I took Wyrmpulse’s advice and avoided the farmhouse after we dragged the UTH-68 wreck inside. By then the storm had mostly blown itself out, meaning I could hop on my ATV and return home for the evening. I left the sounds of metallic shearing and crunching behind me while doing my best not to imagine what Wyrmpulse was doing.

Sleep eluded me that night. I kept tossing and turning on my mattress which now sat directly on the ground after I sold off my bed frame. Most of my material possessions had been sacrificed in order to get Wyrmpulse the materials she needed. My house was just a series of big, empty rooms now. I no longer had a proper refrigerator, having downsized to a mini-fridge. My washer and dryer were gone as well. I was having to use a coin laundromat in town proper to clean my clothes, which grew dirtier by the day.

The few affectations I had kept were purely decorative and of no use to anyone else: A traditional oil painting of a 2009 Camaro; a shoe-sized, diecast model of an F-22 Raptor that my dad gave me when I was 6; and a picture of my older sister, Ivy, and I back when we were both in high school. All three items sat against the opposite wall of the bedroom from where I was. I no longer had shelves to display them.

As I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my phone began to vibrate next to my head. When I picked it up it automatically answered the incoming call. [ Having trouble sleeping, Ivan? ] came Wyrmpulse’s voice through the speaker.

“Definitely. But how did you know? Don’t tell me you’ve turned my phone into a monitoring device?” I asked while sighing.

[ Then I will not tell you that. ]

“Great. Not like there’s much to monitor.”

[ Indeed, your home is quite barren. I was able to look up the model of car you have a painting of, as well as discern the make of the model aircraft. However, I was unable to ascertain who the woman next to you in the photograph. ]

I looked across the room at the framed picture. It was taken right after Ivy and I had landed following a skydiving lesson. She was all business, her expression stoic and her body statuesque. By contrast, I was barely able to force a smile and stand up straight with how hard my knees were wobbling at the time.

I explained this all to Wyrmpulse, adding, “Ivy more or less guilted me into going with her that day. I forget the exact argument she used, but it had something to do with me being the only person in the family that was scared of heights and how I needed to confront my problems head on.”

[ While I can understand the logic behind such a “request”, it is clear this was not the way for you to face your fear. Your tone also suggests that you still do not care for your sister. Where is she now? ]

My arm holding the phone flopped next to me instead of continually keeping it above my head. “Ivy’s an OF-3, Lieutenant Commander, up at Naval Support Facility Saratoga Springs. She commands a bunch of techs that keep all the fighters cycling through from the front lines in reasonable shape. Last I knew she wasn’t able to touch Air-Cores, but it’s been years since we last talked. We’re both mech-heads yet never saw eye-to-eye about most things. That said, she’d probably be really jealous if I told her what I was doing with you.”

[ That is likely. I am quite the unique “fixer upper”, as you once called your car. I hope that it has been worth it, ] inquired Wyrmpulse.

I closed my eyes and tried to think of the right way to respond. “You’ve definitely been worth it. Before you came along I was just the ‘creepy quiet guy that got way too involved in his work.’ Guess I still am, if I’m being honest. Though I’ve never understood why being passionate and focused about something isn’t considered to be a good thing.”

Wyrmpulse didn’t reply right away. I had to turn my head and check to see that the call was still active after several minutes had passed in silence. When she did finally respond it was in a more serious tone than before.

[ For what it is worth, Ivan, I like that about you. Anyone else would have tried to cash me in with the military or turn me into the same kind of scrap as the UTH-68 once you realized I wasn’t human-made. Despite that, you have gone above and beyond to try and assist me. I have several theories as to why but would prefer to hear your reasoning from you. ]

I mirrored Wyrmpulse’s sincerity as I explained, “Truth be told, I’ve always looked up to and idolized Air-Core pilots. That might seem odd coming from someone who still shakes slightly when at the top of a ladder, but it’s the truth. Those pilots get to work with technological wonders and experience flight in a way no other human can. I did try and apply to the Navy to follow in my sister’s footsteps, though I think my eagerness scared off the recruiters. Which is saying something these days. You’d think recruiters would take anyone offering to help with all that’s going on with the aliens. Even the Air Force turned me down.”

