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A cold, dead smile grinned up at Rika with a stone-like complexion. It was a frightful sight: somewhere between undead and mentally disturbed. The bland, grey concrete had been perfectly smooth when she had started hours before. Now at least this small patch had character. From a rather wide depression dug to the side she had moulded a nose that rose up from the newly formed basement floor, then lips, and a brow. She had carved small depressions beneath her brow and formed eyes, etching iris's into the hardening mixture. With a stick and a large nail she had scratched the outline of her face into the concrete, added hair, roughed up areas for shading, and tamped out shallow ears.

That had been early this morning. She had left when she had grown bored and drifted onward to her friend's house. Now the sun was sliding out of the sky, collapsing into the river bluffs to the west for it's daily death. The cement had set up, and her face was almost permanent. She had stopped on the way home to scratch her initials into the artificial stone. She imagined a small child finding the face in the floor beneath his house and asking his mother who R.B. was. There was something comforting in seeing her crude self-portrait and name etched in the new foundation, knowing that it would be there for many years to come. They would forever remember her here in this house, regardless of what happened to her, even if it was behind a screen of anonymity.

There was some security in her face sculpted in the hardening grey rock. Someone would remember her because of it, even if nothing else made people remember her. It certainly wouldn't be her life. She doubted that would ever amount to anything. Best case scenario she would end up as a mid-range manager in a cooperation, running the rat race until her retirement kicked in, or the angel of death granted her some grace and delivered her from the misery of that grind. She felt a little depressed at the thought. At her current rate she would never get anywhere in life. At least, those would be her father's words if he knew everything she did away from watchful eyes. True, she could do something about it, but she didn't really know what, nor did she have the motivation to change.

She picked up her backpack and stepped off the plywood board that had been her carving perch. She rolled over in her head what she should do after she graduated as she clamored up the ladder against the muddy walls and began her way back across the rising sub development. Maybe a construction worker, she could probably be that. Her constant toking up behind the football field was beginning to rear it's ugly head. Her grades had plummeted from a "B" average to near failing over the past three years. It was a habit she knew she had to quit, but that would mean quitting her only friends. That would mean being alone again, getting rejected until she found someone who didn't shun her for not being "like them". Besides, she could always quit later. After all, wasn't it better to spend your life doing something you enjoyed than to waste it on homework that got you nothing but a printed letter on a piece of paper?

"HEY! YOU!" boomed a man's angry voice, snapping Rika from her introspection.

She risked a glance over her shoulder and caught a flash of yellow hard hat and red flannel. He was standing at the edge of the foundation she had just improved. She bounded over the formers, up the embankment, and took off through the worksite at a dead sprint.

"STOP!"

Shit! The construction team worked nights, they didn't show until at least six. What the fuck were they doing here this early?

To make matters worse that voice and flannel could only be Ernie Blemmer, the contractor who happened lived across the street from them. He was well known for being a hard man, unforgiving and rather grumpy.

She took off down the uneven dirt road, sliding a bit in the loose gravel as she rounded a corner and gave an extra burst of speed. The new road that was being built for the development ended, giving way to the cracked and battered pavement of the city. Just past the next corner was an ally that led past Jackie's back yard. She didn't think Ernie had caught her face, if she managed to duck down the ally she'd be home free.

She threw a glance over her shoulder to gauge how far behind her she had left the short man. His heavy figure could be made out about a block back, huffing and puffing while chugging after her. Hah! She would make the ally with ease.

Unless, of course, her legs slammed into something while the rest of her continued to move forward. She slid over the hood of the vehicle, landing none too gracefully on her skull in the gutter on the other side. Stars flowered in her vision, and the world spun.

She stared up at the pristine white and silver front of a large sedan that refused to stay still, swaying back and forth while spinning slightly. There was something familiar about this vehicle, something she should know about it... She swam through the fog of her mind, hoping the daze would end soon. She was in a hurry, but why? This car was important too, there was something about this particular make and model that she should recognize....

A younger, clean shaven man with dark hair, wearing a dark blue uniform and a utility belt adorned with a holster and radio stepped in front of her. There was a concerned look on his face.

"Hey kid, are you all right? Christ, you ran right into me!"

There was a glint of sunlight of something large and silver on his left breast as a beefy man in red flannel came up beside him.

Squad car, she realized, that's what the sedan was.

She felt herself sink as the came to the conclusion of what that news meant for her situation.

The world must be joking with her. Her adoptive father Matt would be livid when he found out. Out of all the lousy luck in the world...

