TF (inanimate)

“So that’s the briefing, sir,” General Watters said. “Uh, any questions, Mr President?”

“Just one,” the US President said from his chair. “How many stars are you?”

“Er, four, sir.”

“Four. That’s good.” The President steepled his fingers. “If you had, say, two I might have wondered if you this was some kind of prank. Three, I might have wondered if you’d gone mad. But four … hell, with four stars I have to believe that what you’re saying is true.”

He sighed. “Go ahead, General. You have my okay. But this is top secret. You’ll report directly to me or the Vice-President. No one else.”

“Yes, sir. Understood.”

“Oh, and one more thing.” The President stood. “May God have mercy on our souls.”

*

Six months later …

Watters looked around the room, and the men and women gathered there. No more than 30. Plus him and his lieutenant, and the scientists, of course.

The cream of the cream. The best the military had to offer. All of them had got through the stringent testing process, the background checks, the brutal training. He was proud of these bastards. They’d accepted his offer to come here, knowing they’d be cut off from their families, their friends, that they’d never be able to tell anyone about their time here. Hell, they didn’t even know where “here” was.

He walked to the microphone as the crowd waited silently.

“Good morning,” he began. “I’m General Norman Watters, and I’m in charge of this operation. Six months ago today I was telling the President what I’m about to tell you now.

“The military is at a crossroads. Technology has become increasingly important. We’ve got drones, smart bombs, remote warfare. We can wage battle sitting at home in our pyjamas.”

The President had chuckled at that one, but this crowd was silent.

“But we’re rapidly reaching the limits of that technology. You can only make a smart bomb so smart. What we need is a way to make our weapons as smart as our soldiers. And it turns out the way to do that … is to turn to a very old technology.

“In a word, magic.”

He paused. Still only silence.

“Yes, magic. The way to make our weapons as smart as our soldiers … is to make our soldiers weapons. Dr Snaut, could you demonstrate?”

“Uh, with pleasure.” It didn’t look like a pleasure to the nervous-looking scientist, her glasses slightly askew. She walked to the front of the stage and removed something from her lab coat.

A small bottle full of a viscous green liquid.

With a sick smile she removed the stopper and drank the potion. A kind of ripple ran through her.

She expanded. Forced down on all fours, her body elongated horribly. Her feet turned black and rounded. Her arms flew back and lengthened. Her chin blew out into a cone.

Another ripple of colour ran through her, and there on the stage was a drone plane. A plane that had once been a woman.

There was still silence, although a kind of electricity ran through the men and women gathered before the general.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, ladies and gentlemen. It’s true. Transformation potions are real. And they’re on our side.”

He tapped the nose cone of the drone. “As you can see, the doctor is now a drone plane. Doctor Snaut, how are you feeling?”

Another stir ran through the crowd as the scientist’s facial features appeared on the cone’s surface. “Uh, well, I’m fine, sir. Ready to fly.”

“That won’t be necessary, doctor. Feel free to change back at any time.”

The plane shimmered, and the scientist stood blinking in the light. General Watters nodded. As a biological chemist and a descendant from a long line of witches, she’d been invaluable to him.

He peered out at the audience. “Any questions?”

A moment of silence, then: “Just one, sir. When do we start?”

*

Three months later …

The plane flew high above the clouds. If Stacey still had skin, she would had shivered. Of course she did not. What she had was steel and bolts and a body crammed with technology.

With a thought she established communication with the other planes in her formation. “This is Wilkinson. Todd, you out there?”

“Stacey! Yeah, I’m here. How about you, Kyle?”

“Roger that. Nearing target. Stacey, you’ll be up first.”

“Cool. How’s home base?”

A new, more formal voice broke in. “Pilot Wilkinson, home base is monitoring. You have five minutes until target area. Begin loading.”

“Yes, sir.” Stacey banked to the left, following her pre-programmed course. Now she was a plane, she simply knew where to go, like it had always been in her mind. “Okay, bombs, listen up. Time to get loading. Mike, you’re in.”

“Yeah!” The bombs began to lower themselves into the bomb bay. “Ready, willing and able, Stacey. Drop me and let me go. I’m ready to explode!”

“Got it, Mike. Good luck. I don’t need to remind you what you’re bombing. Remember, do not go off until you check out the target visually. Any sign it’s not what we think, get yourself back here.”

“I know, cap. I’ve exploded before.”

“I know, Mike. Okay, here we are. On three … “

With a thought Stacey opened her doors.

“One … two … three!”

Mike Mandel fell out of the plane with a mighty “whoo-hoo!” Stacey groaned to herself. They really had to stop showing Dr Strangelove to the bombs …

A roar and a plume of smoke and heat that Stacey sensed rather than felt. So it had been a chemical weapons plant. As a storage facility, there would have been no human facilities. She hoped. What the hell, she knew her job.

Todd and Kyle released their bombs, half of which would return to the planes, unneeded. The others, well, the exploded ones would, thanks to the transformation potions, simply return to human form back at base.

Mission over, she banked and the course home took over.

If she kept this time, she’d be able to slip out after debriefing for a beer or five. That guy Ben Marshell had caught her eye. He was cute … when he wasn’t being a tank, of course.