At ten years old, Valeri was one of the finest cadets Raptor Academy had ever seen. She was not the best pilot in the simulators, but she was already in contention with final-year cadets as a strategist and tactician. She memorized rosters of names, personal skill sets, equipment details, and other assets in order to deploy them for maximum effect.
Simulation scores for her command ability were so unexpectedly high as to be almost unreadable. Her unusual talents were a frequent topic of conversation among the senior staff. Unlike the rest of her classmates, Valeri was a ward of the Terran state. An orphan. She had been referred to as a number for the majority of her first six years, but had been allowed to choose a name to call her own when the recruiters asked her to come to the Raptor's Claw for training.
At first, her instructors thought she had chosen the name of a hero from the Great War as an inspiration. Admiral Valeri had selflessly sacrificed her ship and crew to end that war. It was reasonable for a young cadet to idolize such a person.
After only two weeks, the rumors began. Initially, the rumor had been a joke. People referred to her as the Admiral. At some point in her first year, the rumor became suspicion. Now, there were few adults aboard the station without opinions on the matter of Cadet Valeri and her name. The Headmaster of the Academy had even petitioned the Terran Bureau of Statistics for any records pertaining to her lineage, anything that might give them a clue as to whether or not the rumors might be founded, but there was little information to be had.
In the end, some people believed Valeri to be the Admiral's direct descendant. Some of the more spiritual types harbored thoughts that the girl might even be the Admiral's reincarnation. Whatever she was, though, the girl would be an excellent officer in any Terran Navy.
OnyxCorps, Pandora and the Wildcards had caught wind of her skills and petitioned Terran Command to test her. By law, she could train with any military she chose to and no authority in Terran space was allowed to prevent her from acting on that choice. Two years of mandatory military service were required of a Terran Ward, but the service could be paid for by anyone.
Jessica Robertson, representing OnyxCorps, leaned forward, put her elbows on the table and laced her fingers together. She stared intently at the woman opposite her. Whereas Jessica wore the traditional dress uniform of OnyxCorps, black and silver, Envira wore a riot of color in flowing garments that were common of Earthbound terrans. Briefly, Jessica considered how she would look in such regalia. She put the mental image away in annoyance and focused on the task at hand.
"You want ten pilots for a single cadet?" Jess asked in disbelief.
The room had white walls, floors, and ceiling. Even the table was pristinely devoid of color. Jessica had never seen a place so sterile. The contrast between the environment and Envira's attire was shocking.
"Her record speaks for itself, Mrs. Robertson."
"Envira, we've known each other since we were kids. Enough with the formality." Jessica was always slightly jealous of her friend's exotic beauty. Earthbound Terrans were the equivalent of genetic perfection. She had flawless olive skin, eyes the color of forest leaves, and soft auburn hair streaked through with chocolate brown swirls. The woman smiled and Jessica rolled her eyes at the perfection and symmetry of those ivory rows.
"Jess, then. This one's special."
"I can see that. We can all see that. But saying that one child is worth the services of ten fully trained pilots for two years? OnyxCorps is going to have to pay a small fortune to those pilots to get them to transfer."
"To be perfectly honest, Jess, the only reason we're asking for ten is because that's the legal limit. If it were up to me, it would be a hundred."
Jessica Robertson's mouth shut with a snap. Envira was not a woman to mince words. If she said it, she meant it. A hundred?
"You think she's worth a hundred pilots for two years?"
"Easily." Envira rose with sickening grace and flowed across the room. "See for yourself." She brushed her hand against an area of the wall that was completely indistinguishable from any other place on it. The outline of a door appeared as a portion of the wall sank in, then slid away to reveal a young girl.
Even from the distance of ten feet, Jessica's breath caught. Hard, pale blue eyes cut right through her. She felt as if, for a brief moment, the girl could see into her very soul. There were no secrets in that moment. She felt exposed, laid bare before the intense scrutiny of the child. And then, it was over.
The chief recruiting officer for OnyxCorps stood slowly. She had no doubt whatsoever that the girl had just weighed her up, judged her, and come to a solid conclusion.
