{Last wingmen designations stick,} Reaper said as they moved into position, the oncoming Alpha Wing steadily growing closer. {Open with a two four seven and then free go.}

{Been nice knowing you guys,} Gameshow said, then dropped into a voice that sounded like an old Southern preacher. {First Book of Craptacular, chapter nine, verse 3. 'And lo I did look upon the approaching horsemen, and lo I did shit myself verily, amen.}

{Amen brother!} Hobby replied.

Last wingmen designations meant that Ripley was with Angel. Parry resisted the urge to glance over at the ship on her starboard. This would be nothing like fighting those targets, but even so…

What the hell. Might as well.

"Ripley, let's go old school."

{They would have been close enough to monitor our last target set,} Ripley replied.

"Even more reason for them to think we won't pull it. We're free go after the two four seven. If by any stroke of luck we get the flank I say we do it."

"Hell sister, I'd die with you any day. Ahroo."

{I like the way you guys think,} Reaper said suddenly. {Wing, scrap two four seven. I want a full set five three lock with a three twenty on the drive by.}

"Fuck, seriously?" Angel laughed, astonished.

{A good idea is a good idea. They may expect one but anticipating a full Wing pulling the same stunt at the same time? If we survive we're free go. If not, it's chow time.}

{I could use some chow,} Hammer said almost meditatively.

{We're on. Four seconds to weapons range,} Reaper said. {We are at five one…five two…}

It had to have been quite a sight to see- an entire Wing pulling a sudden five three lock simultaneously. Of course, Parry would never know- one could hardly appreciate the beauty of a full Wing maneuver when you were in one of that Wing's pits.

Beautiful or not, for a split damn second, Parry actually thought it might work. It was a foolish thought, of course. They had never really stood a chance.

Almost instantly her board was flashing, signaling each ship in Rho that was 'hit' and out of the fight.

{Ahm dead! Ahm dead aw lawdy!} Gameshow wailed with amusement, but she barely heard him. She just managed to slip past a shot headed her way, narrowly avoiding a collision with one of the Alpha tourneys that had smoothly dodged the drive-by. It seemed she was suddenly in a hurricane of swarming ships.

Three more team members went dark. As she tried to clear out of the melee for open space she risked a glance at her board.

Only three of their Wing was left, everyone else had already been tagged. Less than three seconds had passed since they'd started the maneuver.

It was her, Ripley, and Reaper left. Ripley was the furthest from them, and from the glance Angel had taken, she had no fewer than three of Alpha on her six. She was weaving, dodging their shots but only by millimeters. Angel had no real hope to help her but she adjusted course anyway, only to discover she had two on her own ass.

Reflexively, she rolled, then cut a sharp ninety. As she did, she registered a set of shots just barely passing her shielding.

Then, Ripley was out. Angel grit her teeth. RvB or not, Ripley was her wingman for this exercise, and she'd left her wide open. If this had been a real fight, and these were real johnnies, Ripley would now be dead and it would be entirely Angel's fault.

Knowing she herself probably had only milliseconds to 'live' she shook her head once. Reaper was still out there. They won or lost as a Wing.

Fuck these guys, anyway. Time to make Silver Girl dance.

She swung her engine hard port, feigning like she was running for open space again before she spun back the other way, letting out an almost desperate spray of shot. The two on her ass moved almost as if they read her mind, but something flashed past her screen. One of the three that had taken down Ripley had come her way, apparently to help finish her off. Angel gaped in shock as her screens suddenly registered a point, the Alpha Wing fighter dropping out of the game.

I fucking killed one?

Even as the thought registered her blue board went to flashing red. She was down and out, and according to her readouts, so was Reaper. They had-quite unsurprisingly-lost.

The game had only lasted fifteen seconds.

{Holy shit princess!} Hammer's voice suddenly bellowed in her ear, followed quickly by the voices of the rest of the Wing.

{I don't believe it! I don't fucking believe it! You beautiful angel you!} Pagan hooted.

{If I had not seen it…how the hell did you do that?} Siren asked, baffled.

Angel felt her cheeks heat and let out a laugh that was just as astonished as she felt.

{WC Merlin to WC Reaper…good game.}

Reaper's voice sounded steady but something about it made Angel wonder. {WC Merlin, much appreciated.}

{Copy that. We'll see you on deck. Merlin out.}

{Rho Wing, this is Flight Control. Your clearance window is closed, bring it home.}

{Copy that, Flight Control. Rho Wing entering pattern.}

Angel brought her fighter around and entered formation with the rest of Rho. She could hear the others still exclaiming in her ears but it melted into white noise.

I got one of them. Holy fucking cow. I shot down one of Alpha Wing!

It was a purely lucky shot, and she knew it. The whole thing had been a mess from the get-go, as it should be when a veteran SFT Wing took on a new Wing freshly MR'd. Even so, in chaos like that, it wasn't unreasonable to expect that one of them would hit one of Alpha just by pure frantic happenstance…and that's what had happened.

It was just luck. Just chance. Yet part of her head wouldn't stop cheering along with the others.

Chance or not, I shot down one of Alpha fucking Wing!

