"North Pacific Ocean Flight 119, boarding in ten minutes..."

Already? Jeeze, can't even get a good break in these days.

It annoyed Clarice. So many work hours, so little time for something as refreshing as a simple cup of coffee. Having debts to pay and hellish hours to work had been draining the life from her since she'd first wrapped up school and gotten her gig flying planes for a living. It was fine enough work, that alone didn't bother her, what really drove her crazy was the way the airlines seemed to think its crew were emotionless automatons that could pull twelve hours nonstop without complaint.

Frankly, she was amazed she was even still sane at this point.

"Can't be helped though," she mumbled, downing the last refreshing drop of her caffeinated beverage of choice. Soon she would be off the ground, the only think keeping the flying hunk of metal and circuitry that constituted a plane from nosediving into certain oblivion.

"Wouldn't that be a load off my back. The big dirtnap is sounding awful tempting right about now..."

"Hey, Clarice, something's come up," she heard her co-pilot say, freshly returned from a quick smoke break. "We're getting an Air Marshal. Higher ups said something about last minute information regarding a potential security risk."

"You're pulling my leg?!" She got up, trashing her coffee mug and making herself look a bit more presentable. "Last time I checked, airliners don't just throw an Air Marshal on a flight that's ten minutes from departure. What the hell is going on Blake!?"

"Hey, don't look at me, I don't get it either..." he sighed as she followed him over to a small little gathering of the other on-flight staff. "All they said is something about 'unusual circumstances' and dropped advice about not asking too many question."

"Well, that's reassuring," she said, her tone as sardonic as her mood was soured.

"I think you're putting it a bit generously," he spoke as the pair took their spots in the small gathering, "I gave my wife and kids a quick call just in case. Probably... no... definitely just being paranoid about this, but if some real serious business goes down, I wanna make sure they know I love them in-case I don't get another chance. I suggest you do the same."

"Thanks, but no thanks," she said, shivering at the thought of talking with any of her relatives. She didn't hate them per say, she just didn't care enough to open up that can of worms unless someone was literally on their death bed. And even then, who knows...

It only took a few minutes for the law enforcement agent to walk in, carrying the composed dignified air of a civil servant, all while dressed up like he was a salaryman about to have his day in court. He was bald headed, bespectacled, and had a carry on briefcase by his side, no doubt containing his service pistol.

"Hello there. I am Air Marshal Kaleb Jones. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintances, though I wish it were under more traditional circumstances." He said, pausing his introductory spiel briefly to take off his glasses, idly wiping the fogged up lenses with a rag he withdrew from his coat pocket.

"I'll be frank with you all, there is good reason to believe that a dangerous individual has made their way onto the plane, a real piece of work if my colleagues in traditional law enforcement have hedged their bets right. I can't give you all the details, and I personally think this is for the best. Just rest assured that there is no reason to suspect the plane itself is in any immediate danger, this is more just a precaution to ensure the safety of the passengers and observe the individual in question for potential signs of wrongdoing. That is all."

He put his glasses on, rubbing his scalp with nervous energy.

"Please do remember this though, if any of you see something suspect, don't hesitate to inform me."

He left without another word, walking smartly out of sight, leaving the other staff to gossip with one another about what in the hell was going on.

"Honestly Clarice, I don't know how to feel about this..." Blake admitted as the duo returned to the cockpit. "He said there wouldn't be anything wrong, sure. But, I mean, I've seen enough movies to know how that old song and dance usually goes..."

"You're definitely being paranoid now." Clarice reassured him as they began hitting buttons and flicking switches. "There hasn't been a major airline incident in years Blake, just trust the Marshal to do his job, and do yours without screwing up."

"Yeah, I guess you're right..."

"...It's just, well, I dunno? Feels like we're about to run into some real scary stuff. You feel me?"

Clarice would be lying if she said she wasn't also rattled by whatever nonsense was going on behind the scenes. She just didn't care enough to let it get to her. There was only one thing she needed to do, her job. After that, she'd sleep. After that, she'd wake up. After that, she'd eat. After that, she'd do her job again, so on and so forth till she had enough saved up to finally climb out of the unending purgatory that was her financial situation.

"Today is just like any other day Blake. We pilot the plane, we take it up and off the runway, we fly it through the air, we land, and we punch out for the day... or night... whenever it is that we get to stop working. You get me?"

"Yeah, I get you, loud and clear."

Blake took a deep breath before slapping his cheeks to inject that extra bit of wakefulness into his fatigued body. She felt bad that either of them had to fly, haggard as they were. Still, a job's a job, and if they wanted to keep eating, they'd just have to suck it up and get it done.

"Alright Clarice, you ready to do this?"

"Ready when you are, Blake." Clarice shot back, as she strained her ears, waiting for that final announcement till the show began in earnest.

"North Pacific Ocean Flight 119, now boarding..."

Four hours later, high above the sky, amidst a crimson red sunset, Clarice felt absolutely knackered. Which, somehow, was still far better off than Blake, who looked like he was about to face plant into the plane's controls and take the whole flying machine down with him.

"Oi, Blake, mind rousing yourself?" Clarice asked, shaking his shoulder gingerly, to which the man groggily shook himself back to a higher level of wakefulness.

"What is it Clarice? Need to use the washroom?" He asked, and she nodded. "Alright. Just don't be too long, would rather not doom five hundred or so souls because the higher ups decided to slash our break time. Not superhuman, y'know."

"No more than I am," added Clarice as she started to get up and out of her seat. "Probably going to run into a spot of turbulence with how the weather's brewing outside. If things get choppy, give me a holler, and I'll be right back!"

