Trpimir

Kaihi

As soon as I finish breakfast, the Captain himself finds me.

“Kaihi, we just got word from HQ. You’re leaving again tomorrow morning - for the Khadra.”

I try to hide my surprise.

“Tomorrow morning, sir? But I thought the Sanan was beyond repair.”

His eyes sparkle.

“It is, but luckily, we have our own experimental aircraft aboard.”

I raise my hands.

“No thanks. I don’t want another experimental plane. The Sanan was hard enough.”

The sparkle doesn’t fade.

“Trust me, you’re going to love this one. It’s a turnfighter, not an interceptor.”

That gets my attention.

“Where is it?”

He grins and motions me to follow.

“Come on, it’s in the hangar. I can’t wait to show you.”

We wind through the corridors of the Trpimir until we reach the hangar. But instead of walking all the way down, he leads me to a workshop separated from the main floor.

I peer inside - and freeze. This aircraft isn’t even finished. Its right wing lies on the ground; the rest of the fuselage is suspended by straps from a large crane arm overhead. The engine is nowhere to be seen.

I stop, mouth slightly open. This thing’s going to be ready to fly tomorrow??

The Captain catches my look and grins.

“Don’t underestimate my men, Kaihi. They can work wonders.”

He glares at the mechanics scurrying around, and they nervously give thumbs up. I’m not convinced.

The Captain turns back to me.

“Kaihi, meet the Feiwen Mark Seven. She’s a little unfinished, sure - but trust me, she’s a brilliant machine.”

I want to ask if she’s ever flown before, but all I can think is they must’ve taken her out of storage and thrown her together overnight.

“Does Feiwen make everything these days?”

He laughs.

“No! Only the experimental stuff. The mass production’s left to other firms. But Feiwen makes a lot of money off the blueprints.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“And they don’t like you very much.”

Figures. I just crashed one of their aircraft - it must’ve cost them millions.

The Captain laughs again.

“But no matter! They won’t find out about this one until after you’ve left!”

His laughter is starting to get on my nerves, but I let him enjoy his own joke.

Finally, he waves toward the aircraft.

“Go on. Take a look around. I’ll be off somewhere… important.”

He stumbles off laughing. I shake my head and turn back to the unfinished plane as a mechanic strolls over with a clipboard.

“Ace Pilot Kaihi? It’s an honour to meet you.”

The mechanic bows, but I quickly shake my head.

“No, no, please don’t be like that. It’s hard to talk formally.”

He raises his head and nods.

“OK. Then, shall I show you around your aircraft?”

I nod, and he walks toward it, me following close behind.

“This is the most advanced air superiority fighter we have.”

Is everything they have the most advanced? The word’s starting to lose its meaning.

He continues,

“Her top speed is around thirteen hundred kilometers per hour, and her VNE is estimated at two thousand four hundred.”

What? This turnfighter’s faster than a purpose-built interceptor? He sees my disbelief and grins.

“We’re using an experimental engine built for low altitude, but it should perform well at any height. That’s her, over there.”

He points to the back of the workshop, and my mind fuzzes up. I can’t tell exactly what I’m looking at. Definitely a pressure engine, but there’s a weird cylinder emerging from the front.

He continues,

“She was originally designed as an interceptor but was made with flexibility in mind. So whatever you put her up to, she can do it.”

The very definition of an air superiority fighter.

I look her over. She’s a tailwheeler - resting with her nose tilted up, or in this case, toward the hangar roof. She’s sleek, smooth. Her elliptical wings look a little off - probably because one lies on the ground. She looks like a bird from the last war, twenty-five years ago. By the looks of it, her engine is supposed to mount in the nose, but the intake sits underneath, between her wings on her belly.

“What’s up with the nose? Shouldn’t it be capped if the air intake is elsewhere?”

The mechanic grins widely.

“Actually, no. This is the experimental part. We’re going back to propellers.”

Propellers? What? But they were phased out decades ago when pressure engines with hundreds of small electric motors proved way more efficient than a few big motors turning a propeller.

I fear the mechanic’s smile might be permanent.

“We call it the pressure prop. You still have your classic pressure engine, but it’s also hooked up to a propeller on the nose. It’s even more efficient. And with the afterburner, you can reach incredibly high speeds.”

I’m confused.

“I thought propellers limited an aircraft’s top speed to below the sound barrier?”

He grins.

“It did. But these ones can retract when you approach that speed. Trust me, this is a marvel of engineering.”