The rest of her head was stuck on the less positive aspect of what had happened. It didn't matter that it hadn't been a 'real' fight. Her wingman had gone down, because of her.

They reached Houston. It wasn't until Angel was settling Silver Girl back into her hangar that her thoughts broke enough to realize what Merlin had said over comm.

We'll see you on deck.

Was Alpha Wing going to dock with Houston instead of returning to the Londontown?

It makes sense, they are supposed to oversee our training. I wonder if it'll be the whole Wing or just Merlin?

As her hangar closed and pressurized, she powered down the fighter's engines and went through her post-flight check quickly. Sunshine was waiting as she finally cracked the hatch, helping her to remove her helmet and unlock her from the cockpit.

"How'd she do?" she asked as she got Parry's helmet free.

"She handles beautifully," Angel told her. "Not a single complaint. Everything was five-by."

"Good to hear it!" Dim voices raised outside and Sunshine turned her head. "From the sound of their whooping it must have been quite a morning."

"We RvB'd Alpha," she said, climbing out of the pit as Sunshine backed down the ladder.

"Alpha? Well now! That is something. You kick their asses?"

Parry laughed, dropping to deck. "No, hardly, we-"

"Your name should be goddamn Goddess!"

Rafe's bellow filled the hangar as he, Hobby, and Siren strode in. He didn't pause at the door, but swept his arms around her and lifted her right off the ground. "You beautiful fucking princess you!"

"Hammer! Jesus!" She half laughed, half gasped as she tried to breathe around the bear hug.

"You took down one of Alpha! Fucking Alpha!" Hobby said. "God, I'm getting teary again just thinking about it!"

Rafe set her back on her feet, gripping her shoulders. "Do you know who you shot down?"

"If you say Merlin I think I'm going to puke," she said weakly.

"If you'd shot down Merlin I do believe Hammer would dip you in gold," Siren said. "You took out Shadow."

"Shadow?" She blinked, hand over her stomach. "I…think I might vomit anyway."

"The spew of celebration!" Hobby said enthusiastically. Angel gave him an irritated look.

They went out into the maintenance walk, the others joining them in the hub, just as enthusiastic, excitedly talking over what had happened. Reaper was quieter, and offered her his hand. As she took it he nodded.

"You're a hell of a pilot, Angel."

"I just got lucky, sir," she said. "It was a one in a million shot."

"I'm not talking about the game," he said. "Everything your Colonel at Yelchin said about you is true."

"I'm not entirely sure what he said about me," she replied warily.

He smiled slightly. "I'll be happy to tell you later. Right now, this Wing needs some chow, and we have a long afternoon ahead still."

He clapped her on the shoulder then lifted his voice to the others. "Wing, chow time. You will report to section four, room A, at 1100 exactly. PT gear. Dismissed."

As the group started out the door, still laughing and talking, Angel looked around and then paused with a blink. Reaching out, she caught Rafe's arm as he headed past her.

"What?"

"Where's Ripley?"

"I thought she was here," he said, looking around. "She's quiet as a fucking mouse half the time. All hangars are green, so she obviously landed."

Heading across the maintenance room she entered the corridor for the other set of hangars, Hammer on her heels. Glancing in the first hangar, she saw Ripley standing by the ladder next to Gold Rush, her jockeys busy going through post-flight.

She wasn't looking at the ship- or for that matter, anything in particular. She had her hand on her forehead, her gaze downward and unfocused on some random spot on the floor. Immediately concerned, Parry headed for her.

"Ripley?" she said softly as she got to her side. "You ok?"

Behind her, Hammer looked at the pair silently from the door, but did not enter.

"What?" Ripley looked at her, blinking and lowering her head. Then she shook it. "No, not really. I'm…Angel, I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

"I flubbed that drive by and the next thing I knew, we were on opposite ends of the field. Intentionally or not, I left my wingman alone out there."

Parry stared at her. "Ripley, no…I've been beating myself up for the same thing. You got taken down because I was too far away. If that fight had been real-"

"Both of you knock it off," Hammer said, not unkindly. "It was a fucking mess out there. You got separated, it happens. Neither of you abandoned your wingman. You're good fucking pilots, ok? We had a lot of handicaps out there. We were in new fighters we're still getting used to, flying with new pilots we haven't felt out much yet, and we were going up against literally the top rated, most veteran SFT Wing in the goddamn Confed."

"Yeah," Ripley said quietly, then smirked at Angel. "And you took out Shadow."

"So I've been told," she said, with a bashful grin. "It was total luck-"

"Then from now on before I get in the pit, I'm rubbing your head for luck," Hammer said, striding forward and scrubbing his knuckles hard over her head.

"Ow! Stop it you big fuck!" she said.

He grinned, lowering his hand. "Come on, both of you. Pull up your fucking panties. You both did good. Now let's get some chow before I have to plant my boot up your asses."

He turned and walked out, leaving them to follow him. As they did, Angel glanced over at Ripley.

"Really, it wasn't your fault."

Ripley nodded with a faint smile. "It wasn't your fault either…Shadow Killer."

"Oh, don't start calling me that. You start calling me that and Hobby is never going to let it go."

