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More fic
I haven't much been in the mood for writing the past few days, but I managed to get back into it today, to start out the Episode I-era segment of A Small Thing. This one probably has some dubious pseudo-technology, but plotwise, I think it's going in the right direction. :) This will be the last post this week; we're going camping for the weekend, but assuming I'm not too grumpy when we get back, I'll have something up by Monday or so. I'm planning on setting myself at an aggressive pace in the hopes that it'll improve my writing discipline. We'll see...
The day began normally enough. Anakin was sitting in class, feeling fidgety, as the teacher explained the procedure for making simple emergency repairs during space travel. He probably could have taught this lesson himself. Most pilots didn't bother to learn much about how ships worked, figuring they'd have an Artoo unit or a few mechanics on board, which was all very well, but what if they didn't? Besides, the workings of starships were so interesting.
Partway through the lesson, things suddenly got a bit more interesting. Something beeped on the teacher's data console, and she paused, frowning, to read whatever had appeared on it. Anakin could tell by the way her face changed that she had seen something bad, but then she put a smile over it, swept back her gray hair, and went on with the lesson. A few of the students murmured, trying to guess what was going on, but the teacher gave them that stern look, and they quieted down until the lesson was over.
If they had all been Anakin's age, they probably would have crowded the teacher afterwards, wanting to know what was going on. But most of them were teenagers, and they were always trying not to look too eager or curious about anything. They filed out of the classroom, pretending to be casual. They would probably be rushing to the newsfeed console in the student foyer. Anakin stayed.
“Mistress Surali, what's happening?” he said.
This teacher had known Anakin long enough to learn that she didn't need to talk to him like a little boy. Very seriously she said, “It's the Trade Federation. They've been threatening a blockade for months, but it's finally happened. Their ships arrived a few hours ago. Naboo is surrounded.”
This was definitely something bad, though Anakin didn't understand all the details of it. “Are they going to hurt us?” he asked straight out.
“Oh, I don't know about that,” Mistress Surali said quickly, though he could see the worry lines tight on her face. “The Galactic Senate should be able to resolve the matter. I don't think anyone will need to resort to violence.”
Anakin wasn't so sure about that. Everyone on Naboo seemed to think fighting was always bad. And they were usually right. He hated getting into fights with anyone. But if someone attacked you, shouldn't you defend yourself? “What can we do about it?”
“What can we do? Nothing, I'm afraid. But I'm sure the queen and her advisors are doing all they can.”
There was that twinge along his back that Anakin always felt when someone mentioned the new queen. He was pretty sure it was Padmé, but everybody called her Amidala, and in the newsfeeds, she looked different. He'd have to meet her to be sure, but that probably wouldn't happen. A pilot-in-training, going to visit the queen of Naboo? He might as well still be a slave on Tatooine.
“Anakin?”
He looked back to Mistress Surali, who was smiling like she always did when his mind was wandering. “Sorry,” he said. “Are you sure there's nothing we can do to help the queen?”
“Keep studying, and become the best pilot you can,” his teacher said cheerfully. “Naboo is always in need of good pilots.”
Anakin wasn't satisfied, but he could see that arguing wouldn't do much good now.
“So, how about that special project you were working on?” Mistress Surali said, probably thinking she could distract him.
He shrugged. “I haven't been able to test it on a real ship yet, but it's worked on all my test models.”
“Did you try those modifications I suggested?”
“Yes. I think they made a big difference. Still...I can't be sure until we try it on an actual ship.” In spite of himself he was getting excited about it, letting thoughts of the blockade and the queen slip back a little.
“Why don't we try it now?” Mistress Surali said, her eyes sparkling excitedly. “You have time before your next class, don't you?”
He grinned. “Sure! I don't have anything until after lunch.”
It seemed to take mere moments to hurry home, find his project amid the mess in his room, shout out a hurried explanation to Mom, and get back to the school. Mistress Surali was waiting for him in the hanger. She had already opened the casing of the generator on one of the school's ships.
