[The Gunslingers, Book II, Chapter 1] [The Long Swim] Characters: Dustin Lance BlackJack, Colton Cyness, Weston Cane, Garth Cooper, Toran’Sar Jack tried to see out the view port of the cargo ship. “That’s the five-thousandth time you’ve tried to look outside, the windows are blacked out, they’ve been blacked out, and they won’t stop being blacked out,” Weston gave Jack a shove and both boys went spinning off in different directions. “I want to know where we are going,” said Jack. “Even if the windows weren’t blacked out you still wouldn’t be able see anything while we are at light speed,” added Colt. Colt and Toran were playing a game of Bone Dice with a special set of magnetic dice one of the cargo ship’s crew members had given them. Garth was occupying his time trying to break open the sealed supply crate they had found in the cargo bay with the words, Team Cyness, Phase II Supplies, printed on the side. Wes sailed past Garth and held a hand out; the large teenager snagged his teammate and swung him around to the crate. “You’re not going to get this crate open big guy,” Wes poked at the lock and kicked off for the other side of the cargo bay. “Coming through,” shouted Wes. Toran tried grabbing the dice out of the way and Wes flew between his Gunslinger and the First Deputy but Wes snagged the dice and continued past. “Hey, give those back,” shouted Toran. “I’m done playing anyway,” Colt pushed off and rolled in the weightless environment. “It’s getting boring.” “Everything is boring, we’ve been in here for two weeks,” Jack complained from his spot on the ceiling where he was trying to walk upside down. The Gunslinger Cadets had finished Phase 1 of their training two weeks prior, due primarily to the heroic feat of Jack when he had run and swam over twenty miles to save Camp 25 from the oncoming flood pouring through the broken dam. Now the boys were in route to Phase 2 training, but they had no idea where that was and there was little to do aboard the cargo transport that was taking them to the mysterious second training camp. “I’ll bet we are headed to Carina,” said Toran. “You just want to get back in the ocean, Fish Boy,” teased Wes. “Well yea, my gills are so dry after a year on that cursed desert planet that I’m spitting dust balls.” The lights dimmed in the cabin and the boys groaned, none of them were tired but the dimming lights indicated it was time for another sleep cycle. Colt and his team settled into the sleep harnesses strung across the bay that would hold them in place while they slept. Jack, being a Daraian was content to stay in the weightless environment forever; it gave him the illusion of being able to fly, as was the deepest dream of every avian of the flightless avian race from Darai. Colt and the others, however, were ready to put their feet back on solid ground. The boys chatted and joked from their sleep harnesses about the last year at the training camp and one by one drifted off to sleep. The ship shuttered and the boys were jarred awake several hours later as the ship dropped out of light speed and suddenly descended through an atmosphere, weight returned to the cabin and the boys rolled out of their harnesses and onto the cargo deck. “Are we there?” shouted Jack. “Hey, the crate is unlocked,” shouted Toran. “Drop Warning… Eight minutes to drop,” a disembodied voice from the ship speakers announced. “Drop? What do they mean drop?” shouted Wes. Garth pushed the lid of the now unlocked crate open and looked inside. The crate was full of supplies and gave some clue what was about to happen. “Guys, I think we need to get changed now!” shouted Garth. “Changed into what?” Colt rushed over to look into the crate. “What are these?” Garth lifted one of the suits out of the crate and inspected it. The suit was a dark brown pattern with something that looked a bit like gills along the sides. “Toran, are these wet suits?” asked Colt. Toran stumbled across the rolling deck of the cargo ship to look at the suits. Jack and Wes started pulling other gear out of the crate. “They might be, but they don’t look like any wet suit I’ve ever seen before,” said Toran. “I don’t think these were made on Carina.” Jack pulled a long folded metal glider wing from the supply crate and held it up. The wings were small and had a harness to attach them. “I thought only the Raven race had glider wings?” said Colt. Jack shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ve never really seen any up close, but these are small and have Sparrow colors, I don’t think these were made for Ravens.” The ramp cracked open and the roar of wind and rain assaulted the inside of the cargo bay, there was a storm outside and they could clearly see an ocean below them. “Drop Warning… Six minutes to drop…” the speakers announced. “Everyone get into the suits,” yelled Toran. “You too Jack, and then put the wings on.” “I don’t know how to use them,” Jack started unfolding the wings and then set them aside and started pulling one of the suits on. The ship lurched again and rolled sideways, the boys struggled to get into the suits. Toran got into his first, the suit was similar to the body suits on Carina but thicker, and then helped the others. “Drop Warning… Two minutes to drop…” the speakers continued their countdown. “I only see water,” shouted Wes. “I think we are going for a swim.” “Oh ancestors,” yelled Jack. “I’m an Avian, I can’t really swim.” “What? You swam down that river,” Colt shouted over the roar of the wind. “No, the river carried me; I almost drowned in that river.” “Drop Warning… One minute to drop…” the countdown was relentless. “What about our guns?” shouted Garth. “The crate will float,” replied Toran. “Throw everything inside and seal the lid, we’ll push it out in front of us and it will give us something to hold on to.” The cargo ship settled twenty feet off the ocean and started tipping backward; the boys had to hold on to the crate to keep from rolling out the back. “Drop… Drop… Drop…” the speakers ordered. “What about me?” shouted Jack fastening the glider wings harness to his chest. “Go now, fly, and stay out of the ocean,” ordered Colt. Jack’s eyes were wide with fear, this was not the best time for a crash course in how to use glider wings, but he wasn’t a coward and there was plenty of wind outside; he should be able to stay aloft indefinitely. Jack ran towards the back of the cargo bay and down the ramp, and then was gone. Colt watched and hoped he would be okay, but there wasn’t anything he could do right now. “Wes, cut the tie-down straps on the crate!” shouted Colt. Wes didn’t have to bother, the tie-downs released on their own and the crate started sliding towards the open ramp of the ship. Garth