1991
By Starbuck92 - starbuck92@yahoo.com 


RATING: R

WARNINGS: Language, minor character death, sexual situations

CATEGORY: Romance, Angst, Action/Adventure

PAIRINGS: Sam/Jack UST, Sam/Other (in the past)

SPOILERS: Nemesis, Small Victories

TIME FRAME: Season 4 

SUMMARY: Flying and friendship, love and loss – what was Sam Carter's 
life like during the Persian Gulf War?

DISCLAIMER: The lovely characters of Stargate SG-1 do not belong to me, 
and I am making no money off this story. Please do not archive without 
permission.

Author's notes at the conclusion of story.

Please note: I began writing this story in late November of 2001, several 
months before the second war in the Persian Gulf erupted. Looking over 
this fic now, I thought it prudent to attach some kind of warning that 
this story heavily involves much description about the trials and 
tribulations soldiers experience during wartime because I know some 
people are uncomfortable reading about such things in times like these. 

This is based on actual events that took place during the Persian Gulf 
War; however, the characters and situations that were written for them 
are purely fictional and are not based on any actual person(s).

Dedicated to the troops - their courage and bravery protects and 
strengthens us all. Godspeed.


                         *******************

Chapter 1

One year. One woman. One life forever changed.

                         *******************

Five days.

Five days had crawled by since the three members of SG-1 had gated to 
P3X-234 after detonating the explosives aboard Thor's ship, destroying 
the Replicators that had been poised to invade Earth. The majority of 
that time had been spent performing what had become routine daily tasks: 
gathering food, exploring the area surrounding the Stargate, and resting 
at the small camp they had constructed upon their arrival.

At dawn each day, an attempt was made to dial home in the hope that 
Stargate Command had finally set up the beta 'gate. Each evening, as the 
sun dipped down below the horizon, disappointment settled in, all three 
knowing they had to endure yet another night on the unfamiliar world.

In the beginning, the beautiful weather, tranquility, and lack of angry 
natives made for a pleasant change, an unconventional vacation away from 
Earth. It may not have been the land of sky blue waters, Colonel Jack 
O'Neill had observed, but it was sweet nonetheless.

Unfortunately, the sweetness was short-lived.

As time passed, tension began to flare between O'Neill and his second-in-
command, Major Samantha Carter. The frustration and monotony of being 
stuck on a remote planet light-years from home had been fraying their 
nerves, steadily mounting until it had come to an inevitable rupture the 
fifth night of their extended stay.

The team sat huddled close around the crackling campfire, sharing their 
evening meal of fruit in relative silence. After O'Neill had had his 
fill, he lay back on the soft grass, gazing up at the glittering stars 
above.

"Hey, Carter," he called.

"Sir?"

"What are the odds of you being able to build something to get us off 
this rock?"

Irritation surged through Carter.

Throughout the course of the day, O'Neill had pestered her endlessly, 
insisting there must be some other way to return home. By midday, her 
patience had worn thin, and she fought to restrain herself from issuing a 
rash remark she'd later regret.

"Well, sir, as I've already mentioned, we don't have anywhere near the 
materials required to build something as simple as a UAV. What makes you 
think we'd be able to build any kind of spacecraft to get home?"

Folding his arms behind his head, O'Neill grinned at her.

"Oh, I don't know, Carter. You seem to be able to get us out of every 
scrape we get into. Thought you might have some ideas."

She raised her eyes to meet Teal'c's, noting the silent warning that 
O'Neill wasn't in the best of moods. Carefully, she considered her reply, 
unwilling to allow the colonel an opportunity to pick a fight.

"No, sir. No ideas this time around."

"Ah, that's a shame. I guess our little wizard doesn't have every magic 
trick in the book like we thought she did, huh, Teal'c?"

O'Neill turned, presenting Carter with a sardonic smile and waiting 
expectantly for her next remark, but the expression on her face quickly 
put an end to his foul mood.

The color had drained from the major's face, leaving her ghostly pale as 
she sat staring at the colonel in shock. Before another word could be 
uttered, she quickly excused herself, fleeing from the camp.

Briskly walking through the winding path between the trees, Carter 
listened for any indication that she was being pursued by either of her 
companions. Fortunately, the crunching leaves underfoot and her harsh 
breathing were the only sounds that reached her ears. O'Neill and Teal'c 
had chosen to give her some space, leaving her alone.

She wandered without aim on the pathways, trying to clear her head. After 
a couple of hours, she returned to the quiet campsite, ignoring the 
curious looks from the colonel and bidding Teal'c a good night as she 
settled down to sleep.

As dawn broke on the sixth day, Carter found herself lying awake beneath 
the fading canopy of stars, thankful for the tranquility the early 
morning hours brought. All night she had mulled over her thoughts, 
repeatedly replaying the exchange between her commanding officer and 
herself.

Damn it, she hadn't expected to react to strongly to the colonel's words. 
It wasn't the teasing. She handled that gracefully on a daily basis. It 
was the words, so casually spoken, that had wrenched her heart.

An old nickname she thought she'd never hear again.

Furiously rubbing suddenly tear-filled eyes, Carter stood and stalked 
over to the nearby Dial Home Device. The compulsion to return home to the 
SGC was stronger than ever, where she could easily lose herself within 
the mazes of tunnels, avoiding having to explain her abrupt departure the 
night before.

As she touched each of the symbols for Earth's address on the device, the 
corresponding chevrons on the inner ring of the Stargate glowed.

Chevron five...

Chevron six...

"Come on!"

The seventh chevron remained unlit. Annoyance flooded through her as she 
kicked the base of the DHD.

"Now that's not very nice."

Spinning around, she found Colonel O'Neill standing at the edge of the 
clearing, leaning against a large tree trunk and watching her every move.

"I didn't mean to startle you, Carter. I was just coming to try dialing 
home, but I'm guessing it would have been pointless," O'Neill explained 
as he gestured to the inactive Stargate.

Immediately, Carter jumped into military mode.

"Sir, the seventh chevron will not engage. The SGC must still be setting 
up the beta 'gate back on Earth."

"I can see that, Major. I don't think you'd be kicking a poor, 
defenseless DHD if it had worked," the colonel flippantly remarked.

If he was hoping to win a smile from her, he failed miserably. She merely 
stood before him, her eyes focused on the ground, her expression 
unreadable.

"Carter," O'Neill called.

Unable to resist the voice of her commanding officer, she reluctantly 
raised her eyes.

"You want to tell me what's up?"

The major smiled tightly, hoping her excuse would satisfy his curiosity.

"I'm fine, sir. Just a little frustrated."

O'Neill grinned ruefully, his eyes twinkling roguishly.

"Hard to keep occupied on a deserted planet when you're way smarter than 
the rest of the inhabitants?"

She remained silent, forcing O'Neill to take another approach with her. 
He stuffed his hands in his pockets, kicking a small rock on the ground.

"Look, Carter, I know the last few days have been a little rough between 
us," he muttered.

"I know, sir," she quickly responded, grateful that he was doing his best 
to make amends. Apologies weren't easy for him.

"Would it help if I said I'm sorry for being a pain in the ass?"

Blinking in surprise at his bluntness, she searched his eyes, finding 
genuine sincerity behind his gaze. His honest apology ebbed away the 
tension, and after a brief moment, the initial astonishment at his 
unexpected request for forgiveness dissipated.

Giving him a small smile, she replied, "Apology accepted, sir."

A broad grin spread O'Neill's lips.

"Good, 'cause Teal'c promised to make my life a living hell if I came 
back without you."

"I don't doubt that for a second, Colonel," she retorted, her smile 
growing wider.

They stood before the Stargate for a few moments, basking in the warmth 
of the rising sun and the presence of each other's company until O'Neill 
nodded to one of the trails.

"Walk with me, Major."

Without another word, the pair trundled off into the forest. The sunlight 
illuminated the familiar paths between the trees, bathing the plant life 
on the ground in a multitude of colors. Another beautiful day was 
breaking on P3X-234.

"It's a nice way to spend our leave, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah. I've had a blast," he replied dryly, his lips twitching in 
amusement as he heard Carter chuckle.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the sidelong glance he cast in 
her direction, instantly recognizing the expression. The slightly knitted 
eyebrows and set of his jaw were indicative of the look he typically 
reserved for moments in which he was debating whether or not to make note 
of something. There had been many times he'd given her that look just 
prior to asking about something scientific he didn't understand.

Apparently, the desire to voice his thoughts won out.

"Carter, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, sir."

"Last night," he began, but paused when he saw her flinch. After a few 
moments, he hesitantly continued.

"What did I say?"

Carter was quiet for several minutes, unsure of how to respond. The need 
to tell someone, anyone, about the feelings that were rising from the 
deepest recesses of her heart prodded her consciousness. Her analytical 
side insisted her past should remain buried, her secrets and memories 
belonging to her and her alone, but a long-forgotten ache had torn open 
once again, flowing as surely as the blood that coursed through her 
veins.

Glancing up, she was met by concern and a hint of curiosity in the 
colonel's brown eyes. Over the last three years, she had learned to trust 
him implicitly. When he dropped his sarcastic mannerisms, he listened 
wholeheartedly to whatever she had to say, even when he couldn't make 
sense of it.

Finally finding her voice, she quietly answered, "Something you said 
reminded me of someone I was very close to."

"Anyone I know?"

"No, sir. He was an old friend of mine. We attended the Academy and 
flight school together."

O'Neill nodded once, but remained silent, obviously expecting her to 
continue.

Taking a seat on a fallen log, she waited until he joined her before 
resuming.

"Sir, this is something I haven't talked to anyone about. I've never even 
mentioned it to Daniel."

His face registered his surprise at the admission. He was well aware of 
how easily she and Dr. Daniel Jackson, the team's archaeologist and 
linguist, talked to each other about anything and everything.

"So... What does this have to do with?" he cautiously inquired.

"The Gulf," Carter answered simply.

"Ah."

His unenthusiastic response didn't faze her. She knew that Colonel 
O'Neill had acquired some of his personal demons during the Persian Gulf 
War. The topic was a sensitive one, something not often spoken of. He had 
never questioned her about any of her experiences in the war, either, and 
she had never volunteered any information. She hadn't been sure if he was 
even interested until now.

"Care to tell me about it?"

"Yes, sir. I would."

                         *******************

Saturday, September 15, 1990

First Lieutenant Samantha Carter zipped up her flight jacket, shivering 
in the early evening breeze. The nights had rapidly changed from 
comfortably mild to unbearably frigid as the first stirrings of winter 
approached Utah's Hill Air Force Base.

When she had first enrolled at the Air Force Academy in Colorado, the 
abrupt change of weather conditions had shocked her system. The endless 
string of tough classes, the demanding hours of physical exercises, the 
strenuous flight instruction – none of it compared to the bite of the 
cold air in the Rocky Mountains.

As luck would have it, her first assignment out of the Academy and 
subsequent two-year instruction in flight school had been Hill, where the 
weather seemed even more brutally cold than in Colorado Springs. It would 
be a cold day in hell when she finally grew to appreciate the low 
temperatures and constant snowfall.

Sighing impatiently, she checked her watch for the third time in the last 
five minutes.

Thompson was late again. Oh, he would pay.

Knowing him as well as she did, she'd bet good money he was still eating 
dinner at the commissary while she was freezing her ass off outside 
Hangar A waiting for him. How typical.

Shaking her head, Carter chuckled as she considered her long-time best 
friend and fellow aviator.

She had met First Lieutenant Joshua Thompson during her first year at the 
Academy, both of them eighteen years old, full of ambition, and yearning 
for an academic challenge. Despite having come from two very different 
backgrounds, Carter instantly found a kindred spirit in the hotshot 
cadet, their personalities and goals fitting together like a couple of 
jigsaw puzzle pieces.

Joshua Thompson was born and raised in Texas, where his father managed a 
small airfield outside of Austin. As a boy, he'd spent hours playing in 
the hangar bays with his younger brother David. Whether it was building 
model aircraft or watching pilots land and take off from the runways, 
airplanes had been at the center of the Thompson boys' younger years.

Eventually, David had set his sights on politics and law when he grew up, 
but Joshua knew where his heart lay. His eyes had turned upward to the 
friendly skies, and he worked hard to receive a congressional nomination 
of consideration for the Academy. His parents were openly concerned with 
his decision to join the military, but Thompson felt a career in the Air 
Force would strengthen his chance for acceptance into NASA as an 
astronautical engineer someday.

His best friend's childhood was a completely different story.

Samantha Carter had lived the life of a military brat, traveling around 
the world from air base to air base with her Air Force officer father, 
her mother, and her brother. After her mother died, Carter immersed 
herself in her studies, submerging her emotions under the complex 
theories and equations of science and mathematics to keep the pain at 
bay. Upon her high school graduation, she decided to attend the Academy, 
which turned out to be fairly easy with her father's aid.

Jacob Carter had jumped at his daughter's willingness to build a career 
in the military and immediately set her up for a nomination of 
consideration. But in fact, she had other ideas. Like Thompson, she 
joined the Air Force only in the hope of bolstering her chances to become 
a space shuttle pilot one day. The lifelong dream of becoming an 
astronaut took precedence over everything else in her life, and with each 
passing year she came closer and closer to attaining it.

As she pulled on her leather flight gloves, Carter smiled.

For years, Thompson had adamantly proclaimed she would soon be at the 
helm of his modified version of the shuttle, rocketing through space 
while he monitored her progress from Cape Canaveral. In response, she had 
pointedly reminded him how many late night study sessions she'd endured 
tutoring him before he mastered the laws of physics, telling him she'd be 
counting on his engineering expertise once she finally stepped on board 
his shuttle.

