She didn’t wait for the captain to defend her. Instead, she took a step forward, her voice clear. «Captain, I flew two tours in Afghanistan. Over sixty close-air-support missions. I’ve flown in and out of firestorms most people wouldn’t walk through. I know what it’s like to be on the ground, waiting, praying for air cover. I’ve been the voice that answered those calls.»
The room quieted. She turned her gaze across the SEALs, her tone sharper now, cutting through their skepticism. «You think I’m just a comms tech? Fine. But right now, none of you can get that Hog off the ground. I can. You don’t have to like me. You don’t even have to believe me. You just have to decide whether you’d rather keep waiting for a rescue that might not come or take the chance standing right in front of you.»
The words hung in the air like smoke after a gunshot. Some of the younger operators shifted uncomfortably, their bravado cracking under the weight of her conviction. The senior chief narrowed his eyes, not ready to yield. «Talk’s cheap. We’ve all heard guys brag about what they’ve done. Some of them don’t come back when it’s time to prove it.»
The captain raised a hand, silencing further words. He walked toward her slowly, boots echoing against the floor, stopping just a few feet away. His eyes searched hers, looking for hesitation, for fear, for anything that might betray her claim. But all he saw was certainty.
«What’s your callsign?» he asked quietly.
Her lips pressed into a faint line. «Valkyrie.»
It wasn’t said with flair, just matter-of-fact, but the name carried weight. Callsigns weren’t chosen; they were earned, given by squadrons to define a pilot’s reputation. The captain had heard hundreds of them over the years. Some were forgettable, but «Valkyrie» was not a name given lightly. A murmur spread through the room. The SEALs exchanged glances. This was no ordinary pilot.
The captain finally nodded once, as if something in him had been confirmed. «That Hog’s yours, then.»
The decision seemed final, but not everyone was ready to accept it. «Sir,» the senior chief pressed again, lowering his voice but keeping the edge. «You’re really gonna let her take that plane up? She hasn’t even suited up. We’ve never flown with her. If she screws this up, it’s not just her—it’s all of us.»
The captain turned sharply, his voice like a hammer on steel. «Chief, if you’ve got a better pilot hidden somewhere in your rucksack, speak now. Otherwise, stand down.»
The chief clenched his jaw, then said nothing. The room settled into a heavy silence. The captain’s word was final, but the doubt hadn’t disappeared. It clung to the air like static, thick and unshakable. She felt it pressing against her from all sides: the unspoken questions, the mistrust, the quiet calculations of men who had survived countless battles by trusting only their own.
She didn’t resent it. In fact, she understood it. Trust wasn’t given here; it was forged in fire. But she wasn’t here to win their approval. She was here to do a job.
«Get me to the runway,» she said firmly.
Two SEALs moved instinctively to flank her, their rifles slung but ready. The captain gestured for the rest to prepare. Radios sparked as messages went out, relaying the decision across the base. Mechanics stirred, floodlights flickered to life along the strip, and shadows danced across the hulking frame of the waiting A-10.
Still, the doubt lingered. As they walked through the corridors toward the open air, fragments of whispered conversation followed behind. «She better be who she says she is.» «If she is, we might just have a shot.» «Or she gets herself killed before we’re out the gate.»
She heard it all but didn’t react. Doubt wasn’t new to her. She’d felt it the first time she walked onto a flight line, the only woman in a squadron of hardened combat pilots. She’d felt it the first time she strapped into a Hog and had to prove to her crew chief she wasn’t going to crack under pressure. Doubt was as much a part of combat as bullets or explosions. But doubt never killed her. Fear never broke her. And tonight, neither would.
When they stepped out into the desert night, the sight of the A-10 waiting in silence stirred something deep inside her. The Warthog was battered, scarred from years of service. But to her, it was beautiful. Its wide wings stretched out like a predator at rest, its nose heavy with the unmistakable mouth of the GAU-8 cannon. The sight alone was enough to silence even the loudest skeptic.
The SEAL captain stood beside her now, his voice low, meant only for her. «You’ve got one shot at this. Make it count.»
She met his gaze, steady as ever. «I don’t miss.»
Behind them, the men who doubted her now stood watching, some with arms crossed, others shifting uneasily. The doubt hadn’t vanished, but it had transformed. It was no longer disbelief; it was anticipation. They wanted to see if she would prove them wrong. The engines of the A-10 loomed silent, waiting. And so did the room full of warriors whose lives now hung in the balance between doubt and trust.
