“As I said—” He tried to get a word in.
“I tried the army. They wouldn’t enlist me either.”
Well, that’s no surprise.
“Could you please stop interrupting?”
She giggled.
Great, just great. A miniature version of her.
Simon looked at her eyes. Crystal-blue, just like her dress. No signs of piloting in them at all. What did she expect? That he would just give her Genesis? But still, he did need a pilot.
Hopefully she’d do.
“All right, I accept your offer.” He turned to go inside—which she didn’t notice—so he yelled at her, “Are you leaving?”
“No.”
“Then come on, already! We have work to do!”
“Coming!”
His new pilot hurried after him.
Amelia Davis, what do you think? A voice chimed in his head.
“A mystery, in my opinion,” he replied. As he spoke, Amelia was beaming at his workshop. From the stacks of papers, to his schematics and machinery, to the flower sitting on the windowsill.
“Where’d you get that?” She pointed at the blooming flower. It wasn’t as beautiful as the ones on Arcadia, but it was enough. If one of them survived, it was enough.
“A friend.”
“Who was it?”
“Alex, I suppose.”
Alex. It was still peculiar to use her real name.
“Oh.”
She stepped closer to the flower.
“It’s very beautiful,” Amelia offered.
“It really is.”
Simon started sifting through the masses of paper. By the time he found Genesis’s plans, Amelia was dozing on the couch.
“Wake up!” He tossed a pillow at her. She threw it back and missed, landing on the desk, sending a shower of paper to the floor.
Simon gasped. All of his careful organization, ruined. Amelia had her hands up as if to say, “It wasn’t me.”
“Come over here and give me a hand, pilot.”
By the time they finished, it was almost sunset. A lot of his papers were client records that were usually neatly alphabetized, and now needed to be alphabetized first, then sequenced by date. Everything else was stacked back into neat piles.
“Done!” Amelia was relieved.
“Seriously?” Simon shook his head. There were still so many things to sort! He gritted his teeth and picked up a hologram from early in the build. He waved her over and clicked the silver button at the base.
“See this?” He pointed to the model. “That’s Genesis, the Ranger you’ll be piloting. It’s my own design. A mash-up, you could say.”
Amelia nodded.
“Listen. Are you truly willing to fight in that mech?” he asked. He pressed the button again and the image faded. He set the disk down and gazed at her dubiously.
He desperately needed a pilot, and yet here he was, asking if she really wanted this.…
“Yes, I am.”
Simon looked up and clapped his hands together. “Great! We’ll start trials soon! I hope you’re ready!” he said.
“I am!” She replied in an agitated tone.
“Well then, let’s get started!”
Night. The stars shone brightly through the window. A cloudless night lit only by Shadow’s pale satellite. His drink was hot but he held the mug firmly, concentrating to the point of fatigue. What was out there in the vastness of space? He didn’t know, he was stuck on this planet, forever waiting for her to return.
A place to come home to. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t leave. If he left, Cynthia wouldn’t be able to find him.
He gripped the mug’s handle tighter. The faint light from the tiny moon could finally be seen through the window.
Perhaps he was on the precipice of leaving, he just needed a reason. After all, she left to be a pilot for the Alliance. If he had a reason to leave…
He thought about that looking, back and forth between the window and the table’s surface.
No, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t leave if it meant Cynthia still had a home. They’d lost theirs. If they both lost another…
What would it all mean then?
His drink had finally cooled. He could see his reflection in it: murky, undefined, an unfocused image. Was this really all he could offer?
“Hey.”
Simon looked up. Amelia.
If he could train her to be a pilot, then maybe… maybe he could leave. Maybe he would be satisfied with himself enough that he could leave this place in Fate’s valuable hands. He could travel the stars, travel back home, to Arcadia.
Home.
A wonderful thought.
“Hey,” he replied.
“Thanks for today. For taking me on as your pilot.” She looked him straight in the eye.
He didn’t look away. “You have my thanks, Amelia Davis.”
She shrugged, pulled up a chair, and sat across from him.
“What’s that?” She pointed to the drink.
He looked at it and replied, “Coffee.” He passed it towards her. “Want some?”
“No, I’m okay.”
He downed the mug. The inside lamps flickered on.
“Automatic?”
“Yeah.”
Small talk. Easy to beat around the bush that way, that form of talking.
“Need something?”
“No.”
Was he really that paranoid?
A twinkle of light shot crossed the window.
Shooting stars.
“Pretty!” She jumped up to look.
“Common enough,” Simon mumbled.
“Hmm?” She turned back to him.
“Nothing. Go back to your stargazing.”
“All right then.” Amelia grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the window.
“Watch.” She pointed at the shower.
Beautiful, regal, a once-in-a-lifetime event. Amazing.
“Once again, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Chapter XI
Simulation
A knock. Two. Three. An incessant sound; an annoyance. It echoed through the complex like an alarm, alerting everyone to its presence.
“Would someone get that?”
Voices groaned.
People began drawing straws.
Cynthia chose the short straw.