Tilting her head back to observe the sparkling stars far above, she 
fondly recalled the day she'd met Thompson.

It was her first day at the Academy and she had been sitting in Professor 
Monroe's physics class when a cadet had rushed in the door, skidding to a 
stop as he searched for an empty seat in the full classroom. The entire 
class came to a standstill as everyone curiously turned to see who the 
latecomer was.

Evidently remembering Thompson from some previous meeting, Monroe had 
smiled wryly.

"Ah, Cadet Thompson! Glad you could finally join us! Please take a seat!"

He had skulked his way into the classroom, taking a seat beside her near 
the front of the class.

"Welcome to physics, Cadet. Please be sure to see me after class."

With that said, Monroe had returned to writing on the chalkboard.

Carter's attention deviated away from the professor after a few moments, 
her eyes furtively wandering to the young man seated by her side.

A furrowed forehead indicated her classmate was having a difficult time 
understanding the lesson, and he seemed to quickly lose interest. His 
focus rerouted itself to doodling in his well-worn notebook. Diligently 
sketching, he didn't seem to take notice of her scrutiny as she monitored 
his artistic ability. Carter marveled at how effortlessly defined 
pictures began taking shape on the sheet of paper.

After class had ended, she waited for him in the hallway, suppressing a 
smile at the lecture on tardiness he was receiving from Professor Monroe. 
Suddenly, he bolted from the room, but before he could walk two steps out 
the door, she stopped him.

"Something tells me you really need to pass this class."

Thompson halted and turned to look at her, blinking in recognition at the 
girl he'd sat next to. He seemed mesmerized by the sapphire blue eyes 
looking at him from beneath a fringe of neatly trimmed blonde bangs, 
completely captivating his attention. Realizing that he was staring, he 
removed his garrison hat and ruffled his short, dark hair.

"Um, yeah. I want to be an astronautical engineer."

Carter's interest was caught by the mention of the word 'astronautical.' 
Perhaps this young man was on the same page she was.

"You're a pretty good artist," she complimented, nodding to his tattered 
notebook.

He remained silent, his brown eyes observing her suspiciously. Carter 
decided to cut right to the chase.

"Look, I want to make a deal with you. I'll help you with your physics if 
you help me with a project I'm working on. Meet me at Mitchell Hall for 
dinner, and I'll tell you more about it."

Spinning around, she sprinted off to her next class, leaving him with a 
small smile on his face. It had been an offer he couldn't refuse.

Just a few hours later, the pair was engrossed in a spirited 
conversation, trading ideas and joking around as if they'd known each 
other for years, a friendship sealed for life. In return for assisting 
him with his homework, Thompson had agreed to draw the schematics and 
blueprints for Carter's ambitious project.

Speaking of which...

She turned to face her miniature Unmanned Aerial Vehicle.

To almost any other person, the craft would resemble a large radio-
controlled airplane. Certainly no one would believe that this was a much 
smaller version of the full-sized UAVs the Air Force was currently 
designing. It was a remarkable innovation, measuring in at five feet in 
length with a four-foot wingspan, equipped with many of the bells and 
whistles of any full-scale UAV.

Pulling a panel open, she began fiddling with a couple of wires, 
gradually losing herself in her task. After only a few minutes, her 
gloved hands were gritty with oil and grease and streaks of the stuff 
marred her face. Concentration creased her brow as she finished tying off 
the wires. As she screwed the panel shut, the sound of a soft whistle 
broke through the attentiveness on her work.

From across the taxiway area, she spotted First Lieutenant Thompson and 
graced him with one of her contagious smiles.

Even in the darkness of the night, his brown eyes twinkled mirthfully as 
he took in the sight of her and the UAV. The lanky young man leaned over 
the fuselage of the tiny aircraft, smiling broadly as he ran a hand over 
the frame, admiring her handiwork.

"Shit, you haven't got any artistic ability whatsoever, Wizard, but your 
other talents sure make up for it."

His trademark chuckle rang quietly through the air as he caught sight of 
his friend's shy smile. Even after seven years, Carter was still 
unaccustomed to the compliments he readily threw her way.

Settling down, Thompson dragged an abandoned crate close to the UAV and 
sat. From this vantage point, he resumed watching her work while she 
reflected on the little plane that had brought them together.

Throughout the course of their friendship, they had committed every spare 
moment to bringing this project to life. Thompson's degree in 
astronautical engineering was pivotal. As a propulsion specialist, his 
mind was keen to analyzing matter flow through the bowels of the UAV. He 
would draw the schematics, precisely detailing the blueprints for his 
partner.

Carter's innate knack for constructing things was the next phase. 
Scrounging around the base after completing her duties, she searched for 
scrapped airplane parts to build the UAV. To her advantage, she had 
earned the respect of many of the technicians that worked on their 
fighter jets, and she graciously accepted every piece of spare material 
offered to her.

Thus far, none of their previous test flights had been successful. 
Thompson would dutifully return to the drawing board while Carter 
reviewed the math, trying to determine what may have caused the little 
plane to stop flying.

Flying...

It was another reason Carter believed she and Thompson got along so well. 
Since their days in flight school, they had been nothing short of a 
couple of aces.

Thompson relied on the skills his father had taught him as a boy, taking 
comfort in the fact that he'd learned to fly a plane years before he'd 
finally learned to drive a car. All the years of practice paid off as he 
adeptly piloted every type of aircraft he could haul himself into.

Carter was something else.

Before flight training, the only flying skills she possessed came from 
piloting various radio-controlled aircraft from the safety of the ground 
in her youth. Her friends were astonished at how effortlessly she took 
control once she was in the sky. She was a natural, and the harder she 
pushed herself, the brighter she shined.

"Iraqi troops stormed some of the diplomatic missions going on in Kuwait 
City yesterday," Thompson quietly stated, plucking Carter out of her 
ruminations.

Pausing for a moment, she set the screwdriver on to the concrete, 
avoiding his gaze as she nodded. The reports had flooded news networks 
across the country, leading her to believe something big was indeed 
brewing in the Middle East.

"A lot of our buddies from the Academy were called up to go to Saudi last 
month," he continued. "They wouldn't have been sent if something hadn't 
been up."

The information was nothing new. She'd received letters from a few of 
their former classmates the past couple of weeks, letting her know where 
they were stationed.

Thompson plundered ahead, knowing her well enough to see that she was 
listening even if she did appear to be ignoring him.

"I want to be over there, Sam. I'd volunteer in a heartbeat if given the 
chance. Working with planes here on the base is great work, but I want to 
see a little overseas action before I settle down for NASA, you know?"

Her straight back and rigid shoulders implied that she did not agree with 
his outlook, but she made no move to voice her disapproval.

From past experience, she had learned that Thompson relished his role as 
a flyboy. Carter had witnessed him executing treacherous maneuvers that 
could get him killed several times, but he always returned with a 
lopsided, self-assured smile even as their flight instructors grilled him 
with lectures and warnings of carelessness.

Brains and a large dose of bravado sometimes made a dangerous 
combination, and she feared one day her friend's headstrong attitude 
would be the death of him.

Thompson remained silent when she didn't reply to any of his comments. 
Sighing, he stood and proceeded to recheck the tail end of the UAV, 
trying to look busy.

Carter closed her eyes in relief.

For weeks, he had prattled on about the events unfolding in the Persian 
Gulf, excitement evident in his face every time something new developed.

Quite frankly, she had grown tired of all the talk of impending war and 
chose to block it out whenever possible. Gone were the times she and 
Thompson would spend discussing an endless variety of topics. Carter 
considered it a great stroke of luck if they managed a conversation that 
excluded any reference to the turmoil hanging over the Middle East.

The United States was steadily becoming more involved, but until they 
were called...

Behind her, Thompson cleared his throat uncomfortably. He obviously 
sensed her disapproval of his opinions on some level, but thus far he'd 
carefully evaded confronting her on the issue. Any further discussion of 
the subject was put on hold as they both refocused their attention on 
their project.

She stepped away from the UAV, observing it with a critical eye.

"I've made some modifications from our last test flight in May. The 
preflight check is complete, so she should be ready to fly."

Nodding, he grabbed hold of a pair of wires and hooked them from the 
launch pad to the radio control Carter held in her hands. As he fitted 
the wires in their appropriate sockets, he stole a glance at her.

"Think it'll work this time?"

"Time to find out," she replied.

Backing a safe distance away, the pair of lieutenants stood shoulder to 
shoulder, their eyes fixed on the UAV. A switch was flipped, and the 
small propeller blade at the end of the nose immediately sprung to life. 
The tension between them seemed to lift away as they exchanged a small 
smile, and Carter commenced her NASA-like countdown, eager as a child.

"10, 9, 8, 7, 6... Ignition sequence start."

Another switch was flipped, and the whirring sound of the gears spinning 
faster resonated through the quiet evening air. The excitement radiating 
from Thompson became even more palpable as he fidgeted beside her, 
practically bouncing with energy.

"3, 2, 1!"

The last switch turned over, and the UAV rocketed from its launch pad 
into the night sky. Thompson whooped loudly as the little plane took 
flight, grabbed hold of his friend around the waist, and spun her around 
in delight. Carter fought to free herself from the jubilant Thompson, 
anxious to see how the UAV was doing.

"Josh, let go! I have to take control of the UAV!"

"Sorry! Sorry!"

Instantly, her feet were back on solid ground and her eyes returned to 
the sky, searching for some sign of their aircraft. After a couple of 
minutes of scanning, a flash of light drew her attention as the UAV 
entered a dizzying spiral.

"Oh, this is not good," she whispered.

Another colorful wave of sparks showered down to the ground as the UAV 
continued it's rapid descent to the airfield below. The two pilots 
watched in horror as the plane smashed into the concrete, busting into 
pieces.

Cursing under his breath, Thompson ran at full speed to the crash site 
with Carter close on his heels. A section of the starboard wing had 
caught fire, and Thompson immediately began stamping down on it with his 
booted feet to extinguish it. Frustration surged through Carter as she 
took in the sight.

"God, why won't you work?" she exclaimed, kicking at the UAV's shattered 
fuselage.

Thompson shot her a disapproving frown as he examined the wreckage.

"Your ass must be sore from all the kicking you give it," he chided.

A puzzled look crossed her face.

"Every time this bird doesn't fly, you bang your head against the wall 
trying to figure out what's wrong with it," he clarified.

The confusion quickly faded as the irritation flooded through her once 
again.

"We've been working on this project for years, Josh! This is our third 
test flight, and it was another failure. I don't understand what's 
wrong!"

A sharp tug on her sleeve hauled her thoughts away from the decimated UAV 
and to her friend's face.

"Sam, we have been working on this for a long time. I know that. But no 
one has ever built a UAV this small before! Hell, the Air Force is still 
trying to get the full-sized ones up and running!"

His voice dropped down to a whisper, his fingers squeezing her upper arm 
reassuringly.

"It's going to take some time before we get it right."

Placated, Carter leveled her eyes with his, expelling a deep breath and 
nodding in agreement. Relinquishing the gentle grip on her arm, Thompson 
knelt by the UAV, resuming to poke through the busted pieces.

She stood silent watching him for a moment, marveling at his uncanny 
ability to mollify the bouts of impatience that riddled through her from 
time to time. All it took was one fleeting glance from his intense brown 
eyes or the quiet, comforting tone of his voice murmuring in her ear, and 
Thompson could immediately allay her frustration or anxiousness.

"Would you quit standing there and help me find anything we can salvage?"

The sound of his pleasantly annoyed voice shook her from her thoughts, 
her eyes drifting back to the airplane.

There wasn't much to find.

The UAV had swiftly lost altitude after the short-circuit and had 
plummeted to the ground at a forty-five degree angle. The fuselage had 
splintered into pieces, one wing was burnt to a crisp, and the other had 
cracked laterally across the crucial aileron. Only the tail seemed to 
survive the brunt of the crash.

Carter knelt by it, already taking into consideration the possible 
miscalculations that could have brought the plane down. Biting her lip, 
she absently rubbed at the miniature paintings of their own real call 
signs, a wizard's wand with shooting stars and a flaming knight's sword.

"The sparks we saw indicate a short-circuit. We've always secured the UAV 
in a storage shed to ensure that the wiring remained unsaturated."

Thompson nodded in agreement, the gears in his own head turning just as 
quickly as hers.

"Sam, the sheds may keep out the wet weather, but some of the interiors 
are still sensitive to the extreme temperatures outside."

"Right!" she exclaimed, connecting the pieces together.

"The temperatures have been below average for several weeks now, 
something we previously didn't have to be concerned about. The past few 
nights, the temperature dropped to well below freezing. If the UAV became 
subject to those extreme temperatures due to inadequate storage, it's 
likely some of the internal wiring froze."

"And those frozen wires sparked when we turned it on, causing the short-
circuit!" Josh completed her theory before she could finish, easily 
keeping up with her fast-paced thinking.

"We need to find a better equipped hiding place for our next model," 
Carter declared.

Having reached an agreement, they returned to inspecting the pieces, 
working silently for a few minutes.

Thompson picked up one of the engine components, turning it over 
carefully between his fingers. His voice sounded thoughtful, almost 
absentminded, as he placed the piece in his pocket.

"Didn't get much altitude when we launched..."

His companion hummed in accord as she picked through the remains of the 
UAV, focused on one of the wings.

"Stronger propellant would give the UAV a bigger boost into the air... 
Some kind of rocket propellant like they use for the shuttle over at the 
Cape..."

