Page 54 of A Rebel's Shot

The temptation to snatch her up, fly her to a remote cabin, and keep her safe constantly played in his head.

Was legacy worth more than happiness?

He certainly wasn’t one to ask. Not with how he’d abandoned his family’s duty to greatness the first chance he could and hightailed it back to the safety of his Alaskan wilderness.

Merritt opened the door, ushering a frigid slap of wind with her. They needed to leave… five minutes ago.

“We gotta go.” He hollered as she tumbled into the front seat beside him and Nolan climbed in the back seat. “Buckle up. This is going to be a bumpy ride.”

Releasing the parking brake, he applied the throttle and moved to the opposite end of the short runway so he’d be taking off into the wind.

At the end of the dirt strip, he increased the throttle for a run-up, checked the magnetos, carburetor heat, and that all the engine instruments were green for go, then ensured the transponder was set to the appropriate code.

Tiikâan lined up Darth Maule on the centerline of the runway as wind gusts shook the plane. He gripped the yoke firmly, feeling the resistance from the turbulent air.

Applying full throttle, the engine roared to life, vibrating through the frame of the aircraft. The wind pressed against the nose, like a powerful unseen hand pushing against them.

The airspeed indicator came alive, the needle climbing rapidly. Despite the headwind, Tiikâan sensedthe plane wanting to lift off the ground sooner than usual. The increased lift raised the front wheels, and he gently pulled back on the yoke, bringing the aircraft’s nose up.

Darth Maule eagerly climbed, the headwind shortening the ground roll. Wind howled around the cockpit, a reminder of nature’s raw power threatening to toss them.

Tiikâan’s knuckles whitened as he steadied the aircraft against turbulent air currents. The plane’s tires left the ground, transitioning from the rough runway to the smooth embrace of the air almost abruptly.

Climbing out, he adjusted the controls, feeling the wind buffet the wings. With the headwind allowing for a steeper angle, he maintained a steady climb rate.

Senses on high alert, every vibration and noise amplified in the enclosed cockpit. The control inputs felt more responsive, the plane’s movements sharper and more immediate.

The horizon tilted and shifted as he maneuvered the plane, each gust of wind requiring quick, precise adjustments. The altimeter spun upward, and the ground rapidly fell away beneath him. He kept a close eye on the instruments, ensuring the engine performed flawlessly under the strain of the climb.

As the plane ascended, the wind continued to challenge him, but he found a rhythm, a dance between man and machine against the forces of nature. The sky darkened up ahead, and he pointed the nose toward the light sky to the west of the storm.

The race was on.

Tiikâan’s eyes darted between the instruments and the ominous sky ahead.

The jagged peaks of the Brooks Range loomed beneath them, their snow-capped summits disappearing into the encroaching darkness. His jaw clenched as he fought to keep Darth Maule steady against the increasingly violent gusts.

A flash of lightning illuminated the cockpit, followed by a bone-rattling crack of thunder. Merritt gasped beside him, and he longed to reach over and squeeze her hand reassuringly. Instead, he gripped the yoke tighter, his knuckles white with tension.

“How’s it looking up there?” Nolan’s voice crackled through the headset, a hint of worry breaking through his usual stoic demeanor.

Tiikâan swallowed hard, his throat dry.

“It’s… challenging,” he admitted, not wanting to alarm them further. But the truth was, the situation was deteriorating rapidly.

He banked the plane slightly, trying to skirt around the worst of the storm. But with each passing minute, the dark wall of clouds seemed to close in around them, like a predator circling its prey. The altimeter fluctuated wildly as updrafts and downdrafts battled for dominance.

A bead of sweat trickled down Tiikâan’s temple. The smart move would be to turn back, to retreat to the relative safety of the mine. His instincts screamed at him to do just that.

But as he glanced over his shoulder, his heart sank. The storm had outflanked them, cutting off their escape route with a menacing wall of pitch-black clouds.

“Tiikâan?” Merritt’s voice was soft, laced with concern.

Her hands gripped her seat belt, and she squeezed her eyes shut as the plane lurched. Her palpable fear strengthened his resolve to get them through this safely.

He drew a deep breath, forcing calm into his voice. “We’re going to have to push through,” he announced, his tone leaving no room for argument. “It’s going to get rough, but I need you both to trust me. Can you do that?”

“Always,” Merritt replied without hesitation, her faith in him both a comfort and a terrifying responsibility.

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