15 October 2025 – Above the Nevada Test and Training Range, Nye County, Nevada

Sabrina pushed the Raptor into another tight turn and flew southeast. A quick glance over her shoulder told her the F-35A was still behind her and looked like it had gained on her. Sabrina flipped her fighter into a flat, crooked Immelman, dove low, and tore northwest over Jackass Flats.

The sand-covered terrain ripped past before changing to the rising rocks of Yucca Mountain. Sabrina kept the hill to her right as she wove through valleys between other nearby peaks. She pulled through a hard right at Timber Ridge, blasted through the Pahute Mesa Airstrip airspace, and flew north-northeast toward Tonopah.

The Lightning II appeared in the distance, at a higher altitude over Timber Ridge, and closing from Sabrina’s ten o’clock. Capitalizing on the agility of her F-22A, she maneuvered into a crooked, twisted, rising corkscrew, juking and jinking in three dimensions as both aircraft closed at close to Mach 3.

Sabrina selected a venerable AIM-9C Sidewinder missile using muscle memory, locked it on, and switched to the 30-millimeter cannon. Sabrina simulated firing a wall of lead in front of the F-35 before twisting into another distorted Immelman after she passed it. Three warnings sounded in rapid succession over the joint radio channel. The tones ended as the Raptor settled three hundred yards off the Lightning’s tail.

“Your time is gonna come …” Sabrina sang from an ancient 1970s song after keying the mic. The Lightning wagged its wings and slowed.

“Jesus Christ, where did you learn to do that?“

“Here and there,” she answered. “I’ve spent a few hours in simulators.”

“‘A few hours,’ she says …” A snort. “Do you sleep in the damn things?”

“Only one seat in them, Hammer, so no. There’d be no room for my hubby.”

Another laughing snort sounded over the radio. Then, “Guards Fifteen, returning to Nellis.”

“Talon Two, returning.”

Sabrina settled onto Hammer Kladivo’s wing, allowing him to take the lead. The two stealth fighters landed in formation and then taxied to different areas. The pilots met up in the 65th’s building close to the flight line.

“Feel free to let us beat you one of these days, Sabrina,” Captain Marek Kladivo growled as the younger female pilot appeared before him.

“And where’s the fun in that, Hammer?” Sabrina replied with a smile. “Plus, I’ve only been here a week, so you guys are still learning my tricks.” She’d beaten every fellow pilot in the 65th Aggressor Squadron she faced in contests so far.

“You’d better watch out when we do, Stormy,” Marek smiled back, using his variation of Sabrina’s call sign. She liked it, but he was the only one to use it, so ‘Raikou’ was the name still widely used. Her custom Mark V HMDS still drew looks, comments, and questions.

“Pfft! Like you guys can outfly me!” Sabrina caught the slight slip in his smile. “Sorry, Mark. I barely know you, and here I am insulting you.”

Hammer’s smile regained strength. Marek ‘Mark’ (Hammer) Kladivo was the descendent of Czechoslovakian pre-World War II immigrants, about Sabrina’s age, a graduate of Purdue University, and a product of their AFROTC detachment. He knew she’d just been teasing him.

“I know you didn’t mean to insult me, Sabrina. I wish I could say that for others I’ve encountered. You have to be the most naturally skilled pilot I’ve ever met, and that doesn’t account for your Raptor training. My fighter pilot ego took a slight hit, but you’re better than I am, as today proved.”

“It’s our first contest, Mark. Remember? I just got here. That’s hardly a large sample size.”

“Sabrina, I’m guessing you barely broke a sweat during our flight, even when pulling eight Gs. I sweated my ass off trying to keep up with you and make counter-moves. We’ve got similar flight times since commissioning, but you’re miles ahead of me. I’m damn good, but I wish I could be as good as you.”

“Says the guy who smoked half a Weapons School squadron last year.”

