Forge of War (Jack of Harts) (19 page)

BOOK: Forge of War (Jack of Harts)
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Betty uncoiled like a viper and aimed a finger at his nose.  “One word and I will strangle you in your sleep,” she said with a glare.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jack said quickly.

“Ha!” the German said with a laugh.  “You even-”

“Shut up!” Betty ordered.

“Ja fraulein!” he reacted without hesitation.

“Better,” Betty said in a huff.  “Now the truth is, we really
aren’t
just fighters.  We’re
Avengers
.  We’re
designed
to kill capital ships.  The only reason we’re not designated bombers is because the military wanted
fighter
pilots to perform the initial testing and God knows fighter pilots would be too proud to fly a mere
bomber
.”

Jack opened his mouth to protest and Betty glared at him.  He shut his mouth again.  She nodded her approval.

“Ich sehe,” the German said in what Jack thought might be a thoughtful tone.  It was certainly a less “strangling stray cats” growl than his normal tone.  “Ve had trouble keeping up vith your maneuwers.  Do you alvays manuewer like this?”

“Whenever she wants to impress someone,” Jack sneaked out under Betty’s glare.  He gave her an innocent smile and she rolled her eyes.

“You fly like fighter,” the German transmitted.  “I think name is goot.”

Betty smiled and gave Jack a “see, that’s how you talk to a girl” look.  Then she answered the German.  “Why, thank you, kind sir.

“I vould like a test flight.  Vould that be possible?” the German asked, his tone betraying a lot more yearning than he probably wanted to admit.  Either that, or he had a pain in his stomach.  Jack couldn’t tell for certain what with the accent.

Jack shrugged and looked at Betty.  This was all her decision after all.

Betty sighed and looked out on her ruined structure.  “Anything for a kind sir like you.  Just wait for the Peloran to fix me up first.  I’m not presentable right now.”

“Of course, fraulein.”

Betty pursed her lips and gave Jack a questioning look before continuing.  “You do realize by the way that the only way you would get to fly something like this is if you fly off a Peloran ship?  There is no way your ships could repair or otherwise support something like it.  They don’t have the infrastructure.  Hell, I couldn’t fly off an
American
ship the way my systems are wired right now!”

“Ja, fraulein.  I understand.”  There was that same tone.  Jack didn’t think the guy was in pain.  Or at least not the kind of pain you got from bad food.  Maybe the kind of pain you got when you realized you were riding a dinosaur when a Corvette shot by though.

Betty frowned at Jack, seeming deep in thought.  “And this is acceptable to you?”

There was a long pause this time, before the German answered.  “Ja, fraulein.  For the purposes of cooperation among allies of course, fraulein.”

Betty gave Jack a sly smile at that.

Jack rubbed his chin and suppressed a chuckle.  Cooperation among allies was
not
his primary concern here.  Not at all.

“Yes,” Betty said in a pleased tone.  “Cooperation of course.  Well then, prepare to have your mind blown.”  She chuckled.  “I’m told I’m very good at that.”

“From vhat I see today, I vould believe it, fraulein.”

Betty smiled at Jack.  “See? 
He
knows how to talk
nice
to a girl,” she mouthed towards him.

Jack rolled his eyes.  “Look, this is fun and all, but ve really….”  Jack cleared his throat as Betty laughed at him.  “
We
really need to get…somewhere,” he finished, at a loss for words.

The German laughed, a deep guttural laugh that would have made a row of beer steins, Honest to God
German
beer steins, clatter against each other on a shelf.  “No vorries for you,” he finally said.  “Ve are carrying you to battle site.  Your fleet can pick you up there.  You did not fail as the Flottillenadmiral expected.  Ve are pleased to fly vith you vhenewer ve get more chances.”

“Great.  Ve…”  Jack cleared his throat and glared at Betty as she laughed on the console.  “
We
didn’t fail.  So glad to know we had such a low bar to pass.”

“Vell, as I said, ve vill be happy to fly vith you again.  After you are all presentable of course.”

“Of course,” Betty said with a smile.  “Thank you for your consideration.”

“Always, fraulein,” he said in a very earnest tone.