"Cadet Valeri?" The woman asked, somewhat shakily. The girl stepped through the door, turned, and ripped off a salute so sharp it could have cut through plate metal.
"Mrs. Robertson." She stated in a voice that Jessica could only have described as military. It was clipped, direct, and completely devoid of any nuance or emotion.
Envira reached a hand down and touched the girl's shoulder. "Cadet, we do not salute civilians."
"No ma'am. Mrs. Robertson currently holds the rank of Lieutenant, First Class with the Black Angels. Logistics and Supply Division. She retained her commission upon leaving the squadron."
Envira looked up with surprise. "Is this true, Jess? You're an Angel?"
Jessica had frozen in mid-stride. Those records were sealed. OnyxCorps' elusive owner had made sure that there would never be a thought to favoritism within the corporation. Only the top-level brass in the company could have gotten the information.
"How could you know that, Cadet?" Jessica asked in astonishment.
"OnyxCorps cadets are expected to keep a working knowledge of current events in the solar system, Ma'am. When the Nephilim platform was released by your company, a news broadcast showed an exclusive clip of the fighter's cockpit in which your name was visible below the canopy. 'LT. Jessica Robertson.' Only a first-grade officer has authority to pilot experimental-class combat vessels, therefore you must have been a Lieutenant, First Class. Later that year, another broadcast confirmed you as the lead for Research and Development, which is a civilian component of OnyxCorps. Unless you were able to attain the rank of Captain in a matter of months, it was a safe assumption that you maintained the rank of Lieutenant, First Class. The only way you could have lost the commission would have been as a penalty for a crime or a violation of the Terran Unified Military Accord which grants equal status to civilian and governmental militaries and allows rank to be transferred after the person in question leaves service. Had you committed a crime or violated the Accord, it's doubtful that OnyxCorps would have retained you as a civilian officer."
With a long suffering smile, Envira addressed Jessica. "She has a condition known as 'Hyperthymesia'. She can remember almost anything she has seen, read, heard, or thought from any day in her life. In vivid detail."
"You make it sound like a disability." Jessica was beyond impressed. Mr. Hammer could lock down files, but how would he, or the entire security division of OnyxCorps, ever hope to control information with a someone like Valeri around?"
"There are times, like now, when it can be disadvantageous for those around her. Isn't that right, Cadet?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Jessica looked up into Envira's green eyes. The woman smiled in response.
"Cadet Valeri, stand at ease." Jessica said, almost without thought. The girl's hands snapped behind her and locked together, her feet shoulder width apart. "Can I assume you know why I am here?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Jessica rolled her hand in a gesture indicating she wished her to elaborate.
"You're an OnyxCorps officer. The Wildcards and Raptors have already submitted offers for me to join them. Since I have been called here and an OnyxCorps officer is also here, the only reasonable explanation is that you wish to make your own offer. If that is the case, then I accept."
Even Envira was surprised by the admission.
Jessica raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"The Black Angels are operated by a private organization with no other mandate than defense. The Raptors have offensive operations that do not fall in line with my personal values. The Wildcards have no discipline. I have declined both offers. The only two offers that I would consider would be from the Black Angels or the Knights."
Jessica's heart leapt into her chest.
"The White Knights are real?" She asked without thinking. The girl was, perhaps, one of the sharpest individuals she had ever met. It wasn't that she saw more than others, it was that she retained the information she received and made connections to points most people had forgotten or never committed to memory, at all. For Valeri to make such a bold statement was shocking. The Knights were legendary.
"Of course, though they haven't responded to my attempts to contact them."
"You know where they are?"
"Yes, ma'am. But it isn't my place to divulge that information."
Jessica looked up with a sigh. To the ceiling, she said: "Ten pilots will be here within the week, Envira."
"Respectfully, ma'am," The girl spoke without invitation, a rarity among officers and cadets, "could they all be male?"
"Why?"
"The pilot roster is almost ninety percent female, ma'am. It has led to a noticeable decrease in morale among the Raptors. I would recommend they be personally selected by a female OnyxCorps officer with a view to social standing, relationship status, combat ability and fitness level. In that order."
