"Told ya I wasn't the one that needed fighting," Foxtrot muttered, putting himself a little ways away from the situation. He didn't even recognize the base they were talking about, and he could already tell that it was bad. However a base could be bad, anyways.
Clara's eyes lit up in recognition and excitement, however. "Foxtrot… that's where my sister is. That's where Tera is," she looked more alive now than he had seen her yet. For a moment, at least… her face fell as some unknown thought passed through her mind. "What about this town? You've been nearly ripping it apart… what about its residents here? What about Foxtrot?"
"Propwash Junction is a cesspool for traitors. 'Tearing it apart' is a security measure for the good of the planet," the first forklift said quickly, "We can't have people working for anyone but the Government. That's why the superiors have vehicles like Foxtrot… his control center will find another risky town eventually, and they'll send him or someone else to go check it out. That's just how it works."
"Tearing the town apart…" she repeated in a hollow tone, "Not all of us are traitors… what will you do to them?"
"The town will be under military rule for a while. Traitors are either killed or repurposed… anyone that isn't a traitor won't be impacted much." The loud whirr of a helicopter sounded like it was just above the ground.
Foxtrot moved over to the door, pushing it open slightly out of curiosity. A heavily damaged Felix was suspended from a steel-cable net… the helicopter was trying its best to put him down gently, but it seemed to be uncertain of itself. "Well, they caught him."
"Which means we should get out of here. That runway needs to be clear," the forklift started, "Now, Clara, are you going to cooperate? We don't wanna do this the hard way if we don't have to."
She didn't want to. Her mind was racing, a strange mixture of emotions coursing through her. There were several odd things on her mind - things that scared her. "What happens to Otter?" She suddenly blurted, "He's taking care of my sister's dog… she's at Luke. If I'm going, can I bring her dog with me? What about Foxtrot? I don't mind if he leaves, but I need to know I'll see him again soon. Promise me that and I won't cause trouble… please…" There were thousands of others things on her mind: Felix, Streak, Dusty, Leadbottom, Dottie, Chug… everyone. What would happen to them? What exactly would they do with her?
The forklift hesitated, thinking it over for a second. "Foxtrot, go talk to Rose and tell her what's going on. You can be repainted at Luke. They have to accommodate hunters anyway," she told him, the plane obeying immediately and leaving the hangar. "As for the dog, it's unsafe. Most of the planes there are too unstable to be around animals. If the plane herself is competent, then they'll send for the dog separately."
"You're dancing around my question," Clara stated with clarity, "What will happen to Foxtrot? I understand he has a job, but he's my husband. Whether or not he remembers, he believes it as much as I. For his sake, mine, and yours, we can't lose each other again."
The forklift was obviously flustered, being pressed for time. "None of us have that kind of power, so I can't promise anything. It's up to his handler, the superiors, the base, and him. They all have to be in agreement if anything is to be changed, because, as of now, he has no reason to be making trips like that."
Clara wanted to lash out, to make her promise, but a sense of cold logic held her in chains. She couldn't attack or she'd be dead, and if she were dead she felt she'd have failed Foxtrot. She was fighting for him, and fighting Them wasn't going to accomplish that goal. She slumped back. "I'm assuming we leave now, then…"
"Yep," the forklift replied, carefully watching for a second to make sure Clara really wasn't going to fight. It didn't seem like she was, so she went over to the hangar door and opened it, the other forklift in the room staying close to the plane. "We're just going to the transport plane on the runway, okay?"
"Okay," she agreed with defeat. "What's going to happen to me when I get to the base?"
The forklift attempted to formulate an answer - something that hopefully wouldn't make it worse or cause the plane to lash out. "They're gonna make it so you can keep up with other F-18s when you start training." She led her out of the hangar, trying to ignore the carnage nearby. The helicopter sent to capture the escaping traitors had kept them alive, but only just.
"You know I'm not a fighter, right?" Clara stated with slight annoyance. "I'm a r-"
"You mean to tell me you're tearing this town apart civilian and all just because you suspect there are traitors here? I understand Felix and I'm going to pretend I understand how Streak is involved l, but…" It was Otter and he sounded angry. Clara couldn't remember a time when the F-18 had raised his voice. "You're not going about this in any good way. If you need to flush out traitors then be my guest, but you're ruining a community that's been here for centuries!"
"What's gonna happen to him?" Clara asked as she listened. She suddenly grew frightened, glancing about, attempting to find Foxtrot: a foundation, someone she could trust… Or, she thought she could trust.
