The Value of a Life

Writers: Jane, Francesca
Date Posted: 29th November 2008

Characters: K'hetah, G'len
Description: G'len and K'hetah discuss fifteen Turn old riders in the wings.
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 13, day 3 of Turn 4

"Sharding rain!" the bronzerider exclaimed as he jumped into the doorway of the corridor nearest his office. The normally over-bright, over-heated Weyrbowl was dark with heavy clouds and the gritty mix of ash and sand underfoot was being kicked up by huge rain drops.

The sort that could soak a man through in moments, K'hetah observed as he looked down at his trousers. The drills had been low; sweep riding and surveillance rather than high level Threadfall tactics and so most of them had just pulled on riding jackets. But most of the wingriders had got away before the rain had hit, leaving their Wingleader alone to make the dash across the open Bowl to shelter.

"If I'm not getting cooked I'm getting drenched," the dark-haired man continued to grumble to himself as he headed for his office. "What a place."

"K'hetah!" G'len yelled, wanting to catch the Wingleader before he disappeared inside. He held his jacket over his head as he ran, although his right side was already soaked from having tripped and fallen several moments before. However, a wide smile was on his face. The rain felt good and the weather was warm. He would be dry again before long.

"You look worse than I do," the bronzerider observed, eyeing the Weyrlingmaster Third. "What can I do for you?"

"I just thought you might like to take a jog with me outside. It's so lovely out," G'len's remarked, the smile still on his face and his eyes twinkling.

"Do _not_ get me started on the weather here. Half the time I'm drenched in sweat, the rest of the time its sweat with added rain. If my dragon hadn't fallen in love with the sea I'd be surreptitiously asking around for vacancies elsewhere."

"Lucky for us, you aren't going anywhere." G'len winked. Then, a bit more seriously, "Do you have a moment to discuss C'den? I know he has been in your Wing for awhile, but he is still 15, and could have chosen to return to the weyrling wing." C'den was no longer his concern, but G'len liked to keep track of his weyrlings for at least the first few months in the Fighting Wings. Especially the very young ones.

"Of course. Come in, G'len," the Wingleader said, waving the other man in through the office door. The room with its three desks was deserted. "Grab a chair - oh, and hang your jacket up there to drip on the floor." He shed his own jacket and hung it on the hook fixed to the dressed stone wall behind his desk.

"Do you mind the chair getting wet?" the greenrider asked, eyeing his wet pants.

"Not at all. Mine's going to be soaked as well. What a climate!"

G'len managed to keep his smile from turning into a laugh, but just barely. Perhaps it would be best to not mention anything related to the weather for the rest of the conversation. He took a seat, trying to lean more of his weight on his dry side for comfort. "Now, do you agree with C'den's decision to stay in your Wing?" The young man was rather arrogant, even for a bronzerider, but G'len hoped he wouldn't endanger his wingmates just to save his pride.

"You've flown in the fighting wings, haven't you, G'len? Because there are times when wings in spaces is more important than how good the dragon and rider are. I'm grateful he's decided to stay. Most Wingleaders in my situation would be."

G'len nodded. What K'hetah said was the unfortunate truth, with the fighting wings low on dragonriders. As Weyrlingmaster Third, G'len liked to believe that all weyrlings who survived Blooding would succeed in the wings, but he know that wasn't the case. "Of course, you're right," he acknowledged.

"So, I won't overtly encourage the boy one way or the other, but I'm pleased to have him." The bronzerider grinned. "Is that exactly what you _didn't_ want to hear?"

"It's more or less what I expected, though I'll admit I was secretly hoping for a glowing report on his maturity and aptitude." Even though he was a bit stuck-up, the young bronzerider had done well throughout weyrling training. "But, I'll take what I can get."

"Well," the Wingleader said, drawing the word out as he considered the young wingrider, "he's not a danger to his wingmates or himself. I'd ground anybody who was. He's not the strongest or the weakest."
K'hetah shrugged. "Tell me, why do you think somebody decided on sixteen Turns as the 'right age' for the fighting wings?"

"It was probably a compromise between needing riders and realizing younger ones generally don't do as well as older, more mature ones." G'len knew K'hetah's views on this subject but, as Weyrlingmaster Third, he couldn't help but rejoice at every extra day given to weyrlings before sending them to a fighting wing.

"I was twenty-two when I arrived in the 'fighting wings', but of course they were just drilling groups, then. We attended when we felt like it, if it was convenient. But to be honest, I've never seen any sign of sixteen Turn olds being better than fifteen Turn olds in 'Fall. Perhaps there's a change in our twenties ... but as early as mid teens?" He shook his head. "I think the difference you're seeing is a longer weyrlinghood. That's what makes them appear more successful. And why shouldn't a nineteen Turn old be allowed that? Why should they be pushed out into Threadfall as soon as their dragon's mature?"

"Because we can't afford to give them the extra time," G'len admitted. "If I could, I would let each weyrling progress through training at their own pace. The hold and craftbred would have more time to adjust to weyrlife and mating flights, and everyone would fly for some time in the Queen's Wing. But, we don't have that luxury. Maybe you see holding younger riders back as unfair, but I can't help but be glad that at least some of them get that extra time to prepare." G'len couldn't help but remember I'ster's death. The boy had been in K'hetah's wing, and if J'darin hadn't changed the rules, he might have at least reached the age of 16. He didn't regret J'darin a decision made out of believed necessity, but whenever he thought of that rule, he remembered.

"It seems unjust to me," K'hetah said with a shrug. He played the hand he was dealt in life and didn't worry much about the things he couldn't change. "As if we value lives based on age."

"Well, whether it's fair or not, we do generally value the young more than we do others. When one dies," like I'ster, "it's heartbreaking."
In his job, he had seen many young lives end, whether by accident, stupidity, or innumerable other reasons.

"Perhaps my heart is resistant to breaking," K'hetah murmured. "Oh well. They were placed in the Wings, now they can come or go as they prefer. None of it is our decision, in the end."

"Luckily for us." Unlike some, G'len did not covet the power wielded by the Weyrleader, or the Weyrlingmaster. He just needed to live with the consequences of decisions made by others.

Last updated on the November 30th 2008

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The Value of a Life