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Humanity has survived the first encounter with the Kethari, but the danger is far from over. With a damaged alien shuttle already in orbit and few options left on the ground, Eli and the others need a way to follow.

Unfortunately, the only available solution requires a training bomber, a handful of space suits, two empty missile casings... and a very questionable definition of a good idea.

Improvisation is planning performed too late.

—Flight Training Instructor

The bomber was beautiful, which was unfortunate, because they were also probably insane. Eli stood beneath the swept wings staring at the ship. Finn looked up at the massive machine.

“We're really considering doing this?”

“We're really doing this.” Eli had a look of awe that scared everyone.

Martin walked a slow circle around the bomber.

“It's in better shape than I expected.”

“That's because nobody expected to need it.”

Eli climbed the maintenance ladder and opened an access panel. Fuel status appeared on the display next to the fuelling port. He stared.

“Sixty-five percent.”

Finn frowned. “Good or bad?”

“Good.” Eli smiled. “Actually good.”

That hadn't happened often lately.

“Why sixty-five?” Martin interrupted.

“What?”

“Training aircraft are usually parked full.”

Nobody answered.  Martin looked toward the open hangar. For the first time since Bracken Reach fell, he allowed himself to think they might actually reach orbit.

“Enough for orbit?” Martin asked.

Eli nodded. “Enough for orbit. Enough to maneuver.”

“Enough to land?” Finn piped up.

“Probably.”

Finn immediately looked concerned.  The missile bays remained open. Rows of missiles sat nearby on loading carts waiting for a training exercise that would never happen. The sight gave Eli an idea, a terrible idea. Which usually meant it was the best one available.

“No.” Finn hadn't even heard the idea yet. “Just, no.”

“You don't know what I'm thinking.”

“I know you.”

Eli pointed toward several empty missile casings. Finn followed his finger, then slowly closed his eyes.

“No.”

Martin climbed into the first casing. Everyone watched. His shoulders disappeared, then his chest, then most of the rest of him. Only his head remained visible. There was a long pause.

Sophie stared. 

“Martin?” Eli questioned.

“Yes?”

“How is it?”

Another pause.

“Educational.”

“That's not an answer.” Sophie countered.

“It's surprisingly secure.”

Finn looked horrified. “Secure is not the word I would use.” 

Martin disappeared the rest of the way into the casing. His voice echoed from somewhere inside.

“Actually, I believe this may work.”

Eli smiled, Finn groaned.

“Of course he says that.”

Martin emerged several moments later covered in dust, mildly disheveled. And annoyingly optimistic.

“Interesting.”

“No.” Sophie again.  Finn was beginning to think she didn’t know any other words.

Martin pointed into the casing.

“If we line the interior with folded cots, add padding around the shoulders, and secure the access cover...”

Finn immediately interrupted.

“Stop making it sound reasonable.”

Eli took charge, “This is a “next” problem, right now we need space suits.  Martin, Sophie, see what you can round up.” 

Martin and Sophie departed in search of space suits. Eli and Finn remained behind. The empty missile bodies were surprisingly spacious. Not comfortable or safe. Not even humane, but they did have enough space.

“Let’s get these lined.  There has to be an office, or the bay barracks close by.”

Finn started scanning, “There.” he pointed.

The spaceport had become eerily quiet, Martin and Sophie moved through maintenance storage areas, most doors stood open. Equipment lay abandoned. The evacuation had not been orderly. Nothing about Bracken Reach had been orderly for over a week. 

Eventually they found the suit lockers. Rows of environmental suits hung neatly inside.

Sophie sighed. “At last.”

Martin started stacking space suits on the cart.  Three space suits.  Sophie started to grab another.

“No, that’s enough.”

Sophie looked up. “What?”

“You don’t need to come; I need to know you’re safe.”

Sophie stared. “Excuse me?!”

“This is already a terrible plan.” Martin kept loading the three suits. “We need Eli to fly.” He finished loading the first suit. “We need Finn because of his connection”.  He added the next suit. “We don’t need to put you in danger.”

The words hit harder than Martin had intended.  He realized it immediately, too late. Sophie looked at him for a few seconds, then quietly…

“That’s not true.”