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"Reliable to a fault. Don't worry yourself Clarice, I got things for now. Just do what you need to do."

She didn't waste another valuable second on idle chitchat. She simply walked as briskly as she could to the lavatory while still maintaining an air of decorum. Just because airliners nowadays lost all respect for their pilots didn't mean she wanted passengers to lose the mythical image of the well paid, dignified, and generally dashing plane pilot. Most still assumed that to be the case for those in her profession, and she'd prefer not to spoil their flight by reminding them of the dreary realities of modern capitalistic society.

Sometimes I wonder why I bother. Communism's never going to go beyond a 'good on paper' concept, UBI is a far off dream, anarchism is just not happening while anything resembling a government is alive and kicking, and goodness knows that theocracy never ends well now matter the intentions behind it. Ugh, at this rate people are never going to be able to just be people.

So caught up in her thought was Clarice that she failed to notice the door to the nearby lavatory closing shut right in front off her face, the lock sliding into place with a deft clang seconds after.

"Don't bother going to the others, Miss Captain. I have no clue what was in the food, but it seems to have made for quite the interesting evening." Said a man just behind her, waiting patiently for his own turn to go in.

"I'd say it was quite bothersome, if it weren't for this opportunity to talk to a woman in uniform. Tell me, what is it like flying a plane? To soar through the skies with the lives of every last soul on board in the hands of you and your co-pilot?"

"Ummmmmm..." She hadn't been expecting for some random passerby to start chatting her up. Beyond that, she wasn't sure if he was infatuated with her job or trying to hit on her with talk like that. Looking at the ring on his finger, she bloody well hoped he was just making ide chitchat, though, he sound far too enthused for that.

"...well, it'd be nice if it paid more." She answered, and his jovial expression soured in an instance.

"Really? Such a magnificent job, and you think money is what it lacks? How droll." He grumbled, grimacing.

"Hey, you can judge when you aren't trying to still pay off aviation school loans after years in the cockpit!" Clarice barked at him, the man jumping back a little at her sudden sharp jab. "It was fun when it started. Then corporate sucked the joy out of it. It's that simple."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he said, now looking quite sullen, almost ashamed at himself. "I should've figured that was the issue. You have my condolences and my wholehearted apology."

Clarice Ferrell took a deep breath in... nice and long and oh so needed...

"...Okay, sure, whatever. Just be chill, I don't need the hassle right now."

"I understand perfectly. My life's story has more or less been nothing more than so-called 'higher-ups' sucking the life and soul out of me with every passing day. And I don't even have the luxury of an interesting job like you do to stave off the morose. Not that I've suffered more than you have... actually... hold on..."

The man was reaching into his pockets now, scrambling to get something before this opportunity passed him by. She was about to excuse herself from the conversation entirely and try her luck with a different loo when he finally took out a pen and check book.

"Five hundred should be good. Not too much, certainly not too little," he muttered to himself as he quickly scribbled down onto the paper and tore it from the check book. "Here, get yourself a warm meal with this once we land. Something fancy. Or maybe pay off your debts a bit quicker, escape your corporate induced hell of mediocre drudgery that much sooner."

"Oh. Um, thanks?" Clarice quickly swiped the check from the wan, which, funny enough, just made him grin like a carefree schoolboy who'd discovered today was a hitherto unknown classes-free holiday.

It felt a bit mean to accept the money, the man seemed a bit loopy, and she wouldn't sleep well knowing she'd taken advantage of some psychological condition if his mood swings were anything to go by. However, Clarice did not intend to look this particular gift horse in the mouth, and wasn't about to insult his kindness by throwing it back in his face.

"Don't mention it There isn't a thing I wouldn't do to make our world that much more interesting. Just do me a favor; once you're done flying for suits and ungrateful passengers, do something wonderful with what talent you have. As to what exactly that might be, well, make that a joyous surprise."

"Yeah... hey... this might sound a bit off... but have we m-"

At last the lavatory door swung open with a forceful rattling and creak of its well worn hinges, its previous occupant hobbling along back to their seat.

"Go ahead cap. I don't mind a bit more waiting." He offered, and she gladly accepted, entering without another word spoken between them. He seemed well meaning enough, she'd even say he seemed like a nice, if weirdly abrasive, man the more she talked with him.

However, she had things to do, and for as pleasant as their exchange had ended up being, something about that guy didn't sit right with her...

Maybe he's the one the Marshal is looking for... she considered, before chucking the stray thought out of mind.

No, he was too generous, or maybe it's because he was so generous that he feels funny to me? Principled people are in short supply these days. Oh well, it really doesn't matter. It's not like I'll ever talk to him again.

She finished washing up, took a moment to straighten out her uniform, and headed brusquely back to the front cabin.

"Well, that took longer than usual... What kept you?"

She sat down and strapped herself back in, eyes scanning over every control.

"Something interesting."

Everything was good. Not a blip off from nominal values for this stage of the flight. Not that she had any real reason to expect differently.

"Well Clarice, let's hope that was the last interesting thing that'll happens all flight. The sooner we get it done and over with, the sooner we can hit the hay."

Normally she'd agree with him whole heartedly. This time though?

She wouldn't mind tempting fate a little.

"True. Although, maybe, we could use a curveball for once? Honestly, I don't see how something interesting popping up could hurt-"

Then everything went white for just a moment, ears ringing terribly, the whole world vanished from sight or sound. Then that moment passed, sight and sound returned. The sight of their controls gone dark, and the sound of the airplane engines failing on them.

"Oh for fucks sakes." Clarice cursed as she fought with whatever analogue controls were left working to keep the plane from plummeting.