Zoya had been told that when the Eurasia zone had been at its most active, as many as four units could be on patrol on any given hour to protect the base. Speed had been of the essence; if a new rift had opened or an anomaly appeared, things could go sideways really fast if another one showed up at the same time.
Now, patrolling the bay of White Sea was divided between a day shift and a night shift - she had read about it in the briefing booklet on the first day.
She could see the White Sea from here, the wind chasing white fluffy clouds from the sea towards the inland. The hangar doors were open, she was sitting at the Interceptor cockpit, and watching the lights come up one by one.
Asking for permission had passed her mind several times. Each time it had, her fingers had tugged on her dog tags tighter and tighter until a new plan had formed in her mind: wait until the hangar was empty, climb to the cockpit and activate the systems.
As soon as she felt the familiar tug from the systems, her body relaxed and she closed her eyes, resting her body back against the familiar seat.
She wasn’t sure what to call the sensation she shared while piloting. Sometimes she had envisioned it like ripples on the lake surface, when a single drop of water fell in the pond. At other times she imagined it as a vibration that travelled from a machine at a distance, or static electricity that lifts your hair up if it gets too close.
While connected, Ildar was able to feel when she wanted to say something even when the words wouldn’t come out, and she could feel the things Ildar did not want to talk about.
Just echoes of thoughts, feelings and emotions at the bottom of a dark well, but still enough to never be able to keep things from the other. Enough to have a vague understanding on how people operated. Enough to pilot and get food.
It was still more than human enough for misunderstandings. No form of communication with people was exact.
Interceptor was different.
Years had taught her that she felt piloting and Interceptor differently than Ildar. For Ildar, Interceptor was an extension of his senses and abilities. Scanners and automated systems devised to notice strange energy patterns - a sign of a rift or an anomaly. Strength beyond belief.
For Zoya, she imagined this was what love must have felt like.
Whether through the concept, word or convenience, her eyes fluttered open and drifted across the hall, to where Phoenix was standing.
Why did people fall in love? What was the force drawing someone towards another? Was it just the looks, curiosity, or something fate-like, a predestined encounter written in the stars? Zoya felt her heart beating just a bit faster, and saw the monitor heart rate rising in the dim light.
There was a crackle in the connection.
“I wouldn’t abandon you,” Zoya said aloud, startled by the sudden appearance of her own voice. “It’s just…”
Despite tearing her eyes away from Phoenix, she wasn’t entirely sure what exactly it was.
She wanted to close her eyes again and fall into the comfort of being held by the soft hum of Interceptor, protected by layers of steel, but a bright flashlight drew her attention to the hall. She saw its illumination reflecting from metal joints and elegantly carved fingers.
Lonan waited when she terminated the connection and climbed down the maintenance ladder. She nodded a greeting at him, casting one more wistful look at Interceptor before turning her attention to Lonan.
People don’t like it when you ignore them for mechas, Zoya.
“Somehow I knew it would be you,” Lonan chuckled and looked up at the Interceptor. “I don’t think anyone else would just randomly come here and try to start up this beauty.” Zoya’s heart skipped a beat from the way Lonan said ‘beauty’ where others said ‘junk’.
“You - could see me starting it up?” She hadn’t considered it as a possibility, but it did make sense. Lonan nodded.
“I don’t technically work for infosec, but I pay attention,” he replied and pointed his torch towards Phoenix. “Now that we have this beauty here, we’re on slightly higher alert than before.”
“I’m used to - spending a lot of time in the cockpit,” Zoya replied defensively.
“And in odd hours, too, I see,” Lonan commented lightly, not missing a beat in the conversation nor letting his smile fade. “Usually, I would have to log a report about this - but how about I let it slide? Just this once, because you’re cute.”
He winked at her, and for several seconds Zoya was uncertain about what the protocol or etiquette here was. Finally she settled on a slow, tentative smile. Compared to the connection she shared with Interceptor, ordinary communication was mundane and tiring.
“I don’t mean any harm,” she added carefully.
“Of course not,” Lonan agreed with a nod and looked up at Interceptor. “You know, I have never actually piloted an Interceptor. Never done any simulations, either.” Zoya waited and looked at him, waited for him to clarify until he did.
