September 30
14:45 Hours
Petrichor Air Force Base – Crew Lounge
The atmosphere in the crew lounge was mellow—calm before the storm.
Emilie and Mona sat side by side on the couch, helmets resting on the table nearby. Teppei leaned against the wall beside the window, arms crossed, while Ayaka stood just beside him, quietly observing the movement of clouds outside.
Teppei glanced over his shoulder. "Hey Emilie, what do you think of the Tomcats so far?"
Emilie gave a short nod. "They're beasts. Lotta power, solid at low speeds, variable-geometry wings give you flexibility mid-flight. Good for air superiority, and they can handle strike roles too—air-to-ground and air-to-air. Can handle both if you're confident."
Mona chimed in. "You mentioned something earlier about the TF30 engines?"
Emilie nodded again, this time with a bit of a grimace. "Yeah. The TF30s are the weak point. That's why so many F-14As were later upgraded to F-14Bs—they swapped out the engines. TF30s are notorious for compressor stalls, especially during high angle-of-attack maneuvers."
Teppei raised a brow. "You mean like what happened to Leah, right? The first Tomcat pilot in Teyvat?"
Emilie's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yeah. Leah. First female naval aviator from Mondstadt. She flew with the MDC Vanessa, back when it was still flying the A-models exclusively. Her bird had a left engine compressor stall on approach. She tried to recover—throttled up the good engine. The plane rolled violently to the left. She didn't make it. Crashed short of the deck. Her RIO survived."
Ayaka raised a finger gently. "They talked about that in flight school. Some reports mentioned she applied full throttle after the stall. That unbalanced thrust caused the uncontrollable roll."
She sighed. "And of course, the press backlash was brutal. 'Women shouldn't be in combat aircraft…'—that kind of crap."
Emilie gave a small nod. "Yeah. But the official board of inquiry cleared her. Put the fault on the engine. Didn't matter who was in the cockpit—it was the TF30s that sealed it. The moment one stalls and you don't catch it quick enough, the aircraft fights you the whole way down."
Teppei raised an eyebrow. "Wait, we're flying F-14As though, right?"
"Yeah," Emilie confirmed. "But as long as we don't go crazy with the angle-of-attack, we'll be fine. Stay smooth, no sudden high-alpha inputs unless absolutely necessary. Not easy, but doable."
Before the conversation could continue, a sharp knock came from the lounge door. A crew chief leaned in.
"Wolfsbane, briefing. You've got a new mission."
Emilie stood up immediately. "Wilco. Let's go."
Mona rose beside her, while Teppei and Ayaka moved away from the window and followed. The atmosphere shifted. Downtime was over.
Briefing Room – Petrichor AFB
As they entered, the base commander stood at the front, arms crossed and tapping a finger against his upper arm in impatience.
"'Bout damn time you four showed up…"
The four pilots took their seats. The large display behind him flickered to life, and Captain Maksim began the briefing.
"You're going to want to listen to this one carefully."
He paused, then continued.
"One of Natlan's biggest screw-ups so far? Not sinking a single one of our carriers."
He cleared his throat and gestured to a tactical map of the Bishui Straits and surrounding regions.
"Today, your mission is a straight escort op. You're providing top cover for a task force consisting of three capital carriers—Remus, Egeria, and the Arkhe. Yeah, the same Arkhe you helped extract from Lumidouce Port three days ago."
He pointed to the flashing icons moving along the border of Mondstadt and Liyue.
"They're heading toward the Dornman Straits—critical position. That'll be the staging point to rebuild our counterstrike force and rendezvous with joint Mondstadt and Liyue fleets."
"The fleet is currently navigating through the Bishui Straits, near the border zone. They're vulnerable. Natlan knows this, so expect a strike attempt. Your job? Keep those carriers afloat. I don't care what it takes. No one gets through you."
He gave a firm nod.
"You're dismissed. Sortie ASAP. Godspeed."
Flightline – Petrichor AFB
As they walked toward their aircraft, Teppei looked energized, practically bouncing.
