October 1
07:45 Hours
North Dornman Air Force Base
Peace.
For once, North Dornman Air Force Base was quiet.
The snowfall had stopped sometime during the night, leaving a thin powdering of snow across the hangars and taxiways. Morning light cut across the sky in clear blue bands, no clouds in sight—just open skies above the base and a gentle breeze across the cold tarmac.
Inside the officers' quarters, the air was still.
Captain Emilie stood in front of the mirror, finishing the zip on her flight suit. Steam still clung faintly to the room from her quick bath. She tugged the collar into place, then ran a hand through her damp hair to shake some warmth back into her body.
She let out a breath, watching it mist slightly in the cold.
"Jeez… What a cold morning…"
Then—footsteps. Fast-paced, echoing faintly through the hallway.
Emilie turned her head just in time to hear the muffled voice of a young airman shouting down the corridor.
"Hey! The former trainees from this air base are here!"
"Second Lieutenant Teppei is by the main lounge! He's already talking with the other nuggets!"
Emilie let out a short laugh, shaking her head in amusement.
"Heh… Reminds me of all those years ago…"
She grabbed her glasses off the desk, slid them on, and stepped out into the hallway. The polished concrete floor was cold under her boots as she made her way toward the lounge.
When she reached it, the sound of chatter and laughter rolled out into the hallway. Leaning casually against the wall just outside the entrance, Emilie crossed her arms. To her right was an old cork board, littered with bulletins, flight schedules, and photographs yellowed with time.
One photo caught her eye—a familiar one.
An article pinned neatly below it bore the byline of Houallet, one of the base's reporters and archivists. The photo above it had been taken two years ago during training at the Teyvat Air Force Academy: Teppei grinning and flexing while pretending to headlock a flustered Ayaka. Mona stood to Ayaka's right, laughing so hard she was doubled over. Emilie stood to Teppei's left, facepalming—but laughing all the same.
A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"Ah… the old days, huh…"
Her attention shifted back to the present.
Inside the lounge, Teppei was animated—his usual over-the-top self, surrounded by a half-circle of wide-eyed cadets. He was already in the middle of telling one of his stories.
"There was this one time where we were doing a simulated dogfight, right? And man, our captain was something else!"
He pointed toward the back, though he hadn't looked—he knew Emilie was watching.
"She somehow misplaced her glasses that day and ran late! So she ended up flying her Tiger II with blurry-ass vision! But guess what?"
The cadets leaned in.
"She still got ace marks during that session!"
"Yup. I'm tellin' ya—outside the cockpit, she's sweet, polite, the kind you'd trust to babysit your kids. But once that canopy comes down? She's a whole different beast!"
Emilie couldn't help it. She chuckled.
The tension from the day before was gone—whatever disagreements they'd had in the aftermath of Mission 5 were buried. In this moment, things were simple again.
Teppei clapped his hands and grinned.
"Oh! By the way—"
He jabbed a thumb toward the back.
"That right there is Emilie!"
"She's our squadron leader. Our captain!"
The cadets immediately straightened and snapped to attention, saluting sharply toward her.
Emilie laughed, stepping into view and waving it off.
"At ease, everyone."
A young cadet stepped forward, starstruck.
"Captain Emilie! It's so nice to finally meet you!"
Emilie shook her head with a light chuckle.
"No need for the formalities, kid. Just 'Emilie' will do."
The cadet hesitated, then nodded.
"Um—yes, ma'am. Uh, Emilie. But... is it true what Lieutenant Teppei said? You flew without your glasses?"
Emilie raised an eyebrow and removed them, holding them up between her fingers.
"That's right."
She slipped them back on, smirking.
"That morning, after I finished suiting up, I went to grab these from my desk. But turns out I'd misplaced them—probably knocked them off the edge while getting ready. I tore my whole damn room apart looking for 'em."
She let out a dry laugh.
"By the time I checked the clock, I was already late for the pre-flight briefing. So I just accepted the fact I was about to fly with what was basically a 'disability.'"
The cadets exchanged glances, clearly amazed.
One asked, "So... those are corrective lenses? Not just for reading?"
Emilie nodded.
"Corrective. The Air Force doesn't require perfect 20/20 vision—as long as your performance is solid, that's what counts."
She paused, remembering the moment.
"Our training captain back then—Candace—gave me that classic glare and said: 'Where the hell are your glasses, Emilie?'"
"I just smiled and told her I was wearing contact lenses."
She laughed, shaking her head.
"And she actually bought that horseshit."
"But yeah, I climbed into that Tiger II with blurry vision and managed to get through the entire dogfight without a hitch. Hell—I got ace for the day."
Mona, standing off to the side, nodded with pride.
"Doesn't matter if the captain's flying blind—if she's got that much skill behind the stick, that's what makes her an ace."
"That's what being a real pilot is."
Emilie waved her hand.
"Oh come on. I'm no ace. I'm just doing my job."
She let the words linger.
"Protecting Teyvat from anyone who'd do it harm. Especially if the ones doing the harm… are one of us."
