|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Dec 28, 2008 9:59 pm
(ONE)
Harrigan was virtually speechless. "You're preparing the field?"
"Something like that." Terkins replied, standing with his hands in his pockets and grinning like a maniac. "Actually, it's been prepared already. I had the grounds crew working on it all night."
"You're not kidding, are you?" Harrigan looked incredulous.
"Come see for yourself."
Terkins led the way to the broad window that took up the entire wall of his spacious office. Looking down, Harrigan could see the rows upon rows of terraced seating that filled the sides of the bowl-shaped depression scooped out of the mountainside. Up above, across from the office window, towered the peaks of the mountain. Behind them could be seen other, taller, peaks in the range--most notably Marquil, glacial and defiant in the face of the extreme winds common to this geography. Steady breezes constantly rushed around to the sheltered side of the mountains, ripping at the banners attached to the cables that stretched across the bowl. In rain or snow, the cables would support protective sheeting to keep the bowl from collecting water. Of course the sheeting was always removed to let the wind in for battles, regardless of the presence (or lack) of precipitation.
Down below the terraced seating, part of the bowl’s regular blue turf had been replaced. Instead of the usual two-tone concentric circles, the lighter blue had been swapped for the medium-orange of the Kershin Crocs.
“But you only just got the Challenge Offer this morning!” Harrigan blurted, abruptly turning back to face Terkins, who grinned at him again.
“Yes, but I sent my own Challenge Offer two hours before theirs arrived. The Carriers must have passed each other in flight. Heh, when they get it, they’ll probably assume it’s my silly way of accepting theirs.”
“Yeah,” Harrigan replied, “something like that.” He turned back to the window and looked into the bowl again. In the bottom, he now noticed a few people from the grounds crew testing out the field, using light relays to make sure the turf wasn’t warped at all anywhere along the concave curvature.
Terkins’ confidence astounded him. Sure, his Battle Force was one of the better teams, with fighters hand-picked by Terkins himself, but the Harrigan Hawks were still relatively new and had a long way to go before they’d have a shot at a top place in the rankings. But they did have Terkins for a Manager. When Harrigan had first decided to invest in this sport, he’d never thought he’d be able to get someone like that to coach his Force.
Terkins always said it was the location that sold him on the job. Harrigan thought there were likely other reasons as well, but he didn’t want to pry, not after what happened the last time he’d tried to get information out of Terkins that the man hadn’t wanted to volunteer.
“So the match really will be tomorrow? So soon?”
Terkins wandered over to a cabinet on the wall behind his desk and started rummaging through it.
“The only reasonable time for it, considering the schedule for the rest of the pre-season. They know it, too. Their Challenge suggested the same day as I did in mine.”
“So who’s starting?”
“Onida leading Center, Perkin heading up Left Flank, and Kashbury on Right. Rear Guard will have Yustin.” Terkins extracted a couple of canisters from behind some other things in the cabinet. Offering one to Harrigan, he said: “So how did the Trade Meeting go last night?”
Harrigan took the can offered to him and pulled off the top. Slowly, he reached into the dark liquid and extracted a peanut. Chewing it, he answered as though what he had to say were routine, but he knew Terkins was anxious to hear the news. “We got Larsdi, June, and Fland. They’re coming up tonight to meet the rest.”
“You have Fland? Never mind, we’ll put Kashbury in Center behind Onida, and let Fland lead Right Flank!” Terkins held his own can up in a salute before taking a big swig of the carbonated beverage inside.
“But she’s best at Center, I hear.” Harrigan mused out loud.
Terkins was now pacing around the office in a gleeful manner. “That’s what they’ll expect, but she’s better at Right than anyone else is, and our Force needs every Lead position to have the best person for it.”
Harrigan took a drink from his canister, then fished out a couple more peanuts. “Well, I’m glad you know what you’re doing.”
The unexcited look on Harrigan’s face made Terkins pause. He wasn’t one to be friends with everyone who wanted to be friends with him, but Harrigan was someone he could get along with who never demanded anything from him except what Terkins always offered: to do his job as well as a perfectionist at the top of his game could.
“Hey, that’s why you hired me. Unless you want to have more say in things?”
