by Reiter
“Damn straight, and it’s on my ship!” Jocasta snapped. “So if anyone has a say in what goes where and why, it’s me, got it?! Now stand down or name your pallbearers!” Jocasta looked briefly at her brace-com and it beeped. Goggles formed over her eyes with a red reading laser over her left eye. The lead man moved his hand away from his gun and signaled for the others to stop.
“No one’s arguing that it’s your ship,” the man spoke in a softer tone. “… but this is our station and we all have jobs to do.”
Jocasta relaxed slightly and stepped back from the men. “So let me do mine first.
“Tuitonn, I think I know why that stabilizer felt out of whack,” Jocasta thought.
“Forgive me,” Tuitonn quickly projected. “You mentioned it, but I didn’t run a diagnostic to confirm your suspicions.”
“Live and learn, T-Ball,” she thought, walking to the starboard side of her ship. “And since I have my goggles up…” Touching another control on the brace-com, Jocasta initiated a scan that quickly focused on a large mass tucked into the manifold just under the starboard stabilizer. Jocasta gasped when she discovered the mass had eyes. Though she never stopped her approach, Jocasta did remove her goggles.
“Well hello up there,” she said softly. “You friend or foe?”
“Brother!” The voice was not soft, but it was still gentle, reserved, and Jocasta recognized the sort of gurgling sound that came with it. The first thing she could see clearly was a three-toed foot at the end of a lone, muscular, silver-skinned leg.
“You!” Jocasta whispered in awe, looking up at the frame of a fellow flyer she had raced in the tunnels of the Slip-Stream.
“It’s a Slip Shrike!” one of the men yelled as he reached for his shoulder-strapped projectile rifle. The butt of the rifle burst into pieces as he brought it from his back. Each of the men jumped in surprise.
“You draw on my brother, you draw on me!” Jocasta said, holstering her pistol. The reddish purple eyes of the Shrike looked down at Jocasta. They closed as he moved close to her, taking in her scent. “What are you doing here?” Jocasta asked as she gently stroked the side of his beak.
“Race,” he said, opening his wings that were an impressive eight and a half meters from tip to tip. Jocasta watched the ends of each hair strand begin to glow as she laughed and shook her head.
“What’s your name?” What she received in response to her question could not be regarded as human conversation. It was concluded by a strong high-pitched cry and a flapping of his wings. Jocasta laughed as she put her hand on his chest to calm him.
“Well, I’m going to call you Trubble, because that’s what you are. Nothing but trouble.” Jocasta smiled when he laughed and then proceeded to spell out the word for him. “I’ll call you Trub for short.
“Trub,” he replied, nuzzling her face with his forehead.
“And your timing is crummy!” Jocasta added. “I’ve got business here… non-flying business and I don’t know how long–” Trubble called out his name before shrieking, opening his wings and taking flight. “And you’re not much of a talker. Good!
“Don’t get any suicidal ideas, boys,” Jocasta said, looking over her shoulder.
“Do you know what those things can do?” one of the men asked.
“Right now he’s flying and as long I have a say, and a blaster, he flies free.”
“Sounds like a good enough reason to me,” an old voice declared. Jocasta turned to see a janitor pushing his cart. He was beyond old; bent of back but strong of shoulder and legs. He pushed his cart up close to the Daedalus and looked up at it, smiling. “You’re a custom job, aren’t you boy? High speed and low drag. Is Momma good to you?” he asked, taking out his cleaning materials.
“Hey, Flaps,” one of the men called out. “You’re running a little late, aren’t you?” Jocasta turned and looked at the man who was speaking as he and his friends fell into laughter. “Took a minute getting off your throne, didn’t it? Sure hope you used your bathroom this time.” Jocasta’s eyes squinted together as the transport driver started toward the old man.
“Leave him,” Jocasta commanded.
“I thought you said–”
“Get gone… now!” The driver looked at Jocasta, but not for long. He signaled for the others to get into the transport and he quickly drove off. Jocasta turned to look at the man. “Sorry about that.”