The cracked wing clattered to the ground, slipping from her immobile 
fingers. Thompson was an expert when it came to pushing things to go 
faster and higher, but this...

"Rocket propellant? Do you want to blow us up?" she asked incredulously.

"No, but --"

"Lieutenant Carter! Lieutenant Thompson!"

The pair immediately snapped to attention, the angry sound of their 
commanding officer's voice halting any further quarreling. Carter stood 
completely still as Major Brayden Wells marched to the crash site, his 
face red with fury. She held her breath as their CO unhappily observed 
the mess on the ground.

The minutes seemed to slowly tick by, and all was silent except the sound 
of her rapidly pounding heart. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught 
sight of Thompson's fingers twitching, and her eyes widened in alarm.

'Don't start fidgeting now, Lieutenant!' she thought.

After what seemed like an eternity, Major Wells returned to stand in 
front of them, scowling in disapproval.

"Lieutenant Thompson."

"Yes, sir?" came the automatic reply.

"You're dismissed. I want to have a word with Lieutenant Carter."

"Sir, yes, sir!"

Without question, Thompson saluted his superior officer and quickly fled 
the scene.

The cold weather burned Carter's cheeks as she waited for the inevitable 
punishment, yet she did not flinch under the major's glare. Years of 
training allowed her to hold her own against him, and she stared 
unblinkingly into his eyes, prepared for whatever reprimand he would be 
issuing her.

Appearing satisfied at the strength of her stamina, Wells backed down a 
bit.

"Lieutenant, there are important matters transpiring around the world 
right now. You shouldn't be wasting your time with such...toys."

He poked the wreckage of the UAV with one gleaming, black combat boot, 
emphasizing his disgust. Returning his attention to his subordinate, his 
tone softened marginally.

"You've got a good brain in that head of yours and flying skills that 
surpass almost every other pilot on this base. I know talent when I see 
it. Use that talent for something worth your while."

Glancing down at the broken UAV, he added, "Clean up this mess and return 
to your quarters, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir!"

She crisply saluted him and sighed in relief as he walked away.

It was none too often when she was spared from the major's stern 
punishments, especially after finding her working on the one project he 
despised the most. Wells had a tendency to bear down hard on his 
squadron, demanding the utmost dedication to being the best officers and 
fighter pilots the Air Force had to offer. In his rulebook, there was no 
room for anything but.

It was no surprise he singled out Carter much of the time. While the 
other members of the squadron leisurely logged a ridiculous number of 
hours during their days off, she took great liberty in meddling with all 
sorts of projects in her spare time, partly out of her insatiable 
curiosity, partly out of her youthful need to test her commanding 
officer's limits.

As she knelt to pick up the smashed pieces of the UAV, she glared at the 
retreating figure of Major Wells.

"Go suck a lemon, sir," Carter muttered under her breath.

One day, she knew her projects would successfully aid the Air Force. Then 
she would gain the satisfaction of proving to the major that her "toys" 
had been well worth the time and effort.

                         *******************

Chapter 2

"You told Brayden Wells to what!" O'Neill exclaimed in disbelief.

A furious flush blazed across Carter's cheeks. She knew she should have 
left that detail out!

"It's not like he heard me, sir! He was well out of earshot," she 
protested.

"Lucky for you, or else you might have gotten that punishment after all!" 
the colonel retorted, clearly amused by the choice of words she had used 
against her former commanding officer.

She remained obstinately silent, attentively dusting off her boots and 
keeping her gaze fixed on a suddenly fascinating flower by her foot. 
O'Neill grinned, unwilling to let go of such a golden opportunity to give 
his major a difficult time.

"Have you ever told me to suck a lemon, Carter?"

"No, sir," she hurriedly responded. The serious expression on her face 
vanished as a slow, mischievous smile crept across her face.

"Not yet, anyway," she added cheekily in afterthought.

"Have you ever told General Hammond?" he shot back.

"No!" Carter shouted, unable to stifle her laughter.

It had been far too long since she'd had a really good laugh.

Over the past few months, there had been no respite from one grueling 
mission after another: the colonel stranded on Edora with a buried 
Stargate, covert operations with the Asgard and Tollan, crystal skulls 
and giant aliens, techno-bugs intent on overrunning Earth... It felt 
wonderful to have a temporary break from the action.

"So why did you tell old Brayden to stick a piece of fruit in his mouth?"

Carter glanced at him with a wry smirk before returning her gaze to the 
ground.

"Major Wells was always on my case, sir."

The colonel took a good, hard look at his second-in-command, appearing 
mildly surprised at her uncharacteristic petulance.

"You know why, don't you?"

No reply.

"The man had a rep for pushing his best people hard. He swore by the Air 
Force motto. 'Integrity first, service before self, and excellence in all 
we do.' Hell, I wouldn't have lasted a minute under his command 'cause he 
would've had me booted out with my attitude!"

A reflective expression crossed her face as she absorbed this 
information.

Over the past ten years, she had gained much more insight into the world 
than she had possessed at the age of twenty-five. What she had believed 
to be harsh discipline and outrageous training routines had actually been 
Major Wells gauging their skills, keeping his eyes peeled for exceptional 
work and dedication.

She hoped she had given him that.

The inborn yearning to achieve perfection had always driven her. Beneath 
her notice, Major Wells had strengthened that attribute in her during her 
time with his squadron, always pushing her to strive for nothing less 
than the best.

That same dedication had fueled her desire to unlock the secrets of the 
Stargate when she was first assigned to the project, and that same 
commitment now compelled her to work hard under Colonel O'Neill's command 
in SG-1.

"I never considered it in a positive way, sir," she quietly responded. 
"It's easier to appreciate his relentless attitude almost a decade later, 
but back then..."

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty, Major."

"Yes, sir."

O'Neill and Carter remained silent for a few moments, each allowing his 
or her thoughts to take flight. On the rare occasion they spent time 
alone together, it seemed as though all of the formal military rigidity 
usually present between them melted away. Their conversations typically 
carried along comfortably, whether the discussion steered towards the 
latest hockey scores or talking about their shared interest in astronomy.

Far from the confines of the Air Force and the SGC, Carter found that she 
was adding talking about the past with her commanding officer to the list 
of things to discuss, almost too easily.

"So you were messing around with doohickeys like the UAV since your 
Academy days?" he questioned.

She nodded, and the colonel couldn't help but smile.

"Never pegged you as a troublemaker, Carter."

The bittersweet look that came over her made his smile disappear.

"That wasn't the first time we were caught with the UAV, sir. It was the 
last time."

                         *******************

Monday, November 5, 1990

Sam Carter peered down at the beautiful Arizona sierras and mesas as she 
soared above them in her F-16 fighter jet, streaking across the cloudless 
sky.

As far as the eye could see, the land remained untouched by the hands of 
mankind. Cacti and shrubbery grew in abundance among the dunes and 
playas, and the boundless sky was a bright baby blue. The desert 
stretched out for miles, the golden sand shimmering as rays of bright 
sunlight shined down upon the billions of tiny granules.

She could easily imagine how the Old West settlers must have seen this 
land more than a century ago as they traversed across the North American 
continent in search of a better future.

Although times had changed, the longing to attain a better future was 
still a fixture of the American way of life. The working class set aside 
money for that elusive 'someday,' parents sent their children off to 
college to garner a good education, and the nation fought to protect its 
assets, both at home and abroad.

Bearing that in mind, it came as no surprise that the United States 
openly condemned the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait. The oilfield running 
beneath the two countries was an allegorical gold mine, a rich supply of 
oil reserves that would benefit whoever claimed it, and inevitably the 
land became the source of a rising conflict between the countries.

Kuwait had fallen to the opposition's stronger military regime, and the 
incursion immediately attracted the undivided attention of the world. 
Concern escalated further when enough evidence was gathered to determine 
the Iraqis were planning a possible invasion on the borders of Saudi 
Arabia, another wealthy, oil-reliant country.

Diplomatic missions were dispatched, but to no avail. The situation 
remained unchanged, and more militaristic approaches were being 
considered.

Since September, her squadron had joined many others across the U.S., 
steadily beginning to earnestly train for battle. As the months passed 
by, more fighter wings and squadrons had been deployed to the Middle 
East, strengthening the manpower of the thousands of American and 
coalition forces already stationed in the Gulf. She knew it was only a 
matter of time before her squadron would be sent overseas to join 
Operation Desert Shield.

Shaking her head, she gently pushed the stick forward, lowering her 
altitude.

Personally, she couldn't care less about the oil. Intellectually, Carter 
understood how valuable the region was to her country, but her heart 
warred with her head. There were people in Kuwait and Saudi Arabia who 
needed their help, and in her eyes that was what mattered the most.

The unmistakable sound of a pair of jets falling into formation at her 
sides jerked her from her musings. She glanced to her right, smiling 
behind her oxygen mask as Thompson gave her a thumbs-up sign. She gave 
him a short wave before turning to her left.

First Lieutenant Matthew Lovell was swinging his shoulders from side to 
side, performing his victory jig as best he could in such cramped 
quarters. Carter couldn't help but giggle at the antics of the man whom 
she thought of as a surrogate big brother.

Something had clicked between them the first time they'd met, 
inexplicably drawing them together. The pair became all but inseparable 
after Major Wells assigned Lovell to supervise her progress during the 
first two months following her assignment to the squadron. From running 
difficult flight training missions to picking apart the engines of their 
fighter planes, the duo had developed an unbreakable bond, and Carter 
learned to place her trust in Lovell without question.

However, as much as she trusted him with her life, she'd also discovered 
no one could make her laugh like he did. She always enjoyed spending time 
with the twenty-seven year old mechanical engineer, but never more than 
when he was in a joking mood.

"Careful, Matty. If you head swells up any more, you're going to 
accidentally eject yourself out of that cockpit," Carter teased.

"I wouldn't be so quick to rag on me, little sis," Lovell responded 
playfully. "You're up next!"

Almost immediately after his retort, the radio crackled to life once 
again. The sound of Major Wells's voice transmitted through the audio 
speakers in Carter's helmet as he issued his comments and instructions to 
the squadron.

"Good job, Magician. Excellent flying, Knight. Wizard and Warlock, you're 
up. Rendezvous at the Range."

Thompson and Lovell wished her luck, and Carter accelerated her engines, 
heading back toward the Goldwater Range.

Over the last two months, Wells had hailed the 421st Fighter Squadron 
before the crack of dawn for full days of training. After a quick 
breakfast, the group would man their fighter planes in the pre-dawn chill 
and travel down to Arizona's Luke Air Force Base, the largest fighter 
plane training facility in the country, where they would receive their 
itinerary for the day.

Thus far, no two days had been the same.

One day would be spent conducting intense air-to-air training, battling 
against other squadrons in mock combat. The next day might find them 
assigned to the Goldwater Range for hours of air-to-ground bombing run 
simulations. Half the time, the squadron was comfortably situated in 
their personal F-16s, while at other times they logged hours for 
recertification aboard the F-117A Nighthawks, stealth planes loaned from 
the 37th Training Wing stationed at Tonopah Test Range in Nevada.

Today had been no different.

A weary Carter had risen from her bed at 0430, two hours before sunrise, 
feeling like she was back in basic cadet training. Her life had dwindled 
down to a rudimentary routine: train hard, eat right, and get a good 
night's sleep. Spare time had become nonexistent. Her doctoral thesis and 
work on the UAV sat in her quarters collecting dust.

It was uncharacteristic for her to leave her work alone for such a long 
period of time, but exhaustion had steadily crept up on her, draining the 
usual infinite amount of energy that always seemed to radiate within her. 
Regardless of the fatigue, she readily poured her heart and soul into 
flying her best every day.

Soon enough, the boundary of the Goldwater Range was in her sight. 
Another F-16 approached from the west, decelerating as the pilot spotted 
her on his scope.

'Just my luck,' she thought as she warily eyed the Warlock call sign 
painted on the tail of the plane.

As long as she could remember, First Lieutenant Derek Hall seemed 
steadfast on outperforming everything she did while under Major Wells's 
command. Since the day she'd arrived at Hill, the twenty-eight year old 
aerospace engineer had given her hell. If he wasn't nitpicking her latest 
project, he would be criticizing her flying. A day hadn't gone by without 
her having to endure his bullying remarks.

Hall was something of a puzzle to Carter. Day after day, she wondered 
what she could have done to provoke the bitterness he seemed to hold for 
her. Usually she relished solving such intricate puzzles, but this one 
had her stumped. She could never predict what he would say or do.

Her feelings on the issue were swiftly shelved as she heard Wells exclaim 
over the radio, "Warlock and Wizard, you have a go!"

Thrusting herself into her fighter pilot mentality, Carter smiled at the 
familiar burst of adrenaline that coursed through her body. The rush from 
the sudden surge of speed made all those long hours of intense training 
worthwhile. Almost immediately, she had a good lead over Hall, pushing 
her F-16 to maximum power as she shot over the Range.

"You're coming up on alpha targets!" Wells informed them.

She had a clean view of the Range from her canopy. The field loomed in 
the distance, the abandoned buildings and military equipment becoming 
clearer as she rapidly approached.

The squadron had spent hours reviewing topographical maps of the area, 
becoming intimately familiar with the territory. Each pilot received the 
opportunity to fly through the field each morning the 421st was posted 
there, learning and committing to memory the landmasses and manmade 
training structures. With one glance at her scope, Carter instantly knew 
how to maneuver across the field in order to achieve the best possible 
flight path.

"Targets in sight, sir!" she reported, full of confidence.

Several seconds later, Hall echoed, "Targets in sight, sir!"

"Drop your ordnance!" Wells commanded.

