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Authors: Helen S. Wright

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Or the energy, Joshim judged as Rafe straightened up. Curse
it, all the classic signs of web-cramp had been there last night: the rigid
control of voice and movement, the unnatural tension masquerading as alertness,
the dark circles of sleepless nights under the eyes, the untouched drink. How
had he not recognized them?


Which ship
brought you from Jeram?

he asked
angrily.


Does it matter?

Rafe made a gesture of dismissal.

They

re
hardly unique in the way they feel about me.


Which ship?

Joshim insisted.

“Deretya
,

Rafe said wearily.


Have you
registered a complaint with the Guildhall?


No, sir. It would
attract too much attention.

Joshim nodded understanding, not liking it. Rafe

s position was too precarious to risk
claiming the rights that other webbers could take for granted. However, that
need not prevent Joshim from having a few sharp words with
Deretya’
s Webmaster.


We

ll go straight up to the web,

he said briskly, unlocking the door to
the riser with his palm.

Relief showed in Rafe

s
eyes, as if he had expected Joshim to change his mind, even so late. He covered
it quickly with long grey lashes, made a visible effort to steady his breathing
and followed Joshim into the riser.


Did you
particularly want to wet-web?

Joshim
asked as he stepped out at the top.


Whatever is most
convenient for you, sir.

Rafe was looking around hungrily as he answered.
Bhattya’
s web was big, even for a
patrolship: twenty wet-web places and another four dry, all of them currently
idle. Joshim never managed to view it without a pleasing rush of pride. To
Rafe, it must look like heaven, after forty days of enforced abstinence; he was
twitching in anticipation.


We

ll use these.

Joshim indicated the nearest pair of dry places. Wet-webbing was
more satisfying, allowing total immersion in the web without the requirement
for a core of body control, but it took longer to prepare for and Rafe needed
to be in the web without delay.


What size web did
Avannya
have?

Joshim asked curiously, starting to prepare his place.


Ten wet, two dry.
We ran with eight in the web normally, ten when jumping into a strange system
for the first time.

Rafe rubbed at
his wrists unconsciously and moved to prepare the other place.

“Bhattya
runs with
twelve in the web. Eighteen in an alert, including six on filtered standby,

Joshim told him.

We

re thirty-six in the
web-room, plus the apprentices.

“Avannya
wasn

t rigged for filtered standby. There

d never been the need. You don

t expect EMP-mines in abandoned
systems,

Rafe said bitterly.

Especially not in the jump point.

He laid the bunch of web-contacts down
on the couch in front of him and hesitated.

I
have to warn you, sir,

he said
nervously.

I haven

t had any web-time in forty days. I

m going to be clumsy. There

s a risk that I

ll unbalance your web.

The words came out as if it was the last thing he wanted to say. It probably
was, Joshim thought approvingly: all the more credit for saying it.


I appreciate the
warning, but you can

t be any
clumsier than a junior in their first berth,

he said easily.

This web has coped
with hundreds of those.


My extension is
greater than any junior in their first berth,

Rafe insisted.

It
might be safer if I waited for station time.


If I need to, I
won

t have any problems limiting you.

Joshim finished his preparations.

If I thought there was any danger to my
web, you wouldn

t be here.

He walked round to Rafe

s side and picked up the neglected
bunch of web-contacts.

Happy with
these?


Yes, sir.


Then hook in.

He made it an order.

Rafe unfastened his wrist-bands and removed them, putting
them in easy reach on the ledge at the head of his couch. Predictably, the
contacts underneath were dull from disuse. He took cleaner from the ledge and
swabbed them gently. His hands were shaking.


My neck-contact
will need cleaning,

he apologized.

Joshim took the bottle of cleaner from him. Rafe unfastened
the band at his throat and put that with the others. He tipped his head forward
and pulled the curly strands of grey and brown hair out of the way.


Nice contact,

Joshim commented.

You didn

t have many
problems growing your web in.


I don

t remember, sir,

Rafe said, sharp with embarrassment. It was one thing to ask a
web-mate to clean your neck-contact for you, another to ask a strange Webmaster.
He flinched as Joshim applied the cleaner and pulled away after a few seconds.


Yes, that should
be clean enough.

Joshim closed the
bottle and replaced it on the ledge.

What
system of signals are you happiest with?
Bhattya
uses extended tens, but that

s
peculiar to patrolships.

Rafe frowned, then shook his head decisively.

The condition I

m in, standard fives may be beyond me, sir.

He grinned, but it was obviously forced.


Standard fives,
then.

Joshim gestured for Rafe to
lie down on the couch.

Hook in, and
I

ll run a calibration sequence for
you.


Thank you, sir.

Rafe strapped the signal-contacts into place on his wrists,
face-to-face with his own contacts. He adjusted them slightly to get the
position right and checked his judgement by the readout on the monitor screen
beside the couch. Lying down, he twisted comfortably onto his side before
strapping the control-contact into place at the back of his neck. The accurate
positioning of that was more critical and took longer, but eventually he was
satisfied.


Ready, sir.