“Oh, I don’t pay them any mind, Missy,” the man waved them off. “They’re young and full of juice! World’s not leveled out for them just yet. Hard to have a direction when the world ain’t level. The name’s Flaps.”
“Oh, that really is your name!” Jocasta said, quite surprised.
“All good pilots go by their call-sign,” the old man replied, turning to show Jocasta his chest and the silvery white wings he had pinned to his lapel.
“Yeah, but whoever said you were good?” Jocasta said with a gentle smile. She and the old one shared laughter as Jocasta could hear another vehicle approach. She turned and saw a hover car quickly approaching. “And I think this is my ride.”
“You go ahead, I’ve got your boy,” the old man said, waving her off. “You keep a strong stick!”
“I will, Flaps. And thanks.” Jocasta turned and walked toward the nose of her ship, gently stroking the side as she walked. “Stay safe, boy… Momma will be back when she can.” Reaching the side of the Daedalus just under the cockpit, Jocasta climbed up to the open canopy as a customized hover-car came to a stop. She recognized the driver and smiled.
“Might have to get my monitors checked too,” she thought, looking at Reynold Fieldsmith. “… ‘cuz tall, dark, and oh, please hurt me is all kinds of better looking in the real!” Jocasta reached in and took out her coat. With cane in hand, she jumped down. Reynold did not take his eyes off of her fighter-craft.
“That is one serious piece of hardware,” he commented. “He or she?”
“His name is Daedalus. That would be a hard sell for a girl , dontcha think? No, wait. Guys do that all the time!”
“All the time!” Reynold nodded. “Still trying to wrap my head around a ‘she’ called Enterprise.”
“Now on that one, I have to say I get it,” Jocasta said as she put on her coat. “When you think of all the lumps that name’s had to take… it makes sense to call it a she.”
Reynold frowned and pointed at Jocasta. “You have enough artillery there?”
“What, these old things? This is a sign that a crew loves their Captain. I’m surprised they didn’t pack a power suit in the hold!” Jocasta started toward the car, but then stopped. “Wait. I didn’t check the hold.” Reynold laughed as he got out of the car, walked around it and opened the door for Jocasta. “Oh my!” she sarcastically gushed, “Good looks and manners? Where’s the nearest church?”
Reynold laughed again and got back into the car. “You sound like you’re going to fit right in here. After the buzz-mill that’s been going around here the past few days, that’s good to hear. Glad I got in on the pool where I did.” The hover-car pulled off and Jocasta immediately knew she was dealing with a pilot. The speed at which he drove, the turns he made, all were indicative of a person who was eager to get where they were going.
While gliding along the pavement, Reynold disengaged the forward drive and then turned the wheel. With a hover-car that mean the car would turn, but it would still glide along the same direction. Once the vehicle was aligned to where it appeared they were moving backwards, Reynold re-engaged forward thrust which brought the car to a halt just before it could hit the wall of a parking slot. Neither one of them spoke as Reynold got out of the car. Jocasta moved like she was reaching for the door to follow him when he made a very awkward noise and held up his hand.
“Don’t make me shoot you on your first day! Hands off!”
“Sorry!” Jocasta exclaimed, holding her hands up. Reynold opened her door and she got out. “Oh, this is going to be fun. You don’t find many gentlemen who are also lunat
ic drivers.”
“Not as many as you’d think, no,” Reynold agreed. “This way to the elevators, if you please.”
“Am I allowed to touch it?”
“You can touch anything you like,” he told her as he walked alongside. “You’re a big girl, or at least you should be. Surely by now you’ve grasped the concept of consequences!”
They walked toward a large column that hummed with all of the power that was running through it. It was a little over fifty meters wide and they walked around it, toward the center of the platform. Coming around the mammoth construct, Jocasta was able to see the columns came in pairs and there was a fairly large booth situated in-between them.
“We’re going to cut across to the other shaft,” Reynold said as he walked in front of the booth. Jocasta saw five heavily armed and armoured people inside. The female who appeared to be in charge looked up from her work, made eye contact with Reynold, and smiled, giving him a nod before she returned her attention to her duties. She touched a button on the pad she held and Jocasta could hear a soft beeping noise coming from the shaft they were approaching. Looking at the opposite lift, she could see something in the neighborhood of ten people waiting for the next lift-car. The massive doors opened on the column they were approaching and Reynold did not break from his stride as he walked inside. The doors closed and they began their ascent.