"Directing your anger at us is going nowhere," the forklift countered, noting that it was yet another war-plane that had spoken, "We have our orders, which is something you should know all too well. The original plan didn't even involve the military - just a scout - but then he discovered more criminal activity that had to be addressed."
"I understand," Otter seethed, "But I also know that there are many other more civilized ways to go about this." He seemed to be shouting at nobody in particular, blind eyes staring vacantly at the horizon. "I'm sure if I could see I would like it even less. What do you plan to do with us, hmm? You know you can't just come in here ravaging the town and leave without any questions asked. Even Leadbottom will have something to question once he finds out his fields were ripped up in all this shenanigans. If you plan on leaving the innocent here, I need something to tell those who are staying. I'll have more than enough clients after you go busting through here."
The forklift turned to face Otter, regardless of if he could see her or not. "We kept destroyed crops to a minimum, I assure you. Fuel is too valuable to waste. As for the innocents, you tell them this: there is an unimaginable threat coming here. So large that it could destroy everything our superiors have worked to achieve. Any weakness on our side will mean the end of the world, and drastic action is necessary to make sure that, one: the military is as large and strong as possible, and two: any traitors are destroyed before that threat arrives."
"So you'd like me to throw them into panic," he grumbled, resisting his urge to pace at the dilemma. "I can't just tell them that it's possible the end of the world is near. The town's already stirred up enough to cause paranoia." Otter sighed, for the first time picking up on the sound of Clara's engine. "I'm assuming that's what the transport plane is for then, to send you to some far-off place never to be seen again? How am I supposed to keep this place sane when people are disappearing and being beaten into submission and taken away?"
"Because the world's not gonna end, so long as people just let the government do what it's doing. That's why the fighters are being drafted. They're not going away forever. Just until the war is over." It was odd, considering she was talking to another fighter… but his blindness was something that wasn't easily fixed. He would've been in the military already if that wasn't the circumstance.
"People are going to want more answers," Otter hissed, "I know you have your reasons for not telling me the whole of what's going on." With all the ruckus, his wings ached to fly, his mind wanted to fight. It was a terrible infestation of feelings. "But I can see what I can do."
"I've told you all I know," the forklift countered, almost indignantly. Even so, she made a mental note of the plane's existence. The government might still be interested. "Trusting is all anyone can do. And now, Clara, we need to get going-"
"Hey! Wait!" It was Foxtrot. "Clara, I'm coming with you. I gotta wait 'till that plane takes off to follow, but I'll be there, okay?"
She managed a soft smile, "I'll see you there then." She wished desperately she could fly herself to Luke, but she supposed that'd be taking the risk of her running - not that she would. "How long's the flight?"
"Two and a half, maybe three hours. Plus security if it's needed…" the forklift responded, keeping an eye on both Clara and Foxtrot as she led her to the transport plane. Foxtrot in particular was acting oddly. She chalked it up to a glitch of some sort. "...they don't see a ton of outsiders... other than trainee fleets."
Clara grimaced at the idea of being locked up in the back of a transport plane for more than an hour, but continued in fear of being punished anyhow. "So you're saying I'm going there to be trained." To kill? She didn't like -no- she hated that idea.
"It depends on what you're capable of." The doors on the transport plane were already open, the forklift carefully guiding Clara up the ramp. "They'll put you where you fit best. If it's there, you'll stay there. If not, you'll be trained at another base. The only reason you're going to Luke first is because you're not a standard model, and the mechanic there is good with planes like that. Well, optimizing them to fight, anyway."
Again, she grimaced. "Lovely." Changing the subject, she asked, "Do you know where my sister is? What she's doing? Is she still at Luke?"
"How should I know?" The forklift was lying - that was part of the reason why the base didn't want Clara to begin with. "From what it sounds like, though… she could be anywhere. I'm sorry..."
"What? Did she run away again?" Clara asked bitterly, not expecting any answer. "If you plan on kidnapping us one by one, you should keep better track of us."
"I'm not saying that. I'm saying I don't know. I'm not the one in charge of all that… but I do know that fighters don't run." The transport doors slammed shut, florescent lights brightening the space inside as the plane's engines engaged.
"Then you don't know my sister," she flinched, jumping slightly at the rumble of engines beneath her tires.
The forklift's voice grew soft, barely audible over everything else. "Maybe it's you that doesn't know her."