When the time came for breakfast, rather than meeting with Tark or any of her friends from other units, Shayera decided on going to one of the kitchens serving to one of the mess halls. If it wasn't a tactful choice to go there before the Aloria trip, the circumstances made it tactful.
At this moment, she just wanted to talk to someone who didn't look like her and didn't have wings.
The steam in the kitchen was enough to curl her hair as she walked in. Most of the Off-World cooks busying themselves with the contents of the meal troughs to not look at her. Though mostly that was because to look anyone considered above them without being prompted to, they find themselves at the end of a nasty beating.
An Off-World attendant shouldn't look at their masters until they were told, she heard.
One of them, did seem to look up enough to see it was heard, for she heard the shout, "Hey, Domet! Your Vulture friend is here for you!"
Vulture. While those raised in the floating cities tossed words like insect, bug, trash, and grub to anyone from the Downside, the Downsiders responded in kind with their own: Vulture. Painfully understandably used for any Thanagarian coming down from the Downside has nothing to bring but death and misery to those in the Downside.
Given how Downside Thanagarians barely make it up to the ranks except with their connections, she wasn't surprised that it be would applied to her. Though most of these workers wouldn't know her given how often they rotate Off-Worlders.
"Don't call her that, Juvney!" Domet's voice called. "As I said, she was raised Downside like me."
"But she did ascend the ranks did she?" called a jeering voice as she neared her friend's work station. "When those winged folk can't even ascend the ranks if they don't die in their first battles."
"That would be enough," Shayera barked. Less for maintaining authority and more for wanting them to lay off of him. They didn't need to give Domet a hard time simply for associating with her.
Immediately, Juvney backed off as Shayera sat by one of the empty surfaces of the kitchen. She didn't need to tell anyone what she wanted. Domet knew what she'd like to eat for breakfast anyway, for after sending an trough to the mess hall, he prepared an plate of what looked like red grains and Brontadon muscle. The latter more favored by Downside-bred and raised soldiers like her compared to those raised Upside.
"Thanks, Domet." She brings the plate closer to hers.
"Just so you know, we still manage to hear the gossip exchanged between the soldiers,' Domet begins. "That there are those not happy that Commander Talak became Promised to the Lieutenant from the Downside."
"So, you aren't surprised about the earrings," Shayera remarked. Trying not to think about Hro and his fleet joining Commander Lian and Commander Corsar. Trying not to think that it won't be years until she sees his face, hears his voice, and feel him under her hands again. No, she couldn't afford to dwell on him too much.
He wouldn't want that for her either. He'd want her to prioritize her mission, and that was what she was going to do.
"Those that are upset about it don't have it in their heads that he wouldn't have looked your way if an Upsider didn't acquire guardianship of you," he says, "no offense."
Part of Shayera knew that Domet had a point. Having Thal as her guardian placed her in Hro's social circle. She often overheard people say that she rode on Corla's coattails to get to where she was now, even if she truly believed she'd still be wearing the red if it weren't for being under Thal Porvis' guardianship.
Deep down, she knew what Domet really meant. Even if Hro wasn't as heavy handed to the Downsiders as his peers, she'd see his slight discomfort when Commander Hol would speak how the Downsiders – especially the Off-Worlders – get the short end of the stick. How he'd roll his eyes sometimes as if he wanted him to move along the conversation ("I don't fault him for his sympathies," Hro shared with her. "It can be tedious after a while. When you live in Upside, it's something no one wants to hear about."). Yes, he probably wouldn't have looked her way. Though if he did, she'd be that paramour on the side while Hro would be Promised to Corla for appearances.
"I guess so," was all Shayera could say before getting an start on her breakfast.
She eats in silence for an moment before Domet asks. "Care to share what is bothering you, Shay? You appeared as if you had a lot on your mind."
Shayera swallows, wondering how to begin this. "I'm leaving Thanagar in two weeks, Domet, and I don't know when I'll be coming back."
She could see Domet's yellow eyes fall. Watching his eyes somber up. "I'm guessing it's the High Council that is sending you away," he deduces. "With you being high up there to the point of assigning missions."
She nods. "I could see why I was chosen, however the timing…." She sighs. "It's like High Councilor Lelkae would rather have Hro with Corla again then me."
