Title: Thay's Children
Author: SilverAshes
Rating: K+
Summary: In the moment, he wondered if one day she might again need his advice, but at the time he never looked back. Written for The Looking Glass Matrix Fanfiction Challenge: Reloaded
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Don't claim to. Have no money. End of.
A/N: Done in true student style – the night before, with the assistance of my good friend Caffeine. Unedited, unbeta'ed and unplugged - let's just hope it's not unreadable.
With thanks to ZA, who's co-modding this challenge with me, and a special nod to all the guys and gals at TLG.
Circa 2185, freeborn Commander Thay stood before his fidgeting maths class. It was his fourteenth year teaching first-years in the Zion Academy, and in his time the personalities he'd come across never ceased to amaze him. There was the obligatory class clown; the tightly-knit group who would undoubtedly fail because their social lives interfered with their study hours; and the dark-horse, the slightly unhinged genius. He could pick them more or less before he even started his welcome speech, and had easily pegged the four boys on the far right as the party animals, the ginger boy with freckles in the back row as the clown, and the pale, raven-haired girl three rows back on the left as the genius. He'd have to watch that one… she had that look about her that said what was going on in her head was happening ten thousand times faster than any casual observer would assume.
He began with his usual oration – a five minute scare-them-and-shock-them affair designed to promote studious habits over the typical binge-drinking habits. It wouldn't last beyond the first week, he knew, but it was all he could do to at least attempt. Finishing with his trademark joke (What do you call a hot, rusty sentinel? Salt and pepper squid), he moved onto the subject content.
Thay was the highest respected teacher in the Academy, mostly because of his compassionate yet expectant approach to students. The other staff joked behind his back that the pupils might as well have been his children because of his willingness to take them under his wing when things went awry. But for Thay, there was really nothing as abominable, challenging or ultimately fulfilling than teaching adolescent poddies – and along the way helping them discover the beauty of complex mathematics.
About ten minutes into the lecture, he was pleased to note that his skills in social observation had not rusted in the slightest. The boys were laughing and throwing spitballs, the ginger scoundrel was making faces behind his turned back (as if he couldn't see) and the girl was looking thoroughly bored in that way that only the brilliant can look. So he decided he'd humour her – in his opinion the brilliant needed to be challenged frequently on the harsh road to self-discovery. Making the quantum leap to residue theory, he singled her out with a question about deriving Laurent Series. And true to form, her quiet answer was exactly right and exhibited a skill in algebraic manipulation well above that of her peers.
Over the next six months of the course, Thay observed that quiet young woman expand her already impressive intelligence in leaps and bounds. She often came to his office after class to discuss interesting mathematical patterns she observed and strange quirks in the code training sims. She remained detached from the other students, apart from her 'brother' who was not involved in Thay's classes anyway, choosing philosophy and meditation over mathematics and the physical sciences.
Over time, his star student developed a reputation as the ice queen of the grade, relating to few teachers and even fewer of her classmates. But when it came to her final examinations and she scored 98.7, she was immediately offered the highly-sought after position of Second-in-Command aboard Zion's most controversial (and most successful) hovercraft. He felt like a proud father at her crew induction ceremony, standing by in his black Ground Official's uniform as she was presented with her Officer's beret in woven pale blue.
He watched her career blossom and her reputation as both an intelligent and ruthless assassin develop. They still caught up for a cup of soupy herb coffee whenever she was on shore leave, and she would tell him wonderful stories of running from agents and intriguing twists in the mathematics of the code. In return, he'd tell her about his first-years and she'd laugh at his completely over-exaggerated stories of what forty hungover eighteen year olds could be like on a Monday morning.
On one occasion, whispers of a Messiah could be heard echoing around the cavernous expanse of Zion. Whispers that included a certain hovercraft and a certain Second-in-Command. When he'd bumped into her in the market one morning, looking glowing and happier than he'd ever seen her, he knew. He didn't have to ask – it was etched in her face and written in her now sparkling eyes. As any proud father would, he'd waved and smiled at her as they parted company and he headed out towards the elevators. In the moment, he wondered if one day she might again need his advice, but at the time he never looked back.
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Circa 2199, Command Thay stood by as a flag-draped coffin was lowered into a blazing furnace. The woven cotton caught fire almost immediately, and it took only a few seconds before the reconstituted synthetic wood was alight. He bit his lower lip in an effort to contain the emotions pounding inside his head, but found himself unable to control the stubborn tears when he looked skyward. Suspended from the cavernous heights he found a great canvas portrait, exact in almost every single detail. Though she was leaving this city forever, her presence still shone down upon them.
The walk back to his apartment was heavy, and his heart ached for the stolen life of the girl he'd first seen huddled in the left of his classroom so many years ago. But another voice was telling him to remember her the way she would want to have been remembered – the way a proud father would remember his daughter. She'd saved everyone, sacrificed everything - and eventually her own life - for the freedom of all these people. Who was he to deny the heroine that lived inside her?
Thay's children were remarkable creatures of unknown strength, and he liked to think that perhaps his guidance would be enough to help them reach their potential in some small way. That perhaps one day he might come to terms with losing them to a cause far greater than the mathematics of life itself.