Hiroto

Kaihi

Hours pass.

My hands won’t stop trembling.
The tears won’t dry.

But I have no choice. I have to keep flying.

Zyla’s counting on me.

Below, the landscape shifts and morphs - forests into fields, rivers into roads - as we pass over it, steering wide of every hint of civilization. At one point we thunder between two major cities, skimming the air above a highway that connects them. The boom shatters the silence below.

But there’s nothing.
No enemy fighters.
No missiles.
Not even a flicker on the radar.

Just empty skies.

And still, the anxiety builds as we near the planned rendezvous with the Hiroto.

So for the first time since the radio broadcast - the one that shattered everything - I force myself to speak.

“Fiya... can you plot some potential landing sites? Just in case the Hiroto doesn’t show. Within a three-hour window. I don’t want to be caught off guard.”

Her voice comes quietly.

“I’m on it.”

Then she falls silent again.

The sun arcs overhead. The day drags forward. Still we fly.

Eventually, she comes back.

“Alternatives plotted. Want me to show them now?”

I shake my head.

“No. Not right now. I won’t be able to take them in.”

“Alright.”

Silence again.

I hope she doesn’t despise me.
Not after what happened.

Zyla hasn’t spoken either. Not since the radio announcement.

I wonder what she’s thinking.
What’s going on in her head.

I just hope it isn’t anything like the mess inside mine.

The nav rings begin their usual pre-landing climb. I follow nervously, my hand hovering over the afterburner toggle.

I’m not risking anything.

We rise over the hills - then the terrain drops away, revealing a vast stretch of open grassland.

Zyla gasps.

There - sprawled like a beached whale - lies the Hiroto.

Fire curls up from her ruined frame. Her balloon is shredded, collapsed. The burn marks are unmistakable. She’s been hit - hard. Destroyed.

Most likely with few survivors, judging by the scattered debris.

But that’s not what makes my blood run cold.

Clustered around the wreck are squadrons of tanks and military personnel. They’re still fighting - engaged in a gun battle with what few survivors remain.

And circling above-

A swarm of fighters.

Not Karikogan.

Birvyden.

They vector toward us instantly.

I don’t hesitate.

My finger slams down on the afterburner toggle. The engine screams as Mazel hurls forward, a jolt of acceleration pinning me to the seat. The speedometer climbs. We dive low - skimming just beneath the oncoming fighters.

They can’t catch us.

We tear past, whipping over the battlefield, startling the soldiers below. The Hiroto vanishes behind us in seconds. So do the fighters.

We’re gone.

The sun dips lower.
Three hours. That’s all we’ve got.

“Fiya,” I say, breath shallow, “what’s the best option we have?”

She answers immediately.

“A clearing in a forest. Bearing three-four-zero. Two hours out.”

The nav rings shimmer to life again. I bank toward them, settling in.

The afterburner’s still going - for now.

It’ll cut out soon.

But we’ve already gained ground the enemy won’t be able to reclaim.

Not before we disappear into the hills.

I spot the clearing.

It looks like an abandoned airfield - overgrown, rough. No buildings. Just a wide, grassy strip choked with weeds. The trees are uncomfortably close on either side. It’s going to be tight.

Fiya, bless her, talks me down.

“Take it very slow. No need to rush - we can always try again. Gear down. Flaps full. Scooch to the left. Bit more. Stop. Descend. Aaaaannnnd… flare now.”

We kiss the grass.

Fiya’s voice sharpens immediately.

“Don’t brake yet - the grass is too thick. We might flip. Get the tail down. Airbrakes full.”

I follow every word.

Mazel rolls forward - slower… slower - until she eases to a stop near the edge of the clearing.

I sag in the seat. Limp.

My breath comes slow and heavy as the engine spins down, whining into silence.

Safe.
For now.

The canopy hisses open, and I force myself to move.

There are three things I need to do.

First - get Mazel under cover so she can’t be seen from the air.

Second - food and sleep. Mazel has both onboard, but they’ll need setting up.

Third - warmth. I’ll need to get a fire goi- no. No, I’m not thinking straight. Mazel’s cockpit has built-in heating. That’ll do. That’s enough.

Satisfied - for now - I climb out and step onto the right wing.

But I freeze.

What does Zyla think of me now?

My heart kicks. I force myself down the wing to her side of the cockpit. She’s already standing. When she sees me, she gives a weak smile.

It eases something sharp and aching inside me.

I help her down, carrying her ever-humming box as we drop to the grass. We take big steps through the thick growth and turn to scan the clearing.

The sky’s turning purple. The sun has vanished behind the hills.

I spot a clump of trees - dense enough to hide Mazel - and turn to Zyla.

“Alright. I’m going to prepare for the night. I’ll be right back.”

She nods.

I jog back to Mazel, climb inside, and power her up just enough to engage the wheel drives. The electric motors whine softly, and with a low groan she begins to roll forward - engine off, cockpit open.

A minute later, I’m back on the ground with my head inside Mazel’s cargo bay.

Blankets. Rations. Emergency packs - MREs. Not great, but they’ll have to do.

I carry the supplies over to Zyla, who watches me work.

I smile.

She returns it.

The night sky twinkles with stars - pouring out wishes and dreams that people have thrown to them for centuries.

The blanket beneath me is soft against the earth. I lie there, gazing upward. Zyla lies beside me, her box gently humming, with Mazel standing watch to our left.

Her hand is cold, but soft. I hope the warmth of mine is enough to help.

We lie there in silence, watching the stars. There’s so much to say… but the words don’t come. And so we stay like that - just grateful for the company.

Then, softly, she speaks.

“Kaihi…”

“Mm?”

“Are… are we going to be alright?”

A simple question. One I can’t answer. She's thinking about tomorrow. About crossing the border.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I pray that we will be. But… I don’t know.”

She nods. She already knew the answer. But still - it was worth asking.

Suddenly she sits up. A cough rattles through her. I scramble up beside her as her body shakes with the effort. When she finally steadies, she turns to face me.

Her eyes are glassy, rimmed with tears.

“Can I please have a hug?”

I open my arms.

She falls into them, and I into hers.

Like a snapped thread, the day unravels behind my eyes. I sob - deep, ragged - and feel her shoulders tremble. She’s crying too.

So we hold each other, tight. Letting it out. Letting ourselves be.

And for once, there’s no one around to judge us.