"Finally! A proper mission. Straightforward too!" he declared.
Emilie gave a half-laugh, half-sigh. "Don't jinx it. Simple escort missions go south all the time."
Teppei waved a hand. "Come on! All we gotta do is fly cover until the carriers hit the Dornman Straits, then it's mission complete. Easy money!"
Mona scoffed. "You say that now. You ever heard of a mission staying simple?"
Emilie shook her head. "Focus. Orders first, mission second, then we go home."
Ayaka nodded. "And now we have better aircraft. We're more prepared than ever."
Emilie smirked. "You got that right."
The four pilots reached their aircraft. Emilie approached her assigned F-14A Tomcat, sitting at the front of the formation. The cat was fueled, loaded, and ready for war.
She climbed the ladder and dropped into the pilot's seat, helmet tucked under her arm. She glanced around the cockpit—switches, dials, gauges—everything in its place. She pulled her harness over her shoulders, latched the buckle, and cinched it tight.
Helmet on.
Heads-up display came alive.
She glanced at the hydraulic pressure gauge. The needle was low.
"Manual pump it is…"
Emilie reached down to the hand pump beside her left leg. She began working it rhythmically—pull, push, pull, push—watching the needle steadily rise until it hit the green zone.
Once stable, she reached for the canopy control. With a hydraulic hiss, the canopy lowered and locked with a firm clunk. She glanced to the left and gave the ground crew chief a thumbs up.
The crew returned the signal—clear to start engines.
She flipped the engine start switch to the right. The right TF30 began spooling.
At 20% RPM, she fed in idle throttle. The turbine whined, then thundered to life as it stabilized.
She repeated the sequence for the left engine.
Switch left. RPM climbs. Idle throttle.
Twin engines stabilized.
She looked outside, signaled to remove ground power and air.
Crews scrambled under the fuselage, disconnecting hoses and cables. Once clear, a final thumbs-up.
She returned it with a crisp salute, disengaged parking brakes, and began taxiing. One by one, Mona, Teppei, and Ayaka fell in line behind her.
Runway 27 – Petrichor AFB
The Tomcats rolled in formation.
Emilie led the pack, turning onto the runway and aligning with the centerline. She held the brakes.
Tower came through her headset.
"Raven, you are cleared for takeoff. Altitude restriction canceled. Good hunting."
Emilie keyed the mic. "Wilco Tower. Raven rolling."
She released the brakes and slammed the throttles forward into afterburner.
The twin TF30s bellowed with fury as flames poured from the exhaust nozzles.
The airspeed climbed rapidly:
120… 130… 140… 150… 160…
At 167 knots, Emilie pulled back gently on the stick.
The nose lifted, and the F-14 roared off the deck, wheels tucking up moments later. She banked right, following the waypoint marker toward the Bishui TACAN.
One by one, her squadmates joined her in the air.
Four F-14As flying east.
Their escort mission had begun.
The sky ahead was quiet.
Too quiet.
Hours later…
The four F-14A Tomcats cruised at 1,000 feet, maintaining formation in combat spread.
Below them stretched the might of the Teyvat Navy: sixteen destroyers cutting through the Dornman Strait in precise formation, flanked by three carriers—the Remus, the Egeria, and the pride of the fleet, the Arkhe, a state-of-the-art Ousia-class supercarrier.
Conditions were marginal. The visibility was low, with a dense marine haze hanging in the air, and the sun had begun to dip beneath the horizon, painting the overcast sky in hues of crimson and gold.
"Hey, how's everyone doing with fuel?" Mona asked over the squadron channel, her voice calm, but watchful.
Emilie glanced down at her fuel readouts on the left console. "Fuel state's green. Still plenty in the tanks—nowhere near bingo yet."
"Same here," Ayaka chimed in. "Still got both external drop tanks hooked and half full."
"And what did I tell you?" Teppei said, voice laid-back. "Nice and simple mission. No drama. And hey—we're already at the Dornman Strait!"