“I’m just saying. If you felt like sitting some more in that cockpit, wanted to actually connect, I could come with you. Maybe we’re compatible.” He winked and looked every bit like he was doing her a favour.
Zoya wrinkled her nose.
“No, thank you,” she replied tensely. Lonan shrugged her hostility off like a bird shrugs off water, and with that, everything between them was said. She left him to examine his tablet and headed back to her room, sour with the knowledge she would not be able to spend time with Interceptor without someone being notified.
There were more limitations, but other than that their days were largely the same. Waiting, routines, patrols, training. Most of it was done in a simulator, which Ildar seemed to like after the initial adjustment - dry, warm and comfortable.
Soulless, Zoya thought, but did not want to elaborate when Ildar cast a frown at her.
Perhaps the largest change of them all was Kieran. With every day that passed, their operator was more strict with enforcing rules and regulations on them. Some of their simulations had to be interfered because of a yelling match between Ildar and Kieran. Zoya tried her best to tune the voices out, tried to focus on the connection instead, hopeful in trying to find a ghost or a spirit inside the shell of a machine.
Each time there was nothing.
Ildar seemed to misinterpret her unwillingness to argue with Kieran as something else.
“You sure seem infatuated with our new operator”, Ildar noted dryly during one of their patrols, “would it kill you to keep it in your pants?” Zoya frowned and glanced quickly towards the communication channel, thankfully finding it muted for the time being.
“Was I that obvious?” The sarcasm in the question was useless, the connection between them would have transferred her emotions and insecurities even without words. Just like it transferred Ildar’s slightly cross mood and a thin hint of regret.
“Pretty obvious, yeah”, he replied, finger hovering over the communication channel, “just focus on piloting and we’ll be fine, all right?” She parted her lips to argue, but Ildar had already turned away and reopened the communication channel. That day, frustration welled in waves between the two of them.
When she ate, she tried to choose a time when the canteen was not very full. As a pilot there was no social expectation for her to eat with any of the units, and if there were other social expectations, she was quite sure she was not aware of them.
Eating alone had the downside of attracting attention. It was unavoidable, but far from a positive thing. She kept her eyes strictly at her food, meals looking for the most part similar every day.
Some days, for reasons she could not understand, Kieran joined her.
“Mind if we sit here?” His tray was already on the table, so Zoya saw no real point in him asking. Today, he was accompanied by someone else: black hair, beautiful features, an operator uniform. Zoya tilted her head when the man sat down with casual ease. She did not recall having seen him in the mission briefing before.
“I don’t mind,” she replied with an uncomfortably long delay, keeping her eyes on the new man as they finished a conversation over her response. He had eloquent gestures and a low laughter, and the kind of gaze Zoya quickly averted her eyes from when he turned to look at her, mid-sentence.
Be normal, Zoya, Ildar’s voice reminded her. Just be normal.
“How was the patrol today?” Kieran asked and tossed a piece of bread in his mouth.
"Good," she replied with a machine-like tone, before catching Kieran arching his brow barely noticeably and adding: "There was nothing particularly interesting, it looks like there are no new rifts. The zone was calm today, too; Phantom will hopefully have an equally easy time."
"And we will soon have an even easier time, after Tiger will be back in commission", Kieran chuckled, gesturing to the man sitting at the opposite side of the table, "I don't think the two of you have met yet."
"Caspian," the man introduced himself, standing up and reaching his hand towards Zoya to shake, "off-duty, that is. Sometimes on duty as well. I was recently pulled from the role of an analyst to become the new operator of Tiger." Zoya took the hand and shook it.
"Pilot Tkach", she replied, staring at Caspian thoughtfully, "um, Zoya, when off-duty. Nice to meet you - I didn't see you at the mission briefing."
"Yeah, my promotion was rather sudden and very recent", Caspian sighed and slumped back to his chair to sit, "a Star insisted that I become his new operator thanks to a stunt I pulled recently."
"Star?" Zoya turned to Kieran uncertainly.
"Nova Creed", Kieran summarised with a matter-of-factly tone of voice as he finished hunting down a piece of food on his plate, "probably the most known pilot in this base. Known for making a grand appearance where-ever he goes and from his need to always be the centre of attention."
