Two jets accelerate toward their target. One soars through the air. The other roars.

“Porpoise Four to Beagle Three. Closing in on the target. Over.”
“I have eyes. Over.”
“In a mood again, I see. Over.”
“I guess. Can we drop the formal crap?”
“All right. Over.”
“Very funny.”
“Sorry.”
“I’ve just been a bit troubled.”
“This isn’t going to be a gay thing is it? My old flight partner had a gay thing. Not that I had a problem with it. I just wish he hadn’t been all…gay about it.”
Silence reigned.
“Sorry.”
Silence was deposed.
“Have you ever traveled abroad?”
“I’m a fighter pilot. All I do is travel abroad. Hell, we’re doing it right now.”
“I’m not talking about blasting some village you can’t pronounce. Have you ever spent some time on the ground?”
“Guess not, come to think of it.”
“Why not?”
“I guess I see enough from up here.”
“All I see are burning buildings.”
“Good enough for me. That’s what makes a society: what it builds. You know. The stuff that reaches the sky.”
“And the people inside?”
“Details.”