his eyes and concentrated on pulling the drug
into his lungs. As the alcohol was neutralized, it left behind an emotional
numbness that he welcomed. Anything rather than think about the chance he had
thrown away tonight.
“
Enough,
”
Joshim decided at last, lifting the
mask off Rafe
’
s face.