The Eaglets:

  A year can feel like a lifetime. In twelve months, so much can happen that looking back makes your head spin. That about summed up the past year for Cate. It was nearly Christmas when Sam Carter had shanghaied her into the Stargate Program, and nothing had been the same since.

  After that whirlwind first year, returning to the Alpha Site as part of the resident Aggressor Squadron almost felt like a holiday. Of course, they were still the base’s first line of defence if trouble came knocking—and it did, in the second week of Cate’s tour. Two Lucian Alliance Al’kesh had come calling, likely intending to strafe the base as they had in the early days when only two F-302s were on standby. Things had changed since then. By 2009, there were two full squadrons assigned to the Alpha Site, not counting training units. One pilot in particular stood out—Francis Bianchi, now a Lieutenant JG, was proving his skill in the venerable F-16D, part of the aggressor wing. At just twenty-two, he had notched another kill, bringing down an Al’kesh and earning the title of youngest ace in the Stargate Program.

  There was another milestone for Cate. She had to admit that the Stargate Program was no passing phase in her life—it was her life. With that realisation, she sold her property at Tanilba Bay and bought a hundred-acre spread outside Colorado Springs. The house was only three years old, not too big, but perfect. She brought her four horses over, fretting over them through their quarantine in Frisco like any mother would. At least their new home had a proper stable and a dry barn—essential for their first real winter.

  Cate had kept in touch with young Tyra Caerau over the past year. The Invincible had done two short rotations as planetary guardian, as most ships of the 1st Fleet did, usually for two weeks to a month at a time. Each reunion followed the same pattern: Cate would be minding her own business, only to be crash-tackled by the ever-growing girl who seemed to gain another inch with every visit.

  Today, she thought she had a plan to avoid it. The ‘Buzzards’ were conducting bombing drills for cadets, and Cate had a theory session to run. The students had progressed from the Cirrus SR20 basic trainer to the T-6 Texan III, and Cate’s job was to hammer home the importance of formation flying, communication, and—above all—paying attention. She figured she had fifteen minutes before class began and used the time to set up—placing textbooks, prepping instructional videos, running through notes.

  The door banged open behind her.

  “Cate!”

  A golden-haired blur crashed into her, nearly knocking her off balance. Tyra wrapped her in a fierce hug, beaming up at her.

  “I missed you so much!”

  Cate couldn’t help but smile. It had only been a couple of months since their last visit, but Tyra’s enthusiasm made it feel like years.

  124th Eaglets Bombing Training – Alpha Site

  The 124th Eaglets sat lined up in their T-6 Texan IIIs, twelve aircraft in a razor-sharp row, their canopies glinting under the high sun. In pairs, they lifted smoothly from the Alpha Site’s tarmac, banking southeast toward the bombing range fifty kilometres beyond Foreston.

  Cate watched their departure from orbit, settled in the cockpit of her F-16b her hands resting lightly on the controls. She wasn’t alone; another student occupied the backseat, observing the squadron’s movements alongside her.

  The exercise was straightforward: precision bombing runs, one after another, in coordinated twos. A foundational skill; timing, controlled descents, and disciplined pull-ups. Nothing overly complicated, but that was exactly the kind of training that lulled pilots into complacency. Cate had drilled it into them from the start: the target isn’t your only focus. Situational awareness is what keeps you alive.

  The first few passes were promising. The Eaglets kept their formations tight, their calls crisp. Lieutenant Dean Matthews, a senior instructor and well-loved member of the Buzzards, guided Cadet Rachel Cheong, one of the program’s rising stars, through their run.

  Cate caught herself nodding. Solid. Matthews was one of the best.

  Then, a flicker of hesitation.

  She saw it before it happened; the momentary fixation, the fraction-of-a-second delay. Matthews and Cheong were too locked in on their run, on their angle of attack, on making the perfect drop.

  And they weren’t pulling out in time. Cate’s stomach twisted. She didn’t hesitate. “Two-Four, pull up!” Her voice was sharp, cutting through the comms. “Pull up!”

  There was a half-second of static… too long.

  Then a sickening, gut-wrenching crunch as the T-6’s wing clipped the ridge. The aircraft spun violently, barely had time to cartwheel before the ground swallowed it whole.

  A bloom of fire. A shock-wave through her bones.

  No ejections.

  For a long, stretched-out moment, the coms were silent.

  Then, finally, someone’s voice cracked over the channel.

