Ad Astra - 4th Chapter: Conditions of Becoming a Scout.
Title: Conditions of Becoming a Scout
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Iceland, mystery girl
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Summary: So many questions, so many answers.
Conditions of Becoming a Scout
The Sky was black like the bottom of a longboat. The upper cloud layers were thin tonight, Iceland noted, steering his fall into a graceful U-curve upwards. The girl was screaming of delight and was clinging onto him tightly just as she had been told. He slowed to a halt and wrapped his arms around the child again.
She took in the whole night Sky with so much passion that it was rare to see in a human child. It was as if she bore no fear of falling what so ever, Iceland thought, making a mental note on that this girl might have some talent as a scout when she grew up a little. As if reading his mind the girl said:
“I want to do this when I grow up!”
Iceland laughed and promised that once she was big enough to not slip through the harness she could, if she still felt that way, begin the training. Scout capability that was natural to the countries was rare in humans, and any child who held no fear of floating above the empty void of Sky at night could now be considered as a strike of good luck. They had lost too many scouts with Gimli, as soon as it became a possibility they would definitely begin to train anyone who seemed suited for the task.
“Where did the world go?”
The question was sudden but somehow it did not surprise Iceland as much as it should have. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps he had himself been thinking of the same thing.
“No one knows that yet - er - what's your name?”
“I don't know.”
“No really, what's your name? What, you really don't know? What does your mother call you?”
“I can't remember.”
“Now now, she was talking with you back on the ship wasn't she?”
“No. That's just Sigriður.”
“Sigriður.”
“Uh huh.”
“Who's she then? And where's your mother?”
“I don't know. I was waiting for her in the ship but she hasn't come yet.”
Iceland let out a long, heavy breath. It had definitely been a mistake to steer the discussion to the girl's mother, even though it gave a good explanation as to why she did not remember even her own name; her memory had probably turned a little bit selective on what it wanted her to know of.
He cleared his throat, anxious to change the subject.
“Well, how about I'll give you a name? When you remember yours you can keep both. You'll have two names. How's that?”
The girl nodded faintly.
“How about... Stjarna? It means a star. Would that be good? It would? Well then Stjarna, how about we fly a small round?”
The girl, Stjarna, whatever her real name was, proved to be an amazingly well learning child and curious all the way to her boots. She battered him with questions so rapidly that Iceland had trouble answering them before a new one hit, but he tried to explain her the basics of scouting as well as he could.
Not everybody could become a scout. Scouting needed a certain lack of self preservation skills, an utter fearlessness that was rare. Scouts were perhaps treated a little bit reverently but that was just to show respect to the only people that were insane enough to help a whole fleet move across the atmosphere. Of course Iceland explained it a little bit differently to the girl but that was nevertheless the gist of it.
There were no good ways of mapping the other worlds. They all floated as the winds took them and only their very general location could ever be known, and that too only as a vague idea of where the world had been the last time it had been seen. In the past the fleets of Gimli had harrowed on many worlds, these neighboring ones included, and therefore their people had perhaps the best idea of what was where and how the winds affected the movement of the worlds.
A scout's task was to go ahead, alone, fly as large rounds as he could and seek out the correct direction. Without them a whole fleet could be lost rowing forever and eventually perish when food and water ran out. A scout could also help the fleet to avoid thunderstorms on the same layer as the ships were rowing, sparing them many dangers and keeping an eye on the direction of winds on each layer to select one most suitable for the course.
To operate a scout needed a harness. At the moment they only had one, but there were materials on the longboat for more, out of necessity: the straps wore through when they were in use and without constant repairing their lifespan would be shorter. Iceland thought it possible to create at least two new harnesses out of the materials on his ship alone, although they'd have to be shorter than his. These were a little bit unusual ones anyway - they were frail in build and meant that he had to keep flying and could not stay floating on a spot for too long at a time. A shorter, sturdier harness enabled the wearer to for example carry injured people from one boat to another at maximum four at a time - his long one could barely support two grownups.
