Fledge (12 page)

Oh shit, Esta. What the fuck?

"She's crazy, Isec, she's full of shit. Just trying to scare you."

"Why would she want to scare me now, Junco? It's not like I can back out."

My cheeks puff up and then I release the air out in one long exhale as I shake my head at him. "She's having problems, Isec, that's why she's here. She's not happy with her job, so don't take what she says too serious. I'll speak to her tomorrow, and if she says this shit again, we'll get rid of her and you can train with Ashur and me."

This satisfies him and they go back to playing. "I'm gonna go take a shower," I say, but they are busy and don't even respond.

The showers are empty so I strip down and languish in the hot water. My hair is a lot longer than it was before the morph and I secretly wish for a good haircut so it didn't take so long to wash.

When I'm done I walk over towards the counter to see if I can get some clothes, but no one is there and the wall has been replaced with a line of cubbies that have biometric panels on them. They are all empty except the one that says Junco, Aves 039-9.

I pass my thumb over the panel and the transparent door slides up to allow access to another care package. I take it over to the row of benches and sit down, being careful to hike up my towel. This time I fish all the way down to the bottom and find the note first.

Junco,

You have not used the ionspray. Do you think I would put things in the package if I don't want you to use them? Why must you be so difficult?

Lucan

I fish around again and pull up the ionspray. This time it has a label and directions: Quick recovery – To use, squeeze near nose. I consider using it, but I push it aside for now. I'm not hurt, why waste it? Besides, maybe Isec will need one after the next battle.

I pull out my uniform but there is something else in the bag – shorts and a tank. For bed, I guess. I put those on and tuck the uniform back in the bag and carry it with me to my bunk.

The bed is a lot softer than I remember any bed ever being and I drift off to sleep thinking about what Lucan's note will say tomorrow night.

Chapter Eleven

Ashur slams me down on the mat as I focus on Isec's face. Esta is talking to him across the room.

"Shit, Ashur, that hurt!"

"You're not paying attention."

I nod over towards Isec. "Esta was telling him some fucked-up shit yesterday, scared him bad, too. I don't want her telling him that stuff. I need him to learn something useful so I won't be worried about what happens to him if he does manage to make it to the end."

"He's not your responsibility, Junco."

"Like hell, we're partners now. He calls out the people behind me and she's gonna ruin it with her mid-life crisis bullshit."

He laughs and pulls me to my feet. "I'll talk to her later. First try and do some moves that you would normally do on Earth, to see how it's different with the wings and the less than 1G gravity."

I nod and try a spinning kick on the dummy, but fall on my face, laughing. "Hell, I guess it makes a huge difference!"

"Yeah, the last time I saw you do that, you took a guy's head off."

He grins at me, but the image of Aren brings back the video of Moju.
Please, God,
I pray to myself,
let Moju be OK
.

"Junco? What the hell are you daydreaming about now?"

I sigh. "Nothing, let me try that again." I go through the moves and this time at least hit my target, albeit in very sloppy form. After several more adjustments my foot smacks the bag squarely and it feels right. Ashur just sits and watches me, pointing out ways to force my wings to lie flat against my back. It works better that way, less air resistance.

I move on to flips and gymnastics but have the same problem. Ashur holds me as I twist, flip and flop, setting me down like my aerialist coaches would when I was small. Again, the wings are throwing me off balance. He tapes them down and I do it again. And again, and again, and again. I'm sweaty and gross when I notice the crowd watching and feel self-conscious.

"Again, Junco."

I try something new, something I think I can do well regardless of the wings, and I begin a Wan Woo form that I've practiced religiously since I was a pre-teen. It starts out slow, supposed to be done in the riding ring, in the dirt, right? Both on and off the horse. The first twenty-three moves are all balance – standing, weaving, hands, shoulders, and the head. The second part is on horseback, obviously it isn't now, since I have no horse, but I draw a mental box that is ten inches square around my feet to keep me focused. This is how you practice your tricks before going live on the back of an animal that could kill you with a hoof to the head if you fall.

My wings are an added weight that throws off the first of the boxed moves, but I compensate as I spring into a handstand and tilt my legs forward a little. From there I push off one-handed, spin, and catch myself on the other hand. My three remaining digits squeal with the pressure.

The kata pattern speeds along nicely as I rotate between straight flips from the hand and foot position. It's more like a vertical dance than anything, since that's really what mounted acrobatics is. I'm balanced on my head, getting ready to push up with my shoulders when I notice Ashur smiling at me. I smile back and heave, twisting my hips and swinging my knees down in a swoop as my upper body and feet trade places. I land at the very edge of my mental box and throw my arms in the air.

It was pretty sloppy, but I'll take it.

I smile over at Ashur and I'm just about to walk towards him when a big guy, one of Kush's buddies from the other side of the room, steps in front of me. "What the hell was that?"

"Wan Woo long form for aerialists, why?" He's a big brown-winged guy who looks pretty much like Kush – square jaw, intense blue eyes, and stout build, except he's got his head shaved and some marks on his arms. Tattoos or something.

"Never heard of that pattern, or seen anything like that before."

I stare at him sideways, not because he's particularly interesting to look at, but because his words come out like a challenge. A growl of dominance.

"Well, you wouldn't, would you? I mean, unless you've been to Earth, right? I've been told there are no horses in space, so that pretty much rules out mounted acrobatic routines."

Ashur is between us before I can even finish. "That's enough, Junco, let's go fly."

I turn to follow him but the big guy grabs my arm and turns me back. "Hey, I'm still talk–"

I react, I can't help it. My knees are bending on the word "hey," and by the time he gets to "talk," I've smacked him in the jaw so hard with my heel he drops to the ground.

