NaNoWriMo: Days 5-8
Nov. 14th, 2012 11:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
polychrome_penPrompt 5: Gloves
Orak opened the crystal reactor chamber and plucked the hot, cracked crystal out of its setting, glad for the thousandth time that day for the shed dragonskin gloves Zarkan had given him last year. They were excellent insulators, but allowed enough dexterity for even the finer manipulations his job often required.
“Load ‘em up, boys,” Orak told his team, who were taking three new crystals from the extra storage department. He made his way to the control center. “We’re dropping to 1300 VPS, boys – speed it up! The last thing we need is an airquake!” he barked.
Orak breathed a mental sigh of relief once the three new crystals were in place and his velociwhirl per second meter registered the standard 1500 VPS he liked to see. Each batch of crystals was good anywhere from eight to twelve hours, so he went through this song and dance routine up to three times a day (or more if those darn dragonators brought him a bum batch of crystals).
Moving on to check his storage supply, Orak frowned. Only five crystals left; he’d better contact Aaron and review the dragonator launch schedule a little later. But at the moment Orak was starving.
“All right you rivetheads,” he told his crew. “I’m going to grab some lunch – if I see my soup so much as jiggle you’re all going to be doing a maintenance sweep!” Sometimes Orak thought he lived for the terrified looks he could provoke from his workers.
Feeling inordinately satisfied with himself, Orak sauntered down the hallway to the Replimat. Grabbing a tray, he picked out the corn chowder from the selection available, which poured into a bowl. Food in Airlandis was an interesting thing – they grew what they could in the Aeroponics bays, but often had to use matter resynthesizers to change organic material gathered from Old Earth (not the dragonators’ favorite job) into something non-toxic and actually edible. Most meals were taken communal style in the Replimat, though most living quarters came equipped with beverage dispensers.
Orak took his tray and looked around for an open seat. The Replimat was usually crowded around the midday meal, and today was no exception. At the other end of the room, he spied Summit and Apex leaving a table where they had been sitting with their father Aaron and Orak’s niece Miriam. Orak made his way over to the table while Miriam was in the middle of a heated discussion with Aaron.
"I don't see why this isn't the right time," she said, nearly slamming her plasteel mug on the table. "If not now, when?"
Aaron shook his head. "We simply don't have the resources to allocate at this time Miriam."
Now Orak was interested. "Resources for what?" he asked.
"I want to head up a research mission to Old Earth," Miriam said.
"And I can't spare the dragonators for field research. Crystal runs have been tight lately - keeping Airlandis aloft is more important than any field research."
Miriam looked thoughtful for a moment. "What about a Strato-Glider, then?"
Orak chuckled at the foolishness of the idea. "You'd be torn apart trying to cross the Warp Winds, Miriam. Strato-Gliders were never designed to undergo that kind of stress."
"What about trying to maneuver one through a Wind Pit?" she pressed.
"Dragonators have enough trouble making it through those mazes," Aaron said. “The chances of a Strato-Glider making it through in one piece are quite slim.”
Miriam sighed and crossed her arms, clearly frustrated at the roadblocks the two men were throwing in her path. "It's just...we haven't launched a major research mission belowclouds since we lost Iranda. And now that I know there's a possibility that she's alive...it just seems right to continue her work."
Aaron placed a hand on her arm. "You know that I – more than anyone – want to drop everything and search for Iranda and the Promised Land I saw in my youth. But we still have our duties and the city to provide for. It would be plainly irresponsible to do otherwise," he said sadly.
"Not to mention we not only lost Iranda, but the Aristotle as well," Orak added. "She was a great research ship, and probably torn to scrap by the Dark Dramen."
Miriam brightened at the mention of Airlandis' old science vessel. "Why don't we build another, then? An Aristotle Mark Two?"
Orak whistled. That would take some serious resource allocation. "We'd have to get council approval for the resources in the levels you're suggesting. Remember that it took me ages to get the materials to build the Scavenger and the Warp Cannon."
"Resounding successes, both of them," Aaron teased.
Orak bristled at the jab. "The Scavenger worked perfectly, if I remember correctly," he challenged. "It was your dragons that caused the ruckus."
"Now boys, putting aside past problems," Miriam suggested, "what are we suggesting?”
Aaron tugged absently at the end of his beard. “Fully stocked laboratories, naturally.”
“Plenty of room for sample storage,” Miriam agreed, nodding her head.