“He is
such
a nice guy,” Betty mouthed and Jack brought a hand up to rub his forehead.  He had the feeling that
this
was going to be a long day.

Hello, my name is Jack.  I grew up in a world where cybers were real.  I never doubted their intelligence, but I did doubt their emotions.  Deep down, I guess I thought the cybers projected them so we would feel more at ease with them.  I thought they were just better AIs.  I was wrong.  They feel loss just like we do.  Let me tell you, loss is real hard to deal with when you were literally
born
to be with that person.

 

 

 

Loss

 

Hyperspace spread out as far as the eye could see, which wasn’t far as it turned out.  In the distance, rainbow-hued clouds cut off everything Jack could see.  Closer to the smashed Avenger he waited in, the clouds became rivers and waves of light, roiling across his vision in a never-ending game of tag.  Or maybe it was hide-and-seek.  He never could tell what it was gravity did in hyperspace.

A German fighter hovered just above them, its gravitic drive holding the chaos at bay from both fighters as it pulled them towards where the
Guardian Light
waited for them.  The kilometer-long white spire of a warship commanded his own bastion of order in the chaos, and Jack felt the Avenger shudder as she crossed into it.  The German fighter released his hold on the Avenger and they began to float towards the battleship until the multi-colored hue of hyperspace gave way to the bright white light of the
Guardian Light’s
hanger bay.  Jack squinted and kept his eyes on the German fighter still flying next to them.  Three smashed Cowboys already rested on the deck, as did their German rescuers, and Jack held on as Hal pulled them in on waves of gravity, landing them on the deck as soft as a baby’s bottom.

Betty smiled and the canopy opened.  She kept her yellow sundress on, as she always did on the battleship, and jumped out, growing to her full one hundred and fifty-centimeters on the way down.  Jack unhooked his restraints, stood up, and looked over the side of the cockpit to where the ladder should be.  That part of the hull was burnt off.

“Hal?” Jack asked with a wave towards the damaged area.

“Just jump,” Hal answered in a resigned tone.

Jack smiled, stepped out of the cockpit, and jumped off the fighter.  He landed on the grav wave prepared for him, turned, and rode it down to the deck.  “Thanks, man,” he said and turned to the German fighter that had brought them down just in time to see Betty jumping into the arms of the German pilot and his cyber.

“My heroes!” she announced, arms wrapped around their necks, legs hanging down to where her feet ended some thirty centimeters above the deck.

The Germans blushed, and Jack brought a hand up to rub his jaw, conveniently covering the amused smile on his face.  “I love you,” he whispered under his breath, shook his head, and assumed a jaunty gait towards them.  It was amazing just to be alive.

He spread his arms out wide and gave them his best charming smile.  “I’d offer my thanks too, but it appears to me you’re already occupied.”

“Ve understand!” the pilot shouted, his voice muffled by Betty’s shoulder.  “I settle for good beer.  No American sheisse!”

Jack laughed at that.  “Man, these Peloran have some of the best beer I’ve ever tasted!”

“Easy for American to say,” the German growled back.

“Oh no!” Betty shouted and dropped to the deck, spinning to look up at a fighter entering the hanger bay.

Jack followed her gaze and his mouth gapped at the sight of Cowboy Eight.  The Avenger hung limp in the gravity waves, the one wing he could see simply gone.  The nose was smashed back into the fuselage like a giant punched it.  Where the cockpit should be, it was all wreckage.

“Oh frak,” Jack whispered.

“Sheisse,” the German muttered.

Betty ran towards the fighter, along with the other Cowboy cybers, and surrounded Cowboy Eight’s cyber as she stumbled out of the fighter.

Jasmine.  Her name was Jasmine.  A low, unending, heartbreaking keen of grief came from her.

Jack watched the Cowboy pilots go back and forth between wanting to help, and turning away, not wanting to intrude on her pain.  Not wanting to hear her grieving.  The Germans, pilots and cybers alike, took several steps back, not wanting to be close to the display.  Nobody wanted to be close to the reminder that everybody died, sooner or later.

