Sometimes, footfalls can be as telling as spoken words onstage.

In "Grounded," now up in a Frank Theatre production at the Playwrights' Center in Minneapolis, Shá Cage paces the floor with sharp, quick steps. At the opening of this show and against a backdrop of sky-hued screens, her walk is as clear as her words, which are forceful and determined.

Cage plays a fighter pilot who loves nothing more than doing barrel rolls in the blue. Her character, unnamed in George Brant's highly-charged one-act, is at a crossroads. After becoming pregnant, she decides to have the child and to settle down with the girl's father.

But she still wants to fly. Her bosses at the Air Force give her a new mission piloting drone aircraft that are thousands of miles away in the ­Middle East.

In a trailer outside of Las Vegas, she becomes a member of the much-mocked "Chair Force." When she presses a button, the command is given to the drone in less than 2 seconds. The pilot gives up blue skies for gray screens as the pressure and morality of remote killing begins to weigh on her.

"Grounded," which runs for a taut 85 minutes, is a showcase of Cage's theatrical skills.

Shá Cage plays a pilot whose unplanned pregnancy takes her out of the skies in “Grounded.”

She has full command of her character's emotions, and she gives us a frank woman who is powerful in all aspects of her life, from her workplace to the bedroom.

Director Wendy Knox efficaciously uses movement to delineate not just space and time in this production. We also get a sense of the pilot's mental state by the clarity or muddiness of her steps.

"Grounded" is the latest in what seems like a season of solo shows. And it shares elements with Penumbra's "The Peculiar Patriot," whose elegant staging by Lisa Rothe opened last week. Joe Stanley's simple video-screen set for "Grounded" could almost be interchanged with Lance Brockman's for "Patriot."

This is not to say that "Grounded" is derivative, or to cast aspersions on the compelling, charismatic performers of either production. It is simply to note that the designers have made wise decisions not to freight these productions with unnecessary or distracting elements. Instead, we get to focus on the performers who are, blessedly, at the height of their craft.

Cage (lit by Mike Kittel and aided by Michael ­Croswell's sound design) personalizes the moral morass that is drone warfare.

Her pilot is a good soldier who's gung-ho for any mission. But as she watches the screen from her chair, what was supposed to be remote starts to look more and more like home.

While she's OK with killing military-aged males, she sees something in the target area that makes her less certain of her actions.

In the end, Cage's pilot becomes a figure whose face, wet with perspiration and twisted with worry, embodies some of the costs of our high-tech ways of killing.

She became a fighter pilot for a noble purpose, and for the freedom that it represents. But her flight suit becomes something that houses a lot more than a person with blue-sky dreams.

Rohan Preston • 612-673-4390