See Part 0 for the Disclaimer and related information
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Year 3224
Destiny
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The small boy jitters around excitedly. *Today’s the day!* “The fair, the festival, the time to be Read! Maybe I’ve got a Gift... That’d be really, really neat -- no one’s had a Gift in our family in generations...”
Laughing in amusement at his son’s antics, Ishida catches a hold of the boy firmly. “Calm down, Lancer. Nothing’s happening yet. And, you know, the likelihood is that you’re going to be told that you have no Gift.”
“Yeah, yeah... But the fair and the festival is more than enough! Can we go to the...”
Shaking their heads in amusement, his parents share an indulgent, joyful glance before they continue their light-hearted attempts to calm their only child down.
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Shimada frowns; brooding as he regards his youngest son. *I don’t understand the boy. How can he be so very different? Even his sisters prefer to be out _doing_ things rather than staying inside reading dusty, moldy books....*
Clearing his throat, Shimada immediately pulls Keith’s attention from the book in his lap. *He’s so small and weak... I can’t believe he’s my son...* Face tightening at that unpalatable thought, he grates out, “Tomorrow the priest will come to formally read you. That afternoon, you will be sent to the Temple for your.. training.” Glaring in distaste at the meek picture before him, he snorts and leaves. *The boy can’t even look me in the eye...*
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“What kind of sixth sense is that?!?”
Sighing gently, hearing the implied, outraged, ‘I went through all of that testing to find out _this_!,’ the elderly priestess resigns herself to another stubborn kit. “It’s a _good_ one. For one, it’ll warn of any danger--”
“So long as the source is male! Don’t you -- of all people -- stand there and _dare_ to tell me females aren’t dangerous! Isn’t there _some_ way I could expand my Gift so it’ll work on females?”
Lips tightening at the impertinent tone, the priestess manages to bite back the retort that rises to her lips. “No. Your Gift is what it is. Everyone and everything in nature has both strengths and weaknesses. So, too, your Gift. The only way to overcome the weakness is to compensate by being able to understand females quite well. Or to find the other half your soul.”
“What do you mean? Not about the understanding females -- I know enough to realize just how likely _that_ is, but what about the other possibility?”
Relaxing, a part of her mentally rolling her eyes at the kitling’s desire for an easy answer, the priestess manages to keep control of her facial features. “Finding your soulmate, your match in every part that makes you unique, is much less likely than you being able to master all the nuances of females.”
A sharp nod in resignation is her reply. “I guess it means I better start learning how females think.” With that, the small form bows with surprising respect. “I thank you for your time and patience.”
Bemused, the old priestess absently stretches as she watches the back of one of the more intriguing younglings to come before her. “Not too badly done, kitling. I can See you will grow up to be quite a formidable man...”
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The small boy stares in consternation at the very young, sweaty priest before him. “What?”
Unable to hold back, one of his brothers roars in laughter. “You? You who can barely stand to kill a bug has the Warrior’s Gift?” Doubling over, he manages to continue. “It figures you’d get stuck with half a Danger-sense -- and not even the useful half!”
The priest wilts before the boy’s father’s dark stare.
Keith, his mouth firming, forces his face to harden. Turning his back on the priest, he faces down his relatives. “If I have a Warrior’s Gift, I won’t waste it. And half a Danger-sense is better than none.” Black eyes sharpening, jaw thrusting out in sheer stubbornness, he pointedly turns away from his larger brother, who is still laughing. Meeting his father’s surprised eyes and the wide eyes of the priest, the small boy takes an aggressive, proud stance. But his voice is still quiet, for all the stone that shows beneath it. “I will _not_ waste my Gifts.” With calm dignity, the small boy bows his leave, and walks out of the hall.
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Year 3225
A Favor
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General Morisaki grits his teeth. “Sven -- you are disrupting my entire command.”
Sven regards his SO dispassionately. “Well then. You better give me to someone else.”
Morisaki glares at Sven.
Sven just looks back at him, absolutely calm.
Sighing sharply, Morisaki leans back and waves Sven out. *Fine.*
Sven bows, eloquently unimpressed, and leaves.
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“Hawkins!”
Wincing, Hawkins greets the other general. “Morisaki. What do you want?”
“I got a misfit. And I can’t handle him. Will you take him?”
“Do I look like that much of sucker?”
“Hawkins, be a pal. He’s got Sight.” *Like you.* “You’ll probably do well with him.” *At least, you’ll do better than I am.*
Taking in Morisaki’s desperate look, Hawkins gives in. “Fine. Send him the orders; I’ll see him tomorrow.” *Just because we both have Sight doesn’t mean we’ll get along.* “I reserve the right to send him back to you if he doesn’t work out.”
