Already she had trained on many different models of military spacecraft, from sluggish former tankers to fast Remoras to middleweight Manta cruisers to powerful Thunderhead weapons platforms. She had met every challenge and was sniffing for a real fight.

Many of the other recruits had groaned at the exhausting training: A dozen or so even dropped out and accepted dishonorable discharges. But so far, Tasia had never been pushed beyond her limits. Thanks to years spent honing her skills, she was accustomed to trials as part of her daily life. It disappointed her that the vaunted EDF did not demand higher standards of excellence.

Tasia found herself at the top of her class, her scores almost perfect. She was hindered only by her impatience with military protocol.

Robb Brindle helped her run those political and personal gauntlets, and Tasia flirted with him just enough that he probably lost a little sleep at night (and so did she, at times). Tasia toyed with the idea of a romance with Brindle, though she’d never before have considered the son of two Earth military officers as a potential mate. As the daughter of a clan leader, Tasia had always been prepared for a well-placed marriage alliance with another important Roamer family, just like Jess and Ross.

As she thought of her brothers, she clenched her jaw with steely resolve. While growing up, she had hero-worshiped Ross and Jess. They had protected their sister, without smothering her. They let Tasia fight her own battles and rescued her only when it was necessary. It usually hadn’t been necessary.

When she and Robb had dinner together, Tasia often talked about her brothers, and about her rigid old father. She had been stung by Bram’s death, remembering her last fight with him, wishing they could have parted under better circumstances. But she knew she had made the right choice, following her own Guiding Star.

Considering the clumsy performance of the other kleebs, Tasia wondered if she might be Earth’s best hope for fighting the deep-core aliens. With the loss of her father and Ross, Tasia wanted to make her clan proud. Only Jess was left.

She decided she’d had enough of this silly exercise. She opened the comm channel again. “I’m done playing hide-and-seek, Brindle. My butt is sore from this cockpit chair. Let’s go back.”

She spun her Remora in a backward arc away from the asteroids. With Brindle keeping close pace, they raced back to the EDF base, confident they had achieved the best score in the piloting exercise.

In the hangar bay on the Mars installation, Tasia climbed out of her Remora, groaning from a stiff back and legs. She wished she could install her own pilot’s chair from the Tamblyn clan shuttle she had flown to Earth. Or maybe she could talk Brindle into giving her a massage. That wouldn’t take much convincing.