Mountain
Sometimes, you've just got to keep climbing....
June 2024
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
Sometimes, you've just got to keep climbing....
June 2024
Quote:---------________________________________
"That's crazy!"
Kotono's declaration caused silence to fall in the cafe. The metallic clink of cutlery from the kitchen filled the. Daryl looked down at the croissant on her plate, feeling the eyes of everyone fall on her.
"Tell me about it...", she said.
"But a chemical rocket? How crazy do you have to be to want to sit inside a converted missile on top of gallons of peroxide and kerosene, then get shot out of a tube to scream across space at the Limit?"
"I'm not crazy." Daryl said, wearing a sour pout. "I don't want to do it either but if I don't then people are going to keep looking at what we're doing out here.""
"Well, better you than me," Kotono answered cheerfully, gently stirring the tea in her cup with a plastic tab. " But I don't think that's why you invited me here for lunch."
She placed the stirrer on the saucer, before taking a single sip of the green liquid.
Daryl looked away. "She refitted my hardsuit, despite me telling her not to..."
Kotono's eyebrows arched up as the implication struck. She placed her cup back down on the table.
"So, it is permanent?"
Daryl grimaced, clenching her fist tightly. The plastic squeaked as her grip tightined. "Biopolymer epidermal matrix or something technical like that. I forget what Bashir called it exactly but it's like it melted into the cells or something."
"It's your skin?"
"Pretty much," she confirmed "Plastic skin."
"You haven't spoken to Jet about it?"
A flash of anger crossed Daryl's face. She loomed forwards. "You know what she's like - she'll tell me how I have to get used to it and accept it and adapt to the new normality of life but I don't want to fucking do that!" Again, silence fell as the echoes of her voice died down. "I don't want this to be normal."
"It's not an admission of defeat..." said Kotono, mildly.
"Yes. It is." Daryl stated, glaring hard at her. "It means that whoever did this beat me. It means I let them beat me"
"What about surgery then?"
The tension drained out of Daryl's body. She took breath, settling back down into her chair. "Yeah, I was told it'd be possible using the same synthskin procedure they use for serious burn victims but I'd need at least a month to recover from it and I can't do that while racing and then there's the mission to Arcadia after that and....." She paused a moment, gathering herself before her emotions caught up again. She forced herself to squelch it all back down, pressing it right down through the soles of her feet. "You probably wouldn't understand."
Kotono nodded, flexing her foot under the table as she fell back into the memory. "When I injured my ankle, I refused to let it beat me - especially with Jeanne's dance coming up. I tried to suck it up. All I did was make the damage permanent and cheat myself out of the final. Why do you think I wear a brace when jogging?" She took a breath, finding herself growing more and more aware of the stiffness that still lingered in her ankle. "If you try to keep something from beating you like that, you only end up beating yourself."
"This is different. This is something somebody did to me... " Daryl pointed at her own chest.
"And it'll tear you apart if you keep going," added Kotono.
"What the fuck am I supposed to do? I can't take time off racing - not when it's so close, not when I have a chance of really winning the thing." Daryl was already halfway to het feet. And since it's some prick's race-fixing attempt if I take time off then he does win because he changes the outcome in his favour."
Kotono edged back in her chair slightly. "My point is, he doesn't win if you allow yourself to adapt,"
"Maybe."Daryl sat back down, exhaling a long, tired sigh. "It would've been easier if it'd been an accident."
She opened her mouth to say something else. The only sound that came out was the warbling ringtone of her pocket communicator. Growling, she removed it from it's pouch, pinning it between her ear and shoulder.
"Yeah, what is it?" A dark shadow crossed her face. "You're kidding." She grimaced, a low growl rising in her throat. "Two days? Fine, fine." A frustrated sigh escaped her lips as she stuffed the communicator back into its pouch. She buried her face in her hands, before running her hands through her air. A few stray silver strands shone up in the light.
Those are new, Kotono thought. She decided not to comment.
Daryl looked around, taking a few moments to take in the cafe which had returned to its usual life once more. She looked up at Kotono for a second, tired lines stretching around the edges of her eyes.
