Chapter 26: Sims are not Aircraft

Ready to start the day, James opened the door to the motel room in order to answer the mammal who had just knocked from the other side. He froze, staring with eyes wide, at the mammal who greeted them with their ride. "K-Kyle?"

The wolf grinned back at the group, but especially flashing his fangs at James. "Cousin Jimmy! They told me to expect you today, but you know, until you actually see it for yourself..." He wrapped James in a quick hug, letting go quickly enough before things got too awkward, helped by the clipboard he was holding. "Actually, they straight up told me to come and pick you up, so I figure someone high up knew that we're related. But hey, why should I complain? Gives me a break from fixing planes! So how's the big city cop life treating you?" But instead of waiting for James to answer, he held out an open paw. "I'll need to check all of your IDs before I can drive you over. So unless you have any questions, this shouldn't take too long." He gave James a shy grin. "Yours as well Jimmy, even if I know who you are."

He went through Nick's and James' IDs without much of a fuss, only copying some information down before giving them back without a word. It was when he glanced at Bandog's that he gave it a second glance over. "Um, is that it?" He glanced nervously at the horse. "There's no information on here. Not even a name."

"It has a picture, the TAC NAME, and our squadron," Bandog grunted in reply. "That should prove to be enough, I would think. At least whoever sent you to pick us up should have told you that it would be enough."

Kyle let out a long sigh as he copied the information to his clipboard before giving back the paper to the AWACS officer. "That's hardly standard information," he complained. "Nor can I say that I was told about it. Whatever. It's something I can fill out. After all, figure if my own cousin can trust you guys, I can too."

"Don't we all?" Bandog smirked as he took his ID back.

"What's with the line across the picture?" Kyle asked Count when he got to the information on the first pilot. At Bandog's instructions, both pilots were dressed in their flight suits, not that they semed to have any effect on generating a reaction out of Kyle. "Doesn't block off the picture, either. Just gets in the way. Actually? No, never mind. We'll be here forever if I try to figure it all out." He ignored Count's own smirk when he returned the second to last paper, but despite his words just moments ago, he stared at Trigger's paper, eyes widening slowly. He glanced over at Trigger, staring down at the shorter canine.

While he didn't say anything, it wasn't hard to guess that Trigger was feeling uneasy at the strange silence. When Kyle still didn't say anything, despite glancing several times between him and his ID, he finally had enough. "What?"

"You-you're Three Strikes!" Kyle breathed out. "I mean- I always thought it was just a rumor! And you know? Silly stuff online! You know how things spread! First some false thing in the news, then the message boards get a word of it..."

Trigger rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm him," he confirmed with an annoyed huff, paw outstretched for his paper back. "Now do you mind..?"

"Yeah, sure, just a sec here-" Kyle smiled nervously as he copied the information down. "Just that I wasn't expecting you to be, uh…" His ears flattened in embarrassment as he glanced between Trigger and James. "Well for Three Strikes, I thought he'd be taller," he finally admitted.

"Kyle!"

As angry and scolding as James was towards his cousin, the effect was completely lost due to the hysterical laughter coming from Count and Bandog. Trigger, for his part, simply gritted his teeth and jerked his waiting paw for his papers again.

"I'm sorry!" Kyle pleaded. "But between what's on the news and the rumors flowing around this place? I just didn't think that the Three Strikes was someone barely tall enough to reach the rudder pedals!"

"Kyle! Enough!" James raised his voice even louder this time, no longer as a disgruntled family member, but as a disapproving police officer. "We're here for a reason. Commenting on people's height is not one of them." Despite being physically slightly smaller than his cousin, his tone and angry expression more than made up for the difference in physical stature to the point that Kyle actually took a step back.

Regaining his composure, Kyle nodded and motioned behind him with his head. "Right. Uhh, car's this way. I'll drive you over to the other side of the airfield." Gathering their gear, he lead the group to the vehicle, with Count and Bandog still poking jabs at Trigger's height as they loaded into it.

Although calling it a car was somewhat of a stretch. While just about as large as their own patrol interceptors, the car Kyle had brought over had no doors, and was barely anything more than a frame of metal piping strapped around an engine and placed on four large wheels.

Finn would love to have one of these, Nick thought as he helped the pilots load their bags into the back seating. For that matter, Carrots too. "Nice ride! Where can I get me one of these?" While leaving its occupants exposed, the lack of parts to break also meant that this car was not afraid of anything.

Kyle glanced over his shoulder at the officer. "Sign up for the force if you want to drive one of these," he then shrugged. "But you'll soon see that this is more looks than anything. Rather underwhelming performance, actually. Glorified golf cart, these things are. But what can I argue against? Does exactly what it was designed to do."

Looking at it again, and at the gear already taking up a not inconsequential amount of space, Nick had another question. "So how are we all going to fit in this, anyways? There's six of us and only four seats."

"Well, I'm driving," Kyle answered slowly, clearly only thinking about the issue now. "Jimmy, you can-"

"-James. Or even better, Officer Wolford," James corrected with a huff.

Kyle's jaw dropped, and it took him a few moments for his mind to catch up. "Aww, come on, Ji- James! We grew up together! It never bothered you before! Ever!"

"You're the one in the military, not me," James said helpfully. "Wouldn't want your superiors hear you act so casual? Besides, it just sounds weird since you know me well, but no one else here. So for the sake's of consistency."

"They're not here!" Kyle pointed out. "When they'll be here, I can be as formal as you please, but until then, relax, would ya?"

"Hey, dogs, quit bitching around and let's get on with business, shall we?" Bandog interrupted with a smirk. Nick and Trigger, who weren't involved in the little squabble, glanced at each other with unamused expressions.

"Right, so getting back on subject," Kyle said forcefully, "Officer Wolford can ride shotgun. Count and Bandog, you can take the back seats. Wilde and Trigger? The back bed area has folding plastic seats with seat-belts. I'm sorry, but they're made for smaller mammals, and the two of you are small enough to comfortably sit there. Well, more comfortably than the rest of us. Does that answer your question, Wilde? And is that all, James?"

"Riding in the back is perfectly fine for me as long as Trigger's getting the baby seat!" Count answered giddily as he waited for Bandog to get into the back seats before following in. "Say, Trigger, you wouldn't need a boost to get up there? That's a very large car! What about you, Wilde? You good?"

Gritting his teeth, Trigger hauled himself up to the back. "As soon as we're in the air, I'm going to make you regret ever joking at my height," he warned. "So enjoy it while you still can!" Noticing Nick struggling to get a good grip to climb up, he reached down and helped pull the officer up.

