November 29
1643 Hours
Almost a week had passed since the operation to rescue Captain Mona Megistus.
Now, the squadron of Petrichor Island was whole once again.
A replacement F-14A had been flown in from the Fontaine mainland — an old bird that had sat in surplus storage for months, now roaring back to life under Wolfsbane Squadron.
In the crew lounge, the four pilots were finally able to breathe.
Emilie sat on the couch beside Mona, while Ayaka and Teppei leaned casually against the window.
Ayaka spoke up first, arms crossed.
"You heard the Vice President's going to make a speech at Marcotte?"
Teppei nodded. "Yeah, I heard. Supposed to be at the Marcotte Stadium."
Mona chimed in, confirming, "Yep. And it's a big one—people from both Natlan and Teyvat are expected to be there."
Ayaka gave a small nod, glancing between Mona and Emilie.
"Looks like you two are getting along now."
Emilie chuckled, nudging Mona lightly with her shoulder.
"I told you, didn't I? I said I just needed to have a friendly chat with her after the rescue."
Teppei grinned, raising a finger.
"Specifically, you said, 'rescue her sorry ass.'"
Mona turned to Emilie with a playful smirk.
"You actually said that?"
Emilie shrugged, laughing.
"My emotions got the better of me."
The four laughed, the heavy drama of the past week finally starting to lift.
But then, the door creaked open. An officer stepped in, voice sharp.
"Wolfsbane! New op just came in. Briefing room, on the double!"
Emilie immediately stood, grabbing her helmet from the table.
"Right. Let's move."
The others grabbed their gear and followed her briskly down the hallway to the nearby briefing room.
They slid into their seats just as Commander Courbevoie stepped up to the podium, wasting no time.
"Alright, listen up. I'll keep this short.
The Vice President is giving a major speech at Marcotte City's stadium today — a rally to keep public morale strong.
You four have been personally assigned to perform a ceremonial flyby over the stadium."
He paused, sweeping a hard gaze across the room.
"So don't fuck this up."
A few of the pilots stiffened slightly.
"This is an honor. Not just a mission. You're not just flying a show—you're flying the hopes of this damn country.
Get it right."
He clicked the remote, bringing up a map of the city.
"And because this involves the Vice President, consider yourselves part of the aerial security detail. Keep your eyes open. Anything — and I mean anything — looks suspicious, you are authorized to engage."
"You will remain in the area after the flyby for a full air patrol. Maintain formation. Stay sharp.
You are fully armed — do not treat this like a parade flight."
A grim silence hung after his words.
Commander Courbevoie nodded sharply.
"You launch in twenty. Dismissed."
The squad stood and saluted, helmets under their arms.
Without a word, they marched out to the flight line.
Teppei broke the tension first, laughing a little as they walked.
"Hey, another easy one, right? Simple show of force?"
Emilie gave him a dry smile.
"Simple, huh? Just remember we're not done after the flyby, hero—we've got patrol duty too."
Teppei waved her off.
"Yeah yeah, but c'mon... who'd attack Fontaine's mainland now?"
Mona grinned as she walked.
"Oh, I don't know... maybe Natlan?"
Ayaka laughed softly.
"Hopefully not."
They reached their aircraft—four F-14A Tomcats gleaming on the tarmac, their wings stretched like eagles waiting to leap.
Each pilot peeled off toward their machine.
Emilie climbed the ladder into her Tomcat. The familiar seat welcomed her like an old friend.
She strapped in and got to work.
She switched the altimeter from STBY to RESET. The display flickered to life.
Aligned the standby attitude indicator.
Power panels — VDI, HUD, HSD/ECM — switched on, bathing her cockpit in green and amber light.
She reached back and flicked the air source to BOTH ENG. Oxygen hissed quietly into her helmet.
She pushed the variable sweep wing lever fully forward—the Tomcat's great wings unfurled, ready for flight.
She flipped the Master Reset switch and engaged the UHF radio: GUARD and BOTH selected. TACAN set to T/R.
AFCS systems—pitch, roll, yaw—enabled.
Lights green across the board.
Helmet secure. Harness tightened. Canopy lowered with a mechanical hiss—locking her into the machine.
Time to start the engines.
She flipped the engine start switch for the right engine.
Whine. Whir. RPM rising.
At 25%, she cracked the throttle out of cutoff. The FF and TIT surged. The engine caught with a smooth, deep rumble.
Left engine next—same smooth rhythm. Twin TF30s alive, ready to unleash hell if needed.