Anakin came to join her and ran his hand wistfully along the sleek, shining metal of the ship, his skin tingling at the cool touch.
The corners of his teacher's eyes crinkled in sympathy. “Don't worry, Anakin. You'll be flying one before you know it.”
“I could do it now,” he said. “I know I could.”
“I know it too,” she smiled, “but it's not for me to decide. Give it a little time. The qualifying tests are in another month. You could pass them with your eyes closed.” She laughed. “But keep your eyes open anyway. Just in case.” Then she nodded toward the generator. “Now, let's get to work. If you graduate from pilot school as quickly as I think you will, you could probably fit in an entire separate course in engineering.”
Anakin thought to himself that he probably already knew everything they would teach in such a course, but he just smiled.
“This is really extraordinary.” Mistress Surali took his project gingerly into her hands and examined it. “How did you put this together?”
“Spare parts.” Sheepishly he added, “It took ten tries to get it right. The first time, it exploded.”
“You had an explosion in your house?” she asked, frowning.
“A small explosion. More like...a really fast burning fire.”
His teacher shook her head. “You have a long-suffering mother, that's for sure. Help me fit it in here.”
“It should go right about....” He found the place in the generator, which was much bigger and more impressive than the models he had been working with. “There. So it can connect to the power source.”
“And what about these?” Mistress Surali wondered, holding up the wires on the opposite end.
“Those connect to the sensors,” he said, gesturing to the core of his project. “It's very important. “If they're aren't triggered, nothing will work.”
“I see.” She fiddled with the wires for a moment, then looked at him. She was actually embarrassed. “My hands aren't as steady as they used to be. Could you...? Oh. You're going to need something to stand on.”
Anakin was used to that. He found a laddered platform against the hanger wall and brought it over so he could reach the generator, and hooked up the remaining wires. “That should do it.”
Mistress Surali beamed. “Shall we try it out?”
He hopped down the ladder. “Just flick the test switch. It'll simulate an attack on the generator.”
“Oh, no,” his teacher said, shaking her head. “We'll need to do something more aggressive than a simulation. She walked to a locked box on the hanger wall, punched some numbers into the keypad, and the box opened up to reveal three gleaming blasters.
Anakin's eyes widened. “You're going to shoot the ship?”
“It's the only way to be sure.” Mistress Surali took up one of the blasters and locked the box again. It seemed so small and innocent resting there in her hand. Anakin looked to the beautiful shining ship and scowled.
“If it doesn't work, you'll wreck the ship.”
“Minimal damage,” she shrugged. “It's only a hand blaster. And I'll pay to repair the damages myself. You see how much I trust your workmanship, Anakin.”
He swallowed. He wasn't that confident about his own work.
“All right. Stand back.” Anakin hurried off to a safe distance while Mistress Surali reached into the cockpit and powered up the ship. Then she positioned herself a few meters away from the ship, aiming the weapon at the generator. Anakin's hands bunched up into nervous fists.
She fired once. Nothing. Two, three, then four times, and the generator's warning light came on, meaning that one more hit would shut it down --
And Anakin's little mechanism sprang into action, providing a backup generator that couldn't be targeted because it didn't work from any single location. Instead, it sent out copies of its program throughout the ship, each doing a part of the generator's work. The ship remained undamaged throughout the rest of Mistress Surali's repeated blaster attacks.
She lowered the weapon with a look of sheer awe. “You did it, Anakin,” she said quietly. “It works.”
He grinned, reddening a little. “I hoped it would.”
“Do you realize what this means? This makes a ship's shields virtually invulnerable.”
“Well, not exactly,” Anakin warned her. “If a ship gets hit hard enough, the shields will give out no matter how many backup programs there are.”
“Still.” Her eyes were on the mechanism resting snugly in the generator. “It will give the pilot time to escape an attack. Time to make repairs, and rest.” She was suddenly full of energy, like she was young again. “Anakin, I want to offer this invention to be used in the palace hanger.”
