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gazed at him.
    “Cargo is limited,” she said at last. “Don’t pack too much.”
    He let out a breath. “Just the essentials and my tech gear. I haven’t confused this operation with shore leave.”
    “You’ve got a damned tough mission coming up,” Frayne said. “Not sure if I should envy or pity you.”
    “ Celene should be careful.” Ensign Skiren chuckled, and eyed Nils. No one doubted that she and Frayne were a couple, but as she sized Nils up, there was healthy feminine appreciation in her gaze. She looked back at Celene, grinning wickedly. “The quiet ones are always the most dangerous.”

Chapter Three
    Celene glared at the Phantom-class ship in the docking bay. Its lines were sleek, and she’d flown other Phantoms enough to know their engines packed a decent thrust. Calder and Kell were busy making last-minute adjustments to the systems, while she, Admiral Gamlyn and Mara had one last confab before setting off on the mission.
    “Engineering has run a protocol,” the admiral said. “All the ship’s systems are working at peak ability. It’s armed with front and rear-facing guns. The shields are at one hundred percent. What seems to be the problem?”
    “It’s not a bad ship.” Celene eyed the Phantom. “But it’s not my ship.”
    “I know how you feel,” Mara said. “After I joined 8 th Wing, I couldn’t get rid of my old tow-ship. I still take the Arcadia out every few solar weeks. Kell says it’s a heap of junk, but I think he’s got some sentimental attachment to it.” The former scavenger’s eyes gleamed, and Celene could guess that Mara was reliving the early, combustible days of her relationship with Kell.
    “It’s not just sentimentality.” Celene waved a hand toward the Phantom. “My Black Wraith has superior maneuverability, better weapons.”
    The admiral answered, “Black Wraiths aren’t designed for deep space missions. The Phantom is. Further, if Marek’s disruptor is implemented against your Wraith, you and Lieutenant Calder would find yourselves alone and helpless.”
    Exactly as Celene had been once before. She wouldn’t let anyone else in Black Wraith Squad feel that way. If that meant she’d have to fly a Phantom for this mission, she’d do it.
    “All right.”
    Admiral Gamlyn smiled, wry. “Delighted that my decision meets with your approval, Lieutenant.”
    “Sorry, ma’am.”
    The admiral walked over to Calder and Kell, and the three of them began discussing the modifications, including the device Calder had installed to track Marek’s power signature.
    “Hey, look at it this way,” said Mara. “Everyone knows you kick ass flying a Wraith. Now you get to show ’em what you’re really made of. Prove your skills as the best pilot in the 8 th Wing.” She paused. “Third best.”
    Celene raised a brow. “Third?”
    “Kell’s first. Then me.”
    “When I get back from this mission, you and I are going to have a little competition. A few races, some obstacle courses. Then we’ll see who claims the title.”
    “Deal.” Mara stuck out her hand, and Celene shook.
    “Being a legend isn’t all free drinks and backslaps.”
    Mara rolled her eyes. “Right. The naked idol worship is extremely inconvenient.”
    “Try having a bad day when your lover thinks the Corvalian sun shines out your ass. Break a nail. Stub your toe. Or, hells, maybe you don’t want to talk about what an amazing pilot you are. Maybe you simply want to watch dumb comedy vids that night. When he looks at you like you just killed the Solstice Bird, then you and I can talk about the price of being the best.”
    Mara stared at her. “Fuck. Celene, I—”
    With a shake of her head, she refused any sympathy. “The cost of expecting the best of myself. If making sure the 8 th Wing can beat PRAXIS means I don’t have a date on shore leave—” she shrugged, “—that’s a damn small cost.”
    Still, Mara’s gaze held far too much sympathy for her comfort. Mara planted her