The Seventh Wing - 3. Chapter 3

"I wouldn't do that."

J'day looked up. F'rian leaned on his crutches, staring down at the diorama currently taking up the majority of his desk. Stout cords held the frame together and more cords made a lattice-work along the top. Wood tokens, colored and named for the dragons they represented, hung from the latticework to create a three-dimensional display. J'day currently had a portion of their wing's exhibition pattern laid out, trying to puzzle out the changes made necessary by F'rian's exclusion, a trial he'd struggled with for several days.

He frowned up at the man. "Why not?"

"Vasth and Coronath don't like each other. They'll be too busy getting in each other's way to concentrate on what they're doing."

J'day sighed, leaning back in his chair and waving at the diorama. "This whole section's a mess! The exhibition is turning into a disaster, and we only have a couple months left!"

F'rian tapped at a brown token. "Estroth can't pull the turn at speed." He caught J'day's gaze. "I bet Gibbrenth could."

"That's crazy," J'day stated. "We can't learn the whole routine in time."

"Yes, you could. And you need to pull off something crazy, or the men will never respect you."

"Excuse me?"

F'rian's eyes sparkled a little as the corner of his mouth hitched up in a grin. "We're all dare-devils," he tried to explain, tapping on a couple of the green tokens. "The risk is half the fun. Dare to gamble a little of your precious reputation."

"A reputation is built," J'day replied, frowning. "Not gambled."

"It would be out of character for you."

"Hey!"

"Still," F'rian continued, shrugging and gesturing back at the diorama, "as far as this goes, the fewer the changes the better. Take my spot, sir." He deliberately spoke the honorific. "We can change what we have to in order to account for Gibbrenth's size, play to his strengths, rather than just trying to duplicate what Lioleth was going to do. If the others don't have to learn anything new, they'll settle. Of course," and he grinned again, "they'll never forgive you if you try and fail, so we'll just have to see that you don't. Fail, that is."

J'day stared at the greenrider for a long moment. In their five days of their uncertain co-existence, he'd never heard F'rian give a speech that long. J'day's eyes dropped back to the diorama. It did make sense ....

"But, won't Gib's larger size completely wreck the patterns?"

F'rian shrugged. "Oh, sure, but adjusting distance and timing will be no sweat if the dragons aren't also having to learn new moves. It's taken most of a turn to drill these positions into their heads. They're in at least as much of a panic as you are, probably more, since you hadn't even considered joining the wing until now. Am I right?"

"Er, yes." He leaned his chin in one hand and observed the other.

As J'day had returned to his weyr after his morning meeting with Wingleader D'cor, the journeyman healer Jeter had accompanied him, to check on F'rian and bearing a pair of wooden crutches. After seeing how badly swollen the ankle still was, he'd almost decided not to let the greenrider have the crutches, finally deciding that F'rian would most likely continue to do more damage without than with, but he'd still given both men a sound scolding. F'rian's back, however, appeared to be mending just fine, although the sevenday of bedrest had not been good for him in the slightest.

"The only reason I'm giving these to you," Jeter had stated, handing F'rian the crutches, "is because you need to get up and moving before your muscles deteriorate too far. Favor something long enough and it turns into habit and that'll be even more difficult to heal. Move around as much as you can bear to, and keep that foot of yours propped up whenever you sit down."

He'd showed F'rian how to use them and had left. The greenrider looked tired, but his intent gaze betrayed a certain amount of excitement as he stared at the diorama. His eyes, when he looked back over at J'day, were a dark shade of brown.

"F'rian," asked J'day, "just how much did you 'help' with this routine?"

"I designed it, of course," he said with another little shrug. "Why do you think I'm in this wing?"

"Nobody else wanted you?"

There was a wealth of nuance in F'rian's expressions, like a completely different language. He rarely did anything as obvious as an eye-roll or a cock of the head. The slight purse to his lips now and the tic that bounced for a minute in his cheek let J'day know he'd inadvertently hit a nerve. He winced.

"It was a joke, F'rian," he said quickly, as the other opened his mouth for what was undoubtedly going to be a scathing retort.

F'rian turned away, stumping his way towards the ledge where the dragons were napping in the heat of the day. J'day sighed again, mouth turned down in a frown. He never did seem to be able to say the right thing.

"F'rian," he called after the man, adding a low, "Shardit!" as he banged his knee on the desk when he stood. Wincing a little, he started after F'rian, halting when Gibbrenth informed him that the Weyrleader wanted to see J'day. He nodded his acceptance, knowing that Gibbrenth would pass along the word.

He glanced out at the ledge where F'rian now leaned on Lioleth and reluctantly turned away. He hated to leave with a misunderstanding still between them, but one did not keep the Weyrleader waiting. He hurriedly changed into a clean shirt, of which there seemed to be several more than he'd expected in his clothes chest, and moved through the cool tunnels to knock on the door leading into T'rar's weyr. Weyrwoman Shalaya answered and escorted J'day inside. He bowed and thanked her for her courtesy before taking a seat.

