The interior changed within the last three years. The display was spheric, as in your cockpit was inside a sphere that acted as your eyes. It would help tremendously in combat to know where your enemies are coming from, instead of trying to look at four displays at once. Of course the four screens covered the most important parts, but I could imagine the update helped pilots fight better. I hopped into my seat, which was behind and slightly above the heart seat. Controls changed as well. No more levers or several thousand buttons.

I put on the bracelet and looked at any scan spot.

“Your gloves.” Marlon said as he looked up. “You have to put your hand into the gloves.” He pointed at the rest.

My fingers touched around, trying to feel for any change and then I found it. It was beneath it. As I hovered over it with my hand, a holographic display activated in front of my seat. It asked me to wear the glove. Then once I put it on, it softly pulled back to the rest. Wires connected to the glove and holographic buttons materialized around it. Just when I thought the many buttons disappeared, they returned in a fancy blue.

It activated. This shouldn’t have happened. It felt sour, even though I was glad I could activate it. This way, my mother could worry less about David’s health.

But I kept wondering. After my last test three years ago, I was doomed to never pilot again with only a nineteen percent activation chance.

The display around us loaded the surrounding area. The hangar with our spectators and testers. While I was reminded that I was being tested, I wondered why Marlon was inside here with me. He should’ve proven enough that he was ready and capable of being a proper pilot.

I looked at the instructor who seemed to be speaking, but there was no voice incoming. They haven’t changed that part, for some reason. Activating every single feature by hand was ridiculous, but we can’t invest our researchers into creating software for something our pilots can do. I remembered that from last time. Making the pilots life easier wasn’t mandatory. Defending against Monoceros was and worse was that at times I felt like the soldiers were part of dispensable materials. Especially under the command of tactician Artero.

After I activated the coms, the instructor tasked us with moving and moving to a designated area near the coast and finding a red flag.

Marlon moved the Terran while I had to scout and navigate him to the area. I was his eyes and ears, providing him with information that he needed. Then once we left the hangar, he ran the heavy Terran across the base, for no care about accidentally stepping on people.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

“Hey,” I said. “Be careful.”

He snapped back. “You are my eyes. It’s your fault when I don’t watch where I step.”

Since when did they allow assholes into their ranks? I tapped two buttons to my left, one for scanning moving objects less the size of two meters and tagging them. Once I marked every person around us, I sent them down to Marlon.

Then he stopped moving. “What are you doing?”

“You told me I’m your eyes. I make sure you see what you step on.” I answered.

He continued moving. And this time, it walked instead of ran. “This is stupid. Are you trying to fail us?”

“You should be happy that we even activated it. Last time I checked I shouldn’t even be able to move anything here.” I checked out the other systems inside the mind pilot's seat. Long-range scan, long-distance coms, encrypted coms, count of bullets and status of the Terran. I went through another load of pilot scans and their health, formation display and command list. The least I expected for them to add was the activation chance for pilots. No one under fifty percent would even lift a finger or activate the display. For some reason it had always needed to be above.

Yet, how did I start this up when I was at a mere nineteen? What changed?

We moved outside the base into the ocean. The Terrans, fortunately, had a flight system with two high pressure tanks, as fuel, and metal wings. I said wings. I would argue they acted more as gliders.

I loaded up the location and transferred the navigation as a line that led to our target location. It had been years since the last time I felt the vibration when flying through the sky or each heavy step that created a shape in the ground. Last time I flew, there was no vibration. It was tranquil and quiet. But deep down, I knew that time won’t come back ever again.

Marlon had been quiet since we left the base. Either he concentrated on passing the test or he could not care less about socializing. I hope in his case, it would be both.

He leaned back into his seat and I checked his status. Relaxation.

“I heard about you.” Marlon started. “My ex co-pilot warned me about you. And a bunch of other pilots did too. You are dangerous, they said. And no one would willingly pilot with you.”

I should’ve expected that much. But ex copilot? One from America or one from here, in the Mediterranean sea base? If he knew, then, “Why did you volunteer to pilot with me?”

“I didn’t.” He moved the Terran around a sharp cliff. “And I did. – I had no choice but to redo the test, but I had the choice to pick my co-pilot. And after hearing nasty rumors about you, I thought I’d try to pilot with you.”

“You are mad.” This guy had a death wish. Once I’d lose – Red, everything was red and then it was navy blue with white sprinkles. I shook my head to disperse the unwanted visions. “What if it happens again?”

“Let’s say I won’t let you.”

I clenched the fear out of me, then I mumbled. “I doubt that.”

We moved along the northern coast until we reached the curved cliffside where I used to go every evening. This was our designated location.