A Dream of the Sky

Owen knew that the Sentinels had mixed feelings about non-combatants being on the walls.

In his fourteen years of life, he'd come to understand what rules he could break, what rules he could bend, and what rules that he should follow. Not leaving Fort Tarsis was a rule he was fine in following, considering that from what he heard, death by being torn apart and digested wasn't the best way to go. Rules such as stealing from the fruit market was one he could get away with, because he was just that good, and no-one had caught onto him in years, so why should he start to worry now? And being on the walls of Fort Tarsis? That was a rule he could bend. He knew that he wasn't technically meant to be here, but there was no actual law against it. So he could walk by the Sentinels, winking at them, daring for them to apprehend him and breach "the laws and trust of the people." He could get within five metres of a Javelin's launch platform, witnessing the power armoured Freelancer undergo final preparations before jetting off to explore the wilderness. To fight the good fight against the Dominion. To shut down or even retrieve the relics of the gods, so that their erstwhile children might live to see another day.

I'll be seeing you out there, he thought to the Freelancer. He couldn't tell who the pilot was, only that they were wearing a Ranger suit, and seemed a bit eager to get away from the techs. One day, I'll be out there too.

The techs gave the Freelancer the thumbs up as they moved back. A moment after that, the Ranger suit was in flight, as if its pilot could barely stand to have their feet on the ground a moment later. Squinting against the early morning sun, Owen followed the suit's trajectory. For now, the pilot was keeping above the tree line. But either through distance or height, the Javelin would be out of sight, if not out of mind.

Go get 'em, he thought to himself, still squinting against the sun's glare. I'll be-

"Hey Owen."

"Gah!"

He jumped, his feet coming off the ground not in flight, but in fear. Or surprise, technically. In the microseconds between leaving the ground and landing back on it, what remained of his rational mind told him that he was in Fort Tarsis – the bastion of all those who called themselves human and free. He had nothing to fear here.

"Faye," he said.

But did he have anything to be aggrieved about?

"I'd say you're as jumpy as a grabbit, but I don't think they could jump as high as you."

Yes. Yes he did.

"That's not funny," he murmured, pushing past her, heading for the stairs that would take him down from the wall.

"Come on, it's a little funny." He didn't have to look back to tell that she was following him.

"No, it isn't." He didn't look back, but he looked sideways towards one of the Sentinels. Behind the warrior's helmet, he could swear the bastard was laughing at him.

Just you wait. I'll be out in the field, while you're stuck here on guard duty, with nothing to do but-

"Owen!"

He didn't exclaim anything this time. Not unless "oof" counted, and his mind was in too many places to decide. His body however, was only in one – on the cold, hard surface of the walls of Fort Tarsis, having bumped into a Sentinel making his (or her, he couldn't tell) way along the wall. He looked up sheepishly, at the walking hunk of metal before him. Looking down on him like an angry god.

"Idiot," the Sentinel murmured.

Owen could tell from the sound of its voice that it was male. Not that it mattered. He quickly got up to one side, letting the knight plod past. He followed the warrior, taking note of the Sentinels standing motionless along the wall.

Yep. Definitely laughing.

He clenched his fist. Even as Faye patted him on the shoulder, it remained as such.

"Won't say I told you so, but-"

"That's a lie and we both know it." He unclenched his fist and turned towards his friend (though "friend" felt like a generous term at times). As angry as he felt, only a portion of it was directed towards her.

"Fine." She smirked. "Guess I will say I told you so."

A fair portion of the anger was directed towards the Sentinels. Those glorified watch dogs who'd never take leave of Fort Tarsis. Would never be the heroes the Freelancers were.

"Told you so, told you, I'm telling you I told you so," Faye sang.

But most of the anger was directed towards himself. For being so clumsy. For letting those bastards get to him. For daring to think-

No. He began to walk down the stairs, this time taking care not to bump into any of the Sentinels or techs that came up it. He couldn't let his anger go that far. He would be a Freelancer one day. It would take time, effort, and far less bumping into Sentinels, but he'd make it.