Fixing her gaze on the screen before her, Carter waited until just the 
right moment to hit the release mechanism, discharging the plane's deadly 
ordnance onto the targets below.

"One away! Two away!" she exclaimed as the Paveway II laser-guided bombs 
dropped to the ground.

The sound of the weaponry hitting their marks faded into the recesses of 
her awareness as she focused on keeping the F-16 steady under the intense 
g-forces. Her hand gripped the stick tightly, guiding the plane through 
the intermittent rocky terrain between the first and second batch of 
targets.

"Wizard, you are approaching bravo targets too fast," Wells notified her. 
"You're going to miss your marks!"

"I can do it, sir!" Carter replied, her teeth clenched both in 
concentration and against the mounting pressure gravity was forcing upon 
her.

She ripped ahead toward the second half of the exercise, studiously 
maintaining her breakneck airspeed and keeping the targets in sight. 
Within seconds, she was on top of them and accurately released her 
ordnance once again.

"Three away! Four away!"

The Paveways plummeted to their intended targets, striking perfectly in 
the wake of her flyby.

Having completed the run, she eased her death grip on the stick, watching 
the dial spin down as her airspeed decreased. Pushing her helmet's visor 
up with one shaking hand, she wiped away the beads of sweat from her 
forehead, struggling to catch her breath.

Slowly, she became aware of the excited chatter over the radio. Her 
fellow squadron pilots were keyed up about something, speaking so quickly 
she couldn't understand what they were babbling about. Before Carter had 
the chance to ask what was going on, Wells made an announcement.

"Good flying, Wizard and Warlock. That wraps it up for the day. Head back 
to Luke for a refuel, and then we're going home."

The group calmed down and fell back into formation, making their way back 
to Luke AFB. One by one, the planes touched down on the runway and taxied 
toward the hangar bays where the fueling crews were waiting for their 
arrival. As the crews busied themselves with work on the F-16s, the 
pilots took the time to rest aboard their aircraft, chatting quietly with 
one another over the radios.

Carter leaned back in her cockpit as best she could, closing her eyes and 
enjoying the few minutes of relaxation allotted to them. A cool breeze 
fluttered through the open canopy, ruffling her short, blonde locks and 
drawing out a sigh from the lieutenant.

Despite all outward appearances, she was never truly at rest. Her mind 
raced over her completed simulation run as she visualized every moment, 
considering what she had perfected and what she could improve upon.

One factor that continued to intrigue her was the airspeed she had 
sustained. Throughout her entire training, she had never managed to 
achieve such rigid control over her fighter plane at such an incredible 
velocity. She had spent so much time working on the problem with Lovell, 
logging countless hours trying to master the skill.

None of his ideas had succeeded, and the disappointment and frustration 
had continued to plague them both. After one close call that had nearly 
resulted in a crash, the pair had toned down the arduous training. Their 
only hope was that her inborn talent would naturally emerge, giving her 
the ability to conquer the only problem she'd ever encountered while 
flying.

"Good job, Lieutenant Carter."

Her eyes snapped open, the sound of Major Wells's voice crackling over 
the radio startling her. Quickly, she sat up, turning in the direction of 
the F-16 with the golden crown painted on its tail. Catching sight of her 
commanding officer, she gave him a small smile.

"Thank you, sir."

"You showed some spectacular stuff up there, but next time keep the 
stunts grounded."

A tiny frown creased her forehead.

"Sir?" she asked, not quite sure she had heard him correctly.

Wells positioned his helmet loosely over his head as his fueling crew 
completed their work on his plane, and he nodded his acknowledgement to 
them before answering her.

"I don't need any of my people trying to play hero, Lieutenant. Is that 
clear?"

'Where is this coming from?' she silently wondered.

"But sir, I wasn't --"

"Is that clear, Lieutenant Carter?" Wells repeated, his green eyes 
narrowing slightly, signifying he meant business.

"Yes, sir," she obediently replied, sliding her own helmet back on as her 
crew finished up.

Without further argument, Carter began her preflight, working through her 
confusion as she flipped through a row of switches. She didn't understand 
why the major was criticizing such a perfect run. Never before had she 
maintained such precision engaged in a bombing run, and even less so with 
live ammunition.

Her hand wavered in midair over the forward panel with her last thought, 
her eyes drifting shut in realization.

Major Wells was well aware of all his pilots' strengths and weakness, 
both in aviation and their individual specialties on the ground. It was 
no secret to him that she had continually struggled to fly with finesse 
at intense velocities, exhibiting little progress from consistently 
overcoming the problem. In his eyes, her boldness cast a shadow over the 
exquisite bombing run she had completed.

Where she had solely been focused on pulling off something she wasn't 
quite skilled at, Wells had seen the potential danger she had placed 
herself in, particularly with actual bombs. The major expected by-the-
book behavior while in the air, keeping a close eye on the hot-dogging 
pranksters in his squadron like Josh Thompson.

Frowning, she turned her head and caught the dark brown eyes of her 
friend scrutinizing her. Thompson was tightening the chinstrap of his 
helmet, not looking very happy.

'Damn it, how long has he been looking over here?'

As he secured the strap, he used his free hand to key the radio and 
asked, "What's wrong?"

Automatically, she replied, "Nothing," and mentally kicked herself for 
such a stupid answer. He knew her far too well to let her get away with 
that kind of a response. 

Predictably, he fired right back at her.

"Don't give me that crap, Sam."

He had undoubtedly witnessed the entire exchange between herself and 
Major Wells. Fortunately, he had no access to their radio conversation, 
but Thompson hadn't any need for the audio discussion to know something 
had happened. Over the last several years, he had perfected the ability 
to effortlessly read every expression that crossed her face.

She sighed as she tugged her own chinstrap, shaking her head wordlessly 
at him and hoping he'd perceive the silent message in her eyes: please 
drop it. After a long moment of stubbornly holding her gaze, Thompson 
grudgingly relented, returning his attention to his preflight check.

Cater released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. 
Thompson knew firsthand of the rocky relationship that existed between 
her and the major, but now was not the time to be discussing their latest 
clash. There would always be a more appropriate time and place to discuss 
such matters.

"Hey Sam?"

Lifting her head, she glanced in his direction again, her eyebrows 
lifting slightly as he gave her one of his shy smiles.

"You really kicked our asses up there."

Her expression was perplexed, somewhere between a smile and a frown, as 
she curiously asked, "What are you talking about?"

Before he could answer, the base air traffic controller stated, "Squadron 
421, this is Tower One. You have been cleared for take off. Have a safe 
trip. Over."

"Copy that, Tower One. You heard the man, squad. Time to go home," Wells 
informed them.

One at a time, each plane rolled out onto the runway, taking flight into 
the fading sunset. The short journey home was uneventful, and soon enough 
they were landing on their own airstrip at Hill.

Carter, one of the last pilots to touch down on the runway, gratefully 
pulled off her helmet and unfastened her straps. As she began the power 
down procedure, the familiar clank of the ladder being set up beside the 
cockpit resounded outside. In response, she popped open the canopy, ready 
to greet her chief crewman, Technical Sergeant Lowe. Instead, she was 
caught completely by surprise as a pair of strong arms lifted her out of 
the ejection seat.

"Beautiful flying, Wizard!" First Lieutenant Rupert O'Malley shouted as 
he squeezed her close.

"O'Malley!" she yelled, squirming to get free. "What are you talking 
about? What did I do?"

He issued no response to her questions, only holding her tighter to keep 
her from falling to the ground.

She continued the attempt to wriggle out of his grasp, kicking to find 
the rungs of the ladder. As her foot finally made contact with a steel 
rung, she glanced down and blinked in surprise. A fair number of her 
fellow pilots had encircled her F-16, clapping and calling out words of 
praise.

O'Malley carefully handed down the wide-eyed Carter to First Lieutenants 
Robert Fulco and Todd Hickam, who gently set her on the taxiway. The 
assembled group of pilots gathered around, patting her on the back and 
congratulating her. Growing more confused by the second, she grabbed a 
fistful of Lovell's g-suit and yanked him toward her.

"Can you please tell me what the hell is going on?" she asked in a low 
voice, trying to remain calm.

Lovell wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her close and kissing 
her cheek.

"That's my girl! All the hard work finally paid off, Sammy!"

"Your run was better than anyone else's, Sam! You shattered the old squad 
record!" First Lieutenant Jonathan Bennett added, grinning like a fool.

"And better yet," O'Malley continued, scrambling down from his perch on 
her plane. "You completely eclipsed Derek Hall! The little snail was 
choking down your exhaust!"

When the commotion began dying down, Thompson quietly approached her from 
behind, slipping his arms around her waist in a simple hug. She smiled at 
his warm, familiar presence, appreciatively leaning into his embrace and 
only partially listening to O'Malley, Lovell, and Bennett as they rambled 
on among themselves about broken records.

"I'm proud of you," he softly murmured, his arms constricting slightly 
around her.

Carter upheld her silence, choosing to rest her temple against his cheek 
in a show of affection. For a moment, both remained motionless, merely 
enjoying each other's warmth in the cold night air.

Closing her eyes, she considered how their friendship had subtly been 
evolving the past couple of years. The extended touches and hugs, the 
longing glances they furtively cast one another...

Things were slowly changing between the pair. They were more than just 
the best of friends, yet not quite romantically involved. It was a fine 
line they skirted along, both unwilling to risk ruining their powerful 
friendship or their promising careers, but unable to withdraw from the 
devotion they had developed for each other over the course of several 
years.

Moments like these had become more frequent, yet more often than not, 
they managed to retain the playful, comfortable camaraderie that was so 
prevalent in their squadron.

"You keep breaking records like that and you won't need to do any ass-
kissing to get into NASA, Wizard," Thompson teased, digging his fingers 
between her ribs and drawing a startled squeak from her.

Before Thompson could realize what had hit him, Carter elbowed him in the 
stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He released her and, taking 
advantage of his breathlessness, she swept a leg at his ankles to whisk 
his feet out from under him.

It all happened in a fraction of a second.

He lay flat on his back on the ground, chuckling and wincing. Eyes 
shining bright with amusement, Carter smiled down at him while O'Malley, 
Lovell, and Bennett doubled over with laughter at his expense.

"You were saying, Lieutenant?" she asked innocently.

Thompson rose to his feet, a small grin playing across his lips.

"Um, I've gotta go finish powering down. I'll, uh, catch up with you 
later, okay?"

Leisurely, he retreated away from them, smiling and rubbing a sore spot 
on his backside.

The lighthearted laugh from behind them caused the group to whirl around, 
coming face to face with Captain James Martinez, the second-in-command of 
the 421st Fighter Squadron.

"Are you four having fun?"

Embarrassed smiles spread across the faces of the junior officers. At 
their appearance, Martinez laughed heartily once again.

"Well, a little horsing around isn't a crime, kids, but I suggest you get 
back to powering down your planes."

"Is something wrong, sir?" Bennett questioned.

Sobering significantly, Martinez answered, "Colonel Snedden asked to 
speak with Major Wells when we landed. Something might be up."

Stony silence smothered the cheerfulness as the younger pilots began 
putting two and two together.

Colonel William Snedden was the commanding officer of Hill's 388th 
Tactical Fighter Wing, which included three F-16 fighter squadrons and 
several operation support squadrons. His orders were handed down from the 
higher officials of the Air Force, effectively enabling him to call the 
shots. Meetings between Snedden and Wells almost always paved the way for 
a change of orders, and the implications of this particular conference 
could only mean one thing.

They were being reassigned overseas.

"Finish up with your planes, boys. Major Wells will want to brief the 
squad at Hangar A as soon as he's finished talking to the colonel. 
Dismissed," Martinez told them.

A chorus of "yes, sir's" and salutes preceded O'Malley, Lovell, and 
Bennett's departures.

Carter considered their retreating figures for a moment before lowering 
her gaze to the ground. She bit her lower lip as the information they'd 
been presented with tumbled around in her mind.

War.

When she enrolled at the Academy, she was mindful of the possibility of 
going into combat if the country went to war. The documents she'd signed 
before she entered flight training stated that she understood the risks 
of becoming a fighter pilot, understood she may be called to the 
frontlines and fly missions deep into enemy territory. She just never 
thought she'd see the day when it would actually happen.

She was going to war.

Captain Martinez's gentle voice broke through her tumultuous thoughts, 
pulling her back to the present.

"You did a good job up there, little girl."

Raising her eyes, Carter managed to give him a small smile.

"Thank you, sir."

Martinez had the reputation of being the family man in the squadron. 
Although he had committed his entire adult life to the Air Force, he 
always spent his downtime with his wife and children in Salt Lake City.

His love for kids extended down to the members of the squadron, all of 
whom he considered as much his children as his son and daughter were. 
Martinez kindly referred to the men of the 421st as his 'boys,' and 
reserved a special place in his heart for Carter, his 'girl.'

Martinez nodded at her before fixing his gaze on her F-16.

"Finish up what you were doing, Lieutenant. We'll soon find out what's 
going on."

"Yes, sir," she replied, saluting.

About twenty minutes later, Carter and her crew were completing the power 
down procedure when she heard the distinct sound of approaching 
footsteps. Smiling, she peeked over the side of her cockpit, assuming 
Thompson had returned from powering down his own aircraft. Much to her 
dismay, she was met by the one person she sought to avoid at all costs.

"So, do you think what you did will make it easier for your daddy to move 
you up on NASA's list of candidates for the astronaut corps?" Derek Hall 
asked sourly.

She purposely ignored him, climbing out of the cockpit after setting the 
canopy to close behind her. She had sensed that sooner or later he'd find 
the time to pay her a visit. It came as no surprise that Hall had waited 
until she was more or less alone before confronting her.