gave the large crate an extra shove and followed the supply crate out of the ship and down into the ocean. The other three boys jumped, or fell, Colt was never sure, and then he was in the ocean and trying to find the surface. Toran plunged into the sea and inhaled the water in through his gills and just as quickly expelled the water, coughing violently; the saline content of the water was all wrong. The water was dark and murky as he kicked for the surface. A blinding pain exploded behind Garth’s eyes; he had followed the supply crate and grazed the corner then slipped under the waves and began to sink. Toran saw a figure descending past him as he rushed for the surface, he needed oxygen now, but in this dark water he might not be able to find his drowning teammate again if he went to the surface first. Toran flipped in the water and kicked for the murky outline of the sinking body and wrapped his arm around it; the body was Garth and Toran could smell the blood in the water as he frantically swam for the surface. Jack hurled himself off the ramp and extended the wings and caught the air currents. The wings tugged and pulled in several directions from the mixed signals his body was sending the bio-mechanical wings. Within moments Jack found himself rising into the sky and above the worst of the storm clouds, though it was still raining softly up here. Wes was nearing panic, the water was cold and something felt wrong, water was pouring into his suit. He looked down and realized he hadn’t fastened the suit up all the way; the extra weight was pulling him down. Colt broke the surface and searched for his team, the crate was floating nearby and then Toran broke the surface next pulling Garth behind him. The current and waves fought against him as swam to his two Deputy Merits. “He’s bleeding,” yelled Toran. “We have to get him out of the water before the predators smell the blood.” “Let’s get him up on the raft,” shouted Colt. Getting the large boy up on top of the crate was much more difficult than it first seemed; the crate kept moving and Garth would slip back into the water. “Ancestors he’s heavy,” complained Toran. “You get up on top and pull while I push.” “Look!” Colt shouted at the sight of several dorsal fins appearing and circling around the boys in the water. Colt crawled up on top of the crate, the dorsal fins in the water giving him the motivation to move with almost super-human speed. Toran felt something brush against his leg and watched one of the dorsal fins appear. Wes looked up and could see the light from the surface getting further away and grabbed his hunting knife from its sheath on his leg and started cutting the waterlogged failing wet suit away. Then his descent stopped, he was on the rocky bottom of the ocean, the bottom must not have been too deep, but still he was sixty feet from the surface and his lungs burned. Wes cut and slashed at the suit holding him down and finally ripped it away and pushed off for the surface. Spots appeared in front of his eyes and his lungs felt as if they were about to explode. “Nooo!” Wes screamed in his head. “I won’t die, I won’t die….” Wes couldn’t hold his lungs any longer and inhaled the deadly ocean water. The extremely high salt content of this ocean destroyed the delicate tissue of his lungs and he lost consciousness twenty feet from the surface. Wes’s body sank back into the depths. Jack was getting the hang of the glider wings and banked around to find another air current to ride and stay aloft. The wings were awesome and fit perfectly, responding to shifts in his arms and the wing blades of his back. All Daraians had wing blades, though they had no wings. The blades were just a series of bones under the shoulders and connected to the ribs, they were all that was left of what were once wings. Jack figured his wingspan was perhaps ten feet across and matched perfectly for his size; the wings had obviously been custom made for someone of the Sparrow race of Daraians. Jack reached his hand out and stroked the feathers, they seemed to be made of a light alloy, and then he found a control panel hidden under one of the feathers near the base. “What’s this?” Jack ran his fingers across the control panel; there was only one small button. Jack considered pushing the button but decided maybe this wasn’t the best time to experiment. Jack dove under the clouds and scanned the ocean for his teammates. The crate was fairly easy to see and he dove for his team below. Colt carefully stood on top of the crate and scanned the ocean for Wes and shouted his name. Toran cradled the unconscious Garth and wiped the blood from his head with a neckerchief. “I’m not so sure I like your planet, Toran,” said Colt. “This isn’t Carina, the water is wrong, too much salt,” replied Toran. “I can’t breathe this water.” “Where are we?” asked Colt. “And why would they send us here?” “There are two other ocean worlds in the Empire,” said Toran. “Atlan and Pyra, but I don’t know which one this is, and I don’t know why they would send us here.” “Hey look, it’s Jack,” Colt waved at the avian boy. Jack dived and leveled off just above the waves and skimmed across the surface trailing his feet in the water. The crate was just ahead and he could see three of the team on top of the crate, Colt was frantically waving his arms. Jack saw the dorsal fins just in time and tipped his wings up and rose in the air just as the massive jaws of a shark took a bite at him and barely missed. He had almost forgotten this was the initiation portion of Phase 2 and probably dangerous, the memory of his first Gunslinger on that Long Walk over a year ago and immediately sobered. Jack flew over the crate; Colt was shouting and waving his arms. “Go look for Wes, we can’t find him.” Jack glided past the crate and found another air current and lifted into the sky again and began scanning the ocean for his friend. The surface of the ocean was turbulent but he had a good view for miles, Wes was nowhere to be seen. He searched for another hour and returned to the crate and carefully landed. “I didn’t see him,” said Jack softly, tears forming in his eyes. Colt nodded his face grim. They had lost a team member; Wes was probably with the ancestors now. “Did you see any land?” asked Colt. “I think I saw a rocky outcrop maybe twenty miles away,” said Jack. “It’s hard to judge distance here.” “Guys, it looks like Phase 2 is the ocean phase, and we’ve started out very badly,” said Colt. “Wes is dead, Garth is badly injured, and we’ve still got The Long Swim ahead of us.” Colt knelt on the crate and wondered how they were going to make it twenty miles with sharks surrounding them and an unconscious team member.