The

  streets of Arcturus Base glowed with neon light as Pilgrim and

  Valkyrie moved leisurely through the crowd. It was late, and the sky

  above them was obscured by the dome of the base, but the artificial

  lights of the city made the surroundings seem alive. Val led the way,

  her steps springy, while Pilgrim took a moment longer to settle into

  the evening's lightheartedness.

  "So,

  you still maintain that heavy fighters are the measure of all

  things?" Val asked jokingly as they passed a shop sign with a

  flickering holo display.

  "Definitely,"

  Pilgrim replied, nodding resolutely. "The E7A Eagle is the

  backbone of our fleet for a reason. It has firepower, armor, and

  enough endurance for long battles. A single ship that can easily take

  out a swarm of Ka'Zal fighters."

  Val

  snorted amusedly and pulled her jacket collar up to protect herself

  from the cool wind. "Maybe so, but that's exactly the point. You

  have a ship that can fight alone, while the Ka'Zak rely on swarm

  attacks. Light, fast fighters like the Fang or the Razor—they come

  in droves, and before you know it, they've surrounded you."

  "They

  can surround you, sure, but they also drop like flies as soon as you

  hit them," Pilgrim replied. "I'd rather fly something heavy

  that can take a hit than rely on always being faster."

  Val

  grinned. "Yeah, the armor's not bad, but the Eagle lags a little

  behind in terms of maneuverability. Take the Raider from Orion

  Dynamics. It may be less durable, but it's fast, agile, and has

  impressive firepower. In the

  right

  hands, you can take out an entire squadron before they know what hit

  them."

  "If

  you don't get shot down first," Pilgrim interjected. "With

  so little defense, you're risking too much."

  "That's

  the point!" Val laughed softly. "That's the thrill of it.

  It reminds me of the Ka'Zal fighter design. Barely any shields, but

  brutally fast and with weapons always pointed forward.

  You

  just can't let yourself get on the defensive."

  Pilgrim

  shook his head, a smile spreading across his face. "That might

  be fine for daring pilots like you. But I prefer to stick with a ship

  that gets me home safely, even when things get dicey."

  "I

  agree with you for once," Val admitted. "The E7A is a

  beast. But as much as I like heavy fighters, I prefer the flexibility

  of lighter models. More room to maneuver."

  "Well,

  everyone has their own style," Pilgrim said diplomatically,

  eyeing Val out of the corner of his eye. "But at the end of the

  day, it's the kills that count, right?"

  Val

  shrugged as they approached the bar, which stood out from the other

  establishments amid the bright lights. "True. And as long as I

  have more, it doesn't matter how big the ship is."

  Pilgrim

  pauses briefly in front of the bar entrance, his gaze lingering on

  the sign that identifies the bar as a place for Marines. He

  hesitates, one hand on his hip, as he slows his pace. "Um...

  Val, I'm not sure this is such a good idea."

  Valkyrie

  turns to him, her eyebrows slightly raised, but with an amused smile

  on her lips. "Why is that? Are you afraid of a few marines?"

  Her voice sounds almost teasing as she points her thumb at the sign

  behind her.

  "No,

  it's just..." Pilgrim looks around. "You know how it is.

  The

  Marines

  and the Navy have their... differences. I'm sure you've heard about

  the traditional rivalry."

  Val

  laughs softly and shakes her head. "Sure, it exists, but don't

  worry. I've always gotten along well with Marines. Besides, they

  respect me. After all, I used to be one of them – even if it was

  only for a relatively short time."

  Pilgrim

  looks at her skeptically. "And yet? They're pretty... uh, let's

  say, proud of their own corps. Why would they respect an ex-Marine?"

  Val

  crosses her arms and leans slightly toward him, her eyes sparkling.

  "Because they know how I fly. Marines respect talent—and the

  fact that I have a reputation that most of them know about. Besides,

  they like it when someone shows a hint of disrespect and

  indiscipline."

