Marginal Life Ch. 02

"You didn't hear me say this. But what can you do, monkeys can't be trusted with delicate mechanica like doors and cargo containers."

I startle a choked laugh from her, shocked at my use of the vulgar term for deck crew. It's generally frowned upon, can't have an us versus them mentality in the crew afterall.

A sideways glance at the wall clock nearly hidden behind shelves of spare parts tells me noon isn't far off.

"How tough is the job, need any help?"

Somewhat wanting her to need me, somewhat wanting freedom to leave. I think she can see my indecision.

"No no, go. You're headed into the city, right?" Must have seen Doc's letter delivered. "This is really only a minor job, I already have most of the parts fixed."

"Alright. I'm sure Sinem has already ripped whoever it was a new orifice, but take our department complaint to her anyway. Let her know the decision to file it is entirely hers. We'll backfill whatever she decides."

"Have one ready to deliver, figured you might say that." She waves towards our desks in the back.

She knows me well.

Guess it's time to get moving then. Deep breath.

"I might not be back today, this could be a long session with Doctor Dreeson. Ah. One last thing before I go. My class has been rescheduled for the day after tomorrow, so I'll need the shop tomorrow to work on this time's batch of toys."

"What? That's great! I know how much you enjoy them!"

With exuberant happiness she sweeps me up in a hug, partially in congratulations, partially as a goodbye.

***

Being asleep during docking left me not knowing exactly where in the giant port we ended up. For anyone unused to the place, it's a bit intimidating. Stepping from the lift in Marge's docking collar, I pause to look around.

Marge herself, the squashed cylindrical body resting on stubby landing legs. Hull plates shining, reflecting light from the huge ceiling lamps. Sinem must have had the crew out scrubbing. Bow and stern cargo bays open, their ramps lowered. Deck crew maneuvering cargo containers here and there, arranging and rearranging the large boxes to make transshipment easier at our next few stops.

The bay itself an enormous rectangular cavern carved from stone, easily large enough to accommodate six ships the size of Marge. Two of the other slots occupied at the moment, with two more marked with the colored flags signifying imminent arrivals. The bay's widest side opens directly to the outside, with giant metal sheets folded into the roof and floor, able to seal the opening in case of weather or attack. The other sides of the bay are dotted with corridors leading deeper inward, to warehouses, other bays, living quarters, and elsewhere.

Giant green numbers painted on the wall give our exact location: 3 - 12. Cryptic sounding, but simple to decode.

The color signifies Green Spire, second largest port in Umira. Airship dock, military base, and trading port. Gateway to the central plains. Built into and through the largest mountain along our northwest coast. One of five such locations, four spaced around the borders and the fifth centrally located, adjacent to the capital. For nearly four hundred years a commanding presence from which to defend Umiran airspace.

The numbers on the wall are easy, kept simple on purpose. The first denoting the third ring of docks moving up from the mountain's base. The twelve, like numbers on a clock, pointing to the northern most bay in the ring.

This far up, I have quite a trip ahead of me. The Doc lives below in Verdantwall, the city stretching from the spire's northwestern side down to the ocean. Fortunately, there are a few shortcuts for those in the know.

A wave slows a nearby cargo loader as it heads towards the largest tunnel.

"Need a ride Mechanic? I'm headed to the Station."

The deep gravelly voice is friendly. Hiding behind an impressive mustache, itself perched atop granite patterned skin.

"Thanks, it's a bit of a long walk."

With a grateful smile, I hop aboard.

***

One hitched ride, one tram ride, and a mile of walking later I finally approach Doc's house. Underground for all but the walk, one blank conduit lined wall looking like every other. The one break in the tedium an apprentice clerk openingly hitting on me during the tram ride. At least until he saw my Chief's tab anyway. I got the impression he saw me as male. I guess I looked available? I'm told my signals can be a bit mixed, to use the polite term. Sinem prefers "fucking confusing." I like "non-judgemental."

This section of Verdantwall, imaginatively named Orange Three, is mostly larger buildings. Upscale homes hiding behind rows of shops that line the rights of way. Brownish brick facades over steel frames, copper roofing chemically treated for a bright green patina. Modern hiding under classic. The occasional patrolling peace officer securing a quiet, comfortable atmosphere. Calming to anyone walking its streets, whispering that nothing bad ever happens here.

