When the Avenger’s twin gravitic cannons fired and hit the Chinese destroyer, they calmed hyperspace. They brought order and as the gravity bands bent to his fighter’s will, the Chinese destroyer came into perfect focus ahead of him. He watched the grav beams pierce the deflection grid and saw them rip armor panels off the warship.
“Betty?” he asked.
“Hold on,” she answered and her lasers began to fire in rapid-fire pulse mode, sending a spray of destruction through the holes to punch deeper into the destroyer. Atmosphere belched out, flash freezing into crystals that reflected the multicolored hues of hyperspace that seemed to rage against the edges of the gravitic beams.
“Holding on,” he answered, swallowed, and set his teeth. This was going to really hurt.
“Release!” Charles ordered and ten Avengers disengaged twenty gravitic beams in unison. Hyperspace lashed back into the calm enforced on it, gravity bands whipping through anything in their way. Deflection grids shorted out in instants, armor buckled, bent, and ripped, and the Chinese warships came apart as hyperspace slashed through them in dozens of places.
Those same bands of gravity ripped down the path left by the grav cannons and snapped into the formation of Avengers at its origin. Deflection grids failed and whips of gravity lashed through the Cowboys. Jack saw the nose of his fighter split open and the left wing sheer off. And then another whip snapped just short of them, sending the Avenger tumbling backwards through hyperspace.
The universe spun around them, alternating bands of color that never ended, and Jack shut his eyes to keep himself from throwing up all over the cockpit. The motion he could handle, but there was something about spinning in hyperspace that made his stomach go into flips. He didn’t know if it was the thought of being lost in space, never to be found, that did it, or if passing through so many bands of gravity without control just physically made him sick.
Whatever the reason, he held on tight and concentrated his mind on a bonfire on a beach with people partying. It was a beautiful sun, amazing music, and good friends. He held that vision as he felt his knuckles go white. After an eternity of tumbling, they slowed down and came back under control.
“Thanks,” Jack whispered, gulping for breath and blinked his eyes, focusing back on the here and now. A meter in front of him, the nose of the fighter was a jagged hunk of metal and wires. He looked over to the left and saw their wing twisted, with most of it ripped away entirely.
“That wasn’t me,” Betty returned and pointed up. “Almost all my systems are fried.”
Jack followed her finger and looked up to see a German fighter hanging directly above them. “Ah.” The German must have grabbed them using his grav drive. He waved at the fighter. “Hey, thanks,” he said weakly.
“Mein Gott mensch!” the German shouted, his voice sounding like he was clearing his throat while talking. Jack always had subscribed to the idea that some jokes were based on a kernel of truth. “How do you do this vith fighters?”
Jack smiled at Betty, took a deep breath, and answered. “Clean living and American engineering.”
Betty smiled and slapped him. “Hush, Jack. You never had a clean life.”
Jack gave her his best offended look. “Betty, I will have you know that is baseless libel.”
Betty raised an eyebrow, crossed her arms, and tapped a toe on the console. “You know I’m just quoting their fathers.”
Jack shrugged in a dismissive manner. “Well, there it is! They’re always biased, thinking their poor innocent daughter would never-”
“You two quarrel like married couple,” the German interrupted with a growl.
Jack blinked, looked at Betty, blinked again, and looked at her again. She returned his gaze, arms still crossed though her foot wasn’t tapping anymore. He cracked a smile and pulled in a breath to say some joke about why they were just no good for each other.
Betty uncoiled like a viper and aimed a finger at his nose. “One word and I will strangle you in your sleep,” she said with a glare.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jack said quickly.
“Ha!” the German said with a laugh. “You even-”
“Shut up!” Betty ordered.
“Ja fraulein!” he reacted without hesitation.
“Better,” Betty said in a huff. “Now the truth is, we really aren’t just fighters. We’re Avengers. We’re designed to kill capital ships. The only reason we’re not designated bombers is because the military wanted fighter pilots to perform the initial testing and God knows fighter pilots would be too proud to fly a mere bomber.”