“Invention?” he repeated, bewildered. “I'm not the first person to ever think of this. Am I?” Then the meaning of the rest of her words came rushing along. “Wait. Did you say the palace hanger? Do you mean the queen's ships?”
Mistress Surali smiled. “You wanted a way to help the queen. I think we just found it.”
The day began normally enough. Anakin was sitting in class, feeling fidgety, as the teacher explained the procedure for making simple emergency repairs during space travel. He probably could have taught this lesson himself. Most pilots didn't bother to learn much about how ships worked, figuring they'd have an Artoo unit or a few mechanics on board, which was all very well, but what if they didn't? Besides, the workings of starships were so interesting.
Partway through the lesson, things suddenly got a bit more interesting. Something beeped on the teacher's data console, and she paused, frowning, to read whatever had appeared on it. Anakin could tell by the way her face changed that she had seen something bad, but then she put a smile over it, swept back her gray hair, and went on with the lesson. A few of the students murmured, trying to guess what was going on, but the teacher gave them that stern look, and they quieted down until the lesson was over.
If they had all been Anakin's age, they probably would have crowded the teacher afterwards, wanting to know what was going on. But most of them were teenagers, and they were always trying not to look too eager or curious about anything. They filed out of the classroom, pretending to be casual. They would probably be rushing to the newsfeed console in the student foyer. Anakin stayed.
“Mistress Surali, what's happening?” he said.
This teacher had known Anakin long enough to learn that she didn't need to talk to him like a little boy. Very seriously she said, “It's the Trade Federation. They've been threatening a blockade for months, but it's finally happened. Their ships arrived a few hours ago. Naboo is surrounded.”
This was definitely something bad, though Anakin didn't understand all the details of it. “Are they going to hurt us?” he asked straight out.
“Oh, I don't know about that,” Mistress Surali said quickly, though he could see the worry lines tight on her face. “The Galactic Senate should be able to resolve the matter. I don't think anyone will need to resort to violence.”
Anakin wasn't so sure about that. Everyone on Naboo seemed to think fighting was always bad. And they were usually right. He hated getting into fights with anyone. But if someone attacked you, shouldn't you defend yourself? “What can we do about it?”
“What can we do? Nothing, I'm afraid. But I'm sure the queen and her advisors are doing all they can.”
There was that twinge along his back that Anakin always felt when someone mentioned the new queen. He was pretty sure it was Padmé, but everybody called her Amidala, and in the newsfeeds, she looked different. He'd have to meet her to be sure, but that probably wouldn't happen. A pilot-in-training, going to visit the queen of Naboo? He might as well still be a slave on Tatooine.
“Anakin?”
He looked back to Mistress Surali, who was smiling like she always did when his mind was wandering. “Sorry,” he said. “Are you sure there's nothing we can do to help the queen?”
“Keep studying, and become the best pilot you can,” his teacher said cheerfully. “Naboo is always in need of good pilots.”
Anakin wasn't satisfied, but he could see that arguing wouldn't do much good now.
“So, how about that special project you were working on?” Mistress Surali said, probably thinking she could distract him.
He shrugged. “I haven't been able to test it on a real ship yet, but it's worked on all my test models.”
“Did you try those modifications I suggested?”
“Yes. I think they made a big difference. Still...I can't be sure until we try it on an actual ship.” In spite of himself he was getting excited about it, letting thoughts of the blockade and the queen slip back a little.
“Why don't we try it now?” Mistress Surali said, her eyes sparkling excitedly. “You have time before your next class, don't you?”
He grinned. “Sure! I don't have anything until after lunch.”
It seemed to take mere moments to hurry home, find his project amid the mess in his room, shout out a hurried explanation to Mom, and get back to the school. Mistress Surali was waiting for him in the hanger. She had already opened the casing of the generator on one of the school's ships.
Anakin came to join her and ran his hand wistfully along the sleek, shining metal of the ship, his skin tingling at the cool touch.
The corners of his teacher's eyes crinkled in sympathy. “Don't worry, Anakin. You'll be flying one before you know it.”
“I could do it now,” he said. “I know I could.”