“It’s funny, in a way. I know nearly every nut and bolt on the aircraft on display at the aerospace museum here. I’ve studied what non-classified material exists to the point I could probably field-strip an SR-71 Blackbird and put it back together without knowing exactly what each part did. Machines have always made more sense to me than people ever did.”

[ This narrows my hypothesis down significantly, ] said Wyrmpulse. [ I believe it is now safe to offer my speculation in the interests of clarity and fairness. ]

I turned onto my side so I could face my phone’s screen as I propped it up on a bit of blanket. “Go for it.”

[ You struggle with heights, yet you wish to fly. This indicates you wish to push past your limitations and grasp hold of a freedom that has been denied to you up to this point. Yet there is a contradiction. You have not once asked me to take you into the air, nor have you attempted any romantic gestures that the internet suggests is common between man and machine. ]

I choked on my own spit as I sputtered back, “Woah woah woah! Hold on! What kind of websites have you been visiting?!”

[ Merely the ones in your bookmarks. ]

“...fair play. That’s on me for not cleaning them before relinquishing my laptop over to your total control. But still! Those ‘romantic gestures’ are really meant for the machine’s rightful owner and operator as signs they care for their tools. The machines in question aren’t sentient like you! …Well, usually. I guess what I’m trying to say is: I’m your mechanic, not your pilot. Even if I wished I was the latter.”

Another period of silence followed my remark. I worried that I’d said something strange or scared Wyrmpulse off, doubly so when the call abruptly ended. I was about to start beating myself up when I noticed a new app was installing itself on my phone:

### X-O3T Lightning Wyvern Pilot Control and Manual ###

“What the hell…?” I said in awe as the app launched. A myriad of technical schematics, operational readouts, and database access points filled my phone’s screen. Above them all was a banner that read, [ PILOT: IVAN MILLER ]

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I gasped.

[ Sadly, I am not, ] Wyrmpulse replied jovially. [ Though perhaps I can tease you later if you wish. ]

“Maybe,” I said as I flicked through the various windows on my phone. “This is all… Wow. Just wow. I may only understand half of these words, but if I read this correctly then you’re now capable of sustained flight?”

[ Affirmative. My operational range at present is 1,500 nautical miles, decreasing to 700 nmi in combat. At that point I would need to land and allow my reactor to recharge my energy stores. Once my reactor is fully repaired and operational, I am capable of indefinite time in the air regardless of how fast I fly or what weapons are in use. ]

The mention of her reactor recharging reminded me of the lightning strike she’d coaxed from the storm, which in turn gave me an idea. “Hang on, that lightning trick of yours boosted reserves by, what, 10%? Could further lightning strikes do the same?”

A new window appeared on the app, this time depicting the interior of a cloud as charges built up before striking a nearby symbol representing Wyrmpulse. [ Theoretically, yes. Am I correct in guessing you wish to fly me into a storm? ]

“Something like that. Am I crazy?”

[ I would say “innovative” instead. Accessing weather data for the continental United States. Filtering all storms capable of producing lightning. I believe I have several candidates within flight range after accounting for you obtaining a restful night’s sleep. ]

I sat up in bed, ready to swing my legs off and hop right up. “How am I supposed to sleep now after all this? I’m coming back to the farmhouse.”

[ If you do I will seal you in my cockpit and force you to sleep by adjusting the composition of the air within. ]

“I get to check out your cockpit and get the cool knockout gas? You know that’s just making me even more eager, right?”

[ Of course. I understand I am supposed to provide you with the pretense of resistance. Am I doing well? ]

“More than you know. See you in a bit!”