Page 3 of Rogue Starfighter

“November Four-Two-Charlie, maintaining heading.”

Good boy. I cleared the medevac for a direct approach, sent the three regional jets around the storm, and kept one eye on the disaster in the Cessna. He was flying straight now, which was an improvement.

“Medevac One-Three-Seven, cleared to land, runway two. Emergency equipment is standing by.”

“Copy, Phoenix Tower. Cleared runway two. Thanks for the help.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

The storm hit the tower windows with enough force to make the glass tremble. Rain came sideways across the desert, smearing the runway lights into long golden streaks. Thunder shook the floor beneath my feet. Nobody panicked. At least not where I could hear them.

I kept the planes separated, worked through the active flight vectors in my head, and made sure every pilot knew exactly where to go. On shift, I didn’t have time to worry about anything else. Not dinner. Not bills. Not my completely nonexistent dating life. Especially not my nonexistent dating life.

Out there, complete strangers were trapped in metal tubes in a violent storm. For the next twenty minutes, they were my responsibility. I was very, very good at my job.

The medevac landed first. One regional jet diverted to Tucson, and I brought the other two down seven minutes apart. The student pilot came around last and managed to land without bending the Cessna or killing anyone. A miracle.

“November Four-Two-Charlie, contact ground.”

“Thanks, Tower. Sorry about before.”

“No problem.” Liar. “Have a good night.”

When the radio went quiet, I peeled off my headset and rolled my shoulders. The foam pads had left my ears sweaty and sore, and the muscles between my shoulder blades felt like someone had tied them into knots. Alvarez dropped into the chair beside mine. “You crushed that guy’s dreams.”

“I kept him from crushing a Cessna.”

“Same difference.”

“He asked for a touch and go with a medevac on approach.”

“Maybe he’s an organ donor.”

I laughed and started closing out my station. “He almost became one.” Our supervisor stopped behind me. “Good shift, Anand.”

“Thanks.”

Nobody had died. Nobody had crashed. The medevac was safely on the ground. In my line of work, that qualified as a fantastic day. Alvarez stretched his arms over his head. His back cracked loudly enough to make me wince. “We’re getting tacos. You coming?”

“Can’t.”

“You always say that.”

“Tonight I have a reason.”

He looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s nine thirty on a Wednesday. What reason could you possibly have?”

“I’m saving an alien civilization.”

Alvarez stared at me.

“Video game,” I explained.

“Right. Your fake alien boyfriend.”

“He is not my boyfriend.”

“Does he know that?”