I stand on the edge of the world, watching the clouds swirl beneath my feet. A storm is forming in the cloud layer below, and as I watch, the first lightning bolt arcs upward, striking one of the metal poles underneath the island. There’s been talk of dismantling the rods and repurposing their metal for the island’s current shortage, but if those rods disappear, so does our primary source of power. That doesn’t stop the talk though; people will be people.
I take a step back from the edge: not even I’m crazy enough stand near the edge of the island during a lightning storm. Even this high up, the smell of rain and iron starts to permeate the air, and though no water falls on my head, if I strain my ears, I can hear the faint sound of rainfall cascading downward from the clouds below. Every so often, a crackle joins the sound of the far-off rain: wasted power, striking the ground far below. I sigh and try to think about anything other than politics. The atmosphere around me hums with the aftermath of the lightning’s electricity. I stand still for a moment, letting that buzz flow through me, my hair standing on end, and my body somehow feeling both jittery and completely calm at the same time. I take another shuddering breath of the rain-scented air: in and out, just like I’ve practiced, clearing my mind of all distract—
“Nick! Nick, move that lollygagging behind of yours up to your turret! How many times do I have to hammer this into your thick skull before you understand! Out of all the Operators, you should know—”
With a swift motion I flick the radio’s power switch to “off,” giving me an extra moment of peace before MacKenzie remotely overrides my radio. He’ll be mad, but what else is new? Sure, he could go and rattle the higher-up’s cage, but they’ve got bigger problems than little old me to worry about at the moment.
I look out over the dark floor of clouds below one more time and try to take just one more calming breath. Of course, it doesn’t work, and I end up choking on air like an idiot. MacKenzie has ruined my moment of clam once again. Muttering to myself, I start the uphill walk back towards my Turret, the ground shaking ever so slightly as the lightning strikes start increasing in intensity. As I climb, my radio crackles again, and this time MacKenzie doesn’t even bother with full sentences. Even through the radio’s crackling speaker, I can hear him resisting the urge to bite my head off. At the moment, the feeling is mutual.
“Barnes. Turret. Acknowledge.”
There is the briefest of pauses, and then the loudest sound I’ve ever heard from a radio comes blasting out of the speaker.
“NOW!” he yells, and I thrust the radio away from me, wincing. If I didn’t want to strangle him earlier, now I definitely do.
Still, I know that if I want to keep my eardrums, it’d be best to respond quickly.
I lift the radio up to my mouth, pressing down the talk button and imagining the button is MacKenzie’s face. The picture makes me smile, and I feel some of my previous calm return. I clear my throat and try to make my tone as diplomatically neutral as possible.
“Barnes here. Acknowledged.”
I fail miserably. Even to my own ears my voice sounds snarky.
“BARNES! WHERE IN THE NAME OF SWEET CALEO HAVE YOU BEEN?!”
Apparently, MacKenize hears it too. I hold the speaker a little farther away from my mouth. It’s at times like this where I wish I had a portable Commline. At least then I could turn MacKenzie down without having to worry about breaking an antique. But no, material shortages will be material shortages, and the higher up’s have more important things to worry about than my loss of hearing. If I had my way, I would have them take that concern and shove it up—
“PAY ATTENTION WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU BARNES! GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE CLOUDS AND LISTEN!” MacKenzie’s wonderful voice snaps me back to reality. My dance with the radio has led me the base of my Turret, and once again, I wonder at the way my body can act without me noticing. I can’t complain though: it was what kept us Operators alive.
Supposedly.
I take the steps two at a time now, the wind speed starting to edge into worrying territory.
“…but maybe if you responded when you were supposed to like Jenna does then you might…”
I can almost feel his stubby finger jabbing into my chest as he speaks. I start to tune him out again, but he catches my attention when he mentions the buzz.
“… and that’s another thing! You need to stop abandoning your post when the storms hit Barnes! I know you get some kinda thrill from the lightning’s buzz, but that’s no excuse to—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know MacKenzie, keep a lid on it.” I pause for a moment to catch my breath. Why do these stairs feel longer each trip up?
“Don’t you have better things to do then yell at me all day?” I say.
MacKenize sighs theatrically. At least, that’s what I think he does. All I hear from the speakers is a squawky, drawn-out hiss. Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past MacKenzie to hiss at me.
“Look, you’re a good Operator, Barnes, but I’m getting real tired with these shenanigans of yours. Keep abandoning your post and actin’ outta line, and not even your L.O.F.T. survivor status will save you from a court martial.”