“Well … not all at once …”

Sabrina pushed Hammer’s shoulder, throwing him off-balance for a moment. He gave her a brotherly smile, remembering when his little sister used to do the same thing growing up.

“So, are you trying to beat every 65th Guards Fighter Aviation pilot?” Kladivo asked, using the made-up name of the 65th.

“Gonna do my best, Mark. It depends if I can get to everyone before I go to TPS.”

“When’s that?”

“Dunno,” Sabrina admitted. “I’ve been wait-listed four or five times now. It feels like they’re afraid I’ll file some sexual discrimination lawsuit because I’ve gotten a bad review on something there.” Mark raised his eyebrows. “Not a chance. Either I’m good enough for that school, or I’m not. I wish they’d make up their mind, though.”

“Maybe they’re trying to find enough pilots to keep up with you?”

“Yeah, okay!” she laughed. “I’m not the best out there, Mark, even if I’m the best here!“

“Seriously, what’s next?”

“To help Tiger Bengali build Delta Flight into a kick-ass force before we help you terrorize Weapons School and Red Flag pilots.”

Sabrina and Tom drove by their house the following week. The contractor had finished all their planned work. They repainted the inside and outside, replaced the master bedroom carpet, and repaired the damaged cabinetry in the kitchen. The last item Sabrina and Tom waited on before they could move in was the installation of third generation solar panels.

“I’m shocked no one around us has panels on their roofs,” Tom said as they toured the inside of their soon-to-be residence.

“It is surprising, given the amount of sun this area gets.”

“The rapid increase in panel efficiency over the last few years may have made people wait for a plateau. The fact that they can now be easily recycled is great.”

“Installing the Neptune’s Forge 106HHR will also help lower our electric bill.”

Neptune’s Forge Model 106 Household Recycler was their latest offering. It was as small as two filing cabinets side-by-side. It would recycle household gray and black water, reducing water and sewer bills while providing the household fusion the company was famous for. Both had grown up in homes with similar products, so recycled drinking water from a Neptune wouldn’t phase them.

“That’s the other thing I can’t believe people here don’t have!”

“Inertia is hard to change. The lack of rainfall is part of it.”

“I guess so. Are we sticking with Southwest decor or something else?”

“Seaside decor wouldn’t really work, would it? Maybe ‘Southwest Light?’”

“We can do that. What do you think your chances are this year?”

“As good as they’ve been the last few,” Sabrina replied with a shrug. “They might be trying to get good people in there before they have too much time in service.”

“That will eventually include you, you know?”

Sabrina and Tom hosted their parents for Christmas at their new house in Nevada. Lights hung from the house’s soffit, candles shone from each window, and an imitation Christmas tree stood in their living room. Two guest rooms were set up, since the garage still had plenty of storage space. The sixty-degree weather outside made everything feel off for the New England natives.

“This doesn’t seem natural …”

“Dad, don’t forget Adriana grew up in Hawaii,” Sabrina reminded her father as they sat outside on the patio. “I’m sure there wasn’t a lot of snow at her house at Christmas when she was a kid, either. She’s probably more used to this kind of weather than the weather in Chicago.”

“Where’d you get the tree?”

“Target, Dad. Not a lot of real trees for sale in parking lots around here. They dry out within hours.”

“Cheeseburgers, everyone?” Tom asked as he stood next to the grill.

“Don’t forget the bacon!” John Jones called from next to Jeff.

“Dad, I forgot the bacon on your burger once. When I was twelve!”

“Still not a perfect record, kid!”

“How do you find work at your new squadron, Sabrina?”

“I just follow the street signs, Mom.” Keiko shook her head at her daughter’s reply to her question. “It’s fine, Mom. Tiger Bengali is a great boss, and I get along with almost about everyone there.”

“‘Just about?’” Anne Jones asked.

“Two pilots tried to pick Sabrina up when we stayed at the Bellagio, Mom,” Tom explained.

“That must have been a sight to see!” John crowed, smiling at his daughter-in-law. “How many parts did you chop them into?”