"I'll admit, that was rather embarrassing," Nick muttered quietly, nodding towards Trigger after the help getting up. It was at times like these that he felt envious of Judy's natural hopping abilities. Strapping himself in next to the pilot, he had to admit that as they got going, the unusual view of watching the scenery from the back was rather unique. Plus, the air flowing past his head offered a pleasant cooling sensation compared to the early morning desert warmth. However, the simple plastic seats, which Kyle had insisted were large enough, in true military fashion, were… not. In fact, they were much more suitable to someone Judy's size than Nick, which left him slumped over uncomfortably, legs sticking straight out in front of him awkwardly. Which come to think of it, it must be that much worse for the yet larger Trigger.

Glancing at the pilot next to him, at his booted legs, Nick started to wonder just how it was that Trigger was able to stand wearing those. The idea of deliberately enclosing his feet just came as wrong. If anything, he couldn't imagine tolerating his claws rubbing up against the waxed hard cloth that the boots were made from. "Hey, Strikes, just a thought-" Nick frowned slightly, when he noticed that despite only hopping up a few minutes prior, Trigger already had his eyes closed, and breathing slowly despite the bumpiness of the ride, head bouncing against a support frame. "Well, if you can hear me, you're missing out on the view," Nick finished, crossing his arms. Oh well, Trigger's loss.

Some ten minutes later, Kyle pulled the car over next to a large concrete building. "This is our stop," he announced with a hint of excitement.

"Doesn't look like much," Count said with a frown as he gout out of the car, looking over the large gray block that was their destination. "Hope it's more impressive on the inside."

Kyle nodded excitedly. "Don't worry, it gets a lot better inside! Whatever you think it's going to be like in there, it's even better!"

Count raised an eyebrow. "How would you know? I thought you were just a mechanic."

"Yeah, but I've been in there," Kyle countered, only to shut his mouth when the doors to the building opened and a Animalian senior officer came out to greet them. Dropping the conversation, Kyle snapped into a salute when the officer came over.

Quickly returning the salute, the officer turned his attention to the guests. "Officers of the ZPD, pilots of the OADF, I welcome you to our airbase." They all quickly introduced themselves, but luckily, it was a quick if rather formal affair. And to his credit, if he had any issues with only being given TAC names from the Ocelotians, he didn't complain about it, even as he grabbed the clipboard from Kyle and read through it quickly. "I'm glad to see that you are already dressed to fly, as it will save us a lot of time," the officer said after the introductions. "However, I'll show you where you can get ready inside, for you will be needing your helmet and G-suits."

Count and Trigger glanced at each other, but it was the taller pilot who broke the question. "Wait, you're saying that we're actually going up today then?"

Despite trying to sound bored with the question, Nick saw right threw it and at the eagerness hidden underneath. He grinned to himself, catching how quickly his ever-increasingly unused hustler mind caught the disconnect in tone, even as the others around him failed to notice.

"Well, no," the Animalian officer answered. "There were no plans to have you two fly. Everything's going to be done indoors."

Count frowned, ears lowering in agitation. "But… no, you're kidding."

The officer raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

"Why would we need to put on G-suits for something inside other than to ride in a centrifuge?" Count scoffed. "Trigger and I are qualified pilots. Can we skip the spin and puke? Or do you really not trust us that much?"

The officer stared at Count, mouth closed in a narrow frown. "I'm sure you will change your mind when you see what we have in mind," he finally answered. "Sergeant Wolfritz, if you will, mind showing the pilots to the changing rooms? Have them get ready for flying. Have uh… Let's go alphabetically, so set up Count for station one, and Trigger… Have him be in station fifteen. We'll swap them out as we need to."

"Yes sir!" Kyle answered, snapping a salute and turning to Count and Trigger. "You heard him, follow me." Making sure that they had their equipment bags with them, he lead them off inside the building, leaving behind Nick and James alone with Bandog and the officer.

"I'll be taking you to the operations room," the officer explained to them, also now leading them into the building. "That's where you'll be able to observe the pilots today. Bandog, you'll be acting AWACs for them for today. I do believe that you will find our software identical to what you Ocelotians are using, but do let me know if you will have any issues with it."

Walking through the building, the officer took a delight to playing tour guide to the officers and Bandog. A few short minutes and a couple of corridors later, and Nick an James were herded into a small, darkened room that reminded them a lot of the interrogation observation rooms back at the precinct. But unlike the observation rooms, this one was also filled with computers and various monitors stacked on the long tables lining the walls, and the single window was rather smaller, peering into a large room filled with a large, almost-rocket looking contraption.

"We have a few minutes while the pilots are getting ready, so feel free to look around. Bandog, this here's your station, so make yourself at home."

Ignoring the officer, or perhaps doing exactly as he suggested, Nick stared through the window, James joining him, trying to figure out what he was staring at. While he was impressed by the sight, he couldn't help but also think that someone with a lot of money was trying too hard to replicate what a science lab is supposed to look like on television.

"That's our centrifuge," the officer explained, answering the officers' nonverbal questions. "We use it for G training for our pilots, but that's not what it's going to be used for today." There was a hint of pride in his voice as he spoke. "This one's the only one of its kind in the world so far. Attached to the end of the lever arm is not just the standard mock canopy, but an articulated, full motion flight simulator. Years of research, software development, and engineering solved most of the kinks of trying to get a centrifuge to tolerate the rapid rotational changes needed to simulate the full range of flight. In short, this thing is the closest you will ever get to flying outside of piloting a real jet. The most realistic simulator on the planet, and by a long shot. Almost a shame that others don't know more about it, but we tend to not go out of our way to advertise it, actually."

James let out an impressed whistle. "How well does it work?"

"It doesn't simulate the range between zero and one G very well unfortunately," the officer admitted, "and struggles with the low negatives as well. But otherwise, for the vast majority of forces felt during flight? Pilots reported struggling to tell the difference between the simulator and actual flying. Which is precisely the reason why we had you bring the pilots here for today."

Nick peered at the centrifuge again. Even as he now better understood that what he was looking at was a marvel of engineering, he still couldn't help but think that it was hardly anything to look at. It was certainly no Zootopia climate wall, that was for sure. "Are we even allowed to see this?" he asked, "sounds like something you military guys might want to keep silent."

The officer grunted in agreement. "Perhaps. But it's not like we will be showing you anything that is actually secret in this. Plus, we did make sure to run full background checks on you two, just to make sure. Say, Officer Wilde..?"

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Is it really true that you spent time homeless? And that part of that time, you were working for the Zootopia mob?"

Feeling Jame's concerned expression bearing down on the back of his neck, Nick knew that now was not a time for lying or making things up. But then again, he didn't survive for years as a hustler for nothing. "You mean is there a part of my past that you are concerned about you needing to be worried about for the future?" Nick clarified, slowly but confidently. "No, you don't need to worry about any of that. No one I knew would have any use for military secrets on how to build their own…" he waved his paw around vaguely motioning around the room, "...centrifuge. But if you do question my integrity, just ask our chief all about it. He'll set the record straight for you."