The runway stretched out like a scar across the desert night. Faint floodlights lined its cracked edges, casting pale cones of light that barely reached the sand beyond. In the distance, the mountains loomed black and jagged, a reminder of the hostile terrain closing in on them. Somewhere out there, enemy fighters were regrouping, preparing to press their advantage.
The SEALs knew they were racing against time, but for this moment, all eyes were fixed on the hulking shadow at the far end of the strip. The A-10 Thunderbolt sat under a thin veil of camouflage netting, its body weathered, its paint chipped by sand and sun. Its engines were quiet, its cockpit dark, as if the beast were sleeping. To most, it looked like little more than an aging relic of another war. But to her, it was something else entirely. It was home.
As she walked toward it, the crunch of gravel under her boots sounded louder than the wind. Two SEALs flanked her silently, scanning the desert beyond the perimeter for threats. The captain followed several paces back, his eyes never leaving her. His men had doubts, but his mind was made up. If this woman could breathe life into that war machine, she would be the only thing standing between his team and annihilation.
The mechanics on base had done little more than keep the Hog in mothballs. Its maintenance was patchwork, its systems neglected. Most assumed it would never see combat again. But as she approached, she could already see the signs. The bird wasn’t dead. It was waiting.
She paused at the nose, her hand brushing lightly against the cannon protruding from the front. The GAU-8 Avenger. Seven barrels of steel that could tear through columns of tanks like paper. She remembered the first time she fired it in combat, the vibration shaking her bones, the deafening roar drowning out everything but purpose. Ground troops had cheered then, their lives saved by the storm she unleashed from above. The memory carried her now.
One of the younger SEALs, posted nearby with a rifle, raised a skeptical brow. «That thing doesn’t look like it’s flown in months.»
She didn’t bother to answer. She crouched low, pulling herself up the side ladder with practiced ease, her movements fluid and sure, as though she had done this a thousand times. In truth, she had. Muscle memory carried her, each motion deliberate and confident.
Inside the cockpit, the air was stale, thick with the scent of oil and dust. She settled into the seat, running her hands across the controls. To anyone else, it might have looked like an old, forgotten cockpit, a relic. To her, it was alive. Her fingertips danced across switches, levers, and dials like a pianist reacquainting herself with a long-lost instrument.
Below, the SEALs gathered, their shadows cast long across the tarmac. They watched her silhouette moving inside the canopy. Some crossed their arms. Some shook their heads. Others leaned forward, curious. The tension was palpable. This was the moment of truth.
The captain stepped closer to the nose of the plane, his voice calm but commanding. «How long?»
She didn’t look down. «Five minutes. Maybe less.»
«Five minutes we don’t have,» he muttered under his breath. But he didn’t stop her.
Inside the cockpit, she flipped the battery switch. The panel before her flickered, dim lights struggling to come alive. She frowned slightly, then tapped a gauge with her knuckle. The system hummed reluctantly, like a giant awakening from sleep. She moved quickly, testing hydraulics, power, and fuel levels. The A-10 groaned but responded. «Come on, girl,» she whispered softly. «Wake up.»
One by one, the systems lit. The HUD flickered green. The radios crackled with faint static. She reached for the throttle, setting the first engine to spool. Outside, the SEALs stiffened as the engine coughed violently, spitting smoke and dust into the air. It whined, faltered, then caught, the turbine spinning into a steady roar. A few SEALs exchanged glances, surprise breaking through their skepticism.
The second engine followed, coughing less this time, its roar blending with the first. The night air trembled with power. Inside the cockpit, she checked her displays, her eyes moving with speed and precision. Everything was functional enough. Not perfect, but in combat, nothing ever was.
On the ground, the captain folded his arms, his face unreadable. But his eyes betrayed the faintest shift. He was watching a professional at work, someone who didn’t need to prove herself with words. She was proving herself with action.
The canopy lowered with a hiss, sealing her inside. The base lights reflected faintly off the glass, her face barely visible but steady as stone. She slid the comms headset on, flicking to the frequency the SEALs used. «Control, this is Valkyrie. Systems green. Engines hot. Preparing for taxi.»
The SEAL nearest the captain nearly dropped his radio, staring up at the bird. He muttered, almost to himself, «She wasn’t lying.»
The captain allowed the ghost of a smirk to touch his lips. «No, she wasn’t.»
The Warthog rumbled forward, its wheels grinding against the cracked runway. The sound reverberated across the base, drawing soldiers and staff from the shadows to watch. They gathered at the edges of the strip, their disbelief slowly shifting into awe. For years, this aircraft had sat forgotten, a relic left to gather dust in the desert. Now, under the hands of one determined pilot, it was alive again.