Jack opened his mouth to protest and Betty glared at him. He shut his mouth again. She nodded her approval.
“Ich sehe,” the German said in what Jack thought might be a thoughtful tone. It was certainly a less “strangling stray cats” growl than his normal tone. “Ve had trouble keeping up vith your maneuwers. Do you alvays manuewer like this?”
“Whenever she wants to impress someone,” Jack sneaked out under Betty’s glare. He gave her an innocent smile and she rolled her eyes.
“You fly like fighter,” the German transmitted. “I think name is goot.”
Betty smiled and gave Jack a “see, that’s how you talk to a girl” look. Then she answered the German. “Why, thank you, kind sir.
“I vould like a test flight. Vould that be possible?” the German asked, his tone betraying a lot more yearning than he probably wanted to admit. Either that, or he had a pain in his stomach. Jack couldn’t tell for certain what with the accent.
Jack shrugged and looked at Betty. This was all her decision after all.
Betty sighed and looked out on her ruined structure. “Anything for a kind sir like you. Just wait for the Peloran to fix me up first. I’m not presentable right now.”
“Of course, fraulein.”
Betty pursed her lips and gave Jack a questioning look before continuing. “You do realize by the way that the only way you would get to fly something like this is if you fly off a Peloran ship? There is no way your ships could repair or otherwise support something like it. They don’t have the infrastructure. Hell, I couldn’t fly off an American ship the way my systems are wired right now!”
“Ja, fraulein. I understand.” There was that same tone. Jack didn’t think the guy was in pain. Or at least not the kind of pain you got from bad food. Maybe the kind of pain you got when you realized you were riding a dinosaur when a Corvette shot by though.
Betty frowned at Jack, seeming deep in thought. “And this is acceptable to you?”
There was a long pause this time, before the German answered. “Ja, fraulein. For the purposes of cooperation among allies of course, fraulein.”
Betty gave Jack a sly smile at that.
Jack rubbed his chin and suppressed a chuckle. Cooperation among allies was not his primary concern here. Not at all.
“Yes,” Betty said in a pleased tone. “Cooperation of course. Well then, prepare to have your mind blown.” She chuckled. “I’m told I’m very good at that.”
“From vhat I see today, I vould believe it, fraulein.”
Betty smiled at Jack. “See? He knows how to talk nice to a girl,” she mouthed towards him.
Jack rolled his eyes. “Look, this is fun and all, but ve really….” Jack cleared his throat as Betty laughed at him. “We really need to get…somewhere,” he finished, at a loss for words.
The German laughed, a deep guttural laugh that would have made a row of beer steins, Honest to God German beer steins, clatter against each other on a shelf. “No vorries for you,” he finally said. “Ve are carrying you to battle site. Your fleet can pick you up there. You did not fail as the Flottillenadmiral expected. Ve are pleased to fly vith you vhenewer ve get more chances.”
“Great. Ve…” Jack cleared his throat and glared at Betty as she laughed on the console. “We didn’t fail. So glad to know we had such a low bar to pass.”
“Vell, as I said, ve vill be happy to fly vith you again. After you
are all presentable of course.”
“Of course,” Betty said with a smile. “Thank you for your consideration.”
“Always, fraulein,” he said in a very earnest tone.
“He is such a nice guy,” Betty mouthed and Jack brought a hand up to rub his forehead. He had the feeling that this was going to be a long day.
Hello, my name is Jack. I grew up in a world where cybers were real. I never doubted their intelligence, but I did doubt their emotions. Deep down, I guess I thought the cybers projected them so we would feel more at ease with them. I thought they were just better AIs. I was wrong. They feel loss just like we do. Let me tell you, loss is real hard to deal with when you were literally born to be with that person.
Loss
Hyperspace spread out as far as the eye could see, which wasn’t far as it turned out. In the distance, rainbow-hued clouds cut off everything Jack could see. Closer to the smashed Avenger he waited in, the clouds became rivers and waves of light, roiling across his vision in a never-ending game of tag. Or maybe it was hide-and-seek. He never could tell what it was gravity did in hyperspace.
