It wouldn’t be for at least a year (an eternity at seventeen and eighteen) that the rota would come round to pair us, if it ever did , so I took matters into my own hands, and invited Jehen on an excursion in my own skimmer. High we flew, high, higher than they let anyone fly in the Academy skimmers. My skimmer was not a teaching craft but the real thing, designed and built by engineering masters, and lovingly maintained by me. (If you don’t know your own craft and its state at any moment, you risk your own life and every life aboard.)
As we rose above the towers of the Academy in time to greet the sun breaking over the Inland Sea, Jehen burst into song, a pure wordless aria that send shivers through me and set every hair aquiver, as if I had been transmogrified into feather-antennae with ecstasy at the heart.
That song came not from an Artist on a performer’s dais, but from Jehen, dark and masterful and quicksilver, whom I had admired in the dancing-arena and the trial flights. Terrifying, exotic Jehen who would to a certainty be Captain of her own Ship seven years hence.
(They don’t name that number, by the way; it’s the Fourth Prime and I learned that fast, without having to be scolded for it, unlike the business of lounging on the grass which I never again did after Jehen rebuked me.)
Character interview with the archaeologist and Expedition Chief, Martisset yr Astok, from NaNo 2013, Inside the Jump. Weekend Writing Warriors offers eight-sentence excerpts from a variety of writers; see the other excerpts here.