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Most people would consider putting a coffee machine in the cockpit of a tightly-engineered, finely-crafted, invasion-fighting ship at best dubious, at worst wasteful and irreverent.
But when you’re one of the absolute best pilots on the entire planet, you can pull some strings and leverage a bit of clout to keep it off the books.
There was not a lot of space inside the cockpit, amongst all the panels and the wiring, to accommodate much in the way of comfort and luxury, so when Null had an opportunity to sneak in one unofficial addition, she settled for a humble, but very much appreciated brewing apparatus. It was sufficiently compact, leaving enough room to store a handful of bags, and it was even possible to harness some of the ship’s inherent heat to make some cups.
The ship was resting in the hangar. Null was scheduled to depart in 15 minutes, and had been assigned to investigate the area around the abandoned facility, with the twin spires ominously pointing towards the stars. As she went over the mission in her head, she was starting to try and consider every outcome, the possibilities, the contingencies, the danger, the risks, the threats lying in wait, her thoughts spinning in circles. But she had enough time, she figured, to calm her nerves with her favorite drink.
She leaned over to her side and opened a tiny panel with the label “Human Fuel” on it. Thankfully, she’d remembered to stock up on all three variants of her favorite Wherhein coffee. Different brews for different occasions. What was she in the mood for this time? Mild, Intense, or…?
Mild
She settled for the most relaxed of the three blends. This was the one that she’d often share with her fellow elite pilots, whenever they needed a gentle boost. This one made for a pleasant, tranquil state of mind, perfect for lengthy missions and staying calm in bad encounters. The auto-brewing program took care of everything while Null took care of a few pre-takeoff checks.
After a few minutes, the coffee was ready. A tiny pop-up appeared on her main screen to notify her, accompanied by a soft ding. The drink rested in her standard-issue cup (not her favorite cup, she liked it too much to risk damaging it whenever the ship suffered any impact), and then Null gently clasped it between her hands, taking small sips as the engineering crew in the hangar started to prepare everything for take-off.
The coffee brought familiar memories to her mind. Talking with fellow pilots, hanging out at night with D-13, and flying above the clouds during sunset. With every sip, the nerves disappeared in the slightly sweet blend, giving her the calm she needed. When it was over and she was feeling satisfied, she put the empty cup back to its resting spot beneath the machine, closed the panel, and started firing all of the ship’s systems.
With the courage of caffeine in her veins, the ship gracefully emerged from the hangar, and flew to the horizon, feeling ready to complete the job.
Intense
Tonight she needed something a little bit stronger, with a bit more of a solid boost. If she couldn’t calm her nerves, then at least she could face it with some enthusiasm, at least. This one wasn’t one to be shared with those who didn’t have a taste for it.
After making sure to add the right amount of this particular blend, and doing her usual checks, the coffee was ready. Taking the cup in her hand for a few seconds to let it cool slightly, then slowly raising the cup and taking a precautionary sip, to not burn herself.
It didn’t even take more than a handful of minutes before she could feel that slight buzz coming over her. Yep, that was the good stuff. The wakefulness and sharpness, helping her focus and home in on those reflexes and decision-making that had saved her multiple times. But she knew well enough to pace herself. This was a strong coffee that merited respect.
Her mind went to all those moments where she needed to pull a stunt, or make a critical decision in seconds, or fly in a rush to save someone. While it was dangerous, she felt that she made some of her most important decisions in situations like that. And when danger was so commonplace, she often needed to be in that state of mind to pull through.
After a few more minutes, the cup was returned to its spot, as she turned off the machine, and went through all the usual takeoff procedures in a breeze, confidently flying out, ready to take them all on, feeling fully fueled for fighting.
Sudden Death
Null pulled aside the two other blends and pulled the one bag at the far end of the panel. The black bag with bold lettering also brandished a warning label at the front and back. If D-13 was here, he’d tell her this was a very bad idea. And he was probably right.
But... this whole mission was a bad idea. She just had a very bad feeling about this. And in this state of mind, no other blend would do. Thank goodness she’d managed to smuggle this on-board and avoid questions.
This was a drink that demanded diligently measuring out the water and the exact weight of coffee going in. Dialing in the exact temperature, timing the brewing process to the second, and serving precisely as much as she needed, not a drop more or less, and then immediately turning the machine off and commanding the computer to dump the grounds.
As she gingerly grabbed the cup and put it aside, peeking at the dark, steaming liquid, part of her was already regretting this. While it cooled, she absent-mindedly went through the checklist, trying to ignore the hunch in her heart that this mission somehow would end very poorly. Soon enough, she was ready and waiting for the rest of the ground crew to finish. And with trepidation, took the coffee cup, and gulped it down, mouthful after mouthful, until it was empty.
The taste was almost vile. Bitter in a way that made her tongue curl, and her lips frown, especially after she coughed up a bit. After shoving the cup back into its place and tightly shutting the panel, she got a grip on herself while the coffee did its thing.
The last time she had this feeling was the night D-13 almost died. Panic, anxiety, dread, and fear. Something inside her was telling her that tonight something terrible would happen. She didn’t really have any specific or concrete idea as to what would go wrong… it was a nebulous, ill-defined feeling, and it only heightened her nervousness.
The technician had barely finished opening the gate and informing Null before the ship violently blasted out at top speed, the pilot clutching the controls as she tried to control her breathing and concentrate, hoping that the strongest caffeine would dissolve her dread.