by Loren Walker
III.
The nickname for the prototype was ‘Arazura:’ a takeoff on the exterior paneling, which gave off shades of silver-blue. ‘Air Azure,’ like some commercial flight company. Silly. But it stuck in Renzo’s head, and he’d come to like it. During a break, when the others had gone in search of food and cigarettes, Renzo sat on top of the vessel, twenty feet off the ground, surveying his property.
His. His heart beat faster with pride.
When Renzo left for the Mac, he had no idea what the weeks ahead might hold. But when he finally arrived at the meeting point, and the girl stepped out of shadow, the shock burst out of him.
“Ani?” he gasped.
She’d laughed. And it was like they were teenagers again, ten years ago.
When civil war broke out in the West, the government had called in all experts in all fields to strategize. Renzo was nineteen, but already a name in the code breaking field, so he was recruited with several others to analyze communications, satellites and stolen technology.
Anandi, or Ani as he knew her then, was the youngest in his group at fourteen years old. She was also the loudest, the most brightly dressed, and possessed one of the most brilliant minds he’d ever encountered. Working side by side, she’d made him smile, even laugh a few times. The project had only lasted ten days, until the first armistice came through. Then Renzo was sent home with all the others.
That same girl now showed him all she had learned since their last encounter: how to infiltrate firewalls, break through passwords, and sift through layers of information for that precious morsel. Staring at her profile as she explained, a forgotten memory came to light: even back then, under the watchful eye of the government, Anandi was particularly interested in digging up secrets: family histories, private conversations, stealing away forgotten drafts of memos. She kept everything in a Lissome she kept hidden by her ankle, under the folds of her bright trousers; she showed him a few times, grinning as if he were part of the plot.
A funny fixation, he remembered thinking at the time. He never thought to report her to the authorities; in fact, he was secretly jealous of her brazen attitude.
Still, just like ten years ago, within the first day of their reunion, Anandi managed to irritate Renzo with her chipper outlook, and used her charm to extract far too much personal information from him. He told her about Huma and Sydel, how helpless he had been to make any kind of decision about the girl’s ownership. And when Anandi recounted the articles she’d read on it, Renzo told her more about his assault by Nican Macatia, how he and his siblings were still reeling from the aftermath.
“Let me ask you this,” Anandi said, sitting back in her chair. “You have time and distance now from all of that. A few weeks on your own. What do you want to do?”
“I’m supposed to be learning from you,” Renzo said. “You’re not willing?”
“Well, yes, but you have an opportunity, Ren, to do something just for you.” As Anandi spoke, she waved her hand and her sleeve slipped down. Renzo caught a glimpse of something taped inside her elbow before she dropped her arm to her side, out of sight.
“For once, you’re not responsible for anyone or anything,” she continued. “What have you always wished you could do?”
Renzo knew the answer immediately. Anandi caught the change in his expression, and slapped her hand on his knee. “What is it? Come on.”
“It’s silly,” Renzo huffed, uncomfortable with her physicality. “And there’s no time to - ”
“Just say it. Stop acting like a grumpy old man.”
“Well,” he mumbled as a flush crept up his neck. “I’ve always liked to build. And fly. I guess I’ve always wanted to build my own flight vessel. But - ”
Anandi grinned, her eyes crinkling at the edges. “You can build? I didn’t know that.”
“Well, sometimes. I mean, little things on my own. Sometimes I rebuilt racers or speeders, when I could find scrap material...”
As he spoke, a grin spread across Anandi’s face. At the sight, Renzo grimaced. “What?”
“Nothing,” Anandi said nonchalantly. “If you want to learn, pay attention.” Then her fingers became a blur from typing.
At the end of the day, stiff and sore from sitting for so long, they went for a walk through the Mac. Or as much of a walk that Renzo could manage. He hated walking outside; it felt like everyone stared at him, painfully hobbling on his prosthesis.
But Anandi insisted. “I have something to show you,” she told him.
It was an old manufacturing plant. Renzo studied the brick exterior, cracked windows and chains woven over the doors.
“This is why you dragged me out?” he asked flatly. “I grew up in Daro. I’ve seen this before”
“Right, I got you outside to look at a pile of bricks,” Anandi retorted. “It’s the inside that counts, Ren.”
“Well, it’s chained up, Ani.”
One of the windows suddenly opened, and Anandi’s father, Emir, popped his head out. “Clear,” he called. “Come on in.”
“What are you two up to?” Renzo groaned, checking over his shoulder for any sign of patrol.
“Come on, grandpa,” Anandi called back, dashing towards the building. “Guess what this place used to make.”
Minutes later, Renzo stood in the center of a vast hanger, complete with mounting machines, abandoned supplies and welding equipment.
And a rusty old freighter, sitting in the middle of it all.
“They used to build ambassador transports in here,” Emir said, stroking his white beard as he studied one of the construction consoles. “Then there was an issue of safety code, and they went bankrupt. They sold some of the equipment, but not all of it.”
“Do these still work?” Renzo asked, peering at the joints of one mechanical arm, noting the rust in the screws.
“They should. With some electricity, of course.”
“I don’t know what she’s thinking,” Renzo muttered. He ran his hand over the controls, and then glanced at the freighter again. “Whose ship is that?”
“Yours, Ren,” Anandi’s voice echoed through the hanger.
Where was she?
Then the lights flickered overhead. Some shorted out as soon as they were lit, releasing a brief shower of orange sparks.
“Hey Ren!” Anandi sang out. “I put out the call for help. Guess what you’re doing over the next few weeks.”