Free Fog Bastards 1 Intention by Bill Robinson Page A

attention."
     
     
I take the folder, shake my head, and mumble my way to an empty table. Captain Amos apologizes for me, and is soon sitting at the table next to me.
     
     
"Decided to be an ass this morning?," he asks.
     
     
"Jen and I are having issues. My fault totally, but still takes the fun out of cheating on her."
     
     
A hearty laugh comes from the captain. "You need to work it out. She's not one in a million, she's one in a lot more than that."
     
     
I grab the paperwork without responding, and we check to make sure Ms. Mankat was joking about not putting enough fuel in the plane to get to our destination. In fact, she has given us a little extra, noting that the wind reports have been sketchy. Captain Amos gives me the paperwork to turn in and heads to the head. I take the hint.
     
     
"Sorry I was snarly before Taylor, it's been a bad few days."
     
     
"Hit the beach this afternoon, and I expect a big smile next week," she says, giving me a big one of her own.
     
     
"Done." I smile kinda lamely at her, but it's the best I can do. The captain and I walk out to the gate, and do our jobs as quietly as possible. He decides that he will fly the plane to Hawaii and I will do the return. Maybe he's afraid that I would fly the plane into the ocean instead of landing it. Little does he know that I would walk away from that.
     
     
Or maybe not. Reminds me that there is one set of tests I have not done. I have fallen from a few hundred feet into the ocean, run my head literally into the sand, and bounced off of many a canyon wall. I have not tried stopping a bullet, or a knife, or a rocket, or a rock, and I have no idea how protected I am when I am me, not him. Really don't want to stab myself to find out either.
     
     
On the other hand, I still get paper cuts and they are still as annoying as they always were. I got sunburned on the beach (but was pasty white again after flying around that night. The light works better than aloe.). When I hit my toe in the dark on a table or bed post, it still hurts like hell.
     
     
We push back right on time, wait in line behind eight other aircraft, and then I once again get to marvel at how smoothly Captain Amos gets us in the air. I can't do it as nicely with or without the plane. No cloud cover today, but a sharp and unexpected change in wind direction about 18,000 feet up which launches us into 30 seconds of heavy turbulence. Flying on my own I have experienced that kind of turbulence up close and personal. It makes me appreciate having the mass of aluminum around me. I got tossed half way to the ground the last time I hit that big a bounce without warning, while the 757 moves a few feet and resets itself back to equilibrium.
     
     
At altitude the air is smooth as glass today, and I set about picking the captain's brain. I have always relied on his career guidance, and I decided months ago that there was no reason to change. Without knowing it, he's helped me build a plan for the next two to three years. Beyond that, of course, the only planning I need is estate.
     
     
The plan is simple. It all depends on me actually learning to fly, run, and whatever else I can do. That might be the bug in it.
     
     
It says have a quiet year. Secret activity only. Save some lives, stop convenient smugglers, eliminate a few nukes, destroy scattered weapons caches. Learn the world close up, not from 10,000 miles away or 35,000 feet above.
     
     
Then go public, though I have not decided what the agenda should be. The Captain, without knowing what he was doing, convinced me to have the quiet phase, and has helped me target a few targets. Lately we've been talking about how to make permanent changes in the world. Jen thinks you can't. Captain Amos thinks you can, but even he stops short of thinking he knows how.
     
     
He makes the usual perfect landing in Kona, and we head off to play golf with an American crew we met a month ago. I play like I fly (by myself, not in the