Wash Down

Finally reaching the end of the row of hangers, I throw my back onto Spirit's hanger door. Sliding towards the earth below. I rest on the boiling concrete for a few seconds. laying on the ever-growing heat before rejecting its intensity. I spring to my feet, throwing open the hanger's small door. I jolt inside shutting the blazing heat behind me. Once again, I slide down onto my butt. As my skin's burning sensation subsides, my surroundings become apparent. I find myself in a dark room, its only illumination coming from small windows at the top corners of the hanger. Casting down a small reflecting light across the room, backlighting Spirits menacing frame. The room's icy temperature clashes with the blazing sun's heat outdoors. Cause chilling waves to pulse over my body. Seeing Spirit in her darkened hanger, the name Phantom Spirit fits like no other. I search the wall for a light switch. throwing my hand at random locations around chest level in search. Finally feeling my fingers land on something, I flip the switch. The lights flicker on as several more windows reveal themselves shedding more light into the room.

Centering the room was no other than Spirit, my wonderful AeroCord. The true definition of ariel supremacy. Hundred of leagues above even the nearest of competition. A true masterpiece, only I'm capable of flying. I marvel at Spirit's beauty, admiring her double delta wings merging into her flattened oval fuselage. I step under her wings, ambling towards her tail section. Used to throw the plane into all sorts of maneuvers, two mini delta elevators rest. Firmly being secured into the fuselage. Sitting between the fuselage and elevators lie the two rudders. The rudders, being slightly titled outwards, follows a cropped delta design. leaving a flat smoothened top surface to slice through the air. On the outer side of the left rudder, a blue dragon decal daunts my prey. Its wings spread wide, taking up most of the rudder's surface as it spits burning red flames. It's the only decal I could persuade the engineers to add to her.

Slightly further behind the rudders and elevators lies the engine's exhaust. Two large slat openings extending deep into the plane's fuselage. At the very back of the exhaust, five circular cylinders lied in dormant. I look under Spirits fuselage, exposing 2 angled wing strakes for added stability during high-speed flight. I step to the side, looking over the top part of the body, or fuselage. The fuselage is mostly smooth and well-rounded. Excluding the engine's ever slight bulge. extending from midway of the fuselage to the ends of the slated exhaust. My bubble cockpit protrudes from the fuselage, giving me a clear 360-degree view. The sides and bottom of the fuselage follow the top's example remaining smooth and rounded. But unlike the top, the bottom is ever slightly rough. Being filled with multiple small sensor entrances and exits. Under the front leading edge of the double delta wings, are the intakes, flush against the fuselage. Following the leading edge's 50-degree sweep, they extend down the wing's root before Folding into the fuselage.

Walking back towards the front. looking towards my cockpit and Spirits long nose. I press a button near my bubble canopies side. Sliding the sections back into each other, granting me access. I climb inside, although a little tight fit at times. It's quite spacious, taking up a large portion of the aircraft's front. I look through the disabled HUD, onward towards her outstretched nose. It stretches far out from the rest of her body. Slowly narrowing down before suddenly collapsing into a 6-inch spike. I look down towards all the nobs and buttons I use to control the divine beast. I place my left hand on the throttle and my right on the stick.

Spirit: "Jax, do you need me to power up for a mission?"

Jax: "Ah, no! There are no missions to attend. I just kinda felt like hopping in for a second, ill get out now."

Avoiding all the switches and dials I jump out of Spirit. Landing on my feet with a thud. I look back up towards the canopy as it slides back down, locking into position. I run my finger over her frame, it welcomes my finger with a quite powerful static shock. A coat of dust remains on my stinging finger. Yep, she's dirty alright. I walk towards the small personnel door. Lying beside the door, was a shelf stacked with cleaning supplies specially made for Spirit. I grab the various nameless soaps and polishers. Dragging a hose and stepping stool along with me. I set them down near her front wheels, running back to turn on the hose. Turning the small valve, the hose jolts to life. Throwing itself all over as if trying to impersonate a raging snake. Maybe a drunk raging snake... I pounce on the hose's front end. Rejecting my attack, it squirms even harder, power washing over Spirit. I grab the tip thrusting it into the air. Water flies high into the air. Splashing against the nearly 70-foot high ceiling before sprinkling back down, pretending to be rain. The unrelenting hose vibrates violently in resistance. Striking my side, it knocks the wind out of me. I drop to my knees trying to catch my breath. The hose as if laughing, sprays me with water, knocking me onto my back.

