Quote:Jet stopped outside the hatchway, She closed her eyes, taking one long deep breath. Her blood was boiling in her veins. Inside the armour, she was shaking, physically shaking. Quattro deserved to die. Every single cell of her body knew it. There was a nice red button that begged to be pushed. It’d send the contents of the shuttlebay hurtling into empty space. In my judgment as a troubleshooter, Quattro was too dangerous to be allowed to live. Quattro made an attempt at escape, and triggered the door latch. The hatch had been damaged by the Stargazer hitting it, it was just an accident. There were a hundred potential rationalisations, or explanations; little white lies that soothed and promised nobody would know the truth.
But, Jet thought, that isn’t me.
It doesn’t fit the Jet Jaguar brand. It didn’t fit the image she was so careful to cultivate both to herself and the world at large as a decent, and safe, person. It was the antithesis of everything she wanted to be to be crouched over someone with a blade to their throat threatening them and meaning it.
Even if they deserved it.
Jet was honourable. Jet was a martial artist with a warrior’s pride. Jet wasn’t an indiscriminate murderer. Jet killed four of the local Dark Senshi on Nehallenia solely because not-killing them would’ve taken too long. She was drenched in blood, and nobody really knew it. Trapped in a solid tank being pumped full of thick, iron blood, slicking up around her body, crawling up her neck promising an inevitable guttering, chocking death if she didn't kick and scream and tear at her bindings and curse and swear and beg for forgiveness from all the God's she could think of and plead with them to get her the fuck out RIGHT NOW!
Recurring nightmares were a bitch. She banished that memory with slow, deliberately controlled breathing, letting a sympathetic rush of panic slowly wind down. Jet stood there, steadily allowing the worst of that hot anger to radiate out of her body. The rest could just be squelched down underfoot. Another deep breath.
“Something up?”
She opened her eyes to see Luka looking at her with concern, the guts of a network switch spilled out on the console in front of him. Jet knew with every fiber in her body that he had to have heard what happened in there.
“Nothing,” Jet said.
She quickly marched out of there, near slamming the hatch behind her, climbing up into the living quarters. There was still a sticky mess on the floor which had flowed out from under a cabin door. It clung to feet like road-tar on a hot day. Inside, a child was complaining about her clothes not fitting anymore while someone tried to reassure her that she was growing up again. Hotaru Minaguchi’s life had changed forever, that much was certain. Joker-Ace, a textbook positive Joker-Ace.
Lenneth was getting something to eat. Neither of them said anything to each other. There was a good chance Lenneth, or anyone who’d been forward in the galley, had also overheard what happened. Jet headed aft through the engine room with her head down.
Only one of the turbines was running, just above idle to provide hotel power. The music was kept to a soothing volume. With the acceleration burn finished, they were coasting for the rest of the journey. Linda was bandaged up and reading that book Miranda had been reading earlier; Heart of Darkness. She grunted in pain as she moved.
The worst part was, what Quattro’d said was true. Jet hated Zwilniks. And, Jet figured, decent people didn’t hate like that. That was why it had to be kept private. Not even Ford could know.
Ford was in the rear cargobay. she had her truck parked up on the upper deck, and had removed some of the plates to give her access. It was a decent enough replacement for a proper lift, and made getting parts out a hundred times easier.
“Hey, Jet,” she said, calmly. “What happened?”
Jet stopped dead for a moment. “Nothing,” she said, avoiding eye contact.
Ford stopped working, “What happened?” she repeated, a little more firmly.
“Nothing,” Jet repeated, her voice taking on a hard edge that demanded Ford drop it. She forced a smile and feigned a yawn “I’m just feeling a little bit tired... It’s been days since I slept.”
“I’m kinda working here right now,”
“I just have to stow some gear on the upper deck,”
Jet boosted up with a kick from her engines, landing gently on the deck above. Her own locker was towards the forward end of the bay, around the other side of the parked truck. It was a tight enough squeeze. Each of the Gruppe had their own personal locker aboard, along with the powerpoints and system connections needed to actually get to sleep and/or charge batteries.