---

1200 - Join Naval Air Station Lemoore California

The unbearably hot California sun beat down hard from the highest point in the sky, shadows disappearing beneath the giant wings of the fighter aircraft parked wingtip to wingtip. Eve wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead as she worked her way into the sweltering G-suit and survival vest, zipping up the leggings and chest protector with a grunt. The hundred and ten degree heat seemed to make even something as easy as pulling a zipper up much harder then it truly was. It was no death valley, but most agreed with her that the "move three feet and sweat" rule was a good indicator that it was freaking warm out. Pulling her shoulder length brown hair back behind her ears she slipped on her helmet, pushing the HUD visor up and out of the way. Looking to her left under the wing, her "punishment" had been standing and waiting in the shade patiently, or was it hesitantly? She couldn't tell.

Thinking back, the poor kid had endured hours of safety lectures, water survival tests, and endless flight testing evaluations to take a forty five minute trip in what she'd always thought was a pile of shit. A flying pile of bolts held together with duck tape, paper clips and bubblegum, all bought from the cheapest store on earth. Military surplus at its finest. Managing to beat down the smirk struggling across her lips, she closed up her helmet bag and waved him closer.

"You ready for this kid?"

The teenager nodded slowly and struggled against the invading myriad of buckles on the brand new starched and pressed flight suit. The green contrasted sharply with the slightly faded tan of the her own gear, but it wasn't like it mattered once they were up there anyway. She could tell he was trying hard to ignore the discomfort the of the heat and new gear.

"Alright then! Go ahead and grip the ladder like this with two hands. Three points of contact like airman Johnson told you." She grabbed the ladder hand over hand to demonstrate. "Now once your up there, always keep a hand on something. This things always at eight to ten feet off the ground, so slipping is a real risk up there. I can't take you back to your mom and dad with a broken arm." She laughed moving aside.

The boy smiled a bit, a small blush painting his forehead as he fought to hide it. Eve thought she could almost hear his heart beating in his chest as she watched him plant a hand on the ladder. With shaky legs he made his way slowly up, stopping at the top and looking around the flight line.

"There's around sixty super hornets from four different squadrons on station, but off to your right," She pointed out across the runway at a myriad of black dots. "Is another flight line full of the Lightning two's, Raptor two's, and those new F-15's that I'm sure your instructor told you about."

"Why are they separate?" He asked.

"It's more a difference of standards really. The chair force thinks they're better then everyone else, so of course we've got to give them their own flight line." She paused to see if he understood the jab at their sister service, but when he looked back down at her she could tell it just didn't translate. "Uh, alright then, go ahead and make your way back to the rear cockpit like how I showed you in the hangar and just sit tight for a moment. Don't get in yet."

Shaking the hand of the plane captain, Eve did a final look around before making her way up the ladder. Once she was seated on the ledge just beyond the cockpit, she stood and grabbed the open canopy, bracing herself. The ladder went up with a loud crunch that startled the boy, but before he had a chance to let go, she was there behind him with a hand on his survival jacket.

"Whoa there, gotcha! Go ahead and take a seat, but don't step on it. Those rocket motors will fire you right through the canopy. Great! Now remember what we talked about?"

He looked down between his legs at the yellow loop with black bands. "This isn't a hand hold when we go upside down?"

"Exactly! Well, not unless your willing to practice your skydiving skills..." She let her voice trail off as the boys eyes grew wide. "Just relax kiddo." She said patting his shoulder. "Nothing too bad is gonna happen as long as your riding with me."

He nodded and slowly reached for the camera in the pocket at his thigh. Fishing it out, he managed to snap a shot as she went about pre-checking her own seat. The picture came out a bit blurry, but he was still able to make out clearly what he took it for.

"Ell Tee Jay Jee Evelyn Scout Sadok." Not realizing he'd said it aloud, he looked up and over the displays in front of him only to find she was already in her seat and ready to go.

"Just call me Scout, it's a bit easier to remember." For a split second he thought he could detect the smallest hint of malice, but it disappeared as she yelled over her shoulder. "Alright, now push the plug into the slot on the seat so that you don't suffocate when we're at altitude." There was a metallic click and then a loud screech as he fought the urge to rip the helmet off. Seconds later a static hum filled the headset built in. "Can you hear me?"

"Lo... Loud and clear." he stuttered.

"So what do I call you, eh?"

"Call me?"

"Yeah, I can't call you Maximilian all day, unless you want me to."

"No, Max is fine."

"Ah really? No call signs or anything you've seen in the movies like Top Gun 2 or something?" There was a brief pause as he thought it over before Eve watched him shake his head in her mirror. "Max it is then. Hows about we get this show on the road?"

