His ability to move beyond his own outrage and indignation only made me admire him even more. I wanted to emulate him, to adopt his confidence and unwavering self-conviction. I wanted to become part of the change.

I was stirred from my thoughts as a four-bell chime rang through the dirigible. Moisture beaded on the glass as the vessel began to sink.

Galina yawned as I shifted out from under her. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and looked at me blearily. “Are we there?”

“We’re descending,” Vanya said.

The dirigible shuddered as we passed through the cloud cover, buffeted like a ship on a stormy sea. Outside the window, mist coiled and wisped against the windows. Then we were in the clear, and a vast expanse stretched below—primordial pine forests flanked by the jagged snow-tipped spine of the mountains.

I pressed my palms against the glass, mesmerized. Those gouges in the earth ahead could only be the Teykhst trenches, and beyond the mountains, I discerned Kupalo’s domed steeples, ruined fortress, and mill.

As we sank lower still, more details filled in. After ten minutes or so, Flight Lieutenant Doǧan appeared at the other end of the observation deck.

“The captain requests your presence,” he said, ushering us up a flight of stairs to the cockpit at the front of the vessel—a semicircular room of exposed cupro-aluminum girders and glass windows, whose walls were fitted with porcelain dials and small fluid-filled tubes used to measure altitude and air pressure.

Captain Şahin stood examining the instruments as we entered. Her chin shifted subtly in our direction, her raven hair moving to reveal the khaki gabardine strap crossed over her left eye. Though the fabric hid the devastation of her socket, it couldn’t so easily hide the scar that coiled down her face, raising her mouth in a perpetual half smile.

“Toma, would you please point out the direction of your home for me? We have reached the proper coordinates.”

As I did, she made several adjustments to the dials on the wall. Taking her place at the wheel, she guided the dirigible into a smooth descent along the flat span of earth between our izba and the river. When we were close enough to the ground that I was a little afraid the observation desk’s floor would make contact with it, she braked the dirigible until it idled at a near standstill and signaled for the mooring team to rappel down.

At the different cities, it had taken her crew only minutes to tether the vessel to the mooring poles constructed at airfields and on state-owned land. As we waited, Şahin explained to me that in Yezmirny the technology was already being developed to create crafts that were capable of landing without the need for mooring.

I nodded along, only half listening. If I squinted, I could just make out our izba. It looked so small, as if it were on the verge of collapsing.

At last, the ship was stabilized, and the gangway lowered from its tip. I stepped down onto the rocky field. So bright. Shielding my eyes with my hand, I waited for my vision to adjust to the sun’s glare.