"Sounds like a plan," Zola said in response to Ariella's suggestion. With the dogfight and ensuing landing on the submarine carrier having previously occupied her mind, Zola had completely forgotten about her hunger. The last thing she had eaten was the breakfast offered at RAF Lossiemouth, and that had hardly been filling. She just hoped that whatever food that was on offer in the canteen was not too freeze-dried. A few days of eating those kind of foods, she could handle, but she could not imagine having to live on them for weeks or even months.

Just then, another pilot spoke up. Zola did not recognize him, but he seemed polite and friendly enough. "Sure!" She said with a nod. "More the merrier, yeah?"

Figuring that it would be more useful for Everett to know the other pilots, seeing as how he was the one flying the plane, Zola excused herself and walked back to her bunk. Her pilot was still reading through the tablet as if it were some best-selling novel and that simply was not going to do. She knew that if he had his way, that would be all that he did until he had finished reading through every scrap of information on the tablet, or at least until their next mission. Zola plucked the tablet from Everett's hands with a mischievous grin. "Oi, we're going to the canteen to get some food. You should join us." She said.

"I'll be the one to decide that," Everett replied with a scowl and snatched his tablet back. "You go on ahead. I'll catch up with you later. I want to know this carrier as well as I can."

"You can do that later," Zola said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "We should get to know our squadron first."

"I said I'll join you all later, not that I won't join you at all." Everett said and looked up above the tablet. "We don't have to do everything together, we're not symbiotically linked."

Zola let out a huff and placed her hands on her hips. "Fine, but I'm coming back to drag you out if I don't see you there in half-an-hour." She said, as if she were disciplining a child.

"You do that," Everett replied in a mumble, his attention already shifted back to the tablet.

***

There was another member of the squadron who had spoken up earlier, asking about news of the world. That was the pilot Everett had been most keen on getting to know; as far as he knew, they were the only two who came from the South-East Asian region. Singapore and Indonesia had their differences in the past, but right now, Everett was just happy for there to be someone from the same region as he was. He reached into the storage compartment, pulled out his bag and rummaged around the inside, eventually pulling out a yellowed and crumpled newspaper from months ago.

"Hey, Indonesian," He called out. "I got sent this a few months back. My family knew some people who could get mail across the frontlines." Everett did not know about the other frontline regions, but he knew that there smuggling was a booming industry along the UNWO-UN lines between Russia and China. It was expensive, risky and sometimes even deadly, but for the right price, you could find someone willing to take whatever you wanted anywhere in the world. The newspaper had cost his family almost a month's worth of wages, and it was no surprise that it was the first and last of its kind Everett received. "Singaporean paper, but there's some things about Indonesia in it. Months old news, but its something, eh?"

Everett passed the paper to the Indonesian pilot with as friendly a look on his face as he could muster. "Everett Yang." He introduced himself.