Her power was low, but not critical. Her cells were good for three days straight flight, two days hard combat, or over a week sitting on her metal arse going stir crazy trapped in a little tin box of a ship. She shuddered a bit, a rumble through her whole feeling body like the vibrations a distant train going past. Just having something to eat would maintain things enough to keep her awake. Jet didn't dare sleep with Quattro aboard.
“We going to staying at the Forge for any sort of time?”
“No,” Jet shook her head. “Just long enough to drop our passenger off into AC's tender loving care and refuel. We’ve got another mission we need to start prep for,”
Truth. Jet swallowed a yawn, leaning down against an upright for a moment. The overhead lights buzzed in her ears like a swarm of flies caught behind a window. A little tired. Noah Scott was a little wealthy. The adrenaline had gone. The tension had gone. Decking Quattro had seemed to have swallowed the last of her energy. The only thing keeping her awake was the hardware propping the organics up. Batteries at low. Get something carbohydratey... a good source of chemical energy. That was the advantage of a having good organic fraction. Muscles didn’t run out of electric power and she didn’t waste her power cells just walking around. The only electrical draw right now was the computer hardware, which was barely running above idle. She could go for another two days or so like this before things started getting critical.
“My arm’s a bit trashed, so I’ll probably have catch up then,” said Ford.
“Righto,”
Silence fell. Ford had stopped work. Jet could feel herself being watched. It bred a creeping paranoia deep in the pit of her stomach fuelled by the absolute certainty that Ford had to have heard what Jet did. Ford had to know. Jet may not have had real skin, but she still felt goosebumps prickle across the tops of her arms and along her back.
Jet felt ready to throw up. She tried to keep her mind off it, undoing the clamps locking her blades to her forearms. Her reflection in the marbled metal looked tired, eyes sunken into dark hollows in her face.
The marbling came from the impurities in the steel. It was the impurities which gave it it’s real strength. It was a reminder that it was all her little human flaws which gave her her true strength and power.
And which were threatening to destroy her.
She wiped the blade down with a special cloth, removing every last spec of dirt she could manage, before dabbing it down with a protective oil. Finally, it was wrapped up in it’s cloth and placed carefully in a felt-padded recess in wooden box. The second blade received the exact same careful treatment. They were super strong, waved metal, with a glassteel edge capable of going edge to edge with anything and cutting right through. Jet once cut a .50 calibre bullet clean in half in mid air using one. The part of the story she never told was that it’d been a one-in-a-million accident.
Their big quirk was that if the steel ever tarnished, all their strength was lost, and it was the devil to regrind and polish them. It was supposed to be a reminder to Jet to keep practicing and honing her skills. It was a wonderful reminder of how difficult it’d be to rebuild her reputation.
It was gone if someone found out. It was gone even if she told someone. The last thing Jet wanted was to spend her life with people whispering behind her back that she was somehow dangerous. Like a verdant green volcano cascading with ancient forestry, that seemed like a nice docile and inviting hike right up until the moment the pressure got too high inside and it blew it's top in the most violent manner imaginable.
It wasn't worth focusing on right now.
“Vielen dank für ihren schutz,” Jet breathed as she closed the lid on the box with an almost maternal gentleness. It locked with a click and she slid it back under its cover. Her pistol was safety-locked before being secured. There was a big Barret rifle that was never used beside it, to which Jet had added Dai-Gurren markings for shits and giggles.
And that was that. Jet locked it all away.
“What’s going to happen to her,” Ford asked, mildly.
Her voice seemed to come like a bolt of lightning from the quiet of the cargobay.
“Huh?”
“Quattro,”
“Right.” Jet was tired. “Fucked if I care,” she shrugged. “But if she’s built by Agatha Clay, she’ll have to be analysed and tested. And repaired,” Jet added that as an after thought.
“What do you want to happen to her?” Ford asked, carefully.
I’m afraid Dave. Dave, my mind is going. I can feel it. Jet smiled darkly on that thought, turning back to face her partner. “I don’t know,” she said. “Why’re you so worried about her?”
