December 12
0400 Hours
The night was still.
Only the steady rush of the sea against the carrier's hull broke the silence. Above, the stars glimmered cold and distant, scattered across the sky like shards of frozen light.
Four pilots stood on the main deck, facing their F-14A Tomcats. The aircraft loomed quietly in the dim glow of deck floodlights, their matte-black paint swallowing every trace of reflection. Ground crews moved around them with disciplined efficiency, securing live ordnance—AIM-9 Sidewinders, AIM-7 Sparrows, and GBU-12 Paveway IIs—into place. Hydraulic lifts hissed. Ratchets clicked. No one spoke unless necessary.
Emilie stood apart, arms folded, gaze fixed on the Tomcats. Her silence carried weight—heavier than the ocean air.
Behind her, Mualani leaned slightly toward Mona.
"Looks like she's still clouded by everything," she murmured.
Mona nodded, her breath a faint mist in the chill. "We all are. We survived… but out there, to everyone else—we're already dead."
Ayaka's voice came softly. "To our families… we don't exist anymore."
She turned to Mualani. "What about you? Anyone back home who knows?"
Mualani shook her head. "Not me. Nobody knows I'm flying with this unit."
Ayaka gave a quiet nod, then shifted the topic gently. "You're from Natlan, right?"
"Yeah. I was in the reserves for a few years. Ended up flying with the Fontaine Air Force under a joint-training program."
Ayaka offered a faint smile. "Well, look at us now. Caught in something none of us asked for."
Mona's tone lightened a little. "So… what happens after the war?"
Mualani tapped her chin, thinking. "I've always loved surfing. Maybe I'll go pro. Ride waves instead of radar signatures."
She glanced toward Ayaka. "What about you?"
Ayaka looked up at the stars, the faint hum of deck machinery filling the pause. "Not sure yet. But the world's big. There'll be something. I'll find it."
Then Mualani turned to Mona. "And you?"
Mona smiled faintly. "I always wanted to be an astrologist. I even studied it before enlisting. Maybe I'll join Mondstadt's space program. See what's beyond the sky for real this time."
The three turned toward Emilie, who still hadn't moved from her place in front of the jets.
Emilie glanced over her shoulder. "…What?"
Mualani smirked, folding her arms. "Come on, Emilie. You've been listening while brooding over our birds."
Mona nudged her playfully. "What's your plan? You've got one, right?"
Emilie sighed and faced them fully. "Well… Mona, remember back at Petrichor? That thing I didn't tell you?"
"You said it was 'kinda weird,'" Mona recalled, raising a brow.
Emilie nodded. "Yeah… it's about fragrances."
Ayaka blinked. "Perfume?"
"Exactly." A small smile tugged at Emilie's lips. "After all this, I want to open a small perfume boutique in Charybdis. Got a little plot next to my house. Thought I'd finally do something peaceful for once."
Mona's eyes widened. "Wait—that's why you disappeared that night after we defended Marcotte! You didn't come back until morning!"
Emilie scratched the back of her neck, sheepish. "Y-Yeah. I bunked at home that night. Figured I'd actually sleep in a real bed for once."
Ayaka groaned. "You didn't even tell us! What about me and Teppei?"
Emilie laughed softly. "What, and end up with three starving pilots showing up at my door? I already gave most of my supplies to my parents before transferring to Petrichor. Had a friend watching the place."
Ayaka raised a hand like a student. "Okay, but… takeout?"
For the first time in days, laughter broke through the cold night—brief, fragile, and real.
Above them, the carrier lights flickered faintly in the dark, and the sea kept its rhythm below.
Then footsteps approached. Captain Gracie, President Imena, and Kaeya crossed the deck toward them.
Gracie clapped her hands once. "Alright, listen up. New intel. Briefing starts here—no time to waste." She turned to the deck crew. "All personnel—get the catapults ready. Standby for aircraft launch."
The deck erupted into quiet, precise motion. Ground crews snapped into stations, final checks running like clockwork as ordnance teams strapped live AIM-9 Sidewinders, AIM-7 Sparrows, and GBU-12 Paveway IIs into place. Hydraulic lifts hissed. Ratchets clicked. Voices were low and clipped.