Turning to her right she waved three fingers and the mechanic on the ground mimicked the action, pointing at the back of the plane. The engines, or at least that's what they sounded like, started to spool up one after the other until the noise drowned out everything except the communications. Lots of communications. Jumbled words and phrases that meant nothing to the boy, but obviously a language that Eve was well versed in. A few minutes later the cockpit was coming to life as the different panels and displays in front of them flickered on.

"If you look in front of you you'll see four TVs, or what we call 'multi function displays', in a 'T' shape. Each one can be swapped around to display anything you want, at any time in regards to the aircraft. The biggest one, bottom center, is what we usually do most of our work on. I'll pull up the radar so you can see it working." Sure enough, the screen brought up a series of green arcs, with a single line scanning from left to right, and a few dots marked with x's. "That's pretty much the meat and potatoes of the radar. Most of the advanced stuff is used when we're tracking individual missiles. Pretty similar to the stuff you see in movies."

"Definitely." He looked to his left and right around him in the surprisingly roomy cockpit. This wasn't like the movies at all. "What are the handle grips for?"

"The stick on the left is for sensor control. The stick on the right is for hot switching between the displays."

"You mean I can't fly the plane from back here?"

"Unfortunately for you, no. They're for something pilots like to call 'Hands On Throttle And Stick', or HOTAS. Instead of the guy in the backseat having to punch through endless menus with the buttons next to the display, they can pull up what they want with a flick of a button. Sort of like shortcuts on a computer."

Eve watched as he leaned around the back of her seat to raise an eyebrow.

"How do you remember all of this? I mean, there's just so much stuff here."

She laughed as she punched in a few GPS waypoints from memory. "I remember because I do this every day. I bet there's a lot of things you take for granted in your daily routine, stuff you don't notice you do that would seem complicated to someone else." She said tapping her helmet. "Your brain is a muscle. Flexing it every now and then is a good way to keep your butt out of a smoking hole in the ground. Watch your head!" She looked up and pointed at the canopy. Pulling his arms into his lap he watched as the large glass bubble met the frame, cutting off most of the engine noise. "Oh! I almost forgot; wanna see something cool?" She asked.

"What else could there be?"

"Put your right hand on the right stick grip and hit that funny d-pad looking thing to the right. Watch your middle display when you do it."

He did as told and watched as the radar flickered away, replaced by a clear as day camera image of the front nose wheel landing gear.

"It takes pictures?" He asked unimpressed.

"Oh it does so much more then that! On the left stick, there should be two rubber buttons on top that move in all directions. Try messing around with the left one a little."

The picture bounced around uncontrollably for a second before stabilizing. Pushing the button left panned the camera that way, and he soon discovered in wasn't any normal camera he'd ever operated. It moved in all directions showing him places under the belly and next to the plane, including the friendly wave of the maintainer checking the plane. It wasn't until he tried zooming in however, that he realized how "not like a camera" it was.

"You're zoomed in on a warehouse almost six miles away. It'd take you close to three hours to walk that far." Eve said. "You can swap between three different visual light settings, and a myriad of other interesting combat related things, but I'll let you play with that later."

"This is, this is amazing!"

"Wait till we get up in the air kiddo. That's when you'll really appreciate that thing."

"My dad's never gonna believe this!"

"You've still got your 'illegal' camera right?" She watched in amusement as panic forced the camera down into his lap quickly. "Let's just say that I never saw it as long as you don't take any more pictures of my ass okay?"

"But! I didn't... Yes ma'am."

"Good boy. I'm gonna close this video pod so we can take off. I don't want another deer blasting that four million dollar toy to hell again."

Eve swore she could hear him swallow through his mask.

"Raider one zero, clear for taxi and departure via runway three two right. Unrestricted climb permitted to flight level one five zero. " A male voice interrupted.

"Copy One Zero, taxi depart three two right, unrestricted, one five zero." Eve repeated back without hesitation..

The teenager suddenly felt his heart jump into his throat as the jet lurched forward.

"Ready for this?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Good answer. I'm not pulling over."

He sat back into the seat trying not to clench his stomach. The end of the runway came up fast as they left the taxiway, and he was now gripping the two handles so hard his knuckles were white.

"Raider one zero clear for departure."

"Alright kiddo, last chance! Speak now or forever hold your peace."

"I don't this is a-"

"You think you can do it? Alright!"