Scientists, Orak moaned to himself. Couldn’t they think of anything more exciting than laboratories? He would obviously have to take charge of this discussion.
“That’s great you two. Why don’t you just set up a lab on Old Earth and have Dread Wing beating down your door within a week?” Orak pulled out the data pad he always kept in his work coat and began sketching. “No, what we need are threefold: a plasteel shell for strength and durability in order to pass through the warp winds, a couple of really high-power Wind Jammers to keep the kooks away, and a power source that will allow for far-flung expeditions. Amber crystals, of course.”
“That means you would need a team of dragonators to gather the amber periodically,” Aaron offered. “They could also provide protection if the need arose.”
Orak continued his sketch, adding four perches atop the ship. “Dragon-powered flight as well in emergency situations.”
“What kind of crew would we be talking about then in addition to a squadron of dragonators?” Miriam asked.
“Four researchers, including the pilot,” Orak said. “The accommodations might be a little cramped otherwise.”
Miriam and Aaron were practically drooling over his brilliant design. Well, obviously it was brilliant: Orak himself had designed it.
“I’d like to bring this before the Council at the earliest opportunity,” Miriam said. “Can I count on both of your support for this?”
“Of course,” said Aaron. “Being able to assign one team of Dragonators to the project won’t be as much of a problem as continually running researchers. Plus, if Orak can make good on his claims regarding this ship’s potential firepower…”
“Which I obviously can,” Orak snorted.
“…then it could open up whole new avenues for exploration for Airlandis,” Aaron finished. “Our greatest hindrance to exploration and mapping has always been the city’s need to remain in sectors close to known Amber beds. A self-sustaining mobile investigational research facility rather neatly solves that problem.”
Orak looked down at his chronometer and was shocked that he’d been gone for a couple of hours. “Well, if I don’t get back to the crystal reactors soon, those yahoos are likely to let the city start falling out of the sky.”
“Naturally, Uncle,” Miriam said.
Orak sent the design sketches to Miriam and Aaron’s data pads before leaving, and they all agreed to meet up later that evening and hammer out more of the details for the Mark Two. For the first time in ages Orak was really excited. It had been a crushing blow to lose the Scavenger on its first mission, and Orak would be lying to himself if he didn’t feel the slightest bit of betrayal that the dragonators and dragons had overall been so against his idea. But this was something different – truly man and dragon working together to find a new home for them all.
Prompt 6: Blackboard
He had faced down Dread Wing countless times, flown hundreds of successful missions to Old Earth, and beaten off the worst of the worst. He was Dragonator One, a symbol of leadership and solidarity in the Airlandis community.
So why was Z’neth so terrified of a bunch of kids?
Looking at the class of junior dragonators before him, Z’neth felt his knees go weak. He would rather face a horde of flesh-eating gremwings than supervise the yearly ritual of “First Flight.” Usually, he had Apex to help him out, and he could just stand around and be inspiring or whatever it was people thought he was. But this year she had gotten tied up in some insane secret project with their father Aaron, Orak, and Miriam. Summit was handling council duty today for Aaron, and Z’neth really didn’t want to expose the children to Peak. So he was it.
Z’neth looked over the five youngsters seated before him. (When had he started to think of the junior dragonators as youngsters? Just a few years ago Peak and Nora had been in those seats. By Riptor’s wings, he was getting old.) Tommy and Lucy were there; Lucy had bonded with Clawfire, finally ending the speculation as to which of the two children he would choose. But Tommy didn’t have much time to be sad, as Sky Fury’s cub Icefire chose him soon after.
Z’neth cleared his throat before addressing the children. “Welcome to your day of First Flight, junior dragonators. Some of you,” he looked pointedly at Tommy and Lucy, “have flown a dragon before, but today is the day you will first put together your dragonator Exo-Wing and Wind Jammer training with dragon riding. And I will remind you it’s much harder than it looks.”
He walked to the front of the small lecture hall, and picked up the first of five helmets laid out before them. As he called each of their names, each of the new dragonators came forward to accept the official symbol of their new profession. “Your helmet is your lifeline,” Z’neth said. It connects you to your fellow dragonators and Skywatch. It contains a homing beacon that can be traced by every dragonator, along with telescopic and night vision filters.” Z’neth demonstrated by activating the very technical-looking visor that covered his eyes.
After going through a very dull refresher on the vox-box, exo-wings, and wind jammer safety, Z’neth decided to get the kids out into the fresh air. Maybe he would wake up too.
