Me?
Gods help her. I was not perfect, not in any way.
“Squadron 168 will arrive from Battlegroup Brekk in three hours,” Captain Onar spoke. He’d been with me for years, former leader of the protection team at Transport Station Zenith. He was fierce and organized, his bronze hair and skin broken only by bright golden eyes. He held a tablet and was swiping across it as he spoke. “The fighter wing from the Zakar will arrive seventy minutes after that. We’ll have five hundred fighters in the bay in the next twenty-seven hours, in addition to the three battleships coming from Prillon Prime.”
“How long until most of the fighter reinforcements have arrived?” I asked. The battleships were huge, with their own contingent of fighters. They would be at least a day behind the smaller, faster fighte
