Nadir – Chapter 7

"Tango-Juliet One, over" the Flash said repeating his identification to Salt Lake Center as they were handed off from one flight controller to the next.

"Vulcan!"

"I still think she's a Jedi."

Wally shook his head over the argument between the two boys behind him. It had been the same debate on the way to CADMUS, and the trip back was no better. It did not help that the only other adult on the plane was her.

She was behind him at the communications console. The clicking of the keyboard blended in with the back and forth volley between Kid Flash and Superboy. He shifted in his seat, keeping one eye on the radar and one on the yoke as the automatic pilot gave him a break from the focus of flying the T-Jet.

I wonder if she feels as funny as I do, he mused. I'm pretty sure she knows how awkward I feel right now.

Finally, the bickering between the two teenagers and the tic-tic-tic of Raven's fingers flying over the keyboard got to be too much for him.

He tossed her a glance over his shoulder. Trying to pitch his voice in a friendly tone. "What are they talking about?"

Raven kept typing; her eyes never left the console. The screen lit up her face with a faint blue glow.

After a moment, he swiveled his chair back to face the instrument panel. Oooookay. I guess that answers that question.

"They are referring to me," she said, her voice distracted and quiet. "The debate has gone on for weeks now."

"Doesn't it bother you that they talk about you like that?"

"No."

Wally waited for a longer answer, but all he heard was more clicking of keys. Well, at least she said something. I don't know what I'm hoping for, but she did speak to me.

". . . Well . . ." he continued, trying to fill in the clumsy silence between them. "Why not? I remember a time when it would have."

He watched her out of the corner of his eye to see how she would react; if she would react.

"Because they only mean well by it." The ticking stopped as she turned to look at him. Clear violet marbles gazed directly into his own. "And because it means they aren't afraid of me."

Gentle steel underpinned those words. Those no-longer-blue eyes pulsed with some feeling he could not identify. It was not quite hostility, but it was not quite affection, either.

Her gaze returned to the report she was writing. "And I've been called worse."

(break)(break)

Inwardly, Raven cringed every time he tried to engage her in conversation.

I am not sure what he is hoping to gain, here, she thought to herself. One hand wandered from the keyboard to brush against where she had bitten her lip during her confrontation with Thunder Horse only a few weeks before. Although it had healed, the spot still ached. That had been the last time she had really thought about Wallace, and it was the time she had really been able to let his memory go.

She continued to type in hope that her demonstration of focus would discourage him from any further conversation. She reached deep to find that buzzing connection to Garfield in her mind, the one that reminded her that she no longer walked the world alone. Its hum calmed the ruffles in her spirit and gave her the feeling that she could, indeed, complete this mission with the Flash. She returned her attention to the screen in front of her.

All tissue samples stolen by the BRU have been located and accounted for. They are being transported back to Titans Tower for further storage until we can decide their final disposition…Computerized representations of the genetic code for several Titans were located in their systems. Copies of those files were downloaded then deleted . . . However, it was discovered that there may be off-site backups of these files at an undisclosed location, so the information is still available to CADMUS even without the actual samples . . . We believe that no clones were actually created with this information.

She tried to shut out the noise and awkward emotion around her as she reread her last statement. No, Raven. Think like a detective.

She deleted the sentence.

We found no evidence stating that clones had been created at this facility. Whether other attempts were made at other facilities remains to be seen.

She glanced over at the weather information on the screen to her right. "Wallace, there are reports of turbulence in our path. I would suggest you secure your belt."

He drifted into irritation: "I'm fine."

Two young arms encircled her shoulders from behind. She didn't need to see the crimson gloves to know who it was.

"So, samurai," Bart giggled. "You gonna settle this bet once and for all? So which are ya? Jedi? Vulcan?"

Raven turned to him with an academic air. "Can I not be both? A . . . Vulcan Jedi?"

"But Raven," Conner countered. "They're two different universes! You just can't –"

"Sure I can," she returned with a sly wink. "I can cross dimensions, you know."

"Ahhhhhhh," Bart and Conner chorused. Bart returned to his seat and rubbed his chin. The two boys were silently lost in this new proposition.

Wally just snorted, his irritation retreating from her a little in the new silence. She could sense him struggling with her unusually witty banter.