Domet covers her gauntlets with his scaly hands. "No matter what my other friends say here, you are a good person, Shayera. Don't let this mission change that. If wherever you're going is better than here, take advantage of that. Because you might not be in that environment again when you come back."
Better than here, she thinks. Obviously, Domet would have a similar outlook on Thanagar given that he was considered expendable. Especially the new edict that Off-Worlders will be sent to the front lines. Aside from that Thanagar was an harsh planet to live if you didn't have much of an spine.
Though, Shayera had come to the point where getting too comfortable wasn't to be taken for granted.
Katar's first visit was with the med tech who was responsible for the ensuring the medicine and equipment had gone to the clinic safely. And what he had heard had done nothing to quell his fears.
"They asked Lieutenant Javat an few questions, and then they turned to ask me," was the answer. "I was fortunate that my friends backed me up."
If they questioned the chief medical officer and the tech in question, then that means they were closer to his operations. His heart threatening to jump out of his throat as he and some of his subordinates traveled to the Downside. Not even bothering to spare a glance at the withered Kalmoran statue sitting in the main street.
Even if his dreams the night before didn't provide him any insight on what was to come: even with D'Shar saying everything and everyone was accounted for, it did nothing to sooth his nerves.
He didn't even have to go to the Wingmen Corps outpost to see what was going on. For blocks away, he could see the Wingmen Corps pulling out boxes. Taking everything in it to swallow down his anxiety as he motioned his men to follow him.
"Fair day, Captain Dann," Katar greeted, as they approached the group. His eyes surveying the scene beforehand. Relying on his role as Commander to mask the bubbling anxiety within him. "I see you have your hands full."
"That we do, Commander Hol." The Wingmen Captain looks at him. "A day after Lieutenant Hol's visit, we heard from Commissioner Thrax that Lieutenant Kragger suggested to him that the Shadowlord's operations could be medicinal in nature rather than the common drugs and weapons racket we see around here."
"Then our friend here was taking a great risk," Katar replied, clenching his fists as he swallowed whatever anxiety was threatening to take hold.
"And he has evaded us again. Here comes the ironic part," Captain Dann had answered. "The residue left here suggests military-grade equipment was used, even if the Chief Medical Officer and the lead tech had no knowledge of anything. What is more, they didn't seem to leave behind anything useful for us for any further investigation."
All that anxiety that had been bubbling up had deflated as he heard the last sentence. Everything had gone as planned. D'Shar was safe. The patients were safe. Though that meant they had to be more clandestine than before.
"I hope you wouldn't mind if I take a look inside," Katar calmly asks, still in his role as Commander.
"Oh, certainly not, Commander Hol," the Wingman obliges.
Katar turns to his subordinates. "See what you can gather from the Wingmen. I'm going to check inside."
Even if it was all in the plans. That they plan in case one was onto their operations, there was still that exhale as he examined the meeting room alone. His desk tipped over and other articles scattered on the floor. As he watched the Wingmen bring out more boxes of phonies.
However, the thing that made Katar's blood run cold was the sight of the lifeless Royal Ca'arra Hawk laying in the bottom the cage.
"Taking a look, Commander?" one of the Wingmen asked. "So far, we haven't found anything of interest."
"Didn't mean that I still had an interest to check around." Taking an closer step to the deceased bird. "I heard the Shadowlord managed to evade you again."
"Yes, and it seems he took everything with him. He could have given us something. The terrorists he was helping and his couriers."
But you did find your terrorist, Katar couldn't help but think as he removed the dead bird from it's cage. The red blood coating it's beautiful, brown and gray wings. Even if it wasn't Big Red, the murder of an innocent animal had struck an cord to him.
As he held the deceased bird in his arms, he was questioning his decision to come back years ago. Though this wasn't the first time. While Thanagar was home, it was also a hawkworld that ravaged on those they deemed weaker than them. Where those in the floating cities were protected despite their atrocities while those in the slums below had gotten the short end of the stick. The Wingmen being willing to murder an innocent animal when they couldn't kill another person.
Except, these slums were the reason he had come back. Why he was still in an army that subjugated other worlds. It wasn't the Empire or High Mor Vat he was fighting for.
He had chosen to still partake in the fight for those living below him. For his own family. To ensure they never had to see an day where they'd see Gordanian cruisers flying through the skies. Even if those odds were slim given the circumstances.