Since I feel like stalling anyway, might as well go all out. Let the peace infuse me as I wander. Normally I tend to ignore the scenery, I grew up here afterall. Well, not HERE, here. The state run dormitories for children without family are in a much less affluent neighborhood. Less a feeling of safety, more a sense of living. Similar brick and copper construction though. The samey architecture becomes commonplace after a while. Forgettable. Ignorable. I try to imagine what it would be like to see it for the first time.

I suppose the first thing you would see, the single largest landmark for miles, is the spire itself. Originally just a long dead volcano, centuries of work have transformed it. Six rings of twelve landing bays, carved into the perimeter, running all the way up to the timberline. Above that, where snow and ice live year round, massive open frameworks allow for docking without landing. And towering above even that, built into the ancient caldera itself, looms Vantage Naval Base. Home to 3rd Fleet, the second largest mobile force in the realm.

Everything, from the smallest building to the largest docking frame, sporting green of some sorts. Usually in the form of copper plating treated the same way as the city's roofing tiles. Over the brownish rock of the mountain, from the air the whole spire looks like one giant tree. Aesthetics taken too far, or bribery from copper barons? Either way, a striking image.

Mentally I superimpose a general map of the inner mountain. A massive warren of tunnels and access corridors, entire communities of workers living around the central shaft. Originally part of the volcano's main vent, now cleared, tamed, and built up with massive cargo lifts. Running from Vantage at the peak all the way down to the Station, a massive trainyard leading out and beyond.

Below that, even more impressive from an engineering standpoint, lies one of the largest geothermal plants ever created. Enormous taps siphoning unlimited energy from the dormant magma vents. Steam conduits branching out to every location for miles around. What it must have been like, building it all those years ago. Probably hot, sweaty, and incredibly dangerous. But still. The sheer adventure of it all, creating such a lasting monument. Securing the peace of Umira, leaving us nearly undefeated in naval action to this day.

Pause, take a breath. Don't get too caught up.

After you come to grips with the Spire, the city itself seems almost small. A large sprawling metropolis in its own right, it almost feels lost in the mountain's shadow. Grass growing next to a tree, leading down to nearby water. Well, down to, and into. Can't forget the sizable Leviathan clan living just off shore, their large neighborhoods of houseboats sporting the same green coloration as their terrestrial counterparts. Lilypads next to the grass.

Last, but certainly not least, floating serenely back and forth through the skies: airships. Clouds of metal, in all shapes and sizes, passing in and out regularly. Traders, explorers, diplomats, soldiers, and more.

Which circles my thoughts back to Marge, to myself and my own small part in the world, and my now visible destination.

Doc's house is a sprawling two story edifice behind a row of shops and eateries. High Class snobberies I usually avoid unless starving. Give me a good bar any day. I may not drink, but I enjoy the atmosphere. Food's often better too. I only make one exception. Tucked away in a small space between two larger restaurants is Sevenleaf's. A cozy little smoke parlor run by a married couple, the Brownie husband grows the best smokeweed I've ever had.

The sun almost directly overhead, walking around past the shops I consider just for a minute stopping in for some food. Just a last bit of stalling. This promises to be an intense session, for one reason or another.

But no. Time to face the beast in her den. Raising my hand to knock, the door is flung open. With a welcoming grin the tallest woman I've ever met grabs me, easily slinging my small form through the door and into a smothering hug. Doctor Nadia Dreeson is a very tactile person. It's definitely rubbed off on me over the years, something I can enjoy with friends no matter my state of mind.

At six foot six, she towers over most people, let alone me. Slim, pale, dark haired. Somewhat older than I am, though I have no idea by how much. She was already practicing when I met her fifteen years ago. And wielder of the largest breasts I've ever seen, each one as large as my head.

Of mixed Fae blood, she puts it best herself: "My Daddy was a Naiad and my Momma a Sprite. And when water gets into the air, a Tempest is born." Still the most poetic sex joke I've ever heard.

Fighting for air between her massive pillows, I'm swung around and around, danced through a doorway and into her sitting room. Her coppery red hair in its short pixie cut swirling out like a disturbed flower. Her long loose skirts run accompaniment, flaring out around us, anchored by a fitted bodice doing its best to contain and support her. I suspect steel bracing is involved.