Let him absorb that for a while, she thought.

A sudden jolt rushed through her as her hips were thrown against her restraints. A sharp pain ripped into her forehead as she sensed an injury off to her left. Her eyes took in what she felt as her ears registered the shrieking of the main cockpit alarm. The cabin tilted sharply as the jet banked to the south.

"Stay there!" she barked at the two boys. Clinging to the headrest of her seat with one hand, she released her restraints. She hauled herself along the aisle and stayed low until she reached the pilot's seat where Wally was sprawled across the console. He was rolling off and down to the far side of the cabin as she reached him.

She pushed him back into the seat and off the yoke that his shoulder was pushing out of place. Fighting to maintain her own balance, she righted the yoke -- knowing enough about flight to ensure that the jet remained straight and level – before belting him in. She pulled the four-point harness over his shoulders to hold up his barely conscious body.

"Bart," she said, trying to keep the unbidden panic from rising in her voice, "His collision with the console has damaged some of the controls." She sat in the co-pilot's seat and grasped the yoke, still holding straight-and-level. It was the only thing about powered flight that she knew.

The radio clamored for her attention. "Tango-Juliet One, this is Salt Lake Center. You've deviated from your flight path. Is there a problem? Over."

With her free hand, she rammed the free headset onto her ear. She tried to remember the code words that the other Titans used when they piloted.

"Center, this is Tango-Juliet One. Our pilot was injured during some turbulence and is unable to take command. I require assistance."

There was no reply.

"I think the outgoing-speaker-thingie was damaged," Conner said.

There were few times that she wished to return to her emotionless state; as she pushed down the rising alarm in her throat, she realized that this was one of those times.

"I am declaring an emergency," she replied.

Static answered her.

"Raven," Connor asked, nervousness flowing from him. "Are you certified to fly this thing?"

"No, Connor, I am only certified to fly – fly myself." She punched a few buttons on the radio while fighting to keep the jet on a straight path. "Tango-Juliet One to anyone listening. Our pilot is injured. We require assistance."

Only static hung in the air.

I could take it into my soul-self, she thought, but I have no idea how to shut it down once inside to transport us home.

Bart's eyes widened. "Can we make it back to the tower? Can we land? Anywhere?"

"Not unless we learn how to fly this thing in the next thirty seconds," Superboy said. "Or I could just get out and push—"

"Bad idea," Bart replied. "You'd depressurize the cabin as soon as you opened the door!"

There is one way, she thought. No time to decide. I do not want to do this but . . .

"Bart," Raven began while fighting with the yoke, "have you any flight experience at all? I could get us somewhere safe, but we cannot just abandon the plane. We are over a populated area."

"That's one book I haven't read yet," Bart replied.

The only other option is clear. I must, she concluded.

"Then there is only one choice." Without further hesitation, she leaned over the unconscious Flash. She gently laid a gloved hand on her old love's bloody brow.

"Forgive me, Wallace."

She took the yoke with her other hand.

"Raven, what the hell are you doing?"

"Learning how to fly."

Connor gave her a new look of admiration. "Whoa, she's not a Vulcan -- she's frickin' Neo!"

She released the unconscious speedster and placed her other hand on the yoke.

"Bart, please take him to the sick bay. You know what to do." Her voice had taken on a new calm. She felt herself, distant, accessing the knowledge from their pilot.

Bart clicked his tongue as he winked at her. He unfastened the Flash's seat belt. "Hey, I'm the king of first aid, baby. You just keep flyin'."

He pulled his cousin's arm around his shoulders.

"And don't worry, Raven. If he gets mad about this – I've got your back."

She nodded, barely able to speak with the new information flooding its way into her mind. She had to dive into odd scraps of memory and thought to locate what she needed – the skills to pilot the jet to the ground with its occupants intact. Old emotions – many aimed at her -- bubbled up to meet the young empath. As painful as it was, she sorted through the mental chaff until the knowledge appeared, bright and clear.

She drew it to her, narrowing her focus on it alone, not wanting to see the other parts of his mind, and not wanting to invade his life again.

