by Reiter
I love to see a young girl go out and grab the world by the lapels. Life’s a bitch. You’ve got to go out and kick ass.
Maya Angelou
(Rims Time: XII-4204.18)
Jocasta stepped out of her room at a fairly good clip. She was not running, but she was also not walking slowly. Getting to the end of the corridor, she moved to the side of the lift tube and jumped over the railing. Head first she dropped down the side of the tube at an angle that would eventually put her on a floor. Her cane reached the ground before she did, and the gravity column slowed her body to where she landed on the railing and reached for her cane as she stepped down to the floor.
“You don’t make it easy, do you?” a hooded man asked, coming away from the tube. Jocasta turned to make sure she was the one who had been addressed. “Do you know how many strings I had to pull to lock down the lift? I’m going to catch utter hell and for what?”
“The price you pay for making bad assumptions?” Jocasta offered before smiling. “Listen, I’m always a girl who giggles at the extra attention, but I’ve got to get to class.”
“No,” the man replied. “You’re out of class and no, I’m not trying to use some head game. After that last head-to-head performance, Swan said it was time to put you through it.”
“I got smoked on the last hop,” Jocasta said, wincing. “Everybody did.”
“Is that all you noticed?” the man asked.
“No. I also picked up on how well the seats in those trainer-rigs respond to the ass-clinching of the pilots.”
“You were up longer than anyone,” the man added, and Jocasta was beginning to like his cool and low tones. “It was five on one, Silverwing. You’re not supposed to win. The question is how and when you lose.”
“That should be ‘questions are’,” Jocasta corrected. “Just saying. Because of you people I’m spending more time with my Chief Engineer and I think I’m getting this grammar thing down.”
“And ‘just saying’?”
“Hey, it’s a work in progress,” Jocasta defended before she remembered. “What about Double Duty? He got in more hits than I did.”
“Yes he did,” the man agreed. “Was always wondering when we’d get a bird man in here,” the man said as he started walking away, signaling for Jocasta to follow.
The Hedaji were a humanoid race that was often called wingless birds. They had feathers instead of hair and their bones were harder than the normal sort, but they were effectively hollow. making them lighter and sturdier than humans. As far as flying, most of their kind had a passion for it, but it seldom went beyond the atmospheric sort. Routhar Fairwind was the first Hedaji to get through Ozone and felt he had a responsibility to his people, thus the call-sign Double Duty. Jocasta was not put off by the laconic man. His piloting said everything she wanted to know about him, and out of the class of five, he was the only one Jocasta could be found talking to.
“You need to be focused on you right now. After pressing five Star-Wings to a near four-minute engagement, Swan made the call to put you into what we call Free Fall. Where little hatchlings are pushed out of the nest to see if they can fly. You’ve got one of three results: you fall and you’re marked down as a Cadet. You spread your wings and fly, you’re a Corpsman. Or you soar and you become an Elite. Got it?”
“Got it,” Jocasta answered.
“Around here, they call me Cavern,” the man said as he slowly unfolded his arms, moving his hand to his hood.
“Cavern?” Jocasta repeated. “You’re Snow’s Point Man! Top floor at the Stick & Rudder.”
“Guilty on all counts,” he replied, removing his hood. Jocasta took a step back, immediately recognizing the curves of his slender face, the depth and power of his blue-eyed gaze. “… and judging from your reaction, the claims that have been made as to who taught you are true.”
“Polished more so than taught,” Jocasta corrected, still catching her breath. “I didn’t walk up to the man not knowing what to do with a stick.”
“Gifted in the skills of flight, that I’ll give you,” the man said as he looked her over. “I can feel a breeze coming off of you right now. You yearn for the speed, the heights… and the challenge! Dangerous combination, Silverwing.”
“Didn’t know that counseling was part of Free Fall,” Jocasta remarked. Her eyes locked on his and they did not waver even as his turned from blue to gray. “Or did I get the bonus package by getting around your delaying tactic?”
