Free The Octagonal Raven by L. E. Modesitt Page B

N.E.
    Father’s study was on the third level of the dwelling at the rear. There, in cooler weather, the armaglass doors and windows could be slid open to allow the breeze unfettered access. He preferred natural air to the conditioned variety.
    I sat in the green leather chair across the replica of a pre-Collapse businessman’s desk from Father. Besides the desk and the concealed vyrtor that he seldom used at home, the study held little except three leather chairs and a real cherry bookcase that stood nearly as tall as I did. Father hated window hangings, relying instead on polarization of the wide sweep of armaglass that overlooked the rear veranda and pool, and the long grassy slope behind.
    As usual, I listened as he leaned forward to emphasize each word.
    “Federal Service is an obligation of worth, Daryn, and one I cannot gainsay, especially in your case, but that does not mean you need to take it to extremes.” Father’s eyebrows furrowed, narrowing the gap between their bushy edges, the way they always did when he was angry, and didn’t wish to show it.
    “I have to get through pilot training first,” I pointed out.
    “If you want to, you will.”
    That was fine for him to say, but I had more to say, and I could use his own words. “You always told me that if I had to do something, it was stupid to do a poor job. Being a pilot is a good job, not something like managing a supply center on Mars or serving as the logistics officer on a cargo boat that shuttles between Earth and gamma whatever.”
    “Being a pilot is a dead-end position,” he countered, straightening in the high-backed antique-looking swivel chair. “There’s no market for interstellar pilots except in the FS. The whole interstellar travel operation is totally uneconomic. It only makes sense for the survival of the species and the gathering of knowledge, and neither pays off quickly, nor well. The times of big payoffs from science ended with the Collapse. That means that actually working with a logistics system would give you an understanding and a feel for what is required in any kind of business. Those are honorable positions, Daryn, and ones in which you can learn much.”
    “I can learn more of what I need as a pilot.” I could feel my jaw stiffening, and triggered the mental keys to let the augmentation system relax me. “You always said I needed to learn things the hard way.”
    “The minimum obligation is ten years, son, ten years personal objective time. That could be close to fifteen years or more system objective time, even with the Gates.” He paused for effect.
    Much of the effect was lost on me because I knew he was exaggerating the time dilation factors. Once they had been that large, but not in recent years.
    His eyes focused even more narrowly on me. “Nothing I can do will change that. Ten years is ten years and then some.”
    “I understand.” I already knew that.
    Father smiled, shaking his head. “You probably do need those ten years, at least in your own way. Just promise me that it won’t be all or nothing. If the pilot training doesn’t work out, and they offer you something else worthy, you ought to consider it.”
    I nodded. “I will.”
    That meant I couldn’t afford not to succeed in becoming an interstellar pilot. The last thing I wanted was to end up as Gerrat’s implementer and errand boy. If I didn’t make it through pilot training, that’s where I’d be, because I didn’t love running people and their lives the way Father and Gerrat did. I wanted to know how things worked far more than making sure that others worked for me.

Chapter 14
    Raven: Vallura, 458 N.E.
    Although the hangar on the lowest level of my dwelling was cool and dim, outside the open hangar door, the sun shone out of a deep blue late fall sky, and the hint of chill and dusty grass slipped into the hangar on a brief gust of wind. With a smile, I stepped into the glider, on my way to Yunvil to see Mertyn. He’d been my history