The five hour trip from Oured Bay to the Ceres Ocean went by in near silence - total silence from Natasha. The Belkans had to sometimes swivel their heads to make sure she was still even there. She was deep in thought as she flew at a leisurely Mach 1 with the rest of the squadron(s). Her thoughts of course centered around the events of the past few hours - why were we ambushed? Why were their Yukes and Estovakians above Oured? Why was the city almost nuked? How did the Belkans have such perfect timing? Did Romeo land safely? Are they getting him a new aircraft? Five hours of flight time later, she still hadn't come to a conclusion. As they neared their new base, Solo Island, she had the distinct feeling that they would be stationed there for a while. Initial impressions of the base told her that this was no bad thing. Soon the go for landing came out from the tower, and Natasha gained one more question. Who is this Papillon, she thought, looking over at the damaged futuristic aircraft making its approach, and how did she get...fifty-five kills in a single mission?! Natasha took her eyes and thoughts off of Papillon so she could land herself.
Touching down the lightly damaged MiG-23 Flogger with little drama, Natasha slowed her plane and was soon parked next to Border Boy's Phantom. Having landed after the Phantom, by the time she climbed out of her aircraft and onto the tarmac she only saw "Papillon" being wheeled away on a stretcher and crewmen running around the now-foamed fighter jet. Charles and Erika were facing the aircraft as well, and as Natasha walked behind them she briefly overhead their conversation about Romeo. So do I, she thought. Directed by the ground crews towards the building where briefing room was, she walked along the halls until she found it. Rather than walking into the briefing room before anyone else, she found a window overlooking the runway in the hallway next to it and stood at it with her hands clasped together behind her back, waiting to see the rest of her squadron mates land and musing about her own experience. After five hours of thinking there was still more to be done, but at least the most important subjects had been thoroughly covered.
As well as my antique MiG has treated me, it would be nice to get an upgrade, she thought to herself. Her inner monologue of thoughts was much more vocal than she had been on the radio, as was always the case with her. She would have to get out of her flight suit and into civvies before she began to open up outwardly, and after the events of today she would be relieved when that happened.
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