I finally reach the door, pulling my ID card out of my pocket and speaking to MacKenzie as the door slides open with its annoyingly chipper tune.
“How many times have you threatened me with that? And how many times has nothing happened? Face it, you need me MacKenzie. You and the council both.”
MacKenize sputters a few choice words as I set the radio down on a nearby table. He continues to point out some very interesting character traits of mine as I shrug on my standard issue Turret Operation Pullover™. It’s while I’m putting on my standard issue Turret Operation Gloves™ that MacKenzie’s stream of thinly veiled threats abruptly cuts off, replaced by the dulcid tone of radio static. I enjoy the MacKenzie-free air for a precious few seconds before the radio crackles, and my moment of peace is over.
“Dammit,” he says, and I can hear the annoyance disappear from his voice, replaced with a focused determination characteristic of a Turret Dispatcher.
“The interference is picking up faster than normal this time ‘round. Startup the Turret and switch over to—”
“Commline three, I know.” I grunt, pulling on the rest of my uniform with renewed speed. if the radio’s going out, then things are going to get bad real soon. “Give me a minute.”
MacKenzie’s voice comes through the radio speaker intermittently now, and I’m only able to catch every other word or so.
“Hurr–––p! Radi––fail––g, pos–––ble Gu––di–n att–––”
MacKenize’s voice fades out completely, filling the air with radio static. I curse and sprint to the ladder leading to the Turret firing station, grabbing the access key from a totally legal open hook by the ladder. I put it between my teeth as I pull myself up rung by rung.
When I reach the top, I slide into the Turret Operator Chair™ and throw the headset I left dangling from the ceiling around my neck. The headset is barely holding itself together, but it’s still a better connection that that old hunk of metal downstairs. I can already hear the faint voices of the other Operators sounding off from the headset’s speaker. I put it on just in time to hear the monotone automated voice calling out my number.
“Turret 2, acknowledge.”
“Ahckmoleged” I sputter, before realizing I still have the key between my teeth. “Acknowledged, Acknowledged!” I repeat, yanking the key from my mouth, hoping that the voice received my confirmation.
“Turret 1, acknowledge.”
I grunt, sliding the slightly soggy key into the starter slot. I turn it just as Grayson responds in his flat, almost bored way.
“Turret 1, standing by.”
My Turret rumbles to life, the screens lighting up around me, awaiting my orders on what to blast and how hard to blast it.
“All Turrets, stand by for dispatcher.” The voice pings once, then MacKenize’s voice sounds through the headset. I continue flipping switches as he gives us one of his typical clipped briefings.
“Alright lads and lassies, we’ve got a problem on our hands. That storm is much larger than the Caleo-crackpots predicted it to be, which means one thing.”
“Guardians.” says Mitchell. The kid just joined us a few days ago, so I still haven’t gotten a good read on him, but he seems like a nice kid. I wonder what he did back in the capital to get himself suck with us.
“Correct. Well, probably.” I can almost see MacKenzie leaning forward in his ancient squeaky office chair, that look of anger usually reserved for me directed at something else for a change. “But if they do show up, then it’s our job to blow those purple machines outta the sky.”
“Sir.” Jenna, the ace amongst us, interrupts. She and I go way back. I still remember coming back to her after the L.O.F.T. mission, and—
“…direction they’re coming from?” she finishes.
I shake my head and focus back on the task at hand. I’ve almost finished the initialization process for my Turret, and I once again thank my muscle memory for doing my work for me.
“Good question Operator.” I hear the chair squeak again as MacKenzie readjusts himself.
“Short answer, no. My answer, the south. Lightning’s hittin’ pretty hard over there, so I’d bet from over there. It’s a feast to those blasted things.”
“Over in L.O.F.T. boy’s territory, huh?” I can hear Callen’s smirk through the headset. If there’s one guy who causes more trouble than me, it’s him. I still don’t know how MacKenzie manages to put up with two smart alecks.
“Quiet.” says Grayson, the only Turret pilot stationed here before me. I like him.
“Callen’s right.” MacKenize’s voice shifts to a tired annoyance. “Nick, your Turret online yet?”
“Almost—” I flick one last switch, and a flashing ‘Primed’ icon appears on the screen in front of me.
“—done. Primed and ready Dispatch.” I press the button, and the manual turret controls unfold from beneath the desk. Besides Grayson, I’m the only one who bothers to use manual anymore. Jenna might, but she was always more of a haptic girl.