The officer hummed a satisfied noise. "Already did. Chief Bogo was more than happy to answer all of our questions. Though, I will admit, perhaps, that I should have known better. After all, having a partner who's legally the godmother of the child of said mobster is sure to force you to keep on the straight and narrow path."

Nick smirked. "Between the ZIA, ZBI, and our own Internal Affairs, I can assure you that neither I nor my partner Officer Hopps are able to so much as stop by a roadside venue to buy a pawpsicle without an entire team investigating to make sure that it isn't a secret drop-off or something. So I speak for both myself and Officer Wolford over here when I repeat myself as clear as day: whatever secrets you have in here, we're not looking for them. And whatever might be gleamed from this room by accident, well, will stay in this room." Next to him, James nodded in concurrence.

From somewhere else within the building, Kyle's voice came through and out of a speaker up in one of the walls. "We're just about done setting up here. Just a few more minutes!"

Grunting at the news, the officer turned his attention to James. "You should be proud of your cousin, Officer Wolford," he said, "probably the best mechanic we have this side of the continent."

"I uh- well, thanks," James answered dumbfounded. He wasn't sure if the officer was pulling his leg or not. Sure sounded sincere. But from the few times Kyle had the opportunity to get back home on vacation, he never talked about his work as something he was exceptionally proud of. Much more, Kyle would complain about the endless, tedious but hard work that offered few chances to relax in between fixing aircraft.

"You three done comparing egos back there?" the annoyed voice of Bandog concluded for them. "Pilots are just about ready." Sure enough, two monitors flickered on to life, one showing the helmeted head of Count, contrasted only by the unhelmeted head from Trigger. The deer was visibly fidgeting with his helmet, as though it wasn't able to fit on properly.

James found the behavior odd, especially since Count had spent a good hour the previous night, locked in the motel bathroom, cutting down his antlers to be flush with his head. The odd behavior was explained as Count let out an annoyed huff at some bad advice from someone next to him off-camera, before he simply pulled at his collar, and rotated it around so that the brick portion pointed straight forward, but also avoided the sides of his helmet.

The Animalian officer pulled out a microphone and set it close next to him, taking a seat besides Bandog, where he can monitor both pilots as well as the AWACS screen at the same time. "Count? Trigger? If you're ready, we can get started. We'll start with the basics, then proceed from there. Any questions?"

Count glared at the camera in front of him. "Yeah, I got one. Why are we still wearing these collars? Stupid thing is getting in the way of my helmet. Makes rotating my head hard."

"Just leave it on, Count," Bandog answered into the microphone in an annoyed tone. "You're not the only one wearing that here. Trigger's not complaining."

"Yeah, but to be fair, I'm not wearing my helmet yet," Trigger added. But despite being in a different room than Count, he still tried to be helpful. "The collars aren't that big, Count. There's got to be a way that you can adjust it to make both fit!"

Muting the microphone on the desk, the officer glanced between Bandog and Nick and James. "It's my understanding that the pilots had to wear shock collars the entire time they were with us? What's with that? If they're getting in the way of their testing performance, I say we just take them off and not worry about it."

Bandog grunted in disdain. "Direct orders from our CO. Bastard's being paranoid that we won't follow his orders if he's not around or something. Had the collars shipped overnight as soon as he found out that their transport was shot down over Zootopia. And no, don't ask me how he had those collars ready to go, I never even knew about them until after they were sent out. He even was nice and polite in only making sure that I have my collar on me the moment I stepped on my plane to fly out here."

"Is that some sort of usual problem, not following orders?" the officer asked with a raised eyebrow. His voice hinted at a disapproval of the implications at what he was implying. "I was under the impression that your unit is a high performer, with many achievements under its belt. Or am I to assume that both Ocelotia and Urusia are lying abut how well the unit with painted tails fights?" He grunted. "Although I can also suppose that your CO is not very good, that's always also an option."

"Understatement of the century," Bandog answered with a sneer. "Don't worry, spend thirty seconds talking to him, and the question you should be asking yourself is this: how come he hadn't yet had one of the pilots drop a bomb on him 'by accident'? But to lay it out for you, and something I hope our pilots won't show today, but yes, discipline within the unit was shit. Still is, in many ways, but their performance vastly improved, especially once Trigger here transferred in. Of course, then they were tasked with being relocated, and got shot down on the way over, and now we're all here." He motioned at the screens where Count and Trigger were busy following advice on, and demonstrating their knowledge of the aircraft systems the simulators were for.

For Nick and James, though, they quickly found their presence in the room to be rather unnecessary, and by extension, the time spent there extremely boring. If work as cops made them tolerant of large stretches of time spent simply waiting, it still didn't take away from the fact that they didn't even have paperwork to work on as they waited, and for all the previous fuss about the simulator Count was in being able to replicate the entire g envelope of flight, the thing had yet to move even after several hours.

At least Bandog and the officer were still going at it about anything and everything related to four-four-four, although both officers could tell that the AWACS officer was avoiding answering a lot of the questions being sent his way. Eventually they used one of the many monitors in the room to look over some sort of file, barely paying any attention to the pilots, and from what they were saying, discussing some sort of mission.

As tempted as Nick was to listen in, this was one of those situations where he kept his mind and ears away from something that he might eavesdrop on by accident. Then again, he was in the room and there wasn't much to do otherwise, but he really didn't want to test the military's patience when it came to foxes.

Luckily, the boredom was pleasantly interrupted suddenly by a beep from the door as it unlocked, revealing a smiling Kyle as he came into the room, holding a plastic bag that he revealed contained small cups of coffee for everyone. "They're getting ready for actual flight simulation, not just ground and systems work," he informed Nick and James. "Things will actually get interesting soon." He jerked his head at the two monitors that showed Count and Trigger. "I mean, it's Three Strikes in there! Guy's practically a legend!"

"Yeah, just don't let him hear that," James added quickly but quietly. "We found out the hard way that he really doesn't like being reminded of it."

Nick sipped from his cup, finding the flavor to only be marginally better than the plain stuff back at the precinct. "Claims it's all propaganda anyways, and that he's no better or worse than any other pilot."

"Yeah, but one of them has to be the best pilot in the world," Kyle suggested, "why can't it be him over there? Does he really not want to be the best? I mean, if I were a pilot, I would."

James shook his head. "Kyle, you have yet to listen to him talk about the friends he lost," he said in a somber tone. "Sure, he and Count might talk shit over who's the better pilot, but he, well, doesn't like the notoriety, let's put it that way. Or if you want, just wait for his collar to go off on him. Whatever's going on inside his head, I don't mind not carrying that baggage."