“There’s fear in her,” the man thought. “But it’s not me she’s afraid of! Have to thank Swan for calling me in on this one!”
“What relation do you have to Spade?” she asked.
“None,” the man replied. “My name is Xoron Rexur Dragonne. Spade is a clone of Shade, my grandfather, though he is more commonly referred to as Alphexeous.”
“My Lord,” Jocasta said, bowing deeply, surprising the aged Elite.
“Why do you bow?”
“Just following my instincts,” she said, standing up. “Can we get to it?”
“Aye, that we can do!”
Though he might have implied that the final examination of the Star-Wing was a single event, Cavern took Jocasta through a series of exercises, and not all of them were physical. She especially enjoyed his form of meditation: Free Running. The rocky cliffs of Sky Stone became their sanctuary as he taught Jocasta to get into a rhythm that only movement could give her; the higher and faster, the deeper the meditation.
Xoron had never seen a Cadet with Jocasta’s sense of balance and coordination. He sought to make the most of it, pushing her in ways that he would push himself, daring to begin building something that he knew would not be a welcomed notion among his fellow Elites. He had respect for who and what they were, but the fact that they seemed to be waiting for Time and Fate to finally make claim to his soul turned his stomach, and he would not simply leave the mantle of Star-Wing Ace to be inherited.
“This woman is gifted!” he thought, watching Jocasta move in near-perfect harmony. The fluidity of her body was remarkable. “You were right to send her to us.”
“I’m glad you approve,” Beta-Alphexeous projected. “I had half a mind not to endorse her. I didn’t know how you–”
“No, Soul Fighter,” Xoron interrupted. “I know at one time I did everything but accept you as part of my life. Time is a very direct instructor. You’re not a copy of my grandfather. Not anymore. You might have been the moment you opened your eyes. You are Spade, Soul Fighter and Corpsman.
“Speaking of alliances, why didn’t you recruit JoJo?”
“You’re right, Xoron, I’m not your grandfather, but I started out with his mindset, and the small changes I’ve made don’t really amount to that much. One of the things I decided to keep: the respect of special. You don’t change the path of a Nexeous, or a Chiaro… and you damn sure don’t mess with a Zeu Rex. I had two reasons to keep manipulative hands off the woman: you call them JoJo and Z… and in that order.”
Xoron continued to watch JoJo meditate and a smirk formed on his face. He knew that barring an implosion of some kind, the woman was going to be Star-Wing. He rolled up his sleeve and looked down at his left forearm, smiling at the markings on his person.
It was then that the man received a message over his brace-com. It read: If you are truly interested in accelerating things, I have the very device you could use. Simulators that can link you, mind-to-mind… if you would dare! Simple ask JoJo to introduce you to her ship.
Looking at his student, a very evil grin slowly crept across Xoron’s face. “Screw it!” he muttered, rolling down his sleeve. “Full speed ahead!”
** b *** t *** o *** r **
(Rims Time: XII-4204.22)
Four days. Jocasta had logged a total of eight hours of sleep, but she was not tired and did not appear to be the least bit fatigued. She had found a new love, and it had become her sustenance and means of recuperation.
Xoron was a most able instructor and never waver
ed in intensity or pacing, pouring everything he knew of the Star-Wing into her. When she could not see him, the Soul Fighter was allowed to smile at the living sponge that was showing no signs of ‘leveling off’. She exceled at the sparring runs and was a most attentive student when he lectured her on processes and perspectives.
The one-to-one classroom setting allowed him to be more conversational, and Silverwing was anything but inhibited. She posed questions, offered counterpointes and argued efficacy wherever she found the opportunity… and all of it passed at the Speed of Thought. Nearly all of it.
“What the hell are we doing in here?!” Jocasta inquired, looking around at all of the gigantic conduits and power junction boxes. She could feel the electricity in the air, but there was something else to the area that she could not ascertain.
