"Sanborn Dupre here at an undisclosed location with Captain Joffrey "Needles" Listowel. So Captain, how goes the war?" The reporter asked the Captain. The officer was stern and his weathered face belied many years in the field. His head was shaved down to prickly stubble.

"Well, Sanborn we have entered the 9th year of this conflict, we are still taking the fight to the enemy, MCSF are on the ground and in the air and we have made a lot of progress in the last three months. Several important victories at key strategic locations, that I cannot disclose, have been won by our troops."

"Excellent news Captain. Now you're the Commander of the 3rd Jumper Wing, 451 Squadron, correct."

"Yes, the is correct. The Snakeheads."

"Ah, right, the infamous Snakeheads. If my sources serve me, the Snakeheads are the most battle decorated Squadron in the MCSF."

"Also correct. My pilots are the best and I expect nothing less than excellence from each and every one of those sonsabitches."

"So Captain, what do you think of Tlaloc getting involved in the fighting?"

"I heard the media report that Tlaloc got involved due to MCSF pushing too far south in pursuit of retreating Anhillar guerrillas. I disagree with that assessment. However, Tlaloc has decided to get involved and we will treat them like any other combatant. Their large standing army is formidable, I will grant you that, but they cannot match us on the battlefield. We definitely have a technological edge, but our supply lines are far more extended than theirs. We now have six distinct factions fighting in this war, makes things more complex."

"Atlans is still an ally, so you aren't fighting alone."

"To be honest Sanborn, Atlans is only involved because if MCSF were to withdraw, the front lines could easily been pushed back into the Interim too close to their Core. That and they want to appease Meta in case they need to call in a favour in the future."

"What is this going on behind you Captain, I see a Jumper taking off. Should we be taking cover?" The reporter asked, a bit concerned with the activity on the tarmac.

"No, there's no threat. That's a pilot going up to Dodge the Dart." The captain turned and shielded his eyes with a skeletal titanium prosthetic hand, to get a better look.

"Dodge the what?"

"Some of our pilots choose to test their mettle against the orbital platforms by breaking the 2222 meter limit. They call it Dodging the Dart. We don't officially endorse the practice, but it has become a rite of passage for elite pilots. Some also try to best the standing record of 5101 meters."

"Who holds the record?"

"I do, son." He answered without moving his eyes from the ascending craft. He was no more than five years the reporter's senior.

"Can you narrate what we are seeing here, Captain? For the viewers at home."

"Sure. I believe that is Corporal Leeza 'Loop' Vargas, she's a rising star in the Snakeheads. Tenacious in combat, great reflexes, excellent augmentation interface. Tiny thing, about 150cm in boots. After breaking her pelvis in combat she opted for quadrilateral prosthetic augmentation, she has more titanium in her than that Jumper she pilots."

"I have noticed many pilots have limb replacement, why is that?" The reporter prompted.

"G-load in combat is extremely high, titanium limbs aren't as fragile. Looks like she's settled in and is now at max velocity. Let me pull the Jumper data feed up here." He produced a tablet from his hip pocket. "Okay, she is at full power and everything looks good, 2222 meters in just a second. Bingo! The platform is now tracking her, every second above 2222 is potentially lethal. Looks like she's doing the Cuddy manoeuvre."

"What's that?"

"Most pilots start jinking like mad even before crossing the barrier. Cuddy held the record before I broke it - he flew straight up for the first few seconds, gaining altitude fast at the risk of presenting a very easy target. Sometimes the darts start flying right away, other times there is a pause. No one knows why. Once you start dodging the darts, gaining altitude becomes very difficult. Same could be said of staying alive.

Three-thousand meters, she's pushing it." A brilliant purple tinged flash streaked down from above just missing the craft. "Whoa! She dodged it. The Platform has locked on and is calculating it's firing solutions, she's jinking hard now. Another dart! And a miss."

"What's the most darts anyone has dodged?"

"I dodged nine. Five on the way up and four on the way down. Some pilots get above the barrier and just dance around, evade a few darts and return to collect their glory. Even still, I think the most darts dodged by a surviving pilot is 11. I think that jock is a Jumper pilot back in the Core now. Ferries about some very important people. So there is life after combat.

Forty-one-hundred meters. She is getting really beat up. Titanium or not, those Gs take their toll. She must want my record bad." The sky lit up again and again, sonic booms assaulted the spectators below. The reporter flinching visibly every time. "Five darts now. Pilot pulse 185, telemetry indicates that last dart might have messed up some instrumentation. Altitude 4208 and oh, dart six just grazed engine four, she's on descent, rapidly. This is the worse part, you're entirely beat up and your focused solely on losing altitude. The hair stands up on the back of your neck because you can feel the Platform, it's the monster under your bed, the creeping doom in the night and it's up there, unseen, behind you, hunting you down. I'll admit it's the scariest damn thing there is." He watched the small craft spiralling erratically down, a thin trail of smoke following it down.

"Is she out of control?"

"It's not quite a death spiral, she still has some control, but her priority now is reaching the deck and with an engine down, lateral acceleration is diminished, she can't jink, she just has to make that spiral random and unpredictable to give the platform a harder time with the targeting. 2900, come on Corporal. Drinks are on me."

There was another flash and two darts intersected at a point in the sky, at that intersection Corporal Leeza Vargas and her Jumper instantaneously became nothing more than highly energized particles.

"Ex'd at 2299 meters on descent. Shame, such a promising pilot." The captain announced without a hint of emotion.

"Ex'd?"

"Once in a while there are two Platforms above the horizon at the same time, and on occasion they fire in sync. When they sync-fire their hit percentage is 100. We call it 'getting Ex'd'. Again, we never know how many are up there, always one, sometimes two. Either way, life above 2222 meters is always treacherous and often, very short." He placed the tablet back in his pocket.

"I see that. Thank-you Captain. This has been Sanborn Dupre, live near the front, now back to the studio."

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