Someone clearing his throat behind her caught her attention.

Ducking her head beneath the nose of the fighter plane, she found her 
support crew standing at attention, waiting to be dismissed. Her eyes 
tracked each of their faces.

There was Staff Sergeant Nolan and Senior Airman Edwards, the two newest 
personnel she had chosen to be a part of her support crew. Both had been 
recommended by Captain Martinez and Lieutenant Lovell, and thus far 
proven themselves to her time and again, learning the ropes quickly.

Then there was Technical Sergeant Lowe, the oldest and most experienced 
member of the team. Carter had intuitively handpicked the strong-willed, 
accomplished Lowe to be her chief crewman at the beginning of her flight 
training instruction, and the two had stuck together ever since.

"Thanks for your help, guys."

Edwards peered behind Carter, nodding her head towards the prowling Hall.

"Sure you'll be okay, ma'am?"

Carter felt her lips twitch in amusement at the youngest member of her 
crew.

Senior Airman Edwards was a firebrand, ready for anything that may come 
her way and fiercely protective of her friends. She was bright as a new 
penny and not unlike Carter in several ways, which had led the lieutenant 
to hand-select the plucky young woman into the maintenance crew that 
would be attending to her and her fighter plane.

"I'll be just fine, Airman," she replied. "Thanks once again."

The three saluted her and walked away, leaving her alone with Hall. With 
one look at the expression on his face, she decided to try to continue 
the avoidance tactic and steadily began walking toward Hangar A for the 
briefing. Hall was not as eager to let go of the situation so quickly.

"Who taught you how to fly like that, Carter? Your old man? Or those 
crazy flyboys you're always hanging out with?"

'He's not worth the fight,' she told herself, fighting to keep her 
irritation in check as she unconsciously squeezed and loosened her fists.

Hall continued along, obviously enjoying himself as he tried to goad her.

"I bet Thompson's taught you a thing or two about flying...in the air and 
in the bedroom. Tell me, Carter, do you guys wait to get between the 
sheets or do you hop to it in a nice, cozy spot in the hangar bays?"

That did it.

When all else fell short, he relied on bringing her association with 
Thompson into the skirmish, using him to rouse the deep-rooted intensity 
Carter hid beneath the surface. It never failed to rile her.

Abruptly, she turned on her heel and defiantly stared up into his face, 
her fiery, sapphire eyes locking gazes with his pale, icy ones.

"What is your problem with me, Lieutenant? Just because I'm a woman 
doesn't mean I can't be a good fighter pilot!" she exclaimed, allowing 
her aggravation to take charge. She had tired of endlessly walking around 
eggshells with him.

"This isn't about you being a woman, Carter!" he yelled back.

"Then what the hell is it about?"

"Hey, knock it off, Hall!"

With a start, the two lieutenants twisted around toward the sound of 
Thompson's voice. Both immediately became aware of the fact they had 
arrived outside of Hangar A, where most of the squadron had already 
assembled for the briefing.

Her simmering anger cooled considerably as she spotted Thompson, Bennett, 
O'Malley, and Hickam making their way to her side. Her eyes lit up as she 
remembered the nickname Major Wells had bestowed upon his newest hotshots 
when they had joined the squadron.

The Fearless Freshmen.

All five friends had remained close throughout their instruction at the 
Academy and flight school, and by either luck or fate, all had been 
assigned to the 421st upon their graduation.

For weeks, Wells and the older squad members had teased them incessantly, 
joking that the major must have gotten a 'buy one, get four free' deal. 
The newly promoted first lieutenants had taken it all in stride, sticking 
close together as they always had.

Eventually, the rest of the squadron had learned to accept the fact that 
nothing could disrupt the strong camaraderie the five had constructed. 
They became Wells's terrors in the sky, successfully displaying their 
extremely capable flying skills consistently.

Word of their formidable bond spread across the base like a wildfire. 
Soon enough, all the personnel knew that when one of the Fearless 
Freshmen was happy, the other four were more than likely also cheerful. 
Mess with one, and you messed with all of them.

At the present time, none of them looked too pleased.

O'Malley stood by Carter's side, towering over her and Hall with his fit 
and trim six foot, four inch frame. The other young men took up positions 
behind them, offering silent support.

'Sometimes height does have its advantages,' she thought as Hall took a 
conscious step backward, clearly intimidated by O'Malley's powerful 
presence.

"Sam, is this little snail picking on you because you whipped his butt?"

Hall quickly cut in before she could reply.

"Of course not, O'Malley! I was just asking Carter where she got her 
flying lessons."

He fixed a cold gaze at her, his smile anything but friendly as his eyes 
sized her up from head to toe.

"Maybe you could show me some of those moves later. Your place or mine, 
sweetheart?"

In an instant, her anger bubbled and resurfaced at his bawdy remark. She 
stepped forward and opened her mouth, ready to give Hall the verbal 
thrashing of his life, when a stern voice stopped her.

"Cut it out!"

Six heads whipped around in swift succession to face Captain Sean 
McCullough, the other senior officer on the 421st.

"Major Wells is heading back so get your acts together now!" he 
admonished them.

Defiant looks were exchanged between Carter and Hall before the two 
backed away from each other, and a blanket of silence fell over the 
entire squadron as their commanding officer returned.

"Listen up," Wells began. "As you people have probably guessed, we've 
received new orders from Colonel Snedden. We'll be heading overseas to 
join Operation Desert Shield."

All eyes were trained on the major as he began pacing back and forth in 
front of them, continuing his address.

"Diplomacy has been going nowhere, so in three days, President Bush will 
be ordering additional deployments to Saudi. This will give credibility 
to the offensive option that is mounting. As a part of the 388th Tactical 
Fighter Wing, we'll be included in those plans."

He paused, taking the time to observe each youthful face.

"We've been training for weeks now. I've thrown every kind of obstacle I 
could think of while instructing you people, pushing you to your limits 
and beyond. You've passed with flying colors every time."

Wells halted briefly again, craning his neck to look up at the night sky 
for a moment, considering his next words.

"I know we're ready for this."

Clearing his throat, he added, "We'll continue to train four times a week 
until we are deployed on the seventeenth of November, so start getting 
your business taken care of. If anyone has anything to say, now's the 
time to say it."

Silence was the only response.

Nodding curtly, Major Wells stopped pacing.

"All right, then. We'll debrief in regards to today's training at 0800. 
You're dismissed."

With the briefing completed, the squadron broke apart, the pilots and 
crewmembers sauntering off in small groups to discuss what lay ahead of 
them.

Carter and Thompson left the taxiway together, wordlessly making their 
way to the officers' quarters. Once inside the building, the lieutenants 
weaved through the decorated corridors that accommodated the pilots of 
the 421st, the sound of their footfalls echoing through the empty 
hallways.

As they walked along, Carter glanced at the endless rows of plaques, 
certificates of commendation, and group photos of past and present 
squadron members. The pilots of the 421st had maintained a long history 
of pride and excellence, a tradition Major Wells expected to continue 
while the squadron was under his command.

Many of the names inscribed on the various awards were familiar, for they 
had built successful careers in the field of space science after trading 
in their pilot's wings. Most had gone on to work at NORAD, U.S. Space 
Command, and even NASA, where she hoped to find herself one day.

For now, those dreams would have to wait, shelved away until she returned 
from the Middle East.

Leaning against the door of her quarters, she eyed the unusually quiet 
Thompson, who was uncomfortably scuffing his boot along the floor. For 
months, they'd bickered about the reasons behind the military's 
involvement in the conflict, never quite seeing eye to eye on the topic. 
Now they were headed there themselves, unable to avoid the issue any 
longer.

The awkward silence that had encompassed the pair since the end of the 
briefing was suddenly broken when they began speaking simultaneously.

"Josh --"

"Sam --"

Tentative smiles crossed their faces.

Carter gestured for Thompson to say what was on his mind.

"I know you're less than thrilled about going overseas."

She shook her head, crossing her arms at her chest.

"I may not like it, Josh, but it is part of the job. We've been given our 
orders and we are bound by duty to follow them."

He bit his lower lip, dropping his gaze to the ground and nodding 
irritably.

She recognized the look of childlike petulance that crossed her friend's 
face. The expression rarely made an appearance, only surfacing when 
Thompson knew better than to question an order or opinion, choosing to 
internalize his dissatisfaction. Smiling slightly, she playfully kicked 
out, her foot lightly smacking his rear.

"Besides, you need someone to watch your butt over there!"

Wide grins spread their lips, and the two lieutenants broke into 
laughter, the solemn atmosphere dissolving in a flash.

"Yes, ma'am," Thompson said, chuckling as he stepped closer, breaching 
her personal space.

The mood between them charged electrically as he gently hooked his 
forefinger around the chain of her dog tags. Her heart began beating a 
little faster as he tenderly rested his forehead against hers, his dark 
brown eyes staring intently into her blue ones.

"You know, I always feel safe when I'm at your side. It doesn't matter if 
I'm in the air or here on the ground. I know I can rely on you."

Carter nodded slowly in accordance, her breath catching in her throat as 
the slight movement bumped her nose against his.

They were still as statues, feeling the rapid puffs of air on each 
other's lips, so close yet so far away.

Her mind raced a mile a minute.

From the very beginning, she had felt an undeniable attraction to him. 
His gorgeous eyes and easy smile were the trademark appearance of a 
classic boyish fighter pilot, but beneath the exterior good looks, his 
inborn charm and unending streak of brilliance had completely captivated 
her. It was second nature for her to trade complex ideas with him just as 
easily as it was to poke fun at one another.

She had never known anyone like him.

Little by little, she had begun to see something more in her best friend, 
and she always wondered if he could ever reciprocate the powerful 
feelings that coursed through her. Thus far, she'd never made a move, too 
frightened to jeopardize the cherished bond she shared with him should he 
not feel the same way.

As if reading her thoughts, he quizzically tilted his head to the side 
before a lopsided smile spread across his face. Reaching up, Thompson 
delicately brushed her bangs back from her forehead, winding his other 
arm around her waist. Her lips parted slightly as he slowly ducked his 
head toward hers, her eyes drifting shut as she felt him leaning in.

Cheerful voices and laughter rang through the air somewhere down the 
opposite corridor, the sounds shattering the silence and breaking the 
moment.

Carter turned her flushed face, jerking away from him. At the same time, 
Thompson shuffled backwards, nearly tripping over his feet as he quickly 
put some distance between the two of them.

It was not a second later when Lieutenants Lovell and Hickam rounded the 
corner, apparently in good spirits as they ambled toward the flustered 
Carter and Thompson.

"Hey, we were wondering where you guys disappeared to," Hickam greeted 
them in passing on his way to his quarters.

"Yeah, the rest of the squadron was planning on where to throw a little 
farewell party in town the night before we deploy," Lovell added, eyeing 
their bright pink cheeks suspiciously.

Carter cleared her throat, quickly averting her eyes, while Thompson's 
gaze retreated to the floor, his hand running over the back of his neck.

Lovell grinned at their obvious discomfort, pushing past Thompson to get 
to the door of his room. As he turned the knob, the older lieutenant 
paused and looked back, unable to restrain himself from making his 
friends squirm.

"Next time, try getting inside the room before you start making out, 
flyboy. Wouldn't want Major Wells to catch you two in the heat of the 
moment, now would we?" he joked, winking before he escaped inside his 
quarters.

Thompson glared at the door, looking embarrassed and angry at Lovell's 
words before he heard the soft click of another door opening behind him. 
Whirling around, he found Carter withdrawing into her own room.

"Sam?"

She gave him an apologetic small smile.

"I have to get some work done. I'll see you tomorrow," she said softly, 
closing the door completely.

She rested against the polished wood, her heart still racing from the 
rush of emotion. Turning on her side, Carter pressed her ear against the 
door, listening for any sound of Thompson outside, half wishing he would 
knock and ask to be invited inside.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there before disappointment settled in 
as she finally heard his fading footsteps walking reluctantly away.

                         *******************

Chapter 3

Saturday, November 17, 1990

The rising sun peeked over the crest of the majestic, snow-topped Wasatch 
Mountains, bathing the grounds of Hill AFB in a soothing, orange glow. 
Light snowfall had sprinkled down to earth the previous night, but the 
rays of warm sunshine began melting the moisture away bit by bit as day 
broke. The forecast called for another exceedingly cold but beautiful 
day, typical weather for mid-November.

On an average Saturday morning, the majority of Hill's residents would be 
sound asleep in their quarters, taking advantage of their weekend off to 
sleep in.

This, however, was no ordinary day.

In spite of the very early hour, personnel scurried every which way 
across the base. Crates filled with gear were being loaded onto large 
transport planes, fighter planes were being fueled and examined, and the 
little snow that remained was being shoveled off the runways in 
preparation for the 4th and 421st Fighter Squadron's departure to the 
Middle East.

Amid the flurry of activity, one lone figure clad in full Air Force dress 
uniform stood, appraising the men and women who were attending to the 
morning tasks. He scanned the airfield and smiled as he caught a glimpse 
of the person he was looking for.

Major General Jacob Carter's footsteps sounded quietly on the concrete as 
he walked toward the bundle of blankets beneath the F-16 with the 
wizard's wand emblazoned on its tail. He'd spent the past half hour 
searching for her and wasn't the least bit surprised to find her out 
here, leaning against the forward landing gear of her plane.

As he drew closer, his daughter became more visible.