She signaled the ground crew.
Two techs rushed in—disconnecting air and ground power, hatches slammed closed. They gave her a crisp thumbs-up.
She returned it, then keyed her radio.
"Herring, Starseer, Soumetsu—radio check."
Clear and steady, their voices came back:
"Loud and clear, ma'am."
"Copy that, boss."
"Affirmative."
Emilie nodded firmly inside her helmet.
"Alright. Wolfsbane, taxi out."
One by one, they rolled forward, F-14s growling down the taxiway.
At the runway threshold, they lined up side by side: Emilie lead left, Mona on her wingtip, Teppei and Ayaka in trail.
Emilie pushed the throttles forward—afterburners flared to life, kicking up twin pillars of fire behind her.
Speed built rapidly:
120 knots.
135.
145.
154...
168.
She pulled back, feeling the Tomcat surge into the sky.
Positive rate. Gear up.
The gear thunked closed beneath her. Her wingmates followed, a tight four-ship formation soaring upward into the gold-streaked sky.
They turned north, engines howling above the fields and rivers of Fontaine.
Ahead, the glittering towers of Marcotte City awaited.
The ceremonial flight had begun.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky bathed the world in a soft, golden haze.
Four aircraft flew in a tight diamond formation at 1,000 feet AGL, their silhouettes cutting sharp figures against the twilight sky.
Leading the formation was Emilie, her F-14A steady and sure. To her left and right, slightly behind, flew Mona and Teppei respectively, while Ayaka trailed neatly behind Emilie, holding the rear position.
Ayaka smiled to herself, the sight of their perfect formation stirring pride within her. She keyed her radio.
"I'm proud to be flying like this," she said, her voice soft but brimming with emotion.
Teppei chuckled over the comms.
"Hehe, gotta have your manners, kid!"
Emilie laughed lightly.
"Take it easy, Herring. It's not like the Vice President is listening to our chatter," she said. "Alright, remember — do not stray too far. Stay on my lead."
One by one, the responses came:
"Roger that!"
"Understood, ma'am!"
"Wilco, Raven!"
Emilie nodded to herself, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
"Parfaite! Let's begin our ceremonial flight."
The voice of AWACS Thunderspike crackled over the radio, enthusiastic.
"You heard the Captain. Commence your ceremonial flight!"
Emilie gently pulled back on the control stick, her F-14A's nose rising smoothly to a 30-degree climb. Behind her, Mona, Teppei, and Ayaka mirrored her move perfectly.
They climbed steadily to 2,000 feet, then Emilie eased the stick forward, lowering the nose back down to a shallow 30-degree descent. The others followed with synchronized grace.
They descended to 600 feet AGL before Emilie once again pulled up, initiating another clean 30-degree climb.
Teppei giggled over the radio.
"We look good! We're lookin' great!"
Emilie chuckled.
"Focus now, Herring!"
Leveling off at 2,000 feet again, the formation pressed onward toward the city, the skyline slowly emerging from the hazy glow of the sunset.
Ahead, the first buildings appeared through the mist. Emilie gently lowered her nose to a 20-degree descent. The others followed suit without hesitation.
They dropped down to 250 feet AGL, leveling off just enough to clear the rooftops safely.
As the stadium came into view, Emilie sharply banked her Tomcat 90 degrees to the right — but continued flying straight, wings slicing through the air. The others mimicked the maneuver crisply.
Then, without missing a beat, Emilie snapped 90 degrees left, again maintaining a straight line. Her wingmates followed flawlessly.
Leveling off once more, the four aircraft roared toward the stadium, skimming just 250 feet above it at 450 knots. The thunderous whine and roar of their Pratt & Whitney TF30 engines echoed across the open roof, shaking the stands.
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause as the Tomcats ripped overhead, the twilight glinting off their sleek fuselages.
Emilie keyed her mic, elation in her voice.
"Fantastique! We're flying beautifully!"
"Starseer, Herring — when I say 'GO,' break formation and cross each other's flight paths. Understood?"
Quick responses came.
"Roger!"
"Understood!"
Emilie continued.
"Soumetsu, follow my lead."
Ayaka responded immediately.
"Yes, Captain."
Emilie began counting down.
"Five...
Four...
Three...
Two...
One...
Go!"
Emilie slammed the throttles to full afterburner, feeling the powerful surge of the TF30s as she yanked the stick back. Her F-14's nose clawed upward, engines roaring.
Mona and Teppei broke formation cleanly, banking left and right respectively.
