Storm Spotted (Welded Sunset)
#237 of Short Stories
A condor mecha is asked to take some measurements.
~ Well above the glimmer of ocean below, the mechanical condor gazed calmly out across the top of the hurricane as she lined up her approach for another run of scans with sensors to penetrate down into the depths of the clouds. The stars above were flickers of pinpricks, and the moon a loud croon of light across her twenty meters of wingspan. Her balance shifted somewhat, as she settled into her chosen route.
~ The stream of radar and sonic data was interrupted as her radio keyed up into a priority level two call, the unheard of but technically possible real time communications link. She held her wings in place firmly, not nearly so juvenile as to disrupt her flight with the startlement she felt. Gingerly, she accepted the contact.
~ "Recondor-57; there's a request.", a distant ground station with only the mild distortion of overly compressed audio.
~ "Confusion.", the great bird confessed.
~ "That storm below just went through the Gaton processing facility yesterday, and ground crews confirmed that some of the storage units may have been knocked open. We don't know what's in the winds."
~ "Concern.", the condor empathized.
~ "We can't order you that far outside your design parameters, but you're the only who can get into that storm in time to measure what's stuck in it and let us know what countermeasures need deployed."
~ "Consideration.", the condor stalled as she peered over the fragile length of each of her wings.
~ "Your call, gliding bird. We need to know within minutes."
~ "Consent.", the condor affirmed as she opened her beak and leaned into a dive towards the storm. "Compassion.", she explained before routing all of her sensor feeds into the link where audio would have been.