Standing on the golden promontory that served as the dragonators main take-off and landing strip, Z’neth led the juniors in a chorus of “Dragon Flyz, Maximize!” Exo-wings appeared from the backs of six flight suits as they took to the skies. Z’neth heard a familiar roar of greeting as his big blue dragon Riptor flew out to meet them, trailing Clawfire and the other young dragons.
“Dragonators, mount your dragons!” he called out.
It wasn’t a pretty sight. Lucy completely overshot Clawfire and smacked into one of the other dragonators, sending them both spiraling out of control, while Icefire got spooked and flashed another dragon with his freezing breath (Z’neth was reminded yet again how much he wanted to punch Gangryn for genetically messing with Sky Fury’s cub). Z’neth dove after Lucy and her peer, while Riptor marshaled the two dragons into some semblance of order.
“Well, that was…interesting,” Z’neth commented. He could hear the crowd up in Skywatch practically splitting with laughter at the mess in front of them. “All right; back in formation, Flyz!” he ordered.
The junior dragonators scrambled to follow his commands. After a few minutes they were (mostly) all seated appropriately on their dragons. Z’neth sighed. How did Apex go through his every year?
He paired them off (taking Lucy to work with himself), and had them practice flying formations and drills to get them comfortable on their scalebacks. “Your dragon is your greatest ally! You are nominally in control, but trust their instinct. Riptor has saved my life on many occasions.” Riptor let out a roar in affirmation. After a half hour more of practice, they were at least all sitting correctly.
“Let’s try something a little different for your First Flight,” Z’neth told the group over his vox-box. “Skywatch, do you detect any activity beneath us that would suggest mutants or Dark Dramen?”
“Negative, Dragonator One,” Skywatch answered. “You’ve got clear skies beneath you.”
“Good. I’m taking the junior dragonators below for a bit through the nearest Wind Pit. We shouldn’t be down long – an hour at the most. Z’neth out.”
“Z’neth, are you sure it’s really okay for us to go down there?” Tommy asked. “Not that I’m scared or anything!”
“Tommy, don’t be a hatchling!” Lucy scoffed. “Z’neth is the best dragonator there is. Even if we did run into Dread Wing, he wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Z’neth shook his head. “Never underestimate you opponents, Lucy. Especially Dread Wing. He hasn’t held Warnado for twenty-five years based on his good looks.” Changing the subject, Z’neth said, “All right, Flyz – we move single file through the Wind Pits. Always keep the person in front of you in your sights, and maintain an open vox channel at all times. Now follow Riptor and I.”
Riptor plunged into the open maw of the Wind Pit, and Z’neth tasted his first whiff of the rot and decay that characterized Old Earth. Riptor moved with ease through the honeycombed Wind Pit, though he agreed with Z’neth to take it slow in order to allow the junior dragonators to follow easily. As the group moved toward the Wind Pit’s base, the air became hotter and fetid, burning Z’neth’s eyes and nose.
Spying the light that signified an opening in the mountain’s base, Z’neth directed Riptor through it and into the largest grouping of lavabeasts Z’neth had ever seen.
“Pull up!” Z’neth commanded his dragonators. But it was too late. Tommy and the girl following him spiraled out of control at the sight of the fearsome lavabeasts. They became entangled and crashed on the shore of the lava pit.
“Dragonator down! I repeat, dragonator down!” Z’neth yelled into his vox box. Lavabeasts were making their way toward the downed dragons and their riders. Z'neth tapped his gauntlet, activating the Wind Jammer. Aiming carefully, he fired several warning shots into the lava beasts in an effort to turn them away from the junior dragonators.
Activating his exo-wings, Z'neth flew off of Riptor, who flew close to the lavabeasts, warding them off. Z'neth angled toward the children. How could he have been so careless to have let this happen? He was supposed to be more responsible, dammit! If anything happened to his charges, he wasn't sure what he would do.
Landing by the dragonators, he held Tommy's face in his hands. Good, they were both breathing. "All right, Tom, chin up, stay with me now!" Z'neth practically yelled as the young boy drifted in and out of consciousness. Z'neth synced their helmets, reading out the medical statistics that Tommy's helmet recorded. The boy's leg was broken, but thankfully there didn't seem to be any internal injuries or cranial bleeds.