Emilie and Ayaka stayed together, pitching up until inverted before beginning a graceful climb downward. Emilie rolled level and eased back the throttle, her execution perfect.
Ayaka stayed tucked in close, matching Emilie's moves beat for beat.
Above them, Mona and Teppei crossed each other's paths in a dramatic aerial "X," just above Emilie and Ayaka's flight path.
Emilie keyed her radio again, proud.
"Perfect, Herring! Perfect, Starseer!"
AWACS Thunderspike chimed in right after.
"Nicely done, Wolfsbane! That concludes your ceremonial flight!"
Emilie smiled and called out.
"Wolfsbane, form up. Let's start our patrol."
The four F-14As began reforming, flying back toward Emilie in formation.
Down below, as the four jets arced around the city at low altitude, the Vice President of Teyvat took the stage inside the stadium, his voice booming over loudspeakers — broadcast live across the nation.
"Citizens of Teyvat! Please, lend us your ears!"
"As your Vice President, I stand here before you on behalf of President Imena. Listen to your fellow countrymen cheering before me! They are filled with righteous anger against Natlan — and they swear they will not lower their weapons until Natlan has surrendered!"
He raised his hand dramatically.
"Now... I ask you... LISTEN TO THEIR CHEERS!"
Up above, inside the cockpits, the pilots listened in through the radio feed.
Teppei scowled.
"Aw great... here comes the cheers. And the thundering applause..."
But instead of raucous cheers…
A low murmur began to rise.
Then, voices.
A melody — soft at first, but growing stronger.
It was not applause.
It was a song.
A well-known anti-war song, one that originated from Jarilo — a distant nation with no part in the current conflict.
The crowd sang:
"The dawn, a brand new day
The sun, beating back the endless night
A ray, of warmth, around me
At last, I see, the light..."
Panic rippled through the Vice President's voice as he stammered at the microphone.
"Uh... this... this song! Citizens! Please! Stop this!"
Up above, as the F-14s soared over the stadium again, Teppei sang along to the crowd's anthem, half-heartedly and half as a joke.
"To dance, with morning birds!
High trees swaying, sunlight shines so clear!"
Emilie chuckled through the radio, shaking her head slightly.
"This isn't even rock and roll, Teppei!"
Teppei laughed.
"Who cares!?" he shot back. "They just want to get along with Natlan too, right? This song's got soul!"
Then, Thunderspike's voice cracked through the radio, cutting the moment short.
"Wolfsbane, alert! Two enemy squadrons inbound to your location — one escort, one stealth bomber squadron! Marcotte Air Force Base attempted a scramble, but one runway's down and the other's blocked by a crash-landed C-17 Globemaster! Charybdis Air Force Base is the nearest support — ETA, four minutes!"
Mona responded immediately, voice sharp.
"Roger that!"
Ayaka sighed, tension creeping in.
"So we're on our own for now?"
Emilie slammed the throttles forward, feeling the rumble of the TF30s growl through the airframe.
"Yes! So engage! Protect the civilians below at all costs!"
Teppei glanced down at the stadium, frowning.
"The people are still singing... even with the air-raid sirens going off!"
Then it hit them.
Their radars lit up — IFF systems screaming — dozens of bogeys.
All Eurofighter Typhoons.
Mona's voice rose, a mixture of awe and dread.
"Holy shit! That's way too many!"
Ahead, Emilie spotted two Typhoons closing in. She instinctively switched over to XLAA missiles.
Tone. Lock.
"Fox Three, Fox Three!"
Three XLAA missiles dropped clean off her Tomcat's belly, igniting with sharp trails of smoke as they sped forward.
Emilie keyed her radio, sharp and clear.
"All units, disperse! Attack all targets — engage now!"
She broke hard right, trailing Teppei.
Mona and Ayaka split left, diving into their own intercept vectors.
Behind Emilie, all three XLAA missiles found their mark, slamming into the Eurofighters with violent bursts of flame.
The enemy radio crackled open, panicked.
"Shit! Three planes down!"
"Damn you, Emberhowl!"
Thunderspike's voice came back, urgent.
"The stadium evacuation has begun! Keep them off the civilians!"
The skies quickly turned chaotic — smoke trails, missile contrails, the distant flash of explosions.
With every missile launch from Wolfsbane, another Typhoon dropped.
And still, they pressed on.
Mona's voice hissed through the static.
"This isn't a fucking battle, it's a slaughter! Feels like we're being sacrificed in some sick ritual!"
