Andy’s warm gaze watches everything and reveals nothing. “We’re on schedule,” he says. “You wanted to get into more advanced techniques. First step is to understand why you need them. Basic blocks don’t work on a fighter like Mylo.”
“Like Melinoë, you mean,” she says.
Andy doesn’t answer, but beckons her out of the fuselage. He walks her through some techniques that will give her more agility while I spend some more quality time with the fuselage. It’s full of little nooks and handholds I can use, and I can’t wait until it starts spinning.
While Christine and Andy are still busy, it’s a good time to explore the outside of the rig.
I lean out the door and grab the top of the doorframe. Using nothing but my grip on the smooth metal, I pull my legs up and around, kicking off the wing to flip myself onto the roof.
A glance over my shoulder catches Christine looking at me. I smirk.
I might be showing off a little.
Andy scolds her to bring her attention back to him, and to avoid Andy’s ire myself, I drop to the other side of the fuselage, getting a hang of the wing there.
While Andy and Christine keep working, I call over to Pauli and have him twist the rig to a couple different angles. It’s mesmerizing to watch the jointed robotic arm spin, able to achieve any angle. I test my grip around the edges of the wings, having Pauli gradually tilt the fuselage to lift the wing I’m on. As the plane body tilts, incline becoming steeper, its surfaces provide even more options for springing and kicking off.
“How do I get one of these for my apartment?” I call over to Pauli, and he laughs as Andy signals him to reset the rig. I slide down the wing, through one door and out the other, landing next to Christine and Andy.
That I did for fun and not to show off, I swear.
Andy soon has us back on our marks in the fuselage.
Christine wears a serious, focused expression.
I offer a casual smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you this time, princess.”
Her jaw twitches. “Don’t you dare.”
“Suit yourself.”
Andy calls, “Go.”
I reach up and grab a conduit on the ceiling, pulling my weight up and evaluating my angles. I swing myself overChristine’s shoulder, and this time she anticipates it, stepping back and around to keep away from me.
“Better,” I say.
I make a few other passes, not truly going for the ribbon, but getting a hang of how Christine is moving now. She turns and steps back, trying to make use of the limited space in the plane to maneuver.
I pull up again, this time hooking my pointed foot through a loop of cable so I can crawl along the ceiling, dropping my top half down to grab the ribbon before whipping my legs under me and landing in a crouch.
“Don’t feel bad,” I say, handing the ribbon back to her. “It’s hard for any amateur to keep up with a professional.”
Christine takes the ribbon and ties it back to her strap. “Again.”
I glance over Christine’s shoulder at Andy, and he nods.
Now the real puzzle begins. I’m no longer trying to get the ribbon, but Christine is now mobile enough that I can manipulate her movement. Her defenses are earnest, and my attempts look convincing as I push and pull her around the fuselage.
The first minute, she’s focused. The second, she smirks. By the third, her smile fades, sinking into a grimace as she realizes I’m toying with her after all.
“That’s good,” Andy says. “Let’s add the movement.”
Andy signals to Pauli, and the fuselage starts moving through its programmed track at half-speed. This makes my job both easier and harder. Easier because I have more angles to use, more ways to catch Christine off-guard. I’m figuring out which angles get her to twist around the fastest, which blocks will look the best for the camera.
It’s harder because I have to track not only mine and Christine’s changing positions in space, but the fuselage as well.
We go through another few passes, Andy giving notes and adjustments each time, following us on the sand.
