2.1.1

A New Beginning

Gravel kicked up behind combat boots.

The dusk of a dawn unbroken grew steadily lighter with the thumping beat of running feet. Along a shallow crest of rock, a singular body ran along the ridge in the New Mexican desert, facing south under the rising sun.

Strawberry blonde hair glowed to rose gold when the first steaks of sunlight struck bouncing strands.

Astrid breathed deep. Practiced, measured. The sun’s rays raced to greet her strides. In her ears, music and drums drove her with emotion. To indulge in such rampant and abandoned liberation.

She leapt along the fine, shallow peaks, the combination of sky and song lit a pale glow in the quartz that clinked against fresh dog tags.

This moment became one she most looked forward to every single morning.

Astrid Hale finished her basic training months ago, and extensive, personally tailored black-ops instruction after. But the Earthen Military Service still held her under supervision. They finally, after completion of her formal training program, permitted her the independence to go for runs in the morning without an escort. Though they certainly still tracked her every move.

Each dawn, she rose to race the sun into the sky. To feel the energy and excitement of a new golden day on Earth.

The Statics that lived in Fort Magnus took it for granted. But out here, alone, the Channeler found the peace to truly appreciate what she’d previously been denied.

Sun. Earth. Purpose.

The exertion calmed the occasional restlessness and excess anxiety. It leveled her. And yet, the bracing air and warming light fueled her for the demonstrations she’d be expected to perform throughout the day.

Astrid reached the end of the predetermined running trail. With the energy gathered in her crystal she hoisted a glaring bolt of light into the sky, to signal those at the base she reached the point and would return soon. A condition set forth so the watchmen could track her runs. Not that there were a lot of places to hide in the desert. But nonetheless, the act marked one of many stipulations pinned to her shiny new service record.

Astrid paced in small circles, to catch her breath and soak in the first tendrils of sunlight.

She removed her earbuds to listen to the gentle desert breeze.

A gift from the Aldebaran crew, the device that played for her stayed in her pocket. They sent it while she remained separated from them, a kind sentiment. In their note, Dell theorized music could be useful in pulling Astrid’s emotions for channel work. The ever-thoughtful technician even fitted it with a faraday case, to guard against surges should she ever have an unplanned discharge.

The whole team contributed to the playlist, but they neglected to inform her who supplied what.

It became somewhat of a game for her to guess. Some of the classical pieces felt more like dances or lullabies. The hip-hop and party music could have come from at least three of her friends. Fondly, she thought on them, and the unspoken promise to herself that one day she’d be able to ask.

Long weeks stretched between visits of one or another. In total, eight months passed since their initial return to Earth. When she missed them most, the Channeler found solace in their gift.

Aside from providing an excellent training aid, the gesture kept her tethered on days when Fort Magnus seemed filled with strangers, and necessary commitments having little to do with what Astrid truly sought.

Home.

With a warmth that rivaled the sunrise, Astrid seated the faces of her friends firmly in her mind’s eye until a smile graced her lips.

Having caught her breath, she replaced the buds in her ear, let the beats rev her heart, and turned to bound the trail back to the base.

~~~

Sometime later, Astrid stood in the center of a tented arena. A recent addition to Fort Magnus.

In her boots, fatigue uniform, and nothing more than a thin safety vest, she stood with hair tied back, and determination set on her lips.

In front of spectators of the Service brass, high-ranking government officials, and as always, a pair from Research and Development, she looked only a soldier from afar. Like any other. Save for the blindfold over her eyes.

But at the call of her drill instructor, the sound of drone engines rose from the wings.

A gathering of a dozen officers, and those with clearance, turned to the source of the noise, though Astrid couldn’t see them.

She could only feel their static, out on the edges of her expanded senses. But her focus fell instead on the small motors that whorled in the air toward her.

The military saved the more expensive and fancier models for special presentations, for which she couldn’t fault them. She went through them too quickly.

It felt a shame though. Her practices were a lot more fun with those.

Each Static in attendance bore controls for their own individual drone, an interactive part of her demos. She waited a moment to let them have their fun. To swirl around her blind body in an attempt to toy with her senses.

The Channeler didn’t care to reveal how easy it became to track the machines. It hardly felt a challenge anymore. In fact, she looked forward to the moment when one picked up speed while its director grew impatient.

Her hands moved on instinct. With a flash of her palm, the assaulting drone warbled. She could have simply drained it. But it felt more satisfying to reduce its power to half. To collect just enough energy to then overcharge the thing’s motor until it exploded in a shower of euphoric sparks.

Gasps and mutters sounded from the gallery. And in the arena, the remaining drones picked up speed and erratic flight paths.

Astrid spun in the void of energy to her right and pinched her fingers as if to catch the next drone from meters away.

The machine froze at her beckoning. She pulled it empty, until it landed in the dirt floor. The collected energy, she whipped at the nearest speedy device.

A bolt of pale blue light shot through the air between, and the next overloaded completely at the discharge. Another deadened.

Those that remained shifted outward, further away, while her “playmates” ceased to underestimate her range and power.

Astrid felt the pleasant stretch of her abilities.

She sensed them, nine now, spin in a flurry. Sparks flew in a dance with drones. Her limbs cast beads and bolts of light that lit the tent in flashes.

The specialist ducked under the flyby of an incoming drone. Its erratic flight path made to avoid her talents, but she sensed it too clearly for it to pose any real risk of colliding with her.

The enduring devices spun around, and soon it felt much like a game of cat and mouse. For the drones served a purpose, and in doing so, could not retreat. They were utterly used to showcase the Channeler and what she could do, for all to see.

She decommissioned each one, with either a bolt, a surge, or by complete depletion. The last two she struck down, not with her powers, but with her martial skill. She only needed to wait for them to draw close enough to batter each with a slice of her forearm, augmented in pale light.

She intended to show her witnesses she offered more as a solider than energy manipulation alone.

When the whistle came to sound her exercise complete, Astrid lifted her blindfold over her hair.

The arena floor looked a haphazard mess of parts and pieces. Some scorched, others broken, and still others whole and useless on the ground.

She couldn’t fight the sense of pride that came with imaging what her friends would have to say, and a private grin crept up her lips.

When she turned to the spectators, however, not all of them smiled.

A few looked excited. Others fascinated. But some looked uncomfortable. Some concerned, and others scared.

A fraction clapped, but others left in silence, without a word to the energy specialist. Not that she expected resounding applause.

But still, she completed her daily task for the Board and its dignitaries. And the few pleased by her exhibition lingered. With a steadying breath she crossed to those that remained to introduce herself formally, and to tend to Captain London’s side of her work: the winning of hearts and minds.

Word of Earth’s new military asset spread. More came to see her demonstrations in increasing frequency. She even heard rumor that a few news agencies sought her interview. But the Board declined “on her behalf.”

Still, she couldn’t let the opportunity for more face time with the foreign Statics slip by without making the most of it. To those excited by her display, she offered smiles and discussed theoretical applications.

It felt rewarding to have London’s vision validated by talks of a Channeler Division, whether its own strike force, or its agents distributed to supplement Static squads. In these dialogues, Astrid thrilled to see so many entertain the idea that more might follow her into the Service, and from there, into a free life.

But in the evening, she marched herself to a heavily guarded building on the Fort’s perimeter, the Detention Center.