1. Chapter One
Declaimer: I don't own Star gate or Buffy the vampire slayer. They are both owned by their respective companies.
I am an American Airman.
I am a Warrior.
I have answered my Nation’s call.
I am an American Airman.
My mission is to Fly, Fight, and Win.
I am faithful to a Proud Heritage,
A Tradition of Honor,
And a Legacy of Valor.
I am an American Airman.
Guardian of Freedom and Justice,
My Nation’s Sword and Shield,
Its Sentry and Avenger.
I defend my Country with my Life.
I am an American Airman.
Wingman, Leader, Warrior.
I will never leave an Airman behind,
I will never falter,
And I will not fail.
--United States Air Force
Revised as of: Nov,9
August 3, 1981
He was a military man. Plain and simple. His father, his father's father and his father's grandfather were military men. The military had been in their family for generations.
The family can boast of having fought in every major United States war since the American Revolution.
But, for him, the family line had ended. He had no wife and no children. The only woman he had ever loved, besides his mother, had passed away when he was stationed overseas.
The irony was not lost on him. There he was, in a war zone where he faced bombs, bullets and horrid food and it was she, safe and sound in the States, who had left him all alone.
Illness, the doctors said, wasted away her once healthy body. His wife never told him she was sick. She most likely had not wanted him to worry about her. After all, a distracted soldier had a great possibility of becoming a dead soldier.
The only comfort he took was that she didn't feel a thing as she died in obliviously in her sleep.
He continued to serve in the army until a head injury took him out several years later.
A bomb had exploded from under his truck while he was driving medical supplies to and from field hospitals. Doctors said another serious blow to the head his could possibly kill him so, he was sent home. To say he wasn't thrilled was an understatement.
When he came home to California, he decided to transfer over. Sheppard Air Force Base became his new home where he spent most of his time barking at the younger men and molding them into warriors fit for battle. Seeing his charges come and go, however, wore on him deeply.
When his contract came up for renewal, he decided to allow the younger generation to take his place, ones who could answer the call of duty without of limitations. He walked out of the base with the garrison's salute and approval. Head held high and his weathered boots on the pavement, he left to start living a civilian's life.
Purchasing forty acres of land in the northern portion of Texas with money he'd accumulated over the years, he built a small, white house with a barn attached to it and a small forge so he could continue his childhood hobby of smithing.
After a few years, he started up a small farm on the western part of the land. He hired several workers, allowing them to bring families with them, to tend to the crops while he made a variety of high quality items such as daggers and swords in his forge.
He lived a fairly peaceful and comfortable life in his little niche of the world but it didn't completely erase the loneliness he had felt ever since his wife's passing. The golden waves of grain, green pastures filled with horses colored by an artist's palette and the small ponds littering the property served only as a small distraction against the empty void that was his heart.
Then came the day when his niece came to live with him and also found out that his younger brother along with his sister-in-law died in a car accident.
A young girl, no more than 9 years old, stared at him with haunted, old eyes. He asked the social worker why his niece had such old eyes and his response shook him to core.
The middle-aged social worker told him that his young niece had been in the car accident with her parents. Somehow, she managed to escape from the twisted mangled mess of the blue Sedan. She stood on the side of the road, screaming at people watching to get her mommy and daddy out of the car. Nobody moved. They already knew that there was no possible way to reach the couple. The car had caught on fire and spread to the interior of the car. A young man standing behind her, watching, covered her eyes and ears as her parents screams of pain filled the air. He lifted her up and carried her away from the horrifying scene. The man took his niece in for a time because of difficulties in locating him.
Mark couldn't believe it. Such a little girl shouldn't have been exposed to a scene like that. Such horror should never have happened especially a child as young as her.
Not long after his arrival, the social worker left. He watched as his small niece wander about in his small, cramped home. She looked at the various pictures most of which were taken during his years in the service.
She stopped at one particular photo. Mark knew that photo very well.
It was him in his fatigues, M-21 slung over his shoulder. Around him, soldiers sat in clusters as fighters took off in the background. There was nothing of significance that she would know about in that photo. After all, how was she to know that was the last photo he had taken before the bomb took him out of the battlefield.
He had no knowledge on how to handle children, let alone one with her experience. Damaged. Traumatized.
"You were a soldier?" she ask, her soft voice clearly heard across the deathly quiet room.
"Yeah." he replied. He knew it would be pointless to deny. Evidence was everywhere. All you had to do was look around the room.
"So, what rank were you?" she asked curiously. Her voice was calm, devoid of all other emotion. This isn't how normal traumatized people acted so close to such a horrifying event.
"I was a Colonel in the U.S. Army." he said keeping his answer short.
"What made you retire?" She asked as she twisted he blond covered head to glance at his direction.
That question caught him off guard. "Why do you ask that?"
"Something made you. You don't seem like the kind of person to just give up fighting without a good reason." Turning her whole body toward him, she shrugged her small shoulders.
He raised an eyebrow questionably.
"So, are you going to tell me or simply stand there?."
'Dang,' he thought impressed, 'This girl is something else, that's for sure.'
"I'll make you a deal. If you tell me why you are asking me these questions, then I'll tell you. Deal?"
She frowned. "Fine, I guess. Well, since you probably learned lots of things in the military, I want you to teach me those things. I want to get stronger. Get better. Even though I'm blond, it doesn't mean that I'm stupid. I know what happened to Mommy and Daddy wasn't my fault. But still, I can't help but think that if I would have been a little faster, I could've gotten someone to help them out of the car before the fire spread." she finished with tears gathering on the corners of her emerald eyes.
Mark was silent. He could hear the guilt in her voice, the self-loathing he had experienced many times himself every single time he lost a man in combat. He decided not to comment after all he had a promise to complete.