Kyle chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah… I uh, didn't think of it that way. The worst action the pilots out here get is when they go and intercept a Russian or Yaktobanian bomber that flies close to our coast. Oh, and if you happen to run into one of our pilots, don't tell them that I said it, but when it comes down to it, we get all the funding in the world for them to get as much training as everyone else combined, but…" Kyle grinned nervously at his officer's direction, but the Animalian wasn't listening to them. "It's not like our pilots get to actually try out their skills in a real fight. Not like the Ocelotians do." He jumped, startled as Bandog suddenly hissed at them.

"Pipe down back there, will you? They're getting ready to take off, and I'll need quiet in this room!"

"Sorry, sir!" Kyle stammered quickly, eyes wide and ears flat at being caught gossiping. He glared at a smirking James, gently shoving his smug cousin, but not quite willing to do the same thing to the equally smirking Nick.

With an annoyed sigh and a flick of his ears, Bandog returned his attention to the two screens for the pilots. "Trigger, Count, stand by for the scenery to load in, and listen to the tower's instructions regarding your next steps."

Compared to Trigger's single word of acknowledgment, Count's answer was far more flowery. "About time we get the show on the road. I was starting to think that pure white is what you're supposed to see out of the canopy."

"Quiet, Count! Focus on your training!"

"Hey, pretty graphics! The sims back home don't look anywhere as good as this one!"

"Count!"

Kyle shuffled uncomfortably. "They always argue like that?" he asked quietly. James just shrugged.

"It's always good to know that there are other units out there where the lead yells at everyone else," Nick said with a very wide smirk. "Can't let Buffalo Butt be the only one who does that!"

At this comment, James elbowed his fellow officer hard in the ribs. "Wilde! Not here!" Nick raised his paws defensively, but to his credit, didn't argue or shoot out another remark.

"Hey, Trigger! You'll need to get into this sim quick! You can really feel the acceleration of takeoff!"

"Sim One, shut your trap and continue with your climb out, or we will swap you out early." It didn't sound like Bandog was bluffing either.

"Fine. Roger."

With Count finally listening to his instructions and only occasionally mouthing back at Bandog, the next few minutes were what James could only describe as listening to a foreign language. He could listen in on things such as "-winds two zero zero at one zero-'", and sure, he was able to understand the individual words, or numbers, and guess that it had something to do with wind, but what? The phrases as a whole had no meaning whatsoever to him, and James had to admit that he was now on the receiving end of what someone listening in on a police radio might feel like. But both pilots had none of these issues, and went about performing various maneuvers, demonstrating their skills ad pilots and acquired understanding of the new aircraft cockpits they were in.

Kyle was more than willing to fill in the missing information for Nick and James, but as it were, for the most part, it was a rather uninteresting sight. Well, for the most part. About half an hour in, as they were sent on more complicated and difficult maneuvers, it really became apartment just how different it was for the two pilots. While Trigger went about it all in silence, if anything looking bored as he did so, Count was a whole different story.

The deer shook and swayed as he sent his simulated aircraft into rolls and climbs, the centrifuge reacting to his control inputs. With the camera observing him the entire time, James and Nick were able to observe how he struggled to breath during the tight turns, straining against the G forces acting against him. But if Bandog and the Animalian officer were trying to get him to do something that he wasn't able to, Count was able to match everything they asked for, and then some.

Still, watching Count struggle against the strain of another turn, James winced at the sharp and short gasps of air coming from the pilot. "How hard is it to keep yourself from passing out?" he asked Kyle.

Kyle shrugged. "Let me put it this way… If you don't know what you're doing, you can easily kill yourself. So no, you won't be able to get a ride in there. And neither will you, Wilde, so don't even bother asking."

Nick closed his mouth, grinning slightly, about to ask just that since Kyle did bring it up after all. "Aw, come on! What about-"

"No!" James bumped fists with his cousin at Nick's peeved expression.

And more luckily for them, if Bandog and the Animalian officer heard them, they weren't reacting. A few commands typed into a computer, and a new order came out. "Sim One, incoming bogey, eighty miles, heading three one zero, angels twenty. Make visual identification."

"Radar contact spotted, wilco. Hey, is the IFF not working or something? Should be able to identify the contact from this distance. C'mon, Bandog, I'm getting nice reminders of a certain mission here!"

"Count! Stop!" Instead of Bandog or even the Animalian officer, it was the transmitted voice of Trigger that halted the latest spat before it can proceed any further. Nick and James shared a look between themselves as they both recognized this as a rather sore spot for the pilots, and one that had earned more than an argument or two before.

Also ignoring Count's quip, Bandog simply continued to monitor his screens. "Getting closer to the bogey, Count. Visually identify and report back."

"You got it, boss!"

Kyle looked even more excited now. "That's gonna be a hostile! We're going to get to see Count fight finally!" Despite the excitement, he made sure to whisper, making sure that his voice won't get picked up by a microphone, even if by accident.

Taking advantage in the lull of flying, the Animalian officer got up and left the room, only quickly excusing himself to the officers. A few short minutes later, he came back, two folders in paw. He stopped next to James and Nick, opening up the top folder. "Officers, while we have a few moments, I would like to get your opinion on this," he explained. "While I know that the pilots were tested for, and passed their physical assessments, we did ask for a psychological evaluation to be done as well. From my understanding, that was conducted either four or five days ago, but since you officers interacted with them, I just want to run the results past you two and get your opinion. Unfortunately, I hadn't had the time yet to go over these, as we only received them this morning, but the summaries should suffice for now. So if we can start with Count's review."

James nodded. "We'll do what we can. I'm more familiar with Trigger myself, sir, but it's Officer Wilde here who watched over Count most of the time."

"Very well. So just going over the summary, let's see here… Smart, capable, confident… Too confident, perhaps to the point of overconfidence and recklessness. Very much headstrong, with a strong tendency towards conflicting with authority. Hmm, can't say that any of this is too surprising from what I've seen today, but any of this jumping out as usual to you, Officer Wilde?"

Nick shook his head. "Sounds correct, more or less. Does it say who performed that analysis?"

"Let's see here… A doctor 'Crenspaw'. Know anything about him?"

Nick nodded, but couldn't help but grin at an error in his question. "Her. And yes, she works with a lot of us officers in the ZPD. Really knows her stuff. The best, if you may. So yeah, you can trust what she wrote down."

"So getting back to Count, he's then a regular Maverick," the officer concluded. "Nothing we don't know how to work with, that's good to know."

James blinked. "I'm sorry, sir, but 'Maverick'?"

"A name we borrowed from PawllyWood, you know which movie I'm talking about. Pilots who think they know everything, I'm afraid, and therefor tend to get into trouble. Again, nothing we haven't seen before, and we are more than capable of working with inflated egos. Good thing too, because it costs a lot to train them, and we always hate to kick a pilot out of the force for misbehaving."

Nick grinned again. "With all do respect, but Count here might be a different case." His grin didn't vanish even as the officer glanced at him, expression pressing him to explain himself. "Well, Kyle here- uh, Sergeant Wolfritz, was just telling us how your pilots don't get to fight all that often. So unlike them, Count talks the talk, but he also walked the walk."