A German fighter hovered just above them, its gravitic drive holding the chaos at bay from both fighters as it pulled them towards where the Guardian Light waited for them. The kilometer-long white spire of a warship commanded his own bastion of order in the chaos, and Jack felt the Avenger shudder as she crossed into it. The German fighter released his hold on the Avenger and they began to float towards the battleship until the multi-colored hue of hyperspace gave way to the bright white light of the Guardian Light’s hanger bay. Jack squinted and kept his eyes on the German fighter still flying next to them. Three smashed Cowboys already rested on the deck, as did their German rescuers, and Jack held on as Hal pulled them in on waves of gravity, landing them on the deck as soft as a baby’s bottom.
Betty smiled and the canopy opened. She kept her yellow sundress on, as she always did on the battleship, and jumped out, growing to her full one hundred and fifty-centimeters on the way down. Jack unhooked his restraints, stood up, and looked over the side of the cockpit to where the ladder should be. That part of the hull was burnt off.
“Hal?” Jack asked with a wave towards the damaged area.
“Just jump,” Hal answered in a resigned tone.
Jack smiled, stepped out of the cockpit, and jumped off the fighter. He landed on the grav wave prepared for him, turned, and rode it down to the deck. “Thanks, man,” he said and turned to the German fighter that had brought them down just in time to see Betty jumping into the arms of the German pilot and his cyber.
“My heroes!” she announced, arms wrapped around their necks, legs hanging down to where her feet ended some thirty centimeters above the deck.
The Germans blushed, and Jack brought a hand up to rub his jaw, conveniently covering the amused smile on his face. “I love you,” he whispered under his breath, shook his head, and assumed a jaunty gait towards them. It was amazing just to be alive.
He spread his arms out wide and gave them his best charming smile. “I’d offer my thanks too, but it appears to me you’re already occupied.”
“Ve understand!” the pilot shouted, his voice muffled by Betty’s shoulder. “I settle for good beer. No American sheisse!”
Jack laughed at that. “Man, these Peloran have some of the best beer I’ve ever tasted!”
“Easy for American to say,” the German growled back.
“Oh no!” Betty shouted and dropped to the deck, spinning to look up at a fighter entering the hanger bay.
Jack followed her gaze and his mouth gapped at the sight of Cowboy Eight. The Avenger hung limp in the gravity waves, the one wing he could see simply gone. The nose was smashed back into the fuselage like a giant punched it. Where the cockpit should be, it was all wreckage.
“Oh frak,” Jack whispered.
“Sheisse,” the German muttered.
Betty ran towards the fighter, along with the other Cowboy cybers, and surrounded Cowboy Eight’s cyber as she stumbled out of the fighter.
Jasmine. Her name was Jasmine. A low, unending, heartbreaking keen of grief came from her.
Jack watched the Cowboy pilots go back and forth between wanting to help, and turning away, not wanting to intrude on her pain. Not wanting to hear her grieving. The Germans, pilots and cybers alike, took several steps back, not wanting to be close to the display. Nobody wanted to be close to the reminder that everybody died, sooner or later.
Her heartbreaking sobs echoed across the hangar bay and Jack almost left. He didn’t want to see this either. He didn’t want to hear, either her grief or her babbling. He looked over to where Hal stood, watching with profound sorrow written on his face. Jack sighed. They had a clean word for what happened to cybers when their pilots died. It should have happened already. He didn’t know why it hadn’t, but it would if someone didn’t do something. Maybe she just didn’t want to. Jack shook his head, set his teeth, and walked over to the group of cybers.
He moved through their ranks, feeling the feathery touches of the holograms as they made way for the pilot in their midst. He stopped next to where Betty held Jasmine in a hug and touched Jasmine on the shoulder. She spun away from Betty, reaching for the one person there that felt like her pilot. “Why!” Jasmine screamed with tears streaming down her face and began to hit him again and again. Her holographic form couldn’t do much more than lightly tap him, but he felt the pain behind those punches like a knife.
