PROJECT: CAYRO

Cayro Bracton:

August 28, 2025

12:47 CST

Sky-Car 07

San Antonio, Tx. Airport

After nearly half a day of training with Star yesterday, I found myself in the co-pilot seat, scanning the horizon as we flew around the Autumn. We were on approach to the San Antonio airport, where we were set to meet the Texas governor and pick up Dr. Zaraki. My thoughts drifted back to the evening before, when Star and I had landed. The Captain had dragged us into a briefing that stretched on for nearly an hour and a half.

The briefing was a grim reminder of the unrest tearing through the U.S. Several states were fed up with the federal government's overreach, with tensions boiling over after a Supreme Court ruling that favored the federal government against the state of Iowa. The ruling, which effectively stripped states of their ability to enact their own gun laws, had sparked outrage. Riots and protests had erupted, with many states pushing to secede from the Union to preserve their autonomy. Texas, as always, led the charge, setting the stage for separation. The Captain explained that the seceding states would likely fall under NATO’s protection, maintaining ties with what remained of the United States while forming new alliances. It all sounded like a convoluted mess, and honestly, I was just glad I didn’t have to deal with it directly.

Surprisingly, the Captain had allowed me to accompany Star on this mission, even though this meeting was crucial. Maybe he figured I’d be more trouble than I was worth if left to my own devices on the ground, or perhaps he trusted me to handle myself better in the air. Either way, I was relieved. Politics had never been my thing, and the idea of being stuck in a room full of tense negotiations made my skin crawl. Being in the skycar with Star was far more appealing, even if I was still trying to find my footing in this topsy-turvy new life. Star was my anchor, the only constant in this whirlwind, and being near her made everything feel a little more manageable.

I stole a glance at her. Star was in her element, eyes locked on the horizon, hands steady on the controls. She was a Valkyrie, a warrior goddess of the skies, ready to face whatever came her way with unwavering focus. Her beauty was almost overwhelming, washing over me like waves against a shore. Her straight brown hair, with its striking streak of lilac, framed her pale, smooth skin perfectly. The shirt she wore hugged her curves, revealing a toned yet feminine figure that caught me off guard. She usually wore baggy clothes that hid her shape. Did she wear this for me? The thought was both thrilling and distracting. I found it hard to keep my eyes off her, my mind wandering to places it shouldn’t.

What was it about her that drew me in so powerfully? I had never felt this way about anyone before, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying. I closed my eyes briefly, trying to clear my thoughts, but instead, the primal presence in my mind grinned, feeding me images of her, naked and vulnerable in my imagination.

“Cayro, are you okay?” Star’s voice cut through the fog of my thoughts, grounding me back to reality.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about something,” I replied, shifting uncomfortably in my seat, trying to hide the flush creeping up my neck.

“What were you thinking about?” she asked, her tone curious but slightly distant.

“Uh… Nothing important,” I lied, hoping she wouldn’t press further.

“Well, if that’s the case, can you please focus on our mission?” she instructed softly, though there was an edge to her voice.

“Yeah, sorry… Um, is there anything we should be concerned about?” I asked, eager to shift the conversation away from my wandering thoughts.

“Just keep an eye out for any suspicious activity,” she explained, her eyes scanning the horizon. We were circling above the Autumn, maintaining our patrol.

“All right,” I responded, trying to match her focus.

But something was off. Star wasn’t as open or friendly as she had been yesterday. The warmth that had sparked between us seemed to have cooled, replaced by a more distant, businesslike demeanor. Her responses were clipped, almost as if she was putting up a wall. It stung, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I had done something wrong. I was about to ask her if she was okay with me being her co-pilot when the radar suddenly beeped, pulling my attention to the screen. Two U.S. RQ-4 Global Hawks were inbound, closing in from ten miles northwest.

“Captain, you have two RQ-4 Global Hawks inbound ten miles northwest of us,” Star reported over the radio, her voice steady and professional.

“We’re tracking them now. Keep an eye on them; they’re just reconnaissance drones. Hopefully, the military isn’t dumb enough to try anything else,” the Captain responded, his tone calm but cautious.

“Sir, do you want me to cut them off?” Star asked, her readiness to act evident.

“No, just hold your position and let them come to us,” he ordered, keeping the situation under control.

The drones made several wide passes over the Autumn, maintaining a cautious distance. The airport’s radio chatter buzzed with requests for the drones’ intentions. Eventually, the pilots responded, confirming that they were on a surveillance mission to observe the SAF Autumn. It was clear the U.S. military knew exactly what we were doing.

The hours dragged on, each pass of the drones adding to the tension in the air. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the Captain ordered us to land. Once we were back in the hangar, I found myself face to face with Star’s father.

Doctor H. M. Zaraki was an imposing figure, standing well over six feet tall, with salt-and-pepper dark brown hair cut in a sharp military high and tight. His sun-kissed skin bore the lines of age and experience, while a matching beard framed his strong jawline. I could immediately see the resemblance between him and Star—the same determined expression, the same piercing gaze. But it was his eyes that struck me—they were a strange shade of brown, almost as if they weren’t his natural color.

