Aria was in love within eighteen seconds.
"Absolutely not."
Athena did not even look up from the tactical display as the fighter bay doors opened.
Aria stepped into Hangar Two and stopped dead.
Rows of matte-black strike fighters rested beneath low industrial lighting while maintenance drones moved quietly between them. Magnetic support arms held several craft partially disassembled in suspended service cradles while fuel lines and diagnostic cables snaked across the deck with organized precision.
The fighters looked wrong.
Not ugly.
Wrong in the way apex predators looked wrong.
Too lean.
Too armored.
Too integrated.
No exposed engine clutter.
No unnecessary protrusions.
No decorative military nonsense.
Every line served a purpose.
Aria whispered reverently:
"Oh, those are violence."
Nessa stared silently beside her.
Even she looked impressed.
The nearest fighter sat low and angular beneath maintenance illumination, cockpit canopy open while a pair of android technicians worked along the exposed internal systems.
The hull carried the same design philosophy as the Steady Hand itself:
- redundancy,
- survivability,
- layered protection,
- integrated systems,
- and terrifying restraint.
Aria approached slowly.
Like someone nearing a dangerous animal she very much wanted to pet.
"Athena," she said carefully, "what the hell is this?"
"Asharii Mark Five multirole strike fighter."
"Multirole," Aria repeated softly. "That word is doing horrifying amounts of work."
Athena finally smiled.
"Yes."
Nessa circled the nearest fighter slowly.
Her eyes moved over:
- thruster placement,
- armor shaping,
- weapons geometry,
- heat dissipation channels,
- and shield projector integration.
Then she stopped.
"No external missile load."
Athena looked pleased.
"Internalized rotary modular launch systems."
Nessa looked toward her sharply.
Aria immediately pointed at Nessa. "See? That tone means you just said something terrifying."
"Yes," Athena agreed.
Aria crouched beside one wing root.
"Those maneuvering surfaces can't be atmospheric."
"They are not primarily atmospheric."
"So vacuum dominance."
"Yes."
"How fast?"
Athena tilted her head slightly.
"In atmosphere or combat engagement?"
Aria stared at her.
Nessa closed her eyes briefly.
"That answer is deeply concerning," the elf muttered.
Athena continued pleasantly. "The Asharii platform was designed around survivability first."
Aria looked up immediately.
"Not maneuverability?"
"Survivability creates maneuverability."
Jack entered the hangar quietly enough that neither pilot noticed him immediately.
He watched them examining the fighters with restrained amusement.
Aria was already halfway inside the nearest maintenance perimeter while Nessa inspected one of the open weapons bays with increasingly focused attention.
Athena noticed him first.
"Father."
Both women turned.
Aria pointed at the fighter immediately.
"You have not told me this existed."
"You didn't ask specifically about fighters."
"That is a war crime."
Jack ignored that.
Nessa straightened slightly. "These are carrier-grade strike craft."
"Yes."
"How many?"
Jack's pause answered before he spoke.
Aria's eyes widened.
"Oh no."
Nessa looked toward him carefully now.
"A vessel this size carrying fighters is normal," she said slowly. "A vessel this size carrying fighters this advanced is not."
Jack nodded once.
"The Asharii platforms were designed for independent operations."
Aria barked a laugh. "Everything on this ship is designed for independent operations."
"Yes."
That answer was becoming mildly infuriating.
Aria loved it.
One of the android technicians stepped down from the fighter cradle and moved toward Jack.
Unlike Security Unit Three, this android wore engineering gear:
- dark utility coveralls,
- tool harness,
- maintenance gloves.
Still no insignia.
Still no decorative identity markers.
The android handed Jack a datapad.
"Strike craft diagnostics complete," it stated calmly. "All launch groups operational."
"Thank you," Jack said.
The android inclined its head once and returned to work.
Aria watched the interaction carefully.
Not because it looked artificial.
Because it didn't.
The ship functioned with eerie smoothness despite containing only one biological crew member.
That realization still had not settled properly in her head.
Nessa stepped around the fighter's nose section.
"Gold-ranked interceptors would struggle against these."
"Yes," Jack said.
Aria looked offended.
"Hey."
Jack glanced toward her. "You would struggle less."
"That's better."
Athena projected a tactical display above the fighter.
The hologram rotated slowly while weapon systems highlighted one after another.
Aria's expression shifted from excitement to professional concentration almost instantly.
That was the pilot again.
"Dual magnetic autocannons…"
"Correct."
"Integrated shield architecture…"
"Yes."
"Wait."
She zoomed further.
"Is that point-defense?"
"Yes."
Aria looked horrified.
"You put point-defense on fighters?"
Athena's smile sharpened faintly.
"Yes."
Nessa stared at the projection.
"That's absurd."
Athena looked pleased with herself.
"Yes."
Jack folded his arms loosely.
"The Asharii platform was built around one operational principle."
Aria looked toward him.
"Which is?"
"Pilots are difficult to replace."
The hangar quieted slightly.
Not because the statement sounded dramatic.
Because it sounded honest.
Nessa looked back toward the fighter.
Armor overlap.
Redundant maneuvering.
Internalized systems.
Point-defense.
Shield layering.
Not aggression-first design.
Survival-first.
That changed the entire philosophy.
Aria climbed onto the wing root despite the maintenance drone visibly recalculating around her existence.
"I want to fly it."
"No."
Aria blinked.
"What?"
"You are not certified."
"That sounds temporary."
"It is."
Nessa looked between them.
"You're considering it."
Jack's expression remained calm.
"Yes."
Aria grinned triumphantly.
Nessa pinched the bridge of her nose.
Athena projected another display into the air.
Pilot compatibility evaluations.
Aria leaned closer eagerly.
"Wait, you already scanned us?"
"You walked through the docking spine," Athena said. "Of course I scanned you."
"That's invasive."
"Yes."
Aria thought about it.
"…fair."
Nessa sighed quietly.
Athena highlighted Aria's profile first.
"Your combat instincts are concerning."
"Thank you."
"That was not praise."
"Still counts."
Athena shifted to Nessa.
"Your discipline metrics are significantly better."
"Thank you."
"That was praise."
Aria looked betrayed.
Jack stepped closer to the nearest fighter.
Even standing beside it, the Asharii looked compact compared to the Steady Hand.
That illusion vanished the moment someone remembered the carrier itself was nearly a kilometer long.
Everything aboard the vessel distorted scale perception.
"Simulation certification first," Jack said.
Aria pointed at him immediately. "So that's a yes."
"It's a conditional yes."
"That is still a yes."
Nessa studied the fighter canopy carefully.
"Why show us this?"
Jack answered simply.
"Because if you're going to work aboard this ship, you should understand what it is."
Aria looked around the massive hangar again.
The suspended fighters.
The quiet android crews.
The layered armor doors.
The restrained industrial lighting.
The silent feeling of stored violence.
Then she looked back toward Jack.
"You know everyone on Vandar thinks you're either insane or terrifying."
"Yes."
"Which one's correct?"
Jack considered that.
Athena answered first.
"Yes."
Aria laughed hard enough that one of the maintenance drones visibly paused in confusion.
Even Nessa failed to fully suppress her smile this time.
And somewhere high above them, buried beneath kilometers of armored structure and redundant systems, the Steady Hand continued quietly preparing itself for a frontier that still had no idea what had just arrived in its territory.