"Did the sergeant say that now?" The officer glared at Kyle, who stood firmly at attention, not daring to move. Giving the mechanic a few moments of standing in terror, he instead shook his head, letting out a long sigh. "Your opinion is noted, officer, but I hardly think it's relevant in this case. Our pilots have the best training in the world, with the best equipment in the world, and they all take it completely seriously. Whatever lack of actual combat they might have, but their skills are a more than a match to any Ocelotian or Urusian they might go up against."

Nick shrugged. "Just saying, sir. Count's different. Make it as real as possible, but training is still not a real fight. Never is. There's a reason why you don't hear about brave pilots and their proud simulators."

"Thank you, officer!" The Animalian's tone clearly brought with it the impression that the conversation was over. He glanced at Count's report again, and with a grunt, returned to Bandog's side.

Kyle stared at Nick, slack-jawed and impressed at how the fox got away with what he just said.

"Hey, Bandog, why am I having to make a visual identification in here?" Luckily for them Count's voice turned everyone's attention back to the pilot. "Sure, it's a very impressive simulator, but I'm counting pixels here! Uh, Urusian contact, a drone. MQ-99, I think. I don't recall them ever turning quite this fast in real life. Springy thing is trying to get away!"

Nick felt an uneasy feeling creep into him as he recognized the number as belonging to the drone they found in that underground complex. While he hadn't been worried about slipping into savagery for days now, just hearing the drone being mentioned made him feel a pang of that fear return.

"Sim One, IFF contact confirmed hostile. Weapons clear, engage bandit."

"Righto!"

"We don't actually have good information on how these drones fly yet, so the simulation's rough at best" Kyle whispered to Nick and James, eyes watching Count's monitor. "But I've also been reading up that they're starting to find them in shipping containers and whatnot. Can you imagine? Open up a Conex expecting some cars or something and instead you find the nose of drone staring down at you! And when people say 'drone', they think of a toy you can carry around, but these things are huge!"

"We know." James took his own eyes off the monitors just long enough to give his cousin a sad look. "Kyle, Nick and I had to investigate a building that someone stuck one of these drones in. And some nasty chemicals, too. Anyways, we both know exactly what they look like."

Kyle fidgeted. "Oh, uh, never mind. Is that… Was that when you got sick recently?" He stared at the floor guiltily as James nodded. "Look, I only found out several days after. Had I known sooner, I would have been able to take time off to get to the city-"

"Kyle, enough," James' tone was firm, but not angry in the slightest. "We know you're busy. If it would have been bad enough, then we would have told you. But as it were, we didn't even get hospitalized, just spent the night in the precinct. Don't worry about it."

"Sorry…"

"I said enough! Sheesh!" James reached out and ruffled Kyle's ears, who tried and failed to lean away from the gesture.

Nick flashed Kyle a grin of reassurance. "What? You really think I wasn't able to take care of dear cousin Jimmy? There was nothing to worry about at all!"

"Radar lock!" Count got on the tail of the done and was ready to take it down. "Just need to… Got him! He's mine! SimOne Fox-!" The moment he launched a missile at the drone, the collar around his neck crackled violently, sending a the stunned pilot recoiling back into his seat. The microphone picked up Count's gurgling and gasping for air as he struggled to breath, surprise and betrayal in his eyes as he fought with his own helmet to claw at the device around his neck, exposed light glaring an angry red.

While the others in the room stared at the monitor in shock, Nick and James, already familiar with the collars, stared at each other in horror. James, having the unfortunate experience due to being around more with the more collar-prone Trigger, was the first to regain his senses enough to start ordering the others in the room into action. "Get Count out of there! Stop the sim!" His eyes fell on his cousin. "Kyle, get us over to him and help me pull him out!" After all the time with the pilots, both Count and Trigger learned how the collars worked, and what set them off. There were warning signs, with only the smallest of shocks sometimes happening so quickly as to not be stoppable. But not for a shock like this. There had to be a warning sign, or something! And for it to happen to Count of all people-

Kyle glanced at the Animalian Officer. "Right, uh-"

"Go, sergeant! We'll handle it from here!"

Kyle was already pulling James out of the room. "Wilde, with us! Stay close and don't lose track!" Sprinting ahead, he didn't even wait to see if Nick was even following them or not as he darted left and right through the corridors, earning the very interested gaze of what were unfortunately armed guards stationed at their posts. Luckily for them, word already got through to the one door they were really interested in, the guard waving them through, warning lights on the other side of the heavy doors flashing. The centrifuge was already stopped and waiting for them in the loading position, at which Kyle immediately started the unlocking procedure, grunting as he unlocked the false canopy and pushed it upwards, revealing the still shocked Count, helmet and released collar both tossed aside and leaning heavily against the headrest. His eyes were pressed shut as he struggled to breath, alternating between coughing and wheezing, the sharp stench of burnt fur emanating from his neck.

Trying to inspect the pilot for damage from the side, James was relieved when he didn't see anything obviously wrong. "What happened, Count? Everything was going well, and then all of the sudden-" he froze when Count turned his gaze towards him, furious glare boring holes through his skull.

"How the hell should I know?" Count snapped. "I was just doing my job when this thing decided that it finally wanted to finish me off, that's what happened!" If Count would have been capable of growling, James was certain that's the noise he would be hearing coming from the pilot now. "My own CO wants to do what the Urusians were never able to! What else could it be otherwise?"

With the wolves occupied, Nick took the opportunity to pull a medical first aid kit off the wall conveniently hanging right next to the door, rubbing anti-burn ointment onto a cotton bandage. Picking up the bandage, he went over, gently pushing Kyle out of the way. "Gimpy, heads up!" His three words earned himself Count's wrath, but that was exactly what he wanted. With the pilot turning his head to yell at Nick, he pressed the bandage against Count's neck, narrowly avoiding a fist in the process.

Needing to help Nick out, James grabbed Count's arms and pressed down on them, keeping them in place. "Count! Calm down! We're just trying to help!" To his surprise though, Count did relent, pressing his head back and allowing Nick to work.

"I know you are, it's just that…" Count snorted in anger, visibly fighting with himself to keep him from again attacking Nick as the officer applied the wrap to the burn. "I told him these collars were a bad idea! Helmet jams it right into my neck and-" he had to stop as a fresh wave of coughing overtook him. When it finally died down, he stared at the cockpit in front of him. "Did I at least get the drone? I think I got the missile off before the collar decided to splash me instead." Pushing Nick and James out of the way, he started to unbuckle the straps keeping him in the seat.

"We didn't stick around long enough to find out," James admitted. He watched Count unbuckle himself, but realized that he had zero idea of how to help out here. "Hey, uh, Kyle, do you know how help here?"

"Sure, but I will need to to move over."

