*****Audio File***** "Chapter 33 - Ballet - Audio File" Special Notes: I been meaning to mention Zam and why I made him a brat. Because, it makes sense. Zam lives with the Kitsune, they are arrogant and bratty people. Zan lives with the gentle Tarlocks, he's the good boy. So, only makes sense. Plus, one of the problems I've always had with Zam is he had no where to go, and didn't make sense in this story. Now he does. [The White Raven, Chapter 33, Ballet] [Mulae Farael Battle Carrier, Deep Space, Planet R783] “Normal space in three… two… one…” “Confirmed, we are in normal space.” “Clock is counting… minus thirty seconds to planet pass.” “Release deployment force.” “Deployment force is away.” “Imbalance in engine four.” “Compensate.” “The Carrier is breaking apart, we’ve lost decks 7 through 52.” “Sound evacuation.” “Too late, we’re all dead.” “Dammit people, that’s the third time,” shouts the Cadet Commander. “Okay, everyone rotate.” Pesa was up next and took her place at the simulator Helm. They were supposed to be mimicking the actions of the real Bridge three decks up, but the cadets had failed to match the Bridge’s actions. The Carrier had come out of TDS thirty minutes ago and the Platoon landing on the ice planet was already on the surface conducting the search for the pirate fleet. The Carrier wouldn’t be stopping at the planet, that would take weeks to bleed off enough speed, but the smaller landing craft could. The Carrier came out of TDS and raced past the planet, giving the landing craft a thirty second window before the Carrier would be out of range. “Let’s get it right this time,” says the next Cadet Commander taking the Captain’s chair. “The real Carrier is already beginning it’s orbit around the sun.” “Bridge is reset,” says the Cadet Com-Officer. “Normal space in three… two… one…” replies Pesa. “Confirmed, we are in normal space,” says the Cadet Executive Officer. “Clock is counting… minus thirty seconds to planet pass,” replies the Cadet Com-Officer “Release deployment force,” orders the Cadet Captain. “Deployment force is away,” replies the Cadet Security Officer. “Helm?” asks the Cadet XO. Pesa was furiously calculating the necessary equations in her head, the problem was that a computer couldn’t account for the Daraian factor. The Cadets before her had been trying to rely on the computer to make all the adjustments. The Carrier was much more difficult than her families Cargo ship, but father had always done all the calculations in his head and never let the computer fly the ship - Pesa was beginning to understand what it took to fly the big ships. “Engines are normal, all systems green,” reports Pesa. “About time, good job, Pesa,” says the Cadet Captain. “Lets get an analysis of that maneuver and reset to real time.” “The A.I. says it was a perfect glide path with the engines .0134 from an optimal maneuver,” replies the Cadet Com-Officer. “Resetting to real time.” The console in front of Pesa blurs and changes to match the real Carrier position. “Hey, look at this, the log says the real Helm Officer was .1873 from an optimal maneuver,” says the Cadet Com-Officer. “Pesa did better than him.” “If the Helm Officer would have been off by another .0288 we would have had to abort the maneuver and drop back into TDS,” notes the Cadet Captain. Pesa already knew where the Helm Officer’s mistake had been, he hadn’t taken into account the heavier gravitational pull from this system’s aging sun. Pesa wondered if the Helm Officer was getting too old for the stressful position on the Helm. If his performance continued to fall the Captain would move him to Engineering where all the burned out Helm Officers went. Pesa checks the real time position of the Carrier. “We’re in our arc around the sun, twelve hours until we pass the planet again and pick up the Landing Craft.” “Well done, we’ve got the simulation caught up with the real Carrier,” says the Cadet XO. “Let’s keep it there, rotate positions, everyone is supposed to get a chance at every station.” Pesa starts to get up but a red warning light on the console catches her attention. “Sun flare,” shouts Pesa. “A big one.” “The Landing Craft is declaring an emergency,” reports the Cadet Com-Officer. “Is this a simulation or real?” asks the Cadet Captain. “I don’t know, data from the real Bridge has stopped,” replies the Cadet Com-Officer. “Oh, okay, it’s a simulation, they probably just want to test us since we have a few free hours,” says the Cadet XO. “I’ve got a message from the real Captain,” says the Cadet Captain. “He wants Pesa to stay on the sim-Helm… we’re to change course and pick up the Landing Craft before the sun flare hits.” Pesa sits back down at the Helm and reviews the incoming data for the simulation. “That’s an almost impossible maneuver, we would have to pull our arc in so tight we will pass close enough to the sun to reach outside and touch it.” “We’ll pass within 50,000 miles of the Corona,” says the Cadet XO. “The Gun-turrets will burn up, we’ll lose the entire outer hull most likely.” “No, I’ve got this,” shouts Pesa. “I’ll spin us on our horizontal axis to keep us rotating away from the heat, but go ahead and evacuate the outer hull to be safe.” The Cadet XO orders the evacuation while Pesa plots the course change, it’s going to be a tight turn to get the