by Ben Rovik
She looked over her shoulder as she reached the Flicker. Iggy and Tomas were in conversation. Their ‘naut was staring straight at the ground as Iggy tried to draw him out, her gestures looking especially animated against his stillness. She couldn’t hear what her senior tech was saying. His mouth may have been moving. It was hard to tell.
Ensie sighed as she clambered into the pilot’s seat, reaching out for the keypin. She twisted the metal stick and pulled it out of its slot. The propellers’ keening slowed and quieted, and the ranine box below the chair made the whole craft sag a few centimeters as it depressurized. Ensie felt the machine relax beneath her as she sat in the chair, the safety harness swinging against her ankles. The seat was a good size for her. She lifted a finger and tapped it against the rubber-coated handlebar, like tapping the side of a glass fishbowl. The entire training field stretched out in front of her, flat and open and inviting.
She stuffed the keypin in her pocket and slunk away from the machine. The engine went dead behind her.
Ask him. Just ask him.
“As you’d know if you’d been reading my reports,” Iggy was saying as Ensie rejoined them, “we were hoping for something closer to five-and-a-half meters on a straight jump with no pilot’s mass.”
“You didn’t get it.” Tomas crossed his arms over his chest, pursing his lips at the ground. “Sounds like the problem’s in that ranine box.”
“It could be the box, or it could be the limiters we installed on the props. If we dial them back, the lift would be a little higher and the gliding a little smoother.”
“I’m sick of all the back-and-forth on this burning thing.” He pressed his toe into one of the sandbags like a sulking toddler. “Just pump up the box so it gets high enough.”
“Well, hey, sir, thanks for the confident leadership, but what if that’s not what it needs?”
“You want it to pass five point five, that’s the easiest way to do it.”
Iggy put her hands on her hips and started to sputter at him. He raised a finger to stop her. “Don’t kill yourself for this thing, tech,” he said. “It’s dead on arrival. You honestly think that the future of personal flight is jumping around on a foil-covered shrimp? This thing’s never going to catch on.”
“If we execute the design badly, of course it won’t.”
“When we’re going up against the latest thrust packs, trust me; this thing’s going to look bad no matter how many hours you waste on it.”
“Thrust packs? You’ve seen their tests?” Ensie chimed in. “Dame Guernsey, right?”
Tomas sighed and nodded. “Spheres yeah. Now that’s a project that’s going places. If I weren’t stuck with this damn thing I’d be slitting throats left and right to pilot in their demo. As it is, I’m pulling strings to be Guernsey’s alternate.”
“Spheres, Tomas.” Iggy clenched her teeth. “Can you pay attention to your job for thirty seconds? We just had our first successful jump test, and all you can do is whine about how another ‘naut’s project is shinier than yours.”
“Somebody’s got to put my career first. It might as well be me.” He turned on his heel and started to walk back towards the Aerial compound. “Crank up the ranine box and call it a day, techs,” he shouted over his shoulder.
Iggy narrowed her eyes and turned her back on him, swearing skillfully in at least three languages. As Ensie watched him go, she saw an opportunity peeking out through the crack of an unexpected open door. She took a deep breath and hustled after the ‘naut, her flat shoes skidding on the dusty ground.
“Sir Tomas,” she said. “I… there’s something I wanted to ask you.”
He didn’t look at her or change his stride in the slightest as she paced him behind his left shoulder.
“It’s a little irregular, but I thought—especially if you’re interested in being open for the thrust pack demo—it might be something you wanted to hear.”
He couldn’t hear her at all, as far as she could tell. His sharp-featured face was pointed right towards the workshop door. She brushed her palms over each other and forced the words out of her mouth.
“I might want to try flying the Flicker.”
“What do you mean?” he said, not slowing down.
“I mean, in the demo. If you wanted, I could try being the test pilot.”
That actually stopped him. Sir Tomas frowned. He looked up into the sky, tilting his head. “Did you really just ask me that?”
Ensie looked at the ground. She laced her fingers together as he went on.
“What in the flames is wrong with you? You’re not trained for flight.”
“The Flicker’s a concept vehicle, sir. Nobody in the world is trained for it,” she said quietly.
“Junior techs don’t run Expo demonstrations.”
“In Parade squad and the Civics, they do. In Recon, the whole squad demos together.”
“When was the last time the Recon squad did anything interesting?” he sneered.
She looked up at his profile, not knowing what to say. He was staring back at the workshop door. The lines in his face were deep and dark.
“I don’t think you could handle it,” he said.
Ensie felt a little unsteady. She locked her knees together to keep from shrinking away.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, sir,” she said. “And I’d love the chance to prove that I can.”
He glanced at her, eyes landing somewhere around her waist. There was no breeze now that the Flicker was off, and Ensie’s forehead was beading with sweat.
“Did Iggy put you up to this, junior tech?” Tomas asked, with real curiosity in his voice.
“No, sir.”
He nodded slowly. “You understand how funny it’ll look to the other teams if I let my junior tech make the demo flight.”
“But if you’ve been suddenly called up for the thrust pack demo, they’ll understand.”