"T'rar is in the conference room," she told him, offering some chilled wine. He nodded his thanks.

When the Weyrleader emerged, D'cor was with him. J'day rose to greet them, but the Weyrleader waved him back to his seat, gesturing D'cor to another. The Weyrwoman set out a tray with sandwiches and fruit before taking her leave.

"So how are you and F'rian getting along?" T'rar asked, sipping his wine.

"Er," J'day hedged.

"That bad, eh?" asked D'cor with a laugh.

"Not exactly what I had in mind," said T'rar.

J'day looked from one man to the other, not sure whether thay were teasing or serious. "It seemed expedient," he said weakly.

"Indeed," murmured T'rar, giving D'cor a wink. "And?"

"Sir?"

"Any progress?"

"Er, no, sir."

"You know what the rumors say," said D'cor.

J'day grimaced. "Hard not to, sir. They're wrong, of course."

"They ususally are," D'cor replied, "but F'rian has manipulated more experienced men."

"Including you, sir?"

T'rar laughed. "He's got you there, Cor."

"I'm well aware of the rumors concerning myself," the wingleader said stiffly. "They're certainly seeing a resurgence of popularity, given the current situation, but they're no more true now than a turn ago. I have not and never will have, relations with a member of my wing."

"Good thing," T'rar remarked, affording the other man a teasing smile. "I'd demote you if you did. Just the appearance of favoritism, as you know, is nothing but trouble."

"Kayt and I are quite happy, thank you."

J'day watched this exchange wide-eyed. The two were obviously good friends, something he'd never have expected, given their usual, strict formalities, even amongst the other bronzeriders. J'day had the impression he'd been given an insight into something very special and private.

"So," T'rar continued, looking back over at J'day, "you do realize that I can't let you have F'rian now."

"Er, yes, sir, I'm aware of the implications." If he hadn't been convinced from his own experiences that ranking riders had to be very careful with who they involved themselves with, he would be now. It would be a different story if he were a blue or even a brownrider, but he was a bronze, a wingsecond, and soon to be a wingleader in his own right. He wouldn't want to open himself up to a break in the chain of command like that, even without the discord in D'cor's wing to remind him.

"Speaking of which," said D'cor, taking a bite out of a meat pasty, "any ideas on how to solve our little problem, then? We have a title to defend."

"Well, F'rian suggested that we leave the routine as is, and simply fly Gibbrenth in his place."

D'cor gaped and T'rar slapped his thigh with a loud chuckle.

"Haven't, er, really put my mind to the details yet," J'day added.

"And your thoughts on the matter?" asked D'cor.

"The suggestion is a sound one, certainly the least complicated --"

"For everyone but you, you mean."

"Yes, sir, and it would preserve the original intent, even if it won't be quite the same."

"It's certainly a risky move," said T'rar.

"It's brilliant!" D'cor exclaimed. "I hadn't considered anything that simple."

"Nor I, sir," J'day agreed.

T'rar asked, "Can you do it?"

J'day nodded. "Yes, sir, I believe we can. Gibbrenth and I have experience flying maneuvers. It will take work, and extra practice." He frowned slightly, thinking of just how much extra work he would be putting himself in for. "But I know most of the routine already."

"Seeing it on slate or observing is different from actually performing," cautioned D'cor.

"Yes, sir, but I've observed that it was mostly Lioleth being where the other dragons are not. The real difficulty, I think, is going to be holding the other dragons steady while we adjust for Gibbrenth."

"Oh, don't worry about that," the wingleader groused. "After the talking to I gave N'ach and T'skel, they'll be mindful. Should have spoken to them sooner. Not right for a green dragon to be doing the job of my wingseconds. They've gotten lazy."

T'rar lifted an eyebrow at the admission. "Oh, I don't know," he teased, "I find her nagging quite entertaining."

D'cor scowled and J'day bit back a laugh, hiding his smile behind his glass.

"But I hadn't thought you were a gambling man, J'day," T'rar remarked, eyeing his soon-to-be new wingleader intently.

"I'm not, sir, but it's a good idea, and I do like a challenge."

T'rar lifted his glass in a silent toast. "Indeed. And how are you settling in now?"

J'day greeted the change in subjects with relief, speaking about his mutual love-hate for the weather. He had special ointments to keep from blistering in the sun, though he had the feeling his nose was going to be perpetually sun-burnt now. Learning to drink more to make up for the adjustments in the hot, dry air was a trial, too, and he still found the necessary naps in the middle of the day quite awkward. He'd always been a morning person, so he loved that aspect, rising early, though the long days were harder to get used to; however, he sincerely enjoyed the swift drop in temperature as soon as the sun went down. Nights in the high desert of Igen Weyr were spectacular.