ship facing back to the planet. “Engineering, be ready to reverse the grav-plates as soon as the evacuation is complete,” orders Pesa. All the extra Cadets run to the emergency crash seats around the walls of the sim-Bridge knowing the g-forces of the turn is going to hurt. The evacuation of the outer hull takes twelve minutes. Pesa’s fingers fly over the console making hundreds of corrections to the five massive engines. The ship responds and Pesa has to struggle against the g-forces to keep her hands on the console. “Reverse… grav… plates… negative… sixteen… Darai… standard…” Pesa struggles to shout the order. The Cadet XO doesn’t respond and Pesa turns her head towards him, he’s unconscious along with most of the other Cadets. Pesa was hatched in space and had endured the g-forces of breaking maneuvers many times on her families Cargo Ship, she was better acclimated to handle this. The grav-plates activated and the g-forces lightened slightly, someone had carried out Pesa’s order, but every Cadet capable of executing the order was unconscious at their station. Pesa checked her console, it wasn’t the A.I., the order had been executed from the real Bridge. “Why would the Bridge get involved in a simulation?” Pesa didn’t have time to think about it, turning a ship in a slow arc wasn’t really complicated, but turning a ship rapidly while traveling at forty-thousand miles per second, and with the mass of 4.8 billion tons multiplied by the gravitational weight of the forces being exerted becomes nearly impossible. The gravitational pull of the sun will be necessary to change the course of the ship. Pesa begins the calculations necessary to complete the maneuver she has already begun. The simple way to visualize the turn would be to think of a ground vehicle with a rope tied to it and a person riding on a sled at the end of the rope. The rope symbolizes the gravitational pull of the larger object, and the sled the Carrier. If the larger object were to stop and spin in a tight circle the smaller object would continue in an arc around the larger object. But, now consider the larger object winding the robe in at the same time the smaller object is already in the arc. The gravitational force against the smaller object would increase exponentially, and also increase the speed of the smaller object. The Carrier would be traveling four times it’s original speed if left unchecked. So now imagine the rope being unwound at the far end of the arc, but in a controlled pull that would slow the smaller object back to it’s original speed. Pesa was young, her mind nimble and capable of accepting and solving the equations needed as rapidly as the Carriers sensors could bring them to her. The Carrier was now at the far end of the arc and traveling at 120,000 miles per second. The g-forces were brutal and Pesa could no longer lift her arms. She switched to verbal commands and called out the equations to the A.I. computer. Pesa hadn’t thought the simulator could reproduce the effects of such a turning maneuver, but it was remarkably realistic. The g-forces lessoned as the Carrier finished it’s arc and swung back towards the sun. Now she would need to spin the ship to keep any one side from facing the sun for too long and burning away. “Damage control reports a bulk head gave way in the secondary hull,” shouts the Cadet Com-Officer. Pesa glanced around the Sim-Bridge, the Cadets were starting to wake up. “Send Damage Control Teams,” orders the Cadet XO. “Sheesh, this is the most realistic simulation I’ve ever done.” “Stay focused, people,” orders the Cadet Captain. “Remember, we’re being graded.” “We’re spinning on our horizontal axis,” shouts Pesa. “Close the blast doors and deploy heat shields,” orders the Cadet XO. “Confirmed, doors sealed and heat shields are deployed,” shouts the Cadet Security Officer. The Cadets couldn’t see the heat shields deploying, but someone outside the ship would have said it looked like the ship was deploying golden para-sails around the ship. “It’s a good thing the Captain had the temperature set so low,” says the Cadet Com-Officer. “It would be unbearable in here if we hadn’t been at sub-zero temperatures.” “We’re past the sun and ahead of the solar flare,” says Pesa. “Fourteen minutes to recover the Landing Craft,” reports the Cadet Com-Officer. “Okay, reset the Sim-Bridge,” orders the Cadet Captain. “Lets see what the real Carrier is doing.” Pesa watches her console for the reset from the simulation, but nothing happens. The data streaming across her console remains the same. “Com-Officer, did you reset?” asks the Cadet XO. “I did… I… Holy space nuggets,” says the Cadet Com-Officer. “That wasn’t a simulation, they actually passed Helm control to Pesa for the maneuver.” The Cadet Captain stares in shock at the message coming across his vid-screen. “Pesa, I’ve got a message from the Carrier Captain. Holy Ancestors… listen to this. ‘Cadet Lieutenant Pesa is commissioned to Lieutenant Pesa, Helm Officer 3rd Class, assigned to fourth shift.” “Oh ancestors,” says the Cadet XO. “Pesa, that was your Helm test, you’re the night Helm Officer now.” Pesa wiped the tears from her eyes, she was very likely the youngest Helm Officer ever Commissioned, but more important - she was a pilot just like Papa now. “Could somebody turn the