His eyes shifted back and forth as he thought. His thin lips curled up in a smile.
“Oh, Chatty Ensie. It’s a thrill to show off for the crowd,” he said. “Awe is a tangible thing. Being the focus of all that excitement and all that anticipation makes you feel… powerful. Important.” He put his hands on his hips and laughed, looking up at the sky again. “I doubt you’ll like it, but… burn it, you know? Everyone should feel that way once in their lives, and who knows when you’ll have that chance again!”
She pressed her lips together and made herself shrug pleasantly.
“I’ll talk availability with Dame Guernsey,” Sir Tomas went on. “If I can swing my way onto the thrust pack project, your little wish is granted. You can leap around on the silver roach as much as you like.”
Despite his best efforts, her heart started beating with excitement. “Thank you. Thank you, sir. It’s a real honor.”
“Spheres, tech,” he snorted. “If you get this excited about doing other people’s chores, come iron my shirts sometime.”
He turned his back on her abruptly and went walking towards the workhouse. “Be sure you juice up those ranine coils,” he said. “Four meters? That’s a flaming embarrassment. If you’re going to be a real Aerial for once, I want to see you grab some air.”
A real Aerial.
All his insults washed past her. Those mumbled words lifted out of the sentence and hung in the air long after Sir Tomas was gone. Ensie Thalanquin brushed the sweat off her forehead and felt her body quivering as the anxiety of the moment drained away. She rushed back over to the sandbags, where Iggy was glowering at the Flicker with her arms across her chest.
“What was that about?” the senior tech asked, preoccupied. “Did he have anything else to say for himself?”
“Actually,” Ensie said, “I’ve got some news.”
Cooper relaxed into the kiss. Both of her hands were touching his face, with her palms cradling his cheeks and her fingertips gently stroking the place where his too-long sideburns began. Her lips were soft and wet and endlessly fascinating.
“Good day at work?” he rumbled, a grin on his dampened lips.
“I’m a real Aerial,” Ensie said.
Tears sprang into her eyes. Cooper’s smile went upside-down with concern and he stooped over to bring his face to her level. Ensie patted his chest, trying to smile at him, but a thread of sobs pulled its way up her throat. She began to cry, the quiet sound filling the close air of the back office at Upforth’s Hydraulics.
She shuddered quietly, ashamed and frustrated by the little noises coming out of her mouth and the hot tears pooling in her eyes. Cooper’s hands shifted up to her shoulder blades and folded around her like a warm, thick quilt.
Through her tears, Ensie had the presence of mind to press her calf against the still-open door behind them, sliding it gently closed. It was after hours, yes, but Upforth or any of the other employees could easily have wandered through the hallway at any moment with all the Expo work left to do. Cooper smiled and shook his head. I wonder what it’s like to be that smart, he thought.
“Well, this is real sexy,” Ensie snuffled, wiping her eyes on his collar.
“What happened?”
She took a deep breath and let it out in a slow stream of air, willing the spasms in her chest to settle down. Ensie looked up into his face. “I’m going to fly the Flicker.”
His eyes got wide as she told him everything about the morning’s test, and the brief-but-momentous conversation with Sir Tomas.
“Upforth loses interest in projects all the time,” Cooper said, marveling, “but I can’t even imagine him backing away from a chance to take the credit.”
“I mean, maybe he’s smarter than me,” Ensie shrugged. “If the Flicker is really as doomed as he thinks it is, then it probably is the better career move to ditch it early and be flunky number two on the thrust pack project instead.”
“I don’t think this guy is smarter than you.”
Ensie considered. “I don’t think so either.”
Cooper laughed and kissed her on the top of her head. “A smart, sexy Petronaut test pilot, coming over after hours to see a guy like me.”
“Yeah, so I can leak my eyes all over your shirt.”
He rubbed her arms. “What did you mean, a real Aerial?” he asked.
Ensie smoothed out a lock of her hair through her fingers. She was acutely aware of how small the office was, and felt that tightness in her chest rising up again.
“I’m not fun,” she said. “I’m bad at cussing people out. I don’t come up with big ideas. I’m scared of big risks. I’m… I don’t look like… I’m not much to look at. I just get my work done, day after day, as the years go past.” Ensie gave him a lopsided smile. “What about that says ‘Aerial’ to you?”
“Hey.” Cooper struggled to put something into words. “They’re… they’re lucky to have you.”
She raised a hand and drew his arm down along her side, laced her fingers between his. Their clasped hands rested against her hip.
“I think I can be better,” she whispered. “I think I can do bigger things. I think I’m ready to try.” Her lip trembled again. “And in their own backhanded, patronizing way,” she smiled, eyes watering, “I think Iggy and Sir Tomas are on my side.”
Cooper squeezed her hand. “They’re not the only ones,” he said.
Ensie looked up at him, her golden brown eyes glowing.
“I want you to see me fly,” she said impulsively.
“I’ll be in the front row.”
“I want you to see me practice. I’ve got four days until the Expo, so I’m going to be practicing every instant I can. When can you get off of work?”
He made a face. “If Upforth isn’t on me about something, which he usually is these days… six-thirty?”