Right on cue, a crisp voice cut through the comms:
AWACS Thunderspike
"All aircraft, be advised—we have reached the outer perimeter of potential enemy strike range. You are cleared to RTB."
A short pause.
"Wolfsbane Squadron, remain on station and hold above the carrier until the refueling tanker arrives."
Teppei spotted a Liyue-based squadron peeling off in the distance, banking northwest toward home base.
"Hey! They're heading back already! Can we go too?!"
Thunderspike, with a sigh in his voice:
"Wolfsbane, I repeat—maintain position. Tanker will be on station shortly."
Teppei groaned. "Ugh… I swear, man…"
But Emilie's attention sharpened. Her radar scope blinked—unknown contacts had just appeared.
"Got something on radar. Multiple unknowns, bearing 015, low altitude, fast movers."
"Same here," Mona said, tension creeping in.
"Wait—are our radars getting spoofed?" Teppei complained, tapping his display.
Ayaka's voice cut in. "No… same contacts here. This is real."
Teppei slumped slightly in his seat. "Seriously, why the hell didn't command warn us that enemy aircraft could hit us outside the projected range?"
"Hey! Emilie—" he started.
Ayaka interjected, "You mean Captain, Teppei."
Emilie sighed. "No need for that, not now. Eyes sharp."
Then came the urgent call:
AWACS Thunderspike
"ALL PLANES—ALERT! INCOMING ENEMY AIRCRAFT. ALL FIGHTERS SCRAMBLE AND RETURN TO CAP POSITIONS. PROTECT THE FLEET AT ALL COSTS!"
Emilie's expression hardened. Her hand shoved the throttles forward to full military power. The F-14's TF30 engines roared to life.
"Wilco. Raven—engaging!"
"Starseer—engaging!" Mona followed.
"Herring, engaging!" said Teppei, enthusiastic as ever.
"Soumetsu, engaging!" Ayaka confirmed, voice slightly shaky.
The four F-14s broke formation in a coordinated split, diving toward their respective intercept vectors.
Emilie locked onto a high-flying AV-8B Harrier II. She yanked the stick back hard, sending the Tomcat into a steep climb. Her thumb rolled the weapon selector to SP/PH—long-range semi-active radar missiles.
Lock.
Tone.
"Fox Two! Fox Two!" Emilie shouted.
Two long-range Sparrow missiles surged from her belly mounts, trailing thick contrails through the haze.
Two direct hits. The Harriers were shredded mid-air, disintegrating into fireballs that rained debris over the ocean.
"Raven's got a splash!" Emilie barked.
She leveled off and snapped her nose down, eyes hunting the next target. Her IFF pinged another flight—three low-flying Harriers, vectoring straight for the carrier group.
"Shit—three inbound on the carriers!" she called.
From the Arkhe, an urgent voice crackled over the fleetwide comm:
"We're unable to launch aircraft at this time! Repeat—scramble unavailable! Intercept those inbound attackers!"
"I got this!" Teppei called. "I'm on my wa—"
But Emilie was already diving like a missile.
Lock.
"Fox Three! Fox Three!"
Three LRAAMs screamed free in quick succession, each one trailing blue fire as Emilie climbed slightly to avoid overspeed and potential mast collisions.
Three boom-boom-booms—each impact lit the dusk sky. The Harriers were obliterated.
"Direct hits," confirmed the Arkhe's tower. "Thanks for the save!"
Teppei groaned. "Damn… never mind. Looks like Emilie's got it covered!"
The enemy's encrypted frequency bled into their own:
"Make one pass at a time. Fly hard, fast, and shoot straight. Fly it like you stole it."
Mona was in hot pursuit of another Harrier weaving erratically. The bandit jinked left then right, dodging lock-on attempts.
"Quit dancing around and fly straight, you bastard!" she hissed.
The Harrier made a sharp right climbing turn.
Mona anticipated it and cut inside. Her radar chirped.
