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Din knelt down on the powdery sand and addressed his companion with all the gravity the situation called for. “I need to know you’re taking this seriously. It’s not a game. Something goes wrong and we could both get hurt or worse. But if you do exactly what I tell you, we both walk away.”
For a second it wasn’t clear if Din’s words were heard, let alone going to be acknowledged.
“I mean it. I need to know you understand me,” Din said.
The child cocked his head slightly, looked at Din, and let out a quiet stream of babble before grabbing another fistful of sand, and watching as it trickled down onto his robe.
“Okay. I’m glad we agree,” Din said.
He scooped up the child and set him gently in the sling. The child cooed.
“You can hang on to these if you want,” Din said, showing the child where he’d sewn some loops into the inside of the sling. “Okay?”
The child inspected one of the straps, giving it a trial grab and a little shake in his fist. “Abababa.”
“Good. And this is going to keep you from falling out. Even if things get interesting,” Din said, as he fastened the split flap down around the child.
That didn’t go over as well, and the child squeaked in indignation. He was used to being able to climb in and out at will, but the flaps, crossing over in the front before buckling to the front of the bag, eliminated that option. There was enough room for a little hand to poke through beneath his chin but it would take serious work for the child to somehow squeeze his way out.
“I know. But it’s safer this way,” Din said. He looped the other shoulder strap over his right shoulder, and then the third around his chest, and gave the sling an experimental jostle. There was still plenty of give, but not so much he’d worry about the sling flying loose, or sliding around into the exhaust jet.
“What do you think. Comfortable?”
Still insulted by his captivity, the child again wedged his hand up through the straps. “Bah,” he said. But the flaps held, and despite the half-hearted effort, the child stayed in the sling.
Thankfully, Din had been able to avoid any need to fly with the jetpack while carrying the child so far. At first he had barely trusted himself with it. It had taken hours of practice and several painful falls (and one painful and humiliating head-first flight directly up into a tree branch) before he stopped hurting himself with it. He’d continued to practice and grew more confident, but was still uneasy at the idea of carrying a passenger, however tiny.
One of the key uses of a jetpack was as an escape from a tight spot. When cornering their prey most hunters didn’t bother to block a vertical escape route. But that was of no use if he couldn’t fly with the kid, and Din now felt confident enough to try it out.
“We’ll take it slow at first,” Din said, for his own reassurance. Slow, and low.
It had taken weeks for his joints to recover from that first, desperate flight on Nevarro, which had been decidedly neither low nor slow.
“Ready?” Din asked.
The child squirmed, but stopped trying to force his way out.
Din ignited the jetpack. With a gentle jump, they were in the air. Din rose slowly, keeping careful watch on how the child reacted. The wiggling stopped and as they rose, so did the ears. There was no sign of panic, just keen interest in the new situation. They’d flown in the Crest and they’d ridden speeder bikes, but this was a whole new perspective for the child. It was being well received.
Straight up was easy. After a few seconds to let the kid take it in,Dine leaned forward and put on a little speed, flying up along the beach.
“You okay, kid?” he asked, raising his voice over the wind and noise of the jetpack.
The response was a shrieking giggle and excited little kick, which hit just below Din’s chestplate. He made a mental note to shorten the shoulder straps a few inches.
“Hang on, we’re gonna turn,” Din said, and accelerated into it, whipping his body around. He couldn’t see the child’s face, but from the ears, he got a good feeling.
They did a few easy laps up and down the beach, a tighter and faster loop low around the Crest, and then Din settled gently back onto the white sand.
The sudden quiet just highlighted the child’s delighted giggling. He made no attempt to free himself. When Din undid the straps and lifted him out, he babbled excitedly, and the joy shining in his eyes was unmistakable.
“You liked that,” Din said, setting him gently back on the ground. There was a cool breeze coming in off the turquoise ocean, and Din felt warmer inside than the weather could account for. The kid was a natural flyer.
The child nodded and then pointed, first at the sling, and then up at the sky. Din recognized the look on his face as craving, more than just a normal want.
“You want to go again?”
The child nodded, and again, pointed up at the sky. “Aapababada!”
Din couldn’t help but grin. Well-said.
Today was just a test. He’d shorten the shoulder straps a little bit, and he still needed to figure out a way to make it faster to get the secondary straps done up. When he needed a quick exit wasn’t the time to be messing around with buckles and clasps. And anyway, fuel reserves were always a top concern. He couldn’t justify flying around just for the fun of it.
The child’s face fell as Din started to undo the sling. His ears drooped. His forehead wrinkled.
Din reminded himself that fuel was always his biggest expense. Running out of it could mean death for both of them. He always had to be careful to keep a reserve.
The child took a few toddling steps towards him and reached up with both arms. “Boo?” he asked, pleading.
Din hesitated, but only for a second. He had plenty of full fuel canisters for now. And it was important to practice flying under different conditions, after all.
He lifted the child back up into the sling, and was rewarded with another joyous giggle.
Maybe this time, they’d go a little bit higher and a little bit faster.