Starchild

I do not own Fire Emblem or any of its characters.

Warning: just in case you thought this was purely rated "T" for "technobabble," this chapter contains consumption of alcohol and pilots behaving badly. Also, while I do not warn for canon pairings (Alm/Cellica and such), we see some other pairings from here on out, and some of them are not exactly "canon" to the games given that this is a mash-up AU. I am not warning for any het pairings. I will warn for intentional slash or femslash pairings, but not for comradely bonding that might be read through "slash goggles" if the reader so chooses.

Chapter Eight: Designing the Perfect Pilot

Squeezed into in a small plastic chair, beneath bright lights, facing down a panel of twelve distinguished military and civilian officials, Eirika felt like a schoolgirl under examination. Or a prisoner at interrogation. She thought, not for the first time, how a pilot's jumpsuit resembled the uniforms of the work camps. Dealing with the Commission on Manned Spaceflight always brought these thoughts to mind; no one answered their questions without the feeling that an ill-chosen answer might mean a stint in the infamous mines of western Elibe.

"Pilot 012, what do you want out of life?"

The question came from a long-nosed man with a thick brown beard and a heavy Elibean accent. The medals of a great general gleamed upon his violet uniform. Eirika remembered what she said the first time she'd been asked that question by the Commission (that time, it had come from the squat bishop with the white goatee), and since the answer had been sufficient before, she said something similar now.

"I want to support the goals of the Free Nations in promoting peace, freedom, and human dignity throughout the world."

Eirika walked away from that interview unsure if her answers had been acceptable or not. She nodded to Micaiah as they passed one another in the doorway; the Commission was interviewing the female pilots today for some obscure reason. Eirika took her seat- another uncomfortable one- in the waiting room.

"What'd you tell them when they asked you your heart's desire?" asked Lyn, who was sitting with arms folded and legs outstretched.

Eirika repeated her answer, and the Elibean pilot pursed her lips.

"Oh, that was clever. I told them I wanted to take life with both hands and get everything from it that I could." Lyn paused for effect, then added, "I don't think the Commissioners liked that."

Eirika just shook her head. Sometimes it seemed that Pilot 009 was doing her best to get ejected from the Programme so that she could return to flying jets over her native land. Aside from the inappropriate comments that crossed her lips, Lyn was getting up to other things that sounded worrisome, like smoking in public and going into the city wearing a skirt slit all the way up her thigh. When Hector had taken his joyride in Fleet-18, Lyn had- supposedly- been the one in the passenger seat.

-x-

The next time all the pilots assembled for training, Eirika kept an eye on Pilots 009 and 010, but it seemed to her that they managed to end up on opposite sides of the group more often than not. Hector always stayed by the side of his former shipmate Eliwood, engaged in dialogues that were partly for their own amusement, and partly for the amusement of everyone else in the corps.

"Wonderful," Hector exclaimed with an outsized sigh as they waited for the transport planes... and for Pilot 014, who was delayed for some reason. "Back to Grado City to have Professor Knoll scowling at us while we play in his planetarium of gloom."

"You should welcome the extra practice, Hector. You admitted yourself you don't know the difference between Antares and Arcturus."

"They're both red, aren't they? It's not as though we're ever going to be allowed to use this star-navigation training."

"Hm. I don't think so. I have the suspicion we'll actually get to do a little piloting this time around.

"Huh. We can only hope for it. Those blasted automated controls are a disaster waiting to happen. Even if they do allow the generals to just grab any rookie out of flight school, lock them up in a capsule and call them a pilot."

Eirika winced; she knew Hector well enough now to realize he didn't intend to slight the initial class of pilots in the corps, but really... the controls on the Falcon I capsules in particular were a sore point for all of them. Humor was one way of dealing with the situation, but on a very basic level the automated controls were simply insulting. To give a human pilot no more control over the spacecraft than a dog...

"Where is Micaiah?" Concern darkened Eliwood's blue eyes as he interrupted his routine with Hector.

"She had a meeting with General Selena," said Cellica.

"Oh, well that can't be important," replied Hector. A general murmur of agreement ran through the corps; dealing with the Programme's director of Human Resources was at best a distraction and at worse downright irritating. No one wanted to be called in for a talk on how they'd used the wrong parking space.

Micaiah arrived just as the doors of the transport planes opened for them.

"Good morning, everyone. I hope the skies are treating you well today," said Micaiah. It seemed to be the way that Tellian pilots addressed one another, and Eirika found it endearing. The more boisterous pilots ribbed Micaiah over what she possibly had done to get so lengthy a lecture from Selena, but Micaiah just smiled and didn't say a word.

They split up, six of them traveling in one plane and seven in the other, a security measure in case of some air catastrophe. Eirika ended up on the plane with Hector and Eliwood, who resumed their conversation once they were airborne.

"... I can't believe they're putting us through all this training. It's unfair, taking so much time out of a busy schedule of holding babies and posing for sculptures..."

Eirika winced, just a little. Sometimes it sounded like the staged complaints were aimed at one person in particular. Micaiah, who also overheard Hector's jab, apparently didn't like it either.

"I'd be glad to be a model for a sculpture when this is over," she said sweetly, as though Hector were being serious. The young men took this as their cue to praise Micaiah for her silvery beauty- and to pretend to envy Ike for spending seven days in her presence.

Eirika tuned them out, settled back in her seat, and watched out her window as the white dunes of Jehanna flowed into the green lowlands of Grado.

-x-

Field training did give them all a break from the dormitory existence of Star City, comfortable as that routine was in its own way. Visits to Professor Knoll meant a stay in a charming hotel near the university, one with color-themed suites, an generous bar, and five-star service. The maitre d' was always pleased to see such distinguished guests- not least, Eirika thought, because being a hotel patronized by "star sailors" was very good for business.

