157 lines
7.4 KiB
Plaintext
157 lines
7.4 KiB
Plaintext
Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!spool.mu.edu!torn!news.ccs.queensu.ca!qlink!3el3
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From: 3el3@qlink.queensu.ca (Leung Edwin)
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Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
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Subject: FICTION : Jump Start (1/1)
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Date: 3 Jan 1995 17:20:31 GMT
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Organization: Queen's University, Kingston
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Lines: 143
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Message-ID: <3ec10v$rne@knot.queensu.ca>
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NNTP-Posting-Host: qlink.queensu.ca
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X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.2 PL2]
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Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:4116
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I wrote this a couple of years ago for a Star Trek fanzine at Queen's U.
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It was never published (the fanzine), for various reasons, none of which
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involved my having submitted this story, I feel sure. Even though it
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does have Wesley Crusher in it.
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Anyway, read it, see what you think; enjoy it, hate it, throw rancid
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potato peelings at the screen, whatever. Operators are standing by. I
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think I need some sleep now.
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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JUMP START by Cameron Dixon
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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This was not a good idea, Wes Crusher thought to himself as he studied
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the ground far below. Far too far below, if you wanted his opinion; but
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what was his opinion good for anyway, if it had brought him up here in
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the first place? If all your friends wanted to jump off a cliff, Wes,
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what would you do?
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"I really don't want to do this."
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"Come on, Crusher," the young man behind him insisted. "We're all in
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this together, we agreed. One for all, and you were all for it just a
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minute ago."
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"Yeah, well, that was down there, Tessler." The wind ruffled his hair as
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he stared down at the distant white X on the ground. The field generator
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was a small black dot at the centre of the cross, barely visible. Which
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meant either that the generator was far too far down or far, far too
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small. Or both.
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Part of Wesley's mind which never really switched off took a split second
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to calculate the exact distance to the ground in nanometres and how long
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it would take him to fall.
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I really don't want to do this.
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He took a step back from the edge of the platform. Another of the stu-
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dents shrugged and took his place. Wesley watched and swallowed as she
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spread her arms and stepped off into space. Within seconds she was
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gone. If she'd paused to think before jumping, he hadn't seen.
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The other students watched as she fell.
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Not so hard, was it? Tessler looked at Wesley, silently inviting him to
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return to his rightful place at the edge. The young man grinned ner-
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vously and accepted.
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And paused at the edge again, looking down. It really was much too far
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when you looked at it from this perspective.
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Behind him, Tessler sighed and winked at the other students. "Of course
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he doesn't have to *prove* anything to us, does he?" he said, just loud
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enough for Wesley to hear. But Wesley wasn't listening. The platform
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seemed to sway beneath his feet. Just one step forward...
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"I guess he really doesn't want to jump. What do you say, Wes?" Tessler
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walked right up to the edge with him, and draped a friendly arm over his
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shoulder. "We'll understand if you don't want to go through with it."
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He turned back to the others again. "Won't we?"
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Wesley closed his eyes. Be honest, he'd let the others talk him into
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this. It hadn't been easy being kept back a year; all his friends had
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moved on, but that was the least of it, because he hadn't had many
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friends. Not after what had happened to Josh. And now even those who
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had understood had moved on ahead to their final years, and he was stuck
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in the same old classes with the sub-cadets. The same classes he'd so
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nearly passed with flying colours.
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Passed with flying colours...now there was a phrase he'd never use again
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without shivering. His arm still hurt when he moved too abruptly, a con-
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stant reminder of the flame that had filled his shuttle as the control
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panels exploded. He'd escaped, but he'd escaped into a world where some-
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body else hadn't. And he would always share the blame.
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He'd grown moody over the last year. And the assignments and test
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flights didn't help to take his mind off things; on the contrary, he'd
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done them all before, and doing them again was yet another reminder of
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his punishment. His guilt.
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But as far down as he had fallen, there had still been a part of him that
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desperately wanted back up again, and when Tessler had found out that
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Wesley had the day off and had made this offer, he'd jumped at the chance
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to come along, maybe to make friends--new friends, a fresh start.
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But it was really a long way down.
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"Don't worry, I'm going," he said. But he didn't even convince himself,
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and he knew then that he wasn't going to jump after all.
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Tessler sighed. "Crusher, Crusher, what are we going to do with you?"
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He patted Wesley gently on the back.
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And then stepped off the platform, pulling Wesley with him.
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Wesley gasped, shocked out of silence. Tessler laughed and pushed away,
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falling, but not with him; no, Wesley was doing that all on his own,
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thank you. For a moment his arms spun as he desperately tried to regain
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his balance...but it was too late, and he fell.
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Free fall into nothing.
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The ground was rushing at his head, and for some reason he was suddenly
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perfectly calm. That was it. The decision was no longer his. But at
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least someone else was falling with him. And if he was on his way, he
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was damn well going to go in style. It was the least to be expected from
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any man (yes, *man*) who had served under Captain Jean-Luc Picard.
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He closed his eyes. Stretched out his arms. And let gravity take over.
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Nothing connected. Just Wesley, floating serenely in the middle of the
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air. And the ground rushing up to meet him at top speed.
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Nine point six metres per second per second, wasn't it? His stomach yawed
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wildly in weightlessness. He reveled in the feeling and a sudden smile
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broke out across his face. Tessler saw it and laughed with delight.
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And then, as they'd both known, intellectually, that it would, the field
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generator in the middle of the cross sensed their approach and kicked
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in. A buoyant force pushed gently against their bodies. It was like
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drifting, or falling into a sea of invisible foam. Their descent began
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to slow, and by the time Wes reached the ground he was almost floating.
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They touched down like angels returning to Earth.
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The cadet who'd fallen before them was lying on the ground to one side of
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the target, shaking with exalted laughter. Wesley took a moment to catch
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his breath and then let out a whoop louder than anything he'd shouted for
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the last two years.
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"Not bad, was it, Crusher?" Tessler grinned and threw a companionable
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arm about his shoulders. The two cadets staggered off the landing mark
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laughing like idiots. But not like idiots at all. Like two men who have
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taken the plunge and survived.
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The next day, somebody with a flair for electronics reprogrammed the food
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dispenser in the commissary so that when Tessler requested his dinner it
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sprayed custard all over his fresh uniform. But he didn't really mind.
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After all, that was what friends were for.
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------------------------------------END------------------------------------
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Cameron Dixon, "Lemming Wrangler to the Stars"
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-- Potato peelings are our friends. --
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