Lost

Kaihi

It’s a horrible feeling.

Everything was going so well.

It just goes to show - you should never let your guard down. I got too confident. Too cocky.

“Fiya,” I rasp, “where’d that missile come from? Are there any more?”

She responds quickly, calmly - trying to soothe me.

“It was ground-launched. No enemy fighters nearby, don’t worry. And since we lost so much altitude, we should be out of their range now. We’re okay… for now.”

I nod to myself. One problem down. Next issue.

“Do you have any idea which direction that country is in? Even a guess?”

She processes. Too long. My chest tightens, eyes flicking between the dials as I brace for bad news-

Then she answers.

“According to my data, before we were hit, Karikoga was at a heading of two-nine-three degrees. Try that - maybe we’ll get close enough to spot it visually.”

Karikoga.

Neutral, officially. Not allied with the Axis, but willing to do business with them.

By law, it should be safe to land there.

Should.

I don’t have a better option.

Bit by bit, I ease the nose around. My arms scream in protest, every movement a fight against the damaged controls and resisting airframe.

The rudder helps - but barely. It’s a slow, grinding maneuver. Sweat drips from my forehead, stinging my eyes.

The speed dial drops.

350 km/h.
340.
330.

Stall speed is 260, give or take - short wings means more speed is needed to stay airborne.

The needle creeps into the danger zone just as the compass inches toward the heading.

Come on. Easy… easy…

I release the rudder.

Aligned. Speed steady at 280 km/h.

Close. Too close.

Especially in this condition.

“How long to Karikoga?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

“About twenty minutes. If all goes well.”

Twenty minutes.

Can I even hold the stick that long?

My arms are trembling. It’s like lifting a suitcase over my head - while standing on one foot, on a moving train, during an earthquake.

“Fiya…” I mutter. “I’m not gonna lie - I don’t know if I can make it the whole way.”

Her reply comes back small. “I’m sure you can. Is there anything I can do?”

I shrug - not that she can see it.

“I don’t know. Can you adjust the trim tabs any further on your side?”

“Sorry. They’re already maxed out. I adjusted them right after the hit.”

Of course she did.

For the first time in my life, I actually regret not going to the gym with my squadmates.

“We’ve crossed the border!”

It’s been nearly twenty-five minutes.

Fiya - who’s been feeding me encouragement this whole time - apparently misjudged the mountain winds. I’ve lost all feeling in my legs, but still I grip the stick between my thighs and hands like it’s the only thing keeping me alive.

Because it is.

The aircraft shakes violently, rattling with every gust like she’s begging me to let go, to let her die in peace.

She’s served me well. But I never realized how much she doesn’t want to live.

Not a reliable machine.

Just one more thing ace status will change - choice of aircraft.

I stare ahead. Mountainous terrain stretches out like jagged teeth, tall rolling hills with nowhere flat to land. Not even a road.

I could eject.

I’ve never done it before. And I’d like to keep it that way.

As long as I’m in the air, still flying, even if barely - I can land this thing.

If I can find somewhere to do it.

“Fiya,” I mutter, “how do you know we’ve crossed the border?”

She answers cheerfully - almost proud.

“I spotted a checkpoint below.”

Hope flares in my chest. A checkpoint. A real sign of civilization.

A spark of life returns to my arms, to my spine.

“Can you use that to figure out where we are? Is there a runway nearby?”

“Already on it.”

I let her work. The engine behind me doesn’t sound like an engine anymore - it’s deteriorating from a mechanical howl to a strangled, wheezing whine.

The high-pressure system must be tearing itself apart from the inside.

Fiya’s voice returns.

“There’s something a little further ahead. An international airport. It’s no longer active commercially - I suspect it’s been converted into an airbase.”

My stomach sinks.

That could be a problem. Military bases don’t tend to welcome unannounced foreign aircraft - especially not lone fighters from a warzone.

But what choice do I have?

I grit my teeth and force the stick forward. The plane lurches, protesting with every bolt and seam.

Fiya whispers into my ear - sweet and soft like honey:

“We’re almost there.”

Karikogan Anti-Aircraft Gunner

A warbling wail cuts through the mountains.

We all glance up from our card game - for a second. I was down ten dollars. Probably would’ve lost more if that sound hadn’t stopped the world.

Something flickers between the peaks.

A shape, trailing thick grey smoke, wobbling like a drunk on stilts.

One of the boys gasps.

“It’s not one of ours!”

The tannoy sputters to life, half-choked in static, then clears:

“Action stations! Action stations! Prepare for enemy bombing!”

Cards hit the floor.

We bolt.

I dash to my gun post - scrambling up into the framework of the Elros Mark Four. Double-barrelled, twenty-five-millimetre autocannons. My girl. I’ve manned her for months now, and I trust her. Fast, accurate, reliable - especially against low flying aircraft.

I swing into the seat, hands already gripping the controls. Rotate the turret. Bring the lone incoming aircraft into my sights.

It's limping. Barely airborne.

Thick smoke coils out from the engine exhaust. The fuselage shudders, loose panels flapping.

It’s crawling. I hardly need to lead it.

I wait for the command to fire.

Nothing comes.

My loader, standing tense at my left, glances over.

“What’s this guy doing?”

I don’t take my eyes off the sights.

“Crash landing, by the looks of it. It’s from the Allied forces.”

“Allied? This far in?”

I shrug.

“Guess he got lost.”

The aircraft descends lower, wobbling like its wings are about to fall off.

Then the siren cuts out.

A beat of silence.

Then it starts again - same speaker, different pitch. Higher. More urgent.

Emergency tone. The tannoy barks.

“All personnel, prepare for emergency landing. Emergency services are cleared to respond.”

I lower my hand from the trigger though I keep my eyes on the plane.

It hovers just above the runway. Too low. Too slow.

Then - with a guttural whine - the engine gives out.

It drops.

Metal scrapes stone.

A howling shriek rips through the valley - sparks screaming from the belly as the aircraft skids down the tarmac. Fire bursts from the wing root.

The right wing tears off completely.

The plane flips - skipping once, hard, before crumpling down in a brutal, screeching stop.

A final crack echoes off the hills like a gunshot.

Silence.

Then all hell breaks loose.

Kaihi

Silence.

Lovely, empty, safe.

I’m alive. I’m on the ground.
I repeat it like a prayer.
I’m alive. I’m on the ground.
Somehow.

My arms hang limp at my sides. I can’t feel them. Can’t move.
My vision blurs, pulsing at the edges.

Sirens rise in the distance - wailing, distorted. Engines. Shouting.

Shapes swarm toward me. Big trucks roll to a stop beside the wreck.
Men jump down, fast and practiced. One raises a hose and sprays-
Water. Steam hisses across the shattered airframe.

Is it on fire?

The canopy rattles above me.
Hands. Tools. Someone’s yelling.
I try to move but my body refuses.

Then-
Crash!

The canopy bursts inward. Something heavy.

More shouting.

“He’s still alive!”
“Quick - get him out before the fire spreads!”
“Hey! I need some help over here!”

Hands grab at me - firm, urgent, real.
My shoulders, my arms.

I want to speak. Thank them. But my mouth won’t work.

Darkness wraps me gently.
And I let go.