As Ariana sat there, her hair getting ruffled by a charming Frenchman, she couldn't help but reflect on the absurdity of what was happening around her. A flighty Japanese pilot was congratulating her, an axe wielding Frenchman was saying good job and ruffling her hair, one of the UEE's top aces had just proclaimed that he'd bet on the right horse, meaning her, and an AI was practically bouncing in excitement over Ari's kills. Nothing, not training, not her father, and especially not civilian life, could've prepared her for the sheer insanity presently surrounding her. She'd killed three people, sure she didn't expect to be berated for it, but she'd expected the mood to be a bit more...somber. Instead, all these other pilots were acting like she was 6 and had just passed her very first math test. Of course, beneath this torrent of praise, what could she do but blush bashfully? It was like being back in High School dammit, and that was not a sensation she'd expected after coming back from flying a high-speed killing machine through space while shooting other killing machines with plasma.

"[color=0072bc]Uhh, thanks everyone...I did my best.[/color]" She rubbed the back of her head in embarrassment, trying to hide her incredible shock at the mood. With her free hand she tugged at the sleeve of her uniform, the camouflaged fabric serving as an anchoring point for her thoughts. She was glad she'd done so well, to be sure, though upon reflection it was just a little scary how she'd gotten during the battle. She remembered the feeling of that tense grin on her face as the adrenaline pumped and the bullets flew. It wasn't something she'd experienced in training, she was told she'd always worn a serene face during her fights in the sims. Of course, she knew at least part of the reason for this was that no real peril lay in the simulations, and suddenly she understood why she had been told sim combat was nothing like real battle. Yes, she had fought real people, combat pilots in the sims, and she'd seen their tactics and countered them. However, she hadn't been flooded with that spiky, panicy adrenaline. She hadn't been forced to make calls based purely on her instincts, on her gut. She understood that now, that real combat was wild, untamed, not calm and peaceful like the simulations had been.

Bringing her mind off her reflections, she gingerly removed her hand from the back of her head and noted the small burn marks on her hands. It seemed the consoles might have been sparking a little, not that she'd noticed in the cockpit. Apparently she'd been more blinded by the adrenaline than she thought. They were small, and didn't even hurt that much though, nothing like the wounds some of the other pilots had. She was lucky the Astelion's cockpit seemed to be seated behind more of the armor layers than usual. This, no doubt, had something to do with how the previous pilot of the Astelion had met her fate...Tori Astelion was her name, wasn't it? The woman had once fearlessly flown that machine, and no doubt was special to her squad mates, had been torn away just as easily as the squadmates of that III had been torn away by McKnight. "[color=0072bc][i]In the end, I wonder, what makes us so different from those Coalition pilots? Maybe we're the same, behind the layers of armor, or the inescapable badges on our shoulders. Those men I killed.....they may be just like me. Who knows, maybe one of them was on their first run too. Maybe they were excited to meet their new squadmates and their MAS, just like I am, and were catapulted into combat for their first time. They may've been just like me, with one exception. I'm alive now, and they aren't, I was faster on the draw, a little quicker on the dodge, a little luckier..[/i][/color]"

She was shaken from her musings by the sound of the ship's AI declaring that they were transitioning into hyperspace. For a brief moment, as the ship rumbled, the power went out. Of course, she was used to this much at least, as she'd been on vessels as they transitioned before. She stretched out and winced slightly at the feeling of her body popping and stretching. She'd had her muscles so tight from stress that they'd coiled up inside her. Combined with the fact that she'd been in zero-gs for the entire ride, and her muscles weren't having a fun time with this. After about a minute of this, however, it subsided and she could feel her body returning to normal. It was clear to her that she'd have to stay more relaxed in the cockpit like the rest of her teammates were. After all, she didn't see any of them doing any painful popping and stretching, though she supposed Alice wouldn't have to no matter how tense she'd been in the cockpit. In the end it seemed being an AI had certain advantages that Ari envied, at least for the moment, though the fact that Alice hadn't ever really had a non-military life more than made up for her body not requiring stretching and popping. Besides, it probably required all kinds of un-pleasent maintenance rituals of its own, so they were even.

And then, Ari's eyes skated over to the shuttle some of her teammates had saved. Black and shiny, somehow simultaneously, it bore the sigil of the Imperial Service. Next to it, a group of Sentries sat similarly painted and branded, and below them their pilots. Her dad had never trusted the Imperial Service, they were wild cards who were loyal only to the Emperor, not the UEE and its people. Her father told a tale of the one time he'd seen them in battle. They'd had chance to save a whole squadron of fighter pilots from a squadron of Coalition MAS suits. Instead, they'd darted off to guard the shuttle of some obscure member of the Imperial family who wasn't even in immediate danger. Then, however, she noticed how close their hands were to their guns, and that made Ari even more nervous, as she knew that if whoever had come in that shuttle ordered them to open fire and gun down every pilot in the bay, they'd do it. They may not win that firefight, but they'd try without hesitation, and have a decent chance of winning.