And with Kyle's help, Count was free and stood up on wobbly legs, still wincing and pressing a gloved hoof against his neck, collar and helmet held loosely in the other. "I've got to get out of this pathetic unit," he complained. "Can't even do my own job with the way McKinsey wants to run things. Only ever got things done when we don't even listen to him to begin with, why stop now?" Growing sober, he shuffled nervously. "You Animalians are right, this thing is the best thing apart from actually flying," he mumbled, addressing Kyle mostly, "Trigger will love it, that's for sure. But I'm afraid I'll need at least a bit a little to… I dunno, get some feeling back in my neck, I guess. No point in getting back in there right now, at least for now."

"I can take you over to the break room at least," Kyle said with a nod. "and if need to, I really don't think it will be an issue to get you looked at by one of our medical teams. These things happen during training you know." He chuckled nervously when Count gave him a really funny look, waving the collar about. "Well, not getting burned from shock collars, but accidents," he corrected himself, much to James' amusement. "Accidents happen and we try to move on from them."

Count grunted in agreement, rubbing his neck again. "Whatever will get me back quicker into this thing, I guess. Still need to complete the training we came here for." His gaze fell on Nick. "Hey, Wilde, no hard feelings? I'm still really pissed off, but not at you, you know that, right?"

Nick grinned, clicking his tongue and pointing twin pistol fingers at the pilot. "You got it, boss!"

From a speaker in the wall, the voice of the Animalian officer took presence. "Sergeant Wolfritz, take Count to get looked at, and bring the officers back here. After that, have Trigger load into the centrifuge and prep him for flying."

"Yes sir!" Kyle spoke loudly, but his darting eyes told everyone that he didn't actually know where to speak into. "Right, guys, you heard him. This way then. Count, you can walk, right?"

"My neck got burned," Count growled under his breath, "I didn't get my legs blown off. I can walk."

"Count, seriously! Okay, let's go, I'll show you where…" Kyle lead the four of them out of the centrifuge room, first dropping off James and Nick back at the control room before leaving off with Count in tow. Well, almost dropping them off, as the door was locked for some reason. After knocking at it, the officer opened it and allowed James and Nick in, but not before motioning for them to stay quiet.

Bandog was on a phone, cable coiling into the wall, practically yelling into the device. His own collar glowed a dangerous amber as he argued with whoever was on the other end. However the conversation he was engaged in went, the officers only got to hear the very tail end of it as he growled a final "-I don't know what you're trying to do here, but whatever it is, it's not working!" Slamming the phone back into its receiver, he grunted as his collar finally flashed red and gave off a warning jolt. "Is Trigger loaded up yet?" he asked the officer, completely ignoring James and Nick. Pulling out a notepad from a pocket, he started to write something down into it with a nearby pen.

"Soon he will be. We'll be notified as soon as he's strapped in and the canopy locked shut."

Sure enough, Kyle's voice came through a speaker moments later, but it wasn't the news that was being asked for. "Sir, there's a problem here with Trigger. He uh-"

"What is it, sergeant? Why can't you fix it?"

A new voice spoke up, after an audible rustle of the microphone or radio device being taken away from Kyle. "The pilot, Trigger, whatever his name is, is too short! One inch below our hard limit on height requirements. I'm sorry, but regulations are clear! We can't let him inside!"

"What?" The pen Bandog was holding snapped suddenly as the AWACS officer twitched in anger, completely ignoring the yet another warning jolt from his collar.

For his part, the Animalian officer let out a long groan, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You're talking about a qualified pilot here. Put him into larger boots if you have to, hell, tie him up and pull him apart with some cars if that will do it faster, I don't care, but get him inside the centrifuge!"

"I-yes sir! Sorry sir!"

"I'll get the mission prepped while we wait," Bandog announced as he sat back down in his seat. "I feel like I'm going to go insane here otherwise."

Seemingly realizing that Nick and James were actually back in the room with them, the Animalian officer came over to talk to them. "I think we all can agree that what just happened was unexpected, and I apologize for it."

"Who was Bandog yelling at?" Nick asked instead, changing the subject.

"Colonel McKinsey. I don't know what his game is, but he's still insisting that the collars must stay on, even with what just happened to Count. Unfortunately, as it stands now, Count and Trigger are his pilots, so when it comes down to the collars, even as they interfere with the training, what he says goes." He stared at the police officers carefully, reading their expressions. "Did either Count or Trigger ever say anything about the colonel?"

"Not much, just that both of them really don't get along with him," James answered with some hesitation.

"Hmm, I bet."

A monitor next to Bandog flickered back on, revealing a helmeted Trigger finishing getting himself ready inside the simulator. "Oh, is the camera on? Right, just finishing up here… Collar's jamming itself into my neck, I can see why he really didn't want it. Smells like burnt fur. Is Count okay?"

"Count is fine, Trigger. We'll keep you updated on his status. Proceed with startup."

"Roger."

Much like with Count, Trigger was lead through a series of tasks, which he completed one by one in silence, only saying as little as possible. And it was during this portion that Kyle came back to the room, Count in tow. The pilot had a new, smaller cloth wrapped around his neck, and he now looked more pissed off at it than in pain.

"Docs say I shouldn't be doing anything for two days at least," Count explained to Bandog and the Animalian officer, disgust in his voice. "But screw that. I didn't come all this way just to skip out because of a stupid collar. Want to load me into that static sim Trigger was just using then?"

"In a moment, Count," Bandog answered, his own tone hinting at some approval towards the pilot's attitude. But despite the tone, he still allowed a smirk through while adding, "a shame about not wanting to quit though. I'm sure McKinsey would have loved to hear about it."

"I'm sure he would," Count agreed without skipping a beat. "Which is why I don't feel like giving him the good news."

On the screen, having already been run through the more basic simulator already, Trigger went through all of the ground material far faster and got to the flying portion quickly. Even through his oxygen mask, there was no mistaking the grin he sported as soon as the centrifuge started to move in response to his adding of power for takeoff. "I forgot how good this feels," he admitted, "honestly am having a hard time telling that this is only a sim."

"Sim One, eyes on the objective," Bandog scolded, "stay focused." But briefly turning his attention to the room, he then asked, "I've got to be honest, do you get that reaction a lot?"

The Animalian was grinning. "I've never flown a plane nor been in there, but yes, pilots are always amazed when they get in there." He glanced at Count, who rolled his eyes and pretended not be interested.

What Count was interested in though, along with Kyle, was when Bandog has Trigger go through the series of ever more complicated maneuvers. With the camera watching his every move, it was clear that he also struggled with the strain of acceleration, but just as Count did before him, Trigger accomplished everything that was asked of him. But compared to Count, he struggled less to the point where the Animalian commented about it.

"I'm standing right here," Count complained, arms crossed in agitation. "Hey, Wilde, what would you do if Bogo started talking crap about you?"

