The wafting plates worked like a dream.

Moments before they could, our crew got to work quickly and circled the lorries around the Cloud Runner to return facing forward with their rears to the cockpit. Long and sturdy towing cables with locking hooks were then reeled out above their bumpers and were appropriately clipped into indented bars welded into the wings, intended to be used for this same sort of situation. Once my ship was secured, around fifty in total were magnetised around the haul of the Cloud Runner, and several more along each wing.

It was a bit of a tense moment once the wafting plates were remotely activated, lining the haul of my ship with soft blue glows, but our strategy was revealed to have worked. That wild grin on Doctor Mofuni's face, when he commenced my ship to rise ten feet off the ground with the attachments, could have outshined Earth's moon. The Cloud Runner's underside was caked with dirt and had numerous dents paint-peeled scrapes and scratches around the nose and wings, but no major damage could be seen, inspiring the likelihood that internal damage was also minimal and easily fixed.

A momentous occasion indeed, but our work was far from over. Now began the arduous process of bringing it back to Red Bay, a feat that took us until sunrise to finally accomplish. The lorries had to drive slowly and diligently to avoid tugging too hard on their lines, not to mention coordinate to stay in sync with each other to avoid an uneven pull―which did happen more than a few times along the way.

Doctor Mofuni had to maintain the stability of the wafting plates from his remote, keeping the Cloud Runner elevated and to keep it from drifting. The plates gave him partial control over the Cloud Runner's movement, but he regrettably could not control something so huge with so much mass as easily as he could as a little crate in his lab. I commend that man indefinitely for putting up with his task the entirety of the trek back with minimal cognitive hiccups―nothing that he couldn't work out while keeping a constant hand on his remote.

The journey was slow, excruciatingly time-consuming, and incredibly dangerous. All it took was one scanner to glide by and spot us to compromise our entire mission, but none ever did. I would have activated my camouflage projection again if one did, though I wasn't confident it would cover my friends and their vehicles as well. Krozoa be praised I wasn't forced to find out.

I remained the primary lookout during our return trip, both as eyes and telepathic sonar as I rode atop the reinforced glass canopy of my reclaimed ship, patting it tenderly with my hand. It was almost surreal having been reunited with it after nearly a whole month since I had left it behind to find a power source for her.

I had taken quite many detours in that time, but now it was clear to me such detours were vital in ensuring her repair. Connections were important, and it was a little strange to realise I had made so many in the relatively short time I had crashed on this world. So much had to happen to make it to this point, but it was worth all of it to see that my beautiful craft was finally on her way to get herself mended (once those with mechanical know-how learned how to fix her, of course).

Needless to say, the whole town rushed to the western gate by the time we arrived, at last, to get a gander at the space fighter hover in town.

The two lorry drivers―Francis included―were immeasurably cranky from the long night of unending stress just trying to make it back with the Cloud Runner in tow and were yelling at the people and honking their loud horns vehemently to get them out of the way so we could pass. They just wanted to finish their job and get my ship into one of the few warehouses at the other end of town by the water.

Shephard was there amongst the crowd, looking on in total awe and disbelief as my ship hovered by. He was also quick to spot me riding on top of the Cloud Runner, and I waved to him like I were an attendant on a parade float, which appeared to be true in a sense. Unlike myself when I first arrived, I was pleased to witness that my Cloud Runner was receiving a far more zealous reception when entering town.
The task of getting the Cloud Runner into its designated, cleared-out warehouse was a tedious and stressful process that involved precise coordination. Mofuni had to elevate the Cloud Runner over the buildings packed by the water until the lorries brought us to the line of warehouses, where Mofuni would primarily take charge. Once returning it to a stable elevation ten feet off the ground, Mofuni commanded his wafting plates to turn my ship vertically so its left wing was facing the open door, minding collisions of course, and began to drift my ship slowly and steadily into the warehouse under the plates' own limited propulsion.

My ship was able to fit inside perfectly with ample room to spare. It was unfortunate that there was no way to flip out the landing gear, so I had to remain content with the Cloud Runner resting on its belly, which was thankfully flat enough to be stable on its own. The warehouse was lit by windows that encircled the entire length of the building, providing complete illumination of the brand-new occupant situated in the middle of the expansive floor.

I leapt off my impounded Arwing, making a resounding slap around the cavernous building from my landing sandals. Doctor Mofuni was the only other one in here with me at the moment while flocks of people crowded around the entrance to see the Cloud Runner, though they were kept at bay by our armed makeshift police force. I'm sure he would have raised his arms in triumph after the job was finally done, but Mofuni collapsed onto an oil drum, moaning with exhaustion and release as he dropped his remote.

"Oh… the oyest of veys…" he groaned, with lapsing consciousness. I knelt next to him, startled by his collapse.

"Are you all right, Doctor?" I asked, which was a rather silly question given what he had been doing all night while running on fumes―in addition to the crude fumes produced by the lorries.

"Bed… Bedtime… Tuck in…" he slurred concisely enough.

I smiled and put his arm around my shoulder before heaving him up to a stand with my support.

"You did good, Doctor. None of this could have been possible without you," I told him as we walked along.