Yet as the enemy numbers dropped into single digits—
—more came.
Another wave, a tactical fighter-bomber squad.
Then—
Another voice, calm and mocking, cut into the radio net.
"Attention all units inbound to Marcotte City... heh. Guess they got us moving too..."
Thunderspike snapped back.
"What the fuck? Who is this!? State your squadron immediately!"
The voice ignored him.
"Seemed like a good training drill... but it's all done now. All teams, return to base."
Sudden, violent static burst across every channel.
Emilie gritted her teeth, slamming her gloved palm against her helmet.
"Argh! What the fuck is that!?"
Mona's voice came next, furious.
"Kill this static! I can't hear a damn thing!"
Thunderspike roared across the disrupted comms.
"ECCM! Restore communication links, NOW!!"
Ayaka's voice came through next — panicked, strained.
"The reinforcements aren't coming! What the fuck is happening!?"
Thunderspike came back a few seconds later, voice still rattled.
"Armee de l'Air 405th Squadron and 208th Tactical Fighter Team are on their way! Hang in there, Wolfsbane!"
"Inbound enemy stealth fighters — F-117As!"
Emilie locked onto the nearest Nighthawk, swooping behind it.
She lined up her shot.
"Fox Two, Fox Two!"
Two AIM-9 Sidewinders ripped free from her Tomcat's rails, smoke trailing as they streaked toward the black triangle.
She broke hard right, flipping into a sharp 180 to hunt the next stealth intruder.
Behind her, the Sidewinders found their mark — a direct hit.
The F-117A disintegrated midair, scattering flaming debris across the sky.
Thunderspike cut back in, voice urgent:
"Evacuation's almost complete! Wolfsbane, hang in there!"
Above Marcotte City, the Four F-14s of Wolfsbane Squadron fought on — bloodied but unbroken — defending their home.
Then Teppei shouted over the radio, his voice sharp with panic:
"This damn Eurofighter's on my tail! I can't shake it!"
A split second later, the enemy Eurofighter behind him launched a missile. The missile flared from its railings, streaking toward Teppei's F-14A.
Teppei yanked the stick hard to the right, trying to break the missile's lock—
—but he was a moment too late.
The missile found its mark, detonating close to the cockpit in a flash of fire and shrapnel. The Tomcat shuddered violently. Damage alarms screamed inside the cockpit.
"Fuck, fuck! I—I'm hit!" Teppei's voice cracked over the comms.
Mona immediately keyed in, her voice frantic:
"Herring! Are you okay!?"
Teppei gritted his teeth, assessing the damage as smoke filled the cockpit.
"Y-Yeah... Nothing big. I'm not wounded. I can keep this thing in the air... for a little while."
He let out a dry chuckle.
"Heh... Besides, planes are expendable, right, Raven?"
Emilie, gritting her teeth as she engaged another bogey, replied sharply:
"Of course they are."
Teppei laughed weakly.
"That's it, Raven... now that's how a captain talks."
Emilie locked onto a closing F-117A, ignoring the sting in her chest.
Lock.
Tone.
"Fox Two! Fox Two!"
Two Sidewinders streaked off the Tomcat's rails, trailing smoke. One of them found its mark. The stealth bomber erupted into a fireball midair, debris raining down over the city.
"Target hit! Target hit!" Emilie called.
Ayaka's voice cut in, sharp and desperate:
"We can't defend the city with just four planes! We have to hold them back until the evacuation's complete!"
Emilie nodded grimly, pushing her throttle forward.
"I'm running low on missiles!" she warned.
Mona keyed her radio urgently.
"Herring! Can you bail out!?"
Teppei hesitated, the situation flashing through his mind.
"I... uhhh... kinda hard at a time like this! Where the hell would I even ditch!?"
Emilie barked back:
"The river, Teppei! Ditch it in the river!"
Teppei grunted.
"Sounds like a plan... but I'm still flying escort until the last second!"
AWACS Thunderspike came over the channel, voice tight:
"All units in Marcotte City, do not return to base! The city is still under attack!"
Another explosion boomed overhead—Mona had just downed the last F-117A.
Thunderspike updated:
"All stealth bombers destroyed!
Allied fighters en route! ETA three minutes!"
Teppei exhaled heavily, shaking in his seat.
"There goes my HUD... and there goes my radar..."
He cursed under his breath.
"Circuits are fried. Hydraulics are going too... Stick's barely responding…"
Mona's voice cracked through the static:
"Herring! Please! Forget about the plane! Bail out! Bail out!"