Riptor and the other dragons forced the lava beasts away as Z'neth examined the girl. She was in worse shape with both a broken arm and a lung that looked on the verge of collapse. Shit. Working fast, he secured her helmet into oxygenation mode and shut the faceplate. Z'neth didn't want to transport either of them in their current condition without a medic looking at them. Reaching into Icefire's saddle pack, Z'neth removed two sublingual pain tablets and placed them under Tommy and the girl's tongues. They dissolved instantly, and Z'neth could see the two youngsters bodies relax.
"Z'neth, what happened to Tommy and Ava?" Lucy said, breathless as she ran up.
"The situation isn't good," he answered. "Tommy has a broken leg, but Ava is worse off. She'll need a medical capsule for safe transport back to Airlandis." He opened a channel to Skywatch and communicated the situation to them. They said they would send a dragonator and a medic team with a capsule immediately, but that the Warp Winds had swallowed the Wind Pit entrance they had gone through initially. The next closest one would add at least three hour to the journey.
Lucy started to cry then, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Z'neth put a hand on her shoulder. "There will be time enough for that later, Lucy. Right now Tommy and Ava need us."
She nodded without speaking before wiping her face. Z'neth turned to the two boys. "All right gentlemen, I need you to scout the perimeter for any signs of Dark Dramen, mutants, or lavabeast activity. Can you do that?"
"Yes sir!" they replied in unison before hopping onto their dragons and taking off in an ever-widening circle around the group.
Z'neth looked at the desolation surrounding them, hoping to find shelter of some sort for their group. He spied what appeared to be a small not far away. Too small for the dragons, but plenty large enough to get their injured teammates under cover. "Lucy, help me move these two to that cave." She nodded, and they assembled a field stretcher out of Lucy's saddle. Z'neth carefully moved the two children onto the saddle, and they dragged it over the terrain to the cave mouth. Z'neth switched on his helmet's lamp and scouted the cave, making sure it was clear of gremwings or any other nasty surprises.
"Looks clear, Lucy. Let's bring them in," Z'neth said. After they were all settled, Z'neth communicated their location to Airlandis and the two junior dragonators scouting in the field. They and their dragons hadn't spotted anything, so Z'neth recalled them and stood guard himself.
The minutes seemed to stretch into hours as the junior dragonators huddled in the cave, with Z'neth standing guard outside. The reek of decay and death that Old Earth always had was ever present.
"Z'neth, will they be okay?" Lucy asked.
He simply shrugged in response. "I don't know for certain. But they are strong, and their dragons are with them. Remember that things like this can happen when you choose a life of service to Airlandis as a dragonator."
The children wore somber expressions as they digested that fact. Z’neth tried distracting them for a while with stories of battles against Dread Wing and the mutants, which at the very least perked the children up, and they peppered him with questions.
“Dragonator One, come in,” a voice crackled to life on Z’neth’s vox box. “Please give us your position.”
“This is Dragonator One!” Z’neth said, excited that help was close at hand. “We’re in a cave at the west end of the lava pit. You should be able to see Riptor quite easily.”
“Confirmed. We are preparing for landing,” the voice replied.
Z’neth dusted himself off and scanned the sky for a scaleback. Off in the distance, he could make out a brown smudge. Z’neth guided them in with a flash from his Wind Jammer. As the dragon got closer, Z’neth saw that it was Shockfire and Dram carrying a medic and the medical transport capsule. Z’neth felt he was never quite so glad to see his big brother as he was at that moment.
Shockfire made a smooth landing, and Dram came down and helped load the two children into the capsule, which immediately began the healing process as directed by the medic. Dram passed out some rations to the remaining kids, who devoured them eagerly.
“Well Z’neth, I see you’ve finally made a mess of something,” Dram chided. “Peak would be most proud of you.”
Z’neth rolled his eyes. “Let’s see how well he does next year. I’m giving him this assignment. Character building and all that.”
As the group loaded up onto their dragons and secured the medical capsule on Shockfire, one of the boys asked a question. “Z’neth, why would anyone choose to be a dragonator, knowing all the terrible things that can happen down here? Why not stay in Airlandis where it’s safe?”
Z’neth smiled at him as he mounted Riptor. “Because you get the chance to fly.”
Prompt 7: Muse
The wind howled with unabated fury, tearing at his cloak and trying to dig its way into any exposed surface of his skin. Sandstorms were a common thing in these hellish deserts. They scoured the mountains into dust, and carved great valleys. But this storm was particularly brutal, and it matched Cifex’s mood perfectly.
He could remember everything – the machine that built him, the technicians who repaired him after every mission, the comrades he had lost in the war. And of course Cifex remembered the Great Cataclysm of the 31st century. How the skies across the Earth had turned bright, then black as night. How earthquakes and tsunamis demolished every coastline across the world. The fields full of the dead.