Silence.
The room stilled for a moment, the weight of her words sinking in.
Then—Teppei broke it with a loud clap.
"Hell yeah! That's exactly how a captain talks!"
Emilie rolled her eyes, chuckling.
"All right, settle down, Teppei."
Laughter broke out across the lounge again as Teppei launched into another exaggerated story about their training days. The cadets leaned in, hanging onto every word—wide-eyed, eager, and inspired.
Outside, the skies over North Dornman remained calm.
But somewhere out there, a storm was slowly brewing.
The Commander walked beside Emilie, his boots thudding softly against the tarmac as the distant whine of turbines hummed in the background. He glanced over with a faint smirk.
"Seems like the rookies here enjoy your company, huh."
Emilie gave a small nod, her arms casually folded behind her back.
"Looks like that, sir."
The Commander exhaled through his nose, shifting his gaze toward the flight line.
"By the way, Captain," he said.
Emilie turned her head slightly, one brow raised. "What is it, sir?"
He met her gaze with a dry chuckle. "These rookies have a tenuous grasp of flying... and absolutely no skill in mid-air refueling."
Emilie groaned and ran a gloved hand over her face. "Let me guess. We're gonna have to make a fuel stop at every single airbase we hit?"
He nodded. "That's right."
He handed her a folded briefing slip. "Flight plans are already finalized. You'll depart today from North Dornman, then hop to Windrise, Guili AFB in Liyue, then Chenyu Vale AFB near Qiaoying. Final stop is Petrichor."
Emilie pinched the bridge of her nose. "And how long are we looking at?"
"Six to eight hours flight time, including refuel stops and any potential delays," the Commander replied.
"Right... right..." she muttered, shaking her head. Then she sighed. "Well, at least they'll be in safe hands."
The Commander gave her a firm nod. "Right."
That Afternoon
The apron at North Dornman Air Force Base roared with activity.
The high-pitched whines of APUs filled the air, punctuated by the rumble of tow tractors and the hiss of hydraulic jacks. Yellow-shirted ground crews darted around the parked aircraft. Static discharges sparked faintly across pitot tubes as the metal birds came to life.
Twelve F-5 Tiger II aircraft sat prepped for departure, lined up like fledgling hawks behind their mentors—Wolfsbane Squadron.
Due to the rookies' complete lack of in-flight refueling training, they'd be forced to land and refuel at every airbase along the route.
Emilie stood near her F-14A Tomcat, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at the controlled chaos before her.
"Looks like we're in for the long haul today..." she muttered.
"Yeah... seems like it..." Mona replied, her voice soft as she bowed her head slightly.
Teppei let out a short chuckle. "Hey! At least we get to have some real chatter without thunder blockhead butting in."
Mona smirked. "Fair point, Teppei."
Teppei's tone shifted as he looked over at Emilie. "By the way, Captain… sorry about yesterday."
Emilie shook her head. "I should be the one apologizing. I lashed out at you."
Teppei grinned. "Well, all's forgiven, right?"
Emilie nodded. "Right."
From across the apron, the canopies of the twelve Tiger IIs began to lower, one after another. Ground crews scrambled—disconnecting hoses, removing ladders, signaling final checks.
Emilie turned toward her Tomcat. "Well, let's get going. We've got a long day ahead of us."
The four split up, each heading to their respective F-14As.
Emilie climbed up the boarding ladder and dropped into the command seat of her Tomcat, strapping into the Martin-Baker GRU-7A ejection seat. She tugged the shoulder harness tight and clipped it into place, adjusting the restraint straps until snug. Her helmet sat on her lap—white, with a black-and-blue Wolfsbane insignia on the side. She slid it over her head and locked the chinstrap into place.
With her gloved hand, she reached up and flipped the canopy switch.
The canopy lowered with a mechanical whine, then sealed shut with a thunk and hiss as the locking actuators engaged. The outside world muted, the air inside pressurized slightly.
Her hand moved to the right-side engine starter switch. Click.
The right TF30 engine began spooling.
RPM: 10%…
15%...
20%...
She pushed the right throttle out of cutoff and into idle.
The EGT gauge spiked gently. The engine roared to life.
She repeated the process with the left engine.
10%...
15%...
20%...
Throttle forward. Idle.
Both engines settled into a low, steady rumble.
She looked out her left, raised her hand, and gave the ground crew the signal to disconnect external power and air.
Two crew members acknowledged with a thumbs-up and moved swiftly—removing the power cart cable and the conditioned air hose. They secured the hatches, stowed the gear, and gave one last thumbs-up before clearing out of the danger zone.
Emilie keyed her radio.
"Herring, Starseer, Soumetsu. Radio check. You with me?"
The replies came in sequence.
"Loud and clear, Raven."
"Gotchu, Raven."
"We can hear you, Captain."
Emilie nodded to herself.
"Perfect. We depart first. Circle the airbase, let the rookies take off, and once the last one's airborne, we lead the formation. Same routine at each landing—rookies go first, we bring up the rear. Understood?"