  "Disrespect?"

  Pilgrim blinks in surprise. "How does that fit together? They're

  known for their discipline when on duty. I thought they would hate

  any kind of insubordination."

  Valkyrie

  thinks for a moment, as if weighing her words carefully. "On

  duty, yes. Everything is strictly regulated, every step is precise,

  and the pressure is high. But off duty? That's when they let out all

  their pent-up frustration. It's almost as if the discipline on duty

  needs an outlet to release the pressure."

  "I

  see." Pilgrim nods slowly, but the doubt remains in his eyes.

  "That sounds... understandable."

  Val

  laughs briefly and gives him a light pat on the shoulder.

  "Absolutely.

  They even say you're not a real Marine until you've spent at least

  two weeks in the brig per year of service." Her broad grin shows

  that she may be half-joking, but at the same time, there's a bit of

  truth in it.

  Pilgrim

  shakes his head and laughs. "That explains a lot. All right,

  I'll trust you. You're the one with the Marine background here."

  "Exactly."

  Val winks at him and opens the door to the bar, where noise and dim

  lights greet them. "Come on, Commander. The drinks are waiting."

  * * *

  When

  Pilgrim and Valkyrie enter the bar, the frosty silence of the Marines

  present falls like a heavy curtain over the room. The air seems to

  crackle as the Marines' eyes fall on their Navy uniforms. Pilgrim

  could almost physically feel the hostile tension, and a quick glance

  at Valkyrie shows him that she was equally aware of it. But before he

  can say anything, a thunderous voice echoes through the bar.

  "Romanov!"

  A

  large, burly Marine with the rank insignia of a Master Gunnery

  Sergeant rose from one of the back tables. The man had the stature of

  a bear, with a scar running across his left cheek. Without

  hesitation, he marched toward Valkyrie, a broad grin on his face. The

  tension in the room visibly began to crumble as the giant gave

  Valkyrie a warm hug.

  "Gunny

  Thomas!" Valkyrie returns the greeting just as warmly, and the

  rest of the Marines in the bar begin to murmur.

  "Folks,

  this is Valeria Romanov!" Thomas calls out, turning to the

  assembled crowd. A murmur ripples through the ranks, followed by

  scattered laughter and finally loud cheers. The frosty atmosphere

  evaporates in an instant. Valkyrie's name triggers a wave of

  enthusiasm among the Marines that Pilgrim can't quite comprehend.

  He

  looks at Valkyrie, who just shrugs her shoulders and gives a crooked

  smile. "I used to be one of them," she explains quietly

  before falling into a deeper conversation with Thomas.

  Pilgrim

  is surprised when Thomas provides the explanation: "Romanov

  was

  already a legend with us in basic training! She did things no one

  thought possible." Thomas laughs thunderously.

  "She

  had to go to the brig almost every other week back then, but that

  only earned her more respect. And that's why, kid," he winks at

  Valkyrie, "you don't have to pay for your drinks in any Marine

  bar, even though you're a pilot now. Neither do your friends, for

  that matter!" He pats Pilgrim on the shoulder in a comradely

  manner, almost as if he were a Marine himself.

  "Come

  on, come over here! To my table!" Thomas calls out, pointing to

  a group of Marines who are already making room for them. The group

  consists of several Marines, both men and women, who greet Valkyrie

  with enthusiastic looks.

  Pilgrim

  slowly sinks into a chair, still slightly surprised by the turn of

  events, while Valkyrie leans back, relaxed, and adjusts to the casual

  atmosphere.

  Pilgrim

  visibly relaxes as the initially tense atmosphere in the bar gives

  way to a relaxed camaraderie. The Marines begin to share their

  stories and anecdotes from their time in service, and it quickly

  becomes clear that this group has been through a lot. Laughter and

  nods of agreement pass from table to table as Pilgrim feels the

  energy of the Marines. It is a familiar, rough, yet warm environment

  in which they all immediately feel welcome.

