When you survived in the field for as long as Nova had, you kind of started to automatically develop some sort of belief in destiny. Not necessarily higher powers, because if gods did indeed exist, then Nova was certain they had been dead for a long time.
Him and his brother had been bred for the purpose of heroism. They had been bathed in purpose and exposed to their role from childhood.
Nova knew the meaning of hope. When people looked up at him, they saw someone who smiled at the face of the danger and believed things would be all right.
He needed someone who would be able to carry that role on his shoulders.
The cockpit door opened, and Nova recognized the face entering. It took only a moment for him to place it: Anders, Liam’s doctor. His movements were slightly uncertain, and for a moment Nova considered this was a joke of extremely poor taste at the expense of his time.
But Anders seemed to know his way around the cockpit. He nodded a greeting at Nova, stood up to the control platform and placed his hands on the handles as if he had done it before.
“We meet again,” he exhaled, and despite his smile Nova was able to tell he was nervous.
“Yes,” Nova replied, finding his voice again. “I wasn’t aware you have received pilot training?”
“It’s been a while since I was last in a cockpit,” Anders admitted as he adjusted the pedals to his height, “but I was actually originally trained as a pilot medic. This means that not only have I received basic training but also logged a couple hundred hours of flight time.”
He reached a bit further to adjust his position just slightly, before turning to Nova. Nova examined every inch of his straight posture, saw how the smile on his face turned from nervous to apologetic.
“Only simulation hours, though,” Anders continued. Nova nodded and turned his attention to the screen. The command channel was still closed, which meant they were still setting things up. A frustrated huff left him in a deep sigh. Anders glanced at him, and the next time he spoke, his voice was more silent, more soft.
“I’m sorry. I bet you have many more experienced people lined up, already; but the clinical data said we’re a possible match…” His voice trailed off in an oddly insecure note, before he licked his lips nervously and gave another vague shrug.
“Was it a part of a program? Your pilot medic training.” Nova didn’t ask out of curiosity as much as out of willingness to try to alleviate the tension between them. His sigh hadn’t exactly been aimed at Anders, yet he had taken it as such.
It was an offering, and Anders seemed to realise it as his shoulders relaxed slightly.
“A terminated one by now, yes. A subprogram of the three-pilot initiative,” Anders said and checked the positions of his vital indicators; a ring, a plug at the base of his neck, a bracelet, two of the last which were reserved only for cockpit usage.
“Why was it terminated?” Nova adjusted his own ring. By now, he’d have it for most of his adult life, and it had years worth of data about him: his sleeping habits, his exercise routines, his brief moments of illness. The ring had recorded almost every heartbeat since he had turned eighteen.
“Same reason as why the three-pilot initiative was terminated,” Anders replied, finally finishing with his adjustments. “There simply weren’t enough pilots. The goal of the initiative was to train the third person of the pilot trio to be a pilot medic, so that in emergency situations medical care would be immediate. I think only two pilots from the whole initiative ever made it to the field.”
The command channel crackled to life. The words were a blur to Nova by now, but he knew the order of things by heart. First, the connection between him and Anders was initiated, indicated by the glow of blue light all around them as the screens lit up. After the synchronisation, they would finetune it with a movement sequence.
Nova closed his eyes and focused on emptying his mind. Anything he would take in from the outside - expectations, worries, fears - would hinder the connection. He would have to be open for this to work.
It had never been difficult with Liam. They knew everything about each other, there was nothing to hide. Strangers willingly opened up to Nova now, showing their desires, their hero worship, their ambitions of being seen and being accepted as heroes by Nova’s side.
Nova opened up because he had to, and showed his disdain and frustration, his hostility. He had enough people worshipping him outside the cockpit, but inside it he needed someone who could pull their weight.
The machinery around them started to emit a low hum, and Nova felt his consciousness and sensations expanding slowly. He felt Tiger, its parts and its reach; his will, ready to move it. His heart picked up speed and matched with Anders’s - Nova’s heart rate was usually low while running a simulation, as this was the most familiar environment for him.
This was not the case for Anders. Their hearts met in the middle and settled to a steady, musical rhythm in Nova’s ears.
