Turbulence

"Pilot 2-TG Compromised" rang out from the compact speakers in the darkness of the space. A distorted but distinct and contrite feminine voice sputtering over a blinking intercom.

"Variable 2TG, prepare for contact."

"FPHH whu-" another less professional voice trailed the Operator's announcement, followed by what sounded like the crashing of about a dozen boxes, and a dozen more curses from a recently awoken and frustrated individual.

Operator waited quietly until a clear response of "2TG, up and at 'em" was given.

"Variable 2-TG, while we understand wakefulness proves difficult at times, it is in your best interest to refrain from dozing off during active duty."

"Yes ma'am"

"Are you prepared to engage the Adversary?"

"No, but that's good right?"

"Indeed. permission to admit Variable 2-TG to Prepared status?"

"Sure thing."

"Variable 2-TG, please use official affirmation or refutation when addressing matters of consent.”

A grumble and sigh.

"Affirmative"

"Very well."

A series of lights flickered on across the array of doodads and bulbs adorning the front of my dashboard as the comms went quiet. I had no idea what any of them did, but I took it to mean Variable 2-TG was doing... Whatever it was we were supposed to do. I found it discomforting that we weren't allowed to know more than the bare basics of combatting these 'Adversaries' that posed a threat to us, other than that they were vastly intelligent life specializing in analyzing behavioral patterns and habits, but the coin it brought in did well to dissuade any questions the job brought on.

Well, most of them.

I made a clicking sound in my throat to activate my personal comms system-one of the few actions they told us about in the short orientation we had days ago, then cleared my throat.

"Hello? Operator?"

a quick bust of static in my headset, then the cold, clear voice again,

"Variable 5-AW."

She was always so professional when she spoke. I fancied the idea that she had been a accountant or a secretary before, but she never answered any of my questions about her past.

That didn't stop me from trying.

"Last guess- scam artist?"

"Variable 5AW, please keep all interpersonal conversations to a professional degree"

"This is professional- I'm talking about professions"

"5-AW, people are dying"

"Correct, I AM dying to know if you tricked someone out of thousands of dollars"

"5-AW." cold chiding, slight appall, (incredulous even,) but did I detect a hint of a smile in the tone?

"Ah, sorry, official affirmations, right? Affirmative. I am dying to know if you posed as an Algerian princess for thousands of dollars."

There was a notable pause on the other line. Not static, but the distinct lack of audible noise that told me Operated had muted herself. A reaction! I felt elation build within me. This was progress.

"Operator, did I get it?"

"Pilot 5-AW, Compromised." was her reply. Not on my personal headset, but from my dashboard again. General Comms. It was back to the cold, indifferent drone from before, not non-committal, but void of all emotion.

I felt my sense of accomplishment curl into a fetal position and die.

There were dozens of Pilots names out in the past few days, but I had never been put on anything but Standby.

I drummed my fingers on the dashboard as the ancient cube-like speaker on my dash crunched out the rest of the protocol call and responses.

"5-AW, Are you prepared to face the Adversary?"

"No, I have no idea what the hell is going on.”

"Good. Permission to-"

"Operator"

"5AW? is something wrong?”

"Judge?"

"Pardon?"

"Last last guess. Judge?"

"5AW, I hardly-"

"Last guess." My voice caught on the word 'last'. the tapping of my fingers was drumming like the sputter of a dying plane. I was vaguely aware that others tapped into the line could here me, desperately clinging to a greased pole of a conversation, but my rising panic did well to make that far less concerning than the familiar. There was a weight to that “last” now. Massive enough to swallow the silence and crush it into a dark noise that permeated the space between radio crackle.

The Operator was quiet again. distinctly not muted, but silent all the same. I saw an array of glowing bulbs and flashes of lights that told me I might not get an answer before I went.

I did my best to clear my head as a series of clicks and a growing hum of digital interface came to life around me. My jaw involuntarily tightening as a sudden jerking motion shook my insulated seating, and a pitch black array of metallic plates slid over each other with the elegance and regality of a rusted garage door, retreating into some unseen entrance at the base of the paneling behind me. Bright orange sky thick with debris and smoke enraptured my vision as the open horizon unfolded before me.

For a brief moment, some part of me, defiantly distant from the anxiety and fear slowly coiling around my veins tried to take in the view. Mist-filled clouds scattered like birthmarks on the body of sky endlessly reaching into the horizon. Not a bad place to… do whatever it is I’ll be doing.

A scream of interference erupts from the dash and pulls me violently back into myself. into the cramped cockpit with the drone and clean wirrs of machine firing on all cylinders. The scraps of hardened leather crossing against my chest holding tight against my chest heaving from the wave of adrenaline swirling with terror and expectation.

"5-AW." The Operator's voice- that chilled, constant cold calm over the intercom again. I had been distracted.

She could have just started saying my name, but I got the feeling she had said it a hundred times. I had no doubt every time would have sounded the same. I took solace in its noise. Familiar.

"5-AW here- Affirmative."

"Variable 5-AW, your Pilot is compromised." She continued without a hitch, drawing my mind from the roaring of wind beginning to scream around me.

Controls and analogs I had never witnessed before emerged from darkened ports, some of which buzzed or whooped, all adding to my increasing panic. This was real. this was happening.

"Permission to to admit Variable 5-AW to Prepared status"

Another drop of my stomach as my cockpit hissed, then rotated quick and smooth over some internal axis, swapping me with another pill-shaped shell I could only assume held the Pilot. Compromised. I didn't even know what that meant. Why didn’t I think about this before? Was he dead? Am I going to die?

"Permission granted" I felt myself say.

My lips felt numb and the pit of my stomach was pulsing with heat.

"Very well" The Operator responded.

I sucked in a breath, held it, then shot it out. Drummed my clammy hands against the imposing looking handles before me in what I hoped was the correct position as the cockpit locked into place. The burning horizon was disturbed by little floating black dots in the beyond, slowly growing closer.

The Adversary.

I jerked the controls east. The machine whirred and responded in kind with efficient compliance. The growing blips in the distance mirrored me, jutting a second later to the right. Odd.

"Variable 5-AW"

"I'm ready, Operator" I said, sounding much more brave than me or the bile amassing in my throat felt.

"Go, Rodger, Affirmative, whatever."

"I was a Prosecutor."

"What?"

"My previous occupation was Lawyer. A legal representative."

My throat made a sound more like a cat choking on its tail than a laugh.

"So i was right with Judge?"

"You had been close."

had.

I flicked the controls again. This time north. Once more, my movements were mirrored in the distance. Darkened silhouettes between me and the glowing horizon swam upwards to match me.

Their movements were a bit less jittery this time.

"I was right"

had been. has been

"Close."

"You sound like you're smiling"

"You sound like a child"

you’re gonna die.

"Affirmative"

There was a scoff this time, barely audible. I grinned, despite myself. The dots in the distance actually looked like machines now. I could see their roaring metal engines spewing thick smoke into the clearer sky. More blinking and signals tugged at my attention.

"Wish me luck, Operator?"

I twisted the controls and my vision swam as the whole world corkscrewed downward into a sea of grey. My hands trembled as tight fits over the dark controls as they gleamed in the sudden light.

"Good luck 5-AW."

THE END