The harness part had a belt that locked around the waist and which was worn between the layers of his clothes. From it two straps connected to the scout's ankles, also under the top layer of clothes to avoid tangling, which could otherwise be fateful. The flying straps were attached to these ankle straps. A scout would steer himself by the movements of his body, diving down for more speed, turning up against the wind to slow down, that kind of thing. The scouts were taught with shorter straps first so that if something happened they could simply be hoisted back up onboard. Someone wearing the regular length straps was, however, in immediate danger if he fell. Iceland's long straps in particular were treacherous in that should he fall in the middle or lower layers he would end up falling right through and into the void down below where there was no oxygen and no one could live. A scout losing consciousness for one reason or another, for example, was as good as dead. A scout who let his harness tangle was also a goner. Being a scout was a dangerous job and, Iceland explained, that's why it brought along some rules of the profession.
Someone who wanted to become a scout could never, not ever, cry while on board. His or her position demanded that others would have to be able to rely on them at all times. A scout caught sniffling would lose everybody's trust and that was a dangerous thing on the side voyages. It could lead to panicking and riots, a whole fleet could perish because the crew did not fully trust their scout. Sigriður's story was true to a point, Iceland said gravely, but what she had forgotten to tell Stjarna was that some tears were heavier than others. A small girl could cry a puddle all she wanted and the ship wouldn't as much as shudder, but a scout's tears had such weight that they could sink even the largest of longboats.
Another important position on the ship that scouts did not always hold, but now did out of necessity, was the Höfðingi. A Höfðingi was a name for both the person who lead one ship and the ship that lead a fleet. A Höfðingi of a ship was bound by all the same rules as a scout, but held the right of deciding, upon a scout's suggestions, where to steer his ship or fleet. However, in dangerous situations the Höfðingi would see the safety of others first and their own last, and, Iceland decided to tell, one of his oldest friends who had been a Höfðingi and not a scout had stayed willingly behind to rather fall with Gimli than to climb onboard.
“Why?”
“Because - because those who hold the most power also hold the most responsibility, like Pétur in Köngulóarmann's saga. I think it really is the best way of explaining it. If you have the power to decide over people's well-being and the direction they travel, you also have to put every single one of them before your own needs. He wanted every single available place on the ship to go to his people.”
“Who's the Höfðingi now?”
“Anyone on board who's either a scout or chosen by the others.”
“I'm getting cold.”
“No wonder, we've been flying around for a good while and the sun is not up to warm us - see that small speck of light over there? That's how far away we are from the ship. Keep your hands inside your collar on the way back so they'll warm up a bit.”
“One more thing. You said you don't know what's down below, but what's up above then?”
“The spot you can see on a clear weather? That's the core. You have to be careful not to sail too close to it, its gravitation is strong enough to pull a whole ship down.”
“But what is it?”
“Well - again, no one can get close enough to see it -”
“Could a scout get closer?”
“Yes, but then the rest of you would have to hoist me up for 200 kilometres' worth, haha!”
“You can't fly when you're up there?”
“Hey now, it was supposed to be only one more question! No, a scout cannot fly in a strong gravitation area. If I were to get away from the floating layer I would just fall right into the core.”
“You'd fall upwards, hahaha!”
“Heh, I guess so yes.”
By taking a small dive Iceland built them a gentle speed that would not be too cold for the girl Stjarna. They slid through the darkness with ease as if swimming in the - the what? Iceland checked himself. What was that word that had popped into his mind uninvited? Swimming in what?
Sometimes it happened that he would suddenly remember something from the past, a past that was now so long gone that not one of his people could say anything certain about it. That was how the nations forgot. Their people forgot first and eventually the nation itself could not find it in his or her memory any longer. It helped to write things down but alas, and Iceland allowed himself to think longingly of his own library for a moment, books could so easily be lost or destroyed.
Back on the ship Sigriður was more than happy to meet them. She did not know the girl who was now called Stjarna, neither had she any reason to take care of her but she had chosen to. Like everyone who came from the world Gimli she bore a very strong sense of personal responsibility and of doing what was expected of her; the girl was alone and so was she, she could take care of her for now. Waking up to not find the girl anywhere had had her paging the whole length of the ship by the time they returned. She gathered the by now a little sleepy child into her arms, wrapped her well in her cloak, thanked Iceland in somewhat a stern manner (perhaps she didn't quite agree with the idea of bringing a small child overboard) and then disappeared quietly into the sleeping tent. Iceland stretched his arms behind his neck and thought to do the same. It had truly been a long day.
