Prologue
Bree gasped as the air grew thicker, her damaged stinger drifting out beyond the area of combat. Her fingers tightened again for the millionth time over useless controls, the console dead since before the strike that knocked out her back thrusters. Her eyes watered with helpless tears, left to die this slow painful death, not even a proper death in battle like her Wing Leader. The air in her cockpit made her cough, fouled as it was with CO2. Just as the red clad pilot began to pass out the cockpit filled with light and the stinger shuddered as another vessel grabbed ahold and pulled her into its hold.
Voices spoke with soft sibilants, and Bree turned her head, trying to catch full words. A medic wearing a purple name tag stepped into view, and under her oxygen mask Bree's lip curled in disdain. Mercy merchants. She wondered how much Red Wing was going to be penalized for her 'medical recovery'. Ransoming might be a more accurate term, but, reflecting on the very near miss she just had with death, she didn't feel anger, a just lingering sadness and a very quiet gratitude. Perhaps the Great Cosmos would allow her the opportunity to get her revenge before calling her home after all...
Darkness Dawns on Silent Cat Feet
In the next mediunit over lay another pilot, spark burns on her face healing under the green ooze the medics were so fond of slathering on skin conditions. Like Bree she wore her hair cropped short, a telltale sign that she was a pilot, as most folk from Purple Wing wore their hair long, some cultural status ranking, if Bree remembered properly. The other woman lay composed, her expression serene, although Bree noted tiny tells indicating that she was awake, and very much aware of her surroundings.
"Where did they pick you up at?" Bree asked softly.
"Asteroid belt." The woman's voice was surprisingly deep, indicative of a heavier gravity world origin. "My con array was clipped by friendly fire." Her voice was rich with the irony of that sort of luck. Bree stared. The Asteroid belt saw some of the heaviest fighting. It was inconceivable that the commanders of Purple Wing would have willingly committed troops to that arena. To cover her disbelief, she asked,
"Why didn't you return to the ship?"
"The selfsame friendly fire destroyed my aft and starboard thrusters, and blew out most of my fuel." The pilot replied nonchalantly. Bree's jaw dropped. Stingers consisted of little more than cockpit, fuel cells thrusters and small stabilizing wings used house most of the electronics. What the other pilot was describing was the near total destruction of her stinger. Even Bree's stinger was not that badly damaged.
"How are you still alive?" She asked incredulously. The other pilot shrugged then winced as the shrug aggravated other injuries.
"I guess Avinu had other plans for me." She replied, referring to her people's god of war and misfortune. One of the medics working nearby shuddered and made a gesture, thumb to pinky, to ward off bad luck.