“Fine, I’ll go!” she told them.
More knocking.
She opened the door to find the one person she least expected.
Mitchell Rayleigh.
“Rayleigh…”
“Hello, Ms. Wood.”
Why was he here?
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“Sure,” Cynthia replied, and stepped aside.
Once inside, he surveyed the foyer and smiled. “You’ve truly done wonders with this place,” he said.
Cynthia studied him. What did he want now? Neither she nor anyone else had gone through pilot training yet, so what did he need here, of all places?
She watched as he introduced himself to everyone, much to their surprise.
“Hello, I’m—”
“We already know who you are, Mr. Rayleigh,” George interrupted. “Alex told us about you.”
“Did she?” Rayleigh turned to Cynthia. “Well then, I’ll make this short. I’m here to assign two of you to a simulation this afternoon.”
Silence.
Rayleigh reached into his pocket and brought out a screen with two names and profiles on the right. He set it on the table.
Maria read the names aloud. “Alexandria Wood and George Hughes.…” She looked up to Rayleigh. “Why these two? Why not someone else?” More suitable?
He looked at her replying, “According to the reports, they’re the best pilots we have.”
“But—”
“It’s only a simulation, Maria. We’ll be fine,” George reassured her.
“Yeah, don’t worry about us. We’ll be back before you kno
w it!” Cynthia smiled.
“All right…”
Rayleigh nodded, and asked, “Shall we?”
The doors shut behind them, and they walked into the glaring sun. The azure sky was clear today—no overcast whatsoever. The streets were empty, except for the odd passerby. There was a car waiting for them at the curb. Rayleigh led them over and opened the door. They got in and were off, their surroundings blurring by.
They passed countless skyscrapers gleaming in the sunlight. Cars honked when they sped past. This side of the city was new to them, but it seemed familiar, like a living, breathing organism. Honey was plastered to the window, searing the sights into his memory. She had to laugh at him. Why would someone do that?
By the time she noticed it, they had almost missed a spectacle: a traffic jam.
Of course, these weren’t rare in this city. The driver slammed his foot on the brake, causing them to bump into the seat in front of them. Horns blared at them.
“Watch it!” George yelled towards the drivers behind them.
The frustrated drivers stuck in the intersection nearly had a skirmish. Cynthia watched it all with indifference. What’s all this fuss for? she wondered.
She rolled down her window and stuck her head out, trying to see past cars ahead of them. Towards the front, she could make out the smudge of a rerouting sign and other cars inching their way to the right.
This would take a while.
The congestion grew as time passed. Endless cries of horns, sunlight streaming through the tinted windows. Soon, Honey was slumped forward in his seat, snoring. Cynthia saw the traffic starting to move and she tapped Rayleigh’s shoulder. He jerked in surprise and bumped his head. Rayleigh glared at Cynthia, who held her hands up in mock defensiveness.
“Hey, we’re moving!”
He looked up at the cars moving ahead.
“I can see that!” he replied.
“I’m just saying.”
The driver accelerated the vehicle forward, and they were on their way.
“Listen,” Cynthia said when the car was finally out of traffic, “why did you really pick us?”
“Why did I really pick you?” Rayleigh replied. “What other reason could there be? That I actually like the two of you?” He glanced back at her. “Look, do I really need a reason? The tests indicate that you would be very good pilots. Is that enough?”
Cynthia nodded.
Honey was still sleeping and she smiled at him. She shook his shoulder and called his name. He slept on. Cynthia frowned. How could he sleep like that? She could barely sleep a wink in this thing. On Arcadia, there weren’t many vehicles in the first place, so she still wasn’t used to them. But the quiet purr of the engine, the constant turning of wheels. The twists and turns of the winding streets. The motion pulled at her, lulled her.
Somewhere along the way, she drifted off to sleep.
“Wake up!”
She felt someone shake her. “Wake up!”
She grunted and opened her eyes. Her neck felt stiff, and her legs were numb. Then she noticed the wheels had stopped turning. She turned to see Honey wide awake and tugging at her sleeve. Cynthia pulled away and stretched.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted their destination. Her eyes widened, and she pointed towards the complex structure.
“Look, Honey!”
“I see it, I see it!”
“You’re awake, then?” Rayleigh sounded tired. When the car stopped he got out quickly.
“Well, we’d better get going,” Cynthia hurried into the fresh air outside, saying, “Shall we?”
“Hey, wait!” George yelled at Rayleigh, who was leaving them behind.
“Come on, slowpoke!” Cynthia said.
The chilly air caught them off guard. Only a few hours ago the sun had shone brightly. Now, an ocean wind brought a bitter cold.
They reached the entrance of the dome-shaped building. Rayleigh was waiting inside, watching them. They stared at him for only a moment before they raced inside for warmth. A blast of cool air met them as they opened the doors. When they reached the doors, Rayleigh was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’d he run off to now?” Cynthia complained as she looked around.
No Rayleigh. She sighed, and dragged her partner around the building.
