February 2035. The sky was at peace. The world was not.

Erusea's Aeronautics and Space Agency had to go private eventually; all these advances, all the expenses that came with discovering them. And with the new decade, they did; no more government. Just Neucom. And on the other coast was General Resources, cold and composed. The old borders of countries existed, but for the most part nobody cared.

Her Majesty was the one shining exception. Where she walked, everyone looked. When she spoke, everyone listened. Queen Rosa was the reason the world still knew Erusea in a world of Gründer, MacMillan, and GenRes. Indeed, she was the reason the world knew Neucom, after the hell the Lighthouse War put EASA through. They'd never again have the slightest hope at hiring AI techs... but getting to fly for the Rose of Usea, to design and build aircraft for the woman that brought the world together? There was no shortage of recruits there.

All that awe for someone that couldn't remember which day it was. For someone that needed a notebook telling her that yes, today wasn't November 1st 2019, that she was a Queen instead of a Princess, that today she was meeting with presidents and CEOs because the war last night ended sixteen years ago. Somehow she made it work, day in and day out.

In the clear February air Queen Rosa Cossette d'Elise walked down the stairs from her jet, Ionela and her rearguard following carefully behind. The Queen looked up from the ground past her soldiers, and when she saw Alma, she gave that smile that was so very wide and so very hers. Never felt right when Alma tried it; but she did anyway, lip twitching from the awkwardness. When Her Majesty laughed, it made Alma's smile real too.

"You look well, ma'am," Alma said with a salute, before giving 'nel a big hug.

"Good to see you too," Ionela laughed.

"Thank you, Alma," Miss Cossette said. "But didn't I tell you that you don't have to salute?"

"Hah, I like saluting you, though. I didn't know you kept notes on me, ma'am..."

"Of course! You and Nellie are family."

A strange feeling rose in Alma, something that made her blush and put a lump in her throat; but there was Miss Cossette's gentle laughter again, and she forgot about it just as quick.

"So - just what have you been up to, Alma? The unclassified things, anyway?"

"They made me a teacher!" Alma said with a pretend grumble. "I have a bunch of new pilots flying under me since the board's been so happy with my performance. It's a little like babysitting, but they're learning fast so I'm happy. Plus, you know, it takes some of the workload off me."

"Really? Could I meet them?"

"Sure, I'll introduce you to them after the airshow. And then, of course, I've been testing planes. Lots of weird ones, but they're all fun to fly. Our show today's featuring my favorite so far…"


«Mab One, clear for takeoff.»

«Mab One copies, take off,» Alma answered, and she throttled up gently. The Delphinus models were like winged rockets on launch, so she quickly learned to give them gentle pushes on the ground. She looked to Queen Rosa, a little figure on the stands, and waved as she lifted into the air. The displays on the ground were switching between internal cameras on each cockpit; Alma couldn't see it, but Cossette laughed and waved back.

Well, a wave couldn't count as a salute, Alma thought. She hoped Miss Cossette would agree.

«Mab Two, clear for takeoff,» the tower continued; now Armand launched, engines blasting but still low for the craft. «Mab Three, clear for takeoff,» and Kritika took off at full throttle with a joyful whoop, entirely undaunted by the crushing thrust; by the time her wheels were in the air she was at idle, gliding into position by her captain. «Mab Four, clear for takeoff,» and finally Petr took to the air, calm but curious.

"Tower, mic check?" Alma asked.

«Loud and clear Mab One,» the tower answered.

"Excellent. m-Your Majesty, the planes we're flying today are an experimental upgrade to the Delphinus I; you're the very first person outside the company to see them. It may be based on a previous model, but the D-II is a completely different machine, so we had to hire three more pilots to test it out properly – my nuggets. Say hi, kids!"

«Ma'am!»

«Ma'am!»

«Ma'am!»

"There's three things that make our birds so special: their agility, their thrust, and their new cockpits. We'll show off all three for you, Your Highness."

Alma and her team rounded towards the base, assuming parade formation.

"Our Dels have plenty of upgrades that help us move where we want," she continued. "A Kulbit's easy as pie…"

Alma pulled back and somersaulted, and each of her nuggets repeated it.

"So are J-turns…"

Mab flight spread into a wide finger formation to get space for the maneuver. Together they rose, careful on the throttle; the stall came easily to them, and they hovered nose up like a flight of angels before pirouetting to a dive and level-off.

We did better than in the rehearsal, Alma thought happily.

Their formation was now reversed, and they flowed back into position. "But the truly special maneuver? Is this cartwheel."

The pilots lined up over and aside the runway, then in succession they climbed, faced Her Majesty, and made a yawing spin as if they were knives tossed by a juggler. As they leveled off, Alma looked back for a moment to zoom in on Miss Cossette: even after their stunt, she still had a hand to her mouth, utterly stunned.

"Petr discovered it in the simulator," Alma said with no little pride. "As far as we know, this is the only jet that can do that."

