by Ava D. Dohn
* * *
‘Squadron Commander’- how bittersweet the title. Sirion had dreamed of leading a squadron of fighters against the enemy, dispensing revenge for her torture at Legion’s hands, but not this way.
First there was Captain Tzuf. His ship took a direct hit from a Depoues 49’s missile, dissolving in a white-heat explosion that scattered the TKR-17 across twenty square miles of MueoPoros’ high jungle. And now Major Terey, the squadron leader - she had been missing nearly forty-eight hours and was presumed lost.
Sirion mumbled, “I guess all it takes to be a squadron leader is to live long enough.” She turned to make her approach for the carrier deck.
‘Squadron! What squadron?’ she thought, and for good reason. In less than two weeks they had lost half their ships. Even with the four new TKF-14 replacements, the Moon Chasers’ active duty numbers were only at ten.
Sirion’s 14 limped onto the carrier’s flight deck, nearly missing the locking pads. “Gotcha, Major!” The voice over the intercom paused as a space-suited deck officer made a visual of Sirion’s ship.
A moment later the voice returned with disquieting news. “Hafta put you in isolation and check out those leaks. Sorry.”
Sirion would have stewed over the delay, but she was too tired. “Read you, tower...isolation.” She closed her eyes and drifted into a fitful sleep.
A voice blaring from the ship’s speakers woke Sirion with a start. “All set, Major. Nothing too serious. The mechanics’ crew will have you back up in ten hours. Enjoy the rest.”
Sirion complained, “I can’t wait ten hours! My squadron needs me. Do you have another ship I can use?”
“Negative, Major.” The voice calmly replied. “Group Commander Saleuo has called the Moon Chasers to stand down. Won’t need you or your scrap pile there for at least sixteen hours.”
The major unleashed a series of good-natured, not-so-veiled threats and curses. She knew the service crew chief was only funning with her, something often done to calm tense situations. A little humor was good therapy in these evil times. Still, Sirion was attached to her fighter. It was becoming a companion to her. She made one final threat. “If your hack n’ slash crew should scratch this fine new paint job, I’ll lock you in the target tug next time we have practice!”
A voice filled with mock despair begging for mercy filled the cabin. Everyone laughed.
Sirion popped the seals on the 14’s canopy. It lifted back on a hinged lever until resting upside down on the hull behind the pilot’s cabin. As she unbuckled her harness and disconnected her life support system, the voice again blared from the speaker. “Got a visitor, Patch. You’re to go to Medic Bay 4. Your party is waiting for you there.”
By this time, Sirion’s fighter had been removed from the isolation holding station and was moving into Refit Bay 6, four levels below the flight deck. As soon as the ship stopped moving, the major was out and running to catch an elevator for the medic bay, three decks below and amidships.
Sirion’s nose almost touched the elevator door as she anxiously waited its opening. With a click and hum of servos, its two leaves separated, sliding in opposite directions. The woman looked up and gasped, stumbling back, blinking in surprise. A wall of living flesh blocked the door.
“Hello!” An equally surprised Eutychus reached out to catch Sirion. “Didn’t expect to see you so soon!”
The two made quite a sight - Sirion, a demure little thing, tipping the scales at less than eight stones, while the man smiling down at her weighed over twice that plus two stone more. Broad shoulders and a height of over six and a half feet gave Eutychus an impressive appearance. He pulled Sirion from the elevator, swooping her up in his arms, crushing the girl in a loving bear hug, planting a big kiss on the woman’s lips.
Eutychus grinned from ear to ear. “I’ve missed you.”
Sirion, eyes wide with surprise, was speechless. She dangled six inches from the floor, her face an inch from her captor’s. Eventually regaining her senses, she replied, “I…I missed you, too.”
Two officers who had watched the show from a distance approached, asking if they could use the elevator or was it still occupied. Eutychus sheepishly set Sirion down, nodding the elevator was empty. Smiling, the officers passed them by and entered the machine. The doors closed, leaving the two momentarily alone.
Sirion stared up at Eutychus. “I haven’t seen you since my hospital stay in Palace City. You’ve changed. You’re different.” She looked him over. “Maybe the uniform, huh?” Then reaching up and touching the braid on his left shoulder, “Captain! Well, congratulations, Captain.”
Eutychus blushed, shaking his head. “Oh, it weren’t nothin’ important. They gave me that for saving some child from the bad guys out in the desert. Weren’t nothin’. Anybody could’ve done it. I just happened to be there.”
Sirion took his hand. “No. It was something. I remember it well. The songs you sang to me returned life to me. I nearly died, lying in the sand, hurting so.” She looked into his eyes. “I hope you will sing those songs to me again sometime, but under more pleasant circumstances.”
Blushing anew, Eutychus beamed a reply. “I’d love that. I’d love that.” Then he apologized, “I wanted to come see you, but my duties took me away but I did write. Every chance I got, I wrote you. You did get my letters, didn’t you?”