“They’re still intact, Dad,” Sabrina replied. “We only use simulated weapons during training flights.”

“I’m sure they cringe whenever they see you.”

“Only a little.”

“Tommy, have you found a job yet?”

“Yeah, Mom. I’m at the Legal Aid office on base again. I still like working there instead of someplace in the normal civilian world.” Tom took a drink from his beer. “We’ll start preparations for tax season after New Year’s.”

“Tax Day’s not until mid-April,” Jeff reminded him.

“I know, Dad, but we have to be ready before the end of January. There are some people who file their returns as soon as their W-2 comes out.”

His father and Sabrina’s father were some of those people.

“So, Sabrina, what are you and Tom doing in your off hours?” Anne asked, taking the focus off the fathers.

“Teaching Tommy how to fly, Mom.”

Anne sat upright.

“Gotta try to keep up with the little lady, Mom,” Tom added.

“Good luck with that,” Tom’s father snorted before sipping his cocktail.

“Tom’s gotta start somewhere, Dad,” Sabrina pointed out to her father-in-law.

“Yeah, and you’re only, what, Sabrina, fifteen years ahead of my youngest?”

“Okay, yeah, but the instructors at his flight school are pretty good!”

“What are his chances of getting access to the Raptor?”

“Uh, fairly slim, Dad,” Tom answered for his wife. “The Cessna 152 is a nice little aircraft, though. It’s still faster than driving from airport to airport.”

“Still, Tommy,” Anne said, full of worry.

“Mom, flying is also safer than driving to and from the airport for the lessons.”

Anne still didn’t look convinced. She looked at her daughter-in-law, then back at her son. Tom smiled back.

“You don’t think I’ll be a good pilot, do you? Sabrina’s way out in front of me, natural-skill-wise – and always will be training-wise – but I’m learning. It’s another experience we’ll share.”

Sabrina wrapped her G-suit around her hips before zipping the legs closed. She looked over her survival vest for the necessary supplies, even though she had inspected it yesterday, too. There is no room for complacency with the speed of her aircraft. Her Mark V MHDS checked out just fine, also. She walked out of the women’s locker room and into the hall. First Lieutenant Gary Takami waited for Sabrina. He stiffened when he saw her.

“Chill out, GTO,” Sabrina said, calling him by his call sign.

Takami had been with the 65th since the start of the new year two weeks ago and was still getting to know his fellow squadron mates. Like Sabrina, he was ‘Sansei,’ or third-generation Japanese-American. Unlike Sabrina, he didn’t speak a word of Japanese.

“Come on, Ryōki, time for briefing.” She waved down the hall toward the briefing room and began walking.

“‘Ryōki?’ What’s that?”

“Wingman. I could call you a noob if you want?”

“I’ll pass on that, Ma’am.”

“Raikou.”

“‘Raikou?’”

“‘Thunder God’ or, in my case, ‘Goddess of the Shitstorm.’” Takami gave her a sidelong glance as they walked to the briefing room. “I have a bit of a reputation.”

“I guess so!”

“Step inside the briefing room, so we can hear what damage we’re supposed to inflict today.”

Sabrina and Gary sat together since they would be together on a two-aircraft flight today. Flights Bravo and Delta would provide the adversary aircraft for Red Flag Class 26-1. Major Deirdre ‘Rusty’ O’Reilly gave the briefing as the senior of the two flight leaders. The flaming redhead went over flight patterns, tactics that mimicked Warsaw Pact force tactics, call signs, communications plans, altitude restrictions, and length of training.

“Your head spinning yet, Gary?”

“Only after the first ten minutes.” The briefing had been thirty minutes long.

“Tell me what you heard.” As shocked as Gary said he was, he heard and remembered everything. “You got everything. Now let’s go execute our portion of the plan.”

