The Tower by J.S. Frankel Page B

Knowing the words was one thing,; using them cleverly was another.
    It was in the middle of a game of gin rummy that all conversation dried up. Everyone was looking at the doorway. Oriana, costume and all, was leaning against the wall, eyeing me. She then walked over and stood in front of the table. All the others in the room were whispering, but no one said a word aloud; no one dared. The room then emptied out in a hurry.
    Oriana sat down at the now-cleared table and started. “I’m, uh…I sort of sounded off on you last time,” she began. She didn’t even notice that everyone else had gone. “Tough day on the job…stuff happens, you know?” Her voice was a bit friendlier this time around.
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œAnd,” she continued, “I probably caused a real mess, didn’t I?”
    â€œI cleaned it up.”
    She looked at me again, almost as if she were looking right through me; maybe she figured I wasn’t such a dork after all. Or did she? Wasn’t sure on that at all, and then I realized…wow…was she apologizing to me? Well, if she was, that was alright…what to say?
    â€œIf you’re saying you’re sorry,” I said slowly, “then apology accepted. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too.”
    She gave me another one of those searching looks and said, “Yeah, I am apologizing to you. And your apology is accepted, too,” she echoed with a little smile. She paused a bit and then seemed to make up her mind about something. “You’re off-duty soon, right?”
    â€œNow, why?”
    She leaned over a bit. “Wanna come to the surface? I need someone to help me.”
    â€œHelp you?” Couldn’t the other Association members help out?
    â€œYeah, meet me in the Hangar Bay at 14:00 sharp. Don’t worry about leaving. I’ll clear it.” Although she still had that aggressive tone in her voice, her invitation got me curious. “What do you want to do?”
    â€œYou’ll see.”
    * * *
    Two forty-eight p.m. Oriana had piloted the Dart in expertly, landing at Portland Airport. It was my first ride ever, kind of cool just zipping along in space, once I got used to it, that is. The Darts were space shuttles and delivered supplies to disaster-hit or famine-ridden areas at least ten times a day. There were a lot of them in the Hangar Bay, all neatly lined up. About seventy-five feet long and just under twenty feet wide, they were wicked-looking missile-like ships, used not only for shuttling supplies to Earth but also for interstellar travel.
    All of the Darts were painted a dark green, with brown stripes on their wings. Oriana said that the colors were in honor of the Earth. “Saving the planet and all that,” she told me. “It’s part of our code.” Guess I’d find out about that later, too.
    I also noticed that the ships were packing plasma cannons on their turrets and rapid-fire plasma machine guns on their wings. For a peace-loving group like the Association was supposed to be, saving the planet and all that (as she said) it was a bit of a surprise.
    â€œOnly we have the codes to use these suckers,” Oriana told me. “If you like weapons, one day I’ll show you how much damage this ship can do,” she said with a slight grin.
    Anyway, she’d taken off quickly with no co-pilot and I almost lost my lunch. I’d never been in a jet before much less a starship and the sudden acceleration shoved me backwards into the seat. After a few minutes speeding through space I calmed down but my heart started slamming faster again when we entered the atmosphere. The outsides heated up from the friction; the whole exterior seemed to glow a cherry red, and then the flames quickly died away. Was that always how it was? Damn, that was scary, although the landing was picture perfect.
    Oriana noticed my face—I felt it’d turned as white as she told