Chapter One - A good day to die.
To say that she was surprised to be called to her flight instructor's office three weeks before graduation was an understatement. What had she done wrong? For the past three years and seven months, she had been nothing but the model cadet. Her flying was textbook, she never contradicted an order, never questioned the seemingly endless string of pointless exercises. The Academy was her ticket to leaving her former life behind, to getting off world and out amongst the stars. Gods what more did these people want from her? Her knock echoed throughout the empty corridor.
"Enter." The Colonel's harsh tone caused her shoulders to sink even further before she pulled herself together. Opening the door she snapped to attention, arm raised in salute, booted heels snapping together, eyes straight ahead.
"Cadet Madera, please have a seat." Turning to do as requested she noticed that two other men were already occupying chairs across from the large wooden desk. One was Admiral Michael Oliver the head of the Colonial Fleet Investigative Service. The other was her fellow cadet, Karl Agathon. Clarice didn't know if it was possible for her face to fall much further as she took her seat. CFIS must have found out that she had forged her enlistment papers. Oh Gods had Karl somehow found out about her secret?
"Cadet, it would appear you have been withholding some key information about your past." The Admiral's voice was deep and harsh, the kind of voice that demanded attention without even trying. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"No, sir." It was a struggle to keep her voice even and she was only moderately successful. She couldn't handle this, couldn't deal with having all her pre-Academy indiscretions thrown back in her face. Her future may be over, but there was no way that she was going to cry in front of these men. "Sir, I'll just go pack my things, and be out of your hair in an hour." Snapping off another salute, slightly shocked as she disobeyed an order for the first time even if it was just something as simple as 'sit down.' She was halfway to the door before Phillips called her back.
"Sit down Cadet! Your career here at the Academy may be over but the Admiral has an interesting proposition I think you should hear."
"The Colonel is correct and I would appreciate if you would hear me out." The Admiral was speaking before she had even set her feet in motion and continued to speak without acknowledging her murmured "Yes, sir."
"Clarice Madera may have been credited by a priestess of Artemis who had more computer knowledge then she should, but that doesn't change the fact that you are among the top pilots in your class. Yes you lied. Should you be punished? Most definitely. However, CFIS just happens to be in the market for superb pilots who can assume another's identity. Are you following me Cadet?"
"Yes, sir." So CFIS wanted to recruit her? She worked hard to stomp out the hope that was blossoming in her chest. It wouldn't do to get excited over nothing, not until she knew what was really going on here.
"CFIS fears that a dangerous situation has been developing, but our current intelligence has been coming up with nothing but speculation and dead ends. What we need is a deep cover agent who would be able to move freely and not have any previous ties to the Service. I'm not going to sugar coat the situation Cadet, this is a high risk and a high stakes game. You could be under for years. I can't even read you into the details until after you've agreed to the mission."
Deep cover? She almost couldn't keep the smirk off her lips. The Admiral was right she did have experience, after all what had she been living for the past six and a half years. Only problem was that she clearly wasn't all that good at it if three weeks shy of her goal her deception had been discovered. But who was she to turn away this gift, what some might even call a miracle, a second chance. The Fleet still wanted her, still needed her. Apparently they needed pilots, and flying was all she ever truly wanted to do.
The Colonel was looking at her expectantly, awaiting an answer, an answer that would seal the fate of her future. The Admiral seemed content to wait it out, to allow her the luxury putting her thoughts in order.
"I'll do it. Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it." The breath she hadn't realized she had been holding left her lungs in a slow hiss.
The Colonel let out a half-hearted chuckle. "See Mike, I told you she was your girl."
"Yes you did. Well first things first Cadet Madera, you're going to have to die."
She should have seen this coming.
The day of her of her final practical flight test dawned bright and sunny. Almost as if Apollo himself had blessed the crazy-assed plan cooked up by the CFIS. If she had never met Admiral Oliver, never agreed to put her life into his hands, then today would have been the day that she earned her wings. Instead it was the day of her death. At least it was a good day to die.
The ground hanger was crowded with cadets, instructors, and ground crew. The people who she had brought into her life over the past three and a half years, the people who thought that they knew her, the people who would grieve for her if things went to plan today.