Sabrina and Gary Takami flew northwest to their assigned area under the call signs ‘Warhawk Three’ and ‘Warhawk Four.’ Their targets appeared on the radar fifteen minutes later. Barely.

“We wouldn’t have missed them even if they weren’t yapping so much,” Sabrina muttered to her wingman. Their adversaries flew into the training area, appearing to disregard possible danger.

“So, who is that?”

“Four aircraft from Japan’s 301st Tactical Fighter Squadron. They’re from Misawa Air Base in Aomori Prefecture and fly F-35As.”

“I don’t speak Japanese. Does it always make people sound so full of themselves?”

“Nope. Those pilots are full of themselves. They sound like they think the F-35 will keep them hidden from radar and that their Japanese will keep their intentions secret.”

“Little do they know …”

“Right. Follow me as briefed.”

“Warhawk Four, Wilco.”

The Raptors twisted low along the terrain, using it to mask themselves further before popping up behind the foreign planes. Someone from the 301st must have been paying attention because they broke into two flights of two before the Warhawk flight reached them.

“Stay with me!” Sabrina barked to Gary before diving after the left-hand flight of two.

The two Japanese craft didn’t stand a chance against Sabrina and were quickly eliminated. Sabrina led Gary back to the other two Lightnings. Anticipating their maneuvers and eavesdropping on radio transmissions allowed her to guide Gary into position. He racked up his first training kill on the wingman as Sabrina eliminated the flight leader. The swearing was epic.

“Warhawk Three to Sentry. Red Flag flight Juliet Four has been eliminated.”

“Sentry copies. Warhawk and Juliet flights, return to Nellis.”

The two F-22A and four F-35A aircraft returned to the southeast, weaving into Las Vegas airspace. The Raptors landed on Runway 03 Left before the Japanese planes landed on 03 Right. Sabrina led Gary to the flight line canopy reserved for their fighters. They shut down the aircraft, checked in with their crew chiefs, and walked to the NTTR building for debriefing.

Major Abrams waved Sabrina and Gary to the bathrooms and snacks before they sat in the briefing room. The Japanese arrived five minutes after they sat and didn’t look happy.

Abrams went through the AWACS recordings and pointed out the flaws he noticed in the Japanese entry to the training area. He asked Sabrina if she agreed and if she spotted anything he hadn’t mentioned.

Sabrina’s counterpart, Captain Daido Nakamura, looked pissed when he entered the room. His look changed to surprise upon seeing Sabrina. That she was female shocked him enough, and that both Americans looked Japanese added to that. The American description of the flight made Captain Nakamura rethink his thoughts. Nakamura hesitated for a moment when Abrams asked for his viewpoint.

Captain Nakamura had to agree with Sabrina’s opinion of his flight’s behavior when they first entered the training range. They expected to kick American ass, given how good they were back home, and hadn’t considered enemy might be waiting for them. He was about to answer further when one of his pilots muttered something in Japanese, causing him to pause again. Sabrina’s head snapped around to stare at the other pilot. The look of respect she’d given Captain Nakamura disappeared when she turned to his lieutenant.

“We cheated, Lieutenant?” Sabrina growled in English. “How did we cheat? Do you think Major Abrams and his staff told us your plans?” The ice in her stare was almost visible. “You bring shame upon your superior officer. You opened your damned mouth on an uncoded radio frequency. You didn’t stop to consider a nation of immigrants might have citizens who speak your language?

“I learned Spanish in school. I learned German after I joined the Air Force. Unfortunately for you, I am Sansei. My mother’s parents are from Shobara. They taught their kids to speak both English and Japanese. My uncle Kenji taught my father when they served in the Army together. I learned your language from both parents, and we only speak Japanese when able.”

She turned up the stare and stated, “Don’t speak to me, or near me, again.”

Sabrina rose and bowed to Captain Nakamura. She thanked him in Japanese for acknowledging his errors. Nakamura returned the bow before glaring at his officer. Abrams ended the debriefing soon after.