grav-plates back on now,” complains the Cadet XO, floating above the deck. ***** [House Eagle, Outside the new Swan Theater, Planet Darai] The hatchlings were apparently being marched to their impending doom, or so one would think from the expressions on most of their faces. “You’d think we were asking them to leap from the cliffs without their wings,” says Vas. “They would probably welcome that escape if we offered it,” replies Raen. “Want to wager a night-watch shift on it?” “Not a chance, they might just take the offer, and I might join them,” says Vas. “The new wings look good on them,” says Moeth. “They look like eagles now.” The hatchling eagles were wearing the first batch of the new eagle wings Mergan had designed. Clap and the Demonians had been hiding the wings at the forgery until they had enough for every hatchling, and brought them up early this morning. Peli walks up and joins the group, her expression a bit tense. “What’s wrong?” asks Vas. “We have a new group of orphans arriving tomorrow,” says Peli. “I’ve been at the airport making arrangements to receive them.” “Well, we knew they were coming eventually,” says Raen. “How many with the first group?” “Six hundred,” replies Peli. “Are you kidding?” shouts Vas, turning pale. “That’s wonderful,” says Raen, happily. “The Orphan Annexes are working better than we thought they would.” “Don’t worry, House Struthio is sending us some help until we can get it all sorted out,” says Peli. “I also got the feeling the Struthians manning the annexes have grown fond of them. Lord Struthio has asked for a meeting with you to discuss some of the orphans being adopted by the Struthians.” “I’ll agree to that, but I want to meet every prospective parent,” says Raen. “Lord Struthio said you’d say that, many of the Struthians wanting to adopt will arrive tonight and greet the incoming orphans tomorrow.” Vas was tapping furiously on a tablet, Raen peeked over his shoulder. “Do we have enough food?” asks Raen. “I’ll have to get Clap to order more fishing poles,” says Vas. “Don’t try to put too much on the new orphans,” says Raen. “Remember, it took months to get this group right, they didn’t trust us for a long time.” “I don’t think it will be as hard this time around,” says Peli. “We have all our orphans to help.” “What you just said is the only thing I’m really worried about,” says Raen. “Our Orphans… New Orphans… Old Orphans… We don’t want to create cliques.” “We have our orphans already separated into Tarlock family groups,” says Moeth. “Daraians as a whole don’t trust each other, but as a species we will blindly follow a Demonian Tarlock whether we know him or not. Lets have all the Tarlock groups at the airport and immediately assign the new orphans to a family group.” “That’s a good idea,” says Raen. “If anyone can keep the chaos to a minimum, it will be the Tarlocks.” “We should invite the Demonians at the Foundry and Shipyards to come also,” says Vas, putting his tablet away. “Why them, they’re not Tarlocks?” asks Raen. “I forgot to tell you,” says Vas. “Many of our hatchlings have been attaching themselves to the other Demonians. You don’t necessarily have to be a Tarlock Priest to care for a hatchling, with a Tarlock’s approval, a normal Demonian can be assigned as a Lay Tarlock. I believe we have four probationary adoptions already, all approved by a Tarlock Priest.” “I thought they were apprentice Tarlocks,” says Moeth. “They are, but we aren’t in a position to split hairs. The Tarlock apprentices are performing the duties of a full Tarlock Priest, we might as well give them the respect they deserve.” “I wasn’t aware of this, but I agree,” says Raen. “Most of them would already be full Tarlock Priests if it weren’t for the Demonian disaster. Once the Tarlocks start arriving from other worlds we’ll probably see our Tarlocks get their horn markings.” “Oh, I hope they let us watch the Marking Ceremony,” says Peli. “We need to get inside,” says Moeth. “The Ballet Show is getting ready to start.” The Moeth alliance climbed the stairs to the box seats where the adults would be sitting, the hatchlings dominated the floor benches. The Theater was built rustic to match the theme of the rest of the growing town. Raen thought the benches were an excellent idea, they could easily be stacked against the wall and the Theater could serve as a dance hall, or school, or any number of purposes. An orchestra was arranged in front of the stage and hatchlings fought over the benches up front to get a better view of the musical instruments. The lights dimmed, though Raen wasn’t sure if that was on purpose or because they were at the limit of electricity the Cargo Ships could provide. The hatchlings quieted down and the curtain parted, the backdrop was a forest and quite nice. Kamae, the lead male ballet star, leaped dramatically onto the stage, and Raen was pretty sure the dancer was portraying him. The dancer twirled and jumped and did all manner of interesting acrobatics. Raen had never seen a ballet before and hadn’t been sure what to expect, but this was actually interesting. A group of Swan hatchling dancers tentatively entered the stage next and Kamae danced around them, beckoning them further out onto the stage. Raen looked down on his own hatchlings, he had expected some rowdiness, or at the least