The maitre d' rattled off a list of the night's specials, then directed an anticipatory smile at the most celebrated guest at his table. When Marth hesitated, the maitre d' swiftly said, "We of course also have a dish of sea scallops with glazed with orange and vanilla, served on a bed of golden rice."

"I'll take that, then," Pilot 001 replied with a picture-perfect flash of the teeth.

Eirika had seen this little routine before. Marth would allow whoever it was trying to impress them- from headwaiters to factory superintendents to foreign ambassadors- lay out the full sweep of whatever wonderful thing was on offer, and then go with whatever would leave the headwaiter/factory superintended/ambassador feeling the most self-satisfied. There was something about it that transgressed being polite in a way that was starting to nettle Eirika.

For one, she never had the sense that Marth actually liked scallops in orange and vanilla sauce, or any of the rest of it. In fact, during the months they had been training as a group, she could not ever remember Pilot 001 state a like or dislike of anything. Not their classes or instructors, not the latest battery of medical and psychological tests, not the fiendishly difficult scenarios thrown their way in flight simulations, and not even the dormitory food. By this point, Eirika was starting to consider it less a matter of courtesy and more a sign of something very strange.

"Don't you have any beef stew?"

That came from Hector, not ever one to be shy about his personal preferences. The maitre d' immediately assured Hector that yes, they could make a most splendid beef stew with red wine and small forest mushrooms...

Once the maitre d' had bustled away with their orders, Pilot 013 had a question of his own.

"All right, why don't they ever have chicken on the menu here?"

"It's considered wrong to eat anything that walks upon two legs in Grado," Eirika said, pleased to have the answer before anyone else.

"They eat duck," Ike replied, leveling an unyielding stare at her across the table.

"Well, but ducks swim."

"And walk. They have feet."

"It's a technicality," Eirika admitted. She didn't know why some ancient priest of Grado had declared the eating of all land birds anathema eight centuries before, she just knew that the ban was inflexible. Even a hero of the space age wasn't going to be served roast chicken in Grado.

"It comes from the days when laguz lived in Magvel."

All heads at the table turned to Micaiah.

"There weren't ever laguz in Magvel," said Ephraim.

"There were herons once, a colony of herons in the great marshes of Grado," Micaiah replied. "In deference to herons, all birds that walked upon two legs were declared safe from the table."

Ephraim shifted uneasily in his chair.

"I don't think that ban caught on anywhere else in Magvel- any more than heron colonists did," he said, and after that they all dropped the highly uncomfortable subject.

-x-

There was, of course, a great deal of alcohol consumed that night- with dinner and afterwards. Cocktails followed the wine, and Eirika found herself clutching her glass tightly to make sure no helpful person refilled it too often. Eliwood and Micaiah were dancing, and Roy and Lyn were dancing, and of course Alm and Cellica were dancing together.

"There's not enough girls here, Ike. We'll have to make do with Celice and Leaf."

Eirika couldn't make out what Ike said in response to Hector, but she suspected it wasn't very nice.

"I'm a girl," she said, and was embarrassed by how high-pitched and giggly she sounded. Hector accepted her offer, closing his tremendous hands around hers and whirling her around. He was surprisingly agile in spite of his great height and width; easily the tallest of all the pilots, he had just barely scraped under the maximum height limit. As Eirika looked up at Hector in her slightly tipsy state, she remembered the story that he'd slept upright all through his admissions tests in hope of compressing his spine enough to pass the physical. She laughed, and Hector laughed with her and lifted her right up in the air, then set her down atop the piano.

"This isn't a duet."

Eirika hopped down from the piano and tittered an apology to Marth, who had been supplying the musical accompaniment for the evening. He didn't seemed particularly offended by the intrusion, at least once Eirika was out of the way, and she hung back for a while watching him play.

Hector, having lost his dance partner, had another idea.

"Hey, Marth! Can you play us 'Together We Ride'?"

Marth's hands paused upon the keys. He glanced up, and a smile flashed across his face for a moment, one wholly unlike the confident expression he wore in photographs.

"Sorry, I don't know any songs for real pilots."

The response, so understated that it was impossible to tell if there was malice in it or not, cut through Eirika's intoxicated haze. She saw her own bemusement reflected in Hector's face. Then Hector laughed and raised an empty glass- someone else's- in Marth's direction before going off in searching of someone else to dance with.

Eirika got herself a pitcher of water and settled down on the sidelines for the remainder of the evening. She didn't like the feeling of losing control, and besides that, there were too many important things... to many important people... that she had to pay attention to...

So Eirika watched as her brother and Ike both left early, watched as Hector and Eliwood walked out carrying Lyn between them, watched as various other pilots paired off around her. In the end, she and Marth were the only ones remaining. He hadn't left the piano all night, and even now he was playing away, banging on the keys with his unruly hair hanging down in his eyes, even though the party had long since dissolved.

She was sober by then, and as Eirika watched him, she wondered if this, perhaps, might be something Marth actually enjoyed. Or was it just a means of fending people away, of isolating himself from the rest of the group? She remembered what the psychologists had supposedly said of Ike. No one's that uncomplicated.

Pilot 001 seemed to be a lot less uncomplicated than legend made him out to be. Eirika wondered what Marth had answered when the Commissioners asked him what he wanted out of life.

To Be Continued...

Author's Notes: Fanfic and fanon in-jokes aside (not to mention space race in-jokes)... the gang is actually pretty well-behaved, given that real life '60s cosmonauts were doing things like picking up fifteen-year-old girls, causing hit-and-run accidents, and engaging in drunken balcony diving. And the US astronauts weren't any angels themselves. Privilege + pressure + lots of free drinks = problems, y'know?