Equinox (5 page)

She’d almost forgotten him though by three as she made her way to the Apollo Dome. This was what all the study at the Academy was aimed at for those in the pilot-training stream. Only twenty per cent actually passed. The course was tough and relentless, and many dropped out or switched to something else. Rosie was determined she wouldn’t.

Rosie’s reasons for wanting to become a pilot had changed. Before Mars it had been about her love of space, the thrill of it and wanting to get out of the Banks. Now it was about freedom and control. She’d had a chance to help fly a Helios ship, the
Cosmic Mariner
, on their escape from Mars, and she still remembered how it had felt when she’d panicked, staring at all the lights, not knowing what to do. She’d figured it out just in time, but that feeling, that terrifying gap of knowledge, wasn’t something she wanted to feel again. When the pilot, Nerita, had shown her such respect and told her she might see Rosie in the skies again some day, it had opened a door. She wanted to be like Nerita. She wanted her own ship, and maybe one day she would have it.

There were five simulators in the Apollo Dome and five pre-flight lecture halls. She entered the third one. The seats were tiered around the lecturer’s podium and screen, and each was fitted with a set of dummy flight controls and an immersion headset. The first term lessons would take place in the lecture hall using the dummy sets before they moved on to using the actual simulator.

Rosie had used the simulator a few times before her mum died, under Aunt Essie’s supervision – and probably without Orbitcorp permission – so she felt confident that she might do better here than some of the other students. But that didn’t quell her nerves as she took a seat. Amazingly, Dalton Curtis was already there and waiting in the second row. He saw her and smiled, causing a few girls to cast her suspicious looks.

Rosie ignored them and fixed her eyes on her control set.

Thankfully, the instructor arrived. “My name is Commander Mellar,” he said. “Welcome to flight training. A few things you should know. One: I don’t give second chances. Two: I won’t suffer disruptions. Be here to learn, or use the door. And three: being a pilot means holding others’ lives in your hands. If you can’t take that seriously, you should leave now.” He surveyed the now totally silent hall.

“Good, let’s get started. Immersion sets on. As you’ve all had some basic training, we’ll start with a cold run. I want to see what you’ve got. The set-up is a Class 2 ion drive, you have a crew of four and you’ve just lost your right-forward thrusters. Planetfall is imminent and death a real possibility. See what you can do.”

Rosie slipped her headset on, the eye screens sliding down so she saw nothing but black for a second. Then she was thrust into a virtual ship, her hands at the controls.

The simulation was tough and Rosie was filled with disappointment when it finished. She hadn’t landed the ship anywhere near as well as she’d hoped. The whole simulation caused her to be struck by a major flashback of crashing her aunt’s ship on Mars that had thrown her, and made her performance less than stellar. She wondered how the rest of the class had done.

“Results.” Commander Mellar touched his lectern and a display of numbers appeared behind him.

“As you can see, forty-one out of the forty-three of you crashed and killed everyone on board, including yourselves. Mr Curtis.” He looked up at Dalton. “You’re an exception. Although your ship was damaged beyond repair and you lost two of your crew.” His gaze went across the class and settled on Rosie. “And Miss Black.”

Forty-two pairs of eyes swivelled in her direction and Rosie swallowed, feeling her neck go warm. “Well done. You managed to land your ship with some unorthodox moves, which kept it mostly intact. However, your decision to order three of your crew to use their escape pods resulted in terrible injuries. One died. Pods should not be used so close to a planet’s surface.” His sharp, pale eyes felt like they were impaling her to her seat. Rosie looked away, only to catch Dalton Curtis watching her with speculation. He lifted an eyebrow and gave her a small salute. Rosie cut her eyes away and began packing up her headset. Great start at keeping a low profile. She got out of class as quickly as she could, checking the time on her com. This was the last class of the day and she had somewhere to be.

Most of the first years went straight to the Academy bar at the end of the day to mix with the older students, but Rosie headed out the gates to the closest shuttle station. Central West B was half full and the cooling system had failed. Lines of hot and lethargic people queued at the stops, waiting to go home.