His calm met with nervousness. He felt the handles under his own palms, but at the same time he became aware of the sweaty hold Anders had of his own handles. Sights and sensations and pulse. Halfway through.
Nova opened his eyes. Anders was looking at him, and in the moment their eyes met, their connection spiked.
Vague emotions flooded at the edges of Nova’s mind; a sense of loss, a sense of duty, a sense of belonging. These were things everybody here felt at varying degrees. But underneath the breathing, the nerves and the hesitance, there was something else that defined the connection as “Anders”.
If I can be of help, then I will.
He wasn’t here to take, or to bask in glory. He was here to give.
A familiar sound rang from the system, a steady voice informing them that the connection had been established and secured. Anders turned to look at the screens, startled, pleased, anticipated.
“Wow,” he exhaled and laughed, voice filled with daze and wonder.
“You’ve never done this with another pilot before?” For a moment, Nova forgot that he didn’t want a new partner.
“Once, but it’s been a while,” Anders replied. His eyes were glued to the screen, and his breath started to become steady. Nova stretched his fingers. Waiting for clearance for the calibration always made him impatient, and this time the impatience was colored by curiosity.
There had never been exact science behind what made two or more pilots into a good match. Clinical data was one way to approach it; without high enough clinical compatibility, the mech would not move. Many things were found to affect it. Siblings, for one, were often good matches due to genetics; people with the same blood type could be a match; a long-time romantic couple could be a good match.
Some science claimed that good partners could be made; that over time, whether you liked it or not, the contact between the pilots would turn them into a good match. It left the pilots open, exposed. Being able to form that kind of connection always changed you, whether you wanted it or not. Anyone could become Nova’s partner, if they had years to spare.
But they didn’t have years to spare, so it came down to feeling the click. Just like riding a bicycle; once you clicked with someone, you never forgot that connection.
The click was something the science desperately wanted to explain, but couldn’t.
And the click was what Nova felt in his mind, in that moment.
“Run through the calibration,” the voice finally instructed them from the command channel. Nova started the basic movement routine and Anders followed. The system synchronised their intentions, reaction times and trajectories.
Anders was rusty and slow, as was to be expected.
“Should we have these changed to brighter colours and shapes to make it easier for you?” Nova exhaled when they started to repeat the movement routine for the third time. Anders did not respond. His eyes were focused.
Nova had gone through this hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of times. He had perfected it with Liam. But looking at Anders from the corner of his eye, he saw that Anders wasn’t incapable, nor was he unfocused. His movements were unpolished, but they weren’t bad. Nova turned back to the screen thoughtfully. Perhaps, with enough training, Anders could be…
His thoughts were interrupted when there was a cognitive dissonance in his mind, pressing the right lever when it should have been left. He looked up to Anders in sheer astonishment and saw that the white cheeks were dyed in embarrassed crimson red.
“Maybe you should have your reflexes tested with one of those hammers, that level of lagging could be serious,” Nova said dryly and made a point of very elaborately pressing the right lever. Again, Anders did not react, but this time he matched the pressing of the lever perfectly.
At the end of their third round, the lights cleared up. The connection data wasn’t visible to them, but Nova had a feeling it hadn’t been half bad. They had settled for a dynamic of Anders following just one split second behind in his movements, and Nova taking the lead.
“Well, at least it’s done,” Nova observed and leaned back on the pedestal. Anders nodded, and his emotions welled just at the edge of Nova’s consciousness like waves behind a dam. There was irritation, but less than Nova had expected after his snide comments. The bottomline of him was unchanged.
If I can be of help, then I will.
If Anders would be willing to give, then Nova would be willing to take. He looked up at Anders, knowing that their connection would make his intentions known. It was not mind-reading; at most, it was pictures, but most often emotions - or, as some scientists called them, auras.
Anders looked back at him, relenting, and nodded. Nova nodded back.
It was different than someone replacing Liam, he decided. This would be more Anders assisting him. Nobody could ever replace Liam, but getting a co-pilot who could be his subordinate meant he could continue piloting.
Nova had no idea what else he could do in his life other than piloting.