“Captain?” Nakamura said to Sabrina as everyone rose.

He looked like he wished to speak to her further. Sabrina nodded to Gary, indicating she’d meet him in the hall. Sabrina and Captain Nakamura motioned to chairs, each trying to invite the other to sit first. They shared a laugh before sitting at the same time.

“Captain, thank you for what you said to me earlier, and I apologize for Lieutenant Ishida’s comment.”

“Captain, it takes courage to acknowledge your own mistakes. My parents both taught me that in their own ways.”

“I am Daido.”

“Sabrina.”

“Your father served your country? Along with your uncle?”

“My father, uncle, grandfather, great-grandfather, several uncles by marriage … There is a significant history on my father’s side. Only my mother’s brother served the United States on her side.”

“My family also shares that history of service. I hope your experience today does not discolor your opinion of Japan.”

“I speak to my cousins in Hiroshima Prefecture regularly and visit them as often as possible. My love of your country has not changed today.”

“I thank you for that, Sabrina.” Nakamura rose. “I must return to our squadron.”

“May your visit here prove educational at all levels, Daido.” Nakamura smiled at his new American friend. They separated after exchanging contact information.

“Nicely done, Captain,” Major Abrams said as she emerged from the briefing room. A Japanese lieutenant colonel stood with him. Sabrina bowed to the officers before answering.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Colonel Saito also appreciates your interaction with Captain Nakamura.”

“Indeed I do, Captain,” Colonel Saito confirmed. “My family is also from Hiroshima Prefecture. What is your mother’s family name?” Sabrina told him about the Takahashis. “My son might be dating one of your cousins, Captain. He has mentioned that last name to my wife and me.” The colonel gave a slight bow. “Thank you for reinforcing my good opinion of your country’s warriors.”

“Thinking of taking up international relations after you leave the Air Force?”

“No thanks, Hammer,” Sabrina replied, shaking her head.

She and Gary Tamaki sat with Mark Kladivo and his wingman, Ashton Finnegan, at one of the off-base restaurants near Nellis. All four wore civilian clothes. Tommy knew Sabrina would be home after dinnertime because she was out with colleagues. He had no concern about his wife’s motives. He and his wife were confident in their relationship.

“That lieutenant seemed like a little jerk,” Gary muttered before biting into his sandwich.

“He was on the wrong side of the line we all walk, Gary,” Hammer pointed out before Sabrina could. “We all possess incredible skills as fighter pilots, skills many people don’t come close to. But don’t think for a minute that we know everything there is. I know I’m as clueless about medicine as anyone who’s never flown is about our job.”

North Vegas isn’t always the best area, especially near the base. Three clumsy characters entered the restaurant’s bar and provided examples of why that is true. They were immediately loud and rude to both staff and customers. Hammer, who had already asked for the check, paid quickly.

The Air Force group never made it outside. One of the unpleasant three stepped up to Sabrina and looked her over.

“Well, shit!” he crowed with an unsavory breath. “Aren’t you the little hottie!”

“Seriously?” Sabrina sighed as she rolled her eyes. “We’ve had a rather long day, so if you’d move aside … ?”

Dumb-ass placed a hand on Sabrina’s left hip.

“I’ve got some other moves you’ll like, little girl …”

That was as far as dumb-ass got.

The look on Sabrina’s face didn’t change before she moved. Dumb-ass gasped and grunted due to Sabrina’s hold on his wrist. Then she kneed him in the crotch. When he dropped to the floor, Sabrina turned to face his compadres.

“Who’s next?” she asked.

The other two weren’t as brave as their friend. They raised their hands before reaching down and dragging the first idiot away.

“Do you see why I don’t mess with Raikou, guys?” Hammer asked as they walked out the door.

Sabrina was halfway through a flight planning meeting two days later when her phone started vibrating in her pocket. She clicked a side button to stop the vibration and send the caller to voicemail. She had to click it again when that person called back. Five minutes later, it vibrated once, indicating a waiting voicemail or text message.

