The So-Called Community of Shared Future for Mankind

The sky was high, vast, and clean, with white clouds drifting gently. It was a world of blue, occasionally traversed by streaks of white.

[Emergency (Insufficient fuel to complete mission or return safely)]

[Emergency]

The warning tone continued to sound in his ears. Piloting the F/A-18, codenamed Jazz, the pilot stared intently at the sea below, but all he could see was the endless expanse of water. His brow furrowed.

Jazz always had a peculiar sensation, as if he were flying upside down, with the ocean below being the sky. He knew he was trapped in a dangerously disorienting state of inverted flight.

"Inverted flight illusion" refers to a pilot mistakenly believing the aircraft is flying upside down due to a lack of proper visual references. It is one of the most perilous "flight illusions"!

It's like flying at night, mistaking scattered ground lights for starlight, or flying over the sea where "up and down are equally dark," confusing the sea surface with the sky, and plunging into the ocean. Such incidents have occurred before.

Using his willpower to forcefully suppress the illusion of inverted flight, Jazz adjusted the radio frequency.

"Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! (International distress call)"

Jazz repeatedly sent out distress signals via radio, but all he received in return was the static hiss of radio failure. On the back of the F/A-18, a 20cm-sized rupture was clearly visible, indicating damage to the avionics system and a malfunctioning radio. At the nose, another large hole had completely disabled the radar system, rendering this carrier-based aircraft deaf, mute, and blind.

He drank the last drop of purified water from his pilot's emergency rations, glanced at the empty water bag, and then looked back at the vast, boundless sea below. The low fuel warning sounded again in his ears.

He recalled the battle against unknown enemies. Communications channels were jammed, preventing him from hearing any orders from superiors or communicating with friendly forces. Infrared missiles and radar missiles were ineffective. Even guiding an AIM-120C in semi-active homing mode failed to hit the bizarre aircraft. Meanwhile, his comrades were shot down like turkeys, their burning Hornet wreckage falling into the ocean like a meteor shower.

This isn't like the movies! In the movies, Americans beat up aliens!

It was precisely because he had watched Independence Day that Jazz had joined the Navy, but reality had taught him a harsh lesson. He knew without a doubt that the Carl Vinson carrier strike group had retreated, abandoning them, their carrier-based aircraft.

He didn't even know his own coordinates! The thought of having to eject once the aircraft ran out of fuel, to survive in the vast, trackless ocean, to die of thirst or exhaustion before starving to death, made Jazz feel on the verge of a breakdown. But the desire to survive kept him from succumbing to the pressure. The plane still had fuel; as long as there was altitude, there was hope.

However, reality was harsh. Under Murphy's Law, after flying forward for a while longer, Jazz still saw nothing. The fighter jet seemed to have entered a blue world, an unchanging blue.

Looking at the altimeter and confirming he wasn't "flying upside down," Jazz slammed his fist against the instrument panel. He scanned the surrounding airspace and sea again, praying to see a plane or a ship. Either would give him a chance to survive!

God! For God's sake, for God's...

"Shit!"

[Fuel Starvation]

[Fuel Starvation]

Suddenly, the fuel starvation warning sounded in his ears. As the fuel level continued to drop, despair began to take root in his heart, growing until it finally shattered his mental defenses.

Looking again at the blue ocean below, Jazz's expression became calm. He drew the pistol secured in his pilot's self-defense holster, checked the spare ammunition, pulled back the slide, and slowly pointed it at his chin.

Rather than waiting to die in despair, Jazz preferred to end it now. He knew that with the appearance of those aircraft, all ships in the surrounding waters, whether civilian or military, would avoid the area.

As an American carrier-based pilot, he understood Americans best. Given the typical behavior and execution capabilities of American congressmen, and the speed of naval vessels, a rescue would take months. He would have long since become fish food.

No one was coming to save him!

At this moment, the Carl Vinson didn't care about his life or death, nor did the government. Until they saw him truly dead, he would only be MIA. The news media wouldn't even report his existence. Besides his family, no one truly cared about him!

The primal fear of death caused his body to tremble. His mother's image flashed before his eyes. His finger slowly moved to the trigger, the hammer rising slightly.

"Mom... I want to go home!"

But just as the hammer was about to reach its limit, like the blade of a guillotine descending, two small black dots suddenly appeared in his vision.

Jazz flinched violently, easing the pressure on his finger. He lowered the pistol, his eyes widening as he stared forward, trying to confirm if it was another illusion.

In 25 seconds, a fighter jet flying at Mach 1 could cover 9 kilometers. In 40 seconds, an aircraft could cover 18 kilometers. The two fighter jets were approaching each other at high speed. In less than ten seconds, the small black dots in his vision resolved into visible aircraft. Jazz recognized them—the J-15 Flying Sharks, designated as "enemy forces" by his superiors!

As they closed in, Jazz saw one of the J-15s execute a "leading turn," cutting into his flight path. It then observed the Hornet's damaged condition before deploying its speed brakes and maintaining a parallel, relatively stationary flight with the F/A-18, gradually closing the distance. Jazz turned his head to look into the J-15's cockpit.

At a distance of almost face-to-face, he saw the Chinese pilot in the cockpit make a hand gesture, signaling Jazz to follow. Jazz immediately maneuvered his aircraft to comply. He knew these J-15s weren't there to attack him. His aircraft's avionics were damaged; if they had wanted to attack him, they wouldn't have even been visible before he was shot down by a PL-12.

Under the escort of the Flying Sharks, he flew for an unknown duration before finally spotting a black dot on the sea. The Charles de Gaulle, that steel behemoth, had its deck cleared, awaiting Jazz's arrival.

In the familiar orange glow of the landing mirror, Jazz, tears welling up, descended towards the deck.

As the F/A-18 landed heavily on the deck, its tailhook catching the second arresting gear cable, Jazz found himself unable to describe his emotions.

What had he just experienced? Under the guidance of a J-15, he had landed on a French aircraft carrier! Were they (China) really his enemies?