After almost two months of non-stop sanitation duty, Fee Green and Tomoko Matsumara were deemed worthy enough to rejoin the training program.

  Fee's first sessions in the 'Little Sparrow' were shaky, resulting in her tearing off a wing during her first landing. The fiery castigation she received from Abignail made her soul weep.

  Everything Fee disliked about the aircraft was magnified threefold.

  She blamed the lightness of the controls, the fact that everything was toy-like compared to the Helix, and the fact that the planes were probably dangerous and better off decommissioned.

  At some point, Tomoko finally had enough of Fee's constant grousing. She reminded her friend that they had literally 'put up with a lot of shit' to redeem themselves in the eyes of Brass. She remarked that 'dangerous and better off decommissioned' summed up her friend's personality to a tee; how lucky anyone else would have been grateful to take her place.

  "So stop being a whiny little bitch and man up. We're on the verge of war, and you're making out like it's a disappointing theme park ride."

  This about-turn in Tomoko's usual laidback attitude surprised Fee; it got so bad that days would pass without the two acknowledging each other. By day five of the deep freeze, they agreed to cease hostilities since no one would apologise because no one was in the wrong. The logic was infallible.

  ***

  Soon, weeks turned to months, and Fee became more invested in dissecting every battle to the point of obsession. She spent more hours in the simulator and soon lit up the high scores.

  The competition became so intense that Amy allowed Poppelwell to give away a prize to anyone who could beat Fee's score.

  Fee was practically setting up camp in Galveston's library, devouring information on tactics and dogfights, learning from historical aces like the station's very own legend, 'White Shark' Geraldo. Some days, old man Ortaga would teach her about avionics in case something had to be rerouted or fixed in the cockpit.

  With Tomoko's help, they would pore over the schematics of every Helix, looking for 'hacks' to give her that extra edge. Fee would apply any fresh knowledge to her training sessions, much to the annoyance of the other Gamers. Everyone was playing catch-up with the girl who once held them back.

  However, not everything went according to plan; mishaps, accidents, and ejections were commonplace until Fee finally scored her first dogfight. On a clear day, she would sometimes buzz the topside control tower to the annoyance of everyone inside.

  "Godamn it, Green. Knock it off!" Was a frequent refrain

  After receiving a promotion, Fee was invited to a naming ceremony and presented with the callsign: 'SPURS'.

  "Spurs?" Amy asked on a recent visit.

  "It's short for: 'Special Pilot Under Regular Supervision'." A nearby Officer explained.

  Amy stifled a laugh with the top of her fist.

  ***

  It was a fine autumn day when Rick mounted the staircase to the female dormitory. He found Fee leaning against the door. She had a gloomy expression as if trying to burn a hole in the fabric of reality. Inside, cleaners in full-bodied protective gear were mopping the floor and throwing bed sheets into a giant bin lined with a green bag. Spotting Rick, Fee snapped off a salute.

  "Sir," She said.

  "At ease, Green," Rick said. "What happened?"

  "Someone let a bunch of birds into our dorm; it was a literal shh...shower show. Now, everything has to be hosed down. Airwoman Matsumara and I are being moved to the storage area."

  "Sounds like a party. Any idea how the birds got in?"

  "I have a few suspicions," Fee said, drawing a beady eye on Lex, who walked past with a wave.

  "C'mon," Rick said. "Nothing you can do here."

  After going through the corridor, they stopped at the nearby catwalk that overlooked the hangar bay.

  They used the awkward silence to buy time until someone spoke. There was no denying that when they were together, the atmosphere felt weighted with expectation, like old enemies wary of the past, neither wanting to be the first to speak. Rick glanced down toward the flight deck.

  "Now that you're a big-time celebrity, how do you feel about all this attention?"

  Fee thought for a while.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  "I never wanted to be famous." She said, raking a hand through her short hair. "Crazy, right? It's supposed to be the dream life."

  "What is your dream life?"

  "I haven't planned that far. I don't know, go into watch repair. On weekends, I'd play guitar in some quiet pub, then drive home in a second-hand shitbox."

  "Fixing watches?" Rick said. "Really?"

  "It fascinates me." Fee said. "Tiny cogs working in tandem, just to tell the right time. It could mean life or death for someone."

  "Yeah, but still, part of you must love the celebrity status."

  There was another brief silence while Fee ruminated on her answer.

  "The worst thing is the constant spotlight. The fact that you're never allowed to be yourself because you gave all that up. Your soul is effectively bar-coded, packaged and franchised. You don't belong to yourself; you belong to the system. A system that will eat you alive while you smile and wave like a dumb ass."

  "A Faustian Pact."

  'I always laugh at people who complain about the price of fame, y'know? You had every chance to back out, but kept choosing the money. You're suddenly telling your 'Woe is me' story from inside a mansion. Shut all of the fucks up, you did that to yourself." Fee crossed her arms. "Talking is hard work; some days my heart's not in it...Sir."

  "Some say the heart is an arrow."

  "Yeah, well, my fist is a missile. Or a Fissile. "

  "Don't call it a Fissile," Rick said. He decided this would be a good time to change the subject. "Is your gear intact?"