Lock.
Tone.
"Fox Two! Fox Two!"
Two Sidewinders peeled off her rails, hissing through the sky—impacting just behind the Harrier's cockpit. The aircraft broke apart violently, plunging into the sea.
"Target down," she confirmed, rolling away with a sharp break turn.
"These conditions are terrible," Mona muttered, scanning the foggy horizon. "Perfect setup for an ambush."
"Yeah…" Emilie responded grimly. "They planned this perfectly. Low sun, low vis—"
"Right," Mona added. "And the fog works against us."
Teppei keyed in. "Don't let it get to you guys! We've got this! Let's take 'em out and get home!"
Ayaka, flying tighter than before, was trembling slightly. Her voice was a whisper.
"Come on… you've flown before… you can do this…"
Emilie's voice came over the channel, firm. "Ayaka. You've got this. Don't think—just fly. Trust your instincts."
"R-Right!" Ayaka responded, steadier now.
Emilie's radar painted another trio of Harriers headed straight for the carriers.
She banked hard left, pulling into a 90-degree turn that nearly made her ribs compress.
Two of the bandits broke off. One stayed on course.
Lock.
"Fox Two!"
A Sidewinder launched and found its target within seconds. The Harrier's empennage blew clean off and the rest spiraled into the ocean.
But something was gnawing at her gut.
"…Hey," Emilie radioed, "is it just me, or did they know when to hit us?"
"You're right," Mona answered immediately. "This timing—it's too perfect."
Ayaka joined in. "Something's not adding up… but I'm not sure what."
"Herring's got a Harrier!" Teppei called, blasting another out of the sky.
Emilie rolled level—and found herself staring down a head-on merge with another Harrier.
She didn't hesitate.
Lock.
Tone.
"Fox Two, Fox Two!"
Two Sidewinders fired in sequence.
She snapped right into a break turn just as the bandit vaporized mid-air—engulfed in flames and flying shrapnel.
The enemy channel crackled again:
"We're losing aircraft fast—these bastards know how to fight!"
Emilie's radio lit up with confirmations:
"Soumetsu's got three targets!"
"Starseer just downed two more Harriers!"
"Herring's sitting at three confirmed!"
Across the sky, Ayaka had her eyes locked on a new target: an F-35C Lightning II.
The fifth-generation jet was agile—snapping into violent rolls and dragging jinks.
But Ayaka stayed glued to its tail. Despite flying an older fourth-gen jet, her Tomcat was still holding position.
"I-I'm getting a little dizzy!" she gasped.
"Hold it together, Ayaka!" Emilie barked. "Fly the jet!"
Ayaka snapped into a tightening turn.
Lock.
"Fox Three, Fox Three!"
Her SAAMs blasted away.
She held the reticle steady on the HUD's center dot. The missiles tracked true—impacting the F-35's tail section.
The stealth fighter coughed flame and fell into a spiral, disappearing into the cloud bank below.
Ayaka pushed forward in her seat, eyes wide.
"YES! Let's go!"
Teppei glanced down toward the Arkhe, eyes narrowing.
"—H-Hey! One of the Tomcats from the deck's taking off!"
Emilie caught it immediately.
"Perfect! The more teeth in the fight, the better."
Right on cue, the familiar voice of Mualani cracked over comms, cocky and clear.
"YAHOO! I'm here! Come at me, bastards! I'm right here!"
Teppei let out a breath, exasperated.
"Finally! What the hell took you so long!?"
But the celebration ended abruptly.
AWACS Thunderspike came on, voice sharp, urgent.
"—Alert! Multiple bogeys inbound! All are carrying long-range anti-ship missiles! Defend the fleet at all costs!"
Emilie's eyes flicked to her radar. Two fresh blips—closing fast from the south.
"Got 'em on scope. I'm going head-on!"
She yanked her throttles to idle, snapped into a hard 180, nose slicing through the air. Her Tomcat groaned under the strain, but held true. Once she leveled out facing the southern threat, she slammed the throttles to full military power—afterburners screaming—charging toward the group of approaching F-35C Lightning IIs.