Rosie fanned herself with a flyer for a game parlour and was more than a little surprised to see Dalton Curtis sitting on a bench on her platform.

He nodded as she approached. “Hey, Pilot Girl, you not going to join the mass revelry at the bar either?”

Pilot Girl? Rosie stopped. There was no more room left on the bench.

“Don’t you have a driver?” she said.

He smiled and got to his feet. “No, I just say that to entertain the professors. Besides, the shuttle’s quicker. Do you want a seat?” His hazel eyes seemed golden in the light coming through the glass roof.

“Um, no, I’m fine thanks.” Rosie felt awkward.

“So what’s your first name, Miss Black? I can’t keep calling you Pilot Girl.”

“Rosie.”

He held out his hand. “Dalton.” There was a wry twist to his lips as she hesitated a moment before shaking.

“Not that you need an introduction,” she said.

“Right, of course. I’m one of the famous Curtis men.” His tone was light but he said it as if he didn’t think much of the fact.

She checked the track and saw the gleam of the shuttle approaching.

“You’re not from around here, are you, Rosie?” Dalton said.

“What makes you say that?”

He grinned. “Answering a question with a question – you hiding something?”

She frowned as the shuttle hissed to a halt and he beat her to the door, but then he stepped aside. “After you.”

Rosie touched her token to the reader and was disconcerted when he sat next to her.

“Thought we could swap piloting tips,” he said. “You know, the two top students.”

“Don’t you think you might be making that call a bit early?”

Dalton shrugged and gave her a sideways smile. “We’ll see.”

He leaned her way to pull a thin com from his pants’ pocket. The sleeve of his shirt brushed her arm and she caught a whiff of something expensive, like citrus and leather.

“So,” he said, “how did you manage to land the ship in the simulator without totally trashing it? Been practising all alone or are you just naturally talented?”

“Maybe I’m just a natural,” Rosie said.

Dalton chuckled. “No enhancements then – just what you were born with?” She knew exactly what he meant. Most Central girls had some kind of cosmetic enhancement by the time they were sixteen.

“All natural,” she said in a cold tone. “Any other questions?”

“Whoa. I believe you. Besides, I’m not a big fan of all that stuff. I mean, what’s the purpose of having sparkly flying birds on your face? Is it camouflage? Some secret girl language or the mark of a hypnotist cult?” He feigned confusion. “Can you explain it?”

“I really can’t.”

“Ah well.” He sighed. “I am doomed to walk the Earth an ignorant arse then.”

Rosie couldn’t help smiling just a little.

“There, you see,” he said. “I’m not as spoilt or obnoxious as you thought.”

“I never said you were.”

“No, but you thought it. He’s just another spoilt rich boy, craving attention.”

“That’s not exactly what I thought.”

“Yeah it is.” Dalton laughed. “But it doesn’t matter. I like making people think one thing then spinning their minds by being the opposite.”

“What? You mean you’re not rich?” Rosie said.

“Sorry, can’t claim that. But it has its perks. You’d be amazed what people will do when you have money.”

He didn’t look amazed though; he looked disappointed. He caught her watching him and his expression smoothed. “But that’s not your worry, Rosie Black. You don’t seem the sort to do something just for money.”

“That depends on what it is,” she said. “Not everyone has your resources.”

“True.” He nodded and lounged back against the seat, tossing his com up and down. “So, if I gave you a hundred credits, would you tell me how you managed not to total your ship in the simulator?”

Rosie almost believed he was serious. “That’s all my expertise is worth – the cost of a soy burger?”

“Okay, I’ll throw in a drink as well, and hold your hand in class. It’s a great deal: slake your thirst and rise to meteoric heights on the social scale at the same time. What do you say?” Dalton’s smile held a teasing gleam.

“Tempting, but no. I think you can figure it out yourself.”

“A challenge, excellent!” He stood up. “Although I’m crushed my offer of classroom bliss holds so little value to you.” He winked and walked backwards towards the door as the shuttle slowed to a stop at Central Park. “See you tomorrow, Rosie Black.”