“About time!” says Callen, snickering, and I resist the urge to remind him of proper communication protocol. Jenna though, does not have my restraint when it comes to breaches of procedure. It’s a wonder the two of us are still friends.
“Callen, need I remind you of the Commline Communication™ guidelines? Rule 3 is to avoid unnecessary air traffic during Turret operations—”
“Oh yeah?” he says, and I can feel his jab coming from a mile away. “Is there anything in that fancy rule book of yours that tells you how to deal with desertion? Since I’m sure Nick would love to hear about that.”
“That was uncalled for Callen,” says Jenna. “Need I remind you of your—”
“EVERYBODY SHUT IT!”
I flinch, my headset mic wobbling at the sudden move. Even with the compressors in place, MacKenize still finds a way to be as loud as possible.
“I DON’T WANNA HEAR ANOTHER PEEP OUT OF YOU TWO UNLESS IT’S ‘YESSIR’ OR ‘NO SIR,’ GOT IT?”
“Yessir,” replies Jenna, followed a second later by Callan’s more subdued, “yessir.”
“GOOD!” MacKenize clears his throat, returning to his normal volume.
“Nick, I want you on high alert. Use that experience of yours to get the drop on those purple buzzards.”
I grimace at the subtle jab, and from Callen’s quiet snickering, I can tell he got it too. MacKenzie graciously ignores Callen’s slip and continues speaking.
“Grayson, you’re the next closest to the breach zone, so you’ll be on clean up duty if needed. The rest of you lot, I want in standby mode only. Caleo knows that the council will be up in arms ‘bout the energy loss if we have every Turret at full power ‘for no reason.’ Do I make myself clear?”
A chorus of acknowledgements come from the rest of the Operators. Mitchell’s comes in last, and I can hear the kid’s nerves. MacKenzie apparently hears it too and tells the kid to switch Commlines.
“The rest of you, no slacking about, ya’ hear?”
He signs off before any of us could reply, leaving the four of us staring out our rusty windows, tensed and waiting for the slightest sign of trouble.
The silence doesn’t last. Callen can only contain himself for so long.
“So, what’d you do this time Nick? Mac is only that wound up when the two of you’ve had a spat.”
“Leave him alone Callen.” Jenna responds, her normally calm tone replaced with exasperation. “You know you’re not that much better. If I remember right, you got Mac so mad he threw a radio at you, did he not?”
Callen laughs, a nasal, almost sneeze-like sound that comes through the headset in high-definition quality.
“Be that as it may, you have to give it to ol’ L.O.F.T. boy here; even I could only dream of coming close to his level of annoyance.”
I grip the control sticks tighter, my knuckles turning white with the effort. I desperately wish Callen would stop talking, but his voice drones on.
“I mean, I’m surprised that MacKenzie’s still keeping you around. We all know what happened with L.O.F.T, which makes me think that he’s only keeping you around for trophy points.” He laughs again, and I grip the control stick tighter.
“If I were you, I would keep in mind that he can sack you anytime he wants. In fact, I think he would be justified in doing so. I mean, if it were up to me, I would—”
“SHUT UP CALLEN!” The words are out before I can stop them and are followed by strings of expletives. I would worry about the others, but they’ve all heard worse from me.
I feel like I’m just getting warmed up, but before I really get going, a calm, collected voice rises above my insults.
“That’s enough.” Grayson’s voice comes through the comms, and we immediately shut up. None of us dare interrupt Grayson.
“Project L.O.F.T. was an unfortunate accident, and I’m sure Nick did everything in his power to ensure a successful operation.” His collected tone is a stark contrast to the emotions bubbling up inside me. “He can hardly be blamed for the way things went.”
“But—” Callen sputters.
“No buts, Operator 4. As for you Operator Nick, even if your reaction was justified, that doesn’t mean Operator Callen deserves your slander. We are all here for the same reason, are we not?” Neither of us gets a chance to reply before he goes on.
“I recommend that we listen to Dispatch and stay vigilant. Keep Commline three clear. If you spot a Guardian, warn us immediately. I’ll catch Mitchell up once Dispatch finishes talking to him. Sound good?”
One by one, we agree. Jenna’s voice sounds worried, while Callen’s agreement couldn’t sound more angsty if he was teenager. I respond last, still fuming from the exchange. A light blinks on the Comm panel, and I can immediately tell it’s Jenna wanting to talk to me. I push the decline button and just stare out the window instead.
The roaring of the wind outside and the faint sound of lightning and rainfall waft in from the outside world. Part of me hopes that Guardians do show up; at least that would distract me from the past threatening to overwhelm me. I look out at the darken clouds, and memories start flooding back, despite my desire to stop them.