"Hey Emilie! We just finished cleaning up the last pack of Harriers. We're coming in from the west!" Mona called in.
Emilie glanced at her radar. Friendly blips were vectoring in behind her.
She grinned beneath the mask.
"Perfect timing."
"All units, form up! We'll hit them in a synchronized strike!"
She eased back on the throttles, popped the spoilers—letting the others catch up.
One by one, wings took shape beside her.
To her left—Mona and Mualani.
To her right—Ayaka and Teppei.
All in F-14A Tomcats, engines growling with anticipation.
Emilie scanned her formation, nodding once.
"Everyone—switch to special weapons. XMAAs. We're going to volley fire these bastards."
Clicks and confirmations followed as all jets toggled to their special long-range air-to-air loadouts.
Then—an IFF refresh.
Ten hostile signatures. Ten F-35Cs. Twelve o'clock high.
"I got visual on my IFF," Emilie said.
"Same here," Mona responded.
"Visual confirmed," Ayaka added.
"Bogeys dead ahead!" Mualani confirmed.
Emilie narrowed her gaze. Focused.
"Hold your fire... Wait for radar tone..."
Her display began to pulse.
Beep—beep—beep—
Steady tone.
"Fox Three!" Emilie shouted.
Two XMAA missiles screamed from her Tomcat's ventral pylons, streaking toward the incoming wave.
"Fox Three!"
"Fox Three!"
"Fox Three!"
"Fox Three!"
Eight more missiles followed, fanning out in controlled arcs like a curtain of death.
Ten missiles—silent predators cutting across the sky.
Then...
A flash.
One kill.
Another.
Then another.
Explosions lit the sky in quick succession.
"AWACS, confirm!" Emilie barked.
Silence.
Then Thunderspike's voice returned—relieved.
"All bandits down. Outstanding work, strike group!"
Emilie pumped a fist.
"Hell yeah!"
Cheers broke across the radio.
"That's what I call coordination!"
"Great work, team!"
"Goddamn awesome!"
"Fantastic fucking work, everyone!"
"We're clear!"
AWACS Thunderspike exhaled into the mic.
"All planes—RTB to carrier formation and await tanker support."
Emilie nodded.
"Wilco, Thunderspike."
The five aircraft banked northward. But as they rolled back onto course—
WAILING TONES.
Missile alerts.
"H-Hey! What's happening!?"
"We're getting lock warnings!"
"Thunderspike, say again—what the hell's going on!?"
Thunderspike's voice cut through the static—urgent, louder than ever.
"ALERT! BALLISTIC MISSILE INBOUND!"
Ayaka's voice cracked.
"A—A ballistic missile!? From where!?"
From the eastern horizon—a high-altitude contrail.
Then—a flash. Bright. Blinding.
Then several.
Emilie snapped on comms.
"EVERYONE! CLIMB! CLIMB HIGH—FULL BURN!"
She firewalled her throttles, kicked in the afterburners, and pulled back hard. The Tomcat's twin GE engines screamed as the nose climbed steeply skyward.
The others followed, wings retracting automatically as they raced higher.
As the light faded, the chaos unfolded across the net.
"Allied squadron down! What the hell just hit them?!"
"One of the carriers is listing! She's been struck!"
Mona's voice was panicked.
"Someone—anyone—what the hell is going on?!"
Mualani responded, grim.
"I—I don't know! Anything below five-thousand just got vaporized!"
"New missile detected!" Thunderspike called again.
"Shit! Another one!?"
Emilie shouted back:
"ALL PLANES! CLIMB ABOVE FIVE-THOUSAND! GET HIGH! NOW!"
"ALL CARRIERS! EMERGENCY MANEUVERS!"
Emilie glanced at her altimeter.
3,500 feet.
"Climb, climb, climb—!"
Ayaka yelled:
"Mualani, are you sure about that altitude?!"