“We gotta start somewhere,” Xoron answered. “This is as good a place as any. Aahhh, here we are.” Xoron stopped in front of a reader-junction. Without the need for any wires, electricity jumped from the feeder ports to the receiver ports. Two lines were steady but the other ten feeders fired only briefly to a receiver and not always the same one. Xoron directed Jocasta to stand in front of the grid as he stood to the side of it. He waited, looking at the woman as she examined the grid. He could tell she was feeling something, and he wanted to see how far her instincts would take her. She closed her eyes and held out her right hand. One of the feeder ports opened but did not activate. Eventually, Jocasta slowly lowered her hand and opened her eyes, looking at her instructor.
“Sorry about that,” she said, feeling slightly embarrassed.
“Your faith in isn’t good enough, Silverwing,” Xoron stated. “It needs to be at least half of what your First Mate thinks of you. I’ll give you a cheat code. Do you believe in him?”
“Of course!”
“And does he believe in you?” Xoron quickly asked and Jocasta pressed her lips together before relaxing them and swallowing air.
“I think I get your point,” she admitted.
“So glad I didn’t have to show you the playback of your Ozone Graduation as proof,” Xoron said, holding out his hand. “Damn near brought tears to my eyes.
“For this part though, I need you without your net and your guards. Give me the sexy choker and the brace-com.”
Jocasta’s head tilted to the side, hearing what had been asked of her. “Current course is one seven nine, mark zero five six. Come around port to two seven five mark two five five.” Xoron smirked and assumed the position of holding on to two sticks. He moved his hands quickly and when he stopped, Jocasta smiled, called into Satithe to advise her of the removal of the equipment from her person, and handed her teacher what he had requested.
“Because the chances of an assassin knowing the sticks is pretty minimal, right?” Xoron grinned as he received the requested items.
“And know them that fast?!” Jocasta returned. “No, not likely.” She turned and faced the grid as more feeders fired, casting blue light over her body. “So what am I doing here?”
“We’re maintaining our current course,” Xoron explained. “We started this trip on a different note… can’t go back to run-of-the-mill techniques now.”
“I hope my blue man didn’t mess you up too much,” Jocasta grinned.
“Enough to make me envy you for the rest of your life with him,” Xoron replied. “He pushes you.”
“He pushes the crapstack Stars!” Jocasta declared.
“Don’t doubt it. But let’s get back to pushing you,” Xoron announced. “I expect to be out of the norm, lady. If you do anything less than shine, I need it to be because you failed me, not the other way around.”
“Now that’s taking cover your ass to a whole new level!” she exclaimed. “That’s some Zen-styled CYA right there.”
“So it is. Let’s begin. What you’re standing in front of is both a riddle and a guide to the last step. You’re here to learn about the one very special thing that separates a Star-Wing from any other sort of Ace. You’ve seen it… you’ve felt it… hell, you even tried to track it down and stumbled across what we have protecting it. Now, I’m asking you to unlock it, JoJo. Being an Ace here means you’re mastering the three P’s: Precision, Pride, and Power.”
“Nothing about perception?” Jocasta ribbed as she gazed at the flowing electricity. “I’ve got a blue notion that screams out about perception.”
“How the hell do you think you learn how to become precise?” Xoron asked rhetorically. “What do you call it when a blind man learns how to navigate a room?”
“Oh, I can’t wait to use that one!” she whispered.
“Now’s not the time to be afraid of who you are, JoJo,” Xoron said, folding his arms as Jocasta closed her eyes. Her mind was opening, but he knew he could not invade her thoughts. He had been in the company of many PsyondaRs who did not know how to do both simultaneously. Here was this Cadet doing it with ease, like she had done it all her life. “Don’t back off again.”
“Again?”
“You were going with a feeling when you first walked up to the grid,” he reminded her. “Why did you stop? Why did you lower your hand? When I tell you to not be afraid of who you are, you need to recognize that the answer can’t be a fixed definition. It’s always changing, which means a part of you is labeled ‘I don’t know’. Don’t worry… after this riddle there’ll be plenty of others. Life isn’t allowed to be boring for too long.”