5th Chapter: Birds of a Feather.
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Iceland, mystery girl
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Summary: So many questions, so many answers.
Conditions of Becoming a Scout
The Sky was black like the bottom of a longboat. The upper cloud layers were thin tonight, Iceland noted, steering his fall into a graceful U-curve upwards. The girl was screaming of delight and was clinging onto him tightly just as she had been told. He slowed to a halt and wrapped his arms around the child again.
She took in the whole night Sky with so much passion that it was rare to see in a human child. It was as if she bore no fear of falling what so ever, Iceland thought, making a mental note on that this girl might have some talent as a scout when she grew up a little. As if reading his mind the girl said:
“I want to do this when I grow up!”
Iceland laughed and promised that once she was big enough to not slip through the harness she could, if she still felt that way, begin the training. Scout capability that was natural to the countries was rare in humans, and any child who held no fear of floating above the empty void of Sky at night could now be considered as a strike of good luck. They had lost too many scouts with Gimli, as soon as it became a possibility they would definitely begin to train anyone who seemed suited for the task.
“Where did the world go?”
The question was sudden but somehow it did not surprise Iceland as much as it should have. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps he had himself been thinking of the same thing.
“No one knows that yet - er - what's your name?”
“I don't know.”
“No really, what's your name? What, you really don't know? What does your mother call you?”
“I can't remember.”
“Now now, she was talking with you back on the ship wasn't she?”
“No. That's just Sigriður.”
“Sigriður.”
“Uh huh.”
“Who's she then? And where's your mother?”
“I don't know. I was waiting for her in the ship but she hasn't come yet.”
Iceland let out a long, heavy breath. It had definitely been a mistake to steer the discussion to the girl's mother, even though it gave a good explanation as to why she did not remember even her own name; her memory had probably turned a little bit selective on what it wanted her to know of.
He cleared his throat, anxious to change the subject.
“Well, how about I'll give you a name? When you remember yours you can keep both. You'll have two names. How's that?”
The girl nodded faintly.
“How about... Stjarna? It means a star. Would that be good? It would? Well then Stjarna, how about we fly a small round?”
The girl, Stjarna, whatever her real name was, proved to be an amazingly well learning child and curious all the way to her boots. She battered him with questions so rapidly that Iceland had trouble answering them before a new one hit, but he tried to explain her the basics of scouting as well as he could.
Not everybody could become a scout. Scouting needed a certain lack of self preservation skills, an utter fearlessness that was rare. Scouts were perhaps treated a little bit reverently but that was just to show respect to the only people that were insane enough to help a whole fleet move across the atmosphere. Of course Iceland explained it a little bit differently to the girl but that was nevertheless the gist of it.
There were no good ways of mapping the other worlds. They all floated as the winds took them and only their very general location could ever be known, and that too only as a vague idea of where the world had been the last time it had been seen. In the past the fleets of Gimli had harrowed on many worlds, these neighboring ones included, and therefore their people had perhaps the best idea of what was where and how the winds affected the movement of the worlds.
A scout's task was to go ahead, alone, fly as large rounds as he could and seek out the correct direction. Without them a whole fleet could be lost rowing forever and eventually perish when food and water ran out. A scout could also help the fleet to avoid thunderstorms on the same layer as the ships were rowing, sparing them many dangers and keeping an eye on the direction of winds on each layer to select one most suitable for the course.
To operate a scout needed a harness. At the moment they only had one, but there were materials on the longboat for more, out of necessity: the straps wore through when they were in use and without constant repairing their lifespan would be shorter. Iceland thought it possible to create at least two new harnesses out of the materials on his ship alone, although they'd have to be shorter than his. These were a little bit unusual ones anyway - they were frail in build and meant that he had to keep flying and could not stay floating on a spot for too long at a time. A shorter, sturdier harness enabled the wearer to for example carry injured people from one boat to another at maximum four at a time - his long one could barely support two grownups.