  "You

  know Romanov here," Gunnery Sergeant Thomas begins with a broad

  grin, "she made her superiors' lives hell even in basic

  training." He takes a big gulp from his glass before continuing.

  "The instructors thought they had seen it all, but then Val came

  along. I remember how she threw her whole platoon out of bed at

  midnight just because the sergeant had slept too long."

  A

  loud laugh of approval breaks out, and Valkyrie leans back with a

  grin. "Well, you did say we should keep ourselves busy

  if

  you didn't show up," she says innocently, prompting more

  laughter.

  "But

  that was nothing," Thomas continues. "The best prank was

  when she stole the instructor's entire ration box during a training

  exercise and then hid the stuff all over the base. It took us three

  days to find everything! That was the first time I was really angry."

  The

  Marines around the table laugh and shake their heads.

  "But

  she was damn good, you have to give her that," Thomas adds

  seriously. "No one could shoot like her."

  The

  conversation gradually shifts as Thomas moves on to a more serious

  story. "And then there was that thing with the Drifter when we

  were stuck deep in pirate territory." The other Marines lean

  forward curiously as Thomas lowers his voice.

  "We

  were on a tough mission, deep behind enemy lines. The pilot got hit,

  and I was lying there half dead and useless, with shrapnel in my

  stomach. I thought that was it. But Ro-manov here..." He gives

  Valkyrie an appreciative look. "She grabs the controls without

  hesitation and flies the badly damaged craft out of the danger zone.

  The pirates were chasing us like crazy, but she got us out of there.

  No idea how she did it."

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  "There

  was a bit of luck involved," Valkyrie replies modestly, but

  Thomas won't accept that.

  "Luck?"

  Thomas laughs. "That was skill, damn it! I wouldn't be sitting

  here now if you hadn't taken the controls."

  The

  other Marines nod seriously, and one of the women says,

  "We've

  all heard about that story. You're really good, Val."

  Pilgrim

  looks at Valkyrie, who seems slightly embarrassed by all the praise.

  It was obvious that she had not only made a name for herself here

  with the Marines, but had also earned their deep respect. The

  recognition

  and respect she received from the tough soldiers around her was

  something that impressed Pilgrim—a side of Valkyrie he had only

  guessed at before.

  The

  conversations continue, and the Marines include Valkyrie and even

  Pilgrim in their stories and tales. The mood is exuberant, the

  laughter contagious. It turned into one of those evenings you won't

  soon forget—a moment of peace and camaraderie in the midst of a

  life often dominated by war.

  Pilgrim

  sat quietly amid the boisterous atmosphere of the Marines' bar, the

  crude jokes and loud anecdotes bouncing off him. Although the Marines

  welcomed him warmly, he still felt like an outsider. Valkyrie,

  noticing the dynamic, looked him over briefly and placed a hand on

  his arm. "Let's get out of here," she whispered, nodding

  toward the exit.

  * * *

  As

  they said goodbye, left the bar, and stepped out into the cooler,

  neon-lit streets, Pilgrim breathed a sigh of relief. "You

  noticed that, right?" he asked. Valkyrie grinned and shrugged.

  "Hard to miss. Marines are just... special. You just have to

  give them time."

  They

  walked slowly along the streets, past busy shops and small groups of

  people, as the city slipped into the late night. "So? What are

  your plans for the future?" Pilgrim asked thoughtfully, his

  hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

  "I

  think I might join a militia. We'll see. It would be a way to keep

  flying and do something meaningful at the same time," Valeria

  said, letting her gaze wander over the lights. "But honestly...

  I'm not sure. My time in the military shaped me, but I don't want to

  have to fight forever."

  Pilgrim

  nodded understandingly. "I'm thinking about buying a bigger ship

  and making a living as a freelancer. I've always wanted to do that,

  but..." He paused briefly and looked into the distance. "It's

  time to make that dream come true."