“No, that’s not it. I really am glad to have you in full control of the Force.”
“Are you sure?”
“Well, it… simplifies things for me. Right now I really need simplification.”
Harrigan might seem to some people like a man who didn’t take charge, but even in the limited time that Terkins had known him, he’d been able to see that Harrigan was the kind of leader who delegated tasks to the people who could do them best. That was where his success (and that of the corporation he’d built from scratch) rested. Knowing who would be best in control of what and giving them what they needed to succeed was his genius, and Terkins respected him immensely for it. It put Harrigan on the limited list of people Terkins actually wanted to have as friends.
But it also meant that Harrigan had a lot of coordinating to do with all the tasks he delegated. It was what he was best at, so it was the one thing he never delegated to anyone else. Perhaps he was overworked. The man looked seriously troubled.
Terkins walked up and put a hand on Harrigan’s shoulder. “Hey, if I can help in any way-”
“Actually, you might be able to.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I know I can trust you.”
“Trust me? With something in the corporation?”
“Not at all. Here, look at this.”
Walking over to the desk, Harrigan set his canister down and reached for the briefcase he’d left between the desk and the door he’d come in by. He lifted it onto a chair and opened it, extracting a few crumpled sheets of paper. He handed one to Terkins.
“What’s this?” Terkins took it and smoothed it a bit. Then his eyes went wide as he read the note out loud, in a hushed voice.
“I would have shot you then, but…”
He waved the piece of paper in the air.
“This is a threat!”
“They all are.” Harrigan said, laying them out on the desk. “They continue one from the other, in sequence.”
Terkins put the paper down next to the others, looking at them in order. “Do you have any idea who-”
Harrigan shook his head. “Not really, but… well, I think it’s a Fighter on the Force.”
“You mean... one of the Hawks?”
“Exactly.”
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Dec 28, 2008 10:02 pm
(TWO)
Karen Fland sat by the window, looking out at the mountains as the sun’s last evening rays disappeared from their faces. Brent Larsdi and Adam June were conversing on the other side of the Shuttle. They had both been in this league far longer than Fland, and had been traded a few times before. Two seasons ago the two of them had even been on the same force. But Fland had been with the Fallway Panthers for all three seasons she’d been in the league. And this was the first time she’d been up in mountains this high. Last season, her force had come here to battle a couple times, but she’d been out with an injury for half the season and hadn’t been able to make the trip with them. The season before that, the Harrigan Hawks were just beginning to get organized and hadn’t officially joined the league yet, so all they’d fought had been challenge battles against a selection of forces.
I wonder how it’ll be on such a new force… Karen thought, examining the location of the bowl as the shuttle started getting into position to dock at the mountainside station. She had a view of a fair portion of the complex, but couldn’t really see into the bowl because of the sheeting that was covering it for the night. The weather report had foretold several inches of snow in these altitudes. She was rather anxious to get in there and see how the field’s shape combined with the elevation, and was sure they’d have to have some kind of practice tonight; it was rumored that only just today there’d been a challenge battle set up with the Kershin Crocs as soon as tomorrow.
Over the last three seasons, Karen Fland had fought in just about every type of field that the league currently had in it, including some that were somewhat turned up on the sides. But this was the only field that was genuinely bowl-shaped, with the farthest sides being almost vertical. At least from there one couldn’t see outward, only upward. Maybe she’d be able to forget that it was on the side of a mountaintop. She caught herself chewing at her fingernails again (had she been doing that this whole trip?), and stopped doing it only to start picking at the start of a hangnail. Then realizing what she was doing, she made herself stop that, too, and sit with her hands folded tight together. Come on, she scolded herself, we’re supposed to have broken that habit by now. It’s not worth it. And we’ll be getting out in a minute anyway.
The shuttle doors opened, and many of the Harrigan Hawks were there to meet the new arrivals. In no time at all they had distributed the luggage of all three people amongst themselves and were escorting them to the equipment room. Karen was left with nothing to carry except for a small tote she’d had by her feet in the shuttle, so with that over her shoulder she followed along with the rest, politely exchanging greetings with those in her immediate vicinity.