Emilie screamed through the comm:
"Herring!! EJECT!! EJECT!!"
Teppei nodded, determination in his eyes.
"Okay... I'm ejecting now."
Thunderspike chimed in, anxious:
"Captain Teppei, report! Are you okay!?"
Teppei, struggling against the failing systems, responded:
"Not so good... Controlling this thing's a nightmare. Even the hand pump's dead. I'll try to steer it away from the city before I punch out…"
Mona urged:
"Wilco. Just bail out, please!"
Teppei fought the spiraling aircraft, every second feeling heavier. He grabbed the ejection handle above his head.
Pulled hard.
Nothing.
"Damn it!!" he cursed, tugging harder. Again and again.
Still nothing.
The canopy stayed locked in place.
Warning alarms blared. Fire lights blinked furiously.
Teppei sighed, his voice quieter now as he keyed the radio:
"The electrical's shot… The canopy won't blow… and the ejection seat's probably dead too..."
Emilie, her voice breaking, shouted:
"DON'T GIVE UP, TEPPEI!
KEEP TRYING!!
TEPPEI!!!"
Teppei smiled faintly, feeling the plane lurch and buck underneath him.
"Heh... I'm gonna miss that sweet voice…"
He closed his eyes, a strange calm washing over him.
"Take care of yourself...
Captain Emilie…"
The F-14A, smoke trailing from its ruined fuselage, spiraled downward.
Out of control.
And then—
Impact.
The Tomcat slammed into the center of the stadium with a deafening explosion.
A column of smoke and fire roared into the sky, blotting out the sun.
The blast shook the city for miles.
Emilie leaned forward in her seat, gasping, tears streaming from her eyes.
In unison, Emilie, Mona, and Ayaka screamed into the radio:
"TEPPEI!!!"
Then—
Silence.
Only the distant wail of sirens and the crackle of burning wreckage filled the empty sky.
Their F-14s leveled out into steady flight.
They had lost one of their own.
Emilie bowed her head, tears spilling from her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting to maintain enough composure to keep flying, to stop herself from sobbing uncontrollably.
AWACS Thunderspike sighed heavily across the radio.
"...Damn it..."
There was a pause.
"Look... I hate to say this now... but... we've got another wave of enemies inbound. All units... please... engage."
Emilie slowly raised her head, her gaze narrowing into a glare.
She had completely lost it.
She was low on missiles.
She was out of special weapons.
And she had run out of mercy.
She keyed her radio, her voice coming through dark, cold, burning with fury and heartbreak.
"Emilie... engaging."
Without hesitation, she screamed in raw rage, slamming her throttles forward into full afterburner. The twin engines of her F-14 roared like angry beasts as she tore through the sky.
On her left, Ayaka slammed her fist against her canopy, yelling into the comms.
"URGH!!!"
The enemy comms crackled in again, full of mocking bravado.
"They're no demons! Let's take them out!"
Ahead of Emilie, four Eurofighters spread into attack formation.
Without even thinking, Emilie flicked her thumb to the Special Weapons selector — XLAA missiles.
Lock tones screamed into her headset.
Four locks.
She squeezed the trigger without hesitation.
Four XLAA missiles streaked off her rails, contrails curling behind them.
Three direct hits.
Three Eurofighters burst into fireballs, debris scattering into the sky.
The last enemy jet broke off hard left, trying to escape. But Emilie was already on him, snapping her control stick violently, the F-14A shrieking under the brutal g-forces.
The two fighters engaged in a vicious dogfight, slicing through the skies. The Eurofighter, with its superior agility, jinked and twisted, trying desperately to shake her. But Emilie pushed her Tomcat to the absolute edge — snapping the stick left and right, squeezing every ounce of performance out of the aging fighter.
On the enemy comms, panic.
"Wh-What's going on!? Her maneuverability is scary! Even better than before!!"
Another pilot shouted.
"Is this the true power of the Emberhowl!?"
A third tried to rally them.
"Don't lose your confidence! We can manage them!"
But even he hesitated.
"Captain! We have inbound squadrons of enemy fighters! We have to abandon the mission!"
Silence.
Then:
"Fine."
The Eurofighter broke north, fleeing.
But Emilie showed no mercy.
She squeezed the trigger.
The Vulcan cannon roared.
Rounds tore into the Eurofighter, shredding its rear fuselage. Fuel leaked and ignited, the jet erupting into flame.
Then, with deadly precision, Emilie fired again.