“You’re pretty quiet,” Reynold commented, folding his arms. “Don’t tell me you’re intimidated by all of this.”
“If I did, I’d be lying,” she returned. “No, I guess you could say that I’m taking it all in. Given my last flight instructor, this is bit more pomp than I expected; it’s dressy, kind of flashy, but no, not intimidating.”
“About that, the instructor part I mean… would you mind if I were to ask you about that?”
“More buzz-mill?”
“You would not believe how much,” Reynold stated. “So, do you mind?”
“A man should be able to ask any question he likes,” Jocasta said as the walls of the shaft gave way to a transparent fortification. She smiled up at the big, blue, beautiful sky. “Whether you get an answer or not… well, you have grasped the concept of consequences.”
“Touché!” Reynold smiled.
“So, give me the abridged ten-credit tour,” Jocasta requested without taking her eyes off the sky.
“Actually, it’s twenty-five credits,” Reynold corrected as he leaned against the wall. “… and you’d be surprised at the size of the waiting list.”
“Ooohhh, tough man talk using the word ‘size’!” Jocasta forced her body to shiver as she smiled. “I am all aflutter!”
“I bet,” Reynold returned, looking Jocasta over once more. “But, milady has made a request, I shall see to it as much as I can.
“If the Star-Wing Corps were to ever claim a home, Sky Stone would be that place,” Reynold started. “Where you parked is called the Basement, and it holds storage and training facilities for the lower crust.” The view of the sky was suddenly replaced with rock and tunneling. “You have to love timing,” Reynold said with a grin. “Above the Basement is Sky Stone Academy. Classrooms, simulators, and proving grounds for learning how to be the best kind of pilot the Rims has ever seen! The First Wing Corps is housed there too, along with one of the best military spaceports in existence.”
“Spoken like a true graduate,” Jocasta remarked.
“You better believe it.”
“And on top of Sky Stone?”
“That would be the Loft,” Reynold replied. “The best of the best live, train, and administrate from there.”
“I see, so the teachers are actually angels that descend down to the mortals to grace them with their brilliance,” Jocasta said, forcing another shiver.
“I’d watch that attitude if I were you,” Reynold warned.
“You think I’d leave the watching to you?” Jocasta shot back, though it quickly became clear that her escort did not understand her point. “You ever been to the Loft, Fieldsmith?”
“I told you I was a Flight Officer of the Star-Wing Corps.”
“That you did,” Jocasta said softly.
“Okay, he’s right!” Jocasta thought as she gripped her cane tightly. “Dammit it all to gobbledygook, he’s freakin’ right… again!”
“Who’s right, Mistress?” Tuitonn asked.
“Z! And I swear by the Stars not even born I will never say that to his face!”
“Might I inquire as to what he was right about?” Tuitonn asked, keeping the essence of joviality from his voice.
“This whole ‘listen and allow things to come to you’ bull-Kot,” she admitted. “I don’t have to ask Fieldsmith where he hails from. His name is so Old Earth, he’s probably Truebreed, and with his tendency to impress himself and use the word elevator instead of lift, most likely a former Ardrian Starfighter Pilot.
“I see,” Tuitonn said.
“Plus, this gorgeous ass wannabe’s never been to the Loft,” she concluded. “The way he talked about the spaceport inside Sky Stone versus the way he worded his description of the Loft. He has practical experience with one, he’s only heard of the other!”
“If it means anything to you, Z will never hear of this from me,” Tuitonn offered.
“Means more to you than me,” Jocasta thought as the lift-car came to a stop. “It’s not like I can’t hand you over to the Brain Trust so they can find your melting point!” Following Reynold’s lead, Jocasta stepped out of the lift into a sizeable reception area. Three people seemed to be waiting for her arrival, and Jocasta was relieved to recognize one of them.
