Back at base, Colonel Vance reviewed the flight data. The NGS’s black box showed a dozen “pilot errors.” Frank’s own report showed a dozen system overrides. An inquiry was opened. Then quietly closed.

He pulled back hard. The rotors bit the air. The Black Hawk shuddered, remembered its soul, and obeyed.

“It flies itself, Frank,” said Colonel Vance, patting the fuselage. “You’re not a driver anymore. You’re a mission manager.”

His co-pilot, Lieutenant Mays, was a kid raised on gaming consoles. He loved the joystick. “See? Just pull back slightly, sir. The flight computer does the rest.”