A golden Monocero with a halo made its appearance as a silent spectator a few weeks ago. It seemed to lead the assaults at least one thousand meters high in the sky. Far away from the active combat zone. The reports barely talked about it. Let alone mention its function except watching the attacks.

Even after listening to Mariam chat about old people’s disease and it could be fixed with the wondrous crystal the base used as a power source, my mind pictured the possible firepower of the golden Monocero. Or should I call it Ringcero.

My brother, David, probably saw the Ringcero. Afterall, he piloted a Terran and fought them.

I passed by the Lady Mary statue. Monte Bianco was slightly elevated, being on a hill, and from the marketplace I could see the eastern watchtower in the base poke from between treetops. At the base of the town was the army residence. Asphalted streets, brickstone houses and metal rooftops for isolation. Ever since the invasion twenty years ago isolated rooftops were mandatory. Well, it wasn’t necessary to care about certain metals considering we had no network. First thing they destroyed were satellites, then net cables and afterwards places with world leaders. Then they reduced us.

I hopped back on to my hoverbike and made my way down to the army residence. The sun set, that was the call for me to return home soon for dinner. One of the last ones after I start my training on the East Atlantic Base. Maybe David and mother will join us this time.

The forest vanished at the same tempo as my bike, behind brick homes. The one place I would miss visiting it every night. The cliff where I was promised to meet him again once he finished his mission. Three long years and uncertainty.

I remembered it clearly. The next night after my first visitation. I brought dried fruits, one smoothie and water. This night wasn’t as cloudy as before. Thus I saw the edges of the Monocero or Nebul. It was invisible, sitting and leaning against the cliff on the northern beach. The limbs were elongated. Its armor was either absent or completely see-through. They wore curved shoulderguards, which followed their limbs until it ended with claws on the toes and fingers.

And like last night, he emerged from its nape. He glanced over me before sitting down at the cliff and watching the sky. I walked up to him.

“Why are you here again?”

“I thought I’d meet you here again.” That was true. An alien from outer space didn’t kill, but instead asked if I spoke english and if I was okay. Not even nanay or kuja asked me that. Dad was the only one who stayed after dinner to ask how I was after the horrible accident.

He turned his face away from me. “What do you want from me?”

I sat down about half a meter away from him. “Nothing, I thought you’d like company.”

“You do know what I am?” He let out a sour tone in his deep voice.

Of course I do. A Monocero pilot who was stranded. I heard nanay speak about one of them disappearing in the middle of combat, after it was shot down a few times. Hostility was to be expected, but as I noticed the lack of aggressivity of him I also saw a complete lack of care.

“What if I do?” I bet I was stupid.

He faced me. His locks obscured his eyes, but his mouth formed a thin line. “Do you not care about your life?”

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I answered. “I do, but you don’t seem bad. At least –”

“Not bad?” He snapped. “I’m probably the worst you could meet.” Then he turned his face again, sighing and laying down.

He watched the sky. I probably shouldn’t continue that conversation. I angered many people recently. Another one shouldn't be something I’d care about. Yet, I felt awful for making him snap at me.

“I’m Amelia.” I stood up, plugged my ears with music and left my bag for him. I shuffled and stepped through the forest, while dodging any vegetation I could destroy with my moves. I would surely return. I wanted to ask him how space was.

And I returned home.

Dad prepared dinner. He held up pork skewers and greeted me with a warm smile. “Barbeque or chili marinade?”

“I want the B.” I dropped my bag next to the sofa. The sun went down and the only lightning we had were the street lamps that penetrated through the window and the measly lightbulb lamps. They flickered every time when a squad of Terran sortied.

“How was your day?” He called for me when I was about to plant myself down on the sofa. After I took off my shoes I washed my hands and helped my dad prepare dinner.

The kitchen counter was filled with vegetables and cut pork. The rice cooker’s countdown reached five minutes and the oil from the pan sizzled as my dad placed the first skewer. We used to have an electric grill, grilling with fire was forbidden or as mother said ‘Coal is hard to acquire and we have to preserve the forest.’ I stuck the slabs of pork on the skewers.

“It was fine. Just the usual.” I answered.

Dad prepared more meat than most of the time. So either my mother or brother told my dad that they’d join for dinner.

“Who is coming?”

“Your mother.”

“What about David?”

“He is on stand-by duty.”

Every pilot took turns in stand-by duty. If my memory didn’t peg me wrong, then ace pilots even attended the duty more than the others.

“Carlo told me you went to the forest this morning. Did you find something good?” My bald father hummed a song I heard in the church years ago. “I heard, foraging season is in November, not July.”

“There was nothing. And how did Carlo see me?” He told my father where I was whenever he saw me. From those three years, Carlo snitched me over a hundred times and I only saw him only a dozen times.

Dad finished searing the first five skewers and picked the next batch. “He works on the field.”

“And in the marketplace and woods.” I added. “Oh and I forgot, southern beach.”

“Coincidence, coincidence.” Dad laughed it off.

The rice cooker beeped, I muted it and opened up the lid.

I forced a laugh. “Are you still asking him to watch me?”

Dad was silent for a bit before he said. “I just worry that something might happen to you.”

“I’m fine. It's not as if one of those aliens came close to this island.”

He finished another batch and picked the last ones from my plate. I washed my hands and prepared the dinner table.

He turned off the stove, letting the last skewers sizzle in the residual heat. “Who knows? One day one of them might land here.”

I twitched at the comment. The horror of my dad discovering my secret left me cold. Would he tell mother? Or would he keep it secret? I played with a fuse with a lighter.

“That would never happen. David shoots them down before they can land.”

He placed the last skewers on a silver plate and slid them across the counter. I served them on the table. And dad finished it with a bowl of rice and cut vegetables.

“David needs to rest. He is a good pilot, but every ace pilot knows their limits.” He answered. “You should know that as well.”

I dropped my shoulders. I stopped piloting years ago, or training for a seat in a cockpit. But he was right. I knew too well that every good pilot knew their limit and when to give it a rest. Also, I knew when to give up being someone I couldn’t be. No pilot would crack their power source in a mock-battle. And hurt their co-pilot.

Dad tapped my shoulder. “Let’s watch TV until your mother returns from base.”