  Valeria

  gave him a curious look. "Freelancer, huh?

  Do

  you need a co-pilot?” she asked spontaneously with a mischievous

  grin. Pilgrim stopped and looked at her for a moment. He thought

  about how things could change.

  "That

  could work," he said after a moment's thought. "I could use

  a good co-pilot. And someone who... brings something unpredictable to

  the table."

  Valeria

  laughed softly and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Well,

  let's drink to that."

  They

  reached a quieter bar that wasn't as crowded as the last one. The

  noise level was pleasantly subdued, and the atmosphere was conducive

  to longer conversations. They ordered two Shwartz beers at the bar

  before retreating to a booth. Pilgrim took a deep sip and leaned

  back, while Valeria looked at him challengingly.

  "So...

  how big should the ship be?" she asked with a wink.

  Pilgrim

  looks at Valeria searchingly and asks with a slight grin, "Okay,

  let's see what you recommend. If we're serious about this freelancer

  thing, what kind of ship would you suggest?"

  Valeria

  leaned back in her seat and thought for a moment before replying with

  shining eyes, "I love the Hermes. Nimbus did a really good job

  with it, lots of space, fast and agile, and the technology... it just

  lacks a little firepower. But if we want something a little more

  classy, how about the 654 Indra from ESI?"

  At

  the mention of Eccentric Aerospace, Pilgrim immediately raises his

  eyebrows

  eyebrows

  and makes a dismissive gesture. "The Indra? You're joking,

  right? That sterile, soulless design... No, thanks. It gives me

  nightmares."

  Valeria

  laughs at his exaggerated reaction, but before she can counter,

  Pilgrim suggests something that immediately makes her eyes light up:

  "How about a Vanguard? That would be more our style."

  Valeria

  almost jumps out of her seat and becomes noticeably more

  enthusiastic.

  "Now

  we're talking! The Vanguard is awesome. That front armament—six

  thick cannons pointing straight ahead, made for aggressive action.

  And the interior! Big enough for everything we need. But..." she

  raises an eyebrow, "those asymmetrical wings? What were they

  thinking? I mean, it's not practical."

  Pilgrim

  grins and takes a sip of his beer. "I agree with you. I never

  understood why they did that either. Maybe just to look different?"

  "Probably,"

  Valeria replies and begins to discuss the pros and cons of the

  Vanguard in detail. The two dive deeper and deeper into the

  conversation, talking shop about weapon load, maneuverability, and

  possible improvements to the ship. The evening takes its course in

  this cozy bar as the two make plans that may become more than just

  ideas in the future.

  Valeria

  leaned back in her chair and looked at Pilgrim with interest. "So,

  what would you name the ship?" she asked, taking a sip of her

  Shwartz beer.

  Pilgrim

  paused. The question seemed to surprise him and took him back to a

  time long past. He blinked, and suddenly he was back in a small, dark

  room, tightly embraced by his lover Firefox, both laughing and

  relaxed.

  They

  had been deep in conversation about the future and the ship they

  wanted to fly together one day. Pilgrim grinned slightly as

  he

  remembered how they had started talking about the name of their ship.

  "Discovery?"

  he suggested.

  Firefox

  raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Too generic," she replied

  dryly. "I have a feeling there are already a hundred ships with

  that name."

  "Okay,

  how about Voyager?" Pilgrim tried again. Firefox shook her head,

  giggling. "Even more generic."

  Pilgrim

  pretended to think hard before replying with a mischievous smile,

  "Mighty Duck or Mama Bird?"

  Firefox

  laughed out loud when she realized he was just joking.

  "Mama

  Bird, yes, of course! That sounds like a ship that would really scare

  off all enemies!"

  "So

  you agree?" teased Pilgrim.

  "Of

  course not!" she replied, still smiling, before leaning back

  seriously. "But if you really want to know, I would name our

  ship 'Chieftain'."