By the time Shayera had signed off for the night, she was in no hurry to take off her brass helm and gauntlets to massage the migraine in her head. Her brain heavy from the information that she absorbed into those sessions with the Absorbacrons. She was fortunate that she had the night off.
She places her helmet back over her head the moment she hears a ping on her message board. Her head clear enough from the pounding headache to read it clearly.
Dearest Shay,
Administrator Andar Pul has invited us to dine with him at the Aerie. Be there at Twenty-Seven D sharp!
Thal.
Shayera groaned as she tried to suppress a cringe. When Andar Pul became administrator, if he saw a time window, he'd have dinners at the Aerie. Dinners that had become uncomfortable after she read the documents about his inquiry.
As much as she didn't want to attend, she couldn't stomach going to bed early (knowing that it be the first time she'd sleep without him next to her). Decision made, she returned home to change into her purple formal wear and replacing her military helmet for her formal mask.
However, not leaving without concealing an blaster pistol and an knife. With the current stakes, one can't be too sure these days.
The Aerie was not too far from the Delphi. The chatter and music audible the moment she was outside the doors. Taking an moment to gaze at the diorama of the Polaris system over her head at the vestibule before turning to the Off-World attendant.
"I am here for Administrator Andar Pul's party," she said.
"On the second level, ma'am," he answered.
"Thank you."
Shayera paid no mind to the guests on the first floor. Especially paid no mind to the couples dancing palm to palm in front of the orchestra.
"Ah, there is our girl," Thal beamed when she neared the table. "A little late I see, but after all, you are an busy bird these days."
"A circumstance we shouldn't fault her for," Andar Pul pitched in. "Have a seat, my dear girl."
The smile she gave felt painful as she had taken the empty seat between her guardian and Andar Pul. She supposed that her mother anticipated the moment she and Commander Hol could leave the room. For she was not paying Andar Pul no mind.
And taking an look at Paran Dul's face as she sat with her two siblings and father, it was apparent she would rather be at engineering doing working on whatever project she was working on. All Shayera knew was that the Admiral put her on a project that put her off the battle roster as well.
"It was a shame that Commander Talak couldn't join us," Thal had sighed.
"He and Commander Corsar were mandated by Commander Lian to join him counter an Gordanian battalion," Shayera bought up. "We're being outnumbered lately, and I'm certain you already know."
"A shame," Pul said. "We would have loved to have his company if the stakes weren't as they were."
"I for one, would love to claim to achievement of convincing Paran to attend tonight's dinner," Commissioner Thrax boasted. "She works too much sometimes."
"It's critical what I do," Paran maintained. "Especially my current project.'
"And how critical?" Thal raises his glass to his lips. "I suppose you could not tell us."
"All I'll say is that it's success could greatly determine the outcome of this war," Paran divulges with a smirk. Proud of the fact that she knew something that those seated with her didn't.
Though Shayera had an feeling that her guardian and Andar Pul did know what she was talking. As Administrators know everything that was going on in their armada. That they were playing coy for those who didn't have that information.
"Then we will certainly thank you for your success when we see it through," said Commander Hol. "Turning the subject, I don't have to ask your father how this Shadowlord business is coming about."
"Ah, yes," Thrax complains. "Even when given an indication of his operations, he still has managed to…."
At this point, Shayera drowns out the surrounding conversation. Focusing on nothing what was on the plate in front of her, and her mental plate. There was so much she picked up from the Absorbacron but still so much she had to glean from them. The notes she had to make…
"Would you care for an dance before the next course, Lieutenant Hol?"
Major Thrax Dral's voice interrupts her thoughts, and it takes not long to process his request.
"Thanks for the offer, but tonight I don't really feel like…." She drifts off.
"Please, Lieutenant." He takes her hand. "I'm certain your Promised One wouldn't want a beautiful woman such as yourself to go without a dance. Come now, Lieutenant. The music's beautiful. A Carangian piece, you know."
Shayera pursed her lips. She hated being patronized in this fashion. She didn't like the idea of dancing palm to palm with someone that wasn't her Promised One. Though Major Dral pulled her from her chair before she had the chance to wrap her wings around the back of her chair to keep herself tethered.
Trying not to think of all the eyes on her as he steered her to the dance floor in front of the stage.
