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>>: December 23ed, 2095, Old Russia

Snow...

That was all Amber could see. Snow on the empty, collapsed skyscrapers of Moscow. Snow on the old, abandoned cars. Snow on the streets, and covering the metro exits. Snow on the grave sight of millions.

She stood squarely at the intersection of two streets, looking down both ends through the narrow gaze of her gas mask, and felt a haunting feeling that she didn't belong here. The only source of sound was her own breathing, and the occasional whisper of wind.

She briefly wondered what it was like. Being alive here before the bombs fell... or as they fell...

Amber visibly shuddered under her heavy coat and in her boots. The thought of being alive when the bombs fell made her scared. Just looking up to see your demise, not being able to do anything but cry as an unfeeling weapon of war simply reduced her body to nothing more than atoms. She shook her head, trying to get this negative line of thought out of her head.

But she made the mistake of turning her head, and right on the distance wall... she could make out an outline of shape... a shape her age...a shape holding a small balloon...

“Amber!?" The voice of an older man snapped her out of her thoughts. She turns to her right to see an older man in his 70s. His hair as white as the snow poking out the edges of his own gas mask. Despite his age, he was tall and fit. Amber smiles at her grandfather and ran up to him, and nearly jumped into his arms. He caught her and swung her around in his embrace.

“Hey, grandpa!" Amber giggles. When the embrace broke, she looked up at her guardian.

“Did you find the parts you need?" She asked. Her grandfather smiles and pulls out some electronics from his pocket.

“Indeed I did little one" he stated, and although she couldn't see it, she could feel his smile. She couldn't help but smile back.

“Dose that mean you have everything now!?" She asked, excitement creeping into her voice. Her grandfather laughed.

“So easily excited! Yes, that means I have everything. I can finally finish what I started" he said, starting to walk south, out of the city.

“Come now! We are losing daylight!" He said gleefully. Amber smile grew as she followed... but she soon stopped and felt her smile disappeare. Something was off, wrong, as if out of place. She turned around to the shadow of the figure...

The shadowed figure burned into the building... was gone...

She turns back to her walking grandfather and runs to his side. Her heart racing. She didn't want to come back to this ghost city ever again...

———————————————————————————————————

It didn't take them long to get to the outskirts of the old Russian capital. Soon enough, buildings grew more scarce and damaged, until it was rare to see a house still standing. At this point, the sun was beginning to set, and clouds bringing more snow with them soon moved in to blanket the old world once again.

“Almost there!" Amber's grandfather called out, just as a building began to appear just over the hill.

Amber knew the building well. According to her grandfather, this building was a hangar, hangar 3 to be exact, and was part of the Moscow airport. In fact, she could make out the tower from here too! She smiles, the tower was her favorite place to be in, and she loved to play in the cockpits of the abandoned 737s on the runway.

Her grandfather and Amber has lived here for as long as she has lived, 15 years. And yet, she has only been in Hanger 3 only once. It was her grandfather's workshop, and for the past five years, her grandfather was working on something secret. She would ask him what it was, but she would be met with 'it's a surprise!' from him. She would smile and be patient, but secretly she didn't want to wait any longer. But now, it looks like she didn't have to, with her grandfather carrying the final piece to his puzzle.

Soon enough they made it to Hanger 1, the hangar they actually called home. The living space in the hangar was huge, with the wreak of a 737 inside. Inside of the 737 was their beds and storage. Her grandfather made it so the plane could be used to hide and live in incase of bad storms, or worse, raiders.

She eagerly ran up to the aircraft she called home and jumped onto the collapsed wing, sitting down on it with her legs not even touching the concrete floor. Her grandfather sat at a rough looking fireplace right at the wing, and lit it with what little wood they had left.

“Want me to go get more wood?" Amber asks, finally taking off her gas mask. Her grandfather, doing the same, simply smiles.

“Not today, if all goes to plan, we won't need any more wood!" He answered. Amber raises an eyebrow, what did he mean by that? He then looked up at her.

“Do you remember what you told me, when I asked you what you wanted to become when you got older?" He asked. Amber nodded.

