Feather Flight: Something Inside You Seems to Glow (part 10)
An AU Kuja fic, shonen-ai, language
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The droning began more as a feeling then a sound. A faint vibration in the bones of the watchmen alerted them to the thread before their enemy cleared the heights. The rocky canyons were riddled with thousands of convenient gorges and hide-aways. Moving with hushed energy, the brigade collapsed dusty tents, dispatched messengers, and sank into position. Their mobile cannon whined feebly as it quickly charged up beneath its protective swath of canvas and camouflage. Scuffed and beaten with hard use, the weapon was due for retirement as soon as a replacement arrived; if its replacement arrived. With Stingers in the air, any hope of a supply ship making it through the passes was delayed for another day.
The sound grew deeper as the swarm approached, and a low whistle alerted the commander that the insects were in sight. Stubbing out his cigarette, the grizzled old man glared thoughtfully at the ridgeline where a small cloud of black was sweeping closer at a ground eating pace. Each set of hard wings was moving fast enough to blur the outlines and filled the air with the sound of propellers. With their translucent wings, Stingers always seemed to be floating, but always in an erratic way. It reminded him of a drunkard staggering from one pub to the next. Seeming to jerk and bounce off of each other, the canyon walls, and even the air itself, they flew in chaotic patterns. They way they moved would have driven any reasoning creature insane.
Luckily for them, Stingers weren't at any risk of having an original thought. Their heads were barely large enough to carry lower-brain functionality, much less anything more useful. Ibat patted his artillery officer to get the man's attention, and then pointed at his target. Too well trained to do more than blink in surprise, the dusty man did as he was told, carefully turning the gun on its pivot and realigning the sites. The Kai took out a pair of binoculars, careful to make sure their lenses didn't catch the light, and took a rough count of their enemy. The flying creatures were actually quite sleek and graceful when compared to the more bulky ground-troops. It was a pity that they weren't half as fragile as they appeared. Generally black in appearance, their carapaces had an almost oily sheen to them in the morning light. They might as well have been made of gears incased in steel for all that they seemed 'alive.' There was no mistaking the creatures were 'grown' and not made. He had smashed nests enough to know first hand what the grub stage looked like.
// … and what they /smell/ like… // The general leaned his head from one side to the other, stretching stiff neck muscles. His breakfast would have to wait. The sooner they cleared out whatever nest was producing the small but constant supply of the flying menaces, the sooner the supply ships could start regular deliveries again; including eggs and other such rare rations. He was willing to forgo a leisurely meal today if it meant he could have a proper one tomorrow.
// … and bacon…. And a damn cannon that doesn't have sand in all its innards so it malfunctions half the damn time… //
Shadows skittered crazily beneath the oncoming squadron of Selwe, looking just as erratic as the insects flying up above. His gunner tensed, marking the position of the dark blur based on rocks beneath them. The first of the gleaming bugs passed over the lip of the valley, signaling that it was time for the dance to begin.
"Do it."
The man really didn't need the order to know his work. The cannon's whine became a mechanical roar as a broad band of light poured from the tip and cut directly into the rock wall of the cliff side. The Stingers, predictably, sensed the deadly blast and dove lower, their tired wing-beats growing erratic as they sought to land on the smooth rock below. The flying insects were highly mobile, but their stamina was predictably short. It took a lot of energy to keep them airborne. They needed to rest, and when on the ground they were, if not vulnerable, then at least easier to hit. Getting them to land was easy. The trick was keeping them down.
A swath of shattered rock cascaded down the wall of the ravine bouncing and fragmenting into a granite shower. The small boulders and dust formed a clattering cloud. Several of the rocks found their marks, shattering wings and limbs as they fell through the small swarm. Confused by the debris, the Selwe's flight became more erratic, putting them at greater risk for injury. Soon the entire scouting party was on the ground, fluttering damaged wings and trying to clean the dust from their multifaceted eyes.
Ibat's attack force moved as if they were one with the dusty brown scenery, closing in and surrounding their disoriented enemy. Bullets were depressingly ineffective against the hard shelled creatures, and the beam-cannon was too slow and costly. The tired veterans stuck with older, more reliable methods to defeat their enemies. Swords easily separated the sharp-edged pincers from the body along the vulnerable joints. Spears pierced the thin chinks in the armor of the thorax and head.
