Chap. 1

Blue flame shot out of the engine, heating the air into waves. The steam hissed from the catapult system and the control officer gave the signal. The pilot hit the afterburners, and the S-24 Chimera shot down the short runway, the catapult launching it into the air. The plane's chrome exterior flashed in the sun as it rocketed into the sky, banking hard to starboard to replace a damaged plane limping back to recovery.
The damaged S-17 Puma headed down at breakneck speed towards the deck; too fast for a recovery. Several firefighting teams were waiting with their gear, but the Puma never made it to the deck. The pilot blasted out of the cockpit moments before the wounded Puma smashed into the back of the carrier, exploding in a brilliant roiling red cloud. Teams rushed to put out fires and rescue the pilot, the alarm still blaring through the on-deck speakers.
Tawny stood motionless, watching the smoke drift up into the sky, thick ear protectors shielding her from the ear-splitting sounds of the aircraft carrier. Other mechanics stood around her, watching the hurry. Tawny could hear the dogfight four klicks south. Her eye could catch a faint flash off the chrome of a Chimera once in a while, too.
Three quarters of an hour later the warriors flew back in, stacking up in a holding pattern to wait for recovery. They came in low and fast, catching the wire and slowing to a stop in a second. Tawny took a ladder to a Chimera and climbed up to the cockpit. Unbuckling the pilot, she helped him out of the small cockpit. He took her shoulder and yelled into her ear to be heard. "The left aileron is sluggish. I got a bullet near it, and I think it hit something."
"Thanks," she yelled back.
For the next forty-five minutes Tawny crawled over that Chimera and three more. Slowly the cacophony of the gigantic ship quieted down; the planes were shut down, and the adrenaline from landing seven planes one after another had drained from the crew's blood. Tawny pulled her heavy helmet off and ran her fingers through her soaking wet hair, sitting down in the shade under a Chimera. She could feel the heat of the tarmac coming up through her clothes. She watched as the shores of Graician slowly appeared--first the bare smudge on the horizon, then faint outlines of the skyscrapers.
It would be the first time she had been in Graician for eight years. Even though she was a civilian, the Navy had asked her to stay on the Titanium for an extended period of time, and she had accepted. She had needed to get away from Graician when her parents died in a car crash, and the Titanium had been her ticket out. The ship was so big it felt like she was on solid ground, and the breeze of saltwater was readily available. It was her work, where she worked, where she lived. It was her life. And they were kicking her off. "A vacation," they said. This had been her vacation, for the last eight years. She loved this ship.

There were crowds and crowds of people on the piers, screaming, yelling, laughing and crying as the carrier was towed in. Confetti showered the people as the sailors disembarked with their luggage. Tawny waited until she was the last off, then wandered down the gangplank, her backpack over her shoulder. She dragged her boots through the ticker tape covering the asphalt.
"Hey."
Tawny looked behind her. A sailor was trotting down the gangplank with his bag.
"I thought everyone was off," she said.
"Evidently you were wrong," he said, coming up beside her. He was tall, with slicked brown hair bleached blonde by the sun, and his eyes were a sea green. "You did a good job with my plane. Thanks."
"What did I do?"
"I was the first one you had. The one with the bullet in the aileron."
"Oh, I do remember you. You were the only one who told me what was wrong with your plane."
"You're welcome."
She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Thank you."
"Are you from around here?"
"Ummmm...I guess not..."
"'I guess not?'"
"I haven't been in Graician for eight years. I was born here, but everything's changed a lot. Where are you from?"
"About fifty miles from Graician. My parents are farmers."
"Interesting."
"No," he said, laughing. "No, no. Very boring."
"Not a farmer boy?"
"No. Not in the least."