By the time they finally found him, he looked almost bored. He was leaning against the wall of one the many corridors inside the dome. Where they led, Cynthia didn’t know, but something nagged at the back of her mind, something urgent. She silently dismissed it and walked up to him, saying, “Care to tell us where we’re going?”
He gestured towards the door at the end of the hall, replying, “Follow me. We have some business to discuss.”
They exchanged a look. Business?
“Come along now!” Rayleigh interrupted her thoughts, and they followed him.
“Here we are!” Rayleigh announced and entered a room. Inside there were two identical compartments, along with several technicians leaning over holograms. Cynthia stepped closer to the screens. They seemed to be studying the current candidates.
And we haven’t even started. She looked towards the compartments, and something clicked in her head. At first, it was a nagging sensation, barely registrable. Now, it was blossoming into a migraine, a terrible band of pain tightening around her brain.
Her irises lit to a crimson color. If only she could reach out again….
“Ms. Wood?”
She turned towards the voice.
“Ms. Wood? Are you ready?” it repeated.
“Ah. Yes. Yes, I am,” she stuttered, snapping out of her trance.
Ready for what?
Her attention was caught by the compartments sliding open to reveal a peculiar set of mechanical devices. It was almost like one of those early versions of virtual reality she had seen online, except that it called to her in some way. She looked back towards Honey, but it didn’t seem to have to same effect on him. Then she felt something light being pressed into her hands.
“Here you go,” Rayleigh said, handing her a small camera. “Just set this on the upper right-hand corner and you’ll be fine!” he reassured her.
Somehow, it was comforting.
She started to enter the cockpit when one of the techs handed her a forest-green uniform.
“You’ll have to wear this,” he explained. “It’ll somewhat delay the rate at which the pain is registered.” When Cynthia gave him a blank look, he sighed and said, “Basically, it’s a dampener. It will help with the pain. Much better than passing out, right?” He smiled at her, and she took the bundle of clothes. Five minutes later, the cockpit entrance was sealed. A dim magenta tinged the cockpit, its glow filling the space. The soothing atmosphere calmed her. It was just like that other time—the magenta glow, the spherical shape of the interior, and…
She couldn’t recall the last one.
The steering mechanism jutted out from the center, and she waited for the familiar pain of the sensors.
They never came.
Cynthia scanned the cockpit, and heard the crackling static of the comms.
This is a simulation, remember? she thought. It’s not real.
She griped the steering tightly. The once soothing atmosphere was claustrophobic now. When would they begin? The darkness began to close in on her, swallowing her whole. Even if this wasn’t the type she was used to…
I can handle this, she reassured herself. I can pilot.
She concentrated and the surroundings faded, leaving only the static crackling in in her ears. A reminder. She stayed that way for a long time, listening in the glow of the cockpit. Waiting.
Finally, the crackling ceased.
“Ready?” Rayleigh’s voice came through.
“Yes, I am.”
“All right, then.”
A new voice started to chant, “10…9…”
Even without the psychic set-up between her and the mech, the system was very much the same. As the countdown
continued, the interior went from magenta to a particularly bright cyan. Monitors came to life, showing her vitals, camera angles, and much more.
So, this must be the one of the newer models.
“…5…4…”
Very fitting. Different than that old machine.
“…3…2…”
She could feel a weapon in hand. A sword, no less. On the monitors, it seemed to be a broadsword, but it glowed a dark blue, like an ocean. Sparks flew from the blade, hitting the ground harmlessly in a flurry of electricity.
“…1…Start!”
The scenery changed. What was once a tiled cubical room morphed into something else entirely. Roads crumbled under the machine’s feet. Fires erupted around her, annihilating buildings, sending them crashing to their doom. The sky was clear, although smoke rose to hide the sunlight. Street lamps lay on their sides, shards scattered across the landscape.
Beyond the vast destruction, she saw an eerily similar mech speeding towards her, sword in hand. She instinctively backed away, vainly trying to find cover. The machine turned and tripped on rubble. It fell to the ground, helpless.
Honey was already there, sword thrusting down at her. Trying to parry, she was overtaken by terror, and she swung the blade around wildly, electricity discharging behind it. He jumped back, readying himself for a blow. Cynthia somehow regained her bearings, and she stood. Shakily, the legs moved forwards to meet him.
She countered the thrusts, but slipped back each time. He would gain ground striking her cockpit. Finding some footing, she leaped and flipped over to land behind him. Using his tactics, Cynthia began to strike at his cockpit. He whipped around, blocking her strike with immense strength. They parried each other’s attacks magnificently, lasting several minutes before disaster struck.
Several malfunctions appeared on the monitor as she dodged. Leaks began to stream down the torso and legs, signaling she was about to lose hydraulics. More alarms sounded when she jumped into the air, successfully avoiding Honey.
Warning. Warning. It resonated in her ears, clouding her thoughts. She landed. More attacks, even more injuries. Even though she dodged most of them, she was slowing faster than expected.
It seemed hopeless, but she continued watching his movements, studying them, scrutinizing them. Maybe if she had just a moment….
There.
Hope in Paradise Page 9