"Just roll with it?" Nick suggested. "Remember, he always does that! What better way to deal with the only fox on the force?"

"Yeah, that's because you, raised his blood pressure by how much?" Count countered with a smirk. "

"Quiet you two!" Both of them closed their mouths at the Animalian's harsh command. "But while you are all in here, might as well make yourselves useful. Count, we already reviewed the psychological evaluation you and Trigger took recently, but now while he's in the spinner, we might as well go over his." Picking up the appropriate clipboard, he started to read through it. "Let's see here... Higher in intelligence scores than you, Count."

Count groaned and rolled his eyes, letting out a huff of air.

James smirked, leaning towards Nick. "That sounds familiar, doesn't it?" he whispered, teasing his fellow police officer.

"You wish," Nick countered right away, not feeling insulted the slightest. "These tests are biased towards traditional schooling and you know it. You won't survive a night in the streets I lived in for twenty years."

"Officers!" Both Nick and James shut up instantly at the Animalian's tone. While there was little actual risk to them, it was better not to try the patience of the military. "Actually, here's something interesting. Wait, no, that can't be right…" he flipped through a couple of pages, eyes squinting as he read and re-read several sections. Glancing up at the officers, he beckoned for them and Count to come closer and take a look. "Why are his confidence scores so low?" he asked, trying to find the explanation within the pages. "See? Practically no self-esteem. I've never seen numbers so low on an active pilot. Does any of this sound correct?"

"Does it look correct?" Count scoffed. "What are you going to believe more? Sore numbers on a piece of paper, or your own eyes?" He motioned at the monitor showing Trigger's flying. "Does that look like someone without any confidence? Nah, he's in his element right now, and you'll be wrong to remove him from it."

"I understand you flying with Trigger... And fully sympathize with you wanting to protect him, Count," the officer explained carefully, audibly choosing his words before speaking them, "but there's a reason why we have pilots take these assessments." He flipped to a page, and pointed to a note written on it, showing it off. "'Not recommended for return to active duty', it says. You realize what this kind of assessment does to a pilot?"

"So you want to ground Three Strikes because of a couple of words on some paper?" Count growled lowly. "Here's an idea: Burn the paper. And there! Words gone! Besides, it's not like we're flying for you. Don't actually need to care if we pass your standards or not."

"We promised to perform these assessments, as well as all of the training you both are doing, on behalf of your airforce," the Animalian said with a weary sigh. "But while you two are here, you do things our way. To our standards."

"Ocelotia still won't like hearing that you want to ground their best pilot," Count argued again. "Guy sees some shit in an active war and you want to slap him with a medical disqualifier? Give me a break! Tell you what? Take that collar off him, and I guarantee you, you'll see flying like you've never seen before. Basket case or not."

The officer's eyes narrowed. "So there is something to this assessment?"

Count didn't reply.

"Mind giving me a moment? I'd like to talk to the ZPD officers. Excuse us." Motioning for Nick and James to follow him, he lead them out of the room, making sure that the door closed before talking again. "What's your opinion, officers? Of Trigger's mental state? Are the assessment numbers correct or not?"

James shuffled nervously. "Well-" Despite being both the senior officer as well as the one who spent more time around Trigger, he didn't feel comfortable answering the question. He was still searching for the right words when he realized that his silence was the very answer he was asked to give.

"I was afraid of that," the Animalian said, breaking the silence. "It's never easy disqualifying a pilot. And if even ten percent of what's told about this 'Three Strikes' is correct about Trigger, if he's really as good as they say? Then especially all the more. And just from what I've seen today, simulator or not, no pilot is as good with a new platform as either of them are. Count and Trigger in there, they're flying an Eagle like pilots with several hundred hours, if not more. You can't tell that it's their first day with that system. Well, Count was doing well until that collar of his malfunctioned. But that's the thing. A simulator is exactly that, a simulator. No matter how realistic it gets, there's some things it will never be able to do. We figured out how to pair the simulation to G-forces, okay, but then what? Remember what we are asking the pilots to command here: an extremely complicated, but also highly lethal weapon of war. Weapons that can easily kill a large number of innocent people if you are not careful. Pilots need to be in peak mental and physical health to fly combat jets. And Trigger, what I'm worried about, is not."

"And that's it?" James asked quietly. "Sounds like you made up your mind already. Not really sure what either of us can say that will make you decide otherwise."

"As always, there are ways to work around this issues," was the answer. "I was hoping to get a better understanding from you two. I do believe Count knows more, but I also doubt he will give a good answer. While I can admire his willingness to defend Trigger in this aspect, I'm afraid that his ways of doing so is the wrong thing to do right now. So going back to Trigger's scores… He did well in everything, but with his confidence? If he wasn't this 'Three Strikes', we wouldn't even be having this conversation. But do either of you have at least some idea as to what's going on?"

James took in a deep breath. "Sir, with all do respect, Count and Trigger were flying from an active warzone into another one when their airplane went down next to Zootopia. It only makes sense that they'll have a hard time with the sudden transition. Trigger especially, but Count also struggled with it. You literally just said it yourself- they are flying extremely well. And if Trigger has… has some bad grades with his confidence, when it comes down to controlling a weapon of war, does he appear to you like he doesn't have what's necessary?"

The officer stared at James, deep in thought. "What I'm worried about is that Trigger will pass all of our training here, only to flounder when actual missiles start flying," he admitted. "Which considering that he came from combat flying, is somewhat strange of a concern, I will grant you that, but I dare say is still a valid one."

Nick took his turn to raise a paw to signal that he also wanted to speak. "But if he does succeed in everything you have planned for them? Will you give him a chance then?" He put on a brave face as the officer turned his attention to him.

"You're a fox, first in the ZPD?" the Animalian asked. He gave a slight smile when Nick nodded. "I read about it when I looked into your file. Mustn't have been easy to go through the academy. And with a rabbit as a partner to boot. Well, I suppose you know a thing or two about needing to rely on others willing to give you a chance. Although… Let me ask you it this way: If Trigger were a police officer, would you trust him to do the job when a call goes wrong and lives become at stake?"

James exchanged a quick glance with Nick. Truth be told, that was a good question. But it was also one that he had thought of before. And with all the time Trigger and Count had ridden with them on patrol, it wasn't the first time they had to be relied on to do more than just sit in the back seat. But as officers, would he count on Trigger to get involved more than just be reliable in staying out of everyone's way? Deep down, he knew the answer. With a quick breath of air, he answered with two simple words: "Of course."

"What about you, Officer Wilde?"

Nick grinned. "Don't start giving them ideas. Our chief already can barely stand them being around as long as they were. But as for me? Could always use another Bad Cop with Count around, and Trigger? He'll need to start talking more, but sure, he'll be able to do the job."