The organization was also different from that of Fort Weyr. The oldest Weyr on Pern had almost 250 fighting dragons now, almost full strength, and they were a lot more strict and formal with each other than the smaller community of Igen Weyr. Igen was close-knit and had a jumble of unspoken rules and traditions that J'day constantly tripped over, but at least the joking and teasing was obvious and, usually, well-intentioned, rather than behind your back and malicious. There were the usual cliques, of course, but those were to be expected and easily avoided or neutralized when need be. Because they were so new, Igen also had a hierarchy built more around individual accomplishments than simple seniority, something T'rar had seen fit to cultivate, and if J'day had found that confusing at first, he was getting the knack of it now.

Both D'cor and T'rar remained relaxed and informal, but J'day wasn't fooled. He recognized the conversation as the interview it really was. He was under no delusions of his position. If the Igen Weyrleader thought he wasn't adapting or had changed his mind regarding J'day's suitability, he could still be sent back.

He didn't think that was likely; T'rar had told him he wanted someone young enough and flexible enough and open-minded enough to thrive in the different structure of the new Weyr, but J'day wasn't going to take anything for granted. He had impressed the Weyrleader once, enough to stick out in his mind turns later, and if T'rar enjoyed him personally, that was all to the better. J'day had worked hard for this chance and he was determined to demonstrate his worth, as more than a pretty face or bundle of untried, natural ability.

He left feeling drained, but relieved, knowing he had conducted himself well. They had talked away the heat of the day and now J'day needed to prepare for the wing's afternoon drill. They practiced almost every day in anticipation of the coming Spring Games. D'cor's wing would be competeing in two events, the formal drill, in which a series of patterns would be chosen for them to perform, so they had to know them all; and the exhibition, the event they had completely dominated the turn before. There were many more events, enough for all the wings to compete in something, and many more individual contests. J'day hadn't yet made up his mind about entering any of those. He and Gibbrenth had neither the patience nor practice for the races, nor the agility for the obstacle courses. Gibbrenth was too small for the weight-lifting and endurance events. There was a chance that all the practing for the wing events would take up all of Gibbrenth's attention, but J'day knew, from long experience, that his bronze would sulk if he were not given enough opportunity to preen in front of the other dragons. He made a mental note to check the event listings to see what they might participate in.

Dragging his feet over the threshold of his weyr, J'day saw F'rian sitting at the table again, foot propped on cushions in a second chair, busily sharpening one of his charcoal pencils. On the far side, Lioleth's tail lay directly through the center of the main room. J'day could see Gibbrenth's bulk on the ledge outside and he smiled.

"What?"

Eyes snapping back, J'day's smile broadened under F'rian's suspicious look. He shrugged. "Nothing."

F'rian grunted softly and returned to his drawing. J'day laughed, feeling his tension fade. Crossing over to his desk, J'day stared down at the diorama. Granted, he hadn't said he would follow the original plan, but he also couldn't think of any better alternatives. While neither as fast nor as maneuverable as Lioleth, Gibbrenth could fill the smaller dragon's role, given practice and time to build up the endurance. J'day wasn't sure that they had the time, but Gibbrenth had something Lioleth didn't have: an insatiable desire to show off.

If she can do it, I can, came Gibbrenth's voice into J'day's thoughts.

It'll be very difficult, J'day cautioned.

I can do it.

Very well. J'day looked up and over at F'rian. The greenrider had his head bowed in what looked to be a very uncomfortable position, pencil scratching diligently on the thin hide.

"F'rian," said J'day, moving towards him, back across the weyr.

The man's eyes shone greenish when he looked up, mouth tilted on one side into a frown. "Yes?"

J'day slid onto another chair. "D'cor liked your idea, of me and Gib flying in your place."

"Okay."

"Will you teach me?"

F'rian blinked slowly, evidently re-focusing his attention on J'day with some difficulty. "Teach you?" he echoed. He set his pencil down, staring at J'day. "You told him it was my idea? Why?"

"Because it was," J'day responded, mirroring F'rian's frown. "It was your idea and you should get credit for it. The trouble will be in carrying it out. Will you help me?"

"Of course, but --"

"I'm not too bad at this stuff," J'day interrupted, "but you know it best and you'll have to show me Lioleth's moves so I can determine suitable alternatives."

"Right, but --"

"So we can talk about it when I get back?"

"Get back? From where?"

"Drill. Don't you know what time it is?" J'day hopped up from the table to change into his riding leathers. "Then I'll need to feed and bathe the dragons, and we're expected in the hall for the evening meal. Since you've got your crutches now, there's no sense in remaining cooped up in here. I should think you'd be tired of just having my company, anyway." He laughed. "But we can cut out early and get to work. Since I'm not in the formation drill, D'cor's given me leave to practice the changes for the exhibition in the mornings instead. I want to have something to show them for tomorrow afternoon's practice. I've got to make sure I really pay attention today."

Tugging on his jacket and tucking gloves in his belt and helmet and flight goggles under his arm, J'day grabbed Gibbrenth's harness from its pegs. He tossed, "This'll be great, won't it?" over his shoulder, jumped Lioleth's tail again, and disappeared outside.