hm_yrie (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} hm_yrie) wrote,@ 2008-01-12 16:19:00 |
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Pomp & Circumstance
Note: I was assigned “Defying Gravity” from Wicked. The lyrics can be found here: http://www.allmusicals.com/lyrics/wicke
Featuring Janson and Cheriss
Disclaimer: Still own nothing.
The graduation hat wasn’t what she expected. When they told her she’d have to wear something special for her graduation, she’d searched the holonet for holographs to get some idea as to what she might have to purchase. Most of the holos she found had shown people wearing odd hats that had a large, flat top. Although she'd thought those hats looked strange, they didn’t look anything like the hat she’d been given.
“I have a few Ewok jokes,” Janson remarked from where he was hanging upside down on the lone chair in the room. He frowned at his datapad. “Graduation speech appropriate? Yes or no?”
Cheriss ke Hanadi paused, her hat in her hands. “I’m not familiar with your Academy’s graduation practices, but I would assume that Ewok jokes wouldn’t be appropriate.” She turned back to the mirror and placed the hat on her head. “Major Janson? Why are you speaking at graduation?”
She hadn’t realized that famous pilots would take the time to address a bunch of students on their graduation day. She’d assumed graduation would just be one more lecture by her instructors, and then they’d all be released to the menial tasks the New Republic had assigned to them. So when Janson had showed up at her door asking for her to listen to his speech, she was surprised to say the least.
Then she’d heard his speech, and told him he could not, under any circumstances, give that speech to her class. Janson was entertaining, but she didn’t think that fifteen minutes of jokes was really appropriate. Part of her was pretty sure he was purposely trying to do a bad job so he didn’t have to do it again. When she’d told Janson this, his response was to frown, produce a datapad, and begin asking what parts needed to be fixed. Which was how they came to the current conversation.
“Well, Wedge talked two years ago, Tycho talked last year…my turn came up. I can only hope that next year Hobbie has to talk,” Janson answered her earlier question. “Although I want to know why Pash Cracken never has to talk. I have this theory that they’re all scared of his dad, but Wedge insists I’m imagining things.” There was a thump and through the mirror Cheriss could see Janson roll off the chair and get to his feet. “So, have you gotten your first assignment yet?”
She hesitated. The assignment the New Republic had sent her was on a datacard in her bag. Nestled beside it was a second datacard from the palace in Cartann. One datacard held fame and glory…and the other held a babysitting duty for a communications center in the middle of nowhere. “They were handed out yesterday.”
“So what did you get stuck with?” Janson asked, picking up his datapad and pulling up his speech. Stuck with. Very appropriate words. When she’d imagined her future career – the career she’d wanted since she was a child – she didn’t see herself hanging around in a sector of space far from the action. No Adumari would ever find honor in that.
“It depends.” Cheriss removed her hat and set it on the top of the dresser. She saw the look on Janson’s face and sighed. “The New Republic assigned me to the Outer Rim.” She picked up the bag and produced the two datacards. “But last week, I was offered a position at home, as an advisor to the perator.”
Janson arched an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t exactly welcome back home.” That was an understatement. When she left, it was because she didn’t have anyplace else to go. What a difference a few years could make.
“Well, Adumar joining the New Republic and my being the first of our people to graduate from your pilot academy have changed the situation. I have gained great honor.”
“So basically, you could go back home and be adored by everyone as a pilot,” Janson summarized. “Everything you’ve always wanted.”
“I know.” And it was. Everything she’d grown up longing for, that she’d been willing to do anything for…and there it was, just a few feet away. All she had to do was accept…
He set down the datapad. “So what’s the problem?”
“I don’t know.” Cheriss climbed onto her bunk and pulled her legs up under her. “It’s like, all of my life, there have been these standards or rules - the Adumari Guide to Life – and I couldn’t ever get close to meeting all of them. Not being able to fly, not coming from a long line of pilots…it just grounds you really fast. So I spent all this time imagining what it could be like if I was able to meet all the requirements to be truly loved – worshiped even - on Adumar.” She played with the edge of her blanket, then looked up. Janson was watching her closely, and she sighed. “But then I came here. You and Major Klivian, and Colonel Celchu, and General Antilles…all of you went through a lot to get me admitted here. I’ve spent the past two years learning and absorbing what’s taught here. If more people from Adumar came here, if they started bringing the culture home, maybe someday things would change.”
“So you’re going to take the position at home,” Janson summarized.
“The position would put me into a place that was revered in old Adumar. I’m not sure I could fight it – the influence of the position. I'd backslide. And taking it would be like…like I’m accepting that they do things wrong there. I’ll be validating what they do. But you – all four of you – you wouldn’t validate them. You stopped wearing our clothing and wore your dress uniforms. You stopped trying to act like we did. You changed things.” She climbed from her bed and picked up both datacards, weighing them in her hands.