“Snow!” she said as she upped her pace and walked more quickly up to the woman she had met at the Stick & Rudder. She held out her arms as she approached.
“So glad you could make it,” the older woman said as they embraced.
One of the two remaining figures looked away from the scene and sighed. “Actually, she is late!” Alistair Codges was a restrained man; some had said perhaps he was too restrained. The golden blonde color that had once been his had all but faded to a dull brown, but his eyes remained a steel gray. One particular place where his restraint had served him well was the seat of a starfighter. It was said that he made no mistakes and wore down his opponents, shaving off their reserves of talent until they were squarely in his sights. What little light and mirth the man possessed outside of a starfighter left him the moment he drew focus on Jocasta. He had heard many stories about the woman, and since most of them had come from Snow, he had been inclined to believe them.
“Actually, she is JoJo Starblazer,” Jocasta said, offering Codges her hand. Only after a moment did he take it and he was surprised at the strength of her grip.
“Lieutenant Alistair Codges,” he replied. “And you’re still late.”
“And you’re still ugly and old,” Jocasta shot back. “… two things that only seem to be getting worse for you.”
“JoJo,” Snow called, softly scolding the younger woman.
“Careful, pirate!” Alistair warned. “You think yourself a flyer, but I’ve plucked many of your kind from the skies!”
“Calamity!” Snow said more sharply.
“Is that right, Gus? You’re that good a pilot?”
“That is very right, scum!”
“And just what good does that do you here and now?!” Jocasta hissed as she leaned in close. Eugenia started to speak, but she caught a signal from Sarshata, waving off the pilot’s reaction.
Jocasta’s eyes cut into Alistair’s as she released his hand. “Your move, Grandpa!” Alistair Codges’ eyes tightened as he took inventory of the weapons the woman wore. Her cane was in her left hand, the length of it pressed against the elbow-side of her arm and the head pointed at the ground. She knew how to fight, and despite her threatening tone she was ready to move defensively.
“No one is going to move,” Sarshata finally spoke, and both of the officers that had spoken took a step back, lowering their hea
ds and looking to the ground.
“Now this is what I expected,” Jocasta thought looking at an attractive woman who strode forward wearing high-heeled boots that barely made any noise as she walked. The cut of her black skirt left her right leg completely bare, and a length of black and white fur was wrapped around her shoulders. The pirate could see that it was fancily dressed armour and as she drew closer, Jocasta could smell her perfume. She braced herself, as every time she had taken in that particular scent, it was always worn too heavily. That was not the case with the black-haired woman. She was slender, but by no means skinny, and Jocasta kept herself from licking her lips as she examined the woman’s curves.
“Greetings, JoJo Starblazer,” the woman said as her mahogany brown eyes stared into Jocasta’s. “You are quite right to be defensive. You were not given a time to be here… how then can you be considered late? I, for one, am glad you have reached us. My name is Sarshata Ravinguez, rank of Commander, call-sign Swan, and Commandant of Sky Stone. You are most welcome!”
“Thank you, Commander Ravinguez,” Jocasta said softly as she relaxed from her sideward stance.
“It is our season of testing hopefuls,” Sarshata explained. “We call it the Ozone.”
“I can get with that,” Jocasta replied.
“Lieutenant Calamity doesn’t respond well to dashing the dreams of the incredible numbers that fail to keep their place. But the season has not yet passed. Surely one of your skills will be able to pass our Initiate tests in the two days left to us. If not, you can simply return in six months to–”
“I’ll go ahead and take the tests now, if that’s alright with you,” Jocasta interrupted.
“It is quite alight with me,” Sarshata smiled and nodded. “F.O. Fieldsmith, please see our latest guest to her room. I’ll advise the taskmasters that we have one more for the Ozone. Good luck, JoJo.”
“And here I thought I was going to like you,” Jocasta sighed as she stepped back toward Reynold.
“Have I offended you somehow?”
“Keep your luck, Commander,” Jocasta replied, stepping back three more strides before she started to turn. “That’s not how I got here… it’s not what’ll get me to the Loft... not what’s gonna get me to the horizon after that!”