Sam Carter was wearing her heavy flight jacket over civilian clothes, 
armed with a flashlight, an astrophysics book, and a pencil, scribbling 
notes on the pages of a notebook at a measured pace. A scarf was wrapped 
around her neck, but her cheeks and nose shimmered bright pink after 
remaining exposed to the bitter temperature.

He stopped three feet in front of her, yet she did not look up from her 
work. The general's smile widened as he considered using his best drill 
sergeant voice to capture her attention, but decided against it. He 
didn't want to scare the living daylights out of her.

"Sam?"

Carter lifted her head at the sound of his voice, pushing the rim of her 
military-issued baseball cap up away from her eyes and pulling her scarf 
down from her mouth.

"Dad," she said, surprise evident in her voice. "What are you doing 
here?"

"Looking for you," General Carter answered. "Have you been out here all 
night?"

A bewildered expression crossed her face as she took a look around, 
suddenly realizing it was morning.

Last night, she had joined her friends for a couple of drinks in town, 
celebrating their final day in the States. Before the party could really 
swing into action, she had excused herself and retreated back to the 
base, needing some time alone with her thoughts.

In the end, Carter wound up gathering her thesis material and found 
herself wrapped up in a couple of blankets beneath her F-16, taking 
comfort in the books and the proximity of her plane. She had 
inadvertently stayed out all night, inattentive of the cold and the 
passing time.

She gave her father a small, self-conscious grin.

"Um, yeah. I guess I have."

General Carter smiled in return, not finding her behavior unusual at all. 
His daughter had a knack for losing track of everything when she immersed 
herself in her work, dedicating her full attention to whatever task she 
was asked to perform.

"Mind if I join you?"

She pulled back on one side of the blanket she was enveloped in, silently 
inviting him to sit next to her. He complied, settling himself beside 
her.

"Nice and toasty," he commented, marveling at how warm her little study 
area was despite the chilly weather.

Carter smiled easily, snuggling closer to the father she hadn't seen in a 
very long time. The rigorous training schedule her squadron had been on 
the past few months hadn't permitted much downtime, as they'd spent 
almost every day logging countless hours in the sky. The little free time 
she'd managed to find wasn't enough to plan a trip to see her father, who 
was stationed across the country in Washington, D.C.

"So what are you working on?"

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd review a few things before I left. 
Last minute notes for my doctoral thesis."

He nodded, glancing down at the notes she'd written in her notebook. From 
the expression on his face, he clearly didn't understand much of the 
information, but she was happy that he was making an effort to take an 
interest in something that mattered to her. She usually had a difficult 
time discussing any issues with her father that didn't pertain to the Air 
Force.

"How's that going?"

Turning her attention back to her book, she shrugged slightly.

"I'll be done soon enough, I suppose. When I get back from my tour 
overseas, I'm planning on conducting a couple more experiments that will 
support my theories. The rest should be a piece of cake."

Pride shone on the general's face as he draped an arm around her 
shoulders, squeezing her closer.

"You'll be playing up in space in no time, kid."

She beamed at the praise, giving him one of her dazzling smiles.

"Thanks, Dad."

Since the age of four, Carter had wanted nothing more than a chance to go 
into outer space. Watching the Apollo 11 lunar landing with her mother 
and brother, she was fascinated by the fact that the men on the 
television set were actually standing on the surface of the moon. She 
remembered giggling in delight as they began hopping around in the near-
zero gravity, thoroughly enjoying herself almost as much as the 
astronauts themselves appeared to be.

Her father had been away that summer, spending several months on an 
overseas tour. When he'd returned home that winter, he had brought with 
him one of the best presents Carter had ever received as a child - a 
Major Matt Mason astronaut doll. That Christmas morning, father and 
daughter began mapping out the first plans to make her an astronaut 
someday, a dream that seemed closer and closer to coming true with each 
passing year.

"Sam, we're almost ready to start fueling your --"

Technical Sergeant Lowe stopped short as he appeared from beneath the 
starboard wing of the F-16, noticing Carter was not alone. Realizing who 
was sitting with her, he snapped to attention.

"General Carter, sir!"

He rose leisurely to his feet, giving his daughter a hand up.

"At ease, Sergeant."

"What's going on, Alan?" Carter asked her chief crewman.

"Ma'am, the fueling crews are nearly finished with Lieutenant Lovell's 
fighter, and they will be heading around to fuel yours next," he reported 
perfunctorily.

Nodding, she smiled forcefully.

"Thank you, Alan."

The sergeant saluted and scampered back to the aft section of the fighter 
plane, watching as the crews completed their work on Lovell's aircraft. 
Across the taxiway area, a few more crews were similarly fueling other F-
16s from their squadron, as well as the squadron that would be 
accompanying them.

She studied them for a moment before giving her father a sideway glance.

"I guess I'd better go change and make sure I have everything ready."

General Carter nodded curtly, his own eyes fixed on his daughter's 
airplane. She watched, filled with curiosity, as he ran a hand along the 
edge of the wing. Her father had been a pilot during the Cold War, and 
she knew he was pleased that at least one of children had inherited his 
passion for flying.

A small smile appeared on his face.

"They sure don't make them like they used to," he said softly, patting 
the side of the fuselage. Clearing his throat, he returned his gaze to 
Carter.

"Come on. I'll walk you to your quarters."

She quickly gathered her belongings and fell into step beside him. As 
they walked to the officers' quarters, she took her first real look 
around, fully becoming aware of the activity across the base.

"This makes everything so real," she murmured.

"What does?"

Carter waved her free hand in an arc, indicating the personnel bustling 
around Hill.

"Seeing this makes me believe I'm not dreaming. Makes me realize that 
this is all really happening."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"About that. What do you think of this mission?"

"Major Wells thinks we're ready --"

Her father unexpectedly stopped and raised his hand, motioning for 
silence and receiving it from his daughter immediately. His voice was 
firm when he addressed her.

"I respect Major Wells, Sam. He's a fine officer. But I asked for your 
opinion on this operation, not his."

Casting her gaze to the ground, Carter's eyebrows lifted slightly as she 
considered her answer. Jacob Carter did not appreciate those who beat 
around the bush and sidestepped the crux of an important matter. She had 
learned long ago that whenever she was dealing with her father, honesty 
was the best policy.

"When I first heard the rumors that we might be assigned to Desert 
Shield, I didn't want to go," she admitted as they continued walking. 
"And I certainly don't approve of my friends' reasons for wanting to go. 
They can't wait to get combat experience, to go in with their guns 
blazing. All the wrong reasons for this campaign."

Sighing, she leveled her eyes on his.

"But there are people in the Middle East that have no defense against 
their enemies, and they need our help. If I can do anything to aid those 
people, I'm ready and willing to be over there."

By the time she had finished the one-sided discussion, they were standing 
outside of her quarters. Pulling her keys out of her pocket, she opened 
the door, and they strode inside.

The general had remained silent since he had stopped her outside of the 
building, keeping his comments on her viewpoints to himself as he'd 
intently listened to what she had to say. Now, he merely studied her 
room, observing his daughter's living quarters.

Carter had generally been a tidy person well before joining the military. 
The quaint little room was kept straight and ordered at all times. The 
bed was made when she wasn't sleeping in it, the blinds were regularly 
dusted, the laundry was folded and stored away, and the carpet was 
vacuumed once or twice a week.

Her desk, on the other land, looked like a disaster area.

Piles of books and mountains of paper littered the desktop. Her computer 
was barely visible amid the other junk. Coffee mugs, energy bar wrappers, 
star maps, and photographs completely obscured the remaining free space.

She meticulously added the books she had used last night to the chaotic 
workspace, balancing them precariously on another heap of books.

General Carter stared at the mess before slowly tracking his gaze upwards 
to the young woman who stood behind the desk.

She grinned at her father, presenting him with her best 'innocent little 
girl' look that had melted his heart as long as she could recall. Upon 
seeing her sparkling blue eyes and dimpled smile, he began chuckling, 
shaking his head.

"There are some things about you that haven't changed one bit, Sam."

Walking over to her bed, he took hold of her packed duffel bag and placed 
it on the floor, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. He signaled 
for her to join him and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, handing 
it to her.

"This is where I'll be stationed. Not too far from where you'll be, 
actually, and there's a number where you can reach me if you need 
anything."

Carter carefully placed the paper in the inside pocket of her flight 
jacket for safekeeping, inquisitively watching as her father retrieved 
his wallet and delicately removed a small photograph from it. He passed 
it along to her.

She blinked in surprise as she looked down on it, the images becoming 
blurry behind the sudden prickle of tears. Her mother and a much younger 
Samantha smiled up at her from the picture as they held on to each other 
and an old radio-controlled airplane they had christened "Miss Carter."

"I found it the other day in a box of old pictures," her father told her. 
"I thought you might like to have it."

She bit her lip, her fingers clutching the edges of the fading photo as 
the memories swept through her.

The small airplane had been one of her most treasured childhood 
possessions, a gift from a mother who fully supported her daughter's 
dreams of becoming an astronaut. She had frequently spent her time flying 
it around the various bases she had grown up on, a constant companion she 
never tired of throughout the many moves.

Great care and conditioning had been placed into the little aircraft for 
many years, until only two days before her mother's tragic accident when 
the plane had unexpectedly stopped working. No matter how much she 
fiddled with it, dismantling it and putting it back together again, she 
never got it running again.

It was a harsh premonition of what would become one of the roughest times 
in her life.

A hand reached out to rest over hers, holding on lightly.

Slowly, Carter raised her tear-filled eyes to look at her father. Even 
though she had forgiven him long ago for not picking up her mother on 
that fateful day, their relationship had continued to be strained, 
vacillating between uneasy acceptance and outright avoidance.

Lately, things had been much better between them. Both father and 
daughter were working hard on mending the broken pieces back together, 
learning to lower their defenses and becoming more at ease around each 
other.

"Your mom is going to be watching over you, kid. Every second of every 
day while you're over there. And I'll just be a phone call away if you 
need me."

Swallowing the lump that had lodged itself in her throat, she wiped at 
her eyes with the back of her hand, remembering the expression her father 
had instilled in her at a young age.

Big girls don't cry.

Forcing back the tears, Carter sniffled quietly.

"Thank you."

Reaching up, he cradled her face with his hands, tilting her head so that 
they were eye to eye.

"Make me proud, Sam."

Regaining control of her emotions, she smiled confidently at him, her 
innate desire to please her father surging through her.

"I'll do my best, sir."

The general brushed the unruly bangs from her forehead, affectionately 
stroking her hair as he once did when she was a child. The smile on her 
face wavered at the contact, the firm hold she had on her emotions 
becoming tenuous once again as she looked into her father's eyes.

Unable to hold back any longer, she launched herself into his waiting 
arms, hugging him tightly.

"I love you, kid," he said softly.

Carter squeezed her eyes shut, holding on to her father with all her 
might.

"I love you, too, Dad."

                         *******************

Chapter 4

Monday, November 19, 1990

'Holy Hannah!'

Her father's trademark phrase of expressing astonishment came unbidden to 
Carter's mind as she looked down at the landscape of southern Saudi 
Arabia.

From her background reading, she recognized what they were flying over as 
one of the largest sand deserts in the world. Compared to the 
southwestern American deserts they had trained over, this location was 
astonishing in its sheer grandness. Massive sand dunes stretched as far 
as the eye could see, shifting almost imperceptibly in the wind.

"That's the Rub-al-Khali down there," Major Wells radioed the group. 
"250,000 square miles of desert. It'll be the backdoor of our little base 
near Khamis Mushayt."

The names of the desert and city closest to their base rolled 
effortlessly off her commanding officer's tongue. Obviously, he had spent 
some time learning to correctly pronounce the unfamiliar Arabic names.

If it had been possible, Carter would have gladly spent the trip to the 
Middle East studying her English-to-Arabic dictionary, learning the 
pronunciations of useful words. As it was, she had been stuck in her 
fighter plane for hours going stir-crazy from the lack of things to do.

Late Saturday afternoon, the 4th and 421st Fighter Squadrons had departed 
Hill, flying nonstop across the continental United States and the 
Atlantic, refueling in midair. By early Sunday morning, the squadrons had 
reached Italy's Aviano Air Base, where the pilots were allowed a couple 
of hours rest before heading off to their next destination. As the sun 
was setting, they were in the sky again, flying to Turkey's Incirlik Air 
Base where they received their new trajectory.

The course took them across the waters of the Mediterranean, above the 
pyramids of Egypt, and over the narrow Red Sea. By dawn, they had their 
first glimpse of the rich, golden sands of Saudi Arabia from high above 
as they made their final approach toward the base.

As they flew further south, the elevation rose almost drastically, the 
landscape changing from sandy desert to rocky terrain.

The King Khalid Air Base was tucked away in the Asir Mountains in the 
extreme southwest region of Saudi Arabia. Nearby, the city of Khamis 
Mushayt was bustling with activity, a hub populated with market people 
and traders, occupied by approximately 35,000 citizens. The base itself 
was clearly visible outside the smaller market centers, the blinking 
runway lights serving as a beacon to the two American fighter squadrons.

"Hey, number 4 and 421! Greetings from King Khalid Air Base. Over," an 
awfully cheerful voice announced over the open frequency.

Major Wells replied, "Reading you loud and clear, Khalid. Over."

"Good to finally see you, Khalid. Over," added Lieutenant Colonel Ryan 
Anderson, the commanding officer of the 4th Fighter Squadron.

"Copy that. You guys are cleared for landing on runway one. Welcome to 
Saudi Arabia, over."

The planes eased down onto the runway two at a time and were immediately 
directed where to taxi. Ultimately, the two squadrons wound up facing 
across from each other, lined wingtip to wingtip by the runway in a 
couple of neat rows.

