Inside of the hanger was a wide array of fantastical military hardware. Upon racks sat his spies in the skies, quad copter machines that could scout and record for days if need be, little turrets on their underside awash with advanced scanners and precision cameras. Although fragile enough to break from grabbing them too hard, they were invaluable for ensuring safe operations in the wild and to get the proof he needed.

 

Beyond that were something a little heavier in another corner of the room, the olive grey armor of combat flyers in stark contrast to the light plastic and a turreted .50 caliber rifle in place of a revolving camera. Held aloft with small jets to make up for their weight, they had a telltale whine like an angry hornet when they arrived. There wasn’t a whole lot that could stand up against one of those flying killers, and what could stand that was above the ranger’s paygrade.

 

Past the rack was a large and imposing door, large enough for a jeep to pass through when open. Six inches of steel and locked tight with servos meant to keep the vacuum of space from sucking space fighters, pilots, and their maintenance crew into the void. Jeremy suspected the bean counters got it cheap from a passing salvage ship. He counted the pockmarks and singed craters that were scattered across the face of the door when his squad was trained to operate the drones, but at the moment he was thankful the hangar door was air tight and battle hardened. 

 

The other object of note was a hoverbike, left to sit on a stand off to one side for when rapid extraction was needed. It was sleek, an elongated and curved frame like an eagle’s beak. Its main engine was straight through its entire length, while many steering thrusters branched off like little guide wings. It was a beautiful sight to see it shoot through the air like an angel's wing across the horizon, something Jeremy dreamed to ride, but only Officer June was authorised to use it. 

 

How the medic managed to convince Grimmsdale to shell out the money for such a beautiful piece of equipment was the subject of many late shifts spent theorycrafting, most of which he and others elect to keep to themselves. June’s temper was only matched by her armbar.

 

Jeremy ripped his eyes away from the bike and moved to a control panel. It was the sophisticated instrument connected to the  drones stationed here, reading their conditions and relaying orders. They could program a patrol, run diagnostics, play recordings, and even allowed direct control over any particular vehicle when the programing would be to fiddly. 

 

Jeremy thought back as he went through the month-long training he and everyone else suffered through, most of which was on how not to break the expensive and fragile equipment. Taking the drones off auto pilot and grabbing the metaphorical wheel was highly discouraged, but then base mechanic and general pain Grant seemed to distrust humans with even simple tasks.

 

His mind started to wander as she set in a course around the width of the forest, the monotony of punching in numbers offered little for his mind to keep on as he remembered similar patterns he had used before. Although someone else might boggle at the thought of taking control of a fleet of flying machines with a few button presses, the machines themselves did all the hard work. To him, it wasn’t much different or more difficult than preheating an oven.

 

So he thought back to who else he could talk to. His face turned to a scowl as his mind turned back to Matilda. She had been quiet for too long since their last confrontation. He doubted she would report what he had done to Grimsdale, since she’d also be held responsible for letting the ranger get this far and put through punitive action. And any punishment the commander could imagine would be far more cruel to her than to him.

 

She didn’t answer after he had escaped the Mystic the second time, and the only reason he could think was because she was being moody for being yelled at or she suddenly became very busy back at base.

 

Neither possibility sounded good for him.

 

Grimsdale was out of the question, since he was the one Jeremy was trying to hide this rogue solo mission from. Ryane, Jeremy’s direct superior, would absolutely turn him in out of fear that he’d get the blame for the ranger’s insubordination. It amazed the ranger how such a spineless man could Some of his squad mates might stick up for him, but the more people there are who knew meant the more likely someone will slip up.

 

So Jeremy grit his teeth, then let out a long groan in acceptance as something clicked. It was starting to look like he was being the moody one here. He he sighed, breathed in, and turned his comms back to the gardener  .

 

“Matilda?” Jeremy called tentatively, listening in for a response from the AI. The lack of background noise on the other end sent a slow chill through his body. Talking to her was always a bit unnerving, as knowing that there was no real person on the other side stuck to him like a heavy fog. 

 

“Oh, hello Sunflower,” she answered quickly with her calm and cheery voice. Jeremy wasn’t quite the happiest to hear her, but he would take her tranquil response as a far improvement over what he was expecting “I see you’re still alive. I was getting worried after the Mystic started chewing through the front door.” 

 

“I’m secure for the moment,” Jeremy replied, powering through menus and topographical maps. Then he paused, and his eyes widened. Did he hear her right? “Since the Mystic started what?” he asked as he ripped for his phone and sped through the camera feeds to get to the front.

 

“You’re fine, it gave up after a few minutes. You must be quite high strung.” She cooed while Jeremy hung his head back and groaned.