Mualani shot back:
"YES! 5,000 feet minimum! That's where the burn stopped!"
Mona looked down. Her heart dropped.
"The decks... they're burning. People are falling overboard..."
Teppei's voice cracked.
"Another ship's hit—shit, it's a destroyer!"
"Keep climbing! Higher's better!" Emilie snapped.
They passed 5,000—climbing to 6,000 feet just to be sure.
Thunderspike began counting down.
"Ten seconds to impact."
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Emilie gritted her teeth, body pinned by G-forces as she held her climb. She closed her eyes.
Two.
One.
Impact.
A white blast bloomed over the ocean like a god's wrath. Ships vanished in the light.
"—The Remus! She's hit! She's sinking!"
Mualani's voice trembled.
"H—How... How could this happen to our fleet..."
The net crackled.
"The Remus is going under! Abandon ship! ABANDON SHIP!"
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!? IT'S LIKE MAGMA RAINING FROM THE SKY!"
"This is the Arkhe—all surviving planes, report in!"
"Wolfsbane One, copy! Whole squadron survived!"
Mualani keyed in next.
"This is Tempest. I'm okay. Broke off with Wolfsbane..."
Emilie looked down from her canopy.
Smoke.
Flames.
Floating wreckage.
Of the three carriers, only two remained.
Of sixteen destroyers, just four still afloat.
She checked her fuel.
"Shit. I'm dry. No way we're making it back to base."
Mona chimed in.
"Same here. I'm on fumes."
Ayaka spoke next.
"I'm bingo right now."
Teppei exhaled sharply.
"Me too..."
Thunderspike answered somberly.
"Wolfsbane, we can't get a tanker to you. Your only option is North Dornman Air Force Base. Proceed northeast."
Teppei snapped, frustrated.
"HEY! Are you even listening!?"
Ayaka sighed.
"Teppei... you ought to start calling Emilie 'Captain' now."
Teppei muttered.
"Forget it..."
He hesitated. Then sighed again.
"If she's captain, I wanna hear her start talking like one. I mean, damn... I miss hearing that voi—"
Emilie snapped.
"You ungrateful little shit, Teppei. This is the second goddamn time I've pulled your sorry ass out of a flaming tailspin—and this is how you talk to me?"
"You oughta be thanking me, not flapping your jaw like we're still in high school. You keep screwing up, I'll be the one zipping your body bag shut."
Teppei froze.
"I... Uh..."
"...Right. Sorry, Captain..."
Mona just shook her head.
"She's the captain now, Teppei. And I'll be damned if she doesn't deserve it."
Emilie didn't say a word after that.
She just kept flying.
Steady. Focused.
A silent oath burning in her chest.
"I will never lose a lead flight again."
Mualani quietly peeled off—heading back to the fleet.
The remaining four pressed on, climbing into the smoke-stained sky as they headed northeast—toward North Dornman.
Toward survival.
Twenty minutes later...
Fuel levels were scraping the bottom of the barrel.
Emilie glanced down at the fuel flow meter—every digit felt like a countdown. The Tomcat's tanks were dry as a bone, and judging by the clipped, terse silence on comms, the others weren't faring any better.
But below them, scattered across the ashen earth, were the scars of a long-dead war.
Mona broke the silence first, her voice distant and thoughtful.
"Those craters are still there..."
A beat.
"Can't believe it's been fifteen years…"
Emilie let out a long, controlled sigh, her eyes drifting to the ghostly black rings scorched into the land far below.
"Yeah… I remember it like it was yesterday."
She paused for a moment, as if reliving it.
"The Khaenri'ahns launched seven goddamn nukes… on their own territory. Just to keep our ground forces from breaking through."
Her tone grew heavier, grittier.
"They buried themselves up north after that. Entombed their own cities under radioactive hell."
"Six of those bombs," she continued, "hit major Khaenri'ahn cities—gone in seconds. Vaporized. Nothing left but glass and ash."