And the mutants. He could never forget the mutants born of the Cataclysm, for they plunged what was left of the world into an everlasting hell.
The wars had always been between those who viewed technology as the key to progress and enlightenment, and those who sought perfection through genetic engineering. Cifex was a genetic construct – though he was covered in synthetic flesh, his bones were bio-alloy and his brain a neuroprocessor. He had fought with thousands of android soldiers who shared his face for ideals he was programmed to believe, cutting down “genetic freaks” like wheat.
But the Cataclysm had put an end to all of that. His memory files didn’t say who was responsible, and now more than a thousand years later, Cifex found he didn’t much care. Cifex didn’t remember how long he spent in the bunker fighting off mutants and other creatures who ventured too close. But he was certain he had to have spent at least part of that millennium in a stasis tube. Without anyone to repair him, Cifex had transferred his neural net and memory engrams from shell to shell until something had gone corrupt and caused him to forget that he had never been a human.
And then he had met her, and everything changed. Cifex’s hand moved instinctively to his pocket, feeling the dried petals of the flower he had found in the desert upon awakening in the last of the android bodies. He was lucky his emergency neural net transfer protocols were still in place, or he would have died on top of Warnado, burnt by Blackheart’s flame.
Maybe it would have been better that way. Or maybe it would have been better that those Dark Dramen killed him in the desert before they had met. Better than to have hurt Apex.
Though he never truly slept, sometimes Cifex could have sworn he dreamed of her. Her auburn hair cascading water in the ocean biosphere, her fuchsia lips tugging to one side in a wicked grin. He tried to tell himself it was better this way, as he had told her at their parting; the truth was she had shown him what it meant to live, and Cifex would carry her face with him as long as he wandered the desolate remains of Old Earth.
Cifex had made it his mission in life to seek out any remaining human survivors on Old Earth. He knew the Dragon Flyz were busy gathering amber crystals to keep the city of Airlandis afloat; that the scouting mission they had found him on had almost been a fluke. Apex had told him all about the Airlandean’s search for a new terrestrial homeland, their near misses like the beautiful valley and Mount Alayas. And she told him of the daring Captain Elias Bristol who had spoken of an oasis twenty-five years after the Cataclysm, and of her father’s glimpse of such a place in his youth.
Cifex thought that if he could find some way to help Apex – help humanity – he might in some way atone for his past atrocities. He might be worthy of Apex’s love.
And along the way, he would destroy any remaining 30th century weaponry he came across. Better that the world never have access to that kind of destructive force ever again.
The bunker where he had spent the better part of a millennium was only one of a series of military buildings. Cifex had downloaded all pertinent data he could recover from the bunker’s computer system, then used a plasma grenade to blow it up. He would never go back.
Cifex walked for days through the burning deserts, his hooded cloak hiding his human semblance from any passing mutants and Dark Dramen. Cifex knew he was slowly but surely making his way to the main compound where he had been stationed. There, he hoped to pick up some kind of vehicle to speed his travels and offer some kind of protection from the elements.
When he saw the tops of the buildings emerging from the sand, at first he almost believed it to be a mirage. Closer inspection proved that acquiring a vehicle would not be as simple as he had previously thought. The compound had had over a thousand years to be buried by the shifting sands of the desert. Cifex frowned, unsure of how to access the building’s interior. He searched for some time, finally coming across an access hatch on the roof of one of the buildings.
The keypad and electronics that had given the lock power were long since dead. Using a laser cutter he had taken from the bunker, Cifex sliced through the access hatch locking mechanism, then used his hands to pull back the door on completely rusted hinges.
The interior of the structure was dark and forbidding, and Cifex felt lucky that he didn’t require oxygen, as the air was still and undisturbed for centuries. Cifex activated his sonar mapping system, which sent out periodic energy pulses that reflected the tomography of the building’s as he moved through it. When he had first arrived here as a combat android, Cifex had seen very little of the command center before he was shipped off to areas where the fighting was located.
Strangely, Cifex found the metallic hallways and severe design choices somewhat…comforting? If not that, then nostalgically familiar at the very least. Airlandis had been all curving lines and tall shapes. Here, things were regimented and squared off. Military precision at every turn.