Envira, cocked her head with a smile. "I don't think ten testosterone-fueled pilots are going to spread evenly among five thousand female pilots, Cadet."
"No ma'am, but it would certainly add a level of healthy competition to the training sessions."
Both adults stared at each other with blank expressions. Jessica was trying hard not to let her jaw flop about at a loose end. Valeri didn't speak like a cadet. Other than her physical stature, there seemed to be nothing ten-years-old about her. Her communications skills were far beyond most grown people she had met. Her analysis and reasoning were without flaw.
"Out of discretion for the reasoning behind the selection process, I'll choose the candidates, personally." Jessica told Envira, carefully.
"I look forward to reviewing them." Envira replied, even more carefully.
"Then, there's just the matter of the offer." Jessica started, feeling her ears burn with embarrassment. She turned once more to the girl. "You are offered the rank of Private, division negotiable pending aptitude tests. As you do not have a family to send your pay to, it will be held in trust by a neutral financial manager until you reach the age of sixteen, provisionally. Meals, uniforms, and quarters will be provided by the Company unless a specific training regimen requires deviation. You will be quartered with seven other Privates in the barracks wing of our training facility. Personal belongings will be stowed with the quartermaster until you've reached sufficient rank to warrant single-quarters. Do you accept?" Jessica ran through the spill as if she were saying it for the thousandth time. In truth, that number was probably an understatement. In front of a neutral witness, which Envira qualified as, the contract would be verbally sound until such time as it could be recorded on holo.
"Negative." Valeri said, surprising Jessica once again. "I would like to propose a counter offer."
Jessica looked up at Envira who gave another small smile. "Proceed."
"I accept the rank, quarters, and pay, ma'am, but I wish to be assigned to the combat division immediately."
"I mean no offense, Cadet, but your scores show you to be better suited for command. You're ranked first in the Academy in strategy, tactics and logistics. While you're a good pilot, the Angels rarely accept a cadet that isn't in the top five percent of their class. What reason can you give me to grant your request?"
Normally, Jessica would have dismissed any form of negotiation, and certainly one as
brazen as this. Negotiation, however, was a discipline of strategy, and she would hear the girl out.
"If I achieve command, whom will I be commanding?"
"Most likely, you will train and advance on either the Halo or Rock One. It would be their pilots and crew you would command."
"Without serving in the combat wing, I won't know the abilities and limits of the Angels, Ma'am. To be a competent commander, I would need to know the details of my command from the inside out."
Jessica leaned back in her chair. That was a point of contention among the brass. The higher-ups assumed a Commander would be able to command regardless of their position. There were those who would see every ranking officer serve a mandatory commission with the Black Angels before being given authority over them. She was of the latter mindset.
"You would be the only Private to ever be assigned to the Angels." The girl said nothing, but stared straight ahead. Jessica already knew that it was the right choice, but such a request would be difficult to get past the paper-pushers in the upper echelons of OnyxCorps. "Is this a deal-breaker, for you?"
"It is, ma'am."
"Alright. You graduate in two months. After the ceremonies, you will be transferred to OnyxCorps Military Authority. From now until then, you will be registered as an OnyxCorps civilian presence with special clearance for voluntary training. During your leave, you may visit any facility you wish, enlist any training you desire, and make use of any equipment you are rated for. Do we have a deal?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"With Envira of Earth as my witness, the contract is set." Instead of shaking hands, Jessica stood and came to the position of attention. "Dismissed. Private." Valeri delivered another crisp salute which Jessica returned, even though not in uniform. The girl executed an about-face and marched to the door, disappearing from sight.
---
The intervening years were a blur for Valeri. She reached the rank of Sergeant before her twelfth birthday and maintained that rank for two solid years. She went through the same promotion rituals as every other person on Rock One, but she was the only one that couldn't be promoted. Though she could not advance to Lieutenant until she was sixteen, those above her gave her the respect she had earned. The road hadn't been easy, but she had excelled far beyond her own expectations.
Finding out that she was not just a gifted pilot in the overpowered Black Angel fighters, but an exemplary wing commander had been a surprise to both her and her instructors. Commanding from the cockpit of a speeding combat vessel locked in tight maneuvers with enemy swarms at her back came as naturally to her as breathing. She was equally efficient while training from the bridge of Rock One, but her instructors preferred her in the cockpit, as the results tended to be nothing short of spectacular.