"Neither will I!" Hammer called back. "Shadow Killer!"

Angel groaned.


Much to Angel's embarrassment, Marty and the others were still excitedly going over the morning as they sat down to chow, the name 'Shadow Killer' having spread just exactly as Angel had feared it would.

"I know who Jon is going to make his wingman now," Hank said with a wink her direction. Across the table, Jon shook his head.

"Do not make assumptions, Hank."

"Are you kidding me? She took down one of Alpha-"

"Yes, I was there," he said evenly. "There are many other things to take into consideration. I haven't made final decisions on any wingman parings yet, though I do have a more solid idea of the direction I might go."

"Do you know when you might decide?" Tinkerbell asked.

"A few more sessions like this morning should suffice," he said, then pointed his fork at Pagan. "That reminds me. I wanted to ask you about that little maneuver you did when paired with Siren. It was surprisingly effective- what made you think of it?"

Pagan looked surprised the conversation had now focused on him. As they started to talk, Parry sighed internally, grateful at least that it was no longer on her.

Sitting beside her, Ray smiled then leaned over just enough to bump her shoulder. "You really thought you'd abandoned me out there?" she asked.

"You thought you'd abandoned me," Parry replied.

"Touché," Ray said, then shook her head. "They were so fast, it was crazy. They almost flew like they were psychic, you know? Everything I tried to do it was like they thought of it first."

"Yeah, I hear you. After twenty years or so of this, we'll move like that too."

Ray grinned at her. "And we'll be scaring the piss out of new SFT Wings oursel-"

Her eyes shifted and she suddenly, rather abruptly stood up, nearly spilling her tray as she did, snapping a salute. Startled by her motion, the others at the table looked over, then surged to their feet as well, hands springing up into salutes as well.

Bastille was striding toward them, three others on her heels. Though she'd only seen one of the three in person before, Parry knew them all.

Shadow looked as stern and serious as she had when they'd arrived. Beside her was a taller, blonde woman with a spray of pink and green color in her short hair- Malibu. The man looked almost identical to Jondell, aged and seasoned a couple of decades. His gray eyes looked like flint.

Merlin Killdare.

"At ease, everyone," Bastille said. Hands dropped but Parry doubted any one of them actually relaxed. Malibu, a wide grin on her face, looked them over.

"So which one is the Shadow Killer?" she said happily. Parry felt her gut tighten in misery.

Oh…fuck. How they fuck did THEY hear that name?

"That would be Angel," Jondell said, and looked at her. Malibu strode right over, reaching out and grabbing Parry's hand, pumping it enthusiastically.

"Just had to shake your hand. I'm only disappointed I didn't get to see the look on her face when she realized she was tagged."

"Yes, we're all very amused, Rita," Shadow said. "Leave her be."

"Don't listen to her," Malibu said with a wink, but released Parry's hand. "The stick up her ass is well-rooted."

"It was a good game," Merlin said, looking at them all. "There are some fine pilots in this Wing. You were all well-chosen."

A self-conscious murmur of appreciation moved through the group, then his eyes fixed to his son. "Jon, if I might have a word with you briefly?"

"Of course," Jondell said instantly.

As the two men moved away, Bastille said, "You are slotted for PT this afternoon, which I'm sure your WC has already informed you. Malibu and Shadow will be supervising. I saw vid capture of your maneuvers and RvB match. I must agree with Zarold. The Confed's trust in you seems to be well-founded. You have much to learn and far to go, but keep up like you did today and you will all do the service and your species proud."

Another murmur of gratitude went through them. Nodding, Bastille turned and headed over toward where Merlin and Jondell were still talking. It was impossible to hear them, but Parry could see how stiff her WC looked.

Is he getting a dressing down for something, or do he and his old man just not get along? she wondered.

"See you lot on the mat," Malibu said, giving them a wink before she headed that way too. Shadow, who had been mostly silent throughout the exchange, hesitated a moment before following. Her pale, artificial eyes seemed to fix Parry, but her expression gave no hint to what she might be thinking. Then, with a slight nod, she as well turned and went after the others.

Parry sat back down, her mouth suddenly dry. It didn't help when Marty looked at her with wide eyes.

"Dude, that look…she's either going to recommend you for promotion or snap your neck during PT."

"Not helping," Rafe said, glaring at the smaller man. "Parry, you ok?"

Words seemed to have lost themselves, but she managed a nod. Reaching for her water, she took a sip, trying to banish the sudden desert in her mouth.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Connie asked, her eyes on the distant group.

"I don't know, but Reaper doesn't look very happy, does he?" Judy replied.

Parry set her glass down numbly, picking up her fork and stirring at her food. It was a lucky shot. That's all it was. She can't really be angry over a lucky shot during a game, can she? Oh fuck, I'm so fucking screwed...

Beneath the table, warm fingers suddenly slid over her free hand, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Parry looked over in surprise at Ray, who gave her a soft smile that matched the squeeze, before she released her hand and turned her attention back to her meal.

Parry looked at her food again, and grinned.

Even if Shadow tries to kill me and that nickname spread all over the station…this is the best day ever.