Kaeya stepped forward with a stack of stapled papers. "Here's the situation," he began. "Fresh intel came in from Snezhnaya's 8th Air Division—22nd Unit, Grimhound Squadron. Two of their pilots—callsigns 'Knave' and 'Tsaritsa'—encountered that Veltrheim complex fifteen years ago. That facility wasn't just a mine. It's a disguised airbase and, worse, a full-scale munitions factory. The tunnel in Recon Photo Three is the main shaft. Whatever they're producing is inside that mountain."
Imena moved up a step, voice calm but hard. "Your mission is simple. Seal that tunnel. Destroy the mine entrance—permanently. We cannot allow another MIRV to leave that site. Bury whatever they're manufacturing. No more weapons of mass destruction. Not now. Not ever."
Kaeya inclined his head. "You'll run in as a standard four-ship formation."
Gracie's gaze sharpened. "Good luck out there."
The four pilots collected their helmets from beside their stowed boots and walked to their Tomcats.
Emilie climbed the ladder to her jet, the black skin of the F-14A glinting under the carrier lights. She slid into the cockpit, settled into the ejection seat, and began the startup sequence with practiced precision.
Altimeter: STBY → RESET—display flickered then recalibrated. She aligned the analog standby attitude with a single press. Avionics online—VDI, HUD, HSD/ECM—screens brightened and fans spun. Air source to BOTH ENG; oxygen switch—hiss. UHF set to GUARD/BOTH. TACAN to T/R. AFCS engaged—pitch, roll, yaw; control surfaces twitched under the deck lights.
All systems green.
She tightened the harness, latched the chin strap, and lowered the canopy. The seal hissed and clunked; the world damped down to a low vibration and electronic hum.
Start sequence: Engine No. 2—spool. At 25% RPM she moved the throttle to IDLE; fuel flow rose, FF and TIT climbed, ignition took. Engine No. 1 followed—another rising howl—both TF30s now alive, the airframe throbbing with the engines' steady growl.
She signaled left. Two deck crew moved in—one pulled the external air line from the left main gear, the other yanked the ground power plug from under the nose. Panels snapped closed. Thumbs-up exchanged.
Her headset filled with deck chatter.
"Emberhowl One and Two, catapults Two and One. Emberhowl Three and Four, aft cats. Prepare for simultaneous cat launches."
"Catapult pressure rising—set!"
Emilie keyed her mic. "Callsign check."
Replies came in crisp succession:
"Starseer, checking in."
"Tempest, ready to roll."
"Soumetsu, loud and clear."
"Raven, ready."
She returned the salute, released the parking brake, and taxied toward the starboard catapult. Mona followed to her left, engines idling in measured rhythm.
Directors guided her into position—nosewheel dead center. Hands up—halt. Brakes set. Launch bar extended with a metallic clunk into the shuttle groove. The wings were extended—hydraulic hum as the sweep locked forward. Master Reset pressed; auto-sweep rearmed. Crewmen secured the launch bar; safety pins removed.
"Raise the barriers!"
Final control checks: stick, rudder, spoilers—surfaces moved cleanly. A thumbs-up flashed from the deck.
"Raven, you're cleared for takeoff."
"Roger that," she replied, calm and focused.
Right hand on the glareshield, she returned the salute, then shoved both throttles forward into full afterburner. TF30s screamed; the catapult hit. The seat pressed her back as the Tomcat launched in a thunderous burst and peeled into the pre-dawn sky.
Airborne. She eased back on the stick, confirmed a positive climb, and reached for the gear lever—three green lights extinguished: gear up and locked.
Radio: "Emberhowl One, away."
Moments later: "Emberhowl Two, away."
"Emberhowl Three, away."
"Emberhowl Four, away."
"All aircraft launched. Good luck out there!"
Four Tomcats slotted into a tight V, throttles steady, wings level. They turned north—toward Khaenri'ah, toward the mountains, toward the mine.
This time they went in together—coordinated, armed, and ready.