“I know it must be hard on you,” Anders’s voice broke the silence so abruptly that Nova flinched at it and its empathetic note. “Liam left behind large shoes to fill.”
Anders’s green eyes were calm and collected, his emotions level and in check. If he had sensed Nova’s intent of using and taking what he could give, he did not seem bothered by the notion.
“I just want to get back to the field,” Nova said and straightened his back again, facing front. “Liam is… an exceptional pilot. Piloting has always come first, for both of us, and I need a co-pilot who understands that. I have no time to waste on people who see this just as a career opportunity.”
“I understand,” Anders replied, “and, for what it’s worth, I do hope that you find the best possible match.” The lights of the panels went out, and Nova felt the connection between them draining from his mind, the presence of Anders and Tiger both leaving him alone in the dim cockpit. He curled his fingers into loose fists and nodded, not trusting his voice.
Now, without the connection, he felt the absence of Anders’s empathy that had been surrounding him like a thin veil. In its place was grief as bile in his throat.
“Me too,” he finally uttered, leaning on the back rest. “I’ll ask the analysts about the data later. Thank you.” Anders nodded and stepped down from the pedals. Nova didn’t look up nor smile as he heard the cockpit door opening and closing.
What use would it be to smile and pretend in front of someone you piloted with? The connection yielded understanding, it was stripped of any facades and false smiles.
“Can you give me five minutes? I need to gather my thoughts,” Nova requested to the command channel. Upon hearing an affirmative answer, he pulled off the helmet of his piloting gear and rubbed his face with his hands. Sweat, cold and hot, was left in his hands, and he wiped it absent-mindedly on his thigh.
A part of him kept waiting to wake up, because something like this didn’t happen to him and Liam. It was a distant thing for other people, injury and death. They had been trained to fight, and win, and repeat it until this war would be won.
This was a nightmare, but after Liam had woken up, Nova had realised that for both of them, this nightmare would never stop.
Five minutes passed quickly, and during them he thought about getting back to piloting, Liam on the hospital bed, Anders and Tiger. Then he heard the cockpit door opening again and his smile curved on, confident as ever.
***
Liam was still asleep when Nova returned to the medical ward, dragged a chair from the window next to the bed and fell on it. There were less devices now, less of the beeping chorus keeping Liam alive. He was breathing on his own now, bruised but stable.
Nova had passed by the hangar on his way here. Tiger’s damage was still extensive, and he didn’t want to think too deeply about how it had felt for Liam.
It hadn’t been the end. Liam was still alive, Tiger was in the process of being fixed, metal alloy and microchips and wiring, Nova was currently finding someone to stand in for Liam.
“Has dad come by?” His words reached the empty room, not waiting for an answer just like Nova never expected anything from their father. Surely he had heard the reports. Surely he knew Liam was here. If he hadn’t come by, it just meant he was too busy saving the world.
And if he had come by, Liam most likely hadn’t been awake for it.
It was eerie to see his brother so still, hair pulled free and messy from the military-grade short ponytail it always was tightly combed in. The numbers on the last device monitoring Liam meant nothing to Nova, but green was usually a good colour.
It was silent, excluding the silent humming of the machine and the AC in the background.
He’ll be fine, Nova reminded himself. He’ll pull through. They just don’t know him like I do.
They were the best at their jobs. They were at the vanguard of keeping millions of people safe. This was their whole life, and it would continue as soon as Liam would recover. The mechanics would fix Tiger, the doctors would fix Liam, Nova would continue piloting with Anders, and in a few months Liam would be back.
He thought back at the conversation he had overheard, between Anders and an unknown person certain Nova would be decommissioned.
“Even if there was someone who could stand him, wasn’t he still connected to the system during the accident? The records show very low probability of the pilot’s neural system being able to accept another co-pilot after a traumatic termination.”
“That is true,” Anders had said, and even at the memory of the words, Nova froze still.
Then Anders had continued with amusement: “But, if you say that, you probably don’t know who you are talking about. I think his personality will be more of a challenge than his plasticity; I have full faith that he will overcome it just like any other obstacle he has faced.”
Nova wanted to have faith, too.
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