***
Jake had never seen anything quite like it – vast land, complete with buildings, a gas station, the occasional house, street lamps, parked cars, proper roads and not a soul walking around; the proving grounds truly were amazing. No sign of military vehicles, troops or anything. It was basically a well-kept ghost town. Jo directed him to the bunker site in Area 17, where he saw the first signs of life – decorated military folk, starched suits and military police. The test really was going to happen.
He was nervous, undoubtedly, but took comfort in the fact that Fallon, James and Jo were there. They looked almost as out of place as he did, only they seemed thrilled. Fallon was particularly energetic. He reminded Jake of a mosquito – always in everyone’s ear.
As they dismounted and MPs carted the pay-load carrier out of the U-haul, Fallon began buzzing around, his purple sneakers moving so fast it was just a lavender blur.
“Ah, she’s beauty, ain’t she, Builder? We’re gonna mount ‘er! Arr,” Fallon said as he ran up to Jake.
“What are you, a five year-old pirate? Shut up and calm the fuck down. No one will take us seriously – especially after they see your damned sneakers. Idiot,” James snapped. Obviously, James was tired and worse for the wear.
“Aww, come on, Jamesie, The Melon means no harm. He’s just an excited little melon, aren’t ya?” Jo defended. “Plus, everyone takes me seriously. I’m smart as shit!”
Jake scrubbed his hands over his face and ran them through his hair, “I don’t belong here, guys.”
“Nonsense, minion. You are our spy. Whether the object be to crush an army, storm a city or to assassinate an individual, it is always necessary to begin by finding out the names of attendants, the aides-de-camp, the doorkeeper and sentries of the general in command. Our spies must be commissioned to ascertain these!! You are the spy, and that is the general! Go fourth, little spy. Remember every face you see, report back to Sun Tzu!” Fallon said, his eyes pointed at a man in a green military suit, covered in little colourful badges.
“What the fuck? No, no, no, Jakie-poo. You’re not a spy. Fuck Purple Barney Sun Tzu over here. Yes, that’s the General. Holy cock and balls, he’s coming over. Look like you’re not interested. All geniuses feign disinterest. The candy-coloured fucker wants to shake your hand. Pretend it’s nothing,” Jo whispered to them.
James was off talking to the techs, who were definitely soldiers as well, and Jake did not know if he should put his hands in his pockets or leave them dangling. He did not know what to do with his entire body, for that matter. The General was smiling at him. Should he smile back? He was an impressive sight. Could not have been a day over sixty, he was tall and sharp looking, the hair at his temples grey and his buff arms and chest covered with badges and pins.
“So, you must be the rookie builder everyone is talking about. Good to meet you, son,” he said, grasping Jake’s hand firmly and shaking it with purpose. Jake quelled the urge to smile up at him and say something stupid like, “Wow! You’re a superhero!”
“My name is Charles Bloomsfield. You can call me General Bloomsfield, son. The Pentagon sends their regards. You’ve done an impressive job, son. No one has ever done what you’ve done,” Bloomsfield said, smiling at him, nodding at him, looking at him with praise.
“I, uh, thanks?” Jake stuttered. “Sorry, Sir, I mean, General, but what did you mean by no one has ever done what I’ve done?” He wanted the sandy ground beneath him to open up and swallow him.
“What? Come now, surely you knew that no one has ever built a pay-load carrier like this with absolutely no experience or training! And with such good time!” the General replied, with great ardour.
“Heh. And survived to tell the story,” said Fallon under his breath, which had the General turning to him and laughing. “Good to see you again, General Bloomsfield. I’m sure you’ve missed me!”
“Uh, no, Fallon. I haven’t. Now, where is my little girl? My little genius-in-shining-armour?” the General asked, with banked jubilance.
“Hi, dad,” Jo replied. It was the first time Jake had seen her so uptight and unhappy. “You ready for this test? Let’s get it over with. Jake, let’s go help mount it,” she replied so curtly that even Jake felt sorry for the General.
“Okay, then, little one, if that’s how you want it. I’ll see you in there,” the General said, looking more dejected than ever.
They were escorted by MPs, along with the pay-load carrier which was being ferried by a forklift – he did not know why; it really was not that heavy, to what looked like a giant hanger. As the large doors were slid open, a magnificent, solitary, black plane with odd-looking wings stood before them. Sure that this was the most amazing thing he had ever seen, Jake tried not to cry at the sight of it. It was beautiful. Matte-black, with a fearsome looking nose and awkward wings, it reminded him of Jo. Her black hair, sharp features and long, almost freakish limbs. They were both two of a kind. Both amazing. Both incredibly beautiful.
Noticing how awe-struck Jake was, Fallon idled up to him, “She’s DARPA’s baby. I guess I need to explain what DARPA is, don’t I?”
“Uh, yeah. Darpa?” Jake questioned, still unable to tear his eyes away from the sheer beauty of the plane.
“Defense Advanced Research Project Agency, the military’s lab. DARPA, dammit, DARPA! They’re cool, I guess. This baby is an alteration of the Nighthawk F-one seventeen. Yeah, the 117 was a beauty, but this baby, whoa. She be blowing with a bigger pay-load, reduced EM-emissions – that means lower electromagnetic emissions, and here’s the killer part – she’s coated with the government’s super cooling shield. You’ll have to ask Jo-Jo, but it stays cool enough to reduce the chances of being detected by infrared scanners. She’s covert, baby!” Fallon explained excitedly, not stopping to find out if Jake understood anything.
“Uh... okay. Where do we mount it? And who’s going to mount it? I sure as hell have no idea how to,” Jake replied. He studied the wings and was sure that they looked too fragile to hold the weapons delivery system. James was at the fuselage attempting to jack up some wires. Fallon made his way to the cockpit, mostly to set up the electronics and wiring. What was Jake supposed to do? Jo was off in a corner, pretending to look at schematics, but Jake knew she was sulking. It was as though her unhappiness mattered so much to him.
He wanted so much to walk up to her and find out what was troubling her. Sure, he had not expected General Bloomsfield to be her father and for the life of him he could not understand why her surname was Lester instead of Bloomsfield. He wanted to comfort her. He also wanted to check the plane out. Torn between the two beauties, he gave up and went to the drinks stand to quench his thirst.
“Jake, could you show the techs how everything is supposed to look? I just need to get the software uploaded and Fallon is busying himself with all those damned wires. What’s left is the pay-load carrier and mount. Turns out this is it. This plane is going to be the weapon of silent, mass destruction. We’re going to have to weld everyone on. It’ll take about a day or so to get everything hooked up and up to speed, so let’s get cracking, shall we?” James said, stunning Jake and causing him to sputter and spill his soda all over the floor.
Jake nodded in response and moved to get the schematics, brushing Jo’s arm intentionally – if only to let her know that he was there. She smiled at him in response and turned back to the plan schematics without a word. Schematics in hand and with a look of resolve, Jake walked over to the left wing.
Staring up at the beauty that was formerly known as the F117 Nighthawk, he idly touched the aileron and fairing strips. He decided he was in love not just with Jo, but with DARPA’s baby. It was going to be a lot of work, but it was going to be fun. He had no idea of what he was doing, or what he was about to do.
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