“He used to pilot Tiger with his brother, Liam", Caspian continued directly from where Kieran left off, "I'm sure you've met or at least seen Captain Creed somewhere in the base." Zoya nodded. She remembered a man with stern expression, straight back and strong shoulders used to carrying heavy burdens.
She was certain he hadn't smiled in a very, very long time.
"A short while ago the brother got into an accident due to an operator mistake. Nova got a new partner and insisted that Caspian would become their operator." Kieran leaned over to punch Caspian playfully in the shoulder, a gesture accompanied with a wink from Kieran's side and a grimace from Caspian's.
"Let's see how long it will take for him to change his mind," he groaned, "if this was just an impulse decision. But I intend to take all I can get from this assignment; I guess it's everyone's dream to either pilot a mecha, or then be an operator for one."
"You didn't want to become a pilot?" Zoya asked a question to steal some time for sneaking the smallest piece of food from the plate to her mouth. Caspian let out a brief laugh and shook his head.
"Not even if they'd pay me for it," he replied, "which they would, of course, the base does pay their pilots. More than warm meals and equipment, too. It's just not for me."
"Too physically demanding?" Kieran's question was a teasing one. Caspian retorted with a blank stare and flicking bread crumbs at him over the table.
"I don't like the connection system," he replied over Kieran's playful cursing and brushing off the crumbs from his face. Zoya looked up in surprise and tried to find signs of a joke from Caspian's face, but couldn't find anything.
Caspian didn't seem the type of person to hide things or lie about them, either.
"Why?" She needed to know. Kieran and Caspian seemed equally confused by her question, but quickly covered up their expression with a polite smile.
"I mean," Caspian chuckled, folding his arms over his chest, "having someone in my mind space, giving them access to my emotions, my memories, my intentions... I don't like that shit. I like having things that are just for me and me alone."
"And that's why you'll never find true love," Kieran prophesied with dramatical voice. Caspian sighed and joined the dramatical charade, before turning to smile warmly at Zoya.
"No offence to you, of course. I'm glad to have more skilled pilots at the base, and anyone who wants to go out there and save lives is more than welcome to do so. We humble operators and analysts will just do our best to offer you the best possible circumstances at that." He winked, and Zoya smiled lightly at the gesture.
He didn’t seem like a bad person. Even when she could never agree with him on this matter.
Piloting had been the answer to everything for her. Words that were like tar flowed effortlessly through the machine and back. They guaranteed that there was at least one person out there who understood her - Ildar - and who explained things to others in her stead. He warded them off and put together the words she tried to herd in her mind to no avail.
But when she was walking back to the base and thinking about Caspian’s words, she was also thinking about Lonan’s offer the other night. She thought about connecting with Lonan, learning about him, about letting someone other than Ildar see inside her head.
Lonan would see the memories of housework, washing dishes in a sink that was too high for her when she was a child, brief moments of the three years she had spent at a school as a child - long enough to learn to read.
Just like with Caspian, her problem was not what she might see about Lonan. It was what Lonan might see about Zoya.
Quite often she felt like her life only consisted of moments that were drawn apart from each other and detached from the rest of the days she had lived.
She was able to remember her past and daydream about the future, but all of that felt equally unreal, like a dream that had happened to someone else. It seemed that only moments she truly spent awake were the ones when her breath caught up in her throat and panic forced her to the presence, as if through a thick veil of smog that muted all the sounds.
Those moments of panic - and the whirring, soothing sound of Interceptor, her mind connecting with something deeper and logical that made sense.
Ildar was engrossed with his book, barely glancing up when Zoya returned.
"How’s our schedule looking?" Ildar's voice was absent-minded and distant. Many others might have assumed from his relaxed posture that his attention was on anywhere else except Zoya.
Anyone else except her. She noticed the way his eyes took thoughtfully in her body language, scanned through her nervously fiddling hands and shallow breath.
She had not noticed at what point her breathing had gotten so shallow.
It took three deep breaths for her to answer.
"We have training this afternoon", she informed him, "in the simulators."
Ildar's lips curved into a slight smirk as he turned the page.
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