Allegiances

Kaihi

Sirens wail through the Khadra like banshees.

I jolt awake in the pitch black of my cabin, heart slamming into my ribs. My hands flail for the door - panicked, blind. I smack into it, hard, and fumble it open. Harsh white corridor light spills in. My eyes sting. I squint, reach back, and flick on the cabin light.

My headset. I jam the earpieces in.

“Fiya! Do you know what’s going on?”

Her voice shouts in my ear, panicked.

“No! But there was a loud explosion earlier!”

I’m already halfway into the corridor when the tannoy stutters to life.

“Code red. Code red. Enemy attack. Prepare for combat.”

I think fast. Visualise the layout. Plot a route.

Two steps to the next cabin. I slam my fist into the door.

“Zyla! We have to go! Are you up?”

The door swings open. Zyla stares at me, wide-eyed.

“Kaihi - what’s going on?”

I grab her hand.

“I don’t know. Something about an enemy attack. But it’s not safe here. We have to move - now.”

She follows without hesitation, her other arm wrapped tight around that precious box. I replay the route in my head as we run.

Left. Stairs. Left again. More stairs. Another left. Up. Then right.

We burst out onto the flight deck.

The world is on fire.

Floodlights pierce the night, flickering over smoke and wreckage. Orange flames lick at the dark sky. Sailors sprint across the deck, orders shouted over roaring engines. Fighters launch from the catapults in a blur, more lined up behind.

Suddenly-

The stuttering rip of a chainsaw tears through the chaos. A flak cannon lights up, spewing green tracer into the night at an invisible target. My skin prickles.

“Duck!”

Zyla drops beside me an instant before an aircraft howls overhead.

An explosion - deafening.

A bomb punches through the deck and detonates below. The floor heaves.

I stagger upright, scanning frantically.

Then I see her.

Mazel - sitting ready for our morning leg, somehow untouched.

“Come on!” I yell, dragging Zyla toward her. “We need to get off the Khadra!”

Another scream overhead. A shockwave slams into us, and we hit the deck hard.

I groan, force myself upright, help Zyla to her feet-

-and freeze as I watch the superstructure, the place we were standing moments ago, collapse in flames.

A direct hit.

We run.

The world is a blur of fire and shrapnel, of flickering shadows and shattered steel. I reach Mazel’s wing and vault up, pulling Zyla behind me.

I flick the power switches and the dash lights up. Zyla scrambles into her seat, strapping in and checking the box. It’s intact. Thank God.

I slam the canopy shut and drop into my seat.

Prime the engine. Come on, come on.

The blades begin to spin.

Another bomb slams into the catapults - obliterating the waiting aircraft.

I stare at the ruined launch rails.

How the hell do we take off?

Then a terrible idea hits me.

I connect to the intercom.

“Hold on. I’m going to try something stupid.”

No time for answers.

I shove the throttle forward and hold the brakes. Mazel strains. The nose begins to tip. I release the brakes just as I hit the afterburner and slam the throttle to maximum.

Mazel screams forward.

The deck tilts beneath us. It’s angled just enough. Just enough to fly.

We surge up the incline, the speedometer climbing fast-

100km/h. 200. 300.

We launch into the air.

I dip the nose down, throttle still at full, praying we’re not noticed.

400km/h. 600.

We tear through the night, the Khadra shrinking behind us-

burning, broken, tilting as fire consumes her lifting balloon.

I glance up.

Above us, the sky is a warzone.

Red and green tracers streak through the darkness. Aircraft twist and vanish in flashes. It’s chaos.

But somehow-

somehow, we’re missed.

I don’t look back.

We disappear into the night.

I let Mazel accelerate until she reaches 1900 kilometers per hour, then ease back on the throttle. We’ve made good ground. My voice trembles as I speak.

“Fiya, what was that?”

She answers almost immediately.

“I’m not sure. Want me to scan the radio frequencies for intel?”

“Yes, please. That’d be great.”

She goes silent. A moment later, coughing echoes in my headset.

“Zyla? Are you okay?”

Her voice is faint.

“I think so. Probably shouldn’t do that again, though.”

“Sorry.”

She coughs again, lighter this time.

“No… if you hadn’t, we’d be dead. I’m quite happy being alive.”

I don’t answer. What could I say to that?

Fiya’s voice returns.

“Guys, listen to this. This is the Allied news broadcast.”

A patch of static gives way to the voice of the newsreader - calm, steady, and devastating.

“Two hours ago, Axis forces launched a large-scale invasion of the country of Karikoga. The attack coincided with coordinated strikes on key military installations, including foreign headquarters, power plants, and several aircraft carriers.”

My stomach drops.

So that’s who was attacking us. The Axis.

The report continues, clinical and brutal.

“We can now confirm that the Allied nations have agreed to accept Karikoga into the allegiance, and will assist in the liberation of the country alongside other affected regions. Our hearts go out to those who lost loved ones in tonight’s attacks. Among the confirmed casualties are the President of Karikoga, along with several key diplomats who were meeting with foreign representatives to discuss peace initiatives at the time of the strike-”

A muffled cry interrupts the broadcast - Zyla.

“Zyla?” I ask gently. “Are you alright?”

Her voice breaks as she responds.

“My… my father is the head of the peace movement. He’s the one who’s been pushing so hard for alliance with the Allies…”

The newsreader’s voice cuts back in, like a scalpel.

“…but by far the most disheartening loss was that of Sir Hodan Doman, the leading voice of the Allied peace movement-”

Zyla starts to sob, soft but wrenching. I want to comfort her - to hold her, to tell her everything will be okay - but I’m strapped in, facing forward. All I can do is listen. And so I do.

I listen to her mourning. I listen to the radio. And I fly.

Mazel races into the dark, the stars cold and silent above.

We fly for over an hour before my thoughts begin to settle. Zyla’s sobs have faded into quiet, hollow sniffs. I know how she feels. I know exactly how she feels. But right now, there are more pressing matters.

“Fiya… what do we do? I assume the Hiroto was hit too?”

She pauses.

“Well, we might as well check. There’s nowhere else to go.”

She’s right.

“Can you plot the route?”

“Already have.”

The nav rings flicker into view across the canopy. It’s too dark to see the ground, so I rely on the instruments alone. Flying low and fast in pitch black, guided only by glowing numbers and faint digital rings, is… a life-changing experience.

I hate it.

Some pilots love this - say it’s like flying blind through instinct, like touching the soul of the aircraft. But I don’t want to be felt by the speed. I want to feel it. And here, there’s nothing. No sky. No sense of motion. Just the occasional alert ping and the ghost of terrain flickering past on the radar.

Still, my thoughts churn.

Will we arrive to find the carrier intact? Or will it be scattered across a valley, still burning?

And if it’s gone… what then?

Where do we land?

Power won’t be an issue - Mazel’s reserves can easily bypass the Hiroto and make a straight run for the border - but I can’t fly in these conditions for that long. Not this low. Not this tense. The mental strain would shred me.

We’ll have to land before the next nightfall. I do the math. If the Hiroto is down, that gives us three hours after arrival to find somewhere safe to land before it gets dark again.

Three hours. And that’s assuming nothing else goes wrong.

My mind kicks into overdrive, spiraling through worst-case scenarios. I force myself to breathe. Deep, slow. In and out. I don’t need all the answers now.

Just one step at a time.