Jack wrapped her up and pulled her in tight. She gave up on her phantom assault and wrapped her arms around him in a desperate hug, burying her face in his shoulder. Jack met Betty’s gaze and she gave him a proud smile before wrapping her arms around Jasmine again. Jack stood there, surrounded by the feather touches of cybers, and wondered at just how odd this was.
There was a stereotype of Minnesotans being friendly but reserved. Most people said it was the Scandinavian influence. Usually people just nodded or waved at each other. If you were friends, you might shake hands. If you were really good friends, a back slapping hug might be in order for guys, or a soft but quick shoulder hug for girls. You didn’t touch people for long, if at all, in public.
There were some exceptions of course. Teenagers and young adults were expected to be a little more wild. Some close dancing, girls sitting on their man’s laps, and other similar actions, but those were primarily limited to the parties they went to, and if it happened at the malls or other gathering holes they frequented, the adults generally turned a blind eye. In proper culture though, even the “kids” were expected to act with more decorum. At most you might see them walking hand in hand at the Church Potluck for instance.
And then there were the emotional outbursts. A proper Minnesotan emotional outburst was a grunt or nod of approval. If it was really good, you might even get some applause. But if the Pastor wanted an Amen from the congregation, he had to ask for it because otherwise they were respectful enough not to interrupt him. Emotions beyond being happy and welcoming, which one should be with everybody, were only indulged in the privacy of the home. Nobody wanted to see you blubbering like a fool over your poor deceased dog.
In International Falls, where outsiders came for water sports and beach parties three months of the year, ice fishing, hockey, and other ice-themed sports six months of the year, and the locals spent the rest of the time preparing for the next season, the rules were more relaxed. And Jack had spent most of his life getting around even those that remained. Despite that, it still felt decidedly out of his comfort zone to be standing in a public hangar bay, where everybody on the ship could see him, holding a girl blubbering all over his uniform. That the girl in question was a feather-light cyber, her hologram barely registering enough for him to hold her if he didn’t squeeze too hard, was just one more added oddity. And then there were the cybers surrounding them, their feather-light touches all over him. And for added weirdness, even though she was obviously sobbing, his uniform was utterly dry.<
br />
All in all, it easily made Jack’s “Top Ten Weird Crap That has Happened to Me” list by an easy margin.
“What am I going to do?” Jasmine blubbered into his shoulder, still holding onto the only flesh and blood human that would come to her. Massive sobs wracked her frame.
Jack met Betty’s eyes. She looked down, not looking hopeful at all. Jack pursed his lips. Cybers rarely survived their pilots by much, but Jasmine was still here. That meant…something. He just wish he knew what that was.
Jack patted her shoulder soft enough that he wouldn’t push through her projection. He shook his head and looked at Betty. She nodded at him. He sighed, and asked the only thing that came to mind. “I’m sorry.”
Jasmine sniffed and pushed her head against his shoulder. “It…it hurts. What do I do?”
Jack sighed and shook his head as things came into place. “A lot of us don’t do,” he whispered. “I know when the Shang hit Yosemite Yards I had it real bad for a while. Family gone, and a lot of girls I should have made family. I dreamed about them every night.” Jack shrugged. “And every day I asked myself how I could live without ’em.”
Jasmine sniffed and raised her head to look him in the eye. “How did you?”
Jack cleared his throat, removing a suspicious frog from his throat. “Well, after a few days I decided I was going to kill everyone responsible for killing ’em. And if I couldn’t find ’em, I’d just settle for killin’ every damn Shang in the universe. That kept me going for a while.” He looked at Betty and smiled. She smiled back. “Then I found Betty and….” Her smile softened.
Jasmine sniffed and buried her face back into his shoulder. “That’s what Drew said,” she whispered. “But what about me?” Her voice broke on the last word and she shuddered in his arms.
Jack pursed his lips and let out a long breath before answering. “I can’t tell you. We all have to find our own reasons to live, if that is what we want to do. We all have to decide who or what we want to live for. And if we don’t…well then we might as well not live at all.”
Forge of War (Jack of Harts) Page 16