The plan itself was deceptively simple, one well placed charge behind her ejection seat timed to blow five seconds after she pulled the chair release. Pray the squibs inside her helmet worked the way they were supposed to and volia one dead cadet.
She was silent through out the pre-flight checks. But nothing abnormal there, Clarice Madera was always by the book. Always serious and professional. Why should today be any different?
Pre-flight complete, she settled into wait. Even going so far to allow her eyes to close briefly, today was going to be a really long day.
Her squadron was one of the last to break atmo over Picon, flying almost perfect formation. "Tighten it up Phillips," she barked into the comm. She couldn't help the sigh that escaped her lips after pulling the first set of manoeuvres successfully. Nothing could beat the feeling of moving through space and feeling the push of g's from her head to her toes pushing the thruster pedals.
"Blue flight you're cleared for combat landings. Call the ball."
"Triton, Madera, roger that. Combat landings. I have the ball." She had never done a combat landing outside of a sim; didn't her instructors know that she had other things to worry about today? But of course, they didn't. She grit her teeth and checked to make sure that Cameron was still flying her wing tight. The port hanger deck of the Triton seemed to be coming up way too fast.
Her skids touched down with a little more force then necessary, but not enough to dock her. Cameron wasn't so lucky hitting hard enough to bounce a good foot before reversing thrust and settling to the deck.
"Welcome to the Triton boys and girls. Stay in your birds as your moved to the launch tubes for the next part of the exercise."
It took the knuckle draggers forever and yet no time at all before she was inside a launch tube. Watching as steel gray walls were rushing past and she was slinging out the other side, back into the freedom of space.
More formations, dizzying speed, minutes ticking by. Then it was it, the moment of truth.
Atmo was rushing up at her bird. "Keep it tight and textbook people." But not so tight that I take one of you with me. She overcompensated and her nose touched the border between space and planet at the wrong angle. The bounce shuddered through the stick that she struggled to pull back enough to push her ship into a vertical spin. She allowed herself the luxury of seeing that her squad was safe before wrenching the stick sideways and letting go.
She was thrust back into her seat with enough force that reaching for her ejection lever was more than an effort. She could hear her fellow Cadets chattering through the comm., calling her name, calling for help. They weren't a particularly close group not like some of the other squadrons, and she hoped that this incident didn't mess any of them up too badly.
Her squibs burst coating the inside of her helmet and raven black hair in rich red arterial blood, as she finally grasped the yellow and black handle, felt the jar of ejection, the pain from her restraints digging into her suit, bruising her chest, her shoulders. She felt the heat of her viper exploding into a thousand pieces. The bright light obscured by the blood coating her visor, the sound absorbed but not transmitted through the space that now engulfed her.
"Madera, Raptor 423 do you read? Repeat. Madera, Raptor 423 do you read?" Agathon's voice echoed wrongly through the damaged comm. It was hard not to acknowledge, to go against all the procedures that had been drilled into her. She counted the seconds instead. One hundred, two hundred. She had reached 456 before she felt strong arms wrap around her.
Had reached eight minutes when she forced herself to hang limply in her contact's hold as the artificial gravity of the ship took hold. She showed no reaction as he pulled her soiled helmet from her head. Allowed him to check her airway, slipping a pill between her back teeth as he did, his body blocking her from prying eyes as she bit down.
"No response. She's not breathing." He relayed the information to his pilot with just the right note of panic slipping out.
She felt her breath slow even as he faked rescue breathing. Her eyelids were getting heavy as she struggled to keep them open in the mask of death. The pounding of her heart lessoning so much that she no longer worried that the beats would betray her. Rapid re-entry rocked the raptor, as Agathon felt for her now shallow pulse.
"I've got no pulse. She's still not breathing!" The panic in his voice was barely being kept at bay now.
The landing was hard, flinging her body up just as he cradled her for impact. She saw the edge of a white coat rushing into view, as a hand still encased in flight gloves reached up to gently shut her still wide eyes.
"She's dead isn't she?" His voice cracked, filled with equal parts shock, pain and failure. Agathon deserved a frakking Muse award for his performance. She held back a shiver at the cold press of a stethoscope to the chest.
"I'm afraid so son." The gruff voice of the doctor barely penetrated her rapidly closing consciousness.
It was done. Clarice Madera was dead and Kara Thrace would be reborn.