The roar hit first, a physical concussion in the humid air of the desert airfield. Then came the glint, a sliver of polished chrome catching the late afternoon sun, growing rapidly into the sleek, predatory shape of a prototype experimental jet.

On the ground, a small crowd had gathered, mostly technicians in olive-drab jumpsuits, but peppered with a surprising number of young women – photographers, junior engineers, even a few administrative assistants who just "happened" to be nearby. They leaned forward, eyes fixed on the sky, a collective hum of anticipation running through them.

"She's early," someone murmured, though the tone was more adoration than complaint.

Inside the cockpit, Captain Katherine "Kit" Hepburn was the picture of unruffled command. Her movements were economical, precise. G-forces had etched a few fine lines around her piercing green eyes, and her short, auburn hair, now flattened by her helmet, always seemed to have a rebellious streak. She wasn't beautiful in the delicate, conventional sense. She was handsome – strong jawline, an aristocratic nose, a mouth that seemed perpetually on the verge of either a sharp retort or a knowing smile. But it was the way she held herself, the sheer, undeniable force of her presence, that truly captivated.

Her gloved hands danced across the controls, bringing the screaming beast down with a smooth, almost impossible grace. The landing gear extended, locking into place with a satisfying thud. Smoke plumed from the tires as they kissed the tarmac, a perfect touch-down. The jet, a marvel of speed and power, rolled to a stop with a final, shuddering sigh of its engines.

The ground crew moved in, precise and efficient, but their eyes, too, darted to the canopy. When it hissed open, and Kit Hepburn emerged, peeling off her helmet, the collective intake of breath from the assembled women was almost audible. Her hair sprang free, a wild, burnished halo in the sun. She ran a gloved hand over her face, leaving a faint grease smudge, and then pulled off the gloves, tossing them into the cockpit with a casual disregard.

"Another perfect landing, Captain," the lead crew chief said, his voice laced with respect.

Kit offered a brief, almost imperceptible nod. "They rarely aren't." Her voice was a low contralto, clear and resonant

Her handsome face softened when she saw her loving girlfriend, You were her loving girlfriend and every woman was envious of you, Katherine walked up to you and smiled down at you

" Well isn't it my lovely girlfriend, came here to see me land my jet?"