some fidgeting from being bored, but they were all raptly fixed on watching the stage. The choice to include hatchling dancers had been a good choice. A female dancer glided onto the stage next, it was unmistakably supposed to be Moeth. Kamae and the lead female danced, they were… what were they doing? Was it a story? Yes… So ballet is the telling of a story, this was a pleasant surprise, Raen had no idea this is what ballet was, and neither did the eagle hatchlings, they were enthralled. Kamae and the lead female dancer knelt in the center of the stage and stage hands dressed in black cleverly erected a cabin. More adult dancers came onto the stage, followed by more Swan hatchlings. “Oh Goddess,” whispers Raen. “They’re telling the story of how we built the eagle camp in Clapper Province.” “I didn’t know this is what it would be about,” whispers Moeth. “Look at our hatchlings,” whispers Vas from the seats behind Raen and Moeth. Raen glances down at the eagle hatchlings again, they were on their feet and pushing closer to the stage. Some of the black clad stage hands had to come out and form a barricade around the orchestra. Tears welled up in Raen’s eyes at one scene when a Swan hatchling dancer emerged from ‘the forest’. The hatchling dancer was dressed in rags and gracefully stumbled and fell to her knees at center stage. Kamae produced a flowing robe from somewhere and danced circles around the hatchling that was now striking a very dramatic pose to symbolize hunger and despair. Kamae twirled the cloth through the air and then let the robe settle around the hatchlings shoulders. The female lead dancer brought a loaf of bread and offered it to the hatchling next, and the hatchling pretended to eat. Kamae held out his hand and the hatchling slowly rose and began a beautiful dance with the incredible lead dancer. Raen was taken back by the scene, he remember so many times when a hatchling had stumbled from the forest and he and Moeth had rushed to the starving child to offer food and water, and warm clothing. House Swan had been a pain in the backside since they arrived with their silly attempts at manipulation, and dilettante attitudes. They made the White Raven’s tamper tantrums seem amateurish. But, here on stage they had captured the very essence of everything House Eagle represented - this was where the Swans belonged - on stage. The ballet dancers continued to dance story after story of House Eagle’s beginnings. One scene clearly depicted Mergan and Kit rushing to a seriously injured hatchling coming from the forest, red strips of flowing cloth tied to the hatchling’s leg to represent blood. Raen glanced down at his hatchlings searching for the hatchling he knew this scene was about. He found her sitting on the floor weeping and being held by an older chirp. Another scene was an incredible dance as two dancers dressed as Vas and Peli fought a battle to save a hatchling from a mountain lion. Raen remembered when that had happened. How had House Swan known of all these stories? The ballet continued for nearly two hours telling the stories. The curtain closed and the eagle hatchlings screeched and roared and clapped their approval. Then, as one mass the eagle hatchlings turned and rushed out of the theater. The curtain opened again for the dancers to bow, but only to find their audience already gone. Raen and Vas ran down the stairs to follow the eagle hatchlings and try to figure out the unusual response. The eagle hatchlings were running for the cliff, and then leaped out into the thermals and rose into the sky on their new wings. Lady Swan caught up with Raen outside. “I’ve never seen an audience run away before, didn’t they like the performance?” Raen watched the eagle hatchlings in the sky for a few moments. “I’ll be damned,” says Raen. “Lady Swan, get your dancers out here, quickly.” Lady Swan ordered one of her attendants to go get the cast. They poured outside, unsure what was happening. Raen pointed at the sky, it was Kamae that figured it out first. “Oh ancestors,” gasps Kamae. “I’ve never seen such a thing.” Lady Swan put her hands over her mouth and whispered, “nobody has ever thought to do that before, how can they fly like that?” “It’s a new wing design that Doctor Mergan invented,” replies Raen. “Those are eagle wings, we can make appropriate designs for other Houses as well.” “House Swan would like to place an initial order for fifty-thousand of those wings based on our House colors,” says Lady Swan. “Your eagles have just invented a whole new way of dancing.” Raen smiled proudly at his eagles and watched them unmistakably mimicking the ballet they had just seen, but in the sky. The hatchlings flew wing-tip to wing-tip, spinning and twirling, while others leaped across the sky. They would dip down, pull their wings in tight, and then use the momentum to literally recreate the leaps they had seen on stage - with proper training and choreography, great sky ballets could be written. “I would like to open a School of Ballet here in Eagle Province,” says Lady Swan. “Make it an all-encompassing School for the Performing Arts and I will grant it,” says Raen. “You can make it part of the University the White Raven is building.” “Agreed,” replies Lady Swan. House Eagle had just put it’s talon-print on the culture of Darai.