  "Not really," Fee said. " It's like someone had a paintball fight with whitewash."

  "Ouch. Well, while you are obviously eager to return to duties, and I find myself in need of a sparring partner,"

  "Yes, sir." She said. "Hand-to-hand or weapons?"

  Rick gestured toward the row of aircraft.

  "I was thinking something a little more heavier."

  ***

  They took off around noon, with Fee piloting a 'Little Sparrow'. The sun was high, and the sky was light with clouds. Ten miles away from the base, they flew wing to wing.

  "We are clear skies and Angels thirty," Rick said. "Good job. I heard you were something of a natural."

  "Aye, sir, the Doc said as much."

  "Yeah, well, don't let it go your head. You keep pissing about it; you're gonna spend the rest of your time on the Sim deck. You've got talent, 'Spurs', but you're reckless. Brass has no time for grandstanding, showboats or glory-hounds trying to prove themselves."

  "I'm just trying to liven up the end of the world."

  "It won't matter if you're not around to defend it. Check yourself in future."

  "Yes, sir, sorry, sir."

  Rick said he peered over to the right. "Speaking of defence, how about a game of 'Chicken chase?' "

  "I am not aware of that game."

  "It's like laser-tagging; zap the pod on the back of my plane."

  "With respect, sir. I have spent hundreds of hours doing that and scored high every time."

  "Hmm," Rick said with a small measure of amusement. "You don't say?"

  Fee's HUD suddenly disappeared, leaving an empty panel. Confused, she gave her console a couple of taps. Nothing. It was a dead screen. In a blind panic, she started pushing buttons and flicking switches.

  "Uh sir, I have lost all visual."

  "No, you haven't," Rick said. "You've lost your HUD, is all; you're not exactly flying blind. It will return once you win the game. We're taking it old school, in the days before computers, y'know? Spitfires, Hurricanes, and Sopwith Camels all relied on line-of-sight. Now it's your turn. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. I always cheat."

  He gave a two-fingered salute and banked right.

  Cursing under her breath, Fee chased him down.

  There was radio silence for the next half hour while the two engaged in a frenetic close-quarter dogfight. Fee tried to keep Rick within sight of her dead HUD panel, but he was too quick, and every time she thought she had a good bead, he would roll out of range.

  She was impressed. All that time, she thought Rick was an average sky jockey; This skill level was worthy of an ace pilot.

  At one point, Rick hit the air brakes, causing her to streak past at a rate of knots.

  By this time, Fee was becoming increasingly frustrated with the slick manoeuvres and her lack of progress. After another failed attempt, she watched the world roll around her and levelled out.

  Breathing deeply, she composed herself, thinking of a new approach. She focused to the point where it almost felt serene.

  Closing her eyes, she thought back to all those hours on the Sim deck, all the books she hoarded, until they cascaded into a pool of knowledge, converging into a white-hot singularity. It was at that moment that she calmed the noise in her head.

  The red and the white, the red and the white. Don't attack where the enemy is, but where it will be. Where will it be…

  Rick expected Fee to radio back in surrender. He was already writing a speech about how she was unprepared and needed to concentrate on being a good pilot rather than a show-off.

  He did not expect to see her rocket out of the sun. It happened so fast that he didn't have time to prepare himself.

  The 'Sparrow' bolted toward him with a keen sense of purpose. He yanked the flight stick back, soaring skyward, trying to outfox Fee by rolling from the field of flashing lights

  For over ten minutes, they flew as one. Rick danced away with acrobatics while Fee kept in lockstep with his movements. The landscape tilted away as she shadowed every outmanoeuvre, almost in tandem. On Fee's side, Rick swayed near the line of sight but never far away.

  His aircraft was larger and more nimble. Halfway into a swan dive, she fired up the laser, which flashed on Rick's tail fin. There was a loud beep, and her HUD was reactivated to her immediate relief. Game over. She exhaled and sat back.

  "Whoo-hoo!" She cried, rolling left until a patchwork of farmlands was perfectly vertical.

  "Outstanding, Green," Rick said, drifting up to her right. "That was some dynamite flying."

  "Thank you for this opportunity, sir."

  "Anytime, Slick," Rick said. "Also, don't think I couldn't hear you singing 'Blurry ' by Puddle of Mudd."

  "I thought I was quiet," Fee said with a light laugh.

  "Yeah, I think you wanted me to hear it."

  An orange sun dipped low on the horizon, smearing the evening sky with a palette of reds.

  "Can I ask you a personal question?"

  "I'll allow it," Rick said.

  "How long were you going to keep this a secret?"

  . "As much as I wanted to - and believe me, I wanted to -I couldn't tell anyone. Not without revealing everything."

  "I'm sure they would have understood in time." Fee said.

  "Yeah, well, I guess we'll never know."

  "I guess."

  Rick gave her a sideways glance. "I just hope things can get back to normal,"

  "I don't think anything will be normal after this, but I would like that too."

  On their way back to base, something high in the atmosphere caught their eyes. A bolt of purple lightning streaked across the evening sky.

  "Now, what do you suppose that is?" Rick asked.