Martin frowned.  

She looked away, then back. “Finn is holding it together because he thinks he has a job to do.”  Martin said nothing. She continued. “He jokes, he acts weird, he talks about that thing like he understands it… But he’s scared.”

Martin softened slightly.  Sophie folded her arms. “He thinks if he stops moving, he’s going to think about Adrian.”

Silence. She looked at the pile of suits, then at her father. 

“He isn’t okay.”

Martin watched her, but she continued before she lost her momentum.

“And I…”  She stopped, adjusted, and restarted.

“I think I'm helping.”

Martin stayed quiet, Sophie looked down, then shrugged.

“Maybe I need to be there.”

There was a long silence, Martin looked at her, not as a child, not as his daughter, as someone making a decision.  His expression changed. Very slightly, then, “you’re worried about him?”

Martin looked back at the lockers and loaded two more suits onto the cart.

“Why five?” Sophie noticed.

Martin didn’t answer. She didn’t ask again.

“Let's move.”

She didn't.

“Dad.”

He looked up. “What?”

“Dad, we catch Aion?”

“Hopefully.”

“Then what?”

Martin stopped, the question lingered. Neither liked the answer.

“I don't know.”

Sophie crossed her arms.

“We still don't have a plan.”

“We have a destination.”

“That's not a plan.”

“No.”

Martin reluctantly admitted.

“It isn't.”

She continued walking.

“Let's say we catch him.”

Martin remained silent.

“We board the shuttle.”

Still silent.

“We find Aion.”

Silence.

“Then what?”

Martin sighed. “I don't know.” 

Sophie waited. He looked away.

“Right now, if we catch him, I think we survive first.”

“That's reassuring.” The honesty scared her more.

“It wasn't meant to be.”

Sophie adjusted one of the suit bags.

“Why Finn?”

Martin frowned.

“What?”

“Why can Finn feel him?”

That stopped him. It was a question he had avoided. Not because he lacked theories. Because he had too many and no answers.

“I don't know.”

“You created him.”

“No.”

Martin shook his head.

“I created the framework. That's different.”

“Not really.”

They rounded a corner, Martin continued thinking aloud.

“Finn was there very early.”

“When?”

“When Aion, or the Organic Intelligence first awakened, it wasn’t Aion yet.”

Sophie listened.

“He interacted with Finn repeatedly. Or at least used Finn for sensory input.”

Martin's pace slowed.

“Perhaps Aion doesn't see him as separate.”

“What?” 

Martin considered the idea. “Maybe like an appendage or a sensor. If Aion reaches for Finn…” He stopped for a second. “...perhaps he isn’t “talking”.”

“Then what is he doing?”

Martin looked uncomfortable.

“Perhaps he's checking if a hand still works.”

Sophie stared.

“That's worse.”

“It might be.”

“So Finn isn't special?”

Martin hesitated.

“No.”

Then paused.

“Or perhaps that's exactly what makes him special.”

They resumed walking, the conversation shifted. Inevitably, back to Aion, back to the name. The name still bothered him.

Aion. An eternal cycle, an age. An unending existence. The entity had named itself. Why? And why that name? Another question that remained unanswered.

Unknown.

There it was again, always unknown.

When they returned, Eli and Finn had finished their work. The missile casings sat open beside the bomber. Modified, prepared, and waiting.

Sophie stopped.

“No.”

Eli tilted his head.  He saw the space suits on the cart.

“No?”

“No.” She pointed. “No.”

Martin examined the arrangement. Then nodded. He looked at the missile and then at Sophie.

“If this fails…” He stepped towards the first missile, Sophie waited.  “...I would rather it be me than you.”

Sophie stared.

“You're both insane.”

Martin climbed into one. It was tight, very tight, but it was secure.

“Interesting.”

“That's one word for it.” Finn muttered.

Martin climbed back out. Then frowned.

“Where does the oxygen come from?”

Silence. Everyone looked at everyone else. Finally Eli answered.

“The suits.”

Martin blinked.

“The suits hold six hours.”

“Six and a half.”

Sophie corrected.

Everyone looked at her.

“What?”

“I'm smaller.”

