Page 10 of Controlled Drift
Another voice came from the front.Older.Controlled.“We’ll verify on the ground.”
Not who you are, Niko thought.What you’re worth.
Niko inclined his head.“Of course.”
The restraint at his wrist was adjusted again—too tight, a fraction closer to pain.A reminder.He didn’t flinch.Flinching suggested limits.
The aircraft banked, lights of the city bleeding through cloud cover below.Jakarta sprawled beneath them—uncontained, electric, alive in a way that felt utterly indifferent to what was happening above it.Somewhere down there, fuel trucks were already moving, ground crew assembling with quiet efficiency.
A handoff.
Niko cataloged everything.Who spoke.Who didn’t.Who deferred without being told.He learned a little more with every second that passed.
They weren’t Directorate soldiers.
They were contractors.
Good ones.
One of the younger men shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking to the instruments.“Traffic’s heavier than expected.”
The pilot didn’t respond immediately.He was focused on approach vectors, voice low as he spoke to the tower.When he did answer, it was with irritation.“We’re slotted.Stick to protocol.”
Niko listened.
Then he felt it.
A change—not inside the cabin this time, but above them.The air moved differently, displaced by something fast and deliberate.One of the pilots swore under his breath.
“What the hell—”
Niko lifted his gaze instinctively as the aircraft shuddered slightly, not from turbulence, but from proximity.Through the small window, he caught a glimpse of it—a sleek shadow lifting above them, angling impossibly close before climbing hard.
The maneuver was flawless.
Risky.
Beautiful.
“Jesus,” one of the pilots breathed.“Did you see that?”
The other let out a low whistle.“Whoever that is, they’ve got nerve.”
“And skill,” the first added grudgingly.“And what fucking aircraft was that?With that climb—no transponder, no broadcast.Ghosted right through controlled airspace.”
Niko’s pulse kicked, sharp and sudden.
He knew that flying.
Not the aircraft—the hand on it.The way the climb cut through layers that should have been crowded.The confidence of someone who trusted timing more than clearance.
Ethan.
The name hit him harder than the restraints ever could.
Fear slid in then, quiet and insidious—not for himself, but for what would happen if Black Tide came for him and walked into the same fire.If Ethan were here, flying that close, then Kael would not be far behind.
The aircraft steadied as they lined up for landing.The moment already passed, but the tension lingered like static.