  “Control, this is Eaglet Three, we… we lost Two-Four.”

  Cate forced herself to swallow against the knot in her throat. Her hands flexed on the stick before she steadied them. “Everyone form up. Back to base.” There was nothing more to do.

  Alpha Site – Ready Room

  The ready room was silent.

  No murmuring, no nervous energy, no shuffling feet. Just the quiet, heavy weight of reality sinking in.

  Cate stood at the front, arms folded, her face unreadable as she scanned the cadets before her. Some had their eyes down, fixed on the table. Others stared straight ahead, faces pale and drawn. She let the silence stretch. Let them sit in it. Then, finally, she spoke.

  “Formation. Communication. Situational awareness. I’ve drilled this into you from day one. Because in the moment, it’s not your fancy flying that’s going to keep you alive. It’s keeping your damn head where it needs to be.” She took a slow step forward.

  “Today, we lost Lieutenant Dean Matthews. We lost Cadet Rachel Cheong. Not because they weren’t skilled. Not because they weren’t experienced. But because they lost focus for a split second. And that’s all it takes.” Her voice never rose. She didn’t need to shout.

  She could see it in their faces… they felt it. The sheer weight of what had happened. Cate let out a slow breath. “You will carry this with you. And if you ever find yourself in that same situation, if you ever feel yourself getting tunnel vision, I want you to remember this moment. I want you to remember why we never, ever take our eyes off the big picture.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Another long pause.

  “Dismissed.”

  The cadets filed out quietly, some with red-rimmed eyes, others stiff with barely contained emotion. Cate remained where she was, staring at the empty seats. The door creaked open again. She didn’t look up.

  Footsteps. Then silence.

  Cate exhaled and pressed her palms against the table. "Tyra, if you’re here to…" She stopped when she finally lifted her head.

  Tyra stood just inside the door, shoulders squared, but there was something uncertain in her posture. Something careful.

  For a moment, neither of them spoke.

  Then, slowly, Tyra stepped forward and sat on the edge of the nearest table, close but not intrusive. "A year ago, you sat with me in this same room after the bridge." Her voice was quiet. "And you told me that some things never stop hurting."

  Cate didn’t answer.

  "You were right," Tyra murmured.

  Cate inhaled, then let it out in a slow, controlled breath. "I can’t afford to break, Tyra."

  "I know." Tyra’s voice was steady. "That’s why I’m here."

  Cate turned the coin over in her palm.

  The room stayed quiet.

  Then the door opened again—this time, just a crack.

  Tyra glanced over her shoulder.

  Dusty.

  He paused in the doorway, catching sight of Tyra sitting there, the two of them in quiet conversation. He didn’t step in, didn’t interrupt. Instead, he leaned casually against the frame, arms crossed, waiting.

  Cate noticed him but didn’t acknowledge him yet. Not until Tyra finally gave her a small nod, a silent reassurance, before standing.

  As she passed Dusty, he met her gaze for the briefest moment—an unspoken understanding exchanged between them.

  Then, as the door clicked shut, Dusty pushed off the frame and walked inside.

  Cate let out a breath. "You waited."

  "You looked busy," Dusty said simply, settling into the chair Tyra had just vacated.

  They sat in silence.

  "You, okay?" he finally asked.

  Cate gave him a look.

  "Right. Stupid question."

  Another pause.

  Dusty leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "You know, you can talk to me."

  Cate smirked faintly. "And you can shut up."

  Dusty’s lips twitched. "Fair enough."

  More silence.

  It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t forced. It was the kind of silence that came with years of understanding—one forged in the cockpit, in training, in the unspoken bond between pilots who had seen too much.

  Cate finally looked at him, the edges of her composure fraying just slightly. "He reminded me of Ben, you know?"

  Dusty’s jaw tensed. He knew.

  And he knew that Cate would never say more than that.

  So, he didn’t push.

  Instead, he did the only thing he could. He stepped forward and pulled her into a firm, grounding hug.

  Cate didn’t resist.

  She let the silence hold them for a moment longer before she stepped back, straightening. "Thanks."

  Dusty smirked faintly. "You’re still a pain in the arse, Taipan."

  "Wouldn’t have it any other way."

  He clapped her on the shoulder before stepping back. "Get some rest."

  Cate didn’t answer. She just reached into her pocket, fingers closing around the old coin she kept there… a relic from a billiard game not so long ago. A reminder.

  She flipped it over in her palm and closed her fist. Some lessons came too late.