“Uh......” Ford looked away for a moment. “That wasn’t what I meant.” She laughed lightly. “I was just surprised to see you quoting Dirty Harry. I should’ve known better. Nobody says anything that cheesy and means it.”
Jet thought back to the lab, trying to remember what exactly she’d said in the lab. It hadn’t been that long ago. The only thing she could remember was seeing Ford hitting the ground. “I did?”
Ford’s expression flattened. “Yeah...”
Jet glanced back at her, looking as puzzled as she felt. A rubber glove of feeling brushed against Jet’s body, leaving her with the uneasy realisation that she might have just missed something important, and didn’t know what. It was a feeling that crawled across her body like a thousand Penderecki cockroaches.
“I've been burning the midnight oil these last couple of days is all. I guess I didn't think it through,” She forced this big self-effacing smile that would've made any politician feel ashamed. It was shallow and plastic and so clearly at odds with what was going on underneath. “I'll get some sleep when she's off the ship, I promise”
Ford heaved a frustrated sigh. “Sure. I guess I'll drive back with my truck. Make sure the garage's alright and I'll see you in a couple of days.”
“Righto,”
Split the bullet in half again, Jet thought. She failed to hide an obvious sigh of relief, before allowing silence to close back in like a comforting blanket. As far as Jet was concerned, she'd just dodged the bullet once again. Safe and sound. The living-room elephant could stay in hiding. The can of worms would stay sealed.
Jets mind was clearing up. Those angry stormclouds where giving way to a grey cold haze. Maybe the sun would come out soon. She finished stowing her gear, before taking a few moments to decide that it might be a good idea to catch up with her meditation. Her last cycle had been interrupted.
Which explained why she went off on Quattro like that. That was a perfect fit. Tired, stressed, interrupted meditation, of course I'm going to lose my temper. She almost smiled at her own cleverness for realising it.
There was something assuaging about having an excuse. It was Not Her Fault. She could blame circumstances Beyond Her Control. It was liberating.
Jet left, using her wireless systems to make sure Quattro was still properly guarded. Passing through the engine room, she set R'n'R for those who'd reached their two-week limit, checked training schedules, and made a specific point to request details on how Jana was doing.
Lenneth was still eating in the galley as Jet made her way passed to the airlock.
“Just going outside, might be some time,” she said.
Naturally, nobody batted an eyelid. It was Jet's known personality quirk.
The hatch locked shut behind her and vacuum embraced her like an old friend. She felt her whole body fizzle inside as pressures equalised and Jet passed out of the human realm. The hatch light went red, and she opened it, stepping out into the black abyss beyond, taking hold of some handrails intended for maintenance. Naked infinity tickled the naked skin of her face.
Repairs on the damaged engine were going ahead, a pair of Senshi in spacesuits cutting out the mangled coil remains with a gas-axe. One of the advantages of flying a 'coaster', fixing things in space was much easier without a drive field. She hauled herself up onto the roof of the ship.
Barrelling through space at a fair slice of C, everything felt still and calm. She was Out There again, She could feel her whole body relax as she allowed herself to lay on her back along the top of the hull. The ship's own internal grav-field kept her down. Jet considered hooking into the nearest interwave station, and going to her metaverse server, but the speed and bandwidth would be just plain crap out this far. It'd be like sucking a keg of beer through a straw.
On her vision, she picked out the Forge, the Mars, then Atalante. Little spots in the distance. She could be at any of them inside an hour, if she was bothered. Sitting upright once more, blowing out a sigh as a silent puff of vapour and crystal ice, she sent a message asking not to be disturbed for an hour or so, before cutting her comm's and closing her eyes.
A few minutes later, she was already deep within herself.
Right. That could be the end of it. Unless anyone wants to write what happens to Quattro after she's dropped off, or unless anyone has any further suggestions. We thought about going further, possibly bringing in Noah in person, but too much more and this'll turn into the LOTR ending.
There's an epilogue story mostly done, showing Roland getting arrested and Ford finally taking Jet over what she's seen..... and the beginnings of the Highway star.
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--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?