A/N: Not going to comment on the Artemis Fowl movie trailer. I will admit that I did not particularly like it and I'm not very hopeful for this movie, but because we still haven't seen it I'm going to try keeping an open mind about it.
Anyway, here's the second chapter! I do not own Julius Root or related characters.
Chapter Two: Task Force Win-Win
"We think you're a viable candidate," concluded Commander Xandes Evergreen, disinteredly looking up from his paperwork for the first time. "Your scores on the simulations are up to standard, and you've completed more than the minimum academy curriculum required for this position. What do you say?"
Root could scarcely believe his ears. He had listened keeping dutifully silent, posture stiffening with every new sentence that came out his chief training officer's mouth.
"I don't think this is my area, Commander."
Xandes looked up at him with sharp, trained eyes over gold-rimmed glasses that would've got made fun of on any other elf. "You don't think this is your area, cadet?"
Root internally cursed his lack of phrasing finesse. "The Board is right, of course, sir. I do pass the necessary requirements. But if I may offer a personal opinion, sir?"
"Go on." Evergreen sounded dangerously calm.
Root swallowed the lump in his throat and thought, D'Arvit, and forged ahead. "I don't believe that the skillset of competitive piloting will match the primary courses on my graduation certificate."
The Commander stared him down for a couple of uncomfortable seconds before he dropped his shoulders and drew out a long, disappointed sigh.
"If you want to go places," he pointed a thick, pudgy ink pen Root's way. "Learn to speak your mind. What is the real reason you don't want this opportunity, that so many struggle to have for themselves?"
Because this program is stupid. It's for people like Turnball and other morons who think they stand a chance against properly trained flight students, and for a different class of idiots who just want to spend two months Aboveground to suck up the air. I have no place either way.
What he ended up carelessly blurting was, "I don't want to do it. Sir."
"That's better," said Evergreen, leaning back in his seat. The seat was worn and flexible, and it made Root's own feet twitch with the effort of holding himself in a rigid stance reflecting respect for almost half an hour. "You don't want to do it- but I'm going to tell you now why I think you should."
He gestured to the empty guest's seat beside which the student stood ramrod straight. "Sit down. I can see your feet getting tired."
While his knees almost buckled with relief, his face turned red with embarrassment, but he grunted a thanks and sat himself gingerly down. The Commander fixed him with a stern look.
"You have big aspirations, cadet. I see that much from your test scores. Tell me, which branch of the LEP do you hope to serve?"
"Recon," said Root without hesitation, because this was the one thing he was a hundred percent certain of.
Xandes nodded in approval. "You have the numbers for it. You'll get in. I'm sure you've thought of what happens afterwards, as well."
Afterwards. Yes, he had; he'd thought it many times, made it his life's ambition. But it was a sacred, secret part of himself that he didn't, and never would, disclose to anyone. He was by no means the only elf in the Academy who wanted to become the head of LEPrecon, but voicing the dream out loud would spell animosity, would bring judgement his way. Might even jinx what chances he had.
Root's throat was tight as he answered as evenly as possible. "Of course, sir. We all hope to advance in our careers."
"And most people don't advance beyond a certain point." Xandes picked his pen up again, something he seemed to do whenever he had to get a message effectively across. And, for some reason, strange tactic worked. "Because they get sloppy. Because there are better people to choose from. Or because-"
Xandes pushed one of the many papers on his desk forward, sliding it into Root's line of vision. It was part of a thick folder, laminated, with the Academy and the fairy Council's seals of approval.
In a corner was an aged photograph of a younger Xandes Evergreen, followed by a long list of eligibility criteria and corresponding signatures of proof.
And Root understood. It hit him like a punch to the gut.
"Sometimes LEP officers hit a glass ceiling," Xandes said in a lower voice, "Because they have one less signature on their certificates than their competition."
Root stared, startled and dumbfounded, at the Gnommish text before him. One of the last listed items on Evergreen's certificate was, indeed, the Flight Academy optional training program.
He only had two years left in the Academy. Only a few more chances to add to his certificate, and he'd nearly blown one.
"I understand, sir." Root looked up from the yellowing board of paper. "How do I sign up?"
The average fairy got to visit the surface less than two times in two decades. Tourism was allowed but restricted and accommodated only a set number at a time, at set venues dictated safe by the Council. Surface visas were hard to come by and spent at least a year in processing; so it was far easier, if far less satisfying, for the People to visit their own civilisation's shallower regions closer to the surface than the above the ground itself.
The average fairy did not believe the concept of the LEP Flight Academy, and theorised that the building's very existence was a hoax. It was, after all, a massive proportion of land above the Earth's crust with its own spacious airfield, airspace and radio control towers. Unbelievable. Most were convinced that the prestigious Flight Academy was actually just a shed with a couple of dented practice shuttles in one of the lesser-known shallow regions.
In reality, the Flight Academy premises looked just as unbelievable as the stories made them sound.
"The shield gate, as you can see, is made of fortified diamond-alloy, which is just about the strongest reflective material ever produced by fairykind," the squat attendant/tour guide gnome was explaining as he directed their gazes outside the shuttle windows. "So to anybody looking from an angle different to this, it's almost as if there were no gate."
The shuttle circled around, making for a gate that opened to a far-too snug looking size to admit it in. The entrance was swift, unfelt, and the sound of an energy field buzzed in their ears before the pilot received some garbled instructions over the radio and the shuttle trembled slightly in the wake of the gate closing behind them.
