by Kate Moretti
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kate Lansing writes mysteries, young adult novels, and short fiction. Her short story, La Chusa, won first place in the Denver Woman’s Press Club’s 2014 Unknown Writers’ Contest, and her short story, “Colfax, PI,” was published in the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers’ 2014 Crossing Colfax anthology. Kate graduated from CU Boulder with an Applied Math degree and currently lives in Denver, Colorado with her husband and a chair-napping tabby cat named Maple.
THOUGHTS ON BRAVE NEW GIRLS
“I was fortunate growing up to be surrounded by female role models in math and science, but never realized how truly lucky I was until I went to college. I’ll always remember my engineering courses, which usually had around 40-60 students, and how I could count the number of women on one hand. I’m so very thankful for the women in my life who encouraged me, and this anthology seems like a great opportunity to pay it forward.”
Illustration for “The Hive” by Jennifer L. Lopez
FLEDGLING
by Jason Kucharik
“Sarah, what are you doing?” Felix yells from behind me. He’s always so worried about my adventurous side and so protective, even though I’ve made it clear that I can take care of myself. Some days, I wonder why we’re friends, but protective nature aside, he’s generally nonjudgmental, and that’s nice.
“Having a little fun, you party pooper,” I snap back while watching the waves below. He doesn’t understand the rush I get from adrenaline-inducing activities.
“One of these days, you’ll push yourself too far, and you won’t be able to have fun anymore. What are you gonna do then?” I hear his feet scrape against the dirt as he inches up to the cliff behind me.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I muse, “I guess you’ll finally have someone to play games with.” Doing my best to keep from chuckling, I step forward, allowing my toes to breach the edge of the rock face.
“Or I’ll still be playing alone,” he mutters. “I hate funerals.”
Always so concerned. “Calm down. You know computers, I know this.” And I do. I’m currently involved in a double major of physics and mechanical engineering at the University of Hawaii. I’m good with numbers, and at this height, there’s no danger in hitting the surface of the water as long as I do it right. To his credit, though, the jump is still questionable. The recent storm stirred up the normally clear water, making it difficult to judge depth.
“There have only been, like, five recorded deaths, and none of them involved depth.” I don’t actually know if that’s true, but hell, it sounds good. Besides, I said it more for my benefit than his.
“Look, you can—” He pauses, getting as close to the edge next to me as his knocking knees will allow. “You can do it another day. I’ll even come back, and I promise to keep my mouth shut.” He wouldn’t. “What’s the rush?”
I stand there for a moment, staring down at the murky water, thinking of his justified reasoning. Oh, who am I kidding? I’m not going to listen.
Looking up with a wry smile, I say, “This!” then leap forward, watching the shock spread across his face. The adrenaline pumping through my system mid-fall is almost as enjoyable as watching Felix’s expression disappear above the long rock face that races past my eyes. At the last moment, I point my feet down and look up at the beautiful blue sky.
The water envelopes my body in a cool wave, and I spread my legs and arms to create drag and prevent myself from spearing toward the unknown bottom of the ocean. My speed quickly slows, and after a few seconds, the bottoms of my feet lightly touch down on the sandy, rock-spotted floor of the submerged cliff base. Crouching in slow motion, I take a moment to let the cool water wrap me in its silence. Mentally cleansed and momentarily satisfied, I push up and rocket through the seawater. Breaching the surface, I soak up the sun’s warmth. I let out a loud, “Whoo!”
Walking through the hallway of the physics department, all I can think about is the upcoming break. The water has cleared since my little dive yesterday, and it’s been forever since I’ve had the chance to go spear fishing, but first, Professor Haku wanted to see me about something. He didn’t mention what it was in the email, which is a little out of character.
His assistant, Julie, is focused on her monitor, but she looks up momentarily to smile before saying, “Go on in,” and returning to her work. “He’s waiting for you.”
“Thanks,” I offer with a smile of my own then walk past her desk and open the office door. There’s a gray-haired older gentleman in a military uniform sitting in front of the professor’s desk to my left, and I stop before crossing the threshold. He and Professor Haku both stand and offer a smile. “I’m sorry, Professor,”—I point back to Julie—“Julie said you were ready for me.”
“I am,” he says with a nod, pointing to the other chair on my right. “Please, have a seat.” I glance at the military man before cautiously moving toward the chair. “This is General Relleg,” Professor Haku says. “He’s with the United States Air Force.”
The general offers his open palm, and I look at it for a second before meeting it with a firm handshake. Both gentlemen wait for me to sit then take their own seats in unison.
“A pleasure,” I say out of the side of my mouth while looking at the professor. “I don’t mean to be rude, but did I miss something?”
They both laugh as though confirming some sort of inside joke. “No, my dear,” he responds with a warm smile. “The general isn’t well known to civilians, but he’s here to see you.”
Why the hell would a high-ranking military official come to the University of Hawaii to see me? “All due respect, I think I did miss something, sir.” The professor cocks an eyebrow. “What’s so special about me?”