There wasn't time to argue as he was pressed firmly into his seat, a shuttering roar and vibration making his stomach tie itself in knots. Slowly, the runway markers started passing the cockpit until they were going by too fast to read.

"One hundred." Eve read out. "One fifty. One seventy. Ready to go flying?"

"What are we doing now!?"

"Here we go!"

The runway ended in a blur as they picked up speed, but he was sure something was wrong. They were still only a few feet off the ground. He could see parts of the bushes and plants that lined the desert floor they were so close. Was something wrong? Were they going to crash? Did he mess something up? Did she?

More thoughts flooded his mind like lightning, but left just as quickly as his head was suddenly forced down into his crotch. His vision blackened only for a second, but it left him dazed. Looking to his right, it took him a while to figure out he was heading straight up into the clouds, instead of on a gentle climb, like he'd seen the other planes do.

The world spun about the cock pit and was suddenly upside down, then right side up again in a flash.

"Congratulations Max, you're three miles above the earth, higher then any of your friends have ever gone before."

"I think-"

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm gonna be sick..."

She turned around in her seat to see the boys green face and cursed under her breath. "Just relax okay? I'll keep her steady for the next few minutes so your stomach settles." She hadn't meant to make the poor kid sick.

"Ugh... I don't think- I don't think I can keep it down."

She winced and turned back to her controls. Setting the autopilot to maintain level flight she reached into a pocket on her leg and grabbed a small paper bag. Unbuckling her restraints Eve turned as far as she could in her seat. "Here, its a sick bag with some medication in it that'll settle your stomach. Just breath in, its like that vapo-rub stuff."

Max took the bag reluctantly, embarrassment keeping him from making eye contact. "Thanks."

Eve shot him a smile of understanding and turned back around. A few breaths later and his stomach had felt just as it did before he left the ground.

"Better?"

"I think so." He said shakily

"Good, because we've been flying upside the last few seconds, and I didn't want to ruin the surprise."

Max looked up, only to find he was looking straight down through the clouds.

"I think I'll need another bag..."

---

*****

She had tried to talk about it. She told him she was sorry. Matt remained silent as they walked into the small, ranch-style house they called home. He hadn't spoken since posting her bail. The drive home had been torture, with guilt threatening to split her body open. She had explained that she would earn the money to pay for repairing the basement, but he hadn't said a word in return. Not even a grunt. He wasn't just mad, he was hurt. That made things worse.

She glanced at herself in the mirror that hung on the end of the cabinets in the kitchen. Her shoulder length dark brown hair was wild from her ordeal. Her face was smudged with dirt from her fall, and there was a bruise forming on her forehead where she had landed on it. Brown eyes cut into her -she hated that face, but only because it was her own.

In the living room, Matt was removing his shoes in his recliner. He motioned for Rika to have a seat on the sofa when an eerie tone began playing. She sat on the edge of the sofa and wrapped her arms across her stomach while he answered the phone.

"Hello?" he asked. Why he never bought caller ID was beyond her. The phone was archaic, but even if he didn't want a new model it wasn't like the additional unit or service was expensive.

"Ehy. Yes Saska, I already know what this is about. No, I told you before, I'm not interested. You twisted my arm into working for you before, and I don't want to do it again. I don't care if the job is different.... So what if you pay me that much? It's not like I can use it to buy food or heat my home... Fine, whatever... Yeah, I'll call you if I do. Bye."

Matt set the phone down on the coffee table before running his hand through his hair, "Rika... what am I going to do? You know better than to do something like that. Hell, you're almost an adult, not a fourteen year old kid. Why? Ernie said they have to replace that whole foundation now. It's set him back over a week."

She stared at her feet, feeling his eyes on her. He never asked questions like this. Often times she wished he had, but she wasn't sure how to answer them now that he had. She took a deep breath an forced herself to look him in the eye.

"I wanted there to be people who would remember me."

Matt was leaning back in his chair, looking thoughtful. For a moment she wondered if he had even been listening to her.

"Is that it?" he asked. She nodded.

"Rika, if you want people to remember you then do something that will make them never forget you. A name and face carved in concrete is just that- shapes without meaning in something that will eventually wear away and crumble. People remember deeds, and deeds take far longer to erode into dust than anything you could make physically."

"But what can I do?"

"Anything you want, Rika. What you do will reflect how people remember you. The only advice I can give you is to change who you are. This isn't the Rika I got to know two years ago. The Rika I know doesn't carelessly deface other people's property. She strives to do something good, instead of just wasting her enormous potential by skipping class in the empty lot behind the grocery."

"It's who I am," she shot back, "I'm not changing it just because you don't like it."