The room itself light, airy, and open, the perfect place to have your head examined. Windows looking out to a fenced in garden full of flowers. Comfortable looking chairs sitting here and there. A fireplace, set and ready to light, next to a well stocked drink cabinet. With a final twirl she alights, setting me down central to the room. Entirely leaving it up to me to choose where to sit.

"Jaya! I've missed you! Have a seat, tell me how you've been!"

Her tone perky, welcoming. Genuinely glad to see me. Her words not so subtle code for "park it and tell me why Marian is screaming for help." Eyeballing a snack table set with a pitcher of iced tea and a plate of finger foods, I plant myself on a couch within easy reach. Taking a deep breath and a cookie, to which she smiles encouragingly, I begin.

"I have to assume Marian already told you a bit of it. I don't know how much she said, but I had an episode. A bad one."

Suddenly nervous, I pause to grab another cookie. She projects an air of patience, allowing me to set my own pace.

"I was working on a project, focusing as you taught me. Keeping it under control. A new type of flight harness, something I've wanted for awhile. It was going well for the most part. But the fire was burning out just before it was done, so I kind of... pushed it. Stoked the flames."

She breaks into my narrative.

"Whoa whoa whoa! Back up! This sounds different than the past. First: fire?"

"When I do your visualization technique, I see myself as a campfire while in an episode."

"And you 'stoked' the flames."

I nod. She seems... I'm not sure. Worried? Concerned? It's hard to tell when she's being professional. Her Naiad talent lets her read physical states, similar to Marian. A strong Sprite Marker allows for an empathic sense. In ancient times it was true telepathy, but similar to Naiads the talent has faded over time. Together her talents are the perfect combination for a therapist, able to reflect just what a patient needs to see and hear. But she almost seems... thrown? Not quite strong enough of an emotion to be called startled.

"It seems things have indeed changed since I last saw you. You're telling me that even under the manic drive of an episode, you still have time to meditate, to run through the visualization?"

"Umm..." not sure why this is a big deal, I'm embarrassed for some reason I can't name. "I don't need to meditate, I've been able to do it instantly for awhile now. I thought that was just how it worked, as you got better at it."

Now she's startled. Why?

"I'm watching you with my Sight. Can you show me?"

Shrugging, I look to my pool. The water seems around half full. The stone of the base is smooth again, having lost its faint design from this morning. Was it part of being with Stefan? A side effect of my episode? Something related to that candle?

"Ok, ok, I believe you. That was amazing, you were just instantly focused inward. It should have taken you years to learn that, if you ever did. Anyway. Back on track. The fire. That you stoked."

Back to embarrassment again. What is it with the whiplash? Is she doing it on purpose? Is she really that rattled? Or is it just me?

"I think the water of the pool becomes wood, the fuel of the fire, as much sense as that makes. I was intent on the work. To be able to truly fly. Soar on my own."

I shiver, remembering the feel of wearing the harness during the test.

"But the episode was ending. Too soon to finish the testing. So I kinda pushed. It made the flames burn higher. Made the focus stronger. It was only for a few minutes. But it was also more... brittle. And it still ran out too soon. I was so tired I crashed. Hard."

Another deep breath, a calming counterpoint to remembering the tests. About to continue when Doc lays down the Law.

"Jaya, listen carefully. I need to make sure this is only said once. When it comes to pushing the 'flames' like that, I want you to do one simple thing." At my nod, she continues, volume impressive. "NEVER DO THAT AGAIN! You could have seriously hurt yourself! And I mean mentally, not just in your crash. People are not mechanica, they're not supposed to be driven that hard! How you avoided permanent damage only Luck knows!"

More upset than I've ever seen her, the point hits hard. And yet... what? Something seems off. It hits me.

"Doc?"

My tone is questioning, awaiting permission to speak like some kid in school. Instantly calming, she motions me to continue.

"I'm not saying I don't believe you. I do. But... does this mean you've found out something relating to me? How do you know for sure what it is, that it's dangerous?"

I'm afraid she'll be mad at me again, but apparently I misread things. She's back to complete calm now, professional once more.

