I Am A Flyer

II: Determination

"Can you do it?"

Four of them huddled together: a Smoke, Mountain, and a pale yellow flyer all crowded around Jett, carefully shielding his small form from the view of the five war machines that were scattered across the field. Well, Nibran's huge frame was practically curled around Jett's, while the other two flyers were pressing in on the sides.

It hadn't taken long for the flyers to figure out that the machines shot first after everything that had a heat signature. Then when everything was stone cold, they shot at everything that moved even slightly. Within mere minutes, nearly all of the soldiers had been taken out. The flyers were better off – their suits masked their heat signature, acting as camouflage from the machines' eyes.

Jett was grateful for their efforts that shielded him, because their bodies blocked the view. The sight of the burnt corpses of people he had known or met – those images burned themselves into his brain, and he knew he'd never forget them.

"Jett?" Nibran's voice rumbled. It brought the Talon trainee back to reality. Back to the task he'd been asked to do. Can you do it? "Look, if you think you can't, it's fine. We'll figure something else out."

Something else? There isn't anything else! If I can't do this. . .then we're as good as dead. Jett took a deep breath. The situation was painfully clear. He was the only one who had a chance at it, and if it was something he could do to help end those freakish metal machines, then. . .

"I'll try," he nodded, albeit shakily. "I'll do it." If only Raven were here. . .

The Smoke flyer seemed to stare at him for a long moment. It was hard to tell, because of that annoying black visor that completely concealed his face. Then he nodded. "All right. Just to confirm, we'll quickly go over it once more, before we let the others know."

He leaned down, and dragged a finger through the brown dirt. Jett watched as the flyer drew a simple replication of one of the machines. The thing was basically a giant metal ball that had two tiers of guns, and two round orbs – one on the very top, and one on the very bottom. And of course, the two stubby legs that held the whole thing up.

"So," the Smoke flyer tapped the drawing, his finger kicking up a small puff of dust. "These things have upper and lower sets of guns, right? The upper set, which is mostly made up of long range missiles and such, is guided by this -" he pointed the round orb at the very top of the orb, then moved his finger down to the bottom orb. "-and this guides the lower set, which are strictly short range laser. Simple enough design, but effective enough to prevent us from getting close enough to take them out."

He paused, making sure that Jett and the others were following him. The pale yellow flyer, with his back to the group, was keeping a watchful eye on the machines. One lifted a foot awkwardly, and plummeted it down as it took another step in their direction. Thud. The ground trembled beneath its movement.

"Hurry it up," the pale flyer warned. "If it gets any closer, it'll spot the kid."

In response, the red Smoke flyer glanced up, caught sight of the nearing machine. He quickly returned to his drawing. "Yeah, okay. So it seems that the smaller guns at the bottom here are strictly for defense. They're rapid fire laser cannons, so anyone that gets near has to face a rain of laser bolts. Which makes pretty much impossible for anyone of us to get close enough to hack off one of their legs. But you, Jett. . .you just might be fast enough to get in there."

"And destroy the bottom black round thing?" Jett asked. "Are you sure that's going to stop the guns?"

"Well. . ." the red flyer shrugged. "I'm not sure. . ."