Ari's own hand rested on the grip of her .45 casually, keeping the Imperial pilots in the corner of her eyes. She'd already killed three people today, survived her first trial by fire, she was not going to die in a hangar bay. If she was, she'd die in a firefight, not easily like some sheep to the slaughter. For now, though, she shook those thoughts from her head and focused on her teammates. They'd all come out alive and relatively unwounded, so that was cause for celebration. However, all those people on the Ulysses, and in the other UEE vessels, they'd died without the support the Lincoln could provide. Sure, they may have a more important mission, but how long would it have taken to help win the battle and save those people? Surely, no matter what they were doing, they had the time to help save a whole planet right? Perhaps, then, it hadn't been some big important mission that had drawn them away. Perhaps it was the selfishness of whoever owned that shuttle, their own bid for self preservation. To save their own life, they sacrificed hundreds, maybe thousands more, and that wasn't acceptable. Ari frowned then, this realization dawning on her, and she mumbled "[color=0072bc]I can't believe we had to leave all of them behind, it's terrible. We could've won that battle, I'm sure of it, between the Lincoln and all of you we could've won that fight if only we'd stayed around to do it.[/color]"

________________________________________

As Ari walked into the room, she was pretty sure she knew exactly was coming. Her father had told her plenty about the boring parts about being a pilot, and one thing that didn't change no matter what you flew was an after action report. As he'd described it, it was "[color=f7976a]The squad leader pretending to care about the bureaucracy pretending to care[/color]" So, when the droning on about efficiency and kill counts began, she paid attention but didn't expect anything to come of it. It was when all that was over that the squad leader really surprised Ari.

Trapp spoke of some pilots who'd died before he'd ever met the 7th or Ari, of his old team. He spoke of things that would've broke Ari, and yet he had persevered through them. She couldn't help but respect the man ever more for the things he'd seen and done, what he'd had to go through, and came out the other side. She wasn't sure if she could handle flying with people for heaven knows how long and then watching them die. For much the same reason she had even more respect for the pilots of the 7th then before. They'd lived through Tori's death, were still living through it, but managed to be happy, and managed to welcome her. She appreciated it, more than anything else, then however Trapp continued.

He spoke of entitlement, something he seemed to believe the members of the 7th MAS team suffered them. He said they expected to be patted on the back for a job well done, and Ari felt a little guilty for indulging in the praise from earlier. She shouldn't have, she'd just done her job and protected the UEE and her squad mates. He said they defied orders, though to be fair she wasn't sure if they did. She hadn't been able to see everything the others did on the field, because she'd been focused on herself and McKnight. That wasn't the worst of it though, as Trapp moved on to talk about Tori Astelion. In doing so, he unknowingly reminded her, rather forcefully, she wasn't one of them.

He spoke of the glowing reviews Tori always gave of her team, of how she defended their competency to the end. Yet, she couldn't relate, she hadn't ever known the woman, she had no such person to vouch for her competency. He spoke of the grand expectations she'd had for the squad, expectations Ari didn't think she could fill. He said they were shaming her legacy, a legacy Ariana had no part in at all, a legacy that she may never hear anything about other than the scraps she'd already been fed. He said he wasn't going to change them and he wanted them all to get along, though now Ari sported a grave frown as he wrapped up.

When Trapp mentioned the admiral, that frown curled into a scowl. That man had made them abandon the people of Cerol and the other UEE soldiers in space, and he'd done it for himself. Trapp acknowledged the man was spineless, and Ariana knew that even she, with her blind panic upon first entering combat, rated a bigger spine than that man ever could hope to earn. Yet, Trapp also made sure to point out that no member of the squadron could screw with him. Elite pilots or not, he was an admiral, and a relative of the Emperor, he had more power in his toenail clippings than any pilot would ever hold. It was terrible, it sucked more than anything else, but it was completely true. They couldn't afford to anger that man, disappoint him, make him upset in any way, shape or form. He could have them all dishonorably discharged and the 7th disbanded in a heartbeat, and they all knwe it.

Finally, however, it seemed the dark and heavy stuff was over as he called for them to follow the traditions of the pilots who had come before. They were going to drink for the fallen, who couldn't drink anymore, and to celebrate Ari's success. Of course, she grimaced at this, as even in college she'd never been a drinker. She'd been a "good girl" so to speak, and hadn't ever been one of the people invited to parties. She sighed at this, and mumbled to herself "[color=0072bc]Good gosh, I don't want this to be my first drink.[/color]"