Kicking away a still twitching corpse, the general settled himself on a sunny boulder and lit another cigarette. "Good enough… but where did they come from, I wonder. They don't have the brains to go foraging for themselves… there has to be someone steering them."
"We'll start scouting for the nest, sir?"
"Hmm… the sooner we stamp it out, the sooner we can get back on a regular schedule."
"Yes sir!"
The older man smiled to himself as his troops scattered. "Might as well give the boy a 'welcome back' present… a clean supply line ought to do nicely."
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"You're doing it wrong, you know." The student looked up from his chalkboard with a nervous jump. Kuja hid his smirk behind a hand, feigning a yawn. The boy scribbling equations on the wall was still staring, obviously trying to puzzle out who he was.
// He knows I can't be faculty… which means he'll either assume I'm a courtier… or… //
"Are you a student?"
// …figures. //
"Not quite." He smiled and made his way across the empty class room. "Anyway, your calculation is still off."
"I've worked on this for days! Who are you to tell me I'm wrong…"
"Days, hmmm? Maybe you should take a break and sleep a little…" The cat-man leaned closer and sniffed dramatically. "… and a bath. You've made some rather rudimentary errors in your subtraction. Your answer will be invalid."
"Show me." Grumpy, the younger man held out his fragment of chalk in challenge. An offer the genome was more than happy to accept. Feeling perfectly at home, despite the unusual surroundings he contemplated the curving numbers, making guesses about the symbols he didn't know.
"Well, first of all, seven minus five is not three…" He kept his face impassive as his companion flinched. Wiping the error away and replacing it, he continued rechecking the work. "And here… two twelves are…?"
"…twenty-four…"
"…exactly…" He smudged out another error and replaced it with the new values. "So we take the log of the new number, and apply the constant for gravity… I assume you are no carrying the extra digits for brevity's sake? Always carry three-places in your final calculations." The student at his side had grown quieter as he worked. "… and now we see that the real outcome is actually a factor of ten larger than it was before."
"But that won't do, we don't have any fuels that can provide that much thrust…"
Kuja turned to his unwilling pupil with a smile. "Then it's a good thing you found that out on paper before trying it in reality. Far less embarrassing, don't you think?"
"…Yes, I suppose so…" The youth pulled his cap off and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Who /are/ you… how can you do calculus so easily?"
"Perhaps I've just been doing it for longer than you." He handed the chalk back with a friendly shrug. "My name is Kuja. I'm here for an appointment with the school's Dean… but she doesn't seem to have remembered me."
"She has a nack for getting side-tracked. Yes…" The young scholar settled his hat back on his head with a careless gesture and sat on the nearest desk. "Say, if you're just waiting… would you be interested in seeing another equation? A friend of mine is chewing away at a proof and is absolutely stumped…"
"If he's nearby… I'd be interested."
"Very close, and we'll have one of the freshmen keep an eye out for the old hag for you so you don't miss her…"
// I seem to be making a habit of being abandoned by my companions and making new friends… or at least new adversaries… // He had been looking forward to the meeting with the senior scientist of the castle. Laro had even promised to return in time for dinner, so he had started off with high expectations for the day. After waiting for a lonely half-an-hour in the courtyard however, the silver-haired man had reevaluated his hopes.
// This seems an amusing distraction, anyway… // Kuja gamely followed the boy in the brown jacket out of one empty class room, across the courtyard, and into a nearly identical room. This time there were three frazzled looking students all scribbling over each other in an attempt to make sense of an equation. Allowing his guide to race ahead and do the introductions, he paused to examine some of the clutter. There were several carefully cut pieces of what he thought at first were obsidian. The edges were too clean for the fragile crystal however, and when he tilted it into the light, he saw both a fibrous grain, and an unusual purple overtone to the hard tile.
// Organic then…? Artificially cut into a portable segment? But to what purpose? //
"Mr. Kuja, sir?"
He noted that one side was considerably smoother and shinier than the other. He wondered how it would respond to being struck by a hammer. Maybe, like the organic metals of Terra, it would simply flex instead of breaking.
"Mr.Kuja…?"
"What /is/ this…? It's almost like a ceramic… but with these grains…"
"That?" The younger man blinked. "It's a shell fragment, you can have it if you want, we have dozens… they're just to run tests on… but come, I want to introduce you around… they're really keen to see if you can spot something useful…"
Bemused, the cat-man shook hands with the small group and settled himself comfortably on a desk to examine their work. The progressive theory they were anxiously trying to prove was sadly familiar.