“Yes! I said I wanted to be like you!" She said. Her grandfather smiles sweetly.

“And you have been a good girl by reading those books I gave you! By the time your 18, you might be as good as me" He said. Amber became confused.

“'As good as you?'... but I never flew before..." she said “you said you were a very good pilot... you said you helped others with their planes..."

“Indeed I did!" Her grandfather started “I was a lieutenant in the Russian Air Force, and I do miss those days" his smile grows “but here I am with my granddaughter, passing along my knowledge to you, someone so young yet so eger to learn!" He then stands and grabs his hand in hers.

“And I think it's time..." he finished. Now Amber was really confused.

“Time for what, grandpa?" She asked. He smiles and picks her up off the wing and sets her down.

“Time for you to know what's in Hanger 3..." her grandfather stated. He turns around and walked to the exit. Amber quickly followed him, her own curiosity peaked. She puts her gas mask back on and followed him out into the snow covered airport, walking by his side.

“Pop quiz!" Her grandfather chimes “what is the stick in between your legs called?"

“The yolk" she answered.

“What is the correct way to accelerate your aircraft to flights speed?" He asked.

“Find even ground and throttle up slowly until you reach at least 75-100 kph then pitch the nose up" she shot at him.

“What are the control surfaces on the wings and tail and what do they do?" He fired back.

“Ailerons on the wings, they cause the plane to roll. Elevators on the tail cause the plane to go up and down. And the rudder causes the plane to turn left or right!" She answered proudly.

“Your engine is overheating, what do you do?" He shot again.

“Pump a Water/Methanol mix into the engine to cool it down!"

“You have stalled and you are falling, what do you do?"

“Um... stay calm and pitch the nose down, get airspeed and correct the flight path!"

“What if you're in a flat half-spin? What then?"

“Again, stay calm and kick left rudder to level the wings, gain airspeed and correct the flight path!" She claimed proudly. Her grandfather laughed, and laughed he did. His bellowing howls seemed to echo off the airstrip itself. Amber smiles with pride, she passed his test.

“Good, good! You are most certainly ready!" He said with a beaming smile under his mask. As they approached the large hangar door controls for hangar 3, Amber cocked her head to the side.

“Ready for what, Grandpa?" She asked. Her grandfather pulled a key from his pocket and pushed it into a key hole. He twisted it to the right and pressed four buttons on a keypad. He then turns to her, joy in his eyes.

“This!" He answered, before clicking a green button.

The large, old hangar doors of Hangar 3 then began to part for the first time in nearly 60 years, rust on metal causing a loud screaming sound of tension from the metal door. Dust and rust began to fall off the doors as they slid apart, the doors shaking slightly as pulled apart. On the other side however, made her gasp. In the old, rusty hangar, was an aircraft, and she knew it from her grandfather's stories from before the war... before everything died.

The aircraft was a Russian Su-37 Terminator.

The old Russian fighter stood proudly on its mismatched landing gear, almost all the wheels flat. The wings, tail, and cockpit barely had any rust. On the nose was a perfectly fitting, oddly clean nose cone. Under the cockpit however, something caught here eye. It was fresh painted letters. She moved to get a better look at the side

Under the cockpit, it read 'Red Dragon' in bold red text with the head of a dragon spewing flames from its maw. Amber gasps.

“Amazing... Isn't she?" Her grandfather said, walking under the wing and slapping the fuselage a couple times with his palm.

“I... It's... real? It can fly?" Amber asked. Her dream of being a pilot actually within her grasp. All those nights learning to read, just to understand the manuals. Listening to her grandfather with envy as he recounted his stories that came from about the clouds. With this and her grandfather's guidance, she could join them. She could be a pilot!

“Oh she can fly alright... the Su-37" he rounded around the tail, behind the powerful twin engines that gave the metal beast its power. “A proof of concept back then... now it's the only thing within at least 1,000 kilometers that can fly" He then turns to Amber as he walked around the nose, compleating his circle around the aircraft.