I take his word for it. Fiya, speaking softly through my headset, is skeptical.

“What? This thing? It looks so old.”

I have to agree. I’ve always been drawn to older birds, but fighting in one against a superior enemy? That’s a recipe for death.

“Can I look at the cockpit?”

From the ground I can see the cockpit is longer than usual - probably to accommodate two people.

“No. It’s… not quite ready.”

Suddenly, I feel a presence behind me. I turn and find Zyla, standing in awe at the disassembled relic. A medic stands close behind her, carrying the humming box still attached to her arm.

I wave at the aircraft.

“Well, this is our mount for the rest of the journey, apparently. She’s a little unfinished, but I guess she’ll have to do.”

Zyla’s eyes scan over it, sparkling.

“She’s beautiful.”

I turn back to the aircraft. She’s not wrong - it is a nice-looking plane. Or, it will be, once its wing and engine are in place.

Suddenly she speaks again, quietly.

“Mazel.”

I turn back to her, not hearing properly.

“What was that?”

She repeats herself, louder and more confident.

“Mazel. That’s what I would name her.”

I turn back to the Feiwen Mark Seven as she walks up beside me, the medic following.

“Mazel?”

Zyla nods.

“Yeah. She looks lucky. Mazel.”

I look over the aircraft again. I wouldn’t exactly describe her as ‘lucky’ in this condition. But Zyla seems sure of herself, so I smile.

“You want me to name her that?”

Her eyes sparkle.

“Really? You would name her that? For me?”

I nod. I don’t have any better ideas.

“Thank you! Wow! I just named a plane! That’s one thing off the list!”

I smile. Mazel. Lucky. Maybe she will be.

And then it hits me - I just named my first ever aircraft.

I turn to the mechanic.

“You got all that?”

He nods.

“We’ll get right on it. On the nose?”

I nod. He gives me a thumbs up and walks off.

I look at Mazel again - and smile.

I sit near the edge of the flight deck, watching the sky turn a soft yellow as the sun slips below the mountains like a vein of gold. Zyla settles beside me, her machine humming steadily.

“What is that machine, anyway?” I ask.

She glances at it.

“Oh, apparently it’s removing infected cells from my blood, but I don’t know how well it works. I don’t like it much - it’s very restricting.”

I nod, imagining what it must be like to carry something like that everywhere, constantly poking into your skin, licking at your blood. The thought makes me shudder, and I push it away.

“Hey, you should tell me about yourself. I’ve told you heaps - I think it’s your turn now.”

She laughs.

“That’s fair. Alright. You’re gonna be treated to a lot of fun facts.”

I grin.

“Surprise me.”

She smiles back.

“Well, here’s the first one - I wasn’t born in Karikoga.”

That catches me off guard.

“What? You weren’t? What do you mean?”

She giggles, then lowers her voice.

“I was born in Birvydas.”

Birvydas. An Axis country. I stay quiet.

“My father’s job as a politician took him from country to country. It was in Birvydas where he met my mother. They married and had me, then moved back to Karikoga. That’s where we lived until my mother…”

Her voice breaks.

“…my mother passed away. We went back to Birvydas for a year to be with her family, then came back. I was… eleven, I think?”

She shakes her head.

“But after that, we didn’t go anywhere else. I got sick a few years later, so I couldn’t travel.”

She gives me a weak smile.

“That’s my history. Are you sufficiently surprised?”

I nod.

“Yes. I’m sorry about your mother. But I’m confused - don’t the Birvydens and Karikogans hate each other?”

She nods.

“Yeah, the racism can get pretty bad over there. Trust me - I’ve seen it firsthand. Luckily, my father had enough influence to change my birth records to say I’m a native Karikogan, or there’s no way I’d be here right now.”

She sighs.

“Sometimes I wonder where I’d be if he hadn’t. If I’d still be alive.”

She looks at me, eyes searching.

“Well, now you know the truth. Do you hate me now?”

I’m taken aback.

“Hate you? What? Why would I? How could I?”

“Oh, I thought everyone hated the Birvydens.”

I consider it for a moment.

“I suppose you’re right. They do. But that’s because they’ve killed so many people. To be fair, they probably feel the same about us. But I can’t hate you. You’re not involved.”

She smiles softly.

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

The sun vanishes behind the mountains like an extinguished candle, and the flight deck grows long shadows, the air cooling with the evening chill.

I heave myself to my feet and hold out a hand.

“Come on, let’s go. Tomorrow we’re off again, apparently.”