Time to trust her gut. She dropped one of the datacards on the floor and, shutting her eyes, brought the heel of her boot down on it. Hard. Under her foot, she felt the plastic and metal give way.
Janson continued to watch wearing an amused look. Of course, Janson always wore an amused look and it was hard to tell what was actually going on in his mind underneath it.
Ignoring him, Cheriss picked up his datapad, removed the datacard containing his speech, and inserted her remaining datacard into it. She chewed on her upper lip as she scrolled through the document until she found what she was looking for. She signed her name, then removed her datacard and passed the datapad back to Janson.
“There’s a New Republic crest on that datacard you just signed,” he remarked.
She nodded. “There are going to be other pilots who train in your academies. They’re going to have this choice too. I want them to know they can choose to do what they have to do so someone, somewhere, doesn’t have to feel pain…even if that means giving up honor at home.”
“You do know that you’ll really be cutting yourself off from Adumar now. That was your second chance.” He looked at the shattered pieces of the datacard on her floor.
“I know.” Cheriss walked over to her dresser and picked up her hat. It really was an odd looking hat. She had a sinking feeling it probably matched her New Republic dress uniform. “But that second chance cost a little too much.”
Janson shook his head. “Don’t ever tell Wedge.”
Cheriss turned to look at him. “Tell Wedge what?”
“That you grew up this fast in the academy,” Janson elaborated. “He might try to make me go.”
Cheriss gave him a wry look and pointed at his datapad. “So, have you decided what serious topic you’re going to talk about?”
“Yeah. I had a back-up plan in case my good idea was shot down. I’ll focus on the different types of pilots and my predictions for each type, instead. You know, like the hotshot who flares out too fast, the squadron heart who holds the group together, the silent leader who would do anything for his pilots…” Janson grinned. “I’m going for something that won’t embarrass Wedge too much.”
“He’ll appreciate it.” Cheriss put her hat on her head, then turned back to Janson, who had already returned to his speech writing. “Major Janson? Which type am I?”
“I’m sorry?” He looked up from his datapad.
“Your types of pilots. Which type am I?”
He grinned. “You? You’re the type that, despite everything working against her to hold her down, still manages to defy gravity.”
</cut>
Note: I was assigned “Defying Gravity” from Wicked. The lyrics can be found here: http://www.allmusicals.com/lyrics/wicke
Featuring Janson and Cheriss
Disclaimer: Still own nothing.
The graduation hat wasn’t what she expected. When they told her she’d have to wear something special for her graduation, she’d searched the holonet for holographs to get some idea as to what she might have to purchase. Most of the holos she found had shown people wearing odd hats that had a large, flat top. Although she'd thought those hats looked strange, they didn’t look anything like the hat she’d been given.
“I have a few Ewok jokes,” Janson remarked from where he was hanging upside down on the lone chair in the room. He frowned at his datapad. “Graduation speech appropriate? Yes or no?”
Cheriss ke Hanadi paused, her hat in her hands. “I’m not familiar with your Academy’s graduation practices, but I would assume that Ewok jokes wouldn’t be appropriate.” She turned back to the mirror and placed the hat on her head. “Major Janson? Why are you speaking at graduation?”
She hadn’t realized that famous pilots would take the time to address a bunch of students on their graduation day. She’d assumed graduation would just be one more lecture by her instructors, and then they’d all be released to the menial tasks the New Republic had assigned to them. So when Janson had showed up at her door asking for her to listen to his speech, she was surprised to say the least.
Then she’d heard his speech, and told him he could not, under any circumstances, give that speech to her class. Janson was entertaining, but she didn’t think that fifteen minutes of jokes was really appropriate. Part of her was pretty sure he was purposely trying to do a bad job so he didn’t have to do it again. When she’d told Janson this, his response was to frown, produce a datapad, and begin asking what parts needed to be fixed. Which was how they came to the current conversation.
“Well, Wedge talked two years ago, Tycho talked last year…my turn came up. I can only hope that next year Hobbie has to talk,” Janson answered her earlier question. “Although I want to know why Pash Cracken never has to talk. I have this theory that they’re all scared of his dad, but Wedge insists I’m imagining things.” There was a thump and through the mirror Cheriss could see Janson roll off the chair and get to his feet. “So, have you gotten your first assignment yet?”
She hesitated. The assignment the New Republic had sent her was on a datacard in her bag. Nestled beside it was a second datacard from the palace in Cartann. One datacard held fame and glory…and the other held a babysitting duty for a communications center in the middle of nowhere. “They were handed out yesterday.”