The rounds punched through the cockpit.
The enemy pilot slumped instantly — dead before he even realized it.
The stricken Eurofighter spiraled downward and crashed into the river, disappearing in a plume of water and smoke.
AWACS Thunderspike came back over the radio.
"Enemy planes are retreating. The Armee de l'Air 405th Squadron and the 208th Tactical Fighter Squadron have arrived."
Emilie steadied her plane at low altitude, gliding just above the rooftops. She banked southwest — toward the stadium.
Mona and Ayaka formed up beside her, one on each wingtip.
Thunderspike continued, voice thick with emotion.
"We've received an update from the ground."
"Apart from some injuries during the evacuation... there are no civilian casualties."
He paused.
Then, quieter:
"He... he was a role model for us all..."
The comms fell silent, save for the hum of engines and the crackle of static.
Emilie couldn't hold back any longer.
She yanked her oxygen mask off, letting it fall to her chest.
Tears poured from her eyes, blurring her vision.
A sob escaped her lips.
Then another.
She clenched the stick, struggling to stay airborne.
Thunderspike's voice came through again, softer now.
"Join me... in saluting... Captain Teppei."
Slowly, Emilie raised her right hand to her forehead, trembling as she formed a salute.
Mona and Ayaka mirrored her on either side.
Then — from the horizon — five F/A-18s and two F-35Cs from the 405th roared overhead in a diamond formation.
As they passed over the stadium, the rightmost F-35C pulled up sharply, climbing into the heavens alone — a missing man formation.
A tribute.
A farewell.
Thunderspike sighed, his voice almost a whisper.
"Wolfsbane... let's go home."
Minutes later...
The three battered F-14A Tomcats were on final approach to Petrichor Air Force Base.
Their radios crackled to life.
"Wolfsbane, this is Tower. You are cleared to land. Welcome home."
No one answered.
Emilie simply guided her aircraft down the glideslope, the battered Tomcat feeling heavier than ever.
Her wheels kissed the concrete of Runway 30 with a gentle thud, the arresting hook ready but not needed. Mona and Ayaka followed in tight sequence, their Tomcats touching down one after another in solemn silence.
They slowed down, rolling down the runway under the gray afternoon sky. One by one, they peeled off onto the taxiway, their wings sweeping forward automatically as they taxied toward their assigned parking aprons.
Ground crews rushed toward them, connecting air power units and ground lines with brisk, practiced efficiency. But even the crews moved slower, the weight in the air palpable.
Inside the cockpit, Emilie sat frozen. She pulled the throttles from idle to cutoff, and the twin TF30 engines whined down, coughing faintly as the turbines spun to a stop.
She reached up and flipped the canopy release. The glass canopy hissed and slid backward.
For a moment, she didn't move.
Then slowly, she removed her helmet, setting it on her lap with shaking hands.
Her chest heaved, and tears began to spill uncontrollably onto her gloves.
"Oh..."
"T-Teppei..."
Her voice cracked, barely a whisper against the dead engine noise.
She unbuckled her harness with trembling fingers and climbed down the side of her Tomcat, her boots thudding on the tarmac. She barely noticed the ground crew trying to greet her.
Then—
A hand on her shoulder.
Emilie turned. It was Mona and Ayaka, both still in flight suits, helmets off, tears streaming freely down their faces.
Without a word, Emilie threw her arms around them. Mona and Ayaka pulled her into a tight embrace, burying their heads against each other, clinging desperately.
None of them spoke.
There was nothing left to say.
The three of them stood there on the tarmac, sobbing quietly, for what felt like an eternity.
Finally, exhausted, they broke apart and began the slow walk toward the main building, side by side, their boots dragging across the concrete.
Inside the main hallway, they almost bumped into Base Commander Maksim.
The Commander raised a hand in greeting.
"Hey! Great job out there!" he said, forcing a smile.
The three pilots simply walked past him without a word.
Maksim frowned, confused.
"Hey, are you three okay?" he called after them.
Ayaka, trailing behind the others, gave him a brief glance over her shoulder.
And slowly shook her head.
Maksim's heart sank. His hand dropped to his side. His face paled.
"Oh... no..." he breathed.
The three pilots parted ways in the corridor, each heading toward their own quarters.
They had defended the city.
They had completed the mission.
But in their hearts—
The day was a failure.
Because they had lost someone irreplaceable.
Someone full of energy. Full of jokes. Full of life.
Their brother-in-arms.
Their motormouth herring.
Teppei.