"Why is it starting to feel like I'm climbing out from under a mountain only to have another one dropped on top of me?"
"What is it?"
Daryl grimaced at her. "ConSec want to inspect Lun for PEPPER violations."
Kotono used her cup of tea to hide her expression. "When it doesn't rain, it pours."
------
There were her concerns for Daryl's wellbeing. There was the Knight Sabers and their money laundering cover, Stingray engineering. Sylia's facade had to be maintained. There was Lun and the mission to Arcadia which had enough of its own momentum now to keep moving without her. The Patrol inspection ate a day but provided nobody accidentally ran the inspector down while he or she was being shown around, it was just an annoyance. There was Asagiri and the upcoming race which demanded a good showing. Then there was Survival Shot and an upcoming bid for a contract to train Tango Shoes. There was her own Blitzkrieg school. There were Convention preparations to be finished - including a speed record attempt that just had to look legitimate even if it was never going to succeed. Elections to send some poor fool to Venus for parliament. Coursework from a correspondence Masters through VIR still waited for completion. The mine ran itself, thank fuck - it had nothing to do with her - not until something broke. Friggan maintenance was a pain, made worse by the fact that people assumed she was the one who had to be responsible for it all and making sure everything ran tickety-boo.
Oh, and someone was organising Rose Duels on the gantries under the accommodation block.
The weight of it dragged down on her shoulders. She stared up the lift shaft, eyes picking out a single point of light kilometres above. With her eyes, she could read the writing on the top of the shaft, dating back to original owners.
Mayor's residence.
Her home, as it were. After five days awake, she needed to recharge her batteries. It beckoned to her.
The weight of it all kept her from just boosting up. For one thing, the tunnel-boom bothered people when it echoed through the tunnels. They'd asked her to stop. She paced around the lift-carriage, feeling restless despite her fatigue. She reached out through her interfaces and hooked into the local network, searching for something to occupy her mind.
The notification of inspection from the Space Patrol loomed large in her inbox, along with a load of waffle from a few of the ML's she subscribed to, a software upgrade to patch a vulnerability in her comm relay, and a confirmation of order for a pair of Kulbit racers from HAP.
That brought a smile to her face. The racer was holding its own on track. It was getting attention from the community at large. And it was actually threatening to earn enough money to pay back its development costs.
That'd be refreshing.
It was a sign of progress. Things were moving forward. It was a hint of success that kept her moving forward. She bitterly noted it was something she did all the time with students to keep them engaged and interested. But she was too tired to be so cynical.
The light at the end of the tunnel grew closer with every passing second, promising the warm feeling of electric current flowing through her body. And Ford. It felt like it'd been an age since she'd seen her. Her heart began to ache and, unable to contain herself, she roared into the air. It took her seconds to reach the top of the shaft, emerging into hot sunshine and the smell of freshly cut grass.
Followed The familiar scent of lavender perfume and coffee tickled her nostrils. The expression of surprise on Ford's face was as welcome as her presence. She'd been waiting on the lift herself. Jet landed deftly on the gravel in front of her.
"Who's this mysterious sexy stranger in her white armour?" asked Ford, a teasing smile crawling across her lips.
"Has it really been that long?" An impish grin lit up Jet's face. "Maybe we should spend some time getting to know each other again..."
"I wish," Ford exhaled a heavy sigh, dashing the cyber's hopes."But I need to get the Sixty-Special finished and delivered by the sixth or I don't get paid. On top of the usual crap. And something for convention and the last of that FESWAT order, then maintenance and repairs, apprentice interviews, my certifications, PEPPER paperwork, my Bounty Hunter's license, and......" She took a long, deep breath, the weight of it all hanging off her shoulders.
Jet grimaced, letting the energy drain out of her. "I guess this is the price of success, isn't it?"
Jet placed a metal hand gently on Ford's cheek. The warmth of Ford's bare hand on her own cheek was still staggering. Jet bathed in the sensation, clearer and sharper than any puppet was capable of transmitting.
Ford smiled reassuringly at her. "We're nearly to the top of the hill... Just one more hard mountain and we'll get over the top and coast down the other side."
------
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?