"Listen up, Angels." She said over the comm band. "The Raptors and Wildcards will be
executing combined-arms exercises, today. They will be using holographic ordinance, so enjoy the light show. We are here to referee. Every pilot here has stop-flight authority. If you see foul play or if a ship leaves the containment area, you are to call a ceasefire. Clear?"
Four squadron commanders acknowledged her orders. She gave them a moment to filter her instructions to the flights under their command.
"Emergency response ships, if there is a call for your services, you will not, I repeat you will not enter the combat area until I give the clear. Confirm."
"Confirmed, Angel One."
"Wildcards and Raptors. We've got a nice crowd, here. SkyLab has good visual and the News Corps are broadcasting. I'm expecting a good show."
"We won't let you down, Angel One." This from the Raptor commander.
"Well, they might, but we'll make up for it." Came the retort from the Wildcards.
She laughed, her voice ringing out over the comms. "Lets see what you've got, then. Prepare for combat."
Few people would have volunteered for the detail. All of the older pilots would rather watch the games from the comfort of Rock One. Valeri loved to fly, so had volunteered. No doubt, her instructors would be judging her performance, but the tediousness wouldn't give them much to judge.
She waited for the green light on her ship's display. When Rock One gave the all-clear, she thumbed a switch on the flight-stick. Every light on her modified ceremonial ship lit up like a miniature emerald sun, showing to all present that combat had begun.
The Wildcards were using a frigate design she'd never seen. It was long and sleek, typical of their craft, but deceptively maneuverable. It spun much faster than it should have been capable and began to put distance between it and the opposing Raptor carrier. Hundreds of blue streaks streamed out from the Wildcard's vessel as fighters were launched. Almost simultaneously, the green engine flares of the Raptors began to appear.
Combined arms exercises tended to be grueling and dirty. It was basically several hundred dogfights going on simultaneously. Each squadron would try to get a flight of bombers through the fray to take out the command ships, and the command ships would try to position themselves in a way that would allow their armaments to be of use against the enemy.
It was quickly apparent that the Wildcard ships were more agile, though the Raptors more than made up for the tactical disadvantage by having turreted weapons and a great deal more of them. All in all, Valeri thought it was a pretty even match.
The Raptor commander had a sound mind. While the strategy he used wasn't good for show, it was careful, calculated, and well executed. The Wildcards, however, were living up to their name. It was difficult for them to get past the solid wall of defense that the Raptors were building, but time and again, some brilliant play by a squadron or wing commander would pierce through and deal serious damage. An overlay on her holo display showed each capital ship, the damaged components, and its structural integrity. After half an hour, neither flagship was below fifty percent, but both were dwindling on fighters.
Unless both parties wanted the battle to devolve into an all-out boxing match, someone was going to have to make a decisive play. Command carriers fighting tended to be somewhat boring. They basically flew up next to each other and shot everything they had until someone exploded. Given the nature of the vessels, the Raptors could take the hits and dish the damage. In that situation, the advantage of maneuverability on the Wildcards side would be useless.
Apparently, the Wildcards had the same thought. In a moment of spectacular showmanship, the entirety of their fleet retreated to form their own defensive net around their carrier. This wasn't needed as the Raptors had chosen to wage a battle of attrition and were whittling down their opponents with gun power and patience. After the wall of ships was established, the Wildcard carrier separated into three distinct components.
Smiling, Valeri shook her head in appreciation. "Leave it to the 'Cards." She said over the Angel's private comm channel. There was a chorus of agreement.
The two end-pieces, roughly conical in shape, began to shift as components reconfigured. Ten seconds or so went by before the transformation was complete. They elongated and became massive spear-heads. Blinding blue light lit up space for thousands of miles as massive engines engaged. With uncharacteristic discipline, the Wildcard fighters formed perfect rings around the spears as they accelerated toward the Raptor frigate.