Mab Squadron climbed as they rounded back towards the base, and Alma continued narrating:

"Next, our thrust. Our engines are the most powerful fighter engines in the world. You may want to cover your ears for this, ma'am…"

Kritika dove, going emergency burn. Low so Her Majesty could see, but downwind and further from the stands to avoid kicking up too much dirt. Her Delphinus bulleted past with a roar and a mane of airshock; a few seconds after, the boom followed her, a pulse of gale winds and a trail of uprooted grass tracing her path. But Kritika was far enough away that all that reached Miss Cossette was some of the wind, blowing her jacket about.

"Mach 1 in thirty-five seconds," Alma said. "Our engines let us hover…"

Armand came down, dipping up in front of the runway to demonstrate. He held it for several seconds before restoring his throttle, climbing directly from his nose-up position –

"…but they also let us slow down when we want," she said, cueing Petr to do his magic. He came in for landing, a little gentle so he had some breathing room. But when he came over the runway, he climbed instead of following the descent, vectored engines deadening his forward speed as he rose. He slowed to a hover; now Petr was gently descending, a little yaw here and there to align with the runway. As he neared the tarmac, he halted his descent, then carefully eased his bird forward, settling into a slow taxi across the runway before he brought the thrust back and returned to the air.

«That's my Yuki,» Alma heard quiet over the private comms, and she stifled a laugh.

"Last are the cockpits," she went on. "These have active pressurization systems that link with our flight suits – with the two combined, we can pull stunts that would've made even Grandfather pass out. Speaking of which… first up is his Leap of Faith."

They flowed back into a line, diving just a little to gain speed. Then they pulled up one by one into the straight vertical, like a caterpillar climbing a stem. Alma heard a gentle warble behind her: the resonance of her nuggets' engines, amplified by the AMS.

Everyone's steady, good.

Now came the execution. Alma cut her thrust, vectoring so she was perpendicular to the climb. When her nose at last lay into the normal, she gave full power, bursting away like a star in a firework. The Betty chanted 'Over G' and the world lost its color for a moment – yet true to her word, Alma was wide awake. So was Armand and Kritika and Petr, given the AMS' silence.

The four of them peeled away like petals on a bloom, forming up to the south.

"Next, the Golden Cage…"

They formed a tetrahedron, then curled in hard U-turns towards the midpoint, before flipping away again near the center. Alma wondered how that was a combat maneuver, but she let it go; as they formed parade, she spoke again:

"And finally, our Helix loop. We're going to do about 9 Gs the whole way."

They lined up for the rolling loop, and climbed into it, going tight as they could as they screamed above the runway. Alma held on, wondering if the pressure alarms would trip… yet she was fine, as were her nuggets. Her vision faded back into color, and Alma sighed in relief.

"And that's it, Your Majesty. Mab Squadron, at your service!"


Their landing was simple enough, and when Alma made it back to the stand, she found Miss Cossette beaming at her, and Ionela giving a cheer. She returned the Queen's smile with a laugh, before sitting by the two, resting her helmet in a spare spot.

"Your hair," 'nel whispered; Alma combed it roughly with her hand, a sheepish grin on her face.

"Thanks. So, what do you think, Your Majesty?"

"You're great!" Miss Cossette answered in that gentle honeyed breath of hers. "All of you were. And to think, that was you at play!"

Alma chuckled, trying not to brag and failing.

"I wanted to have the meal tonight, but then there wouldn't be much time to talk with you all. What do you think?"

"Either's great, ma'am. But if it's a tie, I'd go with tonight." So you can remember it with the airshow, she thought but didn't say.

Her Majesty looked at Alma blankly, and in the back of her mind Alma knew what Miss Cossette was feeling; but the rest of her hoped it wasn't so. She was about to speak again when quite suddenly there was a blur of white and orange about her –

"m-Miss Cossette?"

The Queen held her rather tight this time. Not as bad as last year, but tight.

"Sorry, Alma," she said quietly. That was how she hid shaking in her voice; and so Alma hugged Cossette back, just as she did when she was young. "It's just that I woke up, and you're an adult. You've just, just grown so much. I'm… pr…"

Miss Cossette's words crumbled into something that wasn't quite laughter and wasn't quite sobs, but Alma just held her and understood. Miss Cossette wept into her flight suit, warm like a campfire in her arms; Alma looked into the boundless sky, the cirrus wisps losing their morning gold, and found words for the Queen.

"Hey, Miss Cossette?"

Cossette gasped, and Alma figured that was her response.

"Did anyone tell you today? That we're all proud of you too?"

"Not yet," she mumbled.

"Well, I am. And 'nel is. All of Erusea, and all of the world, and we'll always be proud of you." Alma couldn't hear it, but she could feel Cossette giggle; and that made the whole sky brighter. "Not the first time you've heard this, is it?"

"'Four thousand, eight hundred and fifty fourth'," Miss Cossette quoted, still sniffling but grateful. "Nellie says it to me every morning…"

"Good. And we'll all keep telling you. We'll always be with you."