"You don't have a choice."

"Oh? And how do you plan to force me?"

"I don't have any part in it, Rika. Change is the only law in nature that everything must abide by."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't know where you get that from. But here, on this world, there is nothing that can, or will make me want to change who I am."

He looked thoughtful for a few minutes before he picked up his phone again and dialed a number.

"Saska? Good. I've had some second thoughts, and I think we might be able to work some things out- Yes... Oni, I'll do it all right--you talked me into it--but I need something from you... Etsh-" And with that he fell into a guttural language. He spoke it sometimes when talking on the phone, though never to her. She had never been able to figure it out, and he always changed the subject when she brought it up. Harmless as it seemed, it did make her wonder sometimes if the man was all there upstairs.

Minutes dragged by. He was clearly ignoring her now, and she wondered if he even listened to her when she talked. Eventually she asked to be excused to the bathroom, and Matt waved her off. So she got up and left, eventually finding herself in her room. She pulled back the loose baseboard next to the door and drew out a lighter, a small piece of glassware and the plastic sandwich bag that her life had begun to revolve around since the school year had begun several months ago.

She slid the clunky window open that overlooked the porch roof. The counterweight was broken, so she propped it open with a small board that she kept for the exact purpose. She enjoyed the peace on the roof. Matt didn't care if she sought her solitude up there, as long as it was above freezing and wasn't wet.

She lay back on the asphalt shingles, lifting the hood up on her jacket before she rested her head on the roof. The briskness of the breeze caught her off guard. She clutched the bong and the bag to her chest and let out a sigh. She might feel like the only person on the face of an over-crowded planet, but at least she had herself, and she wasn't about to let her go.

Rika stared up into the stars, letting the vast hugeness of the universe crush her into the suddenly tiny fleck of dirt that was Earth. As she stared into space, the loneliness seemed to become overwhelming. Even Matt, who she knew genuinely cared and was the closest thing to family she could knew of, felt distant. As her eyes caught a meteor, and then a satellite, she wondered if there was some place out there where she would feel loved, accepted, and at home. As her eyes lazily tracked the satellite across the sky, she was jerked from her thoughts as a single realization suddenly hammered panic into her mind:

The satellite had stopped moving.

She couldn't tear her eyes away from it, though she didn't know if that was from some fear of loosing it again among the stars or the paralyzation that seemed to grip her body. As she watched the speck of light began moving again, this time in a new direction. It lingered for a few more seconds before fading from the sky all together. Rika threw the bag off the roof. She had just seen that stone cold sober. Either the weed was having a prolonged effect on her psyche, or something was up there.

---

*****

She fidgeted nervously, the hard courtroom bench making her rock side to side trying to find a comfortable position. Eleven thousand in damages and fines, a mountain of paperwork and a night in jail, just for marking a little concrete! Even worse, if she didn't pay it within a month she would have to go to a detention center. The sound of the gavel was as harsh as a cell door slamming shut. It might as have been. She sure didn't have that kind of money and she knew Matt well enough to know he would let her suffer her own doing.

Her father stood, "I'll pay the fine, your honor, as she cannot your honor."

Rika breathed a sigh of relief, which was quickly replaced with shock. No juvy, which made her feel like the gods above had opened the heavens and bestowed their blessing on her like a broken dam of goodness. Maybe there was a God, after all...

She recalled the time he had shoved her away from an irritable horse. She had been volunteering at a barn several years ago, back when she had been interested in horses. She hadn't been paying attention, and had inadvertently stepped behind an ill tempered gelding named "Thumper". Matt had been right behind her, and had seen the horse's hip drop. She crumpled into a wheelbarrow full of manure from the collision. At first she had been angry, but that was quickly quenched when she saw Matt nursing a dislocated knee. Perhaps he had felt enough mercy to break his own code of 'sleeping in the bed you made'?

She knew he loved her, but this was still unlike him. His methods of punishment were far from being abusive, but that didn't mean they weren't sadistic. Splitting three chords of wood over two days in late January had been an agonizing experience, even if it had provided their wood operated furnace with enough fuel to last until mid December of the next year. Her shoulders had been sore for days afterwards that, and she thought her hands would never be the same again.

In front of her, the Jury was standing, and the judge was getting ready to leave.

"I think you are making a mistake," said the judge. "she won't learn from her mistakes otherwise."

Matt only smiled, "I know what I'm doing."

The judge sighed, suddenly looking very tired. "That choice is yours," he said, "just make sure I never see her in her in front of my bench again unless she's acting as the council." He trudged from the courtroom, closing the door behind him.