“Come tomorrow. Iggy and I are re-tooling the props in the morning, but by evening we’ll be ready for a manned test. Our testing field is, oh, behind the drafting building. How to explain? If you’re facing the city walls, take the dirt path from the back door of drafting, go past two buildings until you come past the meeting house—tall, triangular roof—and then turn right. Look for the third field…”
She trailed off as Cooper started shaking with laughter. “You’re just going to ask someone, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“How can you live in the biggest city on the Thrust and be so bad at following directions?”
“Delia’s pedicab drivers need someone to haul around. If I learned how to get myself from place to place, they’d be out of work! Us private sector goons need to stick together.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“No. You’re ridiculous for being so hard to find. Would it kill you to wear a bell or something?”
“I’m not wearing a bell,” she said through her giggles.
Cooper’s eyes lit up. He held up one finger as he turned away to the secretary desk nearby, sliding open a thin drawer. Metal pieces sifted over each other with a rustling sound as he searched the drawer. He pulled up a tiny brass bell, which clattered brusquely in the palm of his hand.
“We’ve got a million of these from a decorative carriage we’re contracted for,” he said. Cooper pinched a small length of chain between his fingers and slid the metal loop on top of the bell over the chain.
“I’m not wearing a bell,” Ensie objected.
“Give me your arm.” Cooper fastened the eyeclasp of the chain shut. He let the bell dangle and it rang with a nicer tone now that it wasn’t muffled against his skin. The thin loop of chain was too big for a bracelet and too small for a necklace.
“I’m not wearing it! I’m not!” she squealed, flailing delightedly as he grasped her wrist and slipped the loop past her fingers. Ensie tilted her arm down and made a fist, and the circle of metal dropped right over her hand and onto the floor.
“I told you,” she said.
Cooper slowly sank to one knee. She watched him, feeling the breath come rapidly in her chest from the laughter and the excitement. He picked up the chain. With both hands, he gripped the cuff of her pants and slowly pressed it up her leg, his palms brushing against the bare skin of her calf. She found herself playing with his hair as he opened the chain up and fastened it around her leg. It draped against her ankle with a pure ringing sound that faded an instant after it began.
“How’s that?”
“I’m not wearing it,” she whispered down at him.
Cooper shrugged. “You can always take it off.”
His eyes widened as a pile of fabric appeared on the office floor.
“Or that,” he said. “Wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but—”
“Liar,” Ensie said as she knelt down over him.
During the endless hours of fiddling with the propellers in the workroom the next morning, Sir Tomas strolled through and blandly informed the techs that he was going to be working with Dame Guernsey and the thrust pack team for the rest of the week.
“I’ll be staying current on your reports, of course,” he said.
“Do you ever?”
“And I’m fairly certain my day-of schedule will allow me to watch our demonstration,” he went on, ignoring Iggy’s jab completely. “But if the thrust pack team needs me… you understand.”
“We understand, sir,” Ensie said, her head feeling light with the news. “Congratulations.”
He tapped the toe of his brown boot against the Flicker’s propeller housing. “I expect this thing to really launch by the time you’re done
with it. Don’t be timid!”
Don’t be timid, she thought, pulling the goggles over her eyes. Four meters off the ground counts as timid, so don’t be timid.
“Take it easy, now,” Iggy shouted over the noise of the propellers. The senior tech was leaning forward over the nose of the Flicker. Ensie could feel the craft’s suspension shifting through her chair as Iggy pressed her weight forward on the thin nose. “First, three light hops. Then we try to glide. Okay?”
“Okay,” Ensie shouted back. She gave a thumbs-up too, the gloves feeling very big over her hands. She would probably ask the outfitters to take a closer look at her pilot suit again after this test. It still wasn’t feeling secure.
Or maybe you’re just being timid, Ensie.
She clenched and unclenched her fingers around the handlebars as Iggy sprinted away towards the sandbag wall. Think of the other test pilots. Think of what Sir Tomas is going to be doing. Much higher altitudes, and much, much higher velocities. Do you think they send their suits back for re-sewing a dozen times? You’re a real Aerial now. Start acting like one.
Afternoon was turning into evening, and they didn’t have too many hours of daylight to spare. With her hands wound tightly around the handlebars, Ensie tapped her boot against the left pedal.
There was a basso whoosh from beneath her, loud, but with no sharpness to it, like the sound of a puddle of petrolatum lighting up all at once. Air and acceleration pressed her firmly into her seat. Through the thin lenses of her goggles, she could see the eaves of the slope-roofed lodge and other Aerials walking along the paths in the compound. She twisted to look over her shoulder at the measuring pylon, but was already starting to descend when she caught a glimpse of the blocky numbers at eye level reading 3 m 250.
The Flicker’s nose was pitched a few degrees down when she turned back around. She could see much more of the ground than she wanted to, and much less of the sky and the buildings. Ensie pulled both handlebars towards her, trying to keep her movements even. The propellers swiveled so their blades were pointing forward, kicking up dust vapor beneath the Flicker’s silver tip. She felt the machine drift backwards very slightly at the same time as the nose lifted up and the Flicker straightened out again.