Hours later…
The four F-14A Tomcats cruised low—just 1,000 feet AGL—in a tight diamond. The formation rode the contours of the land, wings level, vortexes from the leading edges washing the valley air into a froth. The mountain shadows stretched long beneath them; the mine sat like a dark wound at the range's foot.
The radio came alive.
Ayaka's voice, bright as ever, piped through.
"Today's got to be easier, right? No radars to worry about this time."
Emilie let out a short, flat sigh.
"No. Don't get cocky, Ayaka."
A small pause, then Ayaka conceded.
"Right. I should know better."
They pushed northward toward the old airfield and the tunnel mouth carved into granite. Below, ridges and scrub blurred past; the Tomcats kept a disciplined beat over the terrain.
Ayaka's tone softened, quieter than the deck chatter.
"I still can't believe you flew here solo before, Emilie… Thinking about all the nukes built and buried around this place… it's—chilling."
Mona's voice followed, low.
"Yeah…"
Mualani's reply had an edge of anger and conviction.
"Those nukes are exactly why the Khaenri'ahns resort to subversion—enough weapons and any country starts thinking they're the world's power. It's nauseating."
Emilie's reply was sharp.
"Exactly. It fucking baffles me—people delude themselves into believing they can control the things that leveled six cities. Don't forget the one that almost hit Dornman Port."
Mona exhaled, exhaustion undercutting her words.
"I'm tired of this hatred… everywhere we go. We can't let those warheads reach the battlefield and fuel that fire. I won't—let—that—happen."
Kaeya broke in over the net.
"Kaeya to Emilie. Gotta ask—how's it feel, flying with teammates?"
Emilie let out a small laugh that felt more like relief.
"You kidding me? Of course it feels great. I wouldn't be here without them. It's always a team effort, Kaeya."
Kaeya's voice carried a weight of memory.
"Ah. I wish I'd had that. I flew alone a lot—against my own nation, against my own blood. But look at you now. You've got friends."
Emilie's voice dropped to a murmur.
"Yeah… would've been even better if we were five…"
Kaeya's tone softened.
"I know that pain, Emilie. I know what it means to lose someone up there. But look around—the ones left lift you. The ones gone gave everything." He paused, steady. "If Teppei were here now… he'd be proud of all of you."
Emilie bowed her head for a beat in the cockpit, silence filling the panel glow. Then she raised her chin and keyed the mic.
"Heads up, people. Airfield in sight. Arm your GBUs. Single file—space out for the bombing run!"
The other three Tomcats peeled back, widening the formation into a staggered stack to clear ordnance and sightlines for the run-in.
They banked slightly right, noses angling toward the mountain and the mine entrance at its base.
This time, they would strike as one.
Then—
Klaxons blared in the distance.
An enemy frequency crackled to life on the intercept channel.
"Alert! Four black F-14As inbound to the airbase!"
"What!? You're only seeing them now? It's dark out!"
"Radars are down for maintenance! And they blend into the night sky!"
Right on cue, a searchlight snapped to life, its beam cutting across the valley until it locked on Emilie's Tomcat.
She narrowed her eyes and smirked.
"That's it. See who we really are."
The beam swept wider, catching each of the four black-painted F-14As in turn—sleek silhouettes glinting under the glare.
Then came more chatter over the enemy net:
"They're all carrying an emblem I've never seen before!"
"Describe it to me!"
"Uh… shield-shaped. Male figure in an open-faced knight's helmet—huge wings spread behind him. Black hair swept back like a storm. There's text too, but… I can't read it!"
Emilie's hand tightened on the stick. She keyed her mic.
"Everyone—attack."
She pushed the throttles to military power. Her F-14A surged forward into a shallow dive, engines snarling.
With a flick of her thumb, she toggled to her special loadout: GBU-12 Paveway II laser-guided bombs.
HUD symbology shifted as she slewed the targeting pod's crosshairs onto the mine entrance carved into the mountainside. Her breathing slowed, eyes locked on the reticle.
She held the trigger.
Six GBU-12s dropped clean and symmetrical from the Tomcat's belly rack. The aircraft jolted upward slightly as the payload released.