After the judge left the room her father turned to her, "But you aren't out of dodge yet. I'm not letting this go with just a grounding and some hard work. I will not have a criminal for a daughter."

Oh? What else are you going to do, beat me?

He might have been strict as hell, but she knew he would never lay a finger on her. His punishments were usually in the form of a stern talking to that ended with her feeling like shit and ashamed and possibly some crappy hard work, like pulling leaves out of the gutters in late November. He might threaten, but it usually never amounted to anything more. Still, the jobs he came up with... She cringed, the memory of the last time she had been caught ditching school surfaced. Painfully cold fingers and balancing on a slippery ladder while pulling frigid, soaked, rotting leaves out of the gutter of the house for hours the following cold Saturday morning were even now still fresh in her mind.

---

***

Lemoore, CA : 1900 - End of day flight operations. Beginning of night qualifications.

Foss looked troubled. He was standing in the flight equipment shop, quietly hanging up his G-suit and vest like he usually did. His tall figure almost allowed him to look over the tops of the lockers, his brown hair brushing against a large chunk of the gypsum ceiling that hung down in one of the many places inside the dilapidated maintenance department. Come to think of it, he didn't look any different than he normally did. His face was relaxed and blank. He looked deep in thought, but that was somewhat normal for the lieutenant.

Still, there was something wrong. After being stationed everywhere with the man since the beginning of flight school she was beginning to just know.

"Something eatin' ya?" she asked, slipping in between the racks of flight gear behind him. He looked up at her as she set her helmet on it's shelf.

"You and I have orders to Ninety Four."

"Ha! That's ridiculous." She said with a curt hiss. "They're suppose to be knee deep in a world wide cruise in three weeks! We're not even done with carrier training yet!"

Foss nodded. "Ruffles said we would be given an accelerated last two weeks to finish everything up and get our minimum qualifications, then we'd transfer a couple days before they left."

"So much for fair warning right?"

Foss shrugged.

A third voice broke in, "Mother fucking career jammer..."

The two turned to see the sergeant, a parachute rigger who had been sitting quietly at his desk the whole time. He was a wide-chested man, his dark complexion and small brown eyes added to his intense looking expression. An oxygen mask lay disassembled in front of him.

"What?" asked Foss, more out of obligation then curiosity.

"Sorry sir," he replied, "I'm playing the 'change my orders at the last minute' game. My wife is two months pregnant and with our deployment schedule well... I just never get to see her. He got me orders to three fourteen, said they wouldn't be deploying any time soon."

"So?"

"Let me just put it this way; wherever ninety four goes, three fourteen goes." The marine rubbed his brow in frustration "The two squadrons haven't missed a carrier deployment together in nearly a hundred years. Our stuff is still on its way to our new address, and there's no way to change my orders now that they've gone all the way up the chain of command."

Eve flinched. Foss's expression remained unchanged as his brow creased.

"I can say something to-"

The sergeant held his hand up and shook his head. Leaning back in his seat he clasped his hands behind his head. "No, it's fine sir. As much as I hate being away from my family, we could use the money, and I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have a problem with it.

"At least, after I let it all sink." He added.

"You haven't told her yet?" Eve wondered aloud.

"Lieutenant, have you ever tried giving bad news to a woman who's pregnant? Whose hormonal imbalance causes something just short of an explosion? I'm just trying to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. "

"Well, if and when you do decide to-"

A voice from the door interrupted him.

"And if you ever neglect to tell me I'm being that fucking stupid again, I'll kick my own ass! Got me?" The pilot, a bit older then the two, laughed as he yelled out the door into the hangar bay. He was still fully dressed in all of his flight gear, with the helmet bags and gear loads of two other pilots stuffed tight under his arms. He looked at the three inside with a huge smirk and set the gear down on a large table in the corner. "What's up guys?"

Eve crossed her arms and sighed, "Marcus, what the hell was that about?"

"What?" He asked innocently.

"Kicking your own ass?"

"Ah! Yeah well, don't argue with maintenance about leaky red stuff coming out of the back of the jet."

"What did you say?" She asked, curious now.

"Something along the lines of, 'Nah, It'll still fly."

The sergeant behind the desk stifled a laugh before walking over to the table and collecting the extra gear. He read off the name tags in order. "Capt Dalmer, Major Richards. They couldn't bring their own gear in here?"

"Had a meeting to get to." Marcus said as he set his bags down in front of the locker marked "Gabbe" and shucked off his flight gear. "I didn't want to tag along with those douche bags anyway. Carrying their gear was a small pot hole in the road to..." He scratched his chin in thought. "Awe fuck it. I just didn't want to have to hang out with them anymore."