  The

  name echoed in Pilgrim's mind as he returned to reality, Valeria

  standing opposite him. She looked at him intently, waiting patiently

  for an answer.

  The

  flashback faded, and Pilgrim smiled quietly to himself.

  "Chieftain,"

  he murmured softly, more to himself than to Valeria.

  "Chieftain?"

  Valeria asked, raising an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Interesting

  choice. Does it have a special meaning for you?"

  Pilgrim

  looked at her, his smile remaining, but his eyes had a hint of

  melancholy. "Yes, you could say that," he replied

  evasively, hiding the pain of the memory. "It's... a name I'll

  never forget."

  As

  Pilgrim becomes quieter and sinks into thought, Valeria also feels a

  pensive mood come over her. The exuberant atmosphere

  of

  the evening gives way to a heaviness she cannot ignore. She puts her

  beer aside, looks at Pilgrim seriously, and asks quietly,

  "Do

  you think this could really work? Our partnership, I mean. We hardly

  know each other."

  Pilgrim

  lifts his head and returns her gaze, somewhat surprised by the sudden

  turn in the conversation. "I don't know," he admits

  honestly, leaning back slightly. "But I think it's worth a try.

  Sometimes you don't know what might work until you try it, and

  besides, I have a good feeling about it."

  Valeria

  nods, as if she had already considered this idea herself before

  asking the question. "Yes, I feel the same way," she

  murmurs, placing a hand on the table. "And... I have something

  that might be a first step in the right direction."

  Pilgrim

  raises an eyebrow, eager to hear what she has to say next. Valeria

  leans forward and continues, "The Navy offered me an Eagle as

  severance pay. It's a great fighter, but honestly... with a Vanguard,

  we don't need it. Not for what we're planning." She pauses, her

  eyes flashing briefly as she speaks the next sentence. "I could

  take the equivalent value of the Eagle as money, as a down payment

  for our partnership. It would also be about half the value of a

  Vanguard."

  Pilgrim

  tilts his head slightly to one side as he thinks. He looks at

  Valeria, impressed by her determination and willingness to take a

  risk. "You'd give up a heavy fighter?"

  Valeria

  smiles crookedly. "I don't need a lone wolf ship anymore when I

  can be part of something bigger. Something with more potential. And

  honestly, the Eagle is great, I won't deny that... but I have a

  feeling that the Vanguard could simply take us further."

  Pilgrim

  nods slowly. "That's a bold move, Valkyrie." His gaze

  softens as he looks at her. "I think you're right. It

  this

  is the beginning of something big."

  Pilgrim

  takes a sip of his beer, leans back, and calmly explains, "I

  plan to leave for the Aetheris system tomorrow. That's where Orion

  Dynamics is located, and I'm going to buy a Vanguard directly from

  the manufacturer."

  Valeria

  raises an eyebrow and looks at him curiously. "Aetheris?

  That

  sounds like a long flight. How do you plan to get there?"

  With

  a small grin, he continues: "I also received an E7C Eagle as

  severance pay. I'll use that for the trip."

  Valeria

  grinned broadly. "Then I guess we don't need to worry about

  financing anymore?"

  Pilgrim

  grinned back. "Looks like it! Two Eagles on their way to

  Aetheris. That should open a few doors for us."

  Valeria

  jumps up and playfully slaps him on the shoulder. "That's

  amazing! You know I owe you a drink for offering me the partnership,

  right?"

  "I

  won't let that slip by," Pilgrim replied with a grin as Valeria

  went to the bar to get two more drinks.

  She

  returns with two glasses, sits back down, and hands him one. "To

  the partnership," she says with a broad smile, and their glasses

  clink as they toast. "And to the Chieftain waiting for us!"

  * * *

  Pilgrim

  and Valkyrie raise their glasses to toast their new partnership. The

  bar they have chosen is cozy, lit by dim lights and occupied by only

  a few guests. It is the perfect place to sit back and exchange

  stories. With each drink, their tongues loosen and the bar fills with

  the soft sound of their voices and occasional laughter.

