The F-2 pilot's craft remained parallel to Valkyrie One, cutting through the sky with the agility of a predator. The sun reflected off its sleek frame, a sharp contrast to the battered world below. For a few moments, there was no movement, just the silent hum of the Stratotanker's engines and the faint ping of radar, both aircraft flying in tandem as though they were old friends reunited.
Thomas and Madel exchanged glances. Both were silent, watching the Japanese fighter in awe.
"What do we do?" Madel asked, her voice steady but tinged with uncertainty.
"We follow," Thomas replied, tapping a few controls on the console to initiate a low-band comm channel.
There was no hesitation, no words of caution—just an innate sense that this was the moment they'd been waiting for. An encounter with the unknown. Not another empty city or an overrun stronghold, but an active military presence. A remnant of the world they had lost.
For the first time in days, Thomas felt a glimmer of hope.