"Come on Owen," Faye called. She was still following him, much to his chagrin. "When are you going to get this out of your head?"

"Get what out?" He didn't look back. He just kept moving forward.

"The whole Freelancer thing." Faye caught up with him despite his efforts to quicken his pace. "Come on, you can barely keep your feet on the ground, you think you can fly above it?"

"Wow." He came to a stop, folding his arms. Faye was only a few months his senior, but he had the advantage of height. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"I'm serious." She folded her arms as well, and damn it, she was doing the face again. "Freelancers are the best of the best, so…."

"So?" He knew what the answer was, but he couldn't help but ask.

"So…" She unfolded her arms, putting them behind her back and looking down. "You're…not."

The word stung far more than he thought they would. He'd heard them before – from his family, from the scholars of Fort Tarsis, to the mouths of Sentinels and techs alike. But not from Faye. Not in so direct a manner. And she must have seen how hard they stung, because she kept talking.

"And hey, I'm not either," she continued. "But I'm figuring if you want to help the Freelancers, maybe a less…agile, job?"

"What, like a tech?" He began walking again, heading in the opposite direction of the wall. Through the throngs of humanity that called Fort Tarsis home (not that there was an alternative, and no, the Dominion didn't count). "Or a Sentinel? No thanks. I-"

"How about a cypher?"

He slowed his pace, enough for Faye to catch up with him.

"A cypher?" he repeated. He had to shout a bit, as the people all around them were chatting as people did, the noise filling the air as much as their ears. "You think I want to be a cypher?"

"Why not? You get to go out in the field. Get to man a Strider. Get to-"

"No." He stopped, which was a mistake, as a number of people bumped into him. He ignored their curses however – his eyes were focused on Faye's face. How a look of surprise was written all over it.

"Come on," he said. He grabbed her hand and led her through the throngs of humanity. It didn't take them too long to get free, near to the stalls that lined the street. Everything from fruit picked from the jungles of their world, to Scar knives for the "discerning buyer." It allowed them to stand in place without being bumped into.

"That's where I want to be," Owen said, pointing upwards, past the glare beating down on them. "Up there."

"…you want to be in the sun?"

"No, you…" He caught his tongue. Faye was many things, but she wasn't an idiot. "No. I mean the sky. To fly. To…to be where the gods were."

"Owen…" Faye sighed. He knew what she was going to say, so he managed to beat her to it.

"You know what some people say," he said. "That the Shapers came from beyond the sky, not beyond a veil between worlds. That they flew in chariots, mounted on thrones of steel."

"Yes, people say that," Faye said. "And there's some people who say that the Shapers aren't real at all. That the Dominion isn't a threat. That we should try to make peace with the Scars."

Owen frowned. He didn't think that was too bad an idea, but he knew better than to discuss that with Faye. The Scars hadn't shown her father any mercy after all.

"So, what?" she asked. "The Shapers come from beyond the sky, and you think flying around in a power suit is the best way to be close to them?"

"Well, maybe." He paused for breath. "But not close to them, you know? Like, close to…what they were. What they could do." He rubbed his forehead. "I'm sounding like an idiot aren't I?"

"Yes, but don't let that bother you." He watched as she in turn considered her words. "I mean, Javelins can't even fly that high in the first place. And I'd like to think that the Freelancers have better things to do than looking for the gods that screwed the world up."

"They created the world too."

"Yes, and I thank them for that. And for their shoddy job, I curse them." Faye drew herself up straight. "Point is, you're not a Freelancer Owen. And before that bothers you, remember that hardly anyone else is."

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Faye was…he wouldn't say right. Not yet. Hope spawned by dreams hadn't yet been fully eradicated. And yet, she wasn't wrong either.

"Come on," she said, taking his hand. "You look hungry."

"I do?" He didn't think he did.

"Alright, another lie. But of the things you are good at, nicking fruit is among them."

"You trying to make me feel better?"

"Yes." She smiled sheepishly. "Is it working?"

He shrugged. The answer was that it was. But that was truth he could keep to himself.

"Alright, let's go. Cignall's got one eye, so he's our best target."

At least for now.