“Of course.” Morisaki brightens, and claps Hawkins gratefully on the shoulder before hurrying off.
Hawkins regards Morisaki’s back sourly. *He just wants to get away before I change my mind. At least this way, I’ll have _my_ misfit pilot of my command...*
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Year 3225
Lines Drawn
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Sven’s eyes widen slightly as he takes in his new SO. *Interesting... He has Sight too...*
Lifting an eyebrow, Hawkins regards Sven dispassionately. “Why aren’t you in the Temple?”
Sven Looks at Hawkins, and his stance eases just a bit. *He Sees patterns. He’ll know where I fit the best... No wonder he made General so easily...* “The Drules destroyed my family. I want to destroy them. You’re going to help me.” A bit too late, Sven realizes it would have been more diplomatic to phrase the last as a question.
Hawkins smiles sardonically. “Well, if you say so, I suppose I will.” Eyes sharpening, he pins Sven with a look. “You can See me, so you know what I say is true. If I see that you’ll be too much trouble, you’re going to end up right back under Morisaki.”
Bowing, respect obvious, Sven acknowledges this truth. *He’s worth obeying.*
Regarding his newest pilot, Hawkins smothers an internal cringe. *Why do I have the feeling that I’m going to regret this?*
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Year 3225
Fate
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Allura sighs internally, as she realizes that she’s paired with Jays for the simulation. *If he manages to stay alive for 2 minutes after engaging the enemy, I’ll be surprised.*
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Romelle tightens her face in disgust. *This idiot I’m flying wing for is going to die quick, for all his bragging ways.* Briefly focusing on her Gift, her eyes narrow. *Ah. If I pay attention, then there’ll be someone proper to fight with...*
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*Damnit! I was too optimistic... Stupid program targets you if you don’t have a partner...* Allura snarls; even though she knows it’s simulated, she allows herself to sink into the feel of battle. *I’m going to take out as many as I can...*
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*Hells! He was even more stupid than I thought... Got to maneuver... There!* Romelle smiles as her Gift suddenly opens up with possibilities.
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*What? Someone’s flying wing for me...* Allura, without thinking, twists her fighter in the movement that ‘killed’ the last five pilots that willing flew with her. *Shit!* Then, her eyes widen in pure predatory delight. *He _followed_ me!*
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*Yes! This is one pilot who knows what she’s doing!* Romelle’s eyes blaze. *Now, I can finally cut loose...* “I’m 18”
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Allura blinks in surprise, even as she destroys an enemy fighter. *Female? Interesting...* “Yes. I’m 12. ‘Ware behind.”
Introductions over, all the two have time for is battle-speech.
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“Kami-sama.” The class instructor stares at the screen displaying the battle. Allura and Romelle, now partnered together, are tearing huge holes in the Drule formations.
One by one, the other members of the class watch as well. As they ‘die’, their simulators shut off, freeing them to watch the battle as a whole as well.
Eventually, only two fighters are left.
Murmurs of shock spread through the room; the two are very close to making it to the next level of difficulty.
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Romelle, losing herself in the simulated world, snaps out a warning. “Critical.”
Allura snaps back. “Acknowledged. Leave.”
Shaking her head, Romelle mutters, “Don’t _think_ so, 12.”
Startled, Allura notes that 18 is still with her, even though they’ve passed the point at which they can disengage and still have enough fuel to get back to base. Shrugging, she focuses back on the fight.
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The course instructor shakes his head. *No way can they make it. They don’t have enough ammo left...*
Abruptly 12 breaks the rhythm of their exchange. “Mission Priority is highest.”
18 acknowledges, and the two split, ending up almost at either corner of the Drule formation.
*What the hell are they--?* The course instructor doesn’t have enough time to finish his thought before the two self destruct -- the chain reaction just managing to take the last of the Drule fighters with them. *Shit. They did get to the next level.*
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Extracting themselves from the simulator, Allura and Romelle stand up, taking in the awed silence.
Glaring aggressively, Allura pinpoints the instructor. “I want _her_ for my wingman.”
Romelle nods in feverent agreement, an equally stubborn look on her face. “And we’re going to room together.”
Allura blinks, shoots her a sideways look, but shrugs agreement.
The instructor throws up his hands in a placating gesture. “No one’s arguing with you.”
Allura’s roommate bows eloquently. “I’ll just go and move my stuff.”
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Year 3227
Loss
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Freezing for a moment, Jared “Hunk” Forrester sinks to knees in front of the disemboweled fighter. *Matt!?* Jaw clenching shut, he curls in a fetal position, ignoring the worried inquiries from the machines around him.
*Jared -- live.* The last sending from Matt is filled with love and edged with terrible pain. Their link unravels, leaving emptiness behind.