All of them, himself included, had their faces pressed to the windows as they gaped in befuddlement and awe. Root didn't care how childish he or his colleagues had to look right now; they were witnessing mythology before their eyes.
The building was vast, stretching over a greater plane of green land than Root had ever seen, a collection of large dwellings with flat roofs wide enough to accommodate various models of aircraft, and several black landing strips stretched across the back. It didn't feel like they'd just entered an enclosed space through a gate; this space was great, unending, and stretched as far as his eyes could make out. The sky above it was bright and clear and equally endless- it felt like the building belonged here, like it owned this land on the surface of the world.
It felt like the surface was theirs again.
"Flight Academy is the single biggest fairy dwelling located above the surface," their guide said, somehow managing to wheedle his voice back into their awestruck minds. "It covers an area of eight hundred acres and an airspace completely free from, and safe from, human intervention. This is all thanks to the time-stop and solar shield running over it, which is another groundbreaking accordance of fairy technology. The time-stop is a temporary fixture only put into place on occasions where the solar shield weakens, which is not very common. The shield is the most revolutionary of our innovations since the days of Frond, and there are experts who believe that it is the key to fairies populating the surface once more. We have accomplished the impossible here with this building- why not seek out another land like this and accomplish it again, but for everyone? For every fairy to have the chance to enjoy a safe visit to the surface, and to make themselves a home where they long for it…"
Root exhaled heavily against the glass. This was what he'd almost missed.
Beside him, kneeling on his seat for a better view, Cudgeon squeezed his hand tightly.
The unspoken words were clear: they were going to enjoy this.
Walking through the corridors of their partner Academy during their initiation tour, Root couldn't help but wonder at how different their respective budgets had to be. There was no way this was all Council money; surely Flight had to do a lot of its sponsoring on its own, and that meant it had to have students with wealth.
Everything was state-of-the-art. Everything made his skin itch with unease and questions and doubt, because this was not his environment.
But his colleagues seemed to be soaking it all up, drooling over everything new and shiny that they came across. Even Cudgeon was positively buzzing with excitement that he barely held in check, and the lot of them even got chummy with the students that walked smartly up and down the broad white corridors.
When the tour pointed them in the direction of the great outdoors, though, even Root couldn't feel dour. The air was too fresh, too clean and breathable for that. For the first time in his life he understood what the phrase 'getting drunk of surface air' actually meant, and he decided it was a problem he was more than willing to put up with.
He could handle six months of this. Six months of the freshest air he'd ever breathed, and the most beauty he'd ever seen in one place. Inside the building didn't feel like home- but the surface, the blessed surface, took his breath away with every step, and he couldn't quite believe this was going to be his life for the next six months.
They were eventually shown into three rooms with double bunks that would be theirs for the duration of their stay. Root followed Cudgeon into the one he claimed, resolutely ignoring his brother's eyes at the back of his neck. Turnball could be as prissy as he wanted about his little brother being offered this opportunity that he and so many others had tried hard to get, but if Root knew one thing, it was that just this once, he wasn't competing with Turnball for anything. He'd taken his chance because of its value, not because he had an inflated ego that allowed him to believe he could win the race.
Once inside, Cudgeon switched on the lights and grinned appreciatively at the look of their quarters. It wasn't much- two single bunks, one over the other, two shelf spaces and a desk- but it was far better than they had in their academy, which was tight-pressed for space.
"I like this trip too much already," he commented, climbing up and claiming the top bunk as his own. "Great place, I'm a little fucking jealous, but great place, yeah?"
Root sat himself down in the chair, leaning back against the desk. "It's...incredible," he agreed, thinking more about the open field than the facilities themselves. "How they managed to hide this from the Mud Men, I have no idea."
"Solar shield, warlock magic, some voodoo witchcraft," Cudgeon chuckled, sitting up. "What does it matter? There are fairies who'd kill to be us right now."
Root smiled wryly. "The price to pay being, of course, the death race at the end of the six months."
"Death race." Cudgeon snickered. "Come on, Julius, liven up. You really think we don't have a chance? Look at these prim and proper rich kids. They may have more training, but they sure as hell don't have the same grit."
Explain 'grit', Root wanted to say, but didn't. "Don't know about that, Briar. They seem to have a lot of discipline."
"Oh, bucketloads." His friend snorted. "Look, all I'm saying is that we have a real chance. If you're a good roommate I might even let you come second."
"Hilarious," remarked Root, even as the corner of his mouth ticked up just a fraction.
Cudgeon pulled off his boots, dropping them over the foot of his bunk and messily onto the floor, before tearing off his jacket and other accessories and turning over in the mattress.
"It's been a tiring day," he explained, getting settled in. "Nighty night, Julius."
"It's still evening," Root pointed out. "You'll have to wake up for the night meal."
Briar grunted, burrowing himself more firmly in the thin sheets. "Be a good roommate and smuggle some food in here for me."
Root sighed, deep and exasperated. This was a common song and dance for them, and if he was being absolutely honest with himself, one of the few things under the Earth that he enjoyed. "Why do I have to be stuck with you?"
"Turnball is your other option."
"Right. I forgot."
He couldn't be angry with Turnball or anything else, though, not today. Clean air had filled and retained in his lungs, and today was the first time he witnessed a real sunset, through the impractical clear windows that the academy had thoughtfully left their room.
A/N: Reviews motivate this writer to Get Stuff Written.
Next Chapter: Just who does Raine Vinyáya think she is?