Joshim triggered the standard calibration sequence and
watched the readouts with interest. Reflex speed and extension at the top end
of the spectrum; range and control less good, but that would be the result of
the web-cramp. Nodding his satisfaction, he made a few adjustments to the
settings of Rafe

s links.


We have two hours
before anybody else needs the web,

he remarked.

I

ll signal when your time

s
up.

As Joshim hooked himself into the web, the configuration
displayed on the monitor beside his couch changed to show the new key-position
and his links activated automatically, the contacts warming invitingly. He
opened the paths from the web to his brain and closed the non-essential paths from
brain to body, leaving himself a view of the monitor and his speech and
hearing.


Ready for
activation, Rafe?

he called, when he
had reached his compromise between the demands of caution and the space that
Rafe would need to stretch away his cramp, and imposed the corresponding limits
on the web.


Ready, sir.

Rafe had obviously been alert for the moment that his
contacts became active. He surged into the web eagerly, extending until he
reached the edges of the space available and holding himself there for long
seconds of clear relief before pulling back and moderating his strength. The
monitor showed that there had been more overlap between body control and web
control during that surge than was wise, but less than Joshim had anticipated.
He relaxed into passivity, content that any danger to Rafe and to the web was
over in those initial uncontrolled moments, and settled himself more
comfortably on his couch to observe.

Rafe was already working each of his circuits individually,
methodically stretching the cramps out of his nerves. After thirty minutes of
precise level and range control exercises, he moved onto pairs and higher
combinations, working up to the complete sequence of Senior qualifiers. He ran
through those twice, once with his eyes open to monitor his performance.

[Good] Joshim signalled as Rafe finished. [Time up.]

There were ten minutes left of the time that he had promised
but Rafe had already pushed himself further than he ought. Without any apparent
ill-effects, it was true, but web-cramp was unpredictable. Joshim wished he had
thought to say that
Bhattya
had enough
spare capacity for Rafe to return every day if he wished. It was an omission he
would correct as soon as this session was over.

[Acknowledged. Disengaging.] Rafe made the switch from web
to body almost as soon as he signalled, a smooth switch this time, without
unnecessary overlap.

Disengaged,
sir,

he confirmed.

Joshim deactivated Rafe

s
links and disengaged from the web himself, stretching pleasurably as he
returned to full body control. Rafe had moved while he was in the web,
sprawling on his stomach with his hands trailing over the edge of the couch. He
looked more amused than embarrassed by his lapse, sitting up slowly and
crossing his legs in front of him while he verified on the monitor screen that
his links were inactive.


Let me check your
contacts before you put your bands on,

Joshim requested, detaching his own links and slipping the web-contacts into
their housing. Nobody could work so hard after so long out of the web and not
suffer web-burn.


No need, sir,

Rafe protested confidently, unstrapping
the control-contact from his neck and spoiling the effect by wincing. He
removed the signal-contacts from his wrists more carefully and waited
obediently for Joshim to inspect the damage.


Not too bad,
considering you were determined to cram six hours work into two,

Joshim reproved him, rummaging on the
ledge for some salve.

Wrists.

Rafe held them out meekly and he
anointed the over-hot skin around the contacts.

Tip your head forward.

He brushed the curls out of the way and treated the larger burn on the neck.

Tomorrow, you do exactly what I tell
you. No more and no less,

he said
sternly as he applied the ointment. Rafe started to turn his head.

Keep still. You skipped breakfast, I
assume?


Yes, sir.


Then we

ll go and find out what the apprentices
have concocted for lunch.

He patted
the curls gently back into place, put the salve away and handed Rafe his bands
one at a time.

After two years,
Fadir shows signs of mastering the cook-unit.


Do I have to
listen to the rest of his life-story?

Rafe asked plaintively, uncrossing his legs and slipping down from the couch.


Not in company,

Joshim promised.

He

ll just worship you
from afar.

Rafe snorted cynically.

Not
for long,

he predicted.

Not if Commander Rallya is there.


What did she say
to you last night?

Joshim asked
sharply.

Rafe shook his head.

Nothing,

he claimed, tugging at his tunic to
straighten it.

Just the offer of
web-time, for which I

m grateful.

He tilted his head and grinned
impishly, stripping another five years from his apparent age.

Shall we go and make Fadir happy?

 

* * *

 

Rallya glared at Rafe as he stepped out of the riser
behind Joshim. His web-time had been well-spent; he was relaxed and smiling at
something Joshim had said on the way down from the web. Joshim too looked
pleased with his morning, which was more than Rallya could say about hers. Yes,
there were ships in dock that needed a Second, but no one she cared to approach
with details of Rafe

s history. No,
she had not explicitly promised to find him a berth, but she had implied that
she could and he had openly doubted it.

And while she had been wasting her time, Rafe had been
impressing Joshim. Not deliberately — she would grant him that — but it was
obvious from the light in Joshim

s
eyes that he had been impressed. Obvious to every webber in the web-room, by
the speculative looks that were flying about. And as for Fadir, mooning around
over a pretty face and a well-turned backside…


Fadir, if you don

t remember to breathe soon, you

ll faint,

she told him sharply.


There speaks the
voice of experience,

Rafe commented.

BOOK: A Matter of Oaths
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