Finn laughed.

Martin did not.

“Launch.”

He started counting.

“Rendezvous.”

Counting.

“Docking.”

Still counting.

“Transfer.”

More counting.

“Return.”

The silence grew.

“That's not much time.”

“No.”

Eli admitted.

“It isn't.”

Sophie crossed her arms.

“No.”

Finn sighed. “We've already established that.”

“No.” She pointed at the missile casings. “No way!”

“That's not an argument.”

“It should be.”

“It isn't.”

“It absolutely should be.”

Finally, she looked directly at Martin.

“You are not climbing into one of those.”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “I absolutely am.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Finn interrupted. “I'll do it.”

Everyone looked at him.

“What?”

He shrugged.

“I was only a recruit.” His voice was casual.

“Eli needs to be in the cockpit.”

He pointed at Martin. “You actually know things.”

Martin frowned. “That's not reassuring.”

“It's the best we've got.”

Eli watched the exchange. Nobody liked the plan. That usually meant there wasn't a better one. Finally, Martin nodded.

“Fine.”

Sophie looked horrified.

“Fine?”

“Fine.”

“That's your response?”

Martin shrugged.

“Apparently.”

Twenty minutes later the bomber no longer looked like a trainer. The extra space suit was packed into the corner of the bomb bay.  No one asked why.  They all had their own answer.

Martin climbed into the first casing. The fit was uncomfortable. The padding helped. Barely.

Eli looked at Finn, Finn looked at Eli. Neither spoke. Finally, Eli smiled. “You're getting in one.”

Finn closed his eyes. “Somewhere Commander Halvorsen is watching this.”

Eli's smile faded slightly, Finn immediately regretted the joke. After a moment Eli nodded toward the missile casing.

“Then let's make sure it works.”

Finn sighed. “Fine.” He pointed at the casing.

“But when historians write about this, I want it clearly stated that I objected.”

Sophie nodded immediately. “I'll testify.”

Finn settled deeper into the improvised cocoon.

“I always imagined becoming a pilot.”

“You are not a pilot.”

“I know.” Finn sighed.

“Apparently I'm a circus performer rocket man.”

Eli climbed into the cockpit. Sophie settled beside him. The canopy closed overhead.  Sophie glanced over and saw that Eli had tucked something into pocket on the dash. The glove.  Folded carefully, thumb tucked inside.  She looked at him.  He didn’t explain.  She didn’t ask. For a moment nobody spoke. Then Finn's voice came over the intercom.

“Can you actually fly this thing?”

Eli hesitated.

“A reasonable amount.”

“A reasonable amount?”

“I'm fairly certain.”

“That's worse.”

A moment later Finn spoke again.

“Can you dock it?”

Silence. Then: “Working on that.”

“Can you land it?”

Longer silence.

“Still working on that.”

Finn groaned. “Excellent.”

The cockpit displays remained dark. Eli began pressing switches. Nothing happened. More switches, still nothing. Finally, something activated when he buckled his harness.

Displays illuminated. The cockpit exploded with information. Altitude. Velocity. Fuel state. Atmospheric profile. Targeting systems. Navigation systems.

Warnings. Lots of warnings.

A dizzying amount of information. Nothing like a drone, not even close. Then he saw it. A switch. A beautiful perfect toggle switch with a small golden label underneath.

Automatic Pilot.

He flipped it.

The display changed. A simplified interface appeared. Eli stared, then shouted.

“YES!”  He realized he had been holding his breath.  He just might not kill everyone.

A loud bang echoed through the intercom, as Finn’s helmet hit the missile casing. “What happened?!”

“I found it!”

The display now showed:

TAKEOFF

ORBIT

AUTO DOCK

Eli grinned.

For the first time all day, he felt hopeful.

Sophie stared at the screen, then at Eli, then back at the screen.

“That's it?”

Eli nodded.

“That's it.”

She blinked.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

A pause. Then Eli smiled. “No.”

Sophie groaned.

“Of course not.”

Eli pointed toward another panel.

“Now we just need to find the Start button.”

Sophie looked at him.

“You don't know where the start button is?”

Eli looked offended.

“I found orbit.”