“How many messages do you think you have, Sabrina?” Tiger Bengali asked as they packed up.

“My phone vibrated once after the calls, so maybe just one,” Sabrina answered as she pulled the offending electronics from her pocket. Tiger saw Sabrina’s face turn pale when she saw her phone. Sabrina slumped in her chair.

“Sabrina?”

Sabrina held up a pointer finger, asking Tiger to wait as she dialed.

“Tommy?” she asked in a shaky voice.

Tiger watched as her eyes reddened and tears formed. He grabbed his bag, left the room, and closed the door behind him. He blocked the door until it opened a few minutes later.

“Sabrina?” Tiger asked as the normally stoic and reserved pilot appeared, looking neither.

“My grandfather ... Mom’s father ...”

Tiger guided her to the squadron office.

Two days later, Sabrina wore a traditional black kimono as she stood in the receiving line at Sofu’s wake. Ryan had come out from Enfield with their father’s parents. Alex and a pregnant Anna flew out from Chicago with ten-month-old Matthew Knox. Tommy’s parents sat in chairs while they watched Matty. The number of people who came to honor Sofu and his family didn’t surprise her.

Sabrina wore her Air Force uniform the next day, at her grandmother’s request while everyone else in the family wore black. Sobo told Sabrina how proud Sofu had been of his granddaughter and the path she’d chosen. Wearing her uniform would be a way for Sabrina to honor him. Tommy stood next to her in his black suit once again and held her hand when he could.

Ryan had looked lost, much as he had the day before. Sabrina and Alex sat with him during the after-funeral reception.

“What is it, Ry?” Alex asked. Ryan looked away from his siblings and the other guests.

“I didn’t reconnect with Sofu like I have with Grandma and Grandpa,” Ryan mumbled. “Now that chance is gone.”

“Hard to do from forty-five miles and ninety minutes away, Ryan,” Sabrina heard herself say.

“Not if I had cared …”

“Don’t, Ryan,” Alex answered, cutting his brother off. “Deep down, you cared about Sofu, and we all know it. Right now you’re getting yourself back together after five years off the grid. You have a job that keeps you busy. You also told me last week you just jettisoned your girlfriend because she tried to drag you back into the life you were brave enough to leave. When things like that are right in front of you, hitting you in the face, how are you supposed to keep your mind focused?”

“Why don’t you ask the badass over here,” Ryan retorted while waving at Sabrina. “She’s gone through more shit since middle school than ninety percent of out there. Don’t call me ‘brave,’ Alex.”

“We all have our own battles, Ryan,” Sabrina added. “Yeah, I’ve fought the discrimination BS for quite a while, but I’m finally ahead of it. I hope to be where Alex is – a parent – one day, but with my career, who knows if I’ll ever get there. Give yourself a break.”

Ryan didn’t answer. He rose from his chair and walked over to Sobo. He stood next to her while she talked to some of her neighbors. Alex and Sabrina smiled when Sobo placed a hand on Ryan’s shoulder as she introduced him.

“It’ll be a long way back, but at least he’s taken that first step.”

“I doubt I’ll be able to support him much, Alex, not from Nellis. If I get into TPS, it’ll be even worse.”

“Grandma and Grandpa are behind him, Sabrina. Given the pull they still have in Enfield, he’ll be fine. The Bilzarians wouldn’t have hired him otherwise.”

“Talk about déjà vu there,” Sabrina muttered, though their father got his job at Bilzarian’s Hardware by himself. “Anyway, what’s next for you?”

“Nothing much,” Alex answered with a shrug. “Waiting for that patent to roll through.”

“Along with the next kid?”

“Only six more months to go …”

“Plus eighteen years …”

“At least. Where’s Mom?”

“Over there with Anna, Matty, Aunt Kara, and Jenni Masterson. Too bad Matt’s carrier is out on a cruise.”

