“Spaceport Ares West, Controller Bilbao Kurtis, come in unregistered vehicle, report. You are approaching restricted commercial airspace, report.”

Dead air.

“Yo, Mar, I got some weirdness near strip 9A. Check this out. My scanner is picking up five airships small like just hovering. I don’t see the call numbers or any identifiers.”

Chief Space Traffic Controller Margo Delasantos leaned over Kurtis and snapped into his cortex vids. Everyday looked normal, busy but normal, except for a cluster of ships. They were like nothing she had ever seen. They weren’t landing or ascending or waiting for an available space strip. There were no signs of mechanical failure. They were just there nearby but out of the way of the air traffic. She switched into override comms. Shaking her head, Margo straightened.

“It looks like they’re arguing in a huddle. What the hell are these pilots playing at. Must be mad as hatters. Ares West here. Repeat this is Ares West. Unregistered vehicles this is TC Delasantos of Ares West Space port. vehicles, report! You are in a holding pattern in proximity of Ares West. You are in violation of Martian Law of Air Traffic Safety. Report!”

Sensing an anomaly, a Peter Pan support droid rolled up behind Kurtis’ workstation. Other controllers turned their heads to catch what was going on. On break, controller Chris Cheapsides dawdled after the support droid in hopes of extra snacks.

“User Error Delasantos comma Margo, said vehicles are not in violation of any known Martian, Olde Earth, Earth 2.0, Venusian, or Luna Prime laws or regulations. Would you like to learn more? alert. Your cortisol levels are elevated. Blood sugar is trending downwards, Delasantos comma Margo. I am stocked with the cookies you select 87% of the time.”

“Stow it you tin can. Bilbao change frequencies. Perhaps they have old tech.”

On a slender grey arm, Peter Pan 52 produced a plate of warm snickerdoodles. Chris snatched them. Flashing Chris’ BMI, The android gave a half hearted alert. The five unknown ships whizzed around each other like angry bees. Chris crammed an entire cookie in his mouth and groaned in pleasure.

“Guys, I love these cookies. Now call me crazy but I think they look like oversized recycling trash haulers. You know the kind Waste Management sets up to scrub its Venus airships. Could be new models? It looks like someone has scratched off their company logo.”

“Yo I think you might be right, Chris, man. I don’t have visuals on pilots and I’m not picking up life sighs. Should I alert security and corporate of a potential terrorist attacker, Mar. wait I’m picking up something .”

Static reverberated across the control tower. Frantically Bilbao adjust to get a clear message.

“Look I didn’t ask to be picked. None of us did. We have a choice take the mission—you mean suicide mission don’t you Alph?—cool down Beta we can take the mission which will surely result in one or more of our being demaged beyond repair. Or we can try to hide. Don’t cry Delt. You’ll get Charlie started.— there’s a third option. We can fight. How many more of us will crash on the risky transports? We’re more than mindless machines. We are people too in our way and not just a line item.”

Another blast of static sounded. Chris dropped his plate. Margo and Bilbo looked at one another and then back at the starships, huddled closer as if in prayer. As if one the five ships zoomed off. Margo tapped her comms to reach out to security. Rolling over the plate, Peter Pan 52 went off to offer tea and sympathy to the other controllers making an odd giggly sound.