The Pilot (FINAL)

The Pilot

Chapter Midnight:

The plan was a simple gambit. The last place the pilots would expect to look is right under their noses. At the same time, those noses peered down upon the only reliable source of evidence available. The tunnels underneath the Foxtrot had wormholes opening left and right. Hans and Clancy silently hoped one had taken away the days-old corpse sitting near the  entrance.

The office was whisper quiet as the trio stepped out from under cloudy skies. No one looked up from their desks as the desk-entrance was approached. They probably hadn’t even noticed their boss’ absence. George closed the door behind them, barring it with a chair. Hans drew the blinds, and then walked to the door, turning on his heel to face the desk. He exchanged a nod with Clancy.

The button was pressed. Hans started his documentation, taking as many bizarro photos as he could while the desk slid back, wafting up a misty cloud of dust. They descended, not thinking twice. Blind, ignorant confidence would be their friend. The desk closed off above them as they stared down stainless steel halls.

They made it five turns before the stench hit them. Down a dead end hallway they saw the corpse. There was no wind here today, and the lingering smell held hostage memories for ransom. They ran the other way. They didn’t care they were stomping around.

After what felt like hours of wandering, they came upon a terminal perched in the wall. They were thankful, otherwise it would have been yet another dead end. Clancy took a look, “It’s asking for a login.” George stepped up, “My account might still work, let me try.” He typed, and Hans stepped back to take a picture of the futuristic scene.

The computer beeped. George squinted as he read whatever was on the screen. Clancy and Hans peeped over his shoulder, curious. “Strange, these directories weren’t available on other work computers.” They scrolled back through years of internal documents. PAIN had been in the know of these wormholes for or a while. Most of the info was ways they’ve hidden them from the public. A few mentioned future goals to harness this magical force for capital gain. George shuddered when he found his name on a list of possible dissidents put under careful watch. 

Hans remembered Nadia’s promise to the public: Drastically lower flight times. “All the wormholes we’ve seen have been too small for a car, let alone a plane. There’s no way they’re planning what it seems like here, right?” His train of thought was cut when George clicked on another file. The wall started rumbling. It slid up on an oiled assembly, hiding itself in the ceiling, taking the console with it. A new pathway had opened up. They forged onward.

And quickly stopped again. There were voices. Bringing advancements to a crawl, they stealthed towards the source. Bordering their hallway was a massive control room. A dozen or so people crowded blinking lights, and fingers spun rows of dials like a spider spinning silk. 

A door opened near the ceiling. Hans recognized the receptionist from when he visited PAIN headquarters. They’d been travelling for what felt like hours, they might as well be below that building now. The belly of the beast looked a hell of a lot like a Star Wars set. A few more people descended the stairs. A gathering was forming around a slightly raised platform in the middle of the room.

There was a woosh and a thunderclap, and Nadia appeared, stepped out and struck a pose. Her gun smoked as she flicked a finger and struck something on it. The wind stopped. “Hello everyone, welcome to our little celebration. I have to thank all of you on behalf of PAIN, the research you all have done here will catapult each and every one of us into silent stardom.” She brushed the gun with her other hand, eliciting a few claps and cheers from the audience.

“My team on the surface is organising a gala for the release. Another month of hard work, and none of you will ever have to work again.” The receptionist looked ecstatic, but some of the supposed scientists raised an eyebrow. Nadia had an ace up her sleeve. “Of course, I would love to transfer those interested to our new research and development lab.” She promised with a wink. Hans gave her kudos, she could really capture an audience.

Her gentle voice turned to stone, and her medusa gaze turned slowly towards the trio. They ducked fully behind the wall. “Before I hear your progress report, I have some-” She started walking, her smile dropping, “Business to attend to.” She was walking towards their hiding spot.

Panic mode was officially a-go. Hans, Clancy, and George had started slowly shuffling back towards the entrance as soon as Nadia started turning. The problem being, the monitor-sealed wall had resealed itself. They were once again stuck in these halls of psychotic steel. Unlike the last time, there were no foxes or wormholes to bail them out.

Harsh steps neared. Around the corner, a voice. A saddened voice. “Ohhh Pete, you just had to stick your nose in business. Such a shame.” Nadia turned the corner, staring fixated at her mystical weapon. “Such is the price of-” She stopped, suddenly conscious of the three beings in front of her. Confusion struck. “George? How’d you escape?” 