There was a moment before the Raptors began moving to intercept, presumably because their Commander was as shocked by the sudden change of battle parameters as the onlookers. Then, with no other options and twin spears of blue fire bearing down on him, he began the slow turn to evade. There wasn't a chance that the cumbersome frigate could get away in time. Wildcard fighters defended their respective spears and a fabulous light show ensued. The Raptors couldn't get close.
The battle was over. A brilliant play of engineering and tactics had won the day.
The Raptors signalled their surrender.
Over open comms, Valeri spoke with a smile. "Fantastic show to both the Raptors and the Wildcards! Neither of you let me down. Cease fire on all fronts."
She watched as the Raptors began to assume their parade formation. Ships that were powered down due to their 'destruction' reactivated and joined their brethren. One spear cut it's engine flares and began to bank back to its original location. The other spear still accelerated toward the Raptor command ship.
"Wildcards, stand down." Her smile began to fade.
"Angel One, Lance Two is not resp-" The voice was cut off as the engines of the second spear exploded. A ring of blue and violet light pulsed out into space. The sharpened point of the segment was hurtled beyond it's already prodigious speed.
"Angels, move to intercept." Valeri stated calmly. "Raptor Command, confirm ballistic trajectory."
"Angel One, this boat's too heavy to get out of the way. Confirmed impact trajectory."
"All Wildcard fighters, converge on Raptor Command. All Raptor fighters on the spear. Rescue One, prepare for casualties. Rock One, live ordinance to reserve fighters, emergency scramble. Angels, on me. Any bombers in the area are to land on Raptor Command and haul off as many people as you can fit in your hold." The ships in the containment zone lit up the night as engine flares blazed to life. Her commands were obeyed with urgency. Every vessel came alive with purpose.
She rammed her throttle control forward and the twin starfire engines surged to life. Like an arrow shot, she was hurled across the black, the entirety of her command behind her.
"Wildcards, I want you to crash into the Raptor. Your nose cones are dense, they can take the hit. All of you on one side. Use your engines to get Raptor Command out of the way. If your structure starts to buckle, back off. Raptors, your hull is as dense as their nose cones. Slow that spear down. Flight Commanders, coordinate with each other and push in opposite directions. Angels, our hulls can't take much but our structures are strong. Find somewhere to hook a wing or stabilizer and help the Wildcards push. Corporal Barringer, take your flight, switch to combat scanners and look for survivors from the spear."
"Reserves online and ready, Sergeant." Valeri looked over her shoulder and pointed the nose of her fighter up briefly to see behind her. A stream of Black Angels poured out of the belly of Rock One.
"Get between the spear and Raptor Command. If we can't move one of them, do whatever you have to to take it out. Weapons-free, Angels."
"Confirmed, weapons-free."
Valeri was relieved to see that the spear wasn't moving as fast as she'd thought. It was still moving too fast for the Raptor frigate to clear its path, but they had a little longer to execute. A yellow explosion lit up the hull of the Raptor's command vessel. A Wildcard, she thought. Couldn't back it off in time. When the superstructure of the fighter gave way, there was no surviving. The engines would surge through the cockpit, crushing everything inside. At least it was a quick death. With the speed and precision of years of training, her team fell in with the Wildcards. She found a nook between an engine housing and it's flaps, wedged her starboard wing in and throttled up. One by one, the Angels took their places.
"Raptor Command, what's your compliment?" A piece of debris, propelled in front of the spear slammed into the Raptor frigates armor plating, followed almost instantly by one of her Angels. The nose cone slammed through the thick armor. Valeri could see the ship's superstructure warped just behind the cockpit.
"Four hundred thirty souls, Angel One."
"All nonessential personnel are to suit up and prepare to bail. If the Wildcards don't have the power to get you clear, give your people a chance."
"Aye, Angel One."
Without looking, Valeri tapped a holoscreen to her right, switching from system-wide comms to private. Her ship was wedged in such away that she could look up and to the right and see clearly into the cockpit of the other Angel. There was blood on the canopy.
"Corporal Daniel." She stated, reading the illuminated nameplate magnetized to the hull.
"Sarge." The voice was soft.
"Your frame is damaged, Corporal. You'll be no use to us. Clear the area."