After hours of exploration and mapping, Cifex reached what he believed to be the compound’s command center. It was laid out in a circle surrounding a central holo-unit used for viewing the battles. Using a few spare power cells he had recovered, Cifex booted up one of the computer terminals and began his search. Oasis, not unexpectedly, brought up no results pertinent results. Galileo got him several hits on the space station, which he downloaded to his central data storage unit. Military installations got him so many results he didn’t even know where to begin, though most of the data required a far higher clearance level than he had ever possessed. Cifex tried accessing the military satellites that he knew had been in use during the 30th century, only to find that he could not make contact with any of them. They had likely all crashed into the Warp Winds centuries ago.
Trying another search for Settlements was like finding a gold mine. Complete with latitude and longitudinal coordinates, he had found a list of all known human settlements left in the wake of the Great Cataclysm. Oddly, he had also found references to a Starship Explorer, which sounded fascinating. Downloading the information to his central storage unit, Cifex set the computer to calculate a pathway to exploring as many of them as possible.
While the terminal processed his request, Cifex began his search for transportation. Something that ran on amber crystals would have been prime, considering their abundance on Old Earth’s surface. But that kind of technology had been science fiction in the 30th century. Cold fusion had been the technology du jour of the day. Cifex located the hangar and made his way down.
The hangar was a huge building with a ceiling that opened to the sky (Cifex hoped it still did, anyway, and that he wouldn’t have tons of sand pouring in on top of him). Looking over the vehicles that were still left, his steel heart sank a little. Most were rusted-out hulks, and whatever wasn’t was obviously battle damaged. The best had likely been taken in whatever evacuation the compound had gone through. But back in the corner, a glint caught his eye. Picking his way through the wreckage, Cifex found a small four-soldier hovercraft that appeared to be in working order. Opening up the back, he found he was in luck! The cold fusion reactor was still operational.
Cifex returned to the command center and collected his downloaded data. At the last minute he grabbed a stray holocube and downloaded a mental image he had saved of Apex. It projected the image in crystal clarify, and for a moment Cifex forgot that he was alone.
Turning off the cube with a sigh, Cifex stuffed it into his pocket and started back to his hovercraft. He would not fail Apex and the people of Airlandis. A stray bit of poetry ran through his head:
”But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep
… And miles to go before I sleep.”
Prompt 8: Magic
"Hold still Z’neth," Apex muttered as she adjusted her older brother's dress uniform. She adjusted the high collar, and pinned her brother’s V-shaped lapel pin to his sash. Stepping back, Apex surveyed her handiwork. “Well, I think you look almost presentable now,” she said with a chuckle.
“Ha ha, sis.” Z’neth said, rolling his eyes at her. His look softened as he added, “But thank you. By the way, you look lovely yourself.”
Apex smiled. “You like it? I based the design on the dress mother was wearing in that holo message.” Wearing something like her mother – something flowing and gorgeous – was a change for Apex, who usually dressed down. But tonight for the Dragonator Ball, Apex had the desire to glam it up a little. Z’neth picked up her sash from the settee, and helped her into it.
“And now you both look very official,” their father, Aaron, said, floating into the room, already in his dress uniform. He took Apex’s hand and gave her a twirl. She relished the way her gown swished and sparkled. “Dragonator One and Two never looked as quite as distinguished, I think,” he said with a smile.
“Maybe it’s Z’neth’s hair,” Apex offered. “It was getting a bit long, you know.” Apex felt a small amount of victory tonight, as she had finally gotten all three of her brothers to get proper haircuts. They all looked rather dashing now, she thought.
Aaron cleared his throat. “I wanted to give you something tonight, Apex. Something that was your mother’s. It never felt right to take out before, but I was hoping you might wear it tonight, so that she would be with us in at least some small way.”
Aaron held out a small antique wooden chest. Apex slowing opened it, inhaling the scent. Inside were a beautiful diamond necklace and a pair of white opera gloves. “Oh Father, are you sure?” she asked apprehensively.
“So long as you don’t spill punch on them, I think,” Z’neth said. He took out the necklace and gingerly clasped it around Apex’s neck, where it glimmered like a million tiny stars. When combined with the gloves, it added just the right elegant touch.
Apex saw tears at the corner of her Father’s eyes. She embraced him, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you Father.” Taking one of his arms, she held the other to Z’neth. “Well, my wonderful gentlemen, shall we be on our way? I’m afraid the best part of the evening might already be over, seeing as how we’ll be trapped making small talk for hours from this point forward, but at least we all look dashing.”
