Moldir taps a code into the communicator before putting it back in her pocket.
Sergeant White Gloves: Lieutenant.
Against the howling wind, Moldir tucks her curls behind her ears and turns toward the voice.
Moldir: What is it, Sergeant?
Sergeant White Gloves: With all due respect, what are we doing here?
Her subordinate poses a simple but tough question.
Her troops are relaxed, warming themselves around their fires. Yet each one would be ready the moment she gives the word.
Moldir: We're on standby.
It's a question Moldir can't answer, so she turns away.
She'll have to feign determination for now.
Sergeant White Gloves: Standby for what?
Moldir: To capture any Foundation soldiers that make it to the shore.
Sergeant White Gloves: Then what about the ones we already captured? Why are we only holding the run-of-the-mill seaman? The other two could have been useful, but we just ...
The sergeant stops, his eyes flicking toward the clinic, where Ulrich and his guard just departed.
Moldir: Those two? Hardly. What can an Awakened researcher and a rookie guard do in Antarctica? Holding them would be a waste of resources.
She directs her stare out into the white distance.
Moldir: Where's Danilov? Tell him to meet me at the helicopter.
The order comes quick, as do her steps out and away.
Captain Danilov takes a long and deep sip of stew, letting the warmth linger on his tongue, making it all the worse when he is suddenly tapped on the shoulder.
Aircraft Captain: Ah! Stop sneaking up on me like that!
Sergeant White Gloves: Haha, gotcha! Some things never change, huh? Still as jumpy as you were when you were a kid.
Aircraft Captain: Come on. Cut it out. I'm a captain now, you know. Not some kid.
He sets down the can reluctantly and rises to his feet.
Aircraft Captain: What do you want? Did the lieutenant send you?
Sergeant White Gloves: Yep. She wants you over at Canis Minor.
As they pass each other, Captain Danilov catches a muttered complaint.
Sergeant White Gloves: Lucky you, getting to stretch your legs while the rest of us have to sit here idling away the hours.
Aircraft Captain: sigh Guess that's how it is these days. Everything still seems foggy.
He takes two steps outward, and the sergeant matches him stride for stride.
Sergeant White Gloves: Tell me about it. I thought Brazil was tough, but this? This is worse.
Sergeant White Gloves: Sometimes, it takes more courage to stick to a choice than to make one. I think someone might be struggling with that.
Aircraft Captain: You should know better than to doubt our leadership, White Gloves.
The sergeant stops.
Sergeant White Gloves: Sure, but what if they start doubting each other? What if the admiral's steering us one way and the lieutenant another?
Sergeant White Gloves: You saw how the lieutenant let that Foundation researcher go. Didn't that bother you?
Aircraft Captain: ...
Silence lingers as the captain finds himself watching snowflakes settle on his boots.
At last, he forces himself forward.
Aircraft Captain: I trust them both. No matter what.
The captain closes his maintenance manual, finding himself in search of the least technical way to explain the helicopter's malfunction.
Aircraft Captain: A yaw rate issue might just be a pedal problem, you see.
Aircraft Captain: In this case, either the rudder pedal has loosened, which is affecting the responsiveness of the tail rotor, or the tail blades were damaged by the impact.
Moldir: I see. Let me take a look.
She nods and climbs into the cockpit.
From her tool set, she draws out a small, arcane item.
Moldir: Что было, то и будет.
A stream of glimmering powder flows from her tweezers into the detached knob.
Beads of sweat form and then evaporate into the cold air.
Moldir: This is more complicated than I thought.
As the arcane skill fails to activate, she shakes her head and puts away the tool.
Aircraft Captain: I would be surprised if you managed to fix it in one go. Aircraft can be tricky.
Aircraft Captain: Took me two full years back at the Academy to pass "Theories of Flight Mechanics," and even longer to really get the hang of it.
Moldir: ...
She studies Captain Danilov for a moment before offering a rare smile.
Moldir: chuckle I remember. Your teacher called me in three times because of the "extreme frustration and concern about your grades."
Aircraft Captain: Haha ... I'm just glad they didn't call Father. That would've been the end of me.
Aircraft Captain: You know, I don't see you using your arcane skill much these days.
Moldir: Well, there's not much use for it, really.
Moldir: Bullets and medicine are a thousand times more useful on the battlefield.
Detecting the rare and likely unintentional emotion in her tone, the captain hesitates.
Aircraft Captain: Oh, I didn't mean it like that, sorry. Do you want some space?
Moldir: No, it's fine. You're fine.
Moldir: We just need to get this helicopter fixed as soon as possible. Can you run another check?
Moldir: There was a blockage in the system that stopped my arcane energy from flowing through. Maybe the issue isn't as simple as just the pedal or blade.
Aircraft Captain: Got it. I'll take another look.
The lieutenant exhales softly.
Moldir: That blockage. I just couldn't push past it.
Moldir: Did I follow the wrong circuit?
Moldir: Or did I just do the whole thing wrong?
A silence lingers after her words, forcing the captain to shift position.
Aircraft Captain: I wouldn't overthink it if I were you, and stop underestimating your arcane skill. It's saved us more times than I can count—frozen prosthetics, broken casts, ripped tents.
Aircraft Captain: Hell, you've been fixing our guns since we were kids.
Aircraft Captain: There's nothing wrong with your power. We all appreciate it a lot more than you think.
Moldir: ...
He wedges his bulk beneath the cramped seat, flashlight in hand, inspecting each wire and following it with his fingers.
Aircraft Captain: Did you get the adoption form when you were little too, Lieutenant?
Moldir: Hm? You mean the ...
Aircraft Captain: Yeah. Mine came after my parents died in 1999. Even now, I still don't know what happened that day.
His tone turns light, as if he's telling a joke.
Aircraft Captain: When they brought me the death notice, they handed me an adoption form along with it. It was from Admiral Igor.
Aircraft Captain: At first, I hated the idea. I didn't want anyone to take my father's place.
Moldir: But you signed it; otherwise, you wouldn't be here.
Aircraft Captain: I did. Because I needed to know what my parents gave their lives for, and the man they fought beside.
"We are alike."
Moldir keeps that thought unspoken, turning her eyes down to her repair tools.
Aircraft Captain: I've never regretted it. I'm proud of where I am, proud of everyone in this army.
Aircraft Captain: Not because we're the best soldiers Zeno's ever had. I mean, I'm sure they definitely don't think that now.
Aircraft Captain: No, I'm proud because we're more than just an army.
The captain's head disappears entirely beneath the seat, his voice coming through muffled and distant.
Aircraft Captain: We're a family.
Aircraft Captain: We "Storm" orphans grew up together, trained together, fought side by side. We trust each other like we trust ourselves, hell, maybe even more so.
He extracts himself from the cockpit, grease smeared across his face.
Under her flickering gaze, Danilov drops his voice.
Aircraft Captain: I know Father hasn't told us everything. But maybe that's for the best. The less everyone knows about his plan, the better.
Aircraft Captain: But no matter what, I will follow you and the admiral to the very end, whether it's flying a fighter into the Foundation headquarters or waiting here until the spring.
Aircraft Captain: I believe in him. I believe that he can take us home.
Aircraft Captain: And I believe in you, sister.
Moldir: ...!
He salutes solemnly—proudly, but the smears of engine oil on his nose take all the seriousness from the moment.
A long-unfamiliar tightness rises in Moldir's throat.
Moldir: Thank you, Captain Danilov.
Moldir: Our current mission is to wait here.
She blinks, breathes deep, and then exhales a misty stream into the air.
Moldir: Those are our orders. Let's be sure we see them through.