"Heh…" Mofuni chuffed tiredly, managing to stay awake well enough to keep his pace. "You…give me purpose, my dear girl. Thanks for making me…ffffeel like a kid again…"

While I knew not to regard whatever Mofuni said during moments of relapse personally, I had a feeling he meant what he said. It made me smile as we set off for his lab where he would get a nice long rest in his bed. The crowds parted ways for us, which was kind of them, and I managed one last look at my beautiful ship, relishing the sight of her in her new home.

Aaron and Rob caught up with me moments later to help me put Doctor Mofuni to bed.

It had been established that no further work on the Cloud Runner would be done for at least a couple of days after securing it in Red Bay, but the warehouse would be closely guarded from most residents until further notice, which the people appeared to respect. That didn't stop a few peeping toms from trying to climb the building to sneak another look at my craft through the windows up on the slanted roof, though security always managed to chase them away.

Being that it was my ship, I had unrestricted access to it and the authority to bring anybody I wished to see it. Aaron and Rob wished to have one last chance to admire this piece from my realm before retiring for their own beds for the day. Sabrine naturally had the right to see what she was currently housing in her town, and Shephard too I felt deserved to see what we brought. I felt it was only fair to have a man with a military background to have a glimpse of what militaries in my realm looked like.

"Well, I'll be…" Shephard gawked as he walked in, putting his hands on his hips. "Feels like I'm on the set of Star Wars or some shit."

"Oh, you're preaching to the choir, Honey," Sabrine uttered, too caught up in her own disbelief as stared down the nose of my Arwing that towered over her. "Where in all of these confounded worlds did you get something like this, Krystal?"

"Space Dynamics," I answered helpfully, licking my legs as I sat along the Cloud Runner's starboard wing, feeling in quite a grand mood. "They're a big company that builds space fighters. This is a prototype Arwing subvariant; they've given me this first rendition to trial. She's been a stellar performer so far."

Sabrine tried processing some key things I mentioned, so Shephard leaned over to help her out. "She's a mercenary," he noted, hoping that would maybe clear things up, but I don't believe that was the issue she was having.

"Yeah, I've noticed she has a knack for jumping in front of danger on purpose," Sabrine retorted, looking up at me again. "Just how armed is this thing, Honey? I'm seeing guns on this thing. Big guns. Are they in any state of being misfired?"

"They are as dormant as the ship is," I reassured. "Don't worry, Sabrine, my Cloud Runner will not endanger anyone. You have my word on that."

I did not blame Sabrine for feeling uncertain of a well-armed alien spacecraft sitting in her haven for refugees who wished to avoid danger, but I thankfully earned enough of her trust to grant me her faith. "I know I do."

"Well, I sure hope we get them powered on soon; this thing is amazing!" Rob shouted around the port end of the Cloud Runner, his voice echoing across the mostly vacant warehouse. Sabrine made a face when he inadvertently restoked his worries, but said nothing. "I haven't seen many prewar aircraft, but I can tell this thing far outpaces anything we could have ever dreamed of making!"

Rob had been investigating every side and angle of the Cloud Runner since coming in while Aaron watched him from a comfy distance. "Boy, I bet this thing will give the Combine a real wedgie when it's working again!"

Aaron laughed. "Assuming we can, lad. This is alien tech after all. I imagine this puppy will require a lot more than an oil change and suspension work to get going again. We can hardly get a car working around here."

Even though I was well aware of this, my spirits still dampened a little hearing Aaron say this. Bringing the Cloud Runner here to safety was a worthwhile endeavour, but it was hard to gloss over the lack of any resources necessary to repair an Arwing's intricate internal mechanisms―a uniquely built Arwing, no less. Even though Doctor Mofuni was up to the task of taking a look at it with his background in engineering, I knew he would not learn all of its intricacies and all that it would take to repair them overnight.

"What's your piece, lassie? You wouldn't happen to know a few things about jumpstarting this thing, would you?"

Aaron caught me in my thoughts, realising he was now standing below the wing I was sitting on while Rob continued studying my craft like a cub at the Aquas exhibit. "Oh. I mean…not a whole lot, unfortunately," I admitted, my ears lowering in defeat. "I have the flight operator's manual by the seat, but it doesn't speak much about repairing a plasma engine. It also doesn't help that it's in an alien alphabet."

Aaron shrugged, remaining hopeful. "No worries, lass. We'll fix it. Internal damage may not even be that bad. Perhaps all she needs is a jumpstart."

That's what I hoped when I first set off to scout for a power source, but I spent nearly a month thinking it over and realised it would not be as easy as I first hoped. Plasma engines, such as the heavily redesigned NTD-FX that powered the Cloud Runner, while powerful and robust, are quite delicate things. There is a good reason why there were at least three layers of reinforced alloys shielding it from external damage.

That violent discharge from the Alpha Quazar's resonance displacement crosscut (Mofuni's hypothesis of the event when I told him of it) seared through the Cloud Runner's haul, completely frying its systems without inflicting any physical damage―at least none that was currently visible. The G-Diffuser systems were inactive since they were powered by the plasma engine, succumbing to the same inoperative state.

