Equines and Airships

A pressurized panel sprung upward from the metal floor with a screeching hiss. Gaseous fog filled the chamber, spilling out in all directions.

The panel slid away, revealing empty space below. With the whir of a moving platform, an antenna rose up from below. It was attached to a tire-shaped aircraft which emerged a second later.

The engine stalls… and the metal below snapped back into the ground.

“Prototype 384B prepared for final check,” a female voice announced over the speakers. “Repeat, 384B ready for final check. Testing will begin in 10 minutes.” A dozen engineers ran up to various areas around the ship, clipboards in-hand. One man observed the activity from afar, carrying a PDD - Portable Desktop Device.

A.Z watched from her post two stories up through a plate-glass window. She was surrounded by a massive curved control panel with 3 monitors. Her assistant, S.P, managed similar stations all around the room behind her, surveying the array of monitors across the back wall.

“A.Z!” a voice came through as her PEP - Personal Earpiece - crackled to life. “A.Z, come in.” She pressed the button on the side of the device.

“A.Z here,” she said. “I’m running a test now, Mister R.”

“I’m aware of that, chief,” the man said. “L.M is on his way to replace you.”

“What?” she replied. “Why? You know a chief can’t be replaced during a prototype test unless—“

“I know the protocol,” Mister R cut in. “It’s… you see, it’s… Code Zeta 355.”

“WHAT?!” Her breath ran short. Her knees buckled as the room started spinning. “A-Are you sure?”

“Yes, we are,” he said. She gulped for air. “Report to my office.”

She let him know she’ll be there and cut off communication. She informed S.P that her replacement was on the way. Slumped against the hallway wall outside, she caught her breath.

She was starting to think this day would never come. It had been 17 long years with no hope.

She was one of the few agents who had a personal code assigned just for possibility her supervisors could help locate a person.

She could barely process it. At long last, thanks to this secret technology, she was finally within reach. Only one word, one name, one concept was on her mind…

“Benny!!”

***

She stepped into Mister R’s grand office, closing the door behind her. No matter how many times she saw it, it never ceased to surprise her.

The walls were lined with ornate portraits and each corner sported a mechanical or scientific display. Even the lamps were gold-plated and the glasses Cristal.

“Take a seat, Azalea,” he said.

“Sir!” she exclaimed, looking around. “You shouldn’t be using my real name.” He grinned.

“My office is the most secure place in the country,” he said. “Even more than the White House, remember?! But no one will know.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. They nodded to each other.

“Plus right now… you’re not A.Z. You’re not an agent, are you?” Her jaw hardened in the quiet pause of a moment. “You’re just a sister, Azalea Jetso.”

She let out a muffled sigh of relief. “And…you’ve really found my brother?”

“I personally haven’t, but my bosses have! We caught him on one of the camera-birds two days ago. We did a second sweep of the area and captured a better view of him and… well, facial analysis just came back.”

“So… it’s him? It’s Benny?!”

“Benjamin Andrew Jetso, yes. 98.8% match.” He slid a photo across the desk and she peered down at it. Everything had been so heavy, but now she had to muffle a laugh.

“He has a beard!”

“Yes. There’s probably a lot about him that has changed. He frequents this tiny remote town in Wyoming.”

“Wyoming?! Wait… it can’t be.”

“Yes! But, with five passes over the area… we haven’t been able to pinpoint where he actually lives.”

“Hmm… well…. Permission to borrow a prototype?”

“What?”

“Yeah, one of our aerial prototypes, maybe M class? They could bring me directly there and detect him.”

“Out of the question!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s too risky.”

“Those things are armored. I’ll be fine, and will bring it back in peak condition.”

“No, not risky like that.”

“Then what?”

“We still haven’t achieved the cloaking capability. It will be seen!”

“Ok, but isn’t that what Shadow Protocol is for?”

“You’ve been away from the news too long. Remember 1947? People are still discussing that the story of the crash in Roswell changed overnight.”

“Ok, but —“

“We didn’t get to the Army fast enough… and they let slip to the press about recovering a ‘flying saucer.’”

So we did major damage control! What did they think was going on? We had to force officials to recant… removing all original records, and having a dude pose with balloon debris to convince everyone that’s what it was.”

“But sir, it’s been over a decade. Surely they’ve perfected the methods since then.”

“Of course! But cracks are always forming. Someone grabs a photograph of something in the sky. Or someone else starts telling their story of an otherworldly encounter.

So we send out the hybrid agents. We may get the film, the journals, etc. But then, despite all intimidation tactics, the agents themselves become the story.”

“What do you mean?”

“A couple of people have still talked, about their experience with the agents, anyway. The media has started calling them The Men in Black.”

“Wait… really?”

“Yes, really! This is what you don’t have to worry about, reverse-engineering inside these walls. On the outside, our liaisons are busy keeping curtains up around us and the… visitors.”

“Ok, I’ll be careful. I know how to fly stealth. Please, Sir.” He sighed and looked down.

“I’m sorry. Permission denied.”

***

A short flight and a long (long) taxi ride later… Azalea was in Cheyenne. Packing light wasn’t a problem, because she barely had any possessions to begin with. But, always have a pack… and always be prepared!

That’s what a good friend of hers used to say. She grew up in a small town

The taxicab swerved through slick streets, and avoided potholes as best it could.

She brought only paper maps, and one — she talked them into ONE — personal communication device.

She knew legs of the journey, but only separately. Two long, disjointed legs stretching into a count-down calendar.

The cab pushed through between grooves in the hot desert sand. It was like trudging through brown sugar. Warmed-up brown sugar!

What an old-fashioned way to travel, she thought to herself.

Once the tops of high buildings could be seen above the monotone horizon… she knew she’d made it. At least to closest place that could be called the city. The place they called Cheyenne.

The cab pulled in and dropped her off without fanfare. She got out, and immediately felt like she stuck out like a sore thumb.

She thought a subtle black evening-gown would be appropriate, but here she could see any women around were wearing pants. Horses galloped back and forth, rode by men in full cowboy garb.

She may have worked in New Mexico, but she definitely didn’t think this was still a thing anymore.

All eyes looked at her as she pulled her bag out and proceeded to the welcome station.

She didn’t know where to go or what to do when she got there. What does one do then? Every step seemed to echo, even in sand and grass.

“Miss Azalea?!” a strangely familiar voice yelled out. She’s spun around with violent jerk.

“Excuse me??” she asked, looking around for the source of the voice. She hadn’t heard that name in a very long time not only that, she nearly forgot that name existed.

How can anyone know that name out here? Out here in the middle of the Old West? Her mind was racing.

“Hi! Over here,” the woman’s voice called out. The thumping of hooves could suddenly be heard. Azalea turned and saw her. It was a pleasant-looking woman with an inviting smile and mysterious, dark blonde hair. Riding towards her on a brown horse.

The woman jumped off her horse when she reached Azalea, and after landing… gave her a big grin.

“Deb?! Deb Gunderson?” The wife of the man responsible for her brother’s disappearance. It was the last person… well, second to last person… she wanted to see.

“It’s Deb Salazar now.” Azalea’s eyes went wide. “Yeah, don’t worry… I divorced the dimwit!” She did let out a sigh of relief.

“Wow, I can’t believe it! I guess we have a lot to catch up on.”

“Ha, I guess we do!”

“Like how in tarnation did you end up here??”

“Oh shoot, I can tell you that! Long story, though. Come on, I’ll get you lunch and a horse.”

“Oh… no, I don’t—“

“Come on! I think I can help you find Benny too!”