George let loose an “Eeep!” Nadia focused her gaze, zeroing in on Hans. Her eyes narrowed. “You.” She raised the gun, turning a dial as she fingered the trigger. Clancy owed Hans one for saving him the day prior, and he braved a lunge into Nadia’s crimson side. The gun dropped. Hans looked at the camera that hadn’t left his hands since they descended, then up at the gun. He dropped the camera in an all-in dash to swipe the gun from Nadia’s slithering hand. She cursed, and the camera made a loud crack against the steel floor.

Clancy wasn’t a particularly strong man, but he looked puny when Nadia tossed him off of her. George, for his part, threw a punch her way. Hitting a woman, cosmic karma rewarded him with a crack as his knuckles collided with her chin. He cried out in pain. Unphased, she got up on her knee. The three fled before she arose to full stature. They did not want to see her at full stature. A bleeding lip flowed down to her blazer. At least the blood wouldn’t stain its colour-twin. 

They had only one path available. Clancy asked, out of breath, “Hans, please tell me you can work that thing!” Hans was flipping dials and turning little levers as fast as he could. They burst into the control room. Everyone turned to face them. They recognized George, and knew he had turned. Slowly, and in sync, they stepped closer. One man in another pilot’s uniform put his hands up, “Stay put George, tell your friend to put the gun down. This can be resolved.”

Nadia and her bloodied lip burst in after them. Hans looked her in the eyes and pulled the trigger. He couldn’t aim a gun for shit. A beam fired out of the gun and struck the floor in front of Nadia. The gun was knocked up in recoil as he pulled the trigger again, this time hitting the ceiling. Nadia laughed at him, and took a step forward, not looking at the ground in front of her.

Whatever setting Hans had found, it had left wormholes in the floor and ceiling, at both spots the beam had hit. After one step, Nadia felt the floor fall beneath her. She swung her arms out for balance, and tumbled into the portal. Everyone in the room stared slack-jawed as she fell from the ceiling. She fell from it again. And again. 

“Geeeetttttt themmmmm!” She slowly cried from her freefall. She sounded like she wanted to say it again, but her voice gave way to a curdled scream of rare, real fear. She hit terminal velocity. Hans wrestled a few of the settings back to their original, and fired at the platform Nadia had originally appeared on. A new wormhole opened up. All the scientist pilots in the room stared at it. As the screams of their boss reverberated loudly off the flat steel walls, they followed her last instruction. Guns, of the bullet variety, were slowly drawn. 

Acting on one mind, Clancy, George, and Hans jumped into the new wormhole. They found themselves in an airfield. They only made it a few paces before a stream of pilots appeared behind them. George, in his element, grabbed his companions and hid behind a personal aircraft. A little Cessna 152. George beamed. “I can fly this thing!” Hans widened his eyes and looked at Clancy, who responded, “Can you get us out of here? I think I’ll pass out if I take another one of those things.” He stared at the gun in disgust.

George gingerly opened the door and checked the fuel gauge. “I could get us out of here right now.” For the first time, they had what seemed like an obvious out. They climbed in, and George turned on the engine. It roared to life, and through the cockpit they saw about a dozen heads turn towards them. Seeing they’d been duped, the adversarial pilots each ran off to their own airplanes to steal. George steered towards the runway.

The ground fell out below them. The propeller was deafeningly loud, but they’d take it considering the alternatives. Some planes started to follow. George pulled up, and they flew towards the clouds. A minute passed. They entered the fluffy white, moisture condensing on the windscreen. Another minute of uncertainty passed, seeming to last forever.

They burst from the sky, and saw a city below them. Clancy and Hans recognized immediately the Sky Arrow. They were flying above their home, observing from above the happenings of vast and dense lands. They couldn’t see it, but a skulk of foxes, all wearing gloves and goggles, sat in a line along the wing. Some had red scarves flowing in the turbulence. How they withstood the gales, no one would ever know.

Far below, in the city, in a building home to the paper known as the Tradesman’s Tribune, a reporter stared in disbelief at her screen. A memory card recovered, photographs of the most ethereal sort presented themselves to her. They would surely make an incredible exposé.