He towered over me, his broad shoulders and muscular frame filling the space. Dressed in a Hawaiian shirt that clung to his powerful build, tucked into loose-fitting black cargo pants, and finished off with desert sand combat boots, he looked like he could have stepped straight out of a Marine Corps recruitment poster. The M1911 .45 ACP pistol strapped to his belt, emblazoned with the U.S. Marine emblem, only confirmed my suspicions. This was a man who had seen his share of battle—a man who demanded respect.

Meeting Star’s father in the flesh, the weight of reality hit me like a ton of bricks. Any hope I had of pursuing a relationship with her beyond friendship seemed to evaporate in an instant. How could I even think of getting close to her with a man like this watching over her?

“It’s good to see you again, Doctor,” the Captain greeted, his voice warm as he approached from behind me.

“It’s been a long time, old friend,” the Doctor replied, his tone carrying a mix of nostalgia and authority. “By the way, just call me Doc.”

“All right, well, welcome back home, Doc,” the Captain said, his smile evident in his voice.

“It’s good to be back, Captain. So how has my little girl fared for the last year and a half?” Doc asked, turning his attention toward Star.

Star looked at her father, her posture stiff as she bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment.

“Don’t bow at me, sweetheart; come give me a hug,” he requested, his voice bright with cheer.

She walked up to him, and he wrapped his arms around her, but she didn’t return the embrace. Her arms remained at her sides, and her face was expressionless.

“Welcome back, father. It is good to see you again,” she said in a flat, almost lifeless voice.

Doc’s eyes flicked over her shoulder, locking onto me with an intensity that made me feel like he was assessing every inch of me. Releasing Star, he stepped toward me, his gaze unwavering.

“Is this who I think it is, Andrew?” he asked, casually tossing aside the Captain’s rank as if it were a trivial formality.

“Sure is, Doc,” the Captain confirmed.

“So, this is what became of the long-lost son of the late Captain Bracton, huh?” Doc remarked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked me over. “Well, I should take that back. You were never lost; you were just… hidden. It is good to see you again, young Cayro.”

His words made me blink in surprise. Glad to see me… again? I didn’t recall ever meeting this man, and yet he remembered me?

“Have we met before, Sir?” I asked, my confusion evident in my voice.

“Yes, we have, young Cayro. I was with your father when you were born eighteen years ago. He was such a happy man back then,” Doc explained, a hint of a smile touching his lips as he spoke of my father.

“You knew my father?” I asked, even though the answer was obvious. Of course, he knew my father—this man was part of the team that developed the project. But hearing it made it feel more real, more personal.

“Sure did. He and I went way back. I think even before he knew Andrew. It was a real shame he was killed in action all those years ago. The U.S. might not be in the state it’s in now because of him,” Doc replied, his voice tinged with a somber note.

His last statement threw me off. “How does my father have anything to do with the current affairs going on in the country?” I asked, unable to mask my confusion.

“Don’t worry about it, young Cayro. I’ll explain later when time permits,” he said, dismissing my question for now. He turned back to the Captain, leaving me standing there, my thoughts spinning in a whirlwind of questions.

“So, Andrew, I haven’t found the C Drive, but like I said over my transmission, I believe I know where to locate it. We’ll need to set a course for Washington state,” Doc said, shifting the conversation.

“No need, Doc,” the Captain replied, pulling the device from his pocket with a slight smirk.

“Where the hell did you find it?” Doc exclaimed, his shock evident.

The Captain glanced at me. “We didn’t find it. It was given to us by a very eager messenger who nearly died getting it to us,” he explained, his tone clipped, still carrying the weight of his frustration over the way I had handled things.

I felt my face flush with embarrassment. The Captain was still upset with me, and it showed.

“Ah, I see,” Doc said softly, nodding. “Why doesn’t that surprise me one bit? Well, let’s get the hell out of North America and get started with the augmentations.”

Before I could react, Star tugged on my shirt, pulling me away from the two men. Her grip was firm, almost desperate. She grabbed my hand, leading me out of the hangar with a sense of urgency, ignoring her father’s protest as we left. I could hear her growling under her breath, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine as she led me to an elevator. She punched the down button with a force that made the panel shake, her scowl deepening as she stared at the doors, as if they had personally offended her. Something was clearly wrong, and I had no idea what had caused her anger.

When the doors finally slid open, she dragged me inside with her, jabbing the button for the lowest level with the same force. The elevator began its descent, the silence between us heavy and oppressive. I stood there, holding her hand, but the tension rolling off her in waves was almost palpable. Normally, when Star was angry, she would shout and growl, letting everyone know exactly what had upset her. But this was different. This was a quiet, simmering rage that made the air around us feel charged, and it left me feeling helpless and unsure of what to say or do.