Jax: "Smug bastard... Two can fight cheap."

I race to the valve, throwing it off. The coughing hose spurts to death after losing its zest. Finally able to catch my breath I ponder. Why the hell did that thing need to be so powerful?.. I inch the valve ever so lightly. The hose sputters back to life. This time, in a gentle, manageable, stream. I look up at Spirit. Grabbing the hose and the, now soaked, soapbox. It seems this side doesn't need much of a wash anymore... The midnight-colored tint shining through the otherwise grey peppered sand. I gloss Spirit with water missing no inch. as sand spills off her body towards the drains. I crack open the box of dampened soap, expecting disaster. I let out a sigh of relief studying the plastic coating the soaps. This soap dissolves fast in water. It's made specially to clean Spirit fast and effectively. I take out one of the bars, unwrapping it gently. Kicking the stool into place allowing access over Spirit. I glaze Spirit with her specialized soap, missing no corner. As expected it dissolved quickly. Leaving a bubbling white trail over her airframe.

Satisfied with my operation, I kick the stool away from Spirit, perching on it. The soap hisses as it forces deep-rooted sands out of their crevices. My hands begin to sizzle as well. Annoyed with the sound I grab the hose, washing off my palms. After about 5 minutes, the hissing and popping finally subside. Alerting me to its conclusion. I grab the hose, once again dosing Spirit in a coat of water. Seeing no remaining soap spots I walk back over to the shelf, grabbing 2 cloths. I pop open the bottle of Spirits polisher. Dabbing one cloth in it lightly. I force the cloth down onto Sprit's wings and fuselage. Once again, going over every square inch of her fuselage. Assuring no unaccounted-for corners are missed. I grab the second, dried soft cloth. Once again running it over every square inch of Spirit. I plop back down onto the stepping stool. Placing my chin on my hand, I examine Spirit's freshly cleaned body, marveling at it. Her shape alone was stunning. Now clean shined is beyond amazing. I notice a blackened spot on my fingers where I was pressing the cloth down into Spirit. I rub my fingers hoping to rub them off. I guess some of Spirit's paint got onto me? But Spirit isn't supposed to be painted due to it affecting her cloak? I'll ask Doc about it later.

"So you finally gave it a clean? It's been needing one for a while now."

I recognize that condescending, spiteful voice, Capt'n. I look towards the door to confirm my theory. Leaned up against the doorway, arms crossed, stood Capt'n in his usual attire.

Jax: "Yea, she has been getting quite dirty lately. Her static properties don't exactly fit in a desert ya know."

Capt'n: "I've been wondering this for a while now. Why do you keep calling it, she As if it was a person? I'll be frank, it's quite creepy. Stop.

Jax: "I call Sprit she because I think of her as my partner in the skies. Yes I know she's a machine, but I don't mind that fact. I'm pretty sure all of us AeroCord pilots call our birds by a pronoun thinking about it. I mean, they interact with us, and even have conversations with us from time to time."

Capt'n: "Is that so? Well ill just ask them to stop as well. As for you, don't call that thing "she" as if it was a person. It's a war MACHINE, NOT a living organism.

Jax: "the hells is your deal Capt'n!? what's wrong with me just simply calling my partner in the skies a pronoun? it's not hurting anyone OR affecting mission results is it!?"

My waves of anger slowly beginning to seep out from Capt'n's needless spite.

Capt'n: "I won't repeat myself. That's an order."

Jax: "An unnecessary order I refuse to follow without a valid reason."

Capt'n pushes himself upright dropping his arms. I've been dealing with this unnecessary passive-aggressive behavior for too long. We stare into each other's souls, daring the other to make a move.

"Would you two quit bickering?"