Too hurt to even cry, Jared shuts down. He wants to die, but his twin’s last thought was for him to live. *I have to live. But I can’t live with the emptiness...* Shaking, attention turned inward, he fails to see the machines start wailing alarms as they react to his distress. He concentrates on shoving all the pain, all the despair away, buried deep inside locked behind a name. *I am Hunk. I will make them pay for hurting Matt and Jared...*
He doesn’t hear the running footsteps, or feel the hands carefully moving him.
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Waking up in the medbay, he manages to reassure the medtech. Calmly he convinces the doctors to let him go.
He can feel the worry of the machines around him, but they know better than to push him.
Back at his workstation, he thoughtfully eyes the pilots readying themselves for battle.
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Monitoring the battle, Hunk calculates when the chaos is at a maximum -- and launches in the old, beat up fighter he was restoring.
His eyes widen in surprise as he shares the fighter’s joy in flying once more.
Losing himself in communion with his fighter, they surge gleefully into the enemy formations.
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General Hayashi stands before the Council. “Look at what he did! He’s had _no_ training, and yet he managed to be exactly where he could do the most good.”
“Hayashi -- he’s a Gifted mechanic. I don’t see how the risk of losing him could be balanced out by his skill in battle. He can’t be that good.”
“He’s not. But, he did this once, and he’s likely to do it again. There’s a reason why Gifted mechanics don’t actually fly the machines they repair. Do you want him to do it with or without training?” Almost holding his breath, Hayashi looks challengingly at the Council. *Come on, come on... It’s not often a Gifted goes through the Academy instead of the Temple...*
Faces blanking, the council members trade looks. “Very well. He goes to the Academy. But once he gets out, he’s _your_ responsibility.”
Hayashi bows. *That’s what I’m counting on. He’s going to be the boost I need...*
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Year 3227
What comes around
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Hawkins stare at the profiles of the new fighter pilots under his command. Then he turns around and viciously punches buttons on his com to demand an audience with the High Council.
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“What is this? I already _have_ one misfit fighter pilot!”
The council members just look at him distantly. “You are the reason why Allura got into the Academy. Therefore, you get to take responsibility for her. Because she and Romelle are such a good team together, they should not be split up. So you get both of them.”
“But --”
“Sven is your own problem -- you agreed to his transfer to your command.”
“Morisaki couldn’t handle him...”
“True. And now Morisaki owes you a large favor. But just because you volunteered to handle Sven doesn’t mean that you won’t take responsibility for Allura and Romelle. If you want, you can ask Morisaki to take them.” *Of course, then you’d owe him...*
Hawkins looks at the Council narrowly.
They refuse to bend.
Sighing in resignation, Hawkins salutes. “I understand.”
“Good. Dismissed.”
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Stalking away from the council chamber, Hawkins shakes his head in disgust. *What have I gotten myself into?* Abruptly stopping, his eyes widen as he’s struck by a thought. *I wonder... What’ll happen if I put them together...?* Realizing he’s in the middle of the hallway, he flushes, and hurries to his personal quarters. *I’ll take a better look at their profiles. This just might work out better than I thought...*
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Year 3227
A Beginning
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Romelle laughs, the pure sound of her glee sounding completely out of place in the gloomy conference room. “What are the odds? _Two_ Truthseers in one room -- and it’s not in some religious, cloistered room, but on a military base...”
Sven stiffens. “I am no Truthseer.”
Romelle snorts, amusement still lingering in her eyes and her voice. “Whatever you wish to call yourself is perfectly fine.” *Truthseer.*
Sven, lips clamped tight, Looks at her. And reels back. “No!”
Romelle’s smile widens, dangerously sweet. “But of course. We’re meant to be, you and I. We’ll be a force to be reckoned with...”
“I don’t _need_ you!”
“Well, of course not.” *Silly clunk.* “Necessity has precious little to do with desire. At least in this case. And ‘need’ has nothing to do with how well we _will_ work together...” *You can deny it all you like, love...*
Sven snarls. “Stop that!”
Romelle laughs again. “Idiot boy. You would have been a _much_ nicer person if you had learned to control how deep you See.”
Sven growls, finally regaining a measure of his detachment. “_You’re_ a fine one to talk.”
Romelle’s eyes glitter darkly. “Why do you think we’re going to be such a good partnership?”
Hawkins shakes his head, and quietly eases out of the room, amused. *I’ve never seen Sven lose control this badly before... I think I’ll just leave them to sort themselves out.*
Allura slouches comfortably in a chair, enjoying the show. *It’s about time someone else had to deal with her annoying confidence.* Grinning wickedly, she carefully props her feet up, not wanting to call attention to herself. *And they do deserve each other...*
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