General Relleg rotates in the old leather chair so he can look directly at me. His Service Dress uniform, while similar to the one my grandfather used to wear, is covered with a large variety of bright stripes and shiny, pinned medals denoting a position of great importance.
“What’s so special about you?” he says with a smirk. “Top of your class in advanced optics and solid state theory, quantum mechanics, nuclear and particle physics, and damn near every other class in both majors.”
“I’m not the first person to do double majors.”
“I wasn’t finished,” he says snidely. “You’re an adrenaline junkie, obsessed with solving problems that most people don’t even see. You’re in peak physical condition and highly trained in self-defense and small-arms weaponry, and on average, you sleep about three hours a night because you’ve just got too much on your mind, and the world doesn’t offer enough time for you to figure it all out.”
How the hell does he know all this, especially the bit about my sleep patterns? “So I’m active, and my father wanted me to be able to defend myself.” I’m not quite sure what’s going on, but I don’t like being surprised and tend to get aggressive without even realizing it. “And millions of people have sleep problems every year. How do you know all this?” I turn back to the professor and demand, “What the hell is this?”
“Oh, and there’s one more thing,” the general says. There’s an uncomfortable fury building up in my chest as I snap my attention back to his cold eyes. “You can be aggressive when backed into a corner. All this at the age of sixteen. You’re one hell of a young woman.”
With one swift motion, I jump to my feet and violently push the chair back, causing it to skid against the wooden floor before slamming into the wall behind me. “What the hell is this?” I shout at no one in particular. It doesn’t matter if the professor or the general answer my question, but I won’t sit here and be picked apart by some high-ranking military creeper. Talk about Big Brother abusing tax dollars.
“Please,” Professor Haku says in a soft voice before nodding slightly, “have a seat, my dear. The general has a proposition.” There’s a mixture of sincer
ity and honesty in his eyes. I look down at his hand, which is pointing at the chair behind me. Glancing at the ground for a second, I take a moment to calm my breathing before returning the chair to its rightful place. I drop back into it and cross my arms over my chest.
As I stare at Professor Haku’s desk, I see him nod at the general, who says, in a much gentler voice, “I didn’t mean to upset you, Sarah, but you can tell a great deal about someone from how they react to facts presented in a certain way.”
“Is that so, General Dick?” I mutter out of the side of my mouth.
“Sarah!” the professor snaps.
“It’s all right,” the general assures him. “It is,” he says, turning his attention back to me. “You possess skills that we could put to good use. The best use, in fact.”
“And why would I want to do that?”
“Because right now, you’ll never find a way to fill that void in your chest.” My arms loosen, and my chest begins to tighten as speaks. “The void that appeared after your parents passed. The void that causes you to fill all of your waking time with schoolwork and extracurricular activities aimed at dulling the pain. You’re an information fanatic and adrenaline junkie who can’t wait for the next fix because it’ll make you feel alive and in the present, even if it’s only for a second. Every other moment of your life is spent thinking of what you lost five years ago. I can offer you the ultimate fix.” I’m staring at my knees, but I hear the chair creak as the general leans toward me. “I can offer you a way to save other people from pain, and that’s the only thing that might have a chance in filling the emptiness within.”
I close my eyes, and the tightness in my chest grips my heart as my parents flash through the darkness of my mind. When I open them again, I find that despite all the sadness, anger, and rage inside, I still can’t cry. The fact that I’ve buried these emotions to the point of not being affected anymore is terrifying. Turning to the general but still looking at the floor, I ask, “What are you talking about?”
He shifts in his chair. “It’s called Project Fledgling, and if you join, it will consume the rest of your life, which may not be very long. You will never see anyone you know ever again. I can’t tell you any more about the program without guaranteed cooperation, but I can say this…” He leans farther across the arm of the chair and waits for me to look up at him.
I should be unnerved by the devious excitement in his eyes, but it only makes me more curious.
“It will push you to unknown limits, and you will be saving lives.”
Breaking his gaze, I lean back in my chair, thinking over everything he just said. He’s right: I’m crippled by my lack of emotion, and I can’t develop a real relationship with anyone. There’s nothing for me here, and my time is consumed with finding ways to forget the past. I’ve never felt as if any of my plans for the future would end in happiness or even content acceptance, for that matter. Religion means nothing to me; where was God on the day my parents were ripped out of my life? The only faith I have is in reason. There must be a reason General Relleg has chosen me, and even though I may regret it in the end, I need to know what that reason is.
“Okay,” I say quietly before looking back at the general with conviction. “What do I do?”
Living on Oahu all my life, you’d think I would have been on a plane or two growing up. Fact of the matter is, this is my first time. Almost all of my family lives on the same island, and the few who live on the mainland look for any excuse to visit Hawaii. I guess it doesn’t matter much anymore, since according to the general, I won’t be seeing them ever again.