“And she's all yours"

———————————————————————————————————

>>October 14th, 2111, Old American Nimitz Class Aircraft Carrier “Ohio"

SLAM

SLAM

SLAM

Amber jolted awake in her small bed and quickly sat up, her eyes wide and aware. She then lets a simple groan excapes her lips as she fell back into her olive green bed.

'Damn night crew...' she thought bitterly, having been woken up for the third time today by noises outside her quarters. She sighs and simply stares at the rusted ceiling of her room, which her eyes then drifted to the bolted and riveted bulkhead with the hatch to the hall outside. Her head soon drifted to the right to a metal desk with an uncomfortable looking wooden chair. She sighs again and throws the sheets off herself, and stands to stretch.

She was a little under six feet tall, maybe 5" 8'. Her body was thin and curved and well maintained, she had to be fit for the work she did. Her black, shoulder length hair fell in front of her blue eyes as she stretched on the tips of her toes. She lets a moan escape her lips as she felt her green shirt raise up to reveal her slim stomach. She finally released the stretch, landing on her bare feet. She was thankfull of the flexibility of her shorts as she stretched her legs next, followed by her arms and back. Despite the privilege of sleeping on a bed, it sometimes didn't feel much better than the cold metal floor.

She soon just stood there, and began to think. It has been 16 years since that memory in her dream, why dose she keep coming up? Granted, it was probably one of the best times in her life, she remembers sitting in the cockpit in her grandfather's lap, learning about the aircraft piece by piece. Her first ever aircraft.

Ever since then, she has a new aircraft, an old F-22 Raptor from the old Americas. She didn't have the Su-37 Terminator anymore unfortunately...

She burned the aircraft with her grandfather in it when she was 19 for his funeral... it's... how he would have wanted it to be.

She sighs and sits at the desk in the uncomfortable chair and banished the thoughts that came with her grandfather's death. Altogether though, dying in your sleep is probably the best way to go in this post-apocalyptic shit show. Out in this new world, you can be shot, stabbed, raped, slaved, sold, incinerated, ripped apart, and turned to goo by radiation... just to name a happy few. She growled to herself.

'Such happy thoughts, Amber... really! Please continue!' She scolded herself in thought. She leans back in her chair and sighs, looking back up at the rusty ceiling. Her eyes following the lines of bolts holding this floating city of a ship together. She looks back down at the desk, and picked up an old MP3 Player she picked up back in Moscow, and put on the black headphones. She wasn't going back to sleep, might as well listen to music. She clicked play, and a favorite song of hers started.

“Addressing those beneath from high above"

“Convincing his belief for what you love"

“Baiting every hook with filthy lies"

“Another charlatan to idolize"

The song started with its lyrics, and she stood up to throw on her boots. She turns to the hatch and slams the wheel to the left, and pushed the door open.

“Is this suppression just in my mind? (just in my mind?)"

“No more questions, get back in line! (just get back in line!)"

Amber looks to her left, then right. No one else was in the hall. Why would they? It's 3:00 in the morning and most are asleep by now. She shrugged, closed the hatch behind her, and began to walk down the hall to the hangar of the ship.

“You pay with your life"

“The duller the knife, the longer it takes (the longer it takes)"

“But now it's your turn"

“The ashes will burn, and wither away"

“Leaving your bones out on the stones, picking them clean (picking them clean)"

“And carving the truth, while harvesting you to feed the machine (to feed the machine)"

It didn't take her long to make it to the hangar. The Aircraft carrier she was in belonged to the United Pacific States, an amalgamation of the old Americas, parts of Russia, China, and Japan. After the war that ended the world, many civilians and military personnel of these nations bounded together to survive the world they had created.

There were other factions other than the United Pacific States. There was also the United England, the States of Africa, The South Amarican Coalition, and an assortment of pirate factions. They were all in an uneasy relationship, all just trying to stay out of each other's way, afraid of another war that humanity couldn't survive.

“The gears forever turn to grind the mice"

That doesn't mean there hasn't been conflict however. There has always been small fights along everyone's borders, all for land and precious resources. These resources ranged from old and useful technology, to farmland and water, to the last remaining oil fields in the Middle East, Atlantic, and Pacific. She snapped out of her thoughts, and looked around for her F-22.

