"Yo, Jack," Nicole leaned in towards her squadmate, sitting in the chair next to her. "Any idea what the hell this is about?"

"Nah," He whispered back, the dim lights of the briefing room interrupted by the cast glow of a projector warming up its lighting array. "Haven't got a fuckin' clue."

Cool, she mused to herself. Very, very cool. Mystery meeting.

A very prim-and-proper looking Lieutenant Colonel strolled up to the podium at the front of the room, the pilots' murmuring dying down as they turned their attention to the CO. "Hey, JC," one of the pilots from Cygnus shot a snarky tone across the rows of chairs. "All dressed up, got somewhere to go?"

The dress-blues-clad commander sighed, dropping a stack of folders on the podium. "Give me a second, Captain, I'll get to that." He clicked a button on a slide remote, pointing its laser at the projection screen. The red dot circled the photograph of an aging man, a rack of ribbons hanging from his drab green dress uniform, the flags of Cascadia and the Federation behind him. She recognized one of them, from among her mentor's awards— it was a military decoration of the Pacific Federation, the Oceania War Service Medal. The bronze badge of stars and crystals affixed to the black-and-gold ribbon was also familiar— Major Desjardins, the man who had almost put a railgun slug through her spine and a close friend of Zmei, wore the Peacekeeper Liaison Device on his as well. His nametag read "ELIZABETH", and he wore the stars of a General on his shoulders. Whoever this Elizabeth guy is, she thought, he's in lovely company.

"I'm sure most of you are already familiar with General Elizabeth. Well, I don't know if you've been keeping up with the news lately, but I've got some fantastic news." JC broke into a smile. "The Old Man of Oceania's on our side. Wild Boar Actual, they're calling him. He joined up pretty early on into the war, when the CNG split." A hush hung over most of the room. "Now, I know not all of you are Guard personnel. For the partisans and… defectors, here… General Morgan Elizabeth is a bit of a hero to the Guard; he fought alongside the Peacekeepers in Oceania. Squeezed a victory out of quite a few battles he probably should have lost. Now he's been working that same magic with us. Sometimes, anyways; the Old Man's lost his touch a little… figures. He's Army Guard, after all." JC let the inter-service rivalry elicit a few laughs from the former Cascadian Air National Guard pilots before continuing. "Kinda funny. Went from butchering mercs down under to getting saved by them."

"Anyway," the Lieutenant Colonel advanced the slide to a map of the strategic positions of the CIF and Federation. "We've got the Feds on the back foot. We know we can exploit that, too; so…"

So, the rumors were true, she thought as JC circled Magadan with his laser pointer. "We're hitting them where it hurts— we're hitting them where they live. If we can take out airbases and air defenses in Magadan, the Feds will be forced to pull more troops from Cascadia to defend their own shores at best, and at worst will be forced to stretch their supply lines even thinner. They're still reeling from last week. Ever kicked the playground bully when they're down? Goddamn good feeling, pilots. Leading the groundside offensive will be… you guessed it, General Elizabeth. He's on his way here to inspect the base, which will be used as a staging ground."

"Inspection?" Dagger sighed. "Great. Just 'cause you've got your blues doesn't mean the rest of us exactly packed our bags before, y'know, stealing our planes."

"Lieutenant!" JC rolled his eyes. "I'm getting to that. But because Lieutenant Ashido felt the need to butt in, let's just get that out of the way now, then." He looked out over the crowd of pilots. "I get that not all of you guys are exactly in a position to be a legitimate Air Force right now. We're rebels. The fact that we're even operating aircraft is a testament to just how brave Cascadians have been, that even part of our military would go up against the Feds. We all know how that turned out last time… hell, I was there." Nicole raised an eyebrow. JC's an Oceania vet?

"I remember getting shot down over Oceania, in my F/C-16, and needing a rescue. General Elizabeth may be Army Guard. But, as much as I can joke and poke fun at that, he and his men saved my life. I owe him a damned good base full of damned good fighters. I know you all have it in you, even if you don't have your dress blues." He flipped the page on his notes. "So, for the General's visit in two days, I'm enacting the following directives: One," JC flipped through the slideshow. "For his visit, if you have your dress uniform, get it looking as good as you can and wear it. If you don't… ah, look good. Figure something out. The Cascadian Independence Force officially claims to be the legitimate military fighting force of the legitimate Cascadian government— technically speaking, we're all still National Guard. We all just know the goddamn Loyalists aren't changing their markings anytime soon. So… I know you're not necessarily ready to be a legitimate fighting force. To be an Air Force, not just a bunch of Cascadian patriots with planes. But you know what?" JC paused. "I owe General Elizabeth a base. You? You owe the people of Cascadia their Air Force."

The pilots murmured amongst themselves; some staunch, patriotic agreement and partisan fervor; others grumbling with the realistic understanding of career military. Nicole wasn't sure if she really owed Cascadia anything. I mean… do I? She stared down at her lap. If I could leave, and no one would bother me…

Unfortunately, Burn didn't let her finish her thought. "You have a question, Lieutenant Bernitz?" JC asked, noticing the hand raised from the crowd. "Yeah," the pilot brushed a strand of pale golden hair from his forehead as he brought his hand down. "You said 'directives.' What's the next one?"

"Oh!" JC smiled, chuckling as he planted a hand into his forehead. "Silly me, I almost forgot. Sorry, sorry. Directive Two is that you're all subject to CNG General Order 06-05 again." A thunder of groans broke out from the audience. "Settle down, you don't have to like it. And don't worry about the network, IT guys got a system working for it. Secure, separate from the Feds, even if it is running the older version. You owe Cascadia an Air Force, and last I checked, Air Forces have standards."

"Fitness checks?" Lieutenant Ashido rolled her eyes, springing to action with her arms crossed. "Really? We're in the middle of a war!"

"And last I checked, unfit pilots don't handle G's well." The Lieutenant Colonel gave a stern look. "Sit down, Ashido. This is for your own good. Everybody, go hit the gym, get your fitness checks in, and make sure this place is a model of a Cascadian airbase by the time General Elizabeth gets here. Am I understood?" The question, of course, was rhetorical. "Dismissed."

"Y'know," Nicole said, turning to Jackal as they shuffled out of the rows of chairs. "I think this'll be my first time at the gym without a gun poking into my back. Really looking forward to it!"

"Fuck you, Spook," Jackal said. "I think you're the only one who's ever wanted to do a fitness check."

"C'mon," she said, a confident smile taking shape on her face. "It'll be fun!"