"Something on your mind, Lieutenant Hol?" Major Dral asked her.
"It's just that when my Promised One is ordered for deployment, I always come along," she said. "However, due to circumstances I can't be there on the battlefield with him, and it's going to be an while before I see him again."
A long while.
"Commander Talak is one of our best Commanders that we have." They switch palms. "There would be no need to worry. That sometime he returns, the two of you will –
He's interrupted when something hot, cold, and warm collides with the two of them. Shayera turns to see one of the Off-Worlder attendants cowering as a tray lay between the two of them.
"Oh, sorry." Shayera begins brushing the food and drink from her robes. "We really should have –"
"You incompetent, smelling, off-world grub!" Major Dral exclaimed, backhanding the attendant. "How dare you!"
"I-I sorry, Shr'i," the attendant groveled, as Shayera noticed the pairs around them stopped dancing. "Sha…Toolo not mean to…"
"Major…"
"How dare you! Do you know who this is?!" Major Dral demanded, grabbing him by the collar of his robes. "What you did?! You reviled one of the most important members of our armada!"
"Major Dral, that is enough!" Shayera commanded, taking his arm. "What's done is done! An beating is not going to solve anything!"
"What is going on here?" asked the chief host of the establishment before he took an glance at her stained robes and the attendant on the floor. "Sweet Icthultu, Toolo, what have you done?"
"Uuhh…please, San Krenno, Toolo not," Toolo begged.
"On behalf of this house and this tower, Lieutenant Hol, I beg your forgiveness." The host puts his hand on her shoulder as she sees Commanders Hol and Thal look over at the scene from the balcony. "I promise you that the useless old cur will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the –"
"With all due respect, S'ri Krenno, there is nothing to prosecute," Shayera maintained. She looks at Troolo, who's still trembling like a leaf. "And if you intend on billing my guardian, keep the money. Now, if you excuse me."
The silence still reigned as she made her way up the floor where her party still sat waiting for her, with Major Dral trailing an few feet behind her.
"Darling, are you alright?" Thal asked, seeming to hover her as if she had received worse than having her dress splattered.
"A seat, dear Shayera! Please, sit." Pul pushes her into her empty seat. "And have a drink of wine. That dirty piece of Off-World filth will pay for this offense, I assure you."
"By all means, administrator, I'm fine," she insisted.
"Inept little cretins," Thal exclaimed, seeming to ignore her. "Why they bother using them, I'll never know."
"Why deprive them what they are only good for, Administrator Porvis?" Paran suggested. "However, if it is of consolation, the Admiral has approved of an order to enlist them for the frontlines."
Usually, Commander Hol might say something to counter to that. That he'd explain how the Off-Worlders aren't any less than them. Instead, he hides a grimace behind his goblet as he drinks. Shayera figured that with the recent development of the Shadowlord, he doesn't want to risk drawing suspicion. After all, he would be a potential suspect due to his sympathies towards the Off-Worlders.
His silence doesn't go unnoticed.
"I'd thought you would say something by now," Thal mused. "You are always the one to advocate for the Off-Worlders as your father before you."
"Actually." Commander Thal stands up. "Katar and I were thinking of returning to base. We won't hear the end of it from the Admiral if we aren't there to receive a deployment call."
"Agreed, Yera." Commander Hol stands up. "A pleasure to be in your audience this evening." The two of them looping arms before walking away from the table. Watching as the two departed from the table.
"Are there days where you fear she might not return alive, Thal?" Pul had asked. "She gave us quite a scare from that recent battle of hers.'
"Yes, but she always manages to pull through, Andar," Thal replied. "She's too stubborn to let the enemy kill her."
For the rest of the dinner, Shayera's mind had wondered to Toolo. Even if she insisted no offense was made, Krenno was still going to hand him to the high courts to appease her guardian. She had half the mind to check on him in the kitchen, though Thal had hurried her away as they left.
She could petition that no charges be filed. However, even if she with the rank she held, the high courts will act on her guardian's favor.
That, along with the notable absence on the other side of her bed, was one of the things that kept her up at night.
The very first thing that Shayera had done the next morning was go to the Aerie to check on the situation with Troolo. And to say she was unpleasantly unsurprised that he wasn't there was an understatement.