Her heartbreaking sobs echoed across the hangar bay and Jack almost left.  He didn’t want to see this either.  He didn’t want to hear, either her grief or her babbling.  He looked over to where Hal stood, watching with profound sorrow written on his face.  Jack sighed.  They had a clean word for what happened to cybers when their pilots died.  It should have happened already.  He didn’t know why it hadn’t, but it would if someone didn’t do something.  Maybe she just didn’t want to.  Jack shook his head, set his teeth, and walked over to the group of cybers.

He moved through their ranks, feeling the feathery touches of the holograms as they made way for the pilot in their midst.  He stopped next to where Betty held Jasmine in a hug and touched Jasmine on the shoulder.  She spun away from Betty, reaching for the one person there that felt like her pilot.  “Why!” Jasmine screamed with tears streaming down her face and began to hit him again and again.  Her holographic form couldn’t do much more than lightly tap him, but he felt the pain behind those punches like a knife.

Jack wrapped her up and pulled her in tight.  She gave up on her phantom assault and wrapped her arms around him in a desperate hug, burying her face in his shoulder.  Jack met Betty’s gaze and she gave him a proud smile before wrapping her arms around Jasmine again.  Jack stood there, surrounded by the feather touches of cybers, and wondered at just how odd this was.

There was a stereotype of Minnesotans being friendly but reserved.  Most people said it was the Scandinavian influence.  Usually people just nodded or waved at each other.  If you were friends, you might shake hands.  If you were really good friends, a back slapping hug might be in order for guys, or a soft but quick shoulder hug for girls.  You didn’t touch people for long, if at all, in public.

There were some exceptions of course.  Teenagers and young adults were expected to be a little more wild.  Some close dancing, girls sitting on their man’s laps, and other similar actions, but those were primarily limited to the parties they went to, and if it happened at the malls or other gathering holes they frequented, the adults generally turned a blind eye.  In proper culture though, even the “kids” were expected to act with more decorum.  At most you might see them walking hand in hand at the Church Potluck for instance.

And then there were the emotional outbursts.  A proper Minnesotan emotional outburst was a grunt or nod of approval.  If it was really good, you might even get some applause.  But if the Pastor wanted an Amen from the congregation, he had to ask for it because otherwise they were respectful enough not to interrupt him.  Emotions beyond being happy and welcoming, which one should be with everybody, were only indulged in the privacy of the home.  Nobody wanted to see you blubbering like a fool over your poor deceased dog.

In International Falls, where outsiders came for water sports and beach parties three months of the year, ice fishing, hockey, and other ice-themed sports six months of the year, and the locals spent the rest of the time preparing for the next season, the rules were more relaxed.  And Jack had spent most of his life getting around even those that remained.  Despite that, it still felt decidedly out of his comfort zone to be standing in a public hangar bay, where everybody on the ship could see him, holding a girl blubbering all over his uniform.  That the girl in question was a feather-light cyber, her hologram barely registering enough for him to hold her if he didn’t squeeze too hard, was just one more added oddity.  And then there were the cybers surrounding them, their feather-light touches all over him.  And for added weirdness, even though she was obviously sobbing, his uniform was utterly dry.

All in all, it easily made Jack’s “Top Ten Weird Crap That has Happened to Me” list by an easy margin.

“What am I going to do?” Jasmine blubbered into his shoulder, still holding onto the only flesh and blood human that would come to her.  Massive sobs wracked her frame.

Jack met Betty’s eyes.  She looked down, not looking hopeful at all.  Jack pursed his lips.  Cybers rarely survived their pilots by much, but Jasmine was still here.  That meant…something.  He just wish he knew what that was.

Jack patted her shoulder soft enough that he wouldn’t push through her projection.  He shook his head and looked at Betty.  She nodded at him.  He sighed, and asked the only thing that came to mind.  “I’m sorry.”

Jasmine sniffed and pushed her head against his shoulder.  “It…it
hurts
.  What do I
do
?”

Jack sighed and shook his head as things came into place.  “A lot of us
don’t
do,” he whispered.  “I know when the Shang hit Yosemite Yards I had it real bad for a while.  Family gone, and a lot of girls I should have
made
family.  I dreamed about them every night.” Jack shrugged.  “And every day I asked myself how I could live without ’em.”