“Now I see why you came by Shuttle instead of Carrier! Look at all this luggage!” a Hawk near the front exclaimed loudly.
“Well, we did come up to stay a while, didn’t we?” Larsdi replied with a chuckle.
“Aw, whoever heard of people coming all this way by Carrier!” someone else laughed.
A big man met the group at the door to the equipment room. The Hawks carrying luggage dropped it on the floor on either side of the hallway and ushered the newcomers forward. “I’m Right Coach Ferris.” the big man said. “After we get you settled in here and give you a bit of orientation, you’ll get to take the rest of your luggage to the dormitory floor and have a little break before practice.”
“Hey, where’s Fitzy?” a female Hawk asked.
“In meetings still.” Ferris replied. “Fits and the other coaches will be meeting up in the bowl before practice time. Fland, Larsdi, June: grab your gear and I’ll show you where to put it.”
And so saying, he led the way into the equipment room.
“Fits?” Fland asked one of the Hawks as she looked through the luggage to locate her equipment bag.
“Head Coach Terkins.” the guy answered with a grin and a wink. “His first name’s Fitzgerald, doncha know.”
“We started calling him Fits when he hollered at us for using the nickname ‘Turkey’.” another Hawk put in aside, like telling a big secret everyone knew already.
Yet another guffawed. “It was probably a nickname he’d had to put up with when he was a kid; I mean, come on, what else are you gonna make out of a name like Terkins?”
“That doesn’t make it fair.” someone said, stifling a laugh and pretending to scold.
“But it was such an easy target!”
“He won’t say so, but we think Coach likes ‘Fits’ more.” the first guy added with another wink.
Fland smiled, picking up her equipment to follow the others. So far, it seemed like everyone was going to be able to get along just fine.
In the equipment room there was, of course, a place for everyone’s equipment and then some. Fland quickly counted the equipment spots which were being used, including the ones she and the other two new transfers were busy putting their gear in. Twenty. So it was true, what she’d heard about the Hawks only having the regulation number of fighters; no backups. Why no backups? That was slightly risky, wasn’t it? She’d started biting at her nails again while she’d been counting. Not worth it. She chided herself again, making a fist for a moment before continuing to store her things.
After that, she was also unpacking some things in the women’s locker room adjacent to the equipment room. Some of the female Hawks had followed her in to make mention of a few things, like the fact that the shower controls had been installed backwards and no one had bothered about getting it re-done.
“Now, just to warn you…” said a woman with a voice that carried particularly well, “Some of us had a meeting with ol’ Fits Terkins earlier today, and he seemed especially serious.”
“He’s been that way all day, ever since his meeting with Mr. Harrigan this morning.” another added.
“Bet he got himself chewed for something.” a third theorized, sipping soda from a bottle.
“We don’t know a thing about it.” the first said, almost with a glare at the others. Then she addressed Fland again. “But the point is, dear, he’s been a little preoccupied and edgy today, so I thought I’d warn you about it. The word of the day is ‘deferential’. Even if some others on the force may be… not entirely respectful, there’s no sense in you picking up on the habit right away if Coach is in a bad mood. Okay?”
Fland nodded. “Sure.” She really wasn’t one to rush familiarity, so she figured she’d have no problem at all with the recommendation. Though she hoped this woman wasn’t going to be one always giving out advice as though she knew better than anyone else. All the same, There’s one in every group. Fland thought to herself.
“Onida!” Ferris called from the equipment room.
Apparently the voice of the woman who’d been giving advice had carried over the hubbub of voices in the equipment room and in both locker rooms; as soon as she got to where Ferris was, he started to suggest to her that she should have chosen her conversation differently. Fland didn’t catch all of it, but she did clearly hear Onida try to put up a defense.
“Well, I didn’t want to sound like I was passing judgement on-”
“You did anyway.” Ferris replied dryly.
“Sounds like he’s more serious today, too.” remarked the Hawk who was finishing off her soda. “Don’t worry about it, that’s not the way things always are around here.”
I sure hope not. Fland thought, catching herself picking at the hangnail again. Not worth it, she told herself once more, and looked for a pair of clippers to trim it with before meeting the other two for Ferris’ orientation speech.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