"I had to remove him after last night's incident," Krenno had told her. "Terrible business. I'll promise that I should send the bill to your guardian in three days' time."
For all Shayera knew, Troloo could very well be held in the Justice Towers awaiting a tribunal for last night. No one sees the tribunals, but she has heard that the panel lists the offenses before determining their guilt without a witness and victim statement. It was an process that was the same for Thanagarian and Off-Worlder alike.
There was something that she wished she could do, but by the time she'd be on her lunch break, Troolo would probably have the book thrown at him in the most lethal possible.
Unfortunately, it was not she could dwell on Troolo's fate for long. Not with mission she had to prep for. When an clear mind was needed to get info from the Asorbacron.
"As you might have seen, the attire Katar Hol wore as Hawkman was rather scant, hardly practical," Tacet had explained to Fel as he led him through the equipment and gear department. "Ironic, for being an soldier, he knew better."
"I'm surprised he didn't get killed," Fel broadcast. Though his death would have meant one less Off-World lover running around. Unfortunately, Commander Hol had to possess the iron will and stubbornness they all have. "Question: If me and my mission partner are supposed to be Wingmen, why can't we come to Earth in the Wingmen uniform."
"Think: you and your mission partner would claim to hear stories of their time on Earth," Tacet makes known. "Anyone willing to hear would probably not be surprised that you'd want to come in a variant of their costumes instead."
"I see," Fel noted as Tacet turned on the light in the display case. Upon seeing the costume, he seemed partly satisfied. Rather than being the flimsy-looking crisscross yellow straps held together by a hawk emblem, the torso was an golden cuirass that would guarantee protection from attacks against the most sensitive areas. The red hawk emblem practically the same as the one on the pitiful costume Commander Hol decided to wear. The helmet resembling that of a Commander except that the top of the wings were bronze instead of gold with an entirely black face and underwings.
However….
"Why the undergarment over the trousers?" Fel demanded, eyes narrowing at the red fabric covering the crotch and rear. It was highly unbecoming of someone who was actually a soldier.
"Recent intelligence reaffirms that their heroes still wear the undergarments over their trousers, or tights as they call them," Tacet explains. "Even if it is ridiculous."
"It is." Fel turns the Tacet. "It shouldn't be too much of a request to request that the red part of the trousers be removed. For no self-respecting Thanagarian would want to be caught in that."
"I believe I can accommodate that," Tacet assures him.
"Good," Fel answered. He was already going to be degraded as it is by pretending to be the son of an pair of Off-World lovers, and the brother of an Downsider. He didn't need to be degraded further with looking ridiculous.
Her feathers rippled in the wind as Yera and Katar glided next to the Blackhawks. Taking Lady Blackhawk's flank as she scanned the skies for any sight of Luftwaffe aircraft.
To cover more ground, the Justice Society had gone different directions in their bid to defeat the Nazi Third Reich. From the coast of France where the Atom was helping the French resistance fight against the Nazis to the skies over Germany where Yera and Katar were assisting the Blackhawks in their aerial battles.
Wars here on Earth were different as they were the same on Thanagar. Same due to the lives lost, but different as human young weren't mandated for combat training at a young age. The latter being envy worthy. It was not hard to see humans spending more time with their young and feeling an sense of yearning. Hopefully, she and Katar can try to attempt a life like that. An life where their potential children will see more of them.
"Incoming!" Katar shouts, cutting into her thoughts. "Do you hear that?"
She could. From the opposite side she could hear the gunfire and propellers from up ahead. Yera grips her mace tighter. Prepared for when she'll strike a Luftwaffe fighter out of the sky.
The heart pumping in her chest as she sees traces of the enemy fighters in the sky. Yet, one of them is coming down with smoke in the wings. Her eyes hovering over to an figure in a red-and-blue uniform and red cape, who seemed to be shooting down the enemy planes with red beams from his eyes. Huh, whoever he was, he wasn't in the Justice Society with them.
And as they got more closer, through the clouds, was another. Who seemed to be struggling against the firepower of the Luftwaffe. Her wings being the feature sticking out to Yera.
Wings just like hers and Katar's.
It's not long before the Blackhawks initiate firepower and they're closer to these two strangers she saw fighting the enemy planes earlier. Even in the dark, did she get a closer look of the other winged figure as she flew next to Blackhawk's plane.