Jasmine sniffed and raised her head to look him in the eye.  “How
did
you?”

Jack cleared his throat, removing a suspicious frog from his throat.  “Well, after a few days I decided I was going to kill everyone responsible for killing ’em.  And if I couldn’t find ’em, I’d just settle for killin’ every damn Shang in the universe.  That kept me going for a while.”  He looked at Betty and smiled.  She smiled back.  “Then I found Betty and….”  Her smile softened.

Jasmine sniffed and buried her face back into his shoulder.  “That’s what Drew said,” she whispered.  “But what about
me
?”  Her voice broke on the last word and she shuddered in his arms.

Jack pursed his lips and let out a long breath before answering.  “I can’t tell you.  We all have to find our own reasons to live, if that is what we want to do.  We all have to decide who or what we want to live for.  And if we don’t…well then we might as well not live at all.”

Jasmine pulled her head back and glared at him.  “And how is that
fortune cookie
supposed to help
me
?” she growled.

Jack gave her a weak smile and shrugged.  “I still dream about ’em, you know.  Every night, I see ’em.  Every mornin’ I wake up missin’ ’em.  Difference is, now I have somethin’ to do.”

Jasmine sniffed.  “What’s that?”

Jack let out a long breath.  “If I do it right, maybe I can keep someone else from feeling the same pain I did.”

Jasmine sniffed again.  “So what about when this is all done?”

Jack smiled and shared a gaze with Betty.  “Well, then we’re gonna go see what’s out there.”

Jasmine frowned.  “Where are you going to go?”

Jack shrugged.  “I think we’re just gonna start with the places I never been and go from there.”

Jasmine laughed.  It wasn’t much of a laugh, and on reflection it was actually more sob than laugh, but it was a start.  She buried her head back in his shoulder and continued to sob.  It was slower than before though and Jack let out a long breath in relief.  He felt the other cybers pull away to give them room.  They’d gotten through the worst of it.  Maybe, just maybe, Jasmine would live.

“OK, let’s get out of here,” Jack said, made a gentle turn towards the exit, brought one arm over Jasmine’s shoulder, and nodded for Betty to lead them out of the hangar bay.  A minute later, they walked into their quarters and Jack guided Jasmine to his bed where she promptly collapsed.  He sat down in his chair and sighed.  “I don’t want to see anything like this again,” he said to Betty.

Betty sat down in the other chair in the room, crossed her legs, and shook her head.  “None of use
do
.  But it happens anyways.”

Jack shook his head, his idea from earlier coming back with a vengeance.  He compared it to what he knew of their laws, and thought it would work.  “I don’t think it has to,” he whispered.  “I think we can stop it.”

Betty frowned.  “How?”

Jack shook his head again.  “First I need to know something.  How many instances are you running right now?  On the fighter?  On the
Guardian Light
?  Are you flirting with Hal right now?”

Betty glanced down at Jasmine and then glared back at him.  “Now would
not
be the appropriate time for that,” she said through gritted teeth.

Jack sighed.  “OK.  Fine. 
Normally
, how many instances do you have running?”

Betty shook her head but answered him.  “A lot.  Yes, I’m normally flirting with Hal.  Plus I’ve got characters running in MMOs.  Plus the fighter.  Plus I’m with you all the time.  They’re all different instances, if you are speaking very simplistic.”

“Right.  So when we get back to the ship, you bring all your separate selves back together,
remember
all of your experiences both out there and here on the ship, and then you’ll send off more instances that remember everything.  Do I have that right?”

Betty pursed her lips at him.  “Simplistic but…yes.”

“Great,” Jack said with a smile.  “So running more instances of yourself would not be a problem, would it?”

Betty glared at him, suspicion written on her face.  “That depends on the problem you are trying to get around,” she said slowly.

“You could run…say…a
dozen
more fully functioning instances for short periods of time without any problem reintegrating, right?”

Betty let out a long breath.  “What are you getting at, Jack?  And why do I have the feeling you are taking me somewhere I don’t want to go?”

BOOK: Forge of War (Jack of Harts)
4.03Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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