Emilie slammed her throttles into full afterburner, the TF30s howling, twin plumes of blue fire lancing through the night as she pulled into a steep climb.
The bombs struck home.
A thunderous explosion tore through the valley, fire and debris blooming outward in a rolling shockwave.
"Target hit, Emilie!" Mona's voice cut through the radio. "But we'll need heavier ordnance to trigger a collapse!"
Emilie leveled off, rolling to a high-cover position.
"Then keep the run going. I'll cover you."
"That rockbed won't fall easy," Kaeya's voice followed, measured and steady. "Stay on it."
Mona lined up next. Calm. Controlled. She eased into a low dive, wings level, HUD diamond steady on the same target point.
Trigger squeeze—six more GBUs away. She pulled into a full afterburner climb, vapor cones flashing off her wings as the bombs detonated below.
A second barrage. Fire roared from the mine entrance. The upper ledges began to crumble, rock fragments tumbling down the slope.
Then Mualani came diving in hard.
"My turn! Finishing strike!"
Her F-14A plunged toward the target at high speed, the black fuselage cutting through smoke and moonlight.
Target acquired. Bombs armed.
She dropped six. Punched into afterburner. Pulled up hard.
The third wave hit—detonations rolling through the mountainside like artillery.
And then—
The cliff gave way.
A roaring avalanche of boulders and soil thundered down, swallowing the entire mine entrance. The mountainside collapsed inward with a final, concussive impact that echoed across the valley floor.
For a moment, only static. Then enemy comms flared again—chaotic, panicked.
"Where are our fighters!?"
"Still prepping! We were caught off guard—they dragged us from our bunks!"
Another voice, calm and bitter: "Leave them. The last warheads—and the Abyss—are already shipped out."
Kaeya's voice cut through on the allied channel.
"Mission accomplished, Emberhowl. RTB."
The four F-14As tightened formation—wingtip to wingtip—and banked south.
Full throttle. Afterburners blazing.
They thundered out of the valley, leaving behind the burning ruins and a cloud of dust where the facility once stood.
Ayaka's voice broke the silence that followed.
"I caught something on their frequency… they said the last nuclear warheads—and the sole remaining Abyss MIRV—have been shipped out."
Three voices followed, sharp and alarmed.
"Huh!?"
"What!?"
"The fuck!?"
Emilie keyed in, voice taut.
"Kaeya!?"
"No confirmation yet," he replied, calm but grave. "But we did seal that munitions line for good."
The four Tomcats streaked southward through the night sky, exhaust trails glowing faintly against the stars.
Southbound.
Toward Musk Reef.
Toward the sea.
Hours later…
The four F-14As thudded back onto Arkhe's deck just as dawn bled orange and pale blue across the horizon. The sky wanted to be beautiful; inside the ship there was no time to notice it.
In the Captain's briefing room off the bridge, the mood was spare and hard—no triumph, only a tight, grinding tension.
Kaeya stood by the large display, arms folded, expression drawn. He let his breath out slow.
"We intercepted a Khaenri'ahn radio transmission," he said.
He turned to face them. "It confirmed the last operational nuclear bomb of Khaenri'ah—and the remaining Abyss MIRV—were shipped out last night."
Emilie leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "How long ago?"
Gracie's voice came quiet from across the table. "Twenty-three forty-five hours. Yesterday."
Emilie slammed her palms on the table and let out a rough, frustrated sigh before sinking back into her chair. "Goddammit. Now what!?"
Kaeya kept his voice low and level, though the edge in it was clear. "Now we wait. With any luck The Capitolium's listening posts will pick up another transmission. We can't chase shadows without hard intel."
Silence stretched between them.
The mission had succeeded in one sense—the factory was gone, the shaft sealed. Dozens of potential warheads had been denied completion.
But that victory felt thin.
Somewhere out there, a live Khaenri'ahn nuclear warhead still existed.
Worse—an armed Abyss MIRV had vanished.
Destination: unknown.
Possession: unknown.
Intent: unknown.
The only ones who knew the answers were the Khaenri'ahns.
And they weren't talking.