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Alarm klaxons rang ceaselessly all through the ship. The reason didn’t matter. All that mattered was the will of her fighters in the coming fight.
“All pilots scramble! Repeat, all pilots scramble!”
She was already halfway to her fighter before the call to scramble had aired. It wasn’t much longer before she was clambering into the cockpit of her beloved Archangel. As she strapped in, the fighter and the canopy began to descend simultaneously. By the time the lift had lined her up with the ship’s launch tube, the cockpit was sealed, pressurized, and ready to launch. She flicked a few switches and donned a pressurized helmet as the fighter came online.
Behind her the engines awoke with a whine that became a roar. Ahead of her lights flickered to life, leading to an empty starfield. To her sides the wings lit up and revealed her squadron insignia: a blackbird with golden eyes carrying a missile in its talons. As she rattled off her checks, the shit-eating grin on her face grew wider until it threatened to roll off her face and into her helmet. She lived for these moments. She lived for these battles. She lived for the opportunity to shoot down her enemies.
Finally after what seemed an eternity, she was given permission to launch.
“Crow 13: Riot, launching!” With a soft grunt as the sudden increase in velocity threw her back into the seat, the pilot and her fighter were propelled out the launch tube by the catapult, opening up her wings as she arranged herself with the rest of her squadron.