"Acknowledged. Starseer, copy."
"Herring, wilco."
"Soumetsu, roger."
One by one, the Tomcats taxied from their hardstands and rolled toward the taxiway. The sun glinted off their canopies and swept-back wings as they lined up on the runway in a tight four-ship formation.
After the tower cleared them, all four jets roared down the runway and lifted off in perfect sync, gear retracting, engines screaming.
They climbed to 800 feet AGL and began a slow orbit over North Dornman AFB, keeping a watchful eye as the rookies launched in pairs.
The Tiger IIs leapt into the air, climbing into the golden afternoon sky and forming up on TACAN waypoints. Their silhouettes grew smaller with each passing minute.
Once the last of the F-5s departed, the four Tomcats shifted position and assumed the lead of the extended formation, their afterburners flickering faintly in the distance.
The same routine repeated at each airbase.
Land. Refuel. Brief the rookies. Take off again.
Every stop took roughly 30 to 40 minutes to top off the Tigers and run basic systems checks.
By the time they reached Chenyu Vale Air Force Base, the sun had begun to dip behind the horizon. A warm amber glow lit the mountains of Qiaoying as shadows stretched across the tarmac.
And still—they had one more leg to go.
Petrichor awaited.
Chenyu Vale Air Force Base – Apron, 1746 Hours
The warm hues of sunset cast long shadows across the airstrip as the tarmac shimmered faintly with the day's retained heat. Emilie stood beside her F-14A Tomcat, arms crossed and helmet tucked beneath one arm, the nose of her aircraft catching the fading light. Her eyes trailed over the row of F-5 Tiger IIs parked nearby, their fuselages streaked with grime and heat ripples, each one attended to by a flurry of ground crew refueling them for the final leg of the journey.
Twelve rookies. Twelve fuel-hungry jets. And zero mid-air refueling competency.
She stifled a yawn behind her glove, rubbing her eyes with a sigh.
"Man… I'm tired," she muttered, her voice slightly muffled. "A two-day flight would've been a hell of a lot better than hauling rookies across four airbases in one go."
Ayaka stood beside her, arms at ease, flight suit slightly loosened at the collar. She gave a slow nod, her expression neutral but clearly fatigued.
"Yeah… but hey," she replied, "after this, it's a straight shot to Petrichor."
Teppei stretched out his back with an audible crack and groaned. "Ugh. I can't wait to throw on my rock playlist again once we're airborne."
Mona chuckled lightly, brushing a few strands of hair away from her cheek as she leaned against the wing root of her Tomcat.
"Just don't crank it up so loud that we can hear it through your helmet again," she quipped.
Teppei raised a brow, mock-offended. "What the hell's that supposed to mean!?"
Mona smirked without missing a beat. "It means lower your damn volume, Herring."
The four of them laughed—tired, genuine laughter. The kind that kept pilots sane after long hauls, endless checklists, and rookie handholding.
Their brief respite was interrupted by the approach of an officer, clipboard in hand, pacing with the urgency of someone carrying fresh orders. He stopped just short of Emilie.
"Captain Emilie," he said, offering a salute. "We've received updated orders from headquarters."
Emilie exhaled through her nose and straightened up. "Alright. Let's hear it."
The officer adjusted his cap slightly, casting a glance at the others before continuing.
"Captain Maksim relayed the message. You and your squadmates are to remain here at Chenyu Vale for the next two days."
That made Emilie raise a brow. "We're grounded? Why?"
The officer's tone dropped slightly, more serious now.
"Command wants Wolfsbane to provide combat air patrol coverage for Zephyr's Island tomorrow morning."
"Zephyr's?" Mona echoed, tilting her head. "Isn't that the SSTO site under construction?"
"Affirmative," the officer replied with a nod. "An SSTO is launching at 0600 hours. Its payload is a laser system meant to upgrade the low-orbit spacecraft Skywarden. The platform's being fitted for anti-satellite defense capability. Command believes it could become a high-priority target."
Teppei raised a finger, processing the sudden info dump. "Wait, wait—aren't the Sepharis Birds being built out there too? The prototype squadron?"
"They are," the officer confirmed. "But intel suggests the mass driver launcher itself is the potential target—not the birds."
There was a brief silence between the squadmates. Emilie looked over at Mona, then Ayaka, then Teppei. All three of them mirrored the same look: concern veiled behind professionalism.
"Understood," Emilie said firmly. "We'll be ready by dawn."
"Copy that, Captain. You'll receive your mission briefing and new comms frequencies by 0500. Get some rest tonight. You'll need it."
With that, the officer turned on his heel and disappeared into the growing dusk, boots clacking across the concrete.
Emilie exhaled sharply and looked to the sky, now awash in violet and gold.
"Damn," she muttered. "No such thing as downtime anymore."
The others silently nodded in agreement.
And just like that, another day of escort duty gave way to something far more volatile.
Tomorrow, Zephyr's Island.
Tomorrow, the hunt begins again.