Both my parents came from small families anyway, and with the exception of my grandparents, who took me in, everyone else kind of kept to their own after my parents passed; my mom and dad were the glue in each of their respective families. I’m sure my grandparents are going to miss me, but they don’t have much time left, and at least I was able to say goodbye. The general gave me some sort of BS cover story about joining a top-secret training program for an underground research division that required a ten-year commitment. I doubt my grandparents will be around in another ten years, but if they are, I’m sure the general will give them another BS story about extending my contract and let them know how happy I am in my very safe research position. While I don’t like the thought of lying to them, at least they’re happy for me without knowing of any risks.
“Are you all right?” General Relleg asks loudly through the headpiece.
I’m sure commercial flights aren’t as loud as the cargo bay of the military C-130 transport. We’re sitting on a fold-out bench near the storage bay and large cargo doors at the back of the plane. To the left is a walled-off section I haven’t seen yet, and then somewhere past that is the cockpit.
Oddly enough, I am. “Yeah, I’m—” I crack my knuckles; it’s a nervous habit. “I’m just thinking about my grandparents.”
He nods. “Regret your decision already?”
I shake my head. “No, sir. As much as I love my grandparents, you were right. There’s no one that understands what it’s like. I made the right choice.”
A red light flashes above us, and the general checks his watch before looking at me. “I need you to get ready.”
He still hasn’t told me anything about Project Fledgling or what type of training I’ll be doing when we get to wherever it is we’re going. Talk about taking a leap of faith. “Get ready for what?”
He smirks and says, “Your insertion.” He nods to the door on our left. “Your gear is in there. Get dressed and leave your clothing in the locker.”
The door looks like something on the outside of a walk-in freezer: large, heavy, and metal, with a horizontal pull latch to open it. “Which lock—?”
“There’s only one,” he answers, cutting me off.
I stare at the door for a moment before turning back to the general, whose focus is on a touch screen tablet he’s holding in front of his chest. Over the last few days, I’ve noticed he has a habit of doing that—pretending as if his attention is on me, only to be focused on something else. There’s no point in asking any more questions; he won’t answer them.
I get up and tentatively walk over to the steel door, unsure of what I’ll find on the other side. It’s surprisingly easy to open but hisses as it does, making me think it’s hydraulically controlled. The room on the other side is as wide as the plane and ten feet deep, with a single metal locker on the right side. In the middle of the room is some kind of lightweight combat suit made from no material that I’ve ever seen.
“Geez,” I say to myself, walking around the side of it and looking at the high-tech helmet and large backpack attached to the rear. The entire suit is gunmetal, has metallic straps all around the torso and limbs, and looks like some sort of futuristic flight uniform with boots sewn on. It takes me about fifteen minutes to wriggle into it, but it’s oddly comfortable once I do. I can’t find a way to connect the straps, but as soon as I place the helmet over my head, the end of each strap locks into place and the entire thing tightens around my body before connecting to the helmet. It applies pressure all over, like a tight-fitting wetsuit, but doesn’t feel the least bit uncomfortable. In fact, after hopping around a bit, I’m surprised to find that my mobility isn’t hindered at all. The clear visor on the helmet starts to make a clicking noise as blue holographic lines appear in front of my field of view. After a few seconds, the entire visor begins to collapse around my face, and it forms a perfect fit over the front of my head.
Large optical cylinders open in front of my eyes as bright blue lines of code and diagnostics scroll past my vision. It doesn’t take long before the boot sequence is complete, and a bright blue phrase appears a few feet in front of me that says, “DIAGNOSTICS AND USER CALIBRATION COMPLETE: FLEDGING INTEGRATED INTO SYSTEM AND READY FOR FLIGHT.”
“Okay,” I murmur.
Walking out the door and feeling more nimble than I can ever remember, I make my way back to the general. “What is this thing?”
He smiles and points at the suit. “This is Project Fledgling.” He stands up and walks toward me with the tablet in his hands. Raising it, he taps and swipes the screen a few times before flipping it around for me to see. “You’re the first candidate to get an Alpha-grade suit. Congratulations.”
“Thanks?” I half say-half ask. Being a guinea pig for untested tech isn’t exactly calming.
Hearing the concern in my voice, the general continues, “Don’t worry, these suits have been tested extensively, and there are a wide variety of fail-safes in place. As you can see on the animation”—he points to the tablet screen—“this suit will allow you to fly. Not only that, it enhances your senses—most notably your vision—and the tight-fitting lightweight material increases your reaction time. It also features a bone-conduction communication system that’s more advanced than anything else out there. My voice should sound like a thought in your head.”
The tablet shows a small animated video of a featureless person getting into the suit and it securing around them, followed by little wave lines around the head to represent enhanced vision and hearing. After that, the animated figure kneels down and jumps into the air, propelled by jets from the pack, as a wing-like apparatus expands out to the arms, followed by a rotor-like tail that spreads out over the user’s legs. The user’s arms are free of the mechanical wings, and the suit continues to expand down around the legs, creating metal talons around and under the boots.
“Whoa!”
“The suit essentially turns you into a bird of prey and has stealth capabilities to prevent you from being shot down.”
