Natali Lonskaïa
A gentle, cool breeze swept across the runway as we waited for their arrival.
Behind us, the technicians were still busy inspecting the aircraft one last time, and the scent of kerosene lingered in the air.
I finally spotted President Atlas arriving at the airport in his limousine.
Jérémy stood quietly at my side, dressed in a dark navy three-piece suit.
He looked nervous, clearly determined to make a good impression.
Three beads of sweat glistened on his forehead despite the mild weather and the slightly veiled sun.
He kept massaging his left arm, a habit he already had at the hospital.
Yet the medical team had assured me he was in perfect health.
At my side, Vivian stood just as straight and composed as I was, both of us wearing matching black uniforms, arms at our sides, while a line of soldiers waited behind us.
I kept my gaze fixed on Jérémy, cold and impassive.
He cared about this meeting more than anything.
And yet, I could feel his discomfort growing with every passing second.
His gestures betrayed a subtle anxiety, as if he already knew things were slipping out of his control.
Following his request — a promise in exchange for granting part of his technology — he insisted on returning to his barn in France.
He kept repeating that he had to "retrieve certain people," and that "the future of humanity" depended on it, in his own words.
It sounded almost laughable, but I held my thoughts to myself, letting only a faint smirk appear.
President Atlas had just returned from the United Nations General Assembly, where he had been forced to reassure the other nations.
The man who had violated multiple borders — Jérémy Chapi — was officially being held in our country, awaiting trial or possible political asylum.
Unofficially, however, he was the President's guest, under close supervision.
The limousine stopped at the boarding area, and a soldier opened the door for him.
I stepped forward, glancing briefly at Jérémy before giving him a sharp instruction:
"Do not move from here."
Then I walked toward the President, adjusting my black political uniform.
His imposing figure overshadowed the soldier standing beside him.
Once close enough, I saluted him.
"At ease, soldier," he replied calmly.
I noticed a slight smile on his face as he looked past me — perhaps pleased to finally meet the man behind all the commotion.
"You managed to ease tensions during the Assembly," I noted as we walked toward Jérémy.
"You know very well it's only a façade," he answered thoughtfully.
"It simply buys us time — time for nations to prepare for what comes next."
When we reached Jérémy, Vivian stood at attention.
Caught off guard, Jérémy awkwardly extended his hand to greet the President.
To my surprise, President Atlas accepted the gesture and shook his hand with both of his — a sign of respect he rarely offered, reserved only for those he held in high esteem.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, young man. I believe we have much to discuss," the President said in French, ensuring Jérémy understood every word.
"Thank you, truly, for welcoming me into your country," Jérémy replied, bowing his head slightly with respect.
"Well, that's enough talk. We need to head out," Atlas added as he turned toward the aircraft.
I followed him, climbing the steps behind him.
At the door, I glanced back — Jérémy was still standing at the bottom, frozen before the staircase.
"Is there a problem?" the President asked, sensing my hesitation.
"Nothing I can't handle, sir. I'll bring your guest."
I assured him with a nod and stepped out.
I descended briskly and looked at Jérémy, my patience thinning.
"What are you doing? You said you wanted to go to France."
He looked uneasy, eyes fixed on the steps.
"Couldn't I… take a car instead?" he asked timidly.
"You're joking, right? It would take us over a week by road. Don't you want to retrieve whatever is so important to you over there?"
My voice held a growing hint of irritation.
I had no time to indulge his irrational fears.
He whispered, almost embarrassed,
"Let's just say… airplanes and my family don't have a very glorious history."
I remembered then — his family had died in a plane crash.
A detail I had pushed aside, assuming that after traveling through space and crafting advanced technology, such a trauma wouldn't still haunt him.
But the President was already waiting inside; I had no time to waste.
I turned to Vivian.
"Vivian, help our guest board, please."
"On it," she answered.
Vivian walked up to him and gently took his arm.
"Come on, sir, it'll be a short flight," she said with a reassuring smile.
Jérémy blushed slightly at her kindness but didn't resist.
Vivian assisted him up the last steps — it looked more like a half-carry than voluntary movement.
Inside, she stayed beside him, escorting him to the President's private cabin.
I watched them briefly, then proceeded to the cabin myself.
The door closed behind me with a soft click as the plane prepared for takeoff.
While the crew secured everything, I prepared an anti-nausea drink, anticipating Jérémy might feel unwell.
Entering the cabin, I found everyone already seated and strapped in.
Jérémy sat by the window, Vivian beside him, fulfilling her duty.
The President sat across from them, staring outside, lost in thought.
I handed Jérémy the drink.
He took it without question — too nervous to protest — and swallowed it in one gulp.
He sank back into his seat, looking a shade paler.
Vivian, who noticed everything, signaled me to come closer.
When I leaned in, she whispered with a mischievous smile:
"Don't tell me you gave him the sedative trick?"
I held back a small smile.
"Not yet. The President wants to speak with him first."
Vivian stifled a laugh, clearly amused.
We both knew this meeting between Jérémy and the President was only the first step — a simple prelude to far greater events for our nation.
I sat beside the President.
The aircraft engines roared softly as the plane accelerated down the runway.
Through the window, we felt the incline as the aircraft lifted into the sky.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jérémy gripping the armrests tightly, staring at the ceiling with clenched lips.
His fear of flying was far more intense than I'd imagined.
"Come now, my boy, you traveled through space and yet you're afraid of airplanes?" the President asked, curious and lightly amused.
"Well… in my case, I was the one who designed the spacecraft," Jérémy replied nervously, tightening his grip.
Every slight turbulence made him jump.
The President remained calm but watched him with interest.
"I know this is difficult for you," he said more seriously,
"but you must understand — this trip is essential for the future of many people."
"For the future of humanity, you mean," Jérémy answered with sharp irony, avoiding his gaze.
"Nothing big, right?"
At that moment, the plane hit a mild turbulence.
Jérémy turned pale, knuckles white as he clung to the seat.
His eyes darted to the window before he quickly looked away, overwhelmed.
Once the aircraft stabilized and reached cruising altitude, he exhaled deeply, trying to compose himself.