Fusion was a serious science, complex as it was powerful, and the Cloud Runner, like other Arwings variants, was built entirely around it. Jumpstarting it with Earth's considerably more primitive technology, which was all that was available in Red Bay, did not spur much encouragement. But suppose there was a compatible alternative to plasma somewhere in this world? Maybe Earth's cross-dimensional overlords possessed such means…

"Perhaps so, my friend," I said, trying to be hopeful like him. "I know she'll be flying again somehow. It'll take time like most grand projects do."

My friends proceeded to have several walkarounds of my spacecraft, their eyes hardly able to get enough of the giant anomaly sitting silently in their presence. Sabrine would have stayed and chatted longer, but she was abruptly called away by one of her associates on a small device called a "pager". Having had enough of looking at my ship on the ground, Rob decided he wished to see the cockpit if I were willing to allow him a viewing. Hardly able to resist his contagious curiosity, I decided he would have a seat in it.

While Aaron and Shephard were sharing a dialogue comparing what they were seeing to what was common in the old days, I simply pulled Rob right up onto the wing with a little help from my staff's tractor stream and led him to the canopy, where I was able to disengage it by flipping up a couple of latches on each side of the ship's head. A tight hydraulic hiss commenced as the airtight canopy rose to full extension, revealing the cockpit to be in the same state in which I left it. This was momentous for me as well, for I had not opened it again until now.

The ship's triangular head had a little leverage to step on, and I advised Rob to watch his step as he shuffled a few steps down the nose before peeking inside, immediately drawn to the open seat that essentially begged for an occupant. "Far out…" Rob examined in wonder, tapping his fingers eagerly on the edge of the Cloud Runner's outer plating before looking at me as I stood on the other side of the canopy. "Do you mind if I…you know…?"

"Just mind the yokes," I smiled encouragingly. Rob leapt inside as carefully as one could when they were excited, thankfully managing to stay clear of the yoke controls. Rob had never been inside an arrangement like this before; his eyes glided around what was before him before securing his hands gently around the grips of the yokes. He was unable to manipulate them thanks to the Cloud Runner's dormant state, but he was still nonetheless enthralled by the position he was in.

"Man, this feels unreal," he muttered as he moved his shoulders around, comfy with how flush his body was with the fluid interface. His brows began to knit a little once he realised just how 'simple' the whole arrangement was. "Uhm…is there like a dashboard somewhere or something? Any system or level gauges? It's just these and a blank surface in front of me."

"Oh, there are displays," I said. "It's all holographic. They activate when the ship does."

"Holographic?" Rob asked. "Awesome."

Although Rob wasn't acting it out, I could see it in his thoughts that he imagined himself flying the Cloud Runner, fighting imaginary battles in space and so direly wished to be able to manipulate the yokes to emulate that fantasy. He seemed to have sensed the wide smile I was making as I heard his thoughts, momentarily looking up at me to see such a thing happening. His face turned red as he let go of the yokes.

"I'm just…pretending is all…" he relented, rubbing his shoulder in embarrassment.

I felt ashamed. Rob knew I had been reading his mind, but such impulses weren't always in my control. His thoughts were particularly loud at this time.

"Forgive me, Rob," I pleaded. "It's not always on purpose. But…I suppose that makes it no less invasive."

"No, it's okay," Rob insisted. "You were born with it. No one should be mad at you for that."

He was sincere about this and truly didn't hold any ill will towards my telepathic tendencies. If anything, Rob found that such traits made me more protective, meaning that I could weed out any deceit within our community or know when somebody posed a threat. I smiled again softly. If there was any deceit to be weeded out in him, there was none that I could sniff out.

"You're always so kind, Robert," I said truthfully, favourably earning the young man's attention with those words. "Tell you what; whenever we manage to get her juiced up again, you'll be amongst the first I take flying in her."

Rob's face fell in disbelief. "You…mean it?"

"I've got seats in the back for a reason," I recalled, gesturing my eyes to them.

Rob wanted to grin in excitement, but he was compelled to remain poised. "That sounds awesome…if that could work out. If you wouldn't mind…"

I managed a charmed smile. His nervous affection for me, one he tried his very hardest to conceal from me though knowing it wasn't always successful, always managed to brighten my day when I sensed it stoking in him. And given my inexplicable tendency to spontaneously begin feeling what somebody else was, this only made it more resounding. It was an unnerving development that would only turn more prominent in the weeks ahead.

Not long after, just when Rob was feeling like he had his fill in the seat of an Arwing, somebody barged inside the smaller door to the outside, causing quite a startling entrance. It was a woman from one of Red Bay's security details named Carry, and she looked rather tense. "Where's Krystal?" she requested pressingly.

"Up here," I raised my hand, making my presence known. "What is it?"

"It's the Chief…" she stated, sounding as dire as any situation was whenever the chief of the Limpiadores was involved―which seemed to be what we were facing right now.

"What about him…?" I asked, sensing already that this was a particularly unprecedented situation.

"He's at the gate," Carry informed anxiously. "He wants to see your ship."