"Manic obsession is not unheard of. Your episodes are just stronger than anything I've ever encountered. It's actually fascinating to hear your description, I don't think I've ever heard of someone being able to focus enough to visualize during it." A sigh. "But therein lies the problem. There's an advanced form of the technique that allows you to control your own mind to a certain extent. I wasn't expecting to ever teach you that part, and you clearly weren't ready."

What? Control yourself? Does that mean what I think it does? How much does it extend? Could I force myself into, or out of, an episode? Could I force myself to be normal? Could I-

SNAP.

I jerk back, Doc's snapping fingers less than an inch from my face.

"No! Stop that! I know how your mind works. I will teach you, when you're ready. You need to know what not to do. But no experimenting! Your mind is not some mechanica to tinker with." About to respond, she rolls right over me. "Yes, we can start today, but only the first step. We'll work on it later this afternoon."

Well. This could change everything. Dare I get my hopes up? I think I do. If the outcome of my episode this time really was my own dumb fault? If I did it to myself, my lack of training a literal playing with fire? If I can learn to avoid doing the same thing? Wow. Just... wow. I can almost feel the weight of worry lifting, much lighter than moments before. And I was afraid of how this session would go. That I would find out I am damaged worse than ever. The difference is... huge.

"Ok, ok." A bit hastily. "I agree actually." Much more accepting now. "You don't give a new apprentice a welding torch or an acid washer. I can accept needing to train."

Her expression one of cautious belief in my statement. So. A deep breath. Time to move on. To my other concern. To my visit. I fidget a bit, not sure how to proceed. As usual underestimating the Doc.

"Time for a break. You're going to eat. To relax. I can feel where you're mind is, what sort of things you wish to discuss. Do the routine. I'll be in the next room. Ring the bell when you're ready."

Pointing to a small hand bell on the snack tray, then breezing through a doorway, gone. Leaving me to myself. A small person in a large room. Munching on crackers.

So, here we are. Deep breath. Like in the other quarters. But at the same time, not. I don't visit the Doc, don't... No. Do it right.

The beginning. What is this about? In a normal session we could skip details, stick with euphemisms. That won't work this time. I need the details. About... About... I focus. About sex.

Calm. Good. No need to strip, illusions or otherwise. Just remember the feelings. Feel what's under the jumpsuit. Accept it. Set the details, the memories.

Short to describe, long to achieve. The tick of an antique clock informs me of an hour passing while I snack and focus. Finally I feel ready. Warm. Not hot, not ready for sex. Just... aware.

I ring the bell.

***

She breezes back in as she left, skirts swishing. A small bag of something in one hand. Waving away my curious look, she sets it behind her chair as she rejoins me.

"Something for later. Maybe. Depends on how you're feeling." I shrug acceptance. "So. Tell me what's on your mind. Be as direct as you can, the practice is good for you. Be clinical if you can't."

Here we go.

"I experienced something... strange. It has me worried." A pause, trying to form my words.

"Why don't you just start at the beginning, work around to it." Calm, accepting.

"Ok. So, yesterday is when I woke from the healing sleep. After ripping me a new one, Marian sent me to see Stefan. We... had sex. Amazing sex. He even triggered me through my pu... my... vagina. With his fingers. We've done that before, but this morning, in the shower, I did it to myself. I've never used my own hands before. Not on myself. It was... easy. But wierd. I was still exhausted from the healing, did that change things somehow? Lower my inhibitions? My resistance?"

At her happy expression I figure it must have been something I did right. Her words are more measured though.

"Jaya, that's wonderful. I like to see you experiencing yourself as you are. But I think you were just in the right frame of mind. There's a lot you can experience that way. I want you to think on it. How did it make you feel, to be in control of your own passion?"

I frown. How did it make me feel? It felt good, but...

"I wasn't even thinking about it, I was concentrating on Stefan. But it felt... good? Like... it was something for me while I gave to Stefan. Reinforcing the experience."

"That's good. It should be a positive experience for you. But I sense there's something else."

Now for the weirdness. Deep breath.

"That wasn't really the strange bit. That was in the shower, before Stefan joined me for... breakfast." An arched eyebrow at my euphemism, despite its technical accuracy.

"I was visualizing my pool. And..." I shiver just remembering it. Quietly now, almost a whisper, afraid of its return. "There was a flame. Like when an episode starts. But different. A candle floating in the pool. I panicked, and Stefan startled me out of it. After that it was gone."