Carter smiled as she popped open the canopy, glad to finally be on solid 
ground once again. Unhooking her oxygen mask, she took a deep breath of 
the fresh mountain air, curiously looking around at the foreign 
surroundings.

Aside from the expansive desert to the east and the glimmer of the Red 
Sea to the west, things didn't look too different from Hill. Military 
personnel bustled around the base, attending to various tasks from 
monitoring the perimeter to working on airplanes. Her friends sat in the 
cockpits of their fighter jets, conducting power down procedures just as 
they always had following the conclusion of a mission.

'Just like home,' she reminded herself, trying to believe it.

The sound of her ladder clanking against the hull of the plane drew her 
attention down to the unfamiliar face of one of her temporary crewman. He 
smiled politely.

"Morning, ma'am. I'm Sergeant Gomez."

Furnishing him with a quick, courteous smile, she felt a pang of 
homesickness flood her, but hastily squelched down the feeling. The 
squadron's personal maintenance crews were due to arrive at the base on a 
transport plane within the day. In the meantime, the least she could do 
was be nice to the temps.

After powering down the F-16, Carter thanked the crew and grabbed her 
gear, heading off to the command building for her orders. As she walked, 
she took her first look at the base from the ground, observing the sights 
and sounds that would eventually become habitual to her.

The King Khalid Air Base control tower was the tallest structure on the 
base, looming over the compounds and rows of tents below. Toward the 
eastern horizon, the dunes of the Rub-al-Khali were openly discernible. 
To the north, she could see the outlines of buildings along the outer 
limits of Khamis Mushayt.

The local scenery was a drastic change from the customary sight of having 
the Rocky Mountains in their backyard, where they constantly battled the 
elements of snow and ice. In Saudi, the odds of seeing any kind of wintry 
weather were unlikely. With the exception of nightfall, temperatures 
generally remained very warm in this part of the world throughout the 
winter season.

Upon arriving at the command building, she was directed by the SF at the 
door to report to the briefing room down the hall. Dutifully picking up 
her gear again, she strode into the large room, peering in.

Rows of chairs lined the spacious interior, facing forward toward a long 
blackboard covered in maps. Someone had drawn what she recognized as 
flight paths over Saudi Arabia, Iraq, and Kuwait. A multitude of colors 
decorated the maps of the region, and after studying them for a moment, 
Carter abruptly realized each color represented different branches of the 
U.S. military and the coalition forces stationed across the Middle East.

"What are you thinking, Wizard?"

A smile twitched her lips at the sound of Thompson's voice. She hadn't 
heard him approach from behind her. Either his stealth skills were 
improving, or she was losing her edges. Shaking her head marginally, she 
forced her attention away from the maps.

"I'm not thinking. Just looking," she told him simply.

Grinning, Thompson replied, "Yeah, right. The day you stop thinking is 
the day hell freezes over."

Nodding his head to the chairs, he beckoned her to follow him as more 
pilots began walking into the room.

The briefing was short and to the point.

Lieutenant Colonel Anderson introduced the base commanding officer, 
Brigadier General Grant Davis. The tall, gray-haired one-star greeted 
them gruffly before beginning his oration on what their current status 
was, sticking to the bare facts.

The United Nations had demanded the Iraqi forces withdraw from Kuwait by 
0800 hours on January 15. If the mandate was not met, the coalition 
forces would be fully authorized to use whatever force necessary to end 
the incursion.

The two squadron commanders picked up the rest of the details after 
General Davis headed out to his next duty, informing them that their 
primary orders would be issued first thing tomorrow morning.

Wells and Anderson broke the squads into smaller groups, handing out 
manuals on the alternating assignments each group would be required to 
focus on. They ranged from briefings on bombing run scenarios and 
studying intelligence reports from Special Ops to logging hours in the 
skies over their command base in the F-16 Fighting Falcons and F-117 
Nighthawks. During their downtime, the groups would be allowed time to 
attend to their personal interests.

Room assignments were dispensed, and afterwards, they were dismissed.

The pilots were fortunate to obtain better sleeping quarters than most of 
the other personnel on base due to the awkward hours they'd soon be 
keeping. Barracks were built into the hardened aircraft shelters, located 
in the same facilities where they invaluable stealth planes would be kept 
when they arrived, protecting the aircraft as well as the pilots who 
would be flying them.

Carter walked alongside Thompson and Lovell as they searched for their 
new quarters.

Captains James Martinez and Sean McCullough would be sharing the first 
room with Lieutenants Bobby Wood and Derek Hall across the hallway. 
Rupert O'Malley, Robert Fulco, Todd Hickam, and Jonathan Bennett had 
chosen to share the room next to theirs, and Sam Carter, Josh Thompson, 
and Matthew Lovell were situated across from them.

Carter dropped her gear beside one of the bunks, studying the cramped 
room. Her two friends tossed their own bags haphazardly into a corner 
before Thompson clambered up to claim the top bunk and Lovell dived onto 
the bottom one.

Turning around to face them, a wicked grin appeared on her face.

"If I hear moans coming from your side of the room tonight, should I just 
assume you're telling scary stories?"

Thompson and Lovell froze, their mouths dropping open in surprise. Carter 
crossed her arms at her chest, smiling in delight as a wave of pride 
swept through her at the minor accomplishment. She definitely still had 
it in her to hang with the boys.

Their momentary shock at her coarse comment soon passed, and a 
mischievous, toothy smile found its way onto Lovell's face. It was the 
one that always meant trouble.

"Better watch it, little sister, or you may wind up with some creepy, 
crawly bedmates. I read that scorpions love hiding out in blonde-haired, 
blue-eyed girls' beds."

Thompson snickered, pantomiming the Itsy-Bitsy Spider hand motions, 
drawing a glare from Carter and a laugh from Lovell, who gestured toward 
their bags.

"Come on, Josh. The sooner we unpack, the sooner we can look for Sammy's 
new friends."

As they lugged their bags onto their bunks, Carter leaned over and swung 
her rucksack on to the mattress. Grabbing something from within, she 
brandished it in their direction.

"Funny. But just so you know, I'll be using this on ALL uninvited guests, 
and not just the eight-legged variety."

To emphasize her point, she released a brief spurt of bug spray at them, 
grinning. Laughter emanated from Thompson and Lovell, who appreciated the 
good-natured barb.

Dragging her own duffel bag to her bunk, she sat and glanced around her 
new home, envisioning where to store everything. Sighing, Carter unzipped 
the large duffel, rummaging through it. Several pairs of BDUs, an extra 
pair of combat boots, lots of sunblock...

All of a sudden, a rustling sound seized her attention, and her hands 
stilled for a moment to listen carefully.

From across the room, a loud, high-pitched voice yelled, "Oh, Joshie!"

Another squeal rang through the air, followed by a falsetto voice 
shouting another name. 

"Oh, Matty!"

Two pairs of boxers landed neatly on her nightstand, one hanging on to 
the small lamp, the other dangling just below it.

Turning her head to the articles of clothing, she raised her eyebrows at 
the decorative prints. One pair had a pattern of small airplanes set 
against a backdrop of white, fluffy clouds, while the other set was black 
with crisscrossing little red hearts.

Carter laughed out loud at the absurd patterns, smiling in delight at her 
friends' attempt to lighten the atmosphere of the situation they were in. 
She was just catching her breath when she heard Jon Bennett yell from 
outside.

"Hey, hey, hey! Quit the hanky-panky till the sun goes down, boys!"

Breaking into another furious fit of giggles, Carter gasped for air, 
clutching her sides as the laughter shook her body. Once the boys had 
quieted down, she lay tranquilly on the bunk, wiping the remnants of 
laughing-induced tears from her face and smiling slightly, thankful for 
her friends' never-ending sense of humor.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad here after all.

                         *******************

Jack O'Neill grinned from ear to ear.

"Scorpions have a thing for blonde-haired, blue-eyed girls? Think I'll 
keep that in mind the next time we find ourselves on one of those sandy 
planets you love so much."

Carter winced, shaking her head.

"I wouldn't count on that, sir."

"Why not?"

Wrinkling her nose, she answered, "A scorpion's sting isn't something you 
want to become familiar with. Trust me."

He raised his eyebrows, surprise etched on his face.

"Thompson and Lovell actually planted them in your bunk?"

"They tried to," she admitted, remembering the day she found the pair of 
troublemakers attempting to sneak their new insect friends into her 
mattress.

"Matt wound up getting stung and was sick for a week."

Carter grimaced as she recalled helping Thompson carry the feverish 
Lovell to the medical building. It wasn't pretty. Between his 
incomprehensible sputtering and thrashing, he'd managed to vomit over 
both of them twice, finally settling down as the doctor injected him with 
antivenin to counteract the effects of the sting.

"Needless to say, they both learned a lesson, sir."

A sly smile crossed O'Neill's face.

"Think I can talk Daniel into handling them for me?"

"Colonel!" she exclaimed, momentarily appalled that he would consider 
such a thing before recognizing the good-humored look on his face. 
Chuckling, she bestowed him with a knowing glance.

"Sir, Daniel's spent a good deal of time in Egypt. I'm sure he's well-
aware of how dangerous some scorpions can be."

"Damn!" he cried out, feigning disappointment.

Carter smiled, appreciating his boundless, if at times twisted, sense of 
humor.

Craning her neck, she took note of how high the sun was located above the 
treetops. The morning had quickly turned into mid-afternoon during her 
storytelling, and her stomach rumbled earnestly, reminding her that her 
last meal, if you could call it that, had been hours ago. She rummaged 
through her pockets, searching for a couple of energy bars, and handed 
one to her CO.

The colonel accepted the package gratefully, pulling off the wrapper and 
munching hungrily, but he grimaced at the bland taste of the bar.

"Think we should start back for camp, sir?" she questioned.

Nodding in reply, O'Neill walked by her side, mindful of the leafy path 
while he finished the energy bar. He made a quick radio call to Teal'c, 
informing their companion that he and Carter were on their way back.

"Thanksgiving and Christmas came and went swiftly," the major stated 
after a few minutes of silence, continuing her tale.

"When do they not?" he asked, stuffing their empty wrappers in his 
pocket.

Grinning, she replied, "I know what you mean. I spent more than a few of 
my Christmas and summer leaves in Texas with Josh's family. Those days 
always passed by too quickly."

All of a sudden, the colonel stopped in his tracks, an exaggerated look 
written all over his face.

"Wait just one minute! You're telling me someone actually dragged you 
away from your work?" He placed a hand over his chest, clutching his 
heart. "Carter, I'm shocked!"

The major cocked her head to the side, smiling wryly.

"Very funny, sir."

O'Neill laughed quietly, placing his hand upon her back and giving her a 
gentle push forward, signifying she should continue walking.

"His parents welcomed me with open arms. I think Mrs. Thompson loved 
having another woman in the house after raising two rough-and-tumble 
boys."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye before clambering over a 
fallen tree trunk.

"What about Jacob?"

Carter shrugged.

"He was stationed overseas throughout the duration of my instruction at 
the Academy, sir."

Certainly, she missed her father while he was away, but after having 
grown up with him being gone most of the time, it wasn't too big of deal 
by the time she had hit her twenties.

"During our second year, Josh noticed I was planning on spending another 
leave at school again, so he invited me to accompany him to Austin for 
Christmas. It became a tradition of sorts, spending the winters and 
summers in Texas."

A small smile graced O'Neill's lips.

"Run into General Hammond by any chance?"

Carter laughed quietly, shaking her head.

"No, sir. I think he's from northern Texas, actually."

"Ah."

Plucking a large leaf off a low-hanging, thin branch, the colonel twisted 
its stem around in his fingers, twirling it back and forth. Carter 
couldn't help but smile. The man always had to be doing something with 
his hands.

"So how did you keep busy all those months?"

Tugging the leaf out of his hand, she sighed.

"It was difficult, at first. I was so used to always doing something. 
Running simulations on the computers, training against other squadron 
members, working on my doctoral thesis. None of that was available to me 
in Saudi."

Carter grinned as she recalled something.

"I think it was Major Wells who noticed how antsy I was becoming."

"Did he order you to chill out?" he joked.

She bit her lower lip, trying to keep from smiling.

"As a matter of fact, sir..."

"You're kidding!" he shouted. "You sure we're talking about the same 
Brayden Wells here?"

"Yes, sir. Lieutenant Colonel Anderson later informed me that General 
Davis had ordered Major Wells to quit being so anxious all the time. 
Apparently, the major decided to pass that message down to me, as well."

"I'm guessing you took his advice?"

Carter nodded, replying, "On my free days, I learned to just...hang out. 
Played cards with the guys, learned to ride a camel, went scuba diving in 
the Red Sea once."

O'Neill quickly stepped in her path, blocking her.

"Hold it," he said, raising his hands. "Did you just say you learned to 
ride a camel?"

Smiling broadly at his astonishment, she responded, "Yes, sir. I became 
quite adept. They're actually very cute, once you get past the fact that 
they spit and smell."

He shook his head in awe, mumbling, "You never cease to amaze me, 
Carter." Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he quietly added, "At least 
you kids had it easy."

Frowning slightly, she risked a glance at O'Neill.

His face was serene, but Carter wondered what errant thoughts and 
memories that calm exterior hid. The colonel wasn't one who easily shared 
information about his past with anyone, but on occasion, he treated his 
team with bits and pieces of his history. After a few minutes of silence, 
it became apparent he would not be supplementing any more detail to his 
vague comment this time around.

The major mirrored her commanding officer's earlier action, sliding her 
hands inside her pant pockets as she continued to walk beside him.