The Animalian nodded. "I suppose it says even more that the two of you are willing to stand up for them, don't think I didn't notice that," he added. "Officer Wolford, when it comes to Trigger, he's a bit like your cousin, isn't he?"

James' eyes widened. "Wh- no, not really, sir. Trigger is quite different to Kyle- Sergeant Wolfritz."

"But they look roughly the same, no?" The Animalian was sporting a strange grin that made James start to feel uneasy. "Kind of cute, don't you think?"

"What? No!" James was finding it hard not to start stuttering at just how off guard he found himself at these questions. Nick's snickering wasn't helping matters either. "Sir, please. I understand that as an antelope, the differences between us canines are somewhat harder to tell apart, but they look nothing like one another! They don't even have the same fur color!"

The officer held up his hands to show that he meant no harm. "Relax, I was just testing you to see how impartial you were."

"Those were still some rather strange questions," James mumbled back, ears folded flat on his head in embarrassment. To make things worse, he just knew that word of this was going to spread throughout the precinct as soon as they get back. Actually, no, even sooner, just as soon as Nick will inevitably call Judy at the end of the day. Swell.

But before the Animalian could say anything else, the three of them were interrupted by the sudden frantic voices from inside the room as something went wrong. "That doesn't sound good." Without missing a beat, the Animalian already had the door opened to investigate the issue. "What's going on?" he demanded, making his way to where Count and Kyle were huddled behind Bandog, all three of them watching Trigger's monitor.

"The collar went off right as he went to intercept the drone, just like it did with me," Count growled, "except that he was in a high-G maneuver, sand got tossed into GLOC." He leaned over to the microphone on the desk. "Trigger, wake up, damn it!"

Sure enough, in the monitor, the pilot's head was being tossed left and right as the simulator sent him through an uncontrolled fall.

Bandog was on the microphone, talking to Trigger through the process of recovery. "Trigger, recover the aircraft immediately. You're loosing altitude fast." To Nick and James, he further elaborated the situation. "He's not going to have enough room to recover soon. If he doesn't wake up in the next few seconds, he's going to crash."

On the screen, Trigger jerked and flailed as he regained consciousness, blinking as he analyzed the instrument panel in front of him. His eyes widened with fear as he noticed the dire straits he was in, entire body shoved against the seat as he struggled against the simulated out of control aircraft.

James winced as the microphone on Trigger's end picked up the collar going off a second time, the pilot crying out in pain even as he fought against the forces, eyes losing focus as he started to slip into another round of GLOC.

"He can't breath with the collar acting up like that!" Count hissed. "Bandog, kill the sim before it kills him!" Bandog's fist hovered over an emergency stop, but he hesitated as the pilot jerked awake again. But this time, Count was already ahead of him in what needed to be done next. "Trigger, you're too low. Bail out now!"

"Right!" Trigger's weak reply was followed by him pressing himself back, yanking hard on the ejection lever between his legs. Except that, since he was not in a real airplane, the simulator instead started to slow down and level out as the ejection procedure canceled the simulation. Something that his mind didn't seem to realize as he fearfully opened his eyes after not feeling the seat rocket out of the cockpit. "What's going on? Count! H-" he jerked as the collar went off into his neck again.

Growling in frustration, Count was already pushing Kyle, Nick and James out of the room. "Get that collar off him, Bandog!" he yelled over his shoulder. "You three, we need to get him out of that sim!"

Kyle was already taking the initiative. "This way, let's go!"

James had a very uneasy feeling as he followed Kyle the second time this day, the halls zipping past his head far faster than he recalled the first time felt. Shoving through the thick doors leading to the centrifuge room, Kyle immediately started to pry the canopy open. As the metal cover opened up, it revealed a shaken Trigger, helmet tossed aside as he fumbled with his harness, paws trembling with the heavy buckles.

Count made his way past the others, hovering over the other pilot as he helped unstrap him. Undoing the last clip, he helped haul Trigger up, shoving his paw out of the way in order to inspect the neck in the process. "My collar went off only once, what the hell happened to you?" he demanded, sighing in frustration as he inspected the burnt fur. "Are you trying to get yourself disqualified? Between your psych eval and this, do you realize just how close you are to being grounded permanently?"

"What psych eval?" Trigger snapped back, groaning and wheezing as speaking strained his neck. Paw shooting past Count, it clamped around his burnt fur, locking tightly in a faint attempt at protecting the wound. "Oh, that one. Shit..." He leaned against some support railing, rubbing at his neck slowly. "Count, when your collar went off, were you also just about to shoot that drone down?"

"I was able to get the missile off, so that puts me ahead of you," Count answered smugly, "but yeah, something's not right here. But that's only one shock, while you got hit what? Three times?"

Trigger glared at the other pilot. "I was in a tight turn!" he argued, "can't breath when the collar goes off! Went into GLOC!" He stared at the floor, glaring daggers into the metal diamond plating. "Excuse me for not being entirely calm and collected when I wake up to find myself after-burning straight into the ground."

"And the final time?" Count inquired.

"I didn't remember that I was in a simulator!" Trigger yelled. "Hard to tell when the forces are all real! As soon as I saw that I was too low, I bail out only for the ejection seat to not do anything. Damn it, Count, I thought I was going to die!"

"Easy, Trigger, calm down," James warned gently, reaching out to grab the pilot by the shoulder. "Come on, let's get you over to have your neck looked at. Kyle, mind showing us the way?"

"Sure," Kyle gave the pilot a worried glance. "Can you walk all right, or-" he stopped the thought in progress as Trigger shot him a particularly nasty look. "Never mind. This way." He took the lead, taking the group away from the centrifuge on a second trip to the base medical offices.

Taking up the back of the group, Count was wearing a strange grin as they made their way through the halls. "What a wonderful start to getting back to the air, right Trigger? But hey, between you and me, but those nurses they have here? Rather cute if I dare say so. Also, I'm now one ahead of you."

"Don't get me started," Trigger said with a sigh. "And Count, you know that sims don't count. Seriously, what's McKinsey's plan with these collars?" Does he want us to stay grounded for the rest of the war? Ugh, forget it. I'm done trying to figure out what goes on inside his mind." Still rubbing at his neck, he glanced over at Nick. "Hey, Nick, since it's rather silly, but think you can not mention this to Judy?"

"No promises," Nick answered with a grin. "You know that she has her ways of finding out about these things. For what it's worth, you did impress people today with your flying, as brief at it was. You can think of it as there being hope yet."

Overhearing them, Kyle slowed down a bit to let James get to his side. "Who's Judy? Why would Trigger not want her to know about this?"

James snorted in amusement. "She's Nick's partner. And I think she promised to murder Trigger if he ever let the collar blast him at full power again."

Kyle did a double take. "You cops are so strange."

Nick let out a bark of laughter. Despite the seriousness of the situation, it was nice to have something to laugh about. "You don't even know half the story, Cous!"