Conflict

Part 1, Chapter 3

"Pull up!"

"Strip, pull up!"

Upon hearing his name, Strip came to his senses once again. That wasn't Rick's voice. It was Izzy's. He glanced over and saw her driving across the field towards his position, passing Diego's smoking body on the way.

Wait. What did she say?

The ground was getting dangerously close, and so was that building. Blinking to rid his vision of whatever fluid streamed from his hood up to his windshield, he wound his thrusters up for more power and pulled his wing flaps up. It took nearly everything he had left to avoid a straight-on crash, but he managed to get turned around.

That was it – all he could manage. He was leaking something all over the grass beneath him as he tried to land. Was that oil? Transmission fluid? It didn't matter. He started to lose feeling across his right row of pistons. He nearly laughed as he thought about the irony of what it would be like to die before ever actually fighting the enemy.

He hit the ground hard, leaving a path of uncovered dirt as he plowed through the grass, coming to a stop near the center of the courtyard. He closed his eyes as the pain started to set in. Blocking out the yelling and the rumble of approaching engines, he could hear the wind blowing through the blades of the grass, and a couple crickets nearby. He focused on that, finding it oddly peaceful.

It was chaos for a few minutes. Half the brigade went to check on Diego, who aside from a rudely amputated wing, was functional and in once piece. The rest of them followed Izzy and Rick as they sped towards Strip, the gorier scene and thus more interesting.

"No, I swear to you guys, that wasn't intentional," Izzy heard Diego say as she passed. "I don't like him, but I'd never kill him."

"I think you just did," another voice commented. It sounded like Matt, the black and white Daytona.

They could be dealt with later, she told herself. There were more pressing matters. She glanced over at Rick as they approached the crash site, and thought she saw worry through his scowl. She didn't quite understand why he viewed Strip differently than he did the rest, but she'd never been happier to have that be the case. Maybe there would be hope for him, or maybe the damage wasn't that bad.

It was that bad. In fact, it looked even worse up close than it had from across the way. Izzy panicked when she saw him sitting so still with his eyes closed, and rushed to his side to nudge him. Rick quickly removed his hood and assessed the damage.

"Eww," a chorus of disgusted sounds rose from behind Izzy. She glowered at them, but admittedly acknowledged that the damage was nauseating to look at.

"Header's busted all to hell. Valve cover's shattered. That spark plug wire is just gone." Rick mumbled everything that was immediately obvious to him. He'd always told them saying things aloud made them easier for him to remember.

"Hey," Izzy prodded her brother again with another gentle push. "Can you hear me? Come on. Wake up."

"Hmm." Her voice pulled him out of his dream-like state. He cracked his eyes open and seemed disturbed to be looking at the mess inside him.

"You take my hood off, and you take me out of my happy place?" he grumbled weakly, looking around. "What is wrong with you guys?"

Izzy rolled backward and sighed with relief. Rick cast a sideways glance at her and shook himself.

"Don't relax yet. We're not out of the woods here. Strip, can you change back? The wings are gonna make it hard to get you back inside," Rick asked quickly, but clearly.