Restraints dug into her shoulders as more turbulence assaulted the wounded jet. Her teeth rattled as the entire cabin shook; it was riding the rapids of the sky like a raft in white water. She shut out the shouts of alarm coming from the bay in the back – Bart can take care of things there.

Her hands and fingers flew over the console with deliberate and mechanical movements, as if Wally's mind were pulling the strings on her muscles. Suddenly, the meaning behind the bank of numbers and lights on the console meant something to her. The knowledge now appeared unbidden, showing what to examine and to discard; what was important and what was trivial: altitude, fuel levels, airspeed, pitch. Exactly how to bank and turn and clear the turbulent storm embracing them. What frequency to squawk to alert the tower of their position. What squawk meant.

A single cold stream of sweat meandered down the side of her face and dripped onto her cloak. The facts, the experience and the knowledge inundated her mind, creating new synaptic trails as they went. A strong pulse beat out a rhythm in her temples, and she knew she'd have a roaring headache when this was all over.

The yoke was no longer a foreign instrument; it was an extension of her body. Every shudder and every squeal held meaning as if the jet were speaking to her. A slight shock accompanied the new awareness as the bits of data parked themselves into the correct places in her brain.

"You okay, Raven?" Connor's voice drifted in over the ringing in her ears.

"Connor – please—I must –"

At that moment, the nose of the jet pierced the storm and sailed into a night-blue sky.

"Hey, sweetheart!" A familiar voice broke out over the static-ridden speaker as the sun began to shine across the land in front of them. The radio was not completely dead. "Caught your squawk, guys. Everything all right? Over."

Her mechanical voice echoed across the headset. "Garfield. The Flash is wounded. I am piloting."

"Holy – okay, Rave. How are you –-"

"I am borrowing the knowledge."

A tense silence eked into her ear. "You tapped him, didn't you?"

"I had no choice."

"Hoooo-kay. We'll deal with that later. Let's just get you guys on the ground."

"We are fifteen minutes away, present course and speed. Please contact Salt Lake Center for us so they are aware of our situation. We are out of contact with them."

"Opening the hangar bays for you, darlin'. You need me to talk you in?"

"Just stay with me. I believe things are well under control."

How easy it suddenly was, this thing called piloting, this skill that had been something I have avoided for so long, she thought No wonder Wallace loves it so.

Bart's voice called over the intercom: "Are we there yet?"

A giggle, unbidden, bubbled up through her chest. "We are arriving at the tower just now. Switching to V.T.O.L. on my mark. Hold on, gentlemen."

(break)(break)

Raven hung her head over the console. Exhaustion crept into the sides of her vision as the expected headache began to pound ever deeper into her skull. All she wanted to do was to find her Garfield and ask for some of his "cuddle therapy". The sharper ache on her forehead reminded her that, even though they had landed safely, her job for the day was not yet complete.

She followed Connor to the sick bay, where Bart was already unstrapping Wallace from the medical couch.

"Thanks for getting us home, Raven," Bart said softly.

She rested one weary hand on his shoulder. "You are welcome, Bart. Thank you for your help, as well."

She released him and leaned over the other young man. Painful memories of other times that she had stood over him rattled in her mind, but she pushed them away to tend to the present. One touch to his face opened the door to his pain, and she siphoned it away from him and into herself. Her own skin in cracked open in mimicry of his wound, and then resealed itself in a heartbeat. Her head wobbled a moment as it pushed that pain away and past the still-shimmering network of newly constructed roads in her mind.

She peeled her eyes back open to check on Wallace's condition…

…and met his bright eyes smoldering back at her.

(break)(break)

A/N:

I do not own any elements of Star Trek, Star Wars, or the Matrix.

I have seen Raven demonstrate this "Knowledge Tap" at least once before, in The New Titans #6 (1990), page 30. The Titans are on Tamaran. Raven's soul self catches up with a moving enemy ship, puts the two pilots to sleep, and uses their thoughts to guide the craft to a landing. Pretty cool. I thought it would be neat to do it again – and have to do it to the last person she needs to do that to.

V.T.O.L Vertical Take Off and Landing. This is a propulsion system that allows the Titans to use the jet from the tower without having a runway.

Bart's "samurai" comment is related to my one-shot fanfic, "Stair Luge Samurai".