Free The Nerdy Dozen by Jeff Miller Page A

jets, the cockpit seated the pilots next to each other rather than in front of each other. A console of controls was situated between the pilot and the copilot, and the seats were facing a sprawling dashboard of HD displays and various buttons. The backs of the seats were pressed to the backs of those for the two auxiliary pilots, causing them to face in the other direction out the rear of the jet.
    Neil shimmied past Trevor’s pilot seat and sank into his own. He put his hands up as the flight technician fastened him into his seat, firmly securing a safety harness that covered both shoulders. A helmet with a sliding shaded visor was handed to him, with a mouthpiece to be snapped on during flight for communication and oxygen flow.
    â€œSo how’s this invisibility stuff work, anyway?” Neil asked.
    â€œScales,” said the flight technician. He wore a jumpsuit similar to Neil’s, a pencil haphazardly shoved into his thick, springy hair.
    â€œScales?” Neil asked.
    â€œLike a chameleon. An actual chameleon,” replied the soldier, making sure Neil’s in-flight mask was working properly. Seeing Neil’s confusion, he went on. “In nature, chameleons have scales made up of chromatophores, things that kind of store colors in little vesicles. These change color when signaled to do so. Our invisibility works the same way. There are millions of microscopic scales that cover the aircraft, and they all help bend the light hitting the entirety of the plane, even on the glass of the cockpit. From any angle, you can see only a perfect re-creation of the ship’s outer environment.”
    â€œWhoa, cool,” Neil said.
    â€œFuture is now, kid.” In his grip, the flight technician held a shiny white tablet. He whisked through pages of electronic information until he found the one he was after.
    â€œIf you could, press your hand here,” he said, tilting the cool glass rectangle toward Neil. Neil touched the screen and watched as a line scrolled from top to bottom, tracing every detail of his hand.
    â€œNow whenever you need to get in, just place your hand on any part of the craft. The cockpit will slide right open, even if it’s invisible,” the soldier explained. “This works for any of the Chameleons. Once you’re in the system, any of them will open for you.”
    He patted Neil on the top of his helmet and the side of the fighter twice before he disappeared out of sight. Neil secured his helmet and radioed to Sam.
    â€œManofNeil to ShooterSam . . . Samantha. Miss Shooter Samantha,” Neil fumbled.
    â€œNeil, it’s just me, Sam.”
    As Neil searched for something to say to Sam, Trevor labored into his seat, his eyes focusing on the controls in front of him.
    â€œWhat’s up, compadres?” chirped Biggs, who was stepping on board. He slapped Neil and Trevor on the back and settled into his seat behind Trevor. “This thing got cup holders?”
    â€œMy lords,” said Riley, following Biggs onto the plane.
    As Biggs and the others proceeded with safety checks and the palm scan, Jones walked up the stairs and poked his head into the doorway of the aircraft. In the cramped space, he moved with the finesse and grace of a recently injured rhinoceros.
    â€œRecruits,” he grunted.
    â€œWe look forward to soaring in this iron-forged, bird-less carriage with you, Our Jones,” said Riley. Jones craned his neck and cupped his hand around his right ear.
    â€œWhat was that? You all should speak toward my left side. Have a bit of trouble hearing outta this ear,” Jones explained.
    â€œâ€™Tis nothing of import,” Riley said sheepishly.
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    Trevor, Neil, Riley, and Biggs all watched as Jones struggled to squeeze into his emergency jump seat at the back of the plane. Neil felt suddenly grateful that he wasn’t in Biggs’s or Riley’s seat. They would have to spend the entire flight looking directly