"Can't. Stuck." The person in the cockpit didn't turn to look at her. She thought it was odd.
"Get. Unstuck." She commanded, her voice brooking no possibility of refusal.
"The flight-stick, Sarge." She saw an arm move in the cockpit, then a hand raise. It glistened.
She scanned the ship closer and saw a piece of metal protruding from directly under where the pilot's chair was situated. She visualized the position of the internal controls and systems and realized that the Corporal had been impaled on the flight stick and was having the air crushed from his lungs by the collapsing hull. He wasn't breathing hard to compensate. The Corporal was already dead, he just hadn't given in.
"Wedge your starboard wingtip in." She ordered softly. The pilot looked over his right shoulder.
"Stand by." She heard the comms click off and watched the Corporal wrench his body to the right. Though she couldn't hear it, she could see him scream with the pain of it and gasp, blood pouring from his mouth. He looked as if he would pass out, but shook his head and fought through it. He flipped the comms back on.
"You'll stay with me?" His voice was quiet. In it, she heard a sense of finality. He looked up at her. "I don't want to be alone."
"I'm not going anywhere, Corporal." Her voice came almost as a whisper. She watched his eyes begin to close as the strength faded from his body. "Daniel. Look at me."
The pilot looked over. Twenty feet separated them, but she could see the youth of his face, the pain and fear in his blue eyes, and, as he smiled, the discoloration of blood on his teeth. A light track of pink ran from his eye to his chin where tears had cleaned it.
Looking up, she realized the spear was almost on them. "Put your hand on the throttle. All the way forward. Lock it in so the engines will keep firing." Her blue eyes locked on his. He was straining to keep his open.
The pilot moved his right hand. Still staring at Valeri, he nodded once, smiling a thin, bloody smile. With a wrench, he rammed the throttle bar forward.
Twin starfire engines were powerful and engineered to provide massive thrust to the lightweight vessels. They tore through the ship like a razorblade through paper. The cockpit was obliterated by the crushing force of their combined might. Valeri closed her eyes. She heard the spray of glass and metal fragments bounce off of her canopy. In that instant, every moment of potential created by Daniel's life was erased from the universe. His laughter. His tears. His joy. His sorrow. His annoyances. His delights. He would have grown up. He would have met a woman. Awkwardness would have transformed into laughter, laughter into familiarity, familiarity into friendship, friendship into love. Children might have been born, a living testament to the love he had found. Grandchildren after that. He could have grown old and died to be mourned by those he left behind. To be mourned by the lives he had filled with all of the emotion, passion, and presence that is gifted from one person to another. An entire lifetime of could-have-been expanded in Valeri's mind, before being crushed out of existence by the fury of the starfires.
The engines drove into the hole created by Corporal Daniels' fighter. Tightly wedged in, they continued to fire at full burn. There was nothing she could do, now, but watch.
Raptor fighters swarmed around the spear. She gave it twenty seconds before impact. They were moving it, she could see, but she doubted it would be enough.
"Raptors, pull off. Angels, as soon as they're clear, fire everything you've got. If anyone on that spear can hear me, abandon ship now."
Time seemed to slow for Valeri. It took three seconds before the Angels let go a barrage of cannon fire that nearly blinded her.
Her stomach tightened. Streaks of blue laced her vision, afterimages of the white-hot rounds of her companions. The spear sailed on as the Angels and Raptors scattered, it's trajectory significantly altered. One half of the Raptor command ship was lit up by the combined engine flares of the Wildcards and her Angel fighters, pushing, pushing. Another flash came as a fighter's structure failed and exploded, then another. Men and women were giving their lives in the desperate attempt to save people they didn't know.
Valeri felt her ship jolt. She looked down and realized she had the throttle bar in it's forwardmost, locked position. Under her feet, she felt the structure begin to bow. With a nod of finality that mirrored Daniel's final moment, she took her hand from the locked accelerator and rolled the dice of fate.
With a flash of sparks, the cone of the spear sheared off the armor plating of the Raptor frigate not thirty feet from her. It tore a gaping wedge through a hundred foot section of the outer hull. She saw bodies blown out into space. Every single one was wearing an environmental suit.