She was wearing a uniform similar to hers, except she seemed to have a golden cuirass with the red emblem of the Wingmen under her chest. Her trousers were completely green without the red part.
What had stuck out to Yera the most was the fiery red hair. A shade of red that she'd seen on her brother's head.
"Friends of yours?" the red caped stranger asked his seemingly familiar winged companion.
A moment of silence. "They are now," came the winged woman's reply. At that moment, did she see her eyes.
Green eyes that were the same emerald shade as her own.
"Shay? Are you in there?"
Tarkoll's words bring her back to reality. She snaps out of her reverie to see those at their end of the table gazing at her curiously.
"Sorry, I just had a lot on my mind." She shrugs. "I have a lot on my plate these days."
"Ah, where was I?" Rab Mekir mused. "Ah, yes!"
Rab Mekir continued on the story that Shayera had paid no mind to. Lightly eating her food as she thought about what she had seen in her mother's Absorbacron information. No wonder her mother and stepfather appeared as if they had seen her before when they returned from Earth.
No, she couldn't still believe that she saw herself in that point in mother's memories. Yet, the hair, eyes, voice, and the white orbs she was wearing were hard to deny. And of course, the 'Superman' and 'Flash' that was there with them were tied to her herself. The latter wore a different uniform as opposed to the silver helmet, and red and blue uniform of another 'Flash' her mother and stepfather worked with according to the Absorbacron.
"You were out of it during lunch," Tarkoll points out as they left the mess hall. "Let me guess: it's because you are separated from your Promised One."
Shayera sighed. Might as well give him something that makes sense. "It just…when a Commander gets deployed, it means his unit goes with him. This is the first time he has been deployed without me being there. I mean, he held his own when he was in that prison camp, and he could still pretty much hold on his own still. It sounds ridiculous that I am worried."
Actually, it was seeing herself in her mother's memories from the Absorbacron. Who tells their friend, "I saw myself in someone's memories" when she couldn't understand it herself.
"No, it's not." Tarkoll puts his hand on her shoulder. "I'd be surprised if you weren't."
Shayera looks at her friend's hazel eyes and sees as if he's going to say something before he shakes his head. "I'm just going to tell you that some relationships change with time and distance. By the time you see each other again, only one of you might be eager for the other's touch."
She bit her lip. Tark had been the opposite of misgiving when he heard of her Promise to Hro, yet this didn't surprise her. After all, when it appeared that High Councilor Lelkae and Province Councilor Pom were going to create an Promise contract between Hro and Corla, Tarkoll had told her not to bother with Hro.
"We'll see how it pans out," she tells him.
During the coming two weeks, Shayera prepped for her mission. When not gleaning information from both her mother's and the Green Lantern's – whose name she learned was Hal Jordan from his memories – Absorbacron data and meeting those managing gear and outfitting ("No, I'm not wearing red underwear over the green trousers!"), she was checking in on matters in the Espionage Wing. One of them being the training room.
"Cadet Vroq'un has been doing well," Nurdan tells her one afternoon when she dropped by to see how everything was going.
"He hasn't let his confidence get the best of him, has he?" Shayera takes a sip of her coffee.
"Not that we have seen," concurred Cian Ah'ids, who'd be replacing her as instructor for the time being. She had spent some time with him for three sessions to ensure he did as asked. Leaving her students at the hand of someone else made her nervous. After all, she was particular to the point where she only trusted herself with the task.
Comparing the two Absorbacron datas, it had shown a forty-three difference in Earth customs. To the point where it was apparent which one was for: her mother's was to make it appear she had been told stories about their activities in Earth; Hal Jordan's to show her the current customs and their languages, including their English.
It was an experience to see the latter's memories. To see how they navigated not only their planet but others. She had infiltrated Gordanian outposts and their colonized planets beforehand to retrieve information, but she had never traveled the universe to the extent of an Green Lantern like Hal Jordan.
She had heard nothing from Hro ever since his deployment. Of course, he'd said he check in with her to ensure that he was alive. But she couldn't help but check the incoming casualties. Hro and Corla weren't among them, though a good ten percent of their army had received losses.
"He'd come back," Commander Hol had assured her the night before she was supposed to leave for Earth. "He was able to pull through in the prison camp for four years before escaping. Even if he loses a limb, he'd still be as stubbornly strong as ever."
