Deep in my heart though, my world was crumbling. To never fly again? Could I live knowing that?

Jorgen and FM saluted with gloved hands while wearing new, crisp white uniforms. I clapped with the rest of the crowd for the eight graduates, but I couldn’t help thinking that we’d lost at least three times that many ships in the last four months. Not so long ago, a good pilot in the DDF could fly for five years, rack up a couple dozen kills, and retire to fly cargo. But casualties were getting worse and worse, and fewer and fewer pilots lasted five years.

The Krell were winning. Slowly but surely.

Ironsides stepped up to speak. “Normally, you’d expect a bad speech from me right now. It’s practically tradition. But we have an operation today of some importance, so I’m going to leave it at a few words. These behind me represent our best. They are our pride, the symbol of our Defiance. We will not hide. We will not back down. We will reclaim our homeland in the stars, and it starts today.”

More applause, though I gathered—from conversations around me—that such a brief speech was odd. As some refreshments were set up on tables to our right, the admiral and her command staff walked away without mingling. More strangely, the newly commissioned pilots followed her.

I craned my neck, and saw a flight of fighters shoot up into the air from a nearby launchpad. Was there an incursion happening? Did they really need all the graduates? After spending the last few days down with my mother and Gran-Gran, I had been looking forward to seeing Jorgen and FM again.

Booms sounded in the distance as the fighters got a safe distance from the base, then hit overburn and accelerated past the sound barrier. A nearby man noted that the important assembly leaders—including those who had children in the graduating class—weren’t in attendance at the graduation. Something was happening.

I took a step toward the launchpads, then shoved my hands in my jumpsuit pockets. I turned to go, but stopped. Cobb was standing there, holding a cane with a golden top. That was odd; I didn’t think I’d ever seen him carry one of those.

Even in his sharp white uniform, he seemed as old as a weathered boulder lying in the dust. I saluted him. I hadn’t been able to face him, face any of them, since being shot down.

He didn’t salute back. He limped over to me, then looked me up and down. “We going to fight this?”

“What is there to fight?” I asked, still holding the salute.

“Put your hand down, girl. You were close enough to graduation. I can challenge that you should at least be given a full pin like Arturo was.”

“I’d never get to fly, so what does it matter?”

“A full pilot’s pin is worth a lot in Igneous.”

“This was never about a pin,” I said. I looked over his shoulder at another flight launching into the air. “What’s happening?”