As quickly as it had begun, it was over. The spear angled out into the black, deflected by the surface armor of Raptor Command.
She throttled her ship down and fought to control the rising bile in her stomach. Valeri activated comms.
"Rock One, deploy tugs to retrieve the spear. Wildcards, if you have a ship that'll outpace it, get out there and board it. Take medical personnel to render aid for possible survivors."
"Aye, Sergeant." The responses came in unison.
She knew it would take at least half an hour for the salvage tugs to deploy. They were bulky and cumbersome, but they'd bring in the spear.
"Angel Reserves, stow weapons and join the search for survivors."
"Yes, Sergeant."
"Wildcards and Raptors, return to your command vessels. All Commanders, execute roll call. I want casualty reports."
"Yes, Angel One." She didn't know what to make of their quiet responses. Lives had been lost. She supposed she would respond the same as they.
"Black Angels, report in."
She pressed a holographic key on her display. Almost all of her detail had survived. Almost.
With a force of will she reinforced the dam inside her, breaking the surge of emotion as it rose up. There would be time for emotion, later. For now, she had her duty to the people still in danger.
---
Eighteen hours later, Angel One landed on Rock One's carrier deck. Pilots were laying against the bulkheads or just passed out in their open cockpits from sheer exhaustion.
Twelve casualties. She wouldn't weep for the lives lost. Not yet. She was in command. With a soft hiss, the canopy unsealed and slid back. She climbed slowly out of the cockpit and descended the ladder. The crew chief was walking toward her with a purpose. People pointed and rose from the deck, staring.
When her feet came in contact with the ground, her legs gave way and she folded, hammering her knees into the deck plate. She used her hands to keep from falling completely.
After being freed from the Raptor frigate, she had joined in the search for survivors. Using mag-hooks, Valeri towed twelve ships away from the search area. Thirty more people grabbed hold of those same lines to be dragged away in only their environmental suits. All in all, two hundred souls were brought back by her Angels to be cared for. She was proud of them all. Not one person had asked to be relieved of duty, not one person had complained of their exhaustion. She had driven them harder than she had a right to. But no one complained.
"Sergeant?" The crew chief had, apparently, teleported to her. Her auburn hair was in disarray under her deck helmet. She was still as businesslike as always, but her searching eyes were worried.
"I'm good, Chief." She lied. Her vision was going dark. She was seeing spots dance around. She felt winded and couldn't catch her breath.
"Yeah, not being able to stand up is a sure sign of good health." The Chief pointed. "You three, get over here." Valeri felt like her body was becoming heavier. The Chief's finger bounced from one person to the next as she spoke. "You, hit the supply locker. Find blankets and water. You, get a doctor in here, she needs more than a med tech. You, find the Command Sergeant and let him know Valeri's on board and being treated for oxygen deprivation and shock." The woman turned as all three pilots took off at a run. "Sergeant, have a seat."
"Sure, Chief." She knew better than to argue with the woman. The spots danced in front of her eyes and became a swirling vortex.
"Sergeant?" She heard them call her, but saw nothing. She struggled to stay awake.
"... holes in the cockpit. The gel sealed most of them, but she lost almost all of her atmosphere."
"How long was she out there?" That was the Flight Surgeon. She knew his voice. He was a kind man, but always had a glint in his eye that hinted of the steel in him.
"According to the flight recorder, fourteen hours after the hull was breached." The Chief answered.
"Why can't I see?" She asked, her voice sounding tinny in her own ears.
"You've lost a lot of blood, Sergeant. I need you to stay awake for a while longer. Can you do that?" Valeri smiled at the concern in his voice.
"Anything for you, Doc. Where are my Angels?"
"We're here, Admiral." She recognized the playful voice, but couldn't remember who it belonged to.
"Rebecca. Lost her on the frigate. Travis, too." She felt the storm of emotion rise up again. "And Daniel." She drew a sharp intake of breath. The strength to maintain the barrier inside her was gone. Cold kissed her cheek as the first tear slid away. "I lost Daniel." The pressure in her chest welled up, but she fought down the sob. Valeri forced her body to relax, seeing her Angels in her mind's eye.