The doors swished open and he jumped out, giving her a salute as the shuttle pulled away. Rosie watched him go, the shuttle moving so fast she didn’t have time to wave back. What had just happened? Had Dalton Curtis, prince of the Academy, been flirting with her? It seemed like it, but then also not. She didn’t think of herself as ugly but she was hardly in his league, and in Central things like that mattered. A lot. Rosie twisted the strap of her bag between her hands. Weird.

Greenview Centre had its own shuttle stop and Rosie was so wrapped up in her thoughts about Dalton, she almost missed it. She scrambled out and the scent of eucalypts and dry, baked earth hit her like a virtual memory slap.

Juli had lived in these hills. But Juli was dead, killed by Helios. It got to her every time she came here. She had to make herself not think about it. She was here for her dad. She had to find her happy face for him – if he recognised her.

She was late for visiting hours, but the nurse on duty let her in. Her dad was in a room that overlooked a rocky valley of dry scrub and trees. Riley had insisted on taking over the payments for his care, so now he had a room of his own, instead of being in a ward.

The furnishing tried to emulate a home, with a large bed, and lounge chairs around a coffee table near the window, but nothing could disguise the medibot in the corner or the smell of antiseptic.

Rosie opened the door quietly. Her dad was sitting in one of the chairs, staring out of the window, a digi book on his lap. He looked so tired. His hair was brushed back to reveal his receding hairline, the black streaked with grey. He hadn’t had any grey a year ago. Rosie’s chest tightened. She still found it hard to see how frail he’d become. He was over two metres tall but looked smaller because he was always curled slightly in on himself. Lines radiated out from his eyes and there was a pallor in his cheeks that a man his age shouldn’t have. He was only forty-two but looked like he was in his late fifties. The sound of clinking dishes came from the communal dining room and she shut the door to block it out. He didn’t move.

“Dad?” Rosie tried to inject some lightness in her voice. She dropped her bag on the end of his bed. “Hey, you sleeping with your eyes open?” She put a hand on his shoulder and he exploded out of the chair with a shout, the digi book clattering to the floor.

She flinched back. “It’s okay. It’s me, Rosie.”

His eyes were red-rimmed, wide with fear, and he held his hands up as if he was trying to fend her off, but then he seemed to focus and see her. He dropped his hands to his heaving chest. “Rosie, love, don’t surprise me like that.”

“Sorry.” She tried to sound normal. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Right, no, that’s okay.” His smile was tremulous. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“It’s finished for today.” She picked up the book and put it on the table.

“It is?” He frowned. “It must be later than I thought.”

“Probably. Sit down, Dad.” Rosie sat in the chair near his and he slowly sank back down.

“How are you, love, and Essie?”

Rosie’s paused for a moment before she answered. He was lucid today. “I’m good. So is Aunt Essie. I started at the Academy today.”

“Good. That’s good.” A sad light came into his eyes. He looked out the window and she saw the glistening brightness of unshed tears. He was lucid enough to remember his wife was dead.

When Rosie spoke she was fighting not to cry herself. “I did really well in flight class.”

“That’s great.” He turned back to her. “Maybe by the end of the year we can celebrate together. I’m sure I’ll be out by then.” He tried for a smile, but the fear behind his eyes was painful.

She nodded. “I’m sure you will; you’re doing really well.” It was a lie. This was the first time in weeks he’d known who she was. He kept slipping backwards, slipping away, and sometimes Rosie didn’t know if she could keep coming to see him.

He let out a long breath. “Tell me about the Academy. Have you made any new friends?”

Rosie tried to tell him, making it sound as good as she could. She told him about the party planned for the end of the week by Dalton Curtis’s father. It seemed to cheer him up. She invented friends she didn’t have, and made no mention of Riley, or what she’d been doing for him. There was no way her dad was strong enough to cope with that. She stayed to eat with him, making jokes about that quality of the soy curry.