"And the seventh?" Mona asked, even though she knew the answer.
Emilie nodded grimly.
"Landed right here… in what's now North Dornman."
There was a heavy silence on the radio.
Mona whispered. "The Khaenri'ahn War… was a nightmare."
Emilie looked up ahead.
"The airfield's in sight. Get ready for approach."
She throttled back into landing configuration, dropping her flaps to full. The drag kicked in hard as the big bird bled off speed. She reached down, toggled the landing gear handle—clunk, clunk, clunk. Three greens. Gear down and locked.
Mona's voice came through with a soft chuckle.
"Would you look at that… We're coming back to the place we first trained together."
Teppei's voice followed, this time less cocky, more reflective.
"Yeah… It's been one hell of a ride, huh?"
Emilie gave a small smile behind her O₂ mask.
"Damn right."
Ayaka added, "Feels like a lifetime ago…"
The four F-14A Tomcats touched down almost simultaneously, spreading across the full width of the long, snow-dusted runway at North Dornman Air Force Base. Their wheels screamed as they kissed the concrete, drag chutes deployed from their tails to aid the deceleration. One by one, they slowed, turned, and taxied off the active runway.
The airfield was quiet. Snow drifted down under the dull red-orange floodlights. A wall of F-5 Tiger IIs sat parked like museum relics in the soft white dusting. The same jets they trained in only days before they were given their Tomcats.
They taxied to the apron near the hangars. Engines spooled down.
Emilie climbed out of the cockpit, snowflakes sticking to her helmet before she pulled it off. Cold bit into her exposed skin as she stepped onto the ladder and dropped to the ground. Her boots crunched into the snow-dusted tarmac.
The others joined her without a word. Just standing there, breathing the frozen air.
"What do you know…" Mona murmured. "It really has been forever since we were last here."
"Yeah," Teppei said, eyes sweeping the field. "Back when we were just air force nuggets."
Emilie's voice was a low, tired hum. "Captain Candace was the one who molded us."
Teppei gave a half-laugh, half-sigh. "And now… You're the one wearing the captain's crown, Emilie."
She glanced sideways at him, expression unreadable.
"Right…"
She tugged her flight suit up a bit higher, then turned to the group.
"Come on. Let's head inside before we all freeze our asses off."
They started walking down the apron together, boots thudding softly in the quiet snowfall. Around them, the base was still, eerily quiet. Not a soul moved among the dormant training aircraft. North Dornman was a ghost of the past.
Inside the base, warmth hit them like a wave. They were immediately greeted by the base commander—a middle-aged man with sharp eyes and a faint scar running down his cheek. He stood tall, uniform immaculate.
The four of them gave a crisp salute.
The commander returned it.
"At ease. You'll stay here for the night. Tomorrow, you'll depart."
Emilie nodded. "Yes sir. Thank you… We appreciate the help."
As they turned to head toward the spare quarters, the commander spoke again.
"Oh—Captain Emilie?"
She turned back. "Yes, Commander?"
"Tomorrow afternoon, you're bringing the nuggets back here to Petrichor Air Force Base. Understood?"
"Yes sir."
He nodded with a grunt, and they continued down the hall.
Eventually, Emilie made it to her quarters. The room was small, spartan. She set her helmet and flight gloves down on the battered desk, then unzipped the top half of her flight suit and let her arms slip free. Her undershirt was damp with sweat, despite the cold.
She dropped onto the narrow bed and let out a groan, rubbing her face with one hand.
"Goddammit…"
"What was supposed to be a simple escort op turned into a full-scale fucking naval ambush… capped off with a goddamned ballistic missile strike out of nowhere."
She stared up at the ceiling.
"…But how the hell did they know?"
The mission had been top-secret. Only the Teyvat Nation's Air Force had knowledge of the rendezvous. Natlan wasn't even supposed to be there.
And yet… they were.
They knew.
Her eyes narrowed.
"…But how?"
Snow continued to fall outside, blanketing the airbase once more in silence.