"It's a good proof… but it's hardly groundbreaking work, I think… someone already solved it."
"They did?"
"When!"
"That can't be, we're the only ones who have ever made it this far!"
Kuja blinked, and reconsidered his words. He had all the benefits of an advanced civilization during his education and training. They were trying to reach Terra's level of technical mastery with far much less in the way of raw talent. An entire world's scientific community trapped within the confines of one sprawling college. The idea was dizzying. "… Ah, my mistake… I think I was remembering something /similar/ to this…"
They were relieved enough that they let it slide, excitedly talking in turns about their work over the past months.
// There must be other colleges still surviving… not all the large cities have been wiped out… but still, if this is the largest… // He looked at the energetic students, and pondered how many of their 'projects' would directly funnel into the war effort. Given that they were trying to unravel a heat-transfer theory, this chore in particular would be /very/ useful. The genome could name five potentially deadly applications of the equation on the board without even trying. That was of course, if they could get it to balance correctly.
// Right now they're on their way to blowing themselves to kingdom-come… // He shook his head.
"First thing… did anyone notice that you forgot to carry the minus-sign down from row three?" Four mortified sets of eyes turned to the board. Two of the students slapped the third boy with their hats.
"Idiot!"
"I checked that! I swear!" Watching their frantic corrections, Kuja leaned back on his hands and did his best to remember how the equation was supposed to look. He was surprised how much he could recall. It wasn't that he had ever personally applied much, but his schooling had been comprehensive. Garland had not only wanted to prepare him for Gaia, after all, but test him, his understanding, his adaptability, and his ability to retain and report back what he was exposed to. It felt strange to be doing something with the information. Almost as strange as it had felt to sit down and actually puzzle out the way of forming the black mages from mist, burlap, wool and straw.
// I shouldn't have used mist… that was the risk factor… if they had been clockwork, they wouldn't have had souls, or needed them… and so they would have never 'woken up'… //
The idea of the black mages troubled him, a nagging faint sort of guilt that he couldn't completely ignore. Irony wasn't something he liked to acknowledge but he had to just the same. Everything that they had been to him was nothing less than a subconscious echo of what he had been to Garland. It made him slightly ill to think about it. Somehow in their own individual time, in their own individual way, he and the crazy old man had rationalized their actions in exactly the same way.
// Give them a soul to give them power… Give them a soul because it is the simplest way of getting the job done… don't worry about durability, don't worry about longevity… they're just tools… what do they matter? When I tired of them I would just destroy the lot and make something better… I wonder… that it never occurred to me that he wouldn't reason in exactly the same way… we were all expendable after all… why should I have been the exception… //
He looked up to see that the group was once again stuck, but the formula looked better. Not willing to give the correct answer just yet, he cleared his throat to grab their attention. "Now… think a moment…honestly… the left side… what are the units?"
"… units…?"
They stared at the board and then at each other. "… It's a measurement of heat…?"
"Very good. Now, what are the units on the right side?"
"Not heat?"
"Exactly. Now… how do we take pressure… which is what you /do/ have… and turn it into heat?"
"… multiply by the temperature constant of the material…"
"Well then?"
It was almost as much fun as beating the old Duke at cards while eating fresh cherries. Almost. His legs were tired from perching on the hard wood for so long, and the pressure wasn't making his hand feel any better either. He inspected the bandages while his protégées worked. The wrappings were far more discrete than before; an almost decorative layer of dark satin hid the thin cotton padding of the bandage from view. His soldier had been too tired during the last few nights to even notice the stubborn wound.
They had fallen into a depressing pattern of only really seeing one another at breakfast. As nice as it was to meet new people, the cat-man was beginning to think that by the time he and Laro were able to sit and talk as they used to, the man would be walking out the door for good. He reached out for the fragment of shell again, turning it over in his hands and wondering at the sort of beast that could grow such a thick piece of armor.
// … 'and all the monstrous beasts that sleepeth beneath the seas'…? It's like no clam /I've/ ever seen… //
He smiled to himself. Given that all of his experiences on Gaia and Terra were rather useless now, it shouldn't have surprised him that he had found a new puzzle. The genome looked up at the sound of a wild 'whoop' of joy. His students had gone on without him paying attention, and were now standing back to consider their work. He did the same, leaning over to follow the last few lines of simplification.