Their cousin Matt Masterson was still a Navy pilot and in charge of the carrier air wing on the Ford-class USS John F. Kennedy – the ‘CAG’ of CVW-17. Called a carrier air group until 1963, the title of CAG for the wing’s commander stuck to this day. He was based at NAS Lemoore in California and chided Sabrina on her choice of military branch whenever he could.

Sabrina retorted that at least she knew how to fly a modern aircraft. While Matt was ‘qualified’ to fly an F-35, ninety-nine percent of his hours were as an F-18 pilot. She also joked that he needed a flash card to remind him how to fly the F-35.

Her parents’ doorbell rang toward the end of the reception. Sabrina walked to the door, opened it, and almost fainted.

“I knew ye’d turn into a beauty, lass.”

Hamish MacDougall almost fell off the porch when Sabrina shot out of the house to hug him.

“Uncle Hamish!”

“I came to pay my respects to your family, lass. It t’were a wonderful service for Takahashi-sama.”

“Come in! Come in!” Sabrina said, nearly dragging Hamish across the floor.

Her father recognized the newest arrival before anyone else inside and got Mayumi’s attention. He brought her over to Sabrina’s first flight instructor.

“What happened to your red hair and beard, Hamish?” Jeff asked while shaking Hamish’s hand.

“DAD!”

Everyone laughed laughed at Jeff’s question except Sabrina. She stood displaying the classic angry Sabrina look: a scowl and fists on her hips.

“T’were too easy tæ spot me with that mass o’ flames on me head and face, laddy.”

Sabrina sighed in resignation. You think she’d be used to the male sense of humor by now, especially her father’s. She waved Tommy over.

“Uncle Hamish, this is my husband, Tommy Jones. Tommy, this is my uncle, Hamish MacDougall.”

“I don’t remember too many Scotsmen in Sabrina’s family,” Tommy quipped while shaking Hamish’s hand.

“Oh, næ, lad. But when your lass expresses her thoughts on somethin’ …”

“Understood, Sir!” Tommy laughed. “An edict from on high!”

Sabrina’s resigned expression returned. Her father and father-in-law were alike in their sense of humor, and John’s had been passed down to his sons – Tommy especially. Of course, her temperament was – colorful – too.

She pulled Hamish to a seat after he’d expressed his condolences to Sobo and her mother.

“What are you doing now, Uncle Hamish?”

“I’m done with chasing the bad folks around, that’s for sure, lass. They let me go almost a year ago.”

“Why didn’t you come back before today, then?” Sabrina was not happy. Tommy grasped her hand lightly, reminding her to remain calm.

“I didn’t know how to approach ye, lass,” Hamish admitted.

“What?”

“Ye’r a lady now, lass. An officer. I was næ an officer, I can tell ye. I know ye’ve been stationed away from here, and ye have a life with yer man now. It’s been a while since ye flew with me.” Hamish looked down as he rubbed his hands. “When I read aboot yer grand, I knew I’d waited too long. I … I was there today, lass. At the services. I kept m’distance, to not make it aboot m’return.” Hamish looked back at Sabrina.

“Ye’r all the family I have left, lass. You and your family. I have acquaintances I worked with tæ fight the slavers, but none other than Pablo Centaño I’d spend much time with like you and yours. Pablo has his own family now, two little young ones. I cannæ bother him vurry often.”

Sabrina gave the man she called her uncle a fierce hug.

“And I wouldnæ be where I am without ye, either, Uncle Hamish! F-22s! Forget the baddest mother eff-er in the valley! I’m the baddest bitch in the sky! And that started with your teachings.”

“Raikou …” Tom whispered.

“‘Raikou?’”

“The Japanese god of thunder, Mister MacDougall,” Tom explained. “Though if you ask her colleagues it’s ‘the Goddess of the Shitstorm.’”

“Channelling yer Da, are ye, lass? And it be ‘Uncle Hamish’ to you, lad, as ye’ve married my niece here.”