Subject: FICTION : Jump Start (1/1)
From: [email-masked] (Leung Edwin)
Date: 3 Jan 1995 17:20:31 GMT
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative

I wrote this a couple of years ago for a Star Trek fanzine at Queen's U.  
It was never published (the fanzine), for various reasons, none of which 
involved my having submitted this story, I feel sure.  Even though it 
does have Wesley Crusher in it.

Anyway, read it, see what you think; enjoy it, hate it, throw rancid 
potato peelings at the screen, whatever.  Operators are standing by.  I 
think I need some sleep now.

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			JUMP START  by Cameron Dixon
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This was not a good idea, Wes Crusher thought to himself as he studied 
the ground far below.  Far too far below, if you wanted his opinion; but 
what was his opinion good for anyway, if it had brought him up here in 
the first place?  If all your friends wanted to jump off a cliff, Wes, 
what would you do?

"I really don't want to do this."

"Come on, Crusher," the young man behind him insisted.  "We're all in 
this together, we agreed.  One for all, and you were all for it just a 
minute ago."

"Yeah, well, that was down there, Tessler."  The wind ruffled his hair as 
he stared down at the distant white X on the ground.  The field generator 
was a small black dot at the centre of the cross, barely visible.  Which 
meant either that the generator was far too far down or far, far too 
small.  Or both.

Part of Wesley's mind which never really switched off took a split second 
to calculate the exact distance to the ground in nanometres and how long 
it would take him to fall.

I really don't want to do this.

He took a step back from the edge of the platform.  Another of the stu- 
dents shrugged and took his place.  Wesley watched and swallowed as she 
spread her arms and stepped off into space.  Within seconds she was 
gone.  If she'd paused to think before jumping, he hadn't seen.

The other students watched as she fell.

Not so hard, was it?  Tessler looked at Wesley, silently inviting him to 
return to his rightful place at the edge.  The young man grinned ner- 
vously and accepted.

And paused at the edge again, looking down.  It really was much too far 
when you looked at it from this perspective.

Behind him, Tessler sighed and winked at the other students.  "Of course 
he doesn't have to *prove* anything to us, does he?" he said, just loud 
enough for Wesley to hear.  But Wesley wasn't listening.  The platform 
seemed to sway beneath his feet.  Just one step forward...

"I guess he really doesn't want to jump.  What do you say, Wes?"  Tessler 
walked right up to the edge with him, and draped a friendly arm over his 
shoulder.  "We'll understand if you don't want to go through with it."  
He turned back to the others again.  "Won't we?"

Wesley closed his eyes.  Be honest, he'd let the others talk him into 
this.  It hadn't been easy being kept back a year; all his friends had 
moved on, but that was the least of it, because he hadn't had many 
friends.  Not after what had happened to Josh.  And now even those who 
had understood had moved on ahead to their final years, and he was stuck 
in the same old classes with the sub-cadets.  The same classes he'd so 
nearly passed with flying colours.

Passed with flying colours...now there was a phrase he'd never use again 
without shivering.  His arm still hurt when he moved too abruptly, a con- 
stant reminder of the flame that had filled his shuttle as the control 
panels exploded.  He'd escaped, but he'd escaped into a world where some- 
body else hadn't.  And he would always share the blame.

He'd grown moody over the last year.  And the assignments and test 
flights didn't help to take his mind off things; on the contrary, he'd 
done them all before, and doing them again was yet another reminder of 
his punishment.  His guilt.

But as far down as he had fallen, there had still been a part of him that 
desperately wanted back up again, and when Tessler had found out that 
Wesley had the day off and had made this offer, he'd jumped at the chance 
to come along, maybe to make friends--new friends, a fresh start.

But it was really a long way down.

"Don't worry, I'm going," he said.  But he didn't even convince himself, 
and he knew then that he wasn't going to jump after all.

Tessler sighed.  "Crusher, Crusher, what are we going to do with you?"  
He patted Wesley gently on the back.

And then stepped off the platform, pulling Wesley with him.

Wesley gasped, shocked out of silence.  Tessler laughed and pushed away, 
falling, but not with him; no, Wesley was doing that all on his own, 
thank you.  For a moment his arms spun as he desperately tried to regain 
his balance...but it was too late, and he fell.

Free fall into nothing.

The ground was rushing at his head, and for some reason he was suddenly 
perfectly calm.  That was it.  The decision was no longer his.  But at 
least someone else was falling with him.  And if he was on his way, he 
was damn well going to go in style.  It was the least to be expected from 
any man (yes, *man*) who had served under Captain Jean-Luc Picard.

He closed his eyes.  Stretched out his arms.  And let gravity take over.

Nothing connected.  Just Wesley, floating serenely in the middle of the 
air.  And the ground rushing up to meet him at top speed.

Nine point six metres per second per second, wasn't it?  His stomach yawed 
wildly in weightlessness.  He reveled in the feeling and a sudden smile 
broke out across his face.  Tessler saw it and laughed with delight.

And then, as they'd both known, intellectually, that it would, the field 
generator in the middle of the cross sensed their approach and kicked 
in.  A buoyant force pushed gently against their bodies.  It was like 
drifting, or falling into a sea of invisible foam.  Their descent began 
to slow, and by the time Wes reached the ground he was almost floating.  
They touched down like angels returning to Earth.

The cadet who'd fallen before them was lying on the ground to one side of 
the target, shaking with exalted laughter.  Wesley took a moment to catch 
his breath and then let out a whoop louder than anything he'd shouted for 
the last two years.

"Not bad, was it, Crusher?"  Tessler grinned and threw a companionable 
arm about his shoulders.  The two cadets staggered off the landing mark 
laughing like idiots.  But not like idiots at all.  Like two men who have 
taken the plunge and survived.

The next day, somebody with a flair for electronics reprogrammed the food 
dispenser in the commissary so that when Tessler requested his dinner it 
sprayed custard all over his fresh uniform.  But he didn't really mind.  
After all, that was what friends were for.

------------------------------------END------------------------------------

Cameron Dixon, "Lemming Wrangler to the Stars"
-- Potato peelings are our friends. --