It's A Deadly Job, But Somebody's Gotta Do It

"Not anymore," Commander Fear informed me. "Welcome to the world of miniaturization, Jon." He walked to the rear of the craft and slapped the exhaust port with his hand.

"This . . . This . . ." I couldn't seem to get the words out. "This is amazing, Commander. With a squadron of these at our command, defending the FEDs will be easy!"

"Don't count on it, son. There won't be squadrons of these. We're lucky there's one. Just because we can make it small, doesn't mean it's worth it. This one ship nearly bankrupted the Fleet. It'll be years before we come close to paying off our debt."

He shook his head sadly. "Nope. There won't even be a second one of these babies. You're all alone, Jon."

"Alone?"

Commander Fear nodded. "You've been selected as her pilot," he explained, running his hand down the fuselage.

Suddenly, my earlier misgivings returned in full force. "Where will I be piloting her?" I asked suspiciously.

Commander Fear shrugged. "Oh I don't know. Here and there. Planetary raiding missions. Deep space recon. Espionage. Sabotage . . . Yeah, probably a lot of sabotage."

"Badgers aren't equipped for recon missions," I pointed out. "Let alone sabotage."

"This one is," Fear assured me. "You nova in, fly around, blow something up, then nova out. Couldn't be simpler." His eyes twinkled merrily. "Besides," he added, "this isn't a Badger."

"It's not?" I asked, glancing at the ship. She looked like a Badger.

"Nope. High Command calls it a Fleet-Independent Stealth Harrier."

"A Fish?" I almost laughed. "They're gonna call it a Fish?"

"Do you have a better idea, pilot?"

"Stealth Harrier, Advanced Reconnaissance Craft?"

"A Sharc?" Commander Fear asked, puzzled.

"Shark," I agreed. "S-H-A-R-K, except I couldn't think of a good K word."

Fear laughed. "Nice try, pilot." He started to circle the ship, waving for me to follow. "Why don't we take a look inside. There's still a surprise or two waiting for you."

"Warning, Onslaught Long-range Fighter!"

"What?" Commander Fear asked, turning to look at me.

"Wolf! Warning, Onslaught Long-range Fighter."

Fear laughed again. "You know how much High Command hates using 'long-range' in its acronyms." He walked to one side of the cockpit and grabbed ahold of the ladder. "There's a ladder on the other side, Jon. Why don't you climb up with me."

I walked around the nose of the vessel, my mind whirling furiously. I grabbed the lowest rung and climbed up. Commander Fear was keying in the access code. "You won't have to do this," he told me. "Once we assign you to it, the ship will recognize your approach and respond to your voice commands." With a hiss, the cockpit started to swing open. "I think you'll reco-"

"Dangerous Reconnaissance Assault Gunship Omega, NOVA-equipped!" I announced triumphantly.

"Jon," Fear snapped, "that's enough!" Then he scratched his chin. "I kind of like that one . . . I'll discuss it with High Command." His eyes hardened. "As I was saying, I think you'll recognize the AI."

Confused, I peered inside the cockpit. A familiar voice groaned and said, "It's not him. Please tell me it's not him!"

My eyes snapped up to meet Commander Fear's. "You wouldn't do this to me, Commander," I said, squeezing my eyes tightly shut. "I know you wouldn't do this to me." Then I laughed, pretending I had mistaken the voice. "For a minute, I thought the AI sounded like Tempest (5)."

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(5) Tempest - The FEDs first successful-or unsuccessful, depending on one's perspective-attempt at true artificial intelligence. After attaining sentience, Tempest grew belligerent, fighting against what he considered, 'forced incarceration by primitive biological organisms.' After much discussion, the FEDs decided to pull the plug on the Tempest project.