  And some never left you.

  The weeks and months rolled by, there was routine now and Cate could live in that world. She hated disorder and chaos. Not that she had hated this last eighteen months, no, she revelled in it. But, when possible, calm is what she preferred. Mid-Winter came and she spent some time at home, and not alone. Tyra had her first visit to Earth, which of course came with its difficulties, she couldn’t naturally introduce the girl as an alien from another world; well, the alien part wasn’t quiet right, Tyra was very human. So, a week before leaving, a false ID was drummed up for her, Officer Cadet Tyra Banks from Cardiff in Wales. That locality was chosen because of her accent, nothing there had to be practiced. Cate’s only flaw in the plan was if they actually met someone from there, so that cancelled out the British and Irish Lions tour play against the Wallabies, and she was so looking forward to that.

  Tyra’s reaction to Earth was it’s beauty. Especially seen from the seat of a 747 jetting across the Pacific. And the warmth of Cate’s home, both physically and that coming from her parents and brother. But it was over all too soon and they were back at it for the remainder of the term. At least the girl learned how to ride. That was a buzz for both of them.

  The one single factor the students had to adjust to, was that becoming a well rounded pilot wasn’t all about flying. There was a lot of theory behind it, which involved endless hours of study and classroom work. As well, all students were required in their four years, to be graduates in one of the following studies, science, physics, maths or a field of engineering. This was something Cate was able to really sink her teeth into, having succeeded in gaining her PhD in Applied Physics, with her speciality being in Engineering Science in the field of Nanotechnology. Heavy stuff as Ben often told her, as he could never understand her passion for such impossible mind bending studies, just to be a pilot in the Air Force. He had always been a lazy student, and he gave his twin sister credit for getting him through ADFA, to graduate as an infantry officer with Army.

  She was in one of the larger classrooms early one morning, setting things up for the day’s lessons. Cate was reflecting on a number of things, apart from looking out the window at the beautiful spring day that filled her view. Cherry blossom trees, brought from Japan by a team from that country on their way to Pegasus. A chart lay in front of her, with progress scores of all the students in her academic classes, what amazed her was the fact that he cadets from Vegema were always at the top. In subjects such as math and science, they were all a good two years ahead of their peers from Earth. One other little thing she was jotting down in her diary, it had been over five hundred and sixty days since she had been on a date and more than that she could say she had been celibate. She was quite sure the Nuns at her old High School would be most pleased with that, considering she had been labelled as a bit of a floozy in her teenage years. She wasn’t of course; it was nothing more than a nasty rumour circulated by a group of jealous girls in her year nine class. Cate being who she was though, played it up just to spite them. Lost in her thoughts, her radio going off loudly and suddenly, brought her back to the waking world. “Squadron Leader MacGregor report to the briefing room stat! “Squadron Leader MacGregor report to the briefing room stat!”

  “Fu…” She stirred quickly, knocking books off her desk. On the way out students were about to file in. She spoke to Tyra rapidly. “Get everyone settled, you can start the study from chapter four of Nanomaterials. I’m needed in the bunker.” The bunker of course the local term for the bases main complex.

  She sprinted towards the parade ground, her pulse quickening as she approached the scene. The air was thick with tension, the gathered personnel buzzing with subdued alarm. The ruined podium stood in stark contrast to the normally disciplined setting. Cate took one look around and blurted, “What the hell happened here?”

  Colonel Michelle Bixby turned to her, expression grim but steady. “Sniper attack during morning formation. Two injured, wood splinters. Shooter’s on the run.”

  Cate’s jaw tightened. “Colonel if I may, I’d like to lead the hunt… I erm, have a few skills”

  Bixby gave a firm nod. “I know you, I read your file. Find out who did this Cate.” She paused, adding. “And Cate, be careful.”

  “Yes ma’am.” Cate wasted no time. Tyra had already disobeyed orders by coming outside with the other students to see what was going on, but Cate knew she had the skills for this. She picked her, along with a Marine captain who had fought alongside them during the war on Vegema.

  One of the SFs nearby approached them. “I’m pretty darn sure it came from over there.” He pointed southwest. Indicating a cluster of buildings among the trees. “By the angle of the shot, I’d say they were high up.”

  “And you know this because…” Cate looked him up and down, noticing his rank. “…lieutenant.”

  He gave her a flat look. Something that told her immediately, he’s been there, done that. “I was a cop for ten years, Cleveland SWAT for five ma’am.”

