Acceptance

Kaihi

“How long will it take to fly?”

It took me a day and a half to reach this place. But something about their tone makes me suspect that won’t be the case this time.

The commander’s partner pulls a large map from the stack of documents and unfurls it across the table. He points to the southern edge of Karikoga, then drags his finger in a long, arcing line toward Aymar.

“We’re here. You need to get here. It’ll take four days minimum. Maybe more, depending on weather, power, and… other factors.”

“Four days?” I frown. “I thought you said the aircraft would be fast?”

He nods, unfazed.

“It will be. The fastest we’ve got in the vicinity that can still maneuver well. But it won’t outrun missiles. You’ll be flying low for hours on end. You’ll get exhausted, and fast.”

He taps several marked points on the map.

“We’ve got friendly carriers stationed at these points. They're inside enemy territory, yes, but they're there under agreement, so we have no fear. That’s where you’ll rest. You’ll have food, a bed, power, repairs - everything you need. Each one will be alerted once you take off.”

It’s reassuring. Logically. But something’s still gnawing at me. Something I can’t name.

“Is there any catch?”

They both shake their heads quickly - too quickly. The commander’s partner hastily replies.

“No! No catch. In fact, we’ll sweeten the deal. Complete the mission, and you’ll be granted ace status automatically. And a reward of two hundred million.”

I blink.

Two hundred?

Two hundred million.

That’s more than just a retirement fund. That’s a new life. I’d never have to kill again. I could vanish. Build a home somewhere quiet and isolated, with a private airstrip and a warm little house. Maybe even… raise a family.

Freedom. Real freedom.

But still, something nags. Misgivings I can’t silence.

Then - softly - Fiya speaks in my ear.

“What do you think, Arkar? I think we can do it.”

I close my eyes.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I nod.

“I’ll do it.”

The tension breaks like glass. Grins spread instantly across their faces. The guard behind visibly relaxes. Even the air feels lighter.

The commander rises to his feet and thrusts out his hand, eyes bright.

“Thank you, young man! Our country will honor you for generations.”

I stand and take his hand. His grip is firm, warm.

Honored for generations… I’m not sure I want that.

But he’s already walking toward the door, waving for me to follow.

“Come on. Let’s get you ready..”

We walk through the halls together. The commander’s partner peels off with one of the guards, leaving just the commander and me, with a second guard trailing a few paces behind.

The commander claps a firm hand on my shoulder.

“You should be honored,” he says with a proud grin. “We’re giving you one of the most advanced aircraft in our fleet.”

That’s a bold claim.

“Really?”

He chuckles.

“Well - not just yet. You’ll get it on the first carrier. You’ll be flown there by transport and spend the night onboard. The next morning, you’ll meet your passenger, and the mission begins.”

No time wasted.

He slaps my back again, steady and confident.

“Don’t worry - we’ve been planning this for months. You’re in good hands.”

I find myself… liking him. He’s not the brutal, bark-and-spit drill sergeant I expected. There’s something fatherly about him. Friendly. Grounded.

“Okay,” I say. “When does the transport leave?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he pushes open a pair of heavy, reinforced doors at the end of the hallway. Sunlight slams into my eyes. I squint, wincing. The familiar wail of pressure engines echoes outside.

He glances back at me, half smiling.

“Now. You leave now.”

As my vision adjusts, I see it: a large, matte-gray transport waiting just beyond the door. High wings. Two massive pressure engines slung underneath. Cylindrical body, stubby tail. It’s not pretty - but it looks strong, functional. The kind of aircraft that always gets the job done.

Soldiers jog over, shouting above the engine noise.

“Hey! We need to go, now!”

Before I can process it, they’re already pulling me toward the aircraft. I glance back at the commander - helpless, half in shock.

He just grins and gives me a short wave.

“Good luck! We’ll meet again!”

And then he’s gone.

I’m shoved up into the transport’s side hatch. A soldier points to a seat without looking at me.

“Sit down. We’re taking off immediately.”

I do as I’m told. No time for questions now.

There’s so much I still don’t know. But I won’t get answers here. The engines ramp up - louder, sharper - and the aircraft lurches into motion.

Out the nearby window, I watch the taxiway blur past. The nose turns, aligning with the runway. Flaps extend. Engine pitch climbs. With a rumble, we charge down the tarmac, gathering speed.

Then, with a shudder and a soft lift of the nose, we rise.

The world falls away beneath us.

The landing gear folds up into the engine pods like a cat drawing in its claws.

And just like that - we’re gone.

The sun is low by the time we reach our destination.

My eyes snap open as the transport banks sharply, the pressure tugging me against my restraints. Outside the window, framed in fading gold light, floats something colossal - something ancient and impossible.

An aircraft carrier.

Like a ginormous whale drifting through the sky.

It’s bigger than I imagined. A massive airship, its belly full of gas, with an entire runway and superstructure grafted to its top. These are the kings of the skies - symbols of might and intimidation. Just one of them in a region is enough to make an army think twice before invading without air superiority.

The transport begins a graceful arc, lining up for approach. My stomach knots.

I’ve never seen a carrier in person, let alone landed on one. One wrong move, and you don’t just crash - you tear straight through the balloon, igniting gas, rupturing structure. Thousands could die.

I hold my breath.

But there’s no crash.

With a heavy thud, the wheels slam onto the deck. The tail hook catches the wire across the flight deck with a bone-rattling jolt, and I’m thrown forward against the harness. Hard stop.

But we made it.

We’re alive.

The doors hiss open. Soldiers bark orders.

“Up. Out. Let’s go!”

I rise unsteadily, still getting my bearings, and hop down onto the deck. It’s firm under my boots, but the sight of clouds rushing past at eye level unsettles me. For a second, my brain forgets which way is up.

Then a voice calls out - warm, confident, and just a bit amused.

“Kaihi! Good to see you! I’ve heard a lot about you!”

I turn. A man in a dark-blue sailor’s uniform strides across the deck, grinning like an old friend. The way he carries himself, it’s clear: this is the captain.

He throws his arms out, gesturing to the vast structure around us.

“Welcome to the Avatak.”

He extends a hand. I take it.

His grin only grows.

“Come on. I’ll give you the tour. It’s almost time for dinner.”

I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling of an officer’s cabin.

It’s nicer than anything I’ve slept in before - clearly meant for someone far more important than me. I was told to expect this kind of treatment, but still... it unnerves me.

Just how important is this mission?

And how likely do they think I am to fail?

The questions won’t stop. They run loops in my mind, chasing each other like dogs.

Who is this politician’s child I’ll be escorting? What exactly is this sickness they keep mentioning? Will it affect how I fly - will it stop me from handling high-G manoeuvres?

I roll over, restless.

What aircraft will I be flying? Something “most advanced,” they said. But what does that mean?

And why was I always taught the Karikogans were the enemy?

I roll over again. The sheets are soft. The room is quiet. But my thoughts are loud.

Sleep won’t come easy tonight.