Shayera nods. "I'd be a fool if he doesn't come out alive," she replies, trying to memorize the two moons in the sky. Trying to sear in the image of the Thanaldar skyline and the Downside below.
It was three decades ago when Hro had been among those captured by the Gordanians. Even if they were only friends then, the state he was in when he returned still sent chills: how skeletal and withered his wings appeared, the terrorized thousand-yard stare in his gray eyes, and the jagged scars that had to be treated. Yet, unbroken, as if his will to fight their enemies strengthened.
By the time the hour was near to Earth, her stomach was in knots. Though she had eaten an filing breakfast, for who knows where her next meal was coming from. She was glad she didn't have the night off, or she wouldn't have slept.
She said her farewell to her guardian, and couldn't help that sense of foreboding. Which she shook away. She was going to return to Thanagar, seeing everything as she last knew it. Of course, she had to have faith.
Shayera could feel the blood pumping as she changed out of her dark blue uniform to the golden cuirass, green trousers, and red boots. Changing her Lieutenant's helmet for the flared helmet they had given her ("It has an Absorbacron interface in it, which you can shut on and off through your scroll. Then you can send the info from your scroll. Sometimes, information is better understood seen than read"). Exchanging her military grade Morningstar for that of a Wingman grade Morningstar. She had made sure that Hro's atlas was in one of the red pockets of her costume.
Even with the scroll she could use to send information, she had also thought to go to where the espionage gear was held. Something told her she might need a cloaking device and the clips that made their wings intangible and invisible for ease of blending in when on planets where the inhabitants lacked wings. The latter one of the late Paran Katar's inventions. She thought of procuring a set for Fel as well, for he might need it.
"First Lieutenant Commander Shayera Hol, do you hereby swear to secrecy, to acknowledge that a breach of the secrecy would be met with death?" Commander Synn read to her as she stood at the door of the launch room.
"I swear to secrecy, and I acknowledge that any breach of that secrecy would be met with death," she acknowledged.
"Very good, Lieutenant," Commander Synn replies with an nod. "Proceed."
Fel Andar was already in his relativity beam transporter pod as she entered. Wearing a uniform identical to hers. Assessing her as he tapped his foot impatiently. "About time, Lieutenant."
"We're right on the dot, Corporal," she spat. Oh Kalmoran, give her strength.
"Remember, try not to blink as we try to transport to your location," the technician reminded them as he powered up the transporter. Anyone knowing better that blinking would cause you to go off course from your location.
Shayera looks straight ahead. Clenching and unclenching her sweaty palms. Trying to take an deep breath without blinking. Watching as the Commander seeing them off gives her and Fel an nod as nothing but light fills her surroundings.
Had just sent her and Corporal Andar off. They had reached their location ten minutes ago – Commander L. Synn.
Hro had taken a moment to check his messages before meeting with the other two Commanders and their Lieutenants in the briefing tent. He was going to send her a message in a couple hours to assure her he was in one piece. As he had promised.
For a moment, did he gaze at the pendant she had gave him. A pendant made after an overstated figure of folklore. Who in actuality, didn't do as many things as his friend Katar and people like him believed. Except that this pendant was the only thing he had to remind himself of her. Who knows how long it will be until he hears her voice and feels her touch again.
It would be selfish to say that he wasn't the only one who missed her. "Hey, we'll see her again," Corla assured as they left Thanagar. "You'll see her again. It won't be the last time."
Corla Javat, who currently was gazing at him from the medical tent. Those sea green eyes of hers gazing in understanding before she turned to attend to whatever business she had before her. He'd be a fool to believe that she'd be the last person to understand his duress over the absence of his Promised One.
The sound of the plasma fire from miles away forces him back to reality. No, he couldn't think of her now. There was a battle that needed his attention as well as the other two Commanders with him. Shayera wouldn't want his mind million of lightyears away all the time when he had bigger priorities in front of him. When there was an war that needed to be fought.
So, he hardens up as he puts the necklace in his red belt pocket before stepping inside the tent.
"I apologize for the wait," he addresses formally as he nears the coordination table. "Now, to get to point, is there a way to deny them underground access to their pillboxes?"
Now, that is it for Thanagar. On to Earth. See you the day after New Year's my time.