Eve rolled her eyes. "How was the seminar?"

He looked at her and shrugged.

"Bunch of talking heads with the tin chicken on their collar. Nothing I'd write home about in fact."

"Nothing new from Lockheed?" Foss asked.

"They've got some new pod that can laze targets like ten miles away. Fuck, the thing talks! They also say the new Growler mods will have the new A.I. the chair force integrated five years ago."

"A.I.?" The sergeant asked with a hint of concern in his voice. "Is that safe?"

Eve shrugged. "I think so. Quantum computers are more plentiful then peanuts nowadays, and even my phone tells me verbally that it appreciates when I thank it for deleting my read emails." She leaned back against the set of lockers with her her hands clasped in front of her. "To tell you the truth, I've always been sort of a nerd about these things."

The group looked at each other then back at her knowingly.

"What?"

"Dude, Eve no offense, you're like the egghead of eggheads." Foss winced, but Marcus continued. "Pisses me off that they'd send me to some big headed sci-fi convention instead of you."

A quiet rumble interrupted them. Four blue afterburner cones illuminated the dark end of the runway through the small shops window, eventually growing to a deafening roar. When the noise passed, Eve cleared her throat.

"I've been stuck here for internal review since last month when... Well, when that happened." She admitted. "You already know why I put in word for you to go anyway."

Marcus snorted as he looked to the ceiling. "Never woulda thought swimming around in a shit can full of fifty other dudes could have translated to anything in aviation. I mean, we were the furthest from flying you could possibly be." The whimsical look on his face, was slowly replaced by frustration. "Radar tech in a sub has nothing to do with flying, Eve."

"You were a submariner sir?" The sergeant asked.

"Yeah, low life enlisted even." He said with a laugh. "Made it to a second class before I said fuck it. A year later and there I was, knee deep in the shit again, only I had some shiny stuff on my shoulders."

Eve smiled. "As unlikely as it sounds, miracles do happen."

"Don't you have a man to get home to?" Marcus jabbed.

"Jealous?"

"Sorry babe, he's not my type."

"You don't know what you're missing Marcus."

"Hey, dudes just don't make nice with me lady. Anyway; I'm out. See you two bright and early Monday."

Foss exchanged good nights to the two pilots as they left on their way home. He still had duty tonight.

"I'm heading home sir, you need anything else?"

"No. Have a good weekend."

Never having been a man of many words, Foss said only what really needed to be said. He enjoyed the peace of mind that avoiding most of the obligatory ego boosting left him in good standing with the people that truly mattered. It was taxing to have to appeal to an officer of higher rank for something like promotions, good reports, or change of station orders. He didn't need to do any of that, nor would he stoop to that level for himself.

"No dating the banker's daughter for a key to the safe." He said to himself with a silent chuckle.

The space had grown a bit quiet, so turning on the radio he'd expected at least some kind of music to flip through. What he heard caught his attention though.

"-And in the middle east today, talks with the Iranian envoy have broken down almost completely, and Iran has once again ceased talks with US officials concerning the military no fly zones in the gulf of Aden, and lower Arabian Sea, blaming the United States and it's allies for the disappearances of several of it's naval cruisers. Iraqi officials have gone to emergency conference as further reports of Iranian Carriers bound north from the Gulf of Oman have Kuwaiti's once again packing their bags and boarding up shop. US presence is almost expected in the gulf as tensions between the two nations continue to rise. -In other news, strange aircraft have been sighted over the island of Okinawa-"

"Escalation." He said worriedly.

---

Rika was sitting in her room that evening, reading an old comic book she had forgotten under her bed. She wondered how many years it had been there. There was a knock on her door and she grunted, putting the book down to face the intruder. Her father was standing in the door way, holding her empty school backpack.

"Here, put what you want to bring into this" he said, tossing her schoolbag onto her bed.

"No electronics, no drugs, no porn." he continued, counting off on his fingers. "I suggest something to read or do to pass the time and keep yourself occupied. Oh, and they'll go through your stuff, so don't even think about it," he nodded towards where Rika had her weed tucked away under the bottom drawer of the built-in. The room had no appearance of being searched at all, and she briefly wondered what else he had found.

"Be ready in an hour," he added, turning to go.