  Valeria

  begins and talks about her time in the Navy—but especially about

  her short but intense time with the Marines. With a broad grin, she

  describes how she drove her superiors crazy during basic training. "I

  had a kind of unshakeable exuberance," she admits with a laugh.

  "The Marines love discipline, but they also love it when someone

  breaks the rules – at least once in a while. I usually managed to

  strike that balance pretty well."

  "Here's

  to the Marines!" said Pilgrim, "may they preserve their

  strange relationship with discipline for all time!" They clinked

  glasses and laughed.

  The

  evening progresses, and Pilgrim begins to share his own stories –

  of dangerous missions in deep space, heated battles against the

  Ka'Zal, and moments when he was sure he wouldn't make it out alive.

  "There's something about these battles," he muses as he

  takes a sip from his glass. "That adrenaline... and then the

  absolute feeling of emptiness afterward, when the fight is over. It's

  as if everything inside you is sucked into a black hole."

  Valeria

  nods understandingly, her eyes briefly lost in space as she takes a

  sip of her beer. "I know that feeling," she murmurs.

  "Sometimes it feels like you're more alive than ever during the

  fight, and as soon as it's over, there's nothing left but silence."

  "Here's

  to that, Shwartz!"

  Her

  mood brightens again, and she begins to recount one of her most

  memorable missions: the test flight of a captured Ka'Zal fighter that

  almost turned into a disaster.

  "These

  things fly like the devil, but they don't forgive mistakes. One wrong

  move on the controls, and suddenly you see the whole galaxy spinning

  from the cockpit," she laughs as she vividly describes how she

  nevertheless managed to regain control of the fighter, much to the

  shock of her superiors.

  Pilgrim

  taps the table. "I think I would have opted for the escape pod.

  Ka'Zal ships – not for me."

  "Oh,

  I love them," Valeria replies with a wink. "They're

  dangerous and wild. No frills, no mercy."

  "You

  could say that," Pilgrim mutters, leaning back as he thinks of

  his E7A Eagle, a ship that embodies the exact opposite of these

  reckless spacecraft: sturdy, well-designed, safe. "I need

  something that will keep me in the game longer. Like the Eagle. And

  soon, the Vanguard."

  "Oh

  yes, the Vanguard," Valeria says, flashing him a mischievous

  smile.

  "I

  can't wait to see it fly. And to fly it." She raises her glass

  again. "To the Vanguard—and to us!"

  The

  night grows longer and the conversations deeper. Valeria talks about

  the missions she flew with her old squadron, the many training

  maneuvers, but also the secret missions she is only allowed to talk

  about in fragments. "Sometimes," she says with a quiet

  sigh, "I wonder if I'll ever find my way back to civilian life.

  We've seen so much, done so much... it changes us."

  Pilgrim

  nods, he can understand that. "Sometimes it feels like we'll

  always be a part of it. Even if we lose ourselves out there, in

  civilian life. War doesn't leave us so easily."

  "Yes...

  you may get the soldier out of the war, but you'll never get the war

  out of the soldier."

  There

  is a moment of silence between them, a silence that is not

  uncomfortable, but full of understanding. The deep marks their

  service has left on them are clearly visible, but in this moment they

  are more than comrades—they are partners who can support each

  other.

  "But

  you know," Valeria finally says, her eyes sparkling, "I

  have a feeling that we both have a damn good path ahead of us. With

  you as my partner, it could really work."

  "I

  feel the same way," Pilgrim agrees, raising his glass again. "To

  what lies ahead. Whatever it may be."

  They

  clink glasses, and the glasses ring softly in the otherwise quiet

  room. They sit in the bar for a long time, letting time pass in

  conversation, laughing, joking, and sharing their dreams until the

  first signs of morning appear on the horizon outside. It is the

  beginning of a new friendship—and hopefully a successful

  partnership.