“Will you become the fuel for sacrifice?"

“Power absolutely all for show"

“The piper blows his flute and off you go"

Amber smiles to herself, finally finding her aircraft near the large lift to the flight deck.

The F-22 Raptor were, at the time, the top 6th generation aircraft. Advanced sensor packages, large payloads, stealth technology. What wasn't to love? However, her F-22 was slightly different.The deck crew and her spent a whole week implementing elements of the F-35 aircraft's engine system into the F-22, cutting its speed by a small margin, but it allowed her aircraft to hover now.

“Is this obsession behind your eyes? (behind your eyes?)"

“No more questions, get back in line! (just get back in line!)"

Amber pulled up one of the service ladders and places it against the cockpit of her craft. With one foot and arm at a time, she crawled up and into the cockpit of the modified F-22, and nearly relaxed instantly.

“You pay with your-

She paused her music and pulled her headphones down, wanting to hear the silence of the empty hangar bay for a moment. The silence was so palpable that a pin drop wouldn't just be heard, but amplified by the echoing walls. She takes a moment and looks around her cockpit, and in her eyes it was perfect. You can just sit in one place in the seat of the aircraft and comfortably touch the controls. She smiles to herself, and placed her back to the seat.

She rested her right arm on the surface next to her, and her hand gently wrapped around the control stick. Her left arm dose the same, her hand wrapping around the throttle control. She lays her head back, closed her eyes, and smiles.

In her imagination, her hand slowly pushed the throttle forward and she pulled back on the stick. Even though she wasn't moving, she could still feel the force of the engines pushing her back into her seat, and the feeling of her stomach dropping out from under her.

She rolled her wrist to the right, and her left foot gently pressed down on a pedal. The action would have caused her aircraft to roll and spin. In her imagination, she was flying in the blue skies above the sea.

On the ground, she was quite and was cautious, a girl that liked her privacy and music more than meeting a guy, or even another girl. On the ground, she felt slow, sluggish and vulnerable to the irradiated world her ancestors created for her.

In the skies however? In the skies she was a different girl. In the skies he felt strong and courageous, in the skies, she felt like nothing could ever touch her. In the skies she wasn't sluggish and slow, she was quick, agile, and deadly to anyone who dared threaten her floating home.

“Down here again...?" A voice called just outside her cockpit. Amber jumped in surprise and looked over to her right.

On the deck, next to her Fighter was a man that looked to be in his mid 60s, with thin lips, a strong chin, dull blue eyes, and short graying hair. He wore a formal military uniform from the old nation of the U.S. Navy that had the stripes of a captain on his shoulders and collar.

Amber snapped a salute as quickly as she could “Captain, Sir!"

“As you were Lieutenant..." he said somberly. He sounded quite tired. Amber did as instructed and relaxed a little, laying back in her cockpit again. The captain frowns at her.

“Can't sleep either I suppose?" He asked.

“No sir" she replied. The captain frowns.

“If that's the case and you decide to leave your bunk, what is something you should take with you?" He asked seriously.

“Your Com, Sir?" She responded. What was going on with this line of questions?

“Good... now, where is yours?" He asked. Amber began to panic.

'Oh no' and she began to fumble with her pockets on her shorts. Both were empty of a com device. Oh... she was so dead.

“... Back in my room sir..." she replied. The captain sighs and reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out Amber's com pack, and hands it to her.

“Don't do it again... I have been trying to get a hold of you... get out and get dressed into your flight suit and meet me in the bridge, you have 30 minuets..." and with that, he turns around and walks away.

When he exited and was out of sight, Amber sighed in relief and relaxed. She thought she was going to be throughly disciplined for forgetting her com. Then it dawned on her.

'The captain was looking for me specifically... not my CO or my flight lead... he went straight to me... ME' she thought.

If the captain just bypassed the chain of command to talk to her about a mission, then things were probably about to go from bad to worse...

Or it already has...