*****
Summit tugged on his dress shirt as he stood in front of Miriam’s apartment. Why was he so nervous? He had known Miriam forever – what was there to be nervous about? Holding the rose he had gotten permission to pick (from his own father’s garden), Summit knocked on the door.
“It’s open – come on in!” he heard a muffled voice through the plasteel door.
The door opened with a whoosh and Summit stepped into Miriam’s apartment. It was cozy and stuffed with oversize furniture. Summit heard wonderful twenty-third century jazz playing in the background, and started tapping his toe to the beat. Looking around, however, he didn’t see anyone.
“Miriam?” he called out.
“I’m here,” she said, rounding the corner as she put in her earrings. Summit’s breath was almost taken away. She was wearing a glittering champagne colored tulle gown that offset her nut-brown skin beautifully. A gold sash was tied at her waist, and she had put her hair up in a bun.
Miriam looked over her glasses at him. “What’s wrong, Summit? Is this a bad color?”
His face reddened. “N-not at all, Miriam. You look lovely.” Suddenly remembering the red rose he had brought, he handed it to her. “This is for you,” he said.
Miriam’s face brightened. “Why thank you!” She inhaled the rose’s scent deeply. “Such a rare and beautiful thing for me? You really shouldn’t have, but I shall try to be a worthy date for it!” Stopping to look in a small mirror by the door, Miriam fixed the rose into her hair. She gave him a small smirk as she turned around. “You know, you clean up quite nicely as well, and the new haircut is rather dashing, I must say,” she said, running a finger along his swept back white-blonde locks, causing Summit to blush again.
Miriam took his offered arm, and they started making their way down to the dragon dock, greeting other dragonators and their dates on the way. Summit stole glances down at Miriam as they strolled along the promenade. How had he never noticed how beautiful she was?
They were greeted at the entrance by the Guardian Dragons, who let them pass, and inside the hall by Z’neth, Apex, and Aaron, doing their official leadership greeting to everyone who entered.
Summit saw Miriam look around in delight. The entire dragon dock had been transformed into an elegant ballroom, complete with a fantastic holo-orchestra Summit had found in one of his Mother’s old files. Stars shone through the open roof, and Summit was surprised that Z’neth had somehow convinced Orak to install water fountains in what were normally the dragons’ water troughs.
Summit got them two glasses of champagne, and he and Miriam made the rounds chatting to different people. He spied Peak sitting forlornly in a corner, Zarkan and Amod already dancing, and Dram loading up at the buffet.
Setting down their finished glasses, Summit took Miriam’s arms as a waltz began. “May I have this dance?” he asked, before the swept onto the dance floor.
*****
Peak had already gone through two glasses of punch, and he was getting restless. Where the heck was Nora? Surely she hadn’t stood him up? Peak mentally groaned as he saw Summit and Miriam enter, both looking awesomely decked out. He hated to admit it, but Z’neth and Apex looked great too.
Okay, so maybe Apex had been right about the haircuts after all. Still, Peak wasn’t a fan of the dress uniform. The stupid collar was so high!
Peak made his way across the room back toward the buffet, where Dram was loading a plate. “Hey Big D, anything good?” he asked.
Dram looked Peak over, raising an eyebrow at him. “You look terrible, my brother. Perhaps it may be time to go easy on the punch?”
“You have no idea, Big D,” Peak agreed, before moving away. He wandered the periphery of the room for a bit, talking to a few other dragonators, but his mind wasn’t there. Peak was just about to leave the party when he spied a head of long red hair entering the room.
“Nora!” he called out as he saw her moving in the opposite direction. She spun around and gave him a smile; Peak felt like he was wearing the biggest doofus grin on his face, but somehow didn’t care. As they moved closer together from across the room, Peak saw that unlike most of the ladies, Nora was wearing a dress uniform, though she had a skirt instead of slacks. Somehow, Peak thought it suited her perfectly.
“Sorry I’m so late Peak,” Nora apologized. “I haven’t worn my dress uniform since being sworn into the Dragonator Corp, and I had forgotten where I put it!” she said with a laugh.
“Well, you look amazing in it – it’s a shame you haven’t come to this more often,” Peak said with a grin, escorting Nora to a small table before getting them both punch. They made small talk for a little while, greeting fellow dragonators (most of whom seemed surprised to see Nora there).
“You know, it’s not nearly as bad as I thought,” Nora confided in him as Apex and Z’neth walked away from their table after resting for a couple dance numbers, then promptly got cornered by a few of the Council members. She placed a hand on his, sending an electric tingle through Peak’s arms. “I think that’s probably due to the company.”