“So what did you get stuck with?” Janson asked, picking up his datapad and pulling up his speech. Stuck with. Very appropriate words. When she’d imagined her future career – the career she’d wanted since she was a child – she didn’t see herself hanging around in a sector of space far from the action. No Adumari would ever find honor in that.
“It depends.” Cheriss removed her hat and set it on the top of the dresser. She saw the look on Janson’s face and sighed. “The New Republic assigned me to the Outer Rim.” She picked up the bag and produced the two datacards. “But last week, I was offered a position at home, as an advisor to the perator.”
Janson arched an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t exactly welcome back home.” That was an understatement. When she left, it was because she didn’t have anyplace else to go. What a difference a few years could make.
“Well, Adumar joining the New Republic and my being the first of our people to graduate from your pilot academy have changed the situation. I have gained great honor.”
“So basically, you could go back home and be adored by everyone as a pilot,” Janson summarized. “Everything you’ve always wanted.”
“I know.” And it was. Everything she’d grown up longing for, that she’d been willing to do anything for…and there it was, just a few feet away. All she had to do was accept…
He set down the datapad. “So what’s the problem?”
“I don’t know.” Cheriss climbed onto her bunk and pulled her legs up under her. “It’s like, all of my life, there have been these standards or rules - the Adumari Guide to Life – and I couldn’t ever get close to meeting all of them. Not being able to fly, not coming from a long line of pilots…it just grounds you really fast. So I spent all this time imagining what it could be like if I was able to meet all the requirements to be truly loved – worshiped even - on Adumar.” She played with the edge of her blanket, then looked up. Janson was watching her closely, and she sighed. “But then I came here. You and Major Klivian, and Colonel Celchu, and General Antilles…all of you went through a lot to get me admitted here. I’ve spent the past two years learning and absorbing what’s taught here. If more people from Adumar came here, if they started bringing the culture home, maybe someday things would change.”
“So you’re going to take the position at home,” Janson summarized.
“The position would put me into a place that was revered in old Adumar. I’m not sure I could fight it – the influence of the position. I'd backslide. And taking it would be like…like I’m accepting that they do things wrong there. I’ll be validating what they do. But you – all four of you – you wouldn’t validate them. You stopped wearing our clothing and wore your dress uniforms. You stopped trying to act like we did. You changed things.” She climbed from her bed and picked up both datacards, weighing them in her hands.
Time to trust her gut. She dropped one of the datacards on the floor and, shutting her eyes, brought the heel of her boot down on it. Hard. Under her foot, she felt the plastic and metal give way.
Janson continued to watch wearing an amused look. Of course, Janson always wore an amused look and it was hard to tell what was actually going on in his mind underneath it.
Ignoring him, Cheriss picked up his datapad, removed the datacard containing his speech, and inserted her remaining datacard into it. She chewed on her upper lip as she scrolled through the document until she found what she was looking for. She signed her name, then removed her datacard and passed the datapad back to Janson.
“There’s a New Republic crest on that datacard you just signed,” he remarked.
She nodded. “There are going to be other pilots who train in your academies. They’re going to have this choice too. I want them to know they can choose to do what they have to do so someone, somewhere, doesn’t have to feel pain…even if that means giving up honor at home.”
“You do know that you’ll really be cutting yourself off from Adumar now. That was your second chance.” He looked at the shattered pieces of the datacard on her floor.
“I know.” Cheriss walked over to her dresser and picked up her hat. It really was an odd looking hat. She had a sinking feeling it probably matched her New Republic dress uniform. “But that second chance cost a little too much.”
Janson shook his head. “Don’t ever tell Wedge.”
Cheriss turned to look at him. “Tell Wedge what?”
“That you grew up this fast in the academy,” Janson elaborated. “He might try to make me go.”
Cheriss gave him a wry look and pointed at his datapad. “So, have you decided what serious topic you’re going to talk about?”
“Yeah. I had a back-up plan in case my good idea was shot down. I’ll focus on the different types of pilots and my predictions for each type, instead. You know, like the hotshot who flares out too fast, the squadron heart who holds the group together, the silent leader who would do anything for his pilots…” Janson grinned. “I’m going for something that won’t embarrass Wedge too much.”
“He’ll appreciate it.” Cheriss put her hat on her head, then turned back to Janson, who had already returned to his speech writing. “Major Janson? Which type am I?”
“I’m sorry?” He looked up from his datapad.
“Your types of pilots. Which type am I?”
He grinned. “You? You’re the type that, despite everything working against her to hold her down, still manages to defy gravity.”
</cut>