She sat there in shock. Her relief of escaping jail in the courtroom that morning was gone, and had been replaced with a horror that he had picked out a place on his own to send her. Knowing him he had probably thought the public option was too soft, or maybe she was going to a military school. She thought hopefully at the last option over the other choices. It would be better than jail with a bunch of high schoolers, or plain bad kid camp. She always thought the stuff like running through the obstacle courses looked like a lot of fun.

She looked up to ask him where he was sending her, but a solid oaken thud from the door signaled her father leaving, trusting her to pack her own things. Her heart sank. This was it. He was getting rid of her, washing his hands of the burden while saving himself some face.

She sank onto the bed, tears welling up in her eyes. She kind of had it coming, all the weed she had done behind the warehouse when she should have been doing other things, like actually turning in the occasional piece of homework, or even most of it. Her pathetic grades and caustic attitude she had maintain for the past few years didn't make her someone people would want to keep around either. She wished she hadn't done what she had. She wished her mom hadn't left her. She wished she had the guts to run away.

Yet her dad had observed the poor grades, evidently knew about the weed and had been the target of many an attitude and snide remark over the past few years, and she wondered if this had been coming for a while now anyway. Maybe this had been just the excuse he needed.

Her address book, that sci-fi novel she had always intended to read, her journal, a sketch pad, and a few assorted pens and pencils, that was it. She fingered her cell phone for a while before tossing it into the backpack. At the worst she'd get it back when she got out.

---

When Ira looked back up at the clock again he sighed. Midnight already. Most of the noise from the hangar had quieted to a few errant swears from the lone maintainers finishing their shift. Deciding to break from the norm, he made his way out to the hangar deck, curious to see what type of people hung around the "beasts" after dark. Lieutenant Foss hadn't made it a step out the door before he was interrupted by the prehistoric cell phone vibrating in his pocket. Picking the brick out of his pocket he swore as the display flickered out then back on again.

"Lieutenant Foss, GDO." He said curtly.

The corporal muttered a few words, followed by some that the young aviator had never expected to hear outside of the cockpit.

"Dead on impact..."

The lieutenant let his shoulders slump visibly as a young marine and sailor trudged by with a noisy toolbox. The Marine stopped, concerned, but Foss only waved him away.

"I'll be right there. Tell the duty driver to head back and pick up the XO, I'm headed up there now."

With that, Foss bounded for the double doors, kicking them open and almost ripping the door off the gray van parked nearby.

---

*****

They had been walking in the dark forest for hours now. She had been expecting to get in the car and to be dropped of at some facility, or possibly left at the bus station with a ticket in hand. When her dad had announced that they were going for a hike she was relieved, happily ditching her backpack to go with him on one last walk in freedom.

Her father had a habit of night time strolls into the national forest that bordered their medium sized town. Often times Rika would go with of her own free will, simply to enjoy the peacefulness of the night forest. Other times he would make her go with, especially after she had gotten into trouble, and lecture her, using her own conscious to grind at her for the duration of the hike.

This time was different. They had been gone far longer than usual for one of his midnight escapades. She had been expecting a long, painful talk as they walked, but since there had been none she eventually grew curious as to where they were going. Now that she had asked she wasn't sure if the answer even made sense. It was almost as if he were mocking her.

"I'm what?!!" she yelled.

"Enlisting in the Rakkan armed force," he replied calmly. "It'll get you into shape, teach you an array of skills, give you an opportunity to be remembered, and hopefully straighten you out." Her father's cheerful mood burned her like hot grease.

"You can't make me do that!" she spat, "I can't enlist until for another year, and that country doesn't even exist!"

"In the court room, did you read everything you signed like the lawyer and I told you to?"

"Yes..."

"Bullshit," he turned around to look at her, the folded paper he waved contrasted the dark forest in the moonlight. "It's not even in english, yet you still signed it! If you don't want to listen to me that's fine, eventually you'll learn that I just want the best for you."

"You bastard!" she growled. "Your making all that up, and you forged that signature!" she screamed, tearing the paper from his hands and shredding it up along the path. The trail of confetti glowed in the moonlight behind her.

Her dad didn't seem the least disturbed.

"That was your copy. If you want another you'll have to ask them. I was going to go though the trouble of translating it too-"

"Aw, cut the shit," she snapped, he temper beginning to cool, "I might have gotten shitty grades but I paid enough attention in geography to know that your Rakkadia or whatever is all in your head, and definitely not on the globe."

Her father kept strolling down the path, but pointed to the heavens.

"I never said it was on Earth,"

Rika's jaw dropped in shock. Her arms sagged, her knees quivered, and her bladder threatened to become distracted from it's duties. Above them something monstrous and oblong slowly blocked out the stars and was about to pass over the moon.