———
“Green Two, status! Report now!”
I grunt in reply, my arms straining against the control stick, barely pulling the Bird out of the air. I grimace as the Gs flatten me in my command chair, and what feels like a whole world presses down on my chest. After a few seconds of lung-constricting pain, the weight lifts, and I’m gasping for air, desperately hoping to restore some sort of feeling to my chest.
“Green Two! Green Two, respond! Dammit Barnes, snap out of it! You got Guardians on your six!”
I blink, and in a rush, my senses return to me and I grab the stick, yanking it out to the side just in time to avoid flying straight into one of the purple machines. For just a moment, I stare into its glowing red eyes, and I swear I see it blink at me. Years of training take over as my mind races to recover from whatever just happened, and out of sheer instinct, I reach over and flip an orange switch labeled “comms.”
“Green two responding. What’s our status Dispatch?”
“Barnes!” I hear the relief in her voice, though its quickly replaced out by a tone of desperation.
“We’re not doing great out there. Whatever those things used to knock out our Birds was effective as all hell. You and Green One were the only ones to recover in time.”
“James is okay?” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, then the gravity of what I was just told sinks in.
“The only two? Sweet Caleo Jenna, we’re the only two left?” Two left. Two against hundreds, if not thousands. But those two are the best pilots on Caleo. I take a shuddering breath and try to banish the thoughts of the fallen pilots. Thinking like that is what gets a man killed.
Jenna’s sighing cuts through my reverie, her words confirming my thoughts. “You’re the only L.O.F.T. pilots left, but you’re the best ones we got. Succeed or fail, you two are the last sky-worthy Birds we have on Caleo.” She pauses for a second. “I’m sorry it had to be you Nick, but that’s just how the cards fell. I wish I could help more, but…”
“Patch me through to James.” My voice sounds harsh even to my own ears, but in the moment, I don’t care. I have one goal in mind.
“Patch me through Jenna.” I repeat myself, not trusting myself to saying anything else.
“Nick, are you—”
“Jenna. Please.” My voice cracks for a second. “Patch me through.”
There’s another pause, this one just a little longer, but it feels like an eternity to me. I shoot down two more Guardians before she responds.
“Fine. Don’t do anything stupid, you hear me Nick? I’m not losing anyone else, got it?”
“Acknowledged.” I say, pushing the sky bird down to avoid another Guardian before blowing it up from below.
“Nick, I…” She takes a deep breath “Good luck Green Two.”
“Thanks Dispatch. Green Two out.”
I barely have time to switch mental gears before James’s boisterous voice comes blaring through the comm channel.
“Nick! Thank goodness you’re okay! What’s our status?”
“We’re the only ones left buddy.” I say, deciding not to beat around the bush any longer.
“W-what?” His excitement fades away in an instant, and I can tell that the news shook him to the core. He was friends with almost every pilot on Flight Force. Green Force especially was like a second family to him.
“I–” he swallows, and I can hear the trembling in his voice as he speaks. “So, what do we do now?”
“The only thing we can do: complete our mission.” I point the nose of my Sky-Bird towards the swarm of Guardians. “Those things have a fiery judgment long overdue, buddy. Let’s give them the hammer.”
I can hear steel come into in James’s voice as he settles his Bird next to mine.
“You’re right Nick. For Flight Force.”
Even though I can’t see him, I feel his gaze on me through the walls of our Birds. His next word are ones that I can never forget, no matter how hard I try.
“I’m counting on you Nick. I know you’ve got my back.”
“Right back at you James. Let’s give these things hell.”
We swoop in, James leading the way, guns blazing. I follow him from behind, taking shots at the Guardians he missed. Even as we blast our way through their frontlines, I can tell we’re fighting a losing battle.
“There’s a lot of them!” James’s noticed it too.
“Just stay in formation!” I bite into the comm, my face clenched in concentration as gravity presses down on me once more. “There’s one on your six James!”
“I see it.” He says, and spins his Bird around, rolling above and behind the Guardian and blasting it to pieces.
“Nice shot!” I say, before blasting away at few more of the Guardians around him. My earlier hesitation falters for a moment. Maybe we really can fight through this, maybe we can–
My viewport goes white, and I’m blinded by a sudden flash illuminating the sky in front of me.
“Caleo’s depths!” I hear James swear on the comm as the lightning blinds him too.