"Well now… that looks /much/ better…" Kuja hopped down from his seat to stretch.
"See? All you needed was a fresh pair of eyes. Now you can get on with actually applying it and do all sorts of interesting things."
"Indeed, Mr. Kuja."
The voice, new and rather unexpected caused them all to turn around in alarm. Standing in the doorway was a rather broad-shouldered woman smoking a cigar. The genome blinked as he made the connection. Her hair was almost in competition with his for its lack of color. In the Dean's case, it was probably the result of age rather than genetics.
"Dean Finlay, I presume?"
"Hmmm…" The woman moved to investigate the results of her student's efforts, a puff of smoke betrayed her excitement. "Copy that down, and have someone check it."
"Yes, sir."
"As for you…" Her eyes were actually quite pleasant when taken out of context of her hard facial features. Kuja forced his mind back on the task at hand. The youthful exuberance around him was only making him tired. He felt ill qualified for another verbal sparring match. Perhaps he could fall back on baffling her with prose. The woman's next comment was surprisingly charitable. "I hope waiting hasn't been too… dull."
"I managed to make myself useful."
"From what I've heard, you've been doing that quite often since your arrival… It's not just any courtesan that can get the 'Walking Skeleton' to eat out of their hand in less than a day."
The cat-man feigned ignorance of the nick-name. It was obvious she was referring to the elderly duke, but he didn't see a need yet to take her into his confidence. He couldn't read her well enough to determine if she was pleased or annoyed at his interaction with her students.
He smiled briefly. "And I will tell you what I have told everyone. I am no courtesan."
"Yes, well… that's all very well and good for you to /say/ Mr.Kuja… but that leaves us with a most perplexing question of what to /do/ with you…" She led him down several confusingly similar hallways and into a comfortable looking office.
"I'm afraid I have never been someone easy to categorize."
"Dr. Ing mentioned something of that too…" The older woman noted his surprise. "He was a classmate of mine. There is little he knows that I don't. Unfortunately his letter concerning /you/ was… remarkably skimpy. An oversight I have instructed him to rectify in his next note."
"I doubt he would have much of interest to say in any case…" There was nothing Kuja could do but hope his previous care-taker would be discrete about what he shared with his peers. It wasn't like he could stop the man if the doctor chose to reveal those few secrets in his possession.
"Well there /is/ something of interest to me… if you would oblige me?"
// … and so the interrogation begins again… // The genome sat down without being invited to. Something about the stuffy, cigar odor-ed air to the room was making him dizzy.
"… By all means."
"… Your family name is 'kuja,' and your personal name is 'masa'…? I found that most peculiar."
// … damn Laro and his poetic sensibilities… //
"Ah. /That/."
"Yes, rather."
"Blame Laro, I'm afraid." He sat back with a sigh deciding he wasn't in the mood to put on a show of strength, and sure that it wouldn't be well received anyway. "Ing may have told you that I am something of an anomaly… a bit of flotsam washed ashore…"
"He mentioned that you were a foundling, yes."
"What he might have overlooked was that I was unconscious for some time, after my rescue… In that time, Laro took it upon himself to rename me… 'Masa' was well and firmly stuck before I woke, and it has gotten so that even I have grown used to it."
"… so Kuja…?"
"Is my real name."
"Your first name, or your last?"
"… It is the only name I have ever had."
"How remarkable." She chuckled in amusement. "Pure coincidence?"
"Laro seemed suitably startled when he found out."
"I'll bet." Fumbling through her desk, she produced a wedge of cheese, a half eaten smoked sausage, and a paper box of what could only be crackers. "I'm starving and you're looking a little gray. How about we have a snack… and then maybe you can tell me just how it is you know so much about converting mass to energy."
The peasant fare actually looked tempting. The feeling of hunger surprised him. He turned his head slightly to catch his reflection in the dusty mirror. It wasn't just that the room was shadowy. His face looked washed out and exhausted.
// … I had a good night's sleep… and I remembered to eat breakfast… /and/ made an attempt at lunch… so why can't I manage to go a whole day without feeling like I've been wrung out and left to hang. //
The sausage had a spicy taste, and surprisingly, eating made him feel a little better. He helped himself to a slice of cheese.
"What do you want to know?"
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blah blah blah, plot… I put it down somewhere…
-Lunar
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