"Stay awake, Sergeant!" She heard the voice snap, but saw only Daniel's face as he gave his last grim nod. She gave in to the darkness, hoping she would find Daniel there so he wouldn't have to be alone. Valeri was only vaguely aware of her head hitting something soft as she collapsed.
---
"This is the report?" The men sat across from each other in a dimly lit room. One wore a business suit, the other the black uniform of an OnyxCorps Admiral.
"Yes, Sir."
"I'm not a physician or statistician, Admiral. These might as well be hieroglyphs."
"The only lines you need to worry about are here and here, Sir. This one marks the heart rate monitor built into her flight suit. This one is the oxygen saturation of the ship's cabin."
"During the CAX maneuver?"
"Yes, Sir."
"It doesn't deviate."
"We thought it might be a malfunction, so we compared it with the O2 readings. There was an unsealed microfracture in her hull from the impact. She lost most of her atmosphere. Deck chief couldn't believe she was still conscious, much less able to land her fighter."
"Steady declination of oxygen levels?"
"Yes, sir."
"What about when Corporal Daniel gave his life?"
"Marked in red, there, sir."
"Are you sure she's human, Admiral?"
"Believe it or not, the flight surgeon asked that same question after seeing her charts. He scanned her for cybernetic enhancements. He was genuinely surprised, but that girl is one-hundred percent human."
"What does it mean?"
"As far as we can tell, either she has absolutely no capacity for emotion or she has an inhuman level of self-control." The Admiral sat back and stared out of the large window to his right. "I was with her on SkyLab with Corporal Daniel's parents. I assure you, her emotional capacity is without question."
"Damn. How did she handle it."
"Like a professional. At first. She gave his parents the sergeant's stripes from the uniform she had been wearing that day. I won't lie, it was the closest I've ever come to losing my composure in front of a civilian. She said Daniels deserved them more than she did. The Admiralty has seen fit to posthumously promote him. Ironically, he's currently being vetted to receive the Star of Valeri."
"He earned it, Admiral."
"Yes, he did. Only because there isn't a greater honor to give him."
"And the Sergeant?"
"She'll receive a bronze star for Valor." The Admiral raised his hand as he saw the objection crossing the other man's face. "It was all she would let us give her. She declined the Purple Heart, saying that it's only for combat situations. She's recommended four Black Angels for Silver Stars. She will be promoted to First Lieutenant before the week is done. She wouldn't let us promote her to Captain, either."
"It's not my place to mettle in military affairs, Admiral, but flight rank below the age of sixteen is prohibited, isn't it?"
"Yes, Sir. A request was made for Terran authority to grant her emancipation from the state. Somehow the media caught wind of it. The entire solar system saw what she did out there. Earth has already sent the documents."
The businessman smiled. "A loophole to the law and unusual media presence surrounding it? Well played, Admiral."
"I have no idea what you mean, Sir."
A moment passed as the men appraised each other.
"Admiral, you are aware of the Archangel Project?"
"Vaguely, sir."
"The flight commander for that detail has been recently promoted. Would I be overstepping my bounds by requesting Sergeant Valeri take his place?"
"How recently was he promoted?"
"About ten seconds ago."
The Admiral stood and smiled. "Of course. I may need an escort of bodyguards to deliver the transfer order, though."
"Why is that?"
The admiral looked at the floor, solemnly. "The Angels wouldn't leave her side while she was bleeding out on the flight deck. During her recovery, any Angel not on duty or asleep stood vigil. When she went to pay her respects to Daniel's parents, every Black Angel fighter that could fly, did. The Wildcards brought the Joker's Wild in, as well. It was the largest honor guard in OnyxCorps' history. I'm afraid the Angel's are not going to give her up without a fight."
"Admiral, command of the Archangel detail is the highest form of gratitude I can offer her."
"I know, sir. She will, too. But, Rock One will be losing one of her Angels. If the request had come from anyone but you, I would have waged a one-man war to prevent it happening."
The businessman smiled, warmly. "I'm glad it didn't come to that."
The Admiral returned the genuine smile. "So am I, Mr. Hammer. So am I."