Starling's swoop
The gondola rocked to a halt at Ponte de Lengo some 2,000 meters above sea level in the Italian Alps, Starling joined the rest of the passengers and trudged stiffly to the Val di Sole adventure centre. They could feel a nervous tingle run the length of their body as they stepped into the air-conditioned lobby. Joining the line and settling in to wait, Starling had time they knew, but the urge to keep checking the display on their neural net lingered. A distraction was needed so they started a conversation with the young couple holding hands in the next line.
‘This your first time shooting the valley?’ They inquired in what they hoped was a relaxed and convivial manner.
The young men turned in unison, looked Starling up and down taking in their tall-broad form, their handsome face and nondescript attire. Then the slimmer of the two young men replied ‘Oh no we’re regulars here. We just love the rush of valley gliding; we did the Grand Canyon last summer it was simply stunning. Have you been?’
Starling relaxed a little as the conversation began to flow ‘Wow the Grand Canyon, eh? That must have been amazing. I’m new to this sport, actually, it’s my first time... I’m rather nervous, to tell the truth.’
‘You should have someone to hold your hand!’ The second man suggested with a wry wink.
‘Don’t mind him, he’s a terrible flirt, aren’t you Garry... I’m Jeff by the way.’ They held out their hands and Starling shook each in turn cordially.
‘Jason Nacio, nice to meet you.’ Starling replied.
‘Nice to meet you too, Jason...’ Jeff and Garry cooed in unison, and then the latter giggled. ‘...there’s nothing to worry about Jason...’ Jeff continued giving his partner an admonishing glance ‘…the Morph-Tech they use here is the safest in all the Alps, you just let the suit do the work and you will be gliding down the valley like an eagle. Just relax and enjoy the view, the AI won’t let you come to any harm. We know the tech guy here, all the gear is top-of-the-range stuff, the best, Korean.’
Starling smiled inside, this was perfect, they just had to play the nervous -virgin-flyer type and once they didn’t overdo it, they’d be fine. ‘Oh, that’s great to hear Jeff you have no idea how much better that makes me feel.’ they continued chatting about the Grand Canyon as the line advanced and Starling relaxed some more.
When Starling’s turn came the guys wished him luck, Garry blew him a kiss and Jeff promised to see him at the jump point. The tech guy, Jeff’s friend, assured Jason Nacio he’d be ‘... just dandy!’ and gave him the safety-protocol speech. Starling's heartbeat doubled as they were scanned for mall-ware, in part they were sure that the hidden tech they had was “undetectable”, the black-market contact had been adamant of that, but there was always a chance. Sweat slicked Starling’s palms as they were given the all clear and the tech guy helped them into the Morph-Tech suit. The tech guy went through some more tests to ensure that Starling’s neural net was communicating correctly with the suit.
‘… now extend the wings...’ Starling sent a thought command and the suit deployed its wings morphing out from the back-pack unit in a fluid motion and the in-mind-visual displayed a neat, easy-to-read graphic of what was happening, ‘...good, you’re good at this already, now try left-turn, right-turn aero-foils...very good, well that’s it I think, you’re all good to go Mr Nacio.’ Jason was led to the jump point and introduced to the jump instructor.
By now all but two of the group were ready to go, Starling looked down the valley, shielding their eyes from the spring sunshine they could just about make out the town of Tonale situated at 1,850 meters above sea level nestled in the deep-cut V of the valley, that’s where we start they thought, it’s all downhill from there, Starling grinned ever so slightly while they pretended to listen to the instructor, ′...so remember your suits can not allow you to be hurt in any way and you won’t be at risk of hurting anyone else either...′
And then the time had come, the suited line of adventurers jumped one by one and at one-minute intervals. Starling watched as the Morph-Tech suits enveloped the wearers, each one in different shades of gaudy colours. Jeff jumped ahead of them in a garish mess of a suit all lime green and banana yellow. The suit formed a glider profile about his body as Jeff deployed the wings, tail fins, and the rear-mounted ion-thrusters allowing him to gain a little more thrust before the wings smoothly extended a little more and he glided out into the valley. Starling stepped up onto the launch platform, this suit was red, blue and white, empire colours they thought with dismay, checked the time on the neural net display and then switched to the schematics they had uploaded earlier. The display showed the route down the valley and the little isthmus that jutted out into Lago di Santa Giustina. With the flight path double-checked, wind speed looked ideal, and the chronometer stated they were well within tolerance to begin to glide. They gave the jump instructor a nod and jumped on his signal.
After the short thrust period, they settled into a glide, Starling allowed the suit’s AI to trim the wings as they began to hack into its systems. Seconds later Starling was in. The Jason Nacio disguise, a morph-suit they had occupied, now combined with the adventure centre’s own red, white and blue suit to form another type of suit far different in conception and intent than a mere jump-glider.
Starling breathed a sigh of relief and wiggled their fingers, the difference in body proportion had made the disguise rather uncomfortable to wear. Glancing down to see Tonale coming up fast, they switched the exterior colours to a radar-deflecting stealth grey and adjusted the flight path skimming low over the town. The Pine forests whipped past on either side in a dark green blur as the rich pastures directly below appeared for all intents and purposes like a serpentine river of emeralds as it switched this way and that.
Starling toggled the video feed supplied by their camera on Ponte del Castellaz bridge which was silently watching the isthmus of Revó. The live feed showed the presidential Heli-taxi touching down on the landing pad in front of the vineyard summer retreat. The chronometer read forty seconds to contact. Starling watched intently as the President approached the landing pad, he had his wife with him. Collateral damage the thought came unbidden and was quickly whipped away. Starling focused on the task at hand, reconfiguring the ion-thrusters with the extra morph-tech from the ‘Jason Nacio’ suit, expanding their thrust capacity tenfold.
The towns of Marilleva and Malé shot past beneath now glittering in the mid-morning sun, the target was mere seconds away. On command, the front of Starling’s glider reconfigured to a nose-cone arrangement and with the aid of some very illegal code formed a diamond-hard outer layer while the interior did the opposite wrapping Starling’s body in a shock-absorbing foam. Still gliding low and indistinguishable from the other gliders flitting above the valley. Starling swooped out over Lago di Santa Giustina, water only meters away, shot under the suspension bridge and lined up on the Heli-taxi. With five seconds to go, Starling engaged the beefed-up ion thrusters which exploded into action with a sonic boom as they accelerated to Mac.1.
The President, with his wife in a loving embrace, had just enough time to hear the boom before the shock wave hit, Starling’s super-sonic projectile slammed into them milliseconds later ploughing into the isthmus with an ungodly crash. The blast of the impact destroying everything within a hundred-meter radius.
Minutes later a bathing-suited figure emerged from the water near Siaggia Plaza on the far side of the lake, lean yet muscled with rich auburn hair clinging damply to her back. She walked up the rocky shore to the throw laid out under a wild olive tree. Settling herself down she wrapped the throw about her shoulders, reached into the bag she had left there earlier, pulled out a chilled bottle of Prosecco and poured herself a glass. Sitting, staring at the plumes of smoke spiralling up from the Revó isthmus and the chaos of emergency lights and sirens she allowed herself a sigh of relief while absent-mindedly rubbing the pendent that hung around her neck. It was in the form of a bird in flight, with iridescent blues, and greens on black, a Starling.
The End
