Pilot

[hatuhsawl]

You're a pilot. You've been training for this moment for more than half your life. No more running, no more games.

You hop in the cockpit, and hit the switch. You buckle in as the glass overhead slides shut. your last buckle clicks just as the seal around you hisses closed.

You reflexively put the headset on and begin flipping the switches and pushing the buttons. Pure muscle memory, and the symphony of flickering lights and beeping of computers firing up waft over you. It's a joy even now, exactly like the first time. But you don't even think about what your hands are doing or what you're seeing. Instead, the piece over your ear crackles to life, and you hear your handler screaming at you to stop what you're doing. You waver, only momentarily, as your hands grip the handles.

The ringing in your head starts, and your own voice in your mind is screaming at you that this is suicide, and asking you why you're doing this.

You know why you're doing this. You take a deep breath, let your shoulders drop and your grip tighten on the controls. You rip off the headset, and the screaming and ringing in your head quickly melts away. Not with a bang, but calmly and smoothly like you're turning down a dial.

With your confidence, you engage the bird's engines, and take off.

As you leave the atmosphere, you realize that every time you did this exact same procedure, thousands of times before, you always had a sense of security knowing you'd always return back into the atmosphere each time.

But this time, the thought of returning here offers no comfort. Because this time, your comfort comes from the fact that you won't be returning. Not after all that's happened, and especially not after what's about to happen.

You deftly increase speed after leaving the planet's gravitational pull, and your bird's targeting computer chirps that they're following.

This is no cause for concern, this is what you were expecting.

After 15 minutes of dodging and maneuvering, just as you planned and calculated, your target appears in your visor.

25 years you've waited for this, and this time you aren't going to run like you have every time before now.