“You’re not nearly as standoffish as you claim, y’know,” Peak teased. “Why, I’ve even seen you crack a smile or two!”
“Better report my aberrant behavior to Skywatch,” she shot right back, before they both cracked up. Suddenly getting serious again, she asked, “How about a dance, Peak?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Peak replied as they moved out onto to dance floor. Where both of them promptly discovered that they were terrible at dancing. How in dragondom did Summit and Z’neth make it look so easy?
After stepping on each other’s toes for two numbers, they decided to take a break, and wandered out onto the dragon launch platform. The cool night air was refreshing, and Peak stood at the railing with Nora in companionable silence, looking down at the swirling Warp Winds illuminated by the glowing disk of the full moon.
Suddenly, Nora grabbed his shoulders and spun Peak around before pressing her lips to his in a kiss. Peak felt fireworks go off in his brain, and leaned in to the kiss.
Peaks’ face was burning when they pulled away, both suddenly embarrassed and staring at the floor. “Any particular reason for that?” he asked. “Not that I’m complaining!” he added quickly as Nora gave him a worried look.
“Consider it a thank you, I suppose,” Nora said. “For coming with me.”
Peak touched her face gently. “Suppose I would love another thank you?”
Nora gave him a wry smirk as she grabbed his hand. “I think that can be arranged.”
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no subject
Date: 2012-11-15 10:56 am (UTC)angst, good characterization..The one for Cifex made me sniffle just a bit (I honestly don't remember him so I was all "who?" while I read it but it was a good read regardless)
And Peak/Nora were cute in that last one
no subject
Date: 2012-11-15 03:43 pm (UTC)I feel like Peak/Nora practically write themselves, which I was not expecting. So much fun banter with the conflicting personalities. They have honestly been my biggest surprise enjoyment so far!
Thanks for reading! I plan to go back and read everyone's stuff (you, lovelykitta, crystalheart) in December. So much good fic to look forward to! :)
no subject
Date: 2012-11-15 04:18 pm (UTC)And :) I'm almost done with my first table, I'm so excited. I have three writer's choice prompts :)
and I swear, I've never dabbled in the fandom before, but your one fic "Evidence" is making my plunnies turn slightly rabidno subject
Date: 2012-11-15 08:18 pm (UTC)OMG, how many of the tables are you attempting? I'm thinking of rolling all my Writer's Choice prompts into one longish story to see if I can wrap up loose threads that appear during the prompts. Maybe an unofficial ending to the show?
Haha, what about that one particularly is making them gnaw you? I'm so curious now!
no subject
Date: 2012-11-15 08:52 pm (UTC)It was the whole Z'neth + mutein thing (well, the others there in your fic but the plunnie was eyeing him in particular - and the plunnie has rather sharp teeth) - I want to see what would have happened if they hadn't found him in time (OMG, an AU of your fic XD)
Watching the episodes will definitely be on the agenda - especially if I want to dabble
no subject
Date: 2012-11-15 11:14 pm (UTC)Well, let me recommend the episode "Son of Dread" for you then, as it's an episode where Z'neth is given mutein that makes him think he is Dread Wing's son (and named Dark Wing, which I laughed at, thinking of Darkwing Duck).
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Date: 2012-11-15 11:44 pm (UTC)And thanks for the tip :) I'll hunt that episode down and watch it (heh, reminds me of the fic I wrote where Phobos made Caleb think he was his son) And I'll see if I can come with a better name that's not a riff on "Darkwing Duck" - I think I have a few decent dragon names that could work (Attor - poison, Nidhogg - dreaded striker..)
no subject
Date: 2012-12-01 07:33 am (UTC)It'd be interesting to see another research vessel, though how often would they check in to Airlandis?
Blackboard is great but I have to wonder if Z'neth is really serious about Peak taking over that class...the horror...
The part with Cifex is extra awesome and sadly sweet. Will he ever meet Apex again?
Magic is just absolutely great and I laughed at the end.
no subject
Date: 2012-12-01 08:11 am (UTC)Peak would be the worst or best teacher ever depending on your perspective. XD
He will meet Apex again at some point (it's not written as of yet), but there are more adventures in store for him as well!
Magic was a lot of fun to write. I always wish the show had shown a little more of life in Airlandis outside of Skywatch/Dragonator/Council stuff.
no subject
Date: 2012-12-01 08:14 am (UTC)