very edge of my mental box and throw my arms in the air.
It was pretty sloppy, but I'll take it.
I smile over at Ashur and I'm just about to walk towards him when a big guy, one of Kush's buddies from the other side of the room, steps in front of me. "What the hell was that?"
"Wan Woo long form for aerialists, why?" He's a big brown-winged guy who looks pretty much like Kush – square jaw, intense blue eyes, and stout build, except he's got his head shaved and some marks on his arms. Tattoos or something.
"Never heard of that pattern, or seen anything like that before."
I stare at him sideways, not because he's particularly interesting to look at, but because his words come out like a challenge. A growl of dominance.
"Well, you wouldn't, would you? I mean, unless you've been to Earth, right? I've been told there are no horses in space, so that pretty much rules out mounted acrobatic routines."
Ashur is between us before I can even finish. "That's enough, Junco, let's go fly."
I turn to follow him but the big guy grabs my arm and turns me back. "Hey, I'm still talk–"
I react, I can't help it. My knees are bending on the word "hey," and by the time he gets to "talk," I've smacked him in the jaw so hard with my heel he drops to the ground.
Ashur lets out a deep breath and motions me to follow him, but I kneel down to the guy instead. "I'll let you live because maybe you're just having a bad day, but there will be no next time. Don't ever fucking touch me again."
I stand and glance over at Isec, his smile is so wide I have to shoot him a wink. Then Ashur and I leave the training room and make our way down the stairs to the front of the building.
Outside we stop at the benches so I can puff a cigar. Ashur holds a hand up to his face to shield his eyes from the sunlight. Or whatever it is, since it's obviously not the sun. "Now you'll have to watch your back for that guy, Junco. I hope it was worth it."
I shrug. "He grabbed me, Ash. You can't let guys get away with that shit or they take it to the next level." I blow rings upward and lean back on the bench, my disfigured hand behind my head as a cushion.
"Yeah, I know. But he looked off. Keep an eye out for him."
"Yeah, OK. So we gonna fly or what?"
He smiles down at me, plucks the cigar from my hand, stomps on it, and pulls me up. "This will be a lot harder than in the free-G, you'll be sore tomorrow."
I smile. "I'm ready." And I am.
Flying is not all that fun when you're learning. For one thing, you fall an awful lot. And I'm not talking about some pansy-ass baby fall. Even in the grass that hurts. It takes me hours to get a few feet off the ground and my stomach muscles are burning with the strain of keeping my body parallel. I had no idea it took so many muscles to get into the correct flight position.
Eventually, after Ashur tugs me up into the wind, I find my stride with gliding. The wind is stronger up high so I have to compensate by twisting, using muscles I never knew I had. Well, probably didn't before a few days ago. We take advantage of the air stream and fly out above the train rail, following it into a town a few miles away. People stare at us as Ash lands and I crash and roll near a pub, but we're both wearing the Aves uniform, so they get disinterested quick enough.
We drink and eat, Ash watches some kind of sport on the screen, and I throw darts at a board that has the face of Jax Justice on it.
Internally I find that quite funny.
Some things are universal and hatred for this guy's high-drama action screens back on Earth is one of them, like politics and parties on the news. I hit him in the eye several times, and from the looks of the missing paper pieces in the orbital region, that seems to be a favorite spot for many of the locals as well.
On Earth I don't recall ever having so much freedom. Back home I was in a routine where I did what I was told to do, saw who I was told to see, and went where I was told to go. It wasn't exactly
It was pretty sloppy, but I'll take it.
I smile over at Ashur and I'm just about to walk towards him when a big guy, one of Kush's buddies from the other side of the room, steps in front of me. "What the hell was that?"
"Wan Woo long form for aerialists, why?" He's a big brown-winged guy who looks pretty much like Kush – square jaw, intense blue eyes, and stout build, except he's got his head shaved and some marks on his arms. Tattoos or something.
"Never heard of that pattern, or seen anything like that before."
I stare at him sideways, not because he's particularly interesting to look at, but because his words come out like a challenge. A growl of dominance.
"Well, you wouldn't, would you? I mean, unless you've been to Earth, right? I've been told there are no horses in space, so that pretty much rules out mounted acrobatic routines."
Ashur is between us before I can even finish. "That's enough, Junco, let's go fly."
I turn to follow him but the big guy grabs my arm and turns me back. "Hey, I'm still talk–"
I react, I can't help it. My knees are bending on the word "hey," and by the time he gets to "talk," I've smacked him in the jaw so hard with my heel he drops to the ground.
Ashur lets out a deep breath and motions me to follow him, but I kneel down to the guy instead. "I'll let you live because maybe you're just having a bad day, but there will be no next time. Don't ever fucking touch me again."
I stand and glance over at Isec, his smile is so wide I have to shoot him a wink. Then Ashur and I leave the training room and make our way down the stairs to the front of the building.
Outside we stop at the benches so I can puff a cigar. Ashur holds a hand up to his face to shield his eyes from the sunlight. Or whatever it is, since it's obviously not the sun. "Now you'll have to watch your back for that guy, Junco. I hope it was worth it."
I shrug. "He grabbed me, Ash. You can't let guys get away with that shit or they take it to the next level." I blow rings upward and lean back on the bench, my disfigured hand behind my head as a cushion.
"Yeah, I know. But he looked off. Keep an eye out for him."
"Yeah, OK. So we gonna fly or what?"
He smiles down at me, plucks the cigar from my hand, stomps on it, and pulls me up. "This will be a lot harder than in the free-G, you'll be sore tomorrow."
I smile. "I'm ready." And I am.
Flying is not all that fun when you're learning. For one thing, you fall an awful lot. And I'm not talking about some pansy-ass baby fall. Even in the grass that hurts. It takes me hours to get a few feet off the ground and my stomach muscles are burning with the strain of keeping my body parallel. I had no idea it took so many muscles to get into the correct flight position.
Eventually, after Ashur tugs me up into the wind, I find my stride with gliding. The wind is stronger up high so I have to compensate by twisting, using muscles I never knew I had. Well, probably didn't before a few days ago. We take advantage of the air stream and fly out above the train rail, following it into a town a few miles away. People stare at us as Ash lands and I crash and roll near a pub, but we're both wearing the Aves uniform, so they get disinterested quick enough.
We drink and eat, Ash watches some kind of sport on the screen, and I throw darts at a board that has the face of Jax Justice on it.
Internally I find that quite funny.
Some things are universal and hatred for this guy's high-drama action screens back on Earth is one of them, like politics and parties on the news. I hit him in the eye several times, and from the looks of the missing paper pieces in the orbital region, that seems to be a favorite spot for many of the locals as well.
On Earth I don't recall ever having so much freedom. Back home I was in a routine where I did what I was told to do, saw who I was told to see, and went where I was told to go. It wasn't exactly
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