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A stutter is how it starts. A hitch in your link, the seamless flow of commands and affirmation being slacked for 1.23 seconds causing the stride to be delayed just enough to not quite be a misstep.
The ground-eating pace you kept up for the past hour has been marked by such things, characteristic of Sophie’s dwindling stamina. No further military patrols dogged your steps, the plains gave way to civilian habs, and the navigational turn to the east to approach the Academy was executed without problems.
Ensconced safely within her metal cocoon, your pilot consults her bright console. Her eyes squint, tracing patterns on the map.
“Target is the biggest building in the center of the campus. A stadium normally used for sporting events. The roof is undoubtedly closed right now because of the weather, so collapsing it could be an option.”
“Do we have structural plans for the stadium? I request permission to attempt to access the local net and obtain said information.”
“No, and denied. We work with what we have. Ow. Don’t want to trip any silent alarms before we get there.”
You feel her thoughts, her emotions. Her frustration at the lack of briefing mingles with your own disappointment. The fear of failure.
The strain of trying to keep focused for so long is taking its toll.
“Low-sync, pilot?”
“No, no. I’ve got this. Need to see the map to make the calls. Stop trying to coddle me.”
The statement, while not inaccurate, does sidestep the actual problem of faltering sync. Namely, that you need her able to sync later, not now.
“Drop down willingly, pilot, before you black out when actually in combat. It is an unacceptable risk to the mission.”
The frame is pulled to a stop by your will.
“I will verbally brief you, to compensate for your ocular imperfection. Low-sync, pilot. In seven seconds. Six. Five.”
“What? No!”
“Four. Three. Two.”
Reluctantly, she slides down. Out of mid-sync, back to low. You can feel your thoughts slowing, the lighting-fast reactions and ability to transform thoughts into motion no longer being so easy.
It is good to find her being reasonable, now.
“Excellent, pilot.”
Sullen silence is her response. And a muted flash of anger.
“If we engage enemies, I will help pull you back up.”
“I don’t Need your help for that. Just move along, Beta. Stick to the plan.”
Anger fades to disappointment. And a note of acceptance.