“I know it too,” she smiled, “but it's not for me to decide. Give it a little time. The qualifying tests are in another month. You could pass them with your eyes closed.” She laughed. “But keep your eyes open anyway. Just in case.” Then she nodded toward the generator. “Now, let's get to work. If you graduate from pilot school as quickly as I think you will, you could probably fit in an entire separate course in engineering.”
Anakin thought to himself that he probably already knew everything they would teach in such a course, but he just smiled.
“This is really extraordinary.” Mistress Surali took his project gingerly into her hands and examined it. “How did you put this together?”
“Spare parts.” Sheepishly he added, “It took ten tries to get it right. The first time, it exploded.”
“You had an explosion in your house?” she asked, frowning.
“A small explosion. More like...a really fast burning fire.”
His teacher shook her head. “You have a long-suffering mother, that's for sure. Help me fit it in here.”
“It should go right about....” He found the place in the generator, which was much bigger and more impressive than the models he had been working with. “There. So it can connect to the power source.”
“And what about these?” Mistress Surali wondered, holding up the wires on the opposite end.
“Those connect to the sensors,” he said, gesturing to the core of his project. “It's very important. “If they're aren't triggered, nothing will work.”
“I see.” She fiddled with the wires for a moment, then looked at him. She was actually embarrassed. “My hands aren't as steady as they used to be. Could you...? Oh. You're going to need something to stand on.”
Anakin was used to that. He found a laddered platform against the hanger wall and brought it over so he could reach the generator, and hooked up the remaining wires. “That should do it.”
Mistress Surali beamed. “Shall we try it out?”
He hopped down the ladder. “Just flick the test switch. It'll simulate an attack on the generator.”
“Oh, no,” his teacher said, shaking her head. “We'll need to do something more aggressive than a simulation. She walked to a locked box on the hanger wall, punched some numbers into the keypad, and the box opened up to reveal three gleaming blasters.
Anakin's eyes widened. “You're going to shoot the ship?”
“It's the only way to be sure.” Mistress Surali took up one of the blasters and locked the box again. It seemed so small and innocent resting there in her hand. Anakin looked to the beautiful shining ship and scowled.
“If it doesn't work, you'll wreck the ship.”
“Minimal damage,” she shrugged. “It's only a hand blaster. And I'll pay to repair the damages myself. You see how much I trust your workmanship, Anakin.”
He swallowed. He wasn't that confident about his own work.
“All right. Stand back.” Anakin hurried off to a safe distance while Mistress Surali reached into the cockpit and powered up the ship. Then she positioned herself a few meters away from the ship, aiming the weapon at the generator. Anakin's hands bunched up into nervous fists.
She fired once. Nothing. Two, three, then four times, and the generator's warning light came on, meaning that one more hit would shut it down --
And Anakin's little mechanism sprang into action, providing a backup generator that couldn't be targeted because it didn't work from any single location. Instead, it sent out copies of its program throughout the ship, each doing a part of the generator's work. The ship remained undamaged throughout the rest of Mistress Surali's repeated blaster attacks.
She lowered the weapon with a look of sheer awe. “You did it, Anakin,” she said quietly. “It works.”
He grinned, reddening a little. “I hoped it would.”
“Do you realize what this means? This makes a ship's shields virtually invulnerable.”
“Well, not exactly,” Anakin warned her. “If a ship gets hit hard enough, the shields will give out no matter how many backup programs there are.”
“Still.” Her eyes were on the mechanism resting snugly in the generator. “It will give the pilot time to escape an attack. Time to make repairs, and rest.” She was suddenly full of energy, like she was young again. “Anakin, I want to offer this invention to be used in the palace hanger.”
“Invention?” he repeated, bewildered. “I'm not the first person to ever think of this. Am I?” Then the meaning of the rest of her words came rushing along. “Wait. Did you say the palace hanger? Do you mean the queen's ships?”
Mistress Surali smiled. “You wanted a way to help the queen. I think we just found it.”
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I hope you have a good time camping this weekend.