"Sometimes we would just sit and talk around the campfire, sharing good 
stories and bad coffee. Those are some of the moments I'll never forget."

                         *******************

Monday, December 31, 1990

Carter shivered as the chilly northeasterly wind rippled across the base, 
watching as the small campfire's flames flickered and danced. She smiled 
in gratitude as Thompson and Lovell huddled closer to her in response, 
the combined body heat keeping them all warm.

On the other side of their private little New Year's Eve getaway spot, 
O'Malley, Hickam, and Bennett braved the elements as well, keeping their 
camouflage jackets zipped up to their chins.

The small group listened intently as Bennett detailed his excursion to 
Khamis Mushayt during his last day off. He had enjoyed the trip so much, 
he planned to spend the entire day there tomorrow. O'Malley quickly 
volunteered to join him.

"Finding stuff to do on base is getting old," he declared. "I want to see 
some city life before things start swinging around here."

Thompson smiled.

"It's nice over here, but I won't consider it a true paradise until a 
warm ocean miraculously appears to complement all the sand."

"Yeah, and some beautiful women in teeny bikinis!" Bennett added, 
laughing.

Carter cleared her throat, reminding them of her presence. Sometimes it 
was all too easy for them to forget she was a woman, and the thought both 
pleased and annoyed her.

On one hand, she prided herself on how much the young men considered her 
to be just as good a pilot and soldier as they were, regularly commending 
her refined skills and quick mind as they would any other flyboy.

On the other hand, there were times when it wasn't so easy to blend in. 
She respected them as fellow officers and good friends, but from time to 
time they could be just as rude and uncouth as several of the closed-
minded Air Force officers she had encountered through her career.

Lovell chuckled softly beside her, nudging her shoulder.

"Aw, Sammy, we know you're beautiful, but you're our little buddy."

O'Malley grinned from across the campfire.

"Besides, we know you'd kick our ass if we ever tried to take advantage 
of you."

Her companions smiled as she chucked some sand in his direction with her 
booted foot, well aware that they knew how capable she was.

By the time she'd been assigned to the 421st, Carter was proficient in 
hand-to-hand combat training. Her friends had helped her perfect her 
self-defense skills, sharpening her already remarkable abilities.

The thought made her pause for a moment as she remembered an earlier 
incident from today.

"I wish we could do more than kick sand at nuisances," she mumbled, 
tossing her cold coffee behind her.

The group settled down at her soft comment, all of them apparently 
recalling how close Derek Hall had come to engaging in a fistfight with 
Carter this morning. The word had spread quickly among the junior 
officers in their squadron.

The pair had been reviewing satellite imagery of Baghdad, managing to 
grudgingly work in each other's company despite the friction between 
them. Major Wells had just left them alone after checking their progress 
when Carter made an observation about a weather pattern.

Hall had vehemently disagreed, arguing his point against hers. Adamantly, 
Carter insisted she had spent twice the time working with such 
photographs during her post-graduate studies with Air Force and NASA 
satellite images and knew what she was doing.

The comment certainly hit a mark. Hall's face had flushed beet red as he 
shoved the images to the ground.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked, a trace of anger laced in her 
voice.

Before he walked away, she heard him mutter, "You think you know 
everything about the space program, Carter. Why don't you finish the 
project on your own?"

Unwilling to let go of the dispute, she trailed after him.

"Excuse me. We were ordered to work on this assignment together, 
Lieutenant Hall. If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with 
Major Wells."

He didn't even spare her a glance as he kept marching.

Before she could stop herself, she spit out, "Maybe if you'd quit 
hassling me, you'd have more time to work on your own research on NASA 
technology!"

Carter consciously knew she had struck a nerve, calling to mind the fact 
that Hall had been studiously working on satellite research in hope of 
earning credentials that would impress NASA. It was a low blow comment, 
and the reaction she provoked didn't exactly take her by surprise.

He spun around, throwing a wild punch in her direction in his outrage.

Ducking the high, unstable swing, she immediately raised her own fists in 
defense, prepared should he attempt to strike at her again. The sound of 
running feet barely registered in her mind as she carefully observed 
Hall, waiting for his next move. His pale, blue eyes shone with more 
resentment than she had ever encountered before, frightening her.

All of a sudden, O'Malley was driving Hall from her while Hickam grabbed 
hold of Carter's upper arm, slowly pulling her a safe distance away.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" O'Malley shouted.

Hall had taken one look at the three of them before crossly stalking 
away, fuming.

Carter couldn't help but remember the fights she'd gotten into with her 
brother, Mark, when she was younger. Both of them always ended up 
grounded when they were caught, despite Sam's protests that Mark usually 
initiated the fighting.

Her father had continually told her it didn't matter if her brother had 
started it because she regularly joined in the arguing instead of wisely 
walking away. Therefore, Sam was just as responsible for her actions as 
Mark was and would have to suffer the same consequences.

She sighed heavily as she considered what the consequences might have 
been had anyone other than O'Malley and Hickam witnessed the altercation. 
If a senior officer had seen them, she had no doubt that she and Hall 
would have immediately been shipped back to the States for their 
behavior, receiving a court-martial the second they stepped off the 
transport plane.

Carter looked up into the faces of her friends, the firelight casting her 
features in an orange glow.

"I don't understand what I could have done to set him off on me in the 
beginning," she wondered aloud.

Five pairs of eyes exchanged hesitant expressions before lowering their 
gazes to the ground. Right away, Carter grew suspicious, instantly 
realizing they knew something she didn't and not liking it one bit.

"Spill it, guys," she demanded, curious to discover what they had been 
concealing.

Hickam, the tranquil one of the bunch, was the first to speak.

"He thinks you're a daddy's girl, Sam," he said quietly, running a hand 
through his dark, wavy hair uneasily.

"What?"

Bennett nodded in agreement, all his usual joking put aside.

"He's always felt that just because your dad is a general, you're going 
to get an easy ride into NASA when the time comes."

She closed her eyes.

How could she have missed something like that? She personally knew that a 
number of the people assigned to the 388th Tactical Fighter Wing had big 
dreams of working their way into the space program eventually. Hell, she 
was one of them!

For months, Carter had been aware of that fact that her bitter rival also 
held those kind of dreams, striving to work his way up the scientific 
community with his studies on satellite technology between his rigorous 
flying exercises. She was also conscious of the number of people who 
fully and openly supported her own studies in the field of astrophysics, 
all of them giving her a helping hand up the ladder of success, including 
her father, despite her protests.

She could have kicked herself for not adding things up sooner. The 
jealousy and acrimony Hall constantly displayed suddenly became crystal 
clear in her eyes.

"I won't lie to you, guys. My dad did make it reasonably easy for me to 
get accepted into the Academy," she admitted sullenly.

"He may have," Thompson agreed, taking her gloved hand in his own. "But 
recommendations only go so far, Sam. Your accomplishments are too 
impressive to pass up."

Carter glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, listening attentively 
as he continued enthusiastically.

"Besides, look at everything you've done since then! You graduated at the 
top of your class, flew circles around the rest of us in flight school, 
and earned your Masters a year ahead of schedule. Your dad can't take any 
credit for that."

He squeezed her hand, gazing straight into her eyes.

"That was all Sam Carter. Not anyone else."

From across the campfire, Bennett exclaimed, "I'll raise my sludgy coffee 
to that!"

Suddenly, their digital watches went off within seconds of each other, 
alerting them that it was finally midnight. Another year had passed, and 
now a new one was beginning.

Farewell to 1990. Welcome to 1991.

The six friends stood and wished one another a happy new year before 
sauntering off to their quarters, ready for some sleep. Thompson and 
Carter hung back from the rest of the group, walking slowly and 
continuing to hold on to each other's hands.

Despite the late hour, their little airstrip hummed with movement.

Troops patrolled the perimeter, keeping an eye out for any signs of 
hostile activity. A contingent of newly assigned Special Forces watched 
over the stealth fighters, cautiously looking out for anyone trying to 
sneak a closer peek at the black jets. Here and there, handfuls of hired 
Saudi Arabian Bedouins worked various jobs, helping out with random 
tasks.

Carter instinctively moved closer to Thompson as one of them passed by, 
guiding three camels to their holding pen. The man smiled nervously at 
them, clutching his dark cloak to his body.

She wasn't sure of his name, but she'd previously seen him around the 
base. For some reason, she always felt a hint of distrust and unease 
whenever he was near, unable to shake the uncontrolled reaction. Clasping 
Thompson's hand tighter, she shook her head slightly. It was more than 
likely nothing.

Finally, they arrived outside the entrance to their sleeping quarters.

Carter and Thompson's eyes were glued to the clear, star-filled sky, 
watching in rapt fascination as a satellite passed by overhead.

She smiled as the object streaked across the heavens, considering her own 
hopes and dreams to someday have the opportunity to go into space. Her 
confidence in her ability to reach her goal continued to expand with each 
passing day. Of course, a little encouragement from friends always helped 
boost that confidence.

'Your accomplishments are too impressive to pass up.'

Thompson's words echoed through her mind as she turned to look upon her 
friend.

He was craning his neck to gaze adoringly at the stars above, his face 
holding all the wonder of a young boy. Regardless of his exceptional 
talent as a fighter pilot, Carter knew that rockets were his passion and 
strongest forte.

A few days ago, he had confided in her his desire to return home to work 
on new rocket designs as soon as their tour overseas was completed. 
Carter had listened intently as he explained his theories, feeling as if 
they were back home trading ideas like they used to before the chaos 
unfolding in the Persian Gulf had captured all of his interest.

She had smiled at him, glad he had taken up her advice to investigate 
celestial mechanics, the science of understanding the motions of 
particles in space. Combined with his knowledge of propulsion, his 
groundbreaking ideas had thoroughly amazed her.

As if sensing her eyes upon him, he finally tore his attention away from 
the night sky, smiling openly at her.

"I appreciate what you said tonight," she told him sincerely.

Thompson ducked his head, a faint blush staining his cheeks as he 
murmured, "Hey, it's what I'm here for."

After a quick moment, he recollected himself and motioned to the stealth 
planes parked inside their state-of-the-art hangar bays.

"Well, that and flying those babies, anyway."

Carter smiled, squeezing his fingers.

"Glad to know I mean as much as you as a Nighthawk, Josh."

"You know those aircraft mean the world to me, Sam," he deadpanned 
seriously, garnering a laugh from his companion.

The easygoing smile returned to his face as he asked, "Do you want to go 
log some hours together tomorrow?"

"That sounds great, Josh. You'd better be up bright and early."

His grin broadened, and before she could react, he bent and placed a 
swift kiss at the corner of her mouth, whispering, "Happy New Year, Sam."

She caught a fleeting glance at his shy smile before he escaped inside. 
Carter stood rooted in the same location, blinking in surprise at the 
tingling spot where his lips had been only moments ago. A slow smile 
graced her face, her eyes sparkling in the bright moonlight.

Taking one last look at the stars above, she strode inside, making her 
way down the corridor. Arriving at the correct door, she quietly entered 
the darkened room, noticing the silhouettes of the boys in their 
respective bunks. Removing her boots, she stretched out on her own bunk, 
falling asleep with the smile still playing on her lips.

Neither Carter nor Thompson made further mention of the kiss that New 
Year's Eve, but both realized something in their relationship had 
shifted. The line separating friendship and something more intimate had 
become paper thin, nearly invisible in the love struck pair's eyes.

Between the preparations for their upcoming missions, they managed to 
reserve some time alone every day. Whether deep in thought while playing 
a game of chess or quietly conversing in the comfort of each other's 
arms, they enjoyed the simple pleasure of one other's company.

Two weeks seemed to pass by in a flash, and before they knew it, the 
fifteenth of January had arrived. Personnel around the base kept a wary 
eye on their watches that morning, counting down the hours.

Carter tensely glanced down at her wristwatch as it beeped, grimacing at 
the time.

0800 hours.

No news of a withdrawal.

                         *******************

Chapter 5

Wednesday, January 16, 1991

Sam Carter sat silently on her bunk, elbows resting upon her knees and 
fingers rubbing absently against her temples. Deep, calm breaths filled 
her lungs as she meditated over what had happened today and what was yet 
to come.

The past thirty-six hours were a blur of constant motion in her memory. 
Briefing after briefing, detailed instructions were carefully issued to 
the pilots, reviewing everything imaginable.

The 421st Fighter Squadron had assessed the Aircraft Tasking Order one 
final time, all of the pilots confirming that they knew where and when 
they would be flying, and what their specific targets were. After hours 
of extensive studying, the group had the flight paths and coordinates 
down cold.

Earlier that afternoon, she had meticulously inspected every inch of her 
F-117 Nighthawk with the aid of her crew. Staff Sergeant Nolan and Senior 
Airman Edwards climbed over the awkwardly shaped aircraft, making sure it 
was safely secure, while Technical Sergeant Lowe assisted Carter in the 
cockpit.

The two appraised the slightly different controls carefully, both more 
accustomed to the F-16. But the lieutenant and her chief crewman had 
committed themselves to relearning the systems they had mastered control 
of only a couple of years ago when Carter was still in flight school.

Finding everything in order, she had left to the squad's final briefing 
with a mixed combination of confidence in her aircraft's security and 
trying her hardest to clamp down on her own nervousness.

Only minutes ago, Wells had given a customary speech, his pep talk 
inspiring and filling his squadron with determination.

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again. You people are here because 
you're the best at what you do. I've put you through some of the 
grittiest, kick-ass training there is in the Air Force, and every time, 
each of you exceeded my expectations."

For once, he had stood fixed in one spot, forgoing his usual pacing. 
Resting his strong han