  That was good enough. “Thank you.” She gathered her small team, together, they set off towards the suspected sniper position, the main stores rooftop.

  Climbing up was quick but tense. Once on the roof, Tyra was the first to spot the discarded sniper rifle. “Got it,” she called out, crouching near it. “Still warm.”

  Before they could investigate further, a gunshot rang out in the distance. They all spun towards the sound, instinctively ducking. Cate’s heart hammered in her chest. “That came from the grove of trees south of here. Move!”

  They raced across the open space, weapons ready, adrenaline spiking. It felt like forever getting there, but among the trees, they found a female SF soldier, slumped against a tree trunk, blood seeping through her uniform. Cate dropped to her knees beside her. “Stay with me. What happened?”

  The woman’s breathing was laboured. “Shooter… wounded… my knife. Took my G36K and two mags.”

  “Male or female?” Cate pressed.

  “Female. Dark, short hair. Olive complexion.”

  Cate exchanged a glance with Tyra and the Marine. “She’s on foot. We track her.”

  As she spoke, medics rushed to them, a young woman dropping to her knee besides the wounded SF. Cate dipped her head towards her. A Brit, Navy. “Make sure she lives Petty Officer.” Her voice was sympathetic, caring.

  “I will Squadron Leader. You do what you have to do.” She replied.

  Before they left, the wounded SF called to Cate. “Ma’am, take… my… side arm.”

  Reaching down to take it, Cate held the woman’s arm for a moment. “We’ll find her.” She tucked it into the waistband of her jeans. That simple act made her realise how she was dressed this morning. As a lecturer she wasn’t required to wear her uniform on teaching days and Cate was more than enthusiastic about following that edict. Along with her jeans, she was wearing a very plain brown jacket and sturdy boots.

  A blood trail led them towards the storm drains. It was narrow, winding, and forced them to move cautiously. As they entered, the air turned damp and stale. Their footsteps echoed ominously in the confined space. They followed the trail deeper, the dim light forcing them to rely on a single tactical flashlight, attached to the captain’s rifle. They were descending, the Marine, Carl Dempsey, made an offhand comment. “Might be clipped, but she’s movin’ fast.”

  “Noted.” About a hundred meters further in, Cate noticed something odd; a crevice in the wall, just big enough for someone to squeeze through. The blood trail vanished into it. An obvious hand print on the limestone.

  “She’s in there,” Tyra whispered. “That’s her left hand.” She pointed to the messy stain.

  Cate nodded, signalling for silence. They pressed forward into what started as a natural cave, the stone walls damp and uneven. The passage sloped downward again, forcing them to move carefully. The deeper they went, the more unsettled they felt. There was a long curve in the stone, forming an arch of sorts. Carl eased forward slowly, glueing himself to the wall.

  A flash of movement to his right as the arch opened up. The crack of gunfire. The Marine captain grunted, stumbling backwards. Cate caught him, but it was too late—he was already gone. Tyra’s eyes flashed with fury. “I’ll handle her,” she hissed.

  “Tyra wait!” She disappeared, but Cate had an idea what she was up to. Cate picked up Carl’s M4, then edging forward, she found a position of cover, then firing a controlled burst to keep the shooter’s attention on her. Tyra vanished somewhere into the shadows. Moments later, there was a sudden scuffle; a cry of surprise… then silence. When Cate moved into the open, she found Tyra kneeling over the unconscious shooter. She had a rock in her hand.

  “She won’t be a problem anymore,” Tyra muttered, breathing hard.

  Cate was about to respond when something caught her eye; a smooth, flat section of the cavern wall. “Huh!” She said to herself. Frowning, she stepped a little closer, running her bare hand over the surface. Dust and grime crumbled beneath her touch, revealing symbols. Ancient writing. She’d seen some of it on Vegema, and some in lectures back at the SGC.

  Her breath caught. Without realising it, she had triggered something. A deep hum vibrated through the ground. Then, with a quiet hiss, the wall slid open. A faint odour, like age, the passing of millions of years.

  A tunnel stretched beyond; dark, metallic walls, and unmistakably Ancient. As she stepped inside, lights flickered on automatically, casting an eerie glow. A buzz with each light.

  Cautiously the crept in just that much further and then stopped. Both their hearts were racing.

  Cate swallowed hard, glancing at Tyra. “I think… I think we should let Bixby know about this, don’t you?”

  All Tyra could do was to nod and stare.