Sirion nodded, smiling, “Yes I did, and I read every one.” Then gently poking him in the belly, replied, “I’ve kept ‘em all, too. Even keep one with your picture in my fighter.”
They chatted a moment or two about little things. Then Sirion asked, “Why did you hide down here in the medic bay and not visit me while I waited for my ship to get out of isolation?”
“I wasn’t waiting for you in any medic bay!” he answered. “The field marshal has made the Sophia her current residence. We just finished setting up the army’s war room. I was told you were aboard, so I came searching to find you. That’s why I was here.”
Anxious curiosity filled Sirion’s face. She looked down the hall. “C’mon!” She yanked Eutychus’ arm, pulling him along the companionway. “Somebody’s waiting for me!”
Anticipation was running high when Sirion poked her head through the medic bay door. She scanned the room, looking for a familiar face. Over in the shadows she spied a woman sitting at a small table, her leg with a cast below the knee and wearing assorted bandages elsewhere on her body.
Sirion let out a cry. “Terey!” and hurried over to her.
Terey looked up in time to prepare for Sirion’s impassioned embrace.
Sirion held Terey, tears running down her face. “Oh my! Oh my! I thought you were gone. I had nearly given up. Oh my! Oh my!”
Eutychus remained by the passageway door, giving the two women time to renew the ritual of hope reborn, through an emotional interchange only understood and appreciated by that gender. His heart was warmed to see the joy on Sirion’s face as she cried over finding her sister still alive. Such reunions were good things and all too rare during these turbulent days. When the time was right, he intruded, only long enough to say his salutations and bid his leave, making arrangements to see Sirion later that day.
Eventually Sirion sat down across from Terey. Without waiting for the question, Terey explained what happened. “After we went in to drive the heavies from attacking the Memphis invasion fleet, my wing ship and I were put upon by fighters. We went low to escape, diving into the atmosphere. They got my wing ship and, before I could escape, put some solid rounds into mine. My cooling coils, communications, and life support systems failed. I had no choice but to drop to the surface of the planet and look for help.”
“Then my navigation system died, leaving me alone over unfamiliar terrain. The enemy hadn’t bothered to pursue me, probably thinking my ship was lost, considering the smoky tumble I was in. I finally settled down in a forest - where, I still don
’t know.”
She rubbed her cast. “Fell out of the ship trying to escape, thinking it was on fire. The next day a small sculler carrying an engineering crew spotted me. Why they were so far afield, I don’t know. Anyway, they patched my leg up, offering to take me back to base. I refused, telling them I wanted to return my ship to base if possible. They examined it, had some tools to fix it up enough to fly, and the rest is history.”
Complaining, Terey went on. “Commander Saleuo ordered me to this medic bay to be checked out. Got a real good sprain and some scratches is all, but I’ve been put under house arrest for twenty-four hours. Haven’t even found out about my fighter yet.”
Sirion patted her on the arm. “Commander Saleuo did the right thing. You’re in no shape to fly.” She squeezed her hand, almost squealing with pleasure, “It’s so good to see you again!” Then she frowned, her voice filled with dismay. “We lost six more fighters from the Moon Chasers that day. I’ve heard that over thirty percent of all our ships engaged in the battle were lost.”
She then hung her head and spoke in a hush. “Reports are circulating that the Starlight was shot up and crashed, killing most on board. Heard that the field marshal’s chief of staff, General Tizrela, was killed.” She looked up, tears in her eyes. “It was like they knew where in the fleet to hit. They say several enemy squadrons headed right for the Starlight and the IronStone, like they knew where they were.”
Terey closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. She and Tizrela were never really close and, since the Rebellion, had often been at odds with each other. More than once, tempers had flared. Still, it was heartbreaking for Terey to think of such a wise and able leader being lost, and at such a critical time. All she could say was, “I’m sorry to hear the news.” Her eyes popped open and she asked, “What of Field Marshal Trisha? What’s been her fate?”
Sirion was quick to answer. “She wasn’t aboard. Or at least I don’t think she was.”
“How can you be so sure?” Terey squinted while asking the question. “We were told she was leading the main invasion.”
Sirion was taken aback. “Why… why… I didn’t know where she was supposed to be. All I know is that just before getting here, I met Eutychus. He’s one of Trisha’s staff officers. He said that the field marshal was using the Sophia as a base…just got done setting up a war room for her.”
The conversation was becoming rather loud, attracting the attention of others in the room. An attendant approached, inquiring if things were all right. After assuring her they were, she excused herself after asking they be more quiet. Others, though, had heard enough to draw their own conclusions. They slipped away, heading back to the communications bridge.
The two women changed the subject, bantering on about things more mundane and pleasant. After some time, Sirion said her goodbyes, kissed Terey on the lips, and headed for the officers’ lounge on deck four. Terey watched until Sirion passed through the medic bay doorway before hiding her face in folded arms and crying.