Ashur lets out a deep breath and motions me to follow him, but I kneel down to the guy instead. "I'll let you live because maybe you're just having a bad day, but there will be no next time. Don't ever fucking touch me again."

I stand and glance over at Isec, his smile is so wide I have to shoot him a wink. Then Ashur and I leave the training room and make our way down the stairs to the front of the building.

Outside we stop at the benches so I can puff a cigar. Ashur holds a hand up to his face to shield his eyes from the sunlight. Or whatever it is, since it's obviously not the sun. "Now you'll have to watch your back for that guy, Junco. I hope it was worth it."

I shrug. "He grabbed me, Ash. You can't let guys get away with that shit or they take it to the next level." I blow rings upward and lean back on the bench, my disfigured hand behind my head as a cushion.

"Yeah, I know. But he looked off. Keep an eye out for him."

"Yeah, OK. So we gonna fly or what?"

He smiles down at me, plucks the cigar from my hand, stomps on it, and pulls me up. "This will be a lot harder than in the free-G, you'll be sore tomorrow."

I smile. "I'm ready." And I am.

Flying is not all that fun when you're learning. For one thing, you fall an awful lot. And I'm not talking about some pansy-ass baby fall. Even in the grass that hurts. It takes me hours to get a few feet off the ground and my stomach muscles are burning with the strain of keeping my body parallel. I had no idea it took so many muscles to get into the correct flight position.

Eventually, after Ashur tugs me up into the wind, I find my stride with gliding. The wind is stronger up high so I have to compensate by twisting, using muscles I never knew I had. Well, probably didn't before a few days ago. We take advantage of the air stream and fly out above the train rail, following it into a town a few miles away. People stare at us as Ash lands and I crash and roll near a pub, but we're both wearing the Aves uniform, so they get disinterested quick enough.

We drink and eat, Ash watches some kind of sport on the screen, and I throw darts at a board that has the face of Jax Justice on it.

Internally I find that quite funny.

Some things are universal and hatred for this guy's high-drama action screens back on Earth is one of them, like politics and parties on the news. I hit him in the eye several times, and from the looks of the missing paper pieces in the orbital region, that seems to be a favorite spot for many of the locals as well.

On Earth I don't recall ever having so much freedom. Back home I was in a routine where I did what I was told to do, saw who I was told to see, and went where I was told to go. It wasn't exactly orders, more like habit to the extent that I was unable to even see that I had options. I had boyfriends when we were out on the scrub and on maneuvers, but never at home. As I got older my father got more and more weird about boys, so I kept that shit out of sight. Even the horses were more of a job than a social engagement.

Take Peaks, for instance. I had a vehicle and a Farm Family passport stamped with military privileges, yet I never went to the city alone. Never even went shopping or just to grab a chicken sandwich. It's refreshing, freeing actually, to be in charge of myself. I watch Ash across the room and wish the other guys would come visit too, especially Braun – I really need to talk to that fucker – but the casual routine Ashur and I have slipped into is satisfying in a way I've never experienced before.

Normal.

I walk over and join him and he explains the rules of the sport to me. It's a lot like gridiron, but more violent and takes place in free-G. After a while we leave and grab the train back so I don't have to try and fly against the wind in the dark. Ash gives me a hug at the door and I wave an arm at him as I walk inside.

It's past midnight when I finally get back to the dorm, so I forgo a shower and just slip into bed with my uniform on. I can hear Isec in the next bunk, his breathing even, but the remnants of crying linger in the way he hiccups air. I am thinking about how I will kill Esta tomorrow for scaring him so badly when the arms come up from below my bed and clamp against my mouth. In a blink I am dragged silently down the middle of the room and into the showers. When we get there the door closes and I hear the click of a lock just before the lights flick on.

It's the big guy from earlier.

What a dumb fuck.

His rage is dialed up to maximum and his two buddies stand around him with their arms crossed. "Not so fucking tough without your bodyguard, are you, little girl."

I laugh and he kicks me in the ribs, making me laugh again. "Keep laughing, girl, I can't wait to see you without teeth."

I cough a little to clear my throat, just to make sure I can enunciate everything properly. "Wow. You think he was
my
bodyguard? Shit, I'm
his
bodyguard, you dumbass!" I laugh again, and the boot finds its mark, making me roll a little to the side.

I wait it out because there's only one reason to drag a girl into a locked room and it always ends with the asshole on top. And once he gets that position in his head, he'll have made his last mistake.

"Hold her down, Bann."

"Bann," I say, looking at the guy he was just talking to, "if you hold me down, I'll make sure and kill you first. Don't say I never warned you."

He ignores me and makes to hold my left arm while the other guy tries for the right. I grab Bann's foot first, since I did warn him, and he goes down hard. I wince as his head cracks against the cold tile floor and the blood spills out.

The other guy hesitates, making him already too late for the party. I kick up with my right foot and take out his nose. The blood gushes out in a way that reminds me of nightdogs and caves. I swing my legs back to my head and fling them forward, forcing myself up on my feet. The SEAR exits my shirt silently, but the hiss of power makes the ring leader snap to attention. "What the fu–"

His head is rolling towards the shower drain before he can finish his curse. The broken-nose guy is scrambling to his feet, making for the locked door, when his head goes rolling down towards the blood-red drain as well. The other guy is already dead, so I don't soil the air with any more burning flesh than I have to.

The whole fight is over in less than a minute and I thumb the mechanism on the SEAR and put it away.