The curvature of the earth was clearly visible from sixty thousand feet, a thin electric blue line separating life from the black void of space. Inside the cockpit of The Firmament Prototype-X, the atmosphere felt utterly alien. Gone was the scent of luxurious leather like in the old Gulfstream; all that remained was the sharp aroma of ozone, cold metal, and recycled air that felt thin in his lungs. Mateo Rossi leaned his head against the hard ejection seat, his eyes fixed on the HUD (Heads-Up Display) screen that projected tactical data directly onto the aircraft's windshield.
The world below, burning Iceland, had long disappeared behind the tranquil stratospheric cloud layer. However, that tranquility was a deception.
"Mateo... my breathing... it's getting heavy," Elena whispered from
