"It is!"
"That's her, right?"
"I don't believe it. They actually brought her back."
"What did they call her?"
"The White Flame. Remember, that video from the first year of the war where she captained that ship with the white shield?"
"Right, the dragonfly."
"The Firefly, moron. That ship destroyed more Republican forces than any other in the war."
"I saw it once, at the Battle of the Pillars. She defeated Alan Germain, the captain of the Israel. He was undefeated up until then."
"She beat Faro Lukin too."
"She beat everybody."
"She annihilated the First Republican Fleet at the Battle of the Coal Saks. An entire fleet, man."
"How was she not a Fleet Admiral by the end of the war?"
"She turned it down."
"She killed my brother at Jupiter's Crossing. I wonder if she even bothers to remember him."
"Your brother was a wiring technician. She doesn't even know he existed."
"She should still remember. Who knows how many people she's killed."
"It was a war. Everybody was killing everybody. Do you remember everyone you killed?"
"I didn't kill anyone. I just followed orders. She gave them."
"She out flew Buck Walters, remember?"
"Oh yeah, I still have that recording on my tablet."
"I still have the poster the team in engineering made."
Finley always inspired conversation. Had when she was a child, and the adults were complaining she was anti-social because she preferred books to people. Had when she was a teenager working out her issues with her parents and her boredom with the male half of their high school population. And she definitely had when they'd joined the Americans Military Academy, and she'd broke every record they had.
Well except the fitness records. Evan had broken those, but she'd been a respectable top ten in all of them.
She'd always had a commanding presence. She wasn't traditionally beautiful, at least according to the current fads. She had too many curves and too much strength to be petite and she was taller than most women at five twelve not including her preference for heels. She was built to fight, she always said. Tall, strong, and flexible enough it was impossible to pin her down.
She usually had her long dark auburn hair in a braid or, on her days off piled on her head in a messy bun and there was always dark kohl eyeliner in a pin-up style around her violet eyes.
As a teenager they'd all been into the ancient movies of the 20th century and Finley had been thrilled to see someone else with her eye color in the old idol Elizabeth Taylor. It had been a needed confidence boost for the high schooler that had developed early on top of already being taller than her peers.
And as an adult it was a minimal but elegant routine to keep up.
Plus, everyone still seemed to underestimate a pretty girl in makeup even though it was the 32nd century and the most dangerous and successful captain of the most devastating war in human history, so far, was one.
It even matched the new uniforms.
But she also had a charism that she'd grown into, hardening under fire like a diamond and a mind like a lightning strike, bright, vicious, and deadly.
As a commander she wasn't known for being exceedingly kind, but she was fair and liked to give her people responsibility and room to grow. Most of the people who served under her during the war had been fanatically loyal by the end of it.
She was also so laid back it was hard to make her honesty angry. She tended to just roll with the punches, which is what she did now as she, Evan, and Russo managed to untangle themselves and a few quick tugs straightened out their uniforms.
The former Federals snapped to attention when she stroud through the formation, parting like the red sea and immediately saluting as she walked past.
The click of her heels on the steel floor was the only sound as she made her way to the launch pad in front of the formation.
The Loss was hidden behind the huge doors, having arrived late last night. Only Finley had been present to see it arrive, a tradition of hers after she'd lost the Firefly to Republican Gordon Ramsey at the Battle for Sky Colony. She'd lost other ships in the years since, but only the Firefly had been destroyed in active battle.
She'd still won but loosing that ship had been heartbreaking.
An NCO darted over and shoved a small box in front of the landing platform, a makeshift step so she could walk up, instead of trying to jump in a dress uniform.
She made sure to catch his eye. "Thank you."
He snapped off a salute but otherwise stayed completely blank faced. "Yes, ma'am." A Republican, but one who valued professionalism over grudges.
Someone to be admired, she thought as she took the makeshift stage, Evan and Russo hot on her heels. Littlefoot skipped the step and leapt onto the platform like there wasn't even a height difference between it and the floor. If Finley hadn't learned the hard way that she could make a jump over seven feet, she'd have been surprised.
She was also a little attention whore, prancing back and forth on the platform when she realized she had a large number of eyes on her and yiping at the soldiers in the front rows that cooed at her.
"That's Fintan?" Someone in the bad whispered/yelled.
Finley outright smirked then. "Yes, I am." Finley's voice carried through the translating chips all soldiers had installed in their ears. Commanders and Captains were allowed to have their voices transmit to prevent them from having to yell, but it was really only required for emergency's.
Or dramatic speeches.
Like this one.
"Holy shit." Someone closer muttered.
"I'm Captain Fearghail, but Fintan is fine. Welcome to the first space mission launched by the United Earth Sphere." Her smile softened, becoming more welcoming, while Evan and Russo tried to look less intimidating on either side of her.
Well, Evan tried. Russo never bothered because it never worked.
"Why is someone from the losing side Captain? There are plenty of Republic Captains." Someone snapped.
Finley didn't miss a beat. "Yes, but I beat all of them and no one ever beat me."
A few scoffs sounded in return, but most of the bay was silent. Finley's record was well known, even to the Republicans.
"It's true. I was part of her crew when she took down Fourth Fleet. They didn't have a single captain and ship that managed to survive." A young soldier in the middle section chirped. Finley thought the overly cheerful face looked vaguely familiar.
An accent voice piped in from the front. "Hey now, that's not entirely true. There was one ship that managed to out fly her." He sounded like he was from the Old State of Texas, which while the states were really states anymore, still clung to its independent identity and put out a ridiculously high number of soldiers and cowboys.
He looked like one too, Finley noticed. He had a couple inches on her. Tall, lean, and sturdy with bright blue-green eyes she could see from the platform and dirty blond hair she suspected spent more time wild than well-coifed like it was right now.
He looked like trouble.
And Finley loved trouble, and her smile took on a decidedly hungry edge. "That's true. There was one that managed to hang on until the armistice was signed."
Texas grinned right back. "No one else ever came that close, I'll give you that, ma'am."
She could almost see the cowboy hat being tipped in her direction. "You're Beau Callahan."
"Of course he is." Evan muttered, already clocking the gleam in Finley's eye.
"Yes, ma'am." The soldiers around him laughed and clapped him on the back. Proud of their friend's recognition.
"Excellent," Finley purred. "You're Chief Pilot."
~ tbc
*Fearghail is pronounced like Farrell.