“I can’t see Nick, I can’t see!” His voice takes on a frantic edge, and I can hear sounds of erratic breathing coming though his comm.
“What do I do, Nick?! Where are they, where are they, where—”
The screech of tearing metal cuts off his words, and my vision clears just enough to see one of the purple creatures cutting directly through one of the wings of his Bird.
“JAMES!” I yell, and push my Bird down towards him, the ship groaning in protest. I get close enough to see his terrified face in the cockpit before a second Guardian forces me back up, away from James.
“Nick! Nick, where’d you go?!” I hear his voice, now full of fear and dread.
“Nick, I need your hel—”
The comm cuts out, and I swing my ship back towards him just in time to see his cockpit get cut in two by one of the Guardian bastards.
I scream, but I can’t hear anything.
I shoot, but I can’t feel my hands.
I don’t know how I survived. I don’t know how I got back to Caleo in one piece.
All I know is that I made it back and James didn’t.
Because of me.
———
The headset chimes, bringing me out of my stupor. The sky looks noticeably daker now, and I can’t help but think something horrible is coming. Of course, as soon as I the thought crosses my mind, the headset beeps again, indicating I have a message on Commline four. I look at it, and upon seeing who it’s from, I contemplate ignoring the notification. But I know she won’t take no for an answer. Groaning inwardly, I accept the call with a button press, establishing a private connection to Jenna’s Turret.
Before she can get a word out, I start speaking.
“I know what you’re going to say Jenna, and while I appreciate it, I’m not really in the mood to talk right now.”
A sharp, barking laugh escapes her, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve said something wrong. My suspicions are confirmed with her next words.
“Talk? Please. You know me well enough to tell when I’m going to be doing all the talking. So listen up! I know Callen gets under your skin like no one else can, so I’m letting you know, as your oldest friend, to pull yourself together for Caleo’s sake!”
I blink.
“What?” I say.
“Look.” She says “I know you blame yourself for L.O.F.T.’s failure and James’s death, but the way you’re dealing with it has to be one of the absolute worst ways possible. I mean, pushing everyone away, and closing yourself off to everyone? Do you want to know how many times MacKenize has tried to tell you? Grayson? Mitchell? For Caleo’s sake, even Callen’s tried to talk to you!”
“I—”
“Shut up and listen Nick, I’m not done yet. You’re treating everyone who wants to help you like a jerk, wallowing in your own pity instead of considering what anyone else has to say for even a damn moment! Hell, Nick, you’ve even treated me like crap these past few months! It’s like you’ve forgotten James was important to me too! But despite that, despite being just as at fault as you are, I am not handling my grief like a drama star! The way you’re acting is damn selfish, and I’m tired of you pretending this has only affected you.”
Jenna pauses, takes a few measured breaths, then mutters, “That’s all,” and hangs up.
Now, once again, I’m left alone with my thoughts. My first instinct is to write her off and push her words aside. But I can’t shake the truth in Jenna’s words. Of course, I don’t want to see it, but it can be hard to ignore what’s right in front of your face. I took this Operator position to hide from those who wanted answers, but I should’ve known that one day Jenna would’ve finally had enough.
I look out at the sky, the clouds seeming to swallow all the light around them, and I imagine I can feel the lightning’s buzz inside my Turret. Any second now, MacKenize will open the Commline and tell us Guardians have been spotted, and we’d had best say our prayers. But surprisingly, I can’t focus on that right now.
Jenna’s words swim in my head, and her face floats into my vision. James’s face is next, then MacKenzie, then Callen, then every Bird pilot I’ve seen die. Not for the first time, I wished remembered their names.
They blur together, and I hold my head in my hands, tears moistening my palms. My breathing gets funny, and I barely register the sound of the emergency alarm ringing in my ear.
The headset crackles, and I know that, in a moment, I’ll have to decided: the truth or my delusion. I close my eyes and think on James. He would hate the way I’ve been acting, and he would let me know it.
I rub my eyes on the back of my hand and look out the viewport. A swarm of Guardians pour from the interior of the black clouds ahead, lightning forking across the entire sky. Strangely, a sense of calm washes over me, and I realize Jenna was completely and totally right. I am a jerk.
The comm rings again, and I take a breath. This time, I exhale slowly, trying to release my anxiety with that breath, trying to feel the calming buzz of the lighting from inside my Turret.
I wait a moment, then assess how I feel.
Hm. Better, I guess.
I breath in again, and on the exhale, I press the comm button, opening up a channel to every other Turret.
“This is Barnes. I’m ready.”