“It’s a riddle and guide,” she thought. “I like this guy, but damn he made this riddle easy. Then again, maybe he doesn’t know I have a Z. Can’t hold that against him.
“Still, if this thing’s a guide, it’s also part of the answer,” Jocasta reasoned. “And it has to do with that special Star-Wing thing.” Her mind recalled sitting beside Fonri as he drove her in the hover-car. Z had showed her the scans of that trip. With the make of the vehicle, they were moving out faster than they should have been able to. They had traveled faster than Jocasta had been able to get any of the hover-cars to move. “The Eye!” she recalled. “That’s what the Dragons called it. That’s gotta be the thing feeding the ability to the Corpsmen. And this is a guide to it. But how?” Reaching out with her thoughts, Jocasta was able to find the room she and Dungias had been brought to and attacked. Up from that chamber, however… that was where she found something she could not see, only feel.
Jocasta opened her eyes and looked on the grid. Her hands came away from her sides, extending out toward the grid. Again the action caused an immediate reaction in the machine, but more than one feeder port opened. Xoron leaned forward to move and get his student away from the grid before she could cook herself. A familiar force touched him, feeling like a soft hand to his chest.
“Let it happen, Cavern,” Spade projected. “This is why I gave her my marker!”
“I know what you are,” Jocasta said as two large streams of electricity fired into her left hand, three more lashed out for her right. “You’re the reason for the pulse. You tell the heart to beat, the lungs to push and pull, the muscles to contract and relax.” Electricity flew from her fingertips to the receiver ports, and Xoron was satisfied and amazed in the same stroke. There were going to be some rather interesting surprises happening over Sky Stone right now. Lights were going to shine brighter, and ovens were going to incinerate foods.
“And if someone’s charging a weapon?” Xoron considered and he quickly put his hand on the junction box, rerouting the power to emergency capacitors and storage batteries. “Whew! Well, at least the reserve units are going to be primed for a while.”
Jocasta stepped back from the grid and looked at her hands. Her eyes were a brighter shade of blue and she was on the verge of cackling with delight. “Machines are bodies! Whether they run on electricity, steam, tri-nuclear… it doesn’t matter! They all have a pulse. The Eye helps you to tap into the pulse and increase the power.
“And now I’ve got a blue notion that says if you can give, you can take,” Jocasta added
, “… slowing down their process, dampening amplitudes, and maybe even shutting them down altogether!”
“Okay, that normally takes longer,” Xoron thought. “I hear you, Spade. Believe me, I hear you!
“You ready to give it a whirl in the moving-pieces world?” he asked.
Jocasta blurted a soft blast of laughter. “Just try and stop me!”
** b *** t *** o *** r **
“Well, careful what you wish for,” Jocasta said as the door to her room closed behind her. She took off her gloves and stuffed them into the pockets of her class jacket before taking it off and hanging it up. “Cuz damn if they didn’t stop me!” She chuckled, recalling the most eventful chase she had ever been a part of. “Took seven of them though,” she whispered in-between giggles. “And now I’m banned from using trainer-craft. Gotta love the way Swan tagged on the fact that I was barred from the lower lots too.”
“You didn’t leave me much of a choice,” Sarshata said, coming from the kitchen with a tray of glasses and an old brown hard-crystal bottle.
“Commander,” Jocasta said as she eased her gun back into the holster. “Imagine my surprise.”
“You mean had you shot me? Yeah, I’d like to think you would have at least been surprised. I thought I’d take this opportunity to discuss a few things with you. But first things first. Why don’t you take a seat.”
“Oh, it’s one of those talks. I’m not going to apologize about punching Snow.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to, and she’s already marked it as a non-issue,” Sarshata explained, setting the tray down. “You’d be surprised how many of those there are in our files.” Opening the bottle, she handed the crystal cork to Jocasta and was a bit surprised that she knew to touch it to her left pinky. She closed her eyes as the nectar introduced itself to the young woman. “You pirates do get around.”