The harness part had a belt that locked around the waist and which was worn between the layers of his clothes. From it two straps connected to the scout's ankles, also under the top layer of clothes to avoid tangling, which could otherwise be fateful. The flying straps were attached to these ankle straps. A scout would steer himself by the movements of his body, diving down for more speed, turning up against the wind to slow down, that kind of thing. The scouts were taught with shorter straps first so that if something happened they could simply be hoisted back up onboard. Someone wearing the regular length straps was, however, in immediate danger if he fell. Iceland's long straps in particular were treacherous in that should he fall in the middle or lower layers he would end up falling right through and into the void down below where there was no oxygen and no one could live. A scout losing consciousness for one reason or another, for example, was as good as dead. A scout who let his harness tangle was also a goner. Being a scout was a dangerous job and, Iceland explained, that's why it brought along some rules of the profession.
Someone who wanted to become a scout could never, not ever, cry while on board. His or her position demanded that others would have to be able to rely on them at all times. A scout caught sniffling would lose everybody's trust and that was a dangerous thing on the side voyages. It could lead to panicking and riots, a whole fleet could perish because the crew did not fully trust their scout. Sigriður's story was true to a point, Iceland said gravely, but what she had forgotten to tell Stjarna was that some tears were heavier than others. A small girl could cry a puddle all she wanted and the ship wouldn't as much as shudder, but a scout's tears had such weight that they could sink even the largest of longboats.
Another important position on the ship that scouts did not always hold, but now did out of necessity, was the Höfðingi. A Höfðingi was a name for both the person who lead one ship and the ship that lead a fleet. A Höfðingi of a ship was bound by all the same rules as a scout, but held the right of deciding, upon a scout's suggestions, where to steer his ship or fleet. However, in dangerous situations the Höfðingi would see the safety of others first and their own last, and, Iceland decided to tell, one of his oldest friends who had been a Höfðingi and not a scout had stayed willingly behind to rather fall with Gimli than to climb onboard.
“Why?”
“Because - because those who hold the most power also hold the most responsibility, like Pétur in Köngulóarmann's saga. I think it really is the best way of explaining it. If you have the power to decide over people's well-being and the direction they travel, you also have to put every single one of them before your own needs. He wanted every single available place on the ship to go to his people.”
“Who's the Höfðingi now?”
“Anyone on board who's either a scout or chosen by the others.”
“I'm getting cold.”
“No wonder, we've been flying around for a good while and the sun is not up to warm us - see that small speck of light over there? That's how far away we are from the ship. Keep your hands inside your collar on the way back so they'll warm up a bit.”
“One more thing. You said you don't know what's down below, but what's up above then?”
“The spot you can see on a clear weather? That's the core. You have to be careful not to sail too close to it, its gravitation is strong enough to pull a whole ship down.”
“But what is it?”
“Well - again, no one can get close enough to see it -”
“Could a scout get closer?”
“Yes, but then the rest of you would have to hoist me up for 200 kilometres' worth, haha!”
“You can't fly when you're up there?”
“Hey now, it was supposed to be only one more question! No, a scout cannot fly in a strong gravitation area. If I were to get away from the floating layer I would just fall right into the core.”
“You'd fall upwards, hahaha!”
“Heh, I guess so yes.”
By taking a small dive Iceland built them a gentle speed that would not be too cold for the girl Stjarna. They slid through the darkness with ease as if swimming in the - the what? Iceland checked himself. What was that word that had popped into his mind uninvited? Swimming in what?
Sometimes it happened that he would suddenly remember something from the past, a past that was now so long gone that not one of his people could say anything certain about it. That was how the nations forgot. Their people forgot first and eventually the nation itself could not find it in his or her memory any longer. It helped to write things down but alas, and Iceland allowed himself to think longingly of his own library for a moment, books could so easily be lost or destroyed.
Back on the ship Sigriður was more than happy to meet them. She did not know the girl who was now called Stjarna, neither had she any reason to take care of her but she had chosen to. Like everyone who came from the world Gimli she bore a very strong sense of personal responsibility and of doing what was expected of her; the girl was alone and so was she, she could take care of her for now. Waking up to not find the girl anywhere had had her paging the whole length of the ship by the time they returned. She gathered the by now a little sleepy child into her arms, wrapped her well in her cloak, thanked Iceland in somewhat a stern manner (perhaps she didn't quite agree with the idea of bringing a small child overboard) and then disappeared quietly into the sleeping tent. Iceland stretched his arms behind his neck and thought to do the same. It had truly been a long day.
5th Chapter: Birds of a Feather.