---

(in which we discover just why Blue wants to hurry up and get off planet…)

“It’s not just the deployment, it’s the timing,” she growled as she slung her bag over her shoulder again. “I’m going to miss the birth of my godson!”

“You’ll be back soon enough.” Sylvie winced and rubbed a soothing hand across her rounded belly. “And from what I’ve been told, you’re better off missing that part. To be clear, you better make it back.”

Blue rolled her eyes. “Syl, there hasn’t been a battle, let alone a war, in over fifty years. It’s just another escort mission to an outpost world. If I didn’t have my checkride prep to keep me busy, I’d probably die from boredom.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” Sylvie pulled her into a hug made awkward by pregnancy. “Get going, Blue. Kick all the ass and then come home and meet little . . . whatshisname.”

“You better pick out an actual name soon.”

“I’m working on it.”

Blue gave her an innocent smile. “How about after his father?”

“Nice try.” Sylvie shoved her toward the gate with surprising strength. “Get on board before your mother really does show up with potential husband number twenty-three.”

With a shudder, Blue hustled through the gate and onto the shuttle, resisting the urge to look back for fear that her mother would magically appear.

“Cutting it a little close, LT,” the stocky loadmaster muttered as he took her bag and secured it with the rest of the cargo.

Blue shrugged sheepishly and settled herself at the rear of the passenger compartment. A few moments later, the hatch was sealed in preparation for takeoff. The reassuringly deep thrum of the troop transport engines rattled her bones as she strapped into her chosen seat. Reassuring, because it meant nothing had broken on the old ship and they wouldn’t have to reschedule their departure due to endless maintenance delays. Reassuring, because it meant she wouldn’t be stuck on Mars Primus and miss her rendezvous with her unit before their deployment. Reassuring, because it meant she had once again successfully escaped her loving yet incredibly overbearing mother.

Blue’s relieved smile barely had a chance to form before a dissonant note interrupted the siren song of the engines. Tension whipped through her lean frame, and her nails dug into the seat cushion, the padding flattened to near uselessness after countless years in service. She shifted her weight, attempting to find a position that didn’t hurt her tailbone, all while listening to the keening cry of an engine about to fail. Or explode. Either was a possibility.

Legion ship or not, the ATS-8 Mule transport had been old before the Andradé War. Fifty years of peacetime operations hadn’t exactly led to increased budgetary spending on military assets, so they were stuck with an aging fleet. When she’d been assigned to the 13th Legion last year, fresh out of pilot training and very much wet behind the ears, watching the maintainers keep her ALS-71 Rhino assault shuttle in flying shape had been an education in creative swearing. Her mother, the daughter of generations of proper Martian citizens, would be appalled at the expansion in her daughter’s vocabulary. Her father, the son of a legionnaire who’d earned his citizenship in the Protectorate the hard way, would be amused.

A litany of Blue’s favorite new curses ran through her mind as the off-pitch note climbed higher. She gave it another three seconds before the pilots initiated an emergency shutdown. Then she’d be stuck, her mother would be delighted, and she’d end up in prison for matricide before the week was out.

Three . . . two . . . one—

A shudder ran through the airframe. The engine pitch dropped, right along with her heart, but then it stabilized. Her gut tightened in anticipation as the twin engines slowly ramped back up.

Come on. Come on!

She held her breath, but the dissonant note didn’t make a reappearance. The engines roared, a sound she felt as much as heard. Abruptly, she was pressed down into the uncomfortable seat as the transport ship gave gravity the middle finger and reached for the stars. She settled back in her seat as much as possible but didn’t relax. There was still plenty that could go wrong in the thick atmosphere. The ship rattled and groaned, but even though the pilots held it steady, Blue’s fingers twitched and her gaze remained fixed on the forward hatch.

It wasn’t that she felt she could do a better job, or even because she was the kind of pilot who needed to be in the cockpit. No, it was pure, unmitigated desperation that had her hands twitching for the flight controls. If her mother had mentioned Blue’s ticking biological clock one more time, or lamented her lack of grandbabies, or thrown one more cookie-cutter businessman at her, Blue would’ve screamed. Right before the aforementioned murder. Honestly, all she needed to do was present a fraction of her mother’s persistent, entirely unsubtle messages in court and no jury would convict her.

A final shudder rocked through the ship, and the brief kiss of the weightless void washed over her. As the thrusters kicked in and gravity returned, profound relief swept through her soul.

She’d escaped.

Blue slumped as much as the straps allowed and was grateful she’d been able to grab a seat in the rear of the passenger compartment. The dozen or so Legion and Navy personnel sharing the space were all at the front, leaving her relatively alone and with nobody nearby to observe her less than professional bearing.

Her wrist comm pinged to alert her to new messages, and she glanced at the screen.

mother: if you run into any delays at the spaceport, come back home. we’re having company over for dinner!

Oh, Blue knew exactly what her mother meant by company. Some semi-successful businessman named Frederic, or Robert, or John, with a fat retirement fund, diversified stock portfolio, impeccable breeding, and zero personality. No, thank you.

dad: your mother means well. That being said—run. Run far, run fast. don’t look back.

A smirk pulled at her lips. She could always count on her dad to diffuse any situation with humor. He also meant every word.

aeric: take me with you! please don’t leave me alone with her . . . i’m begging you, astra!

Her smirk widened into a true smile. Her little brother better watch out, or their mother would be playing matchmaker with him the second he came of age. Blue had suffered through the Legion’s drill instructors in basic training, harsh flight instructors in pilot training, and highly critical evaluators on active duty. None of them held a candle to her mother’s determination to shape and mold her children into what she desired. Lovingly, of course.

---

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Missed the previous snippets? No worries, I got you covered.

• Snippet 7
• Snippet 6
• Snippet 5
• Snippet 4
• Snippet 3
• Snippet 2
• Snippet 1