Artificial Horizon - A César Fernando Basa x Reader story

XX: Line of Position

A line along which an aircraft is known to be at a particular time, usually by taking a Very High Omni-directional Range (VOR) bearing. Referred to in radials and whether "inbound" or "outbound" to a channeled station.

* * *

"We're not so eager to die than you think of us, (L/N)," Capt. Villamor's fleeting words to me echoes quite too loudly in my head. Some sort of confirmation out of him, out of one of the best pilots there is, had said those words to me. And for some reasons, it is definitely assuring than anything else.

Perhaps, it is more of an assurance than that of César or anyone else saying that we shall not be worried of them. I think, them saying Capt. Villamor's words then are better despite it being so direct to the point.

I sigh heavily and watch for a second Capt. Villamor leaving until his figure grows small in the distance and in the darkness of the camp. Afterwards, I turn back to look on at César, him laughing at what one of the mechanics had told him about.

As Capt. Villamor earlier said, it is indeed quite strange seeing César be hands-on as well with the dirty work of aircraft maintenance. That, instead of just simply flying, he seems to be enjoying the work of trinkets, too.

It didn't take long that one of the mechanics notice me watching them, that he then catches César's attention to inform that I am there. Though I remain in my position, they definitely think that César will then make the move to reach me. However, César just stop laughing for a moment and seems quite surprised to find me there before he simply raises a hand in a small wave and then looks away, returning to his previous work and conversing with the mechanics.

Hindi niya naman talaga ako dinismiss as he acknowledges my presence here. Pero talaga bang wala siyang plano na puntahan o kausapin man lang ako?

I breathe out heavily again and after debating about whether to let him be or not, I finally decide to be the one to reach him instead. In my reality, just to simply walk in the hangar this way, I'll definitely be in need of a reflector vest and an access pass; however, in here, it seems like I can just walk in and hope that I'll not be accused of anything that may gone wrong the next. After all, the heart and the rest that make planes flyable are here—from the smallest bits of screws and nuts to the very engine itself.

"For phase inspection din 'yan ulit, tenyente," one of the mechanics tell him. "Na-squawk 'yan no'ng huling gumamit na tumataas ang oil temperature kahit puno naman ang oil niyan. Kailangan pa namin i-check 'yong mga linya. Baka makita namin doon ang problema."

César only nods as he looks away from one of the planes in the hangar and then continues on doing what he is working on.

"Good evening, ma'am," another mechanic greets me, causing the others to also do so. I hint a few familiar faces from them, especially remembering two out of them that I've seen before our flight from Clark to Davao—that chief mechanic and ramp agent at that time.

I smile sheepishly, nod, and mumble back my own greeting to them. They are also surely aware of what is my relationship with César that realizing what may lead me here is the man in question completely out of place among the maintenance crew; they then slowly scurry away as if to offer us some privacy. I'll be honest to say that they did it in such a rather funny and awkward way that it is very visible that they want to be away from us, in any event that they'll be witnessing or hearing something completely out of the line from me and César.

However, the moment that it had just been us at this part of the hangar—with the mechanics busying themselves at the other end—I can't help fidgeting about what I shall do then. I am unsure of how to open a conversation now between us as the memory of how I raised my voice at him early this morning and how I walked out is all too fresh.