"It happened about 9 years ago. The Vietnam War was winding down. My regiment was one of the last ones out of the country. I was driving my truck, transporting medical supplies to and from the temporary hospitals that had been built just about everywhere in that jungle. In minute, I was drivin' and minding my own business when a bomb in the munitions truck in front of me went off. I had to be airlifted from the jungles to medical ship on the coast. When I got back to the States, the doctors here told me that I couldn't be sent out on active duty overseas because of the head injury I received. After that, I tried wrap my head around the fact that if my men were to be sent into battle, I wouldn't be able to follow. So, two years later, when my contract came up for renewal, I didn't renew it. I left my base with their blessing and came out here to start a new life for myself."
They both stood in silence. Mark went off to oversee the work being done across the property, introducing the nine year old when necessary.
It wasn't until dinner when either of them spoke.
"I have a proposition for you. If, when school starts, you get the best grades in your class, I'll train you as I would one of the cadets. Deal?" asked Mark sternly, stabbing a fork in her general direction.
She thought for a minute then, she nodded, a small smile. "You got yourself a deal Mark Kenneth Summers."
Mark raised an eyebrow.
"What? I had a lot of time to read during the car ride from California to Texas. I might as well know who I'm going to live with."
He chuckled softly and felt a small smile spread across his face. "I hold you to that deal, Buffy."
She grimaced. Mark frowned in response. "Whats wrong?" he asked.
"I don't like that name..."
"Buffy. I don't exactly like what it implies..."
"And what does that imply?" he asked slightly amused.
She scrunched up her face distastefully, "It makes people think that I'm like a flower that needs to be protected or something. Also, people laugh at me and it gets really old fast."
He let out another small chuckle. She sent him piercing glare. "Ok, fine. What do you want me to call you then?"
She thought for a moment then she replied, "Kenn, just Kenn."
May 23, 1982
Mark sat on the couch in the living room. This was the last day of school and he had gotten a curious letter in the mail. Turned out, Buffy's teacher had personally sent her grades to him.
In the letter, her teacher goes on to praise Buffy for being a hardworking and passionate student despite the tragic circumstances at the beginning of the year. She then credited Mark for being such a good role model for his little niece. At the end of the letter, she states that with her ambition, Buffy could go on to do great things if she set her mind to it.
He smiled at the letter. Buffy really wanted the training he was planning on giving her. At first, he was only planned on giving her basic training cadets received and nothing more. But, with this letter, he had no doubt that she would master that in weeks.
Also, maybe when she is older, he might begin teaching her about the forge. It was the only part of their little farm that she wasn't allowed to be in. Next summer would be a good time to start but it could be earlier, depending on her progress.
His musings were interrupted as Buffy came through the front door.
"Ahh…Uncle Mark? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Because you kept you end of the deal." Mark said.
"Oh, really?" Buffy visibly brightened. "Well then, about your end of the deal..."
Mark chuckled. "Yes, Yes. First of all, we will need to get you some training clothes. Then, we'll begin on learning the basics and building up your strength. After that, we'll begin the tougher stuff."
"What about when school starts? What are we going to do then?"
"We'll continue the exercises but before and after school, when all your homework is done."
She looked like she wanted to ask him something, but chose not to voice it aloud. He let it go. He knew, whatever she wanted to ask him, she would tell him when she's ready.
"So…when do we start?"
"We start right now. First off, we'll begin with the basic defensive stance..."
December 16, 1982
Half a year of training had changed the guilt-ridden young girl into something harder, more confident. She was like a piece of gold, dug from the earth in jagged, uneven bits, melted and molded into a beautiful unyielding sculpture.
She positively loved the at the chance to prove herself.
The physical demands were enormous. Even though she was tired, slightly bruised and covered in dirt and grass stains most days, she pressed on, bright smile plastered on to her mud splattered face. She was one of the most dedicated people he had ever had the pleasure to train. He was proud of her but…there was something that was bothering him.
"Can I ask you something?" Mark asked. Both of them were in the barn, just finishing their morning ride.
"Sure, Uncle Mark. Ask away." she responded, absentmindedly.
"Do you remember the last day of school?"
"Yeah. It was the first day that you began teaching me."
"I remember you were about tell me something, but decided against it. Not to pry but do you mind telling me what you were going to say?"
She stopped shoveling the hay in the stall as she registered his question. She seemed to consider her options. To tell him or not. A minute later, she asked, "Did you know that the Air Force accepts women into their Academies?"
Suddenly, everything became clear. "You want to join the Air Force." Mark stated.
"Why do you want to do that?"
She smiled faintly. "I want to prove that I am not a fragile flower that needs to be protected. Plus, the military runs in the family.."
Mark grinned, a grin so wide, it threatened to cut her weathered face in half. "Well, it seems I'm going to have to tweak my lesson plans then. Don't worry about the Academy. Your only 11. Seven years will be plenty of time to get you ready for what you will face. Also, the Air Force is gonna require a lot more intellectual knowledge then the other branches. Hmmm...maybe we should move the fighting and endurance training in the evening and do the informational part in the morning... "
"Yea?" he inquired, the look of joy sparking in his eyes.
"Shouldn't we finish our chores? The horses need to be tended as well..." she trailed off slightly amused.
Buffy let out out a soft laugh as the turned and continued shoveling.
Not long after, in addition to physical instruction, began informational studies as well. Mark was surprised at how much information Buffy could take in and memorize. She took everything in like a sponge.
He loved teaching her, passing on his knowledge off to a protégé. He loved the way she craved being taught new things. But with that love brought worry as well.
The though of her in actual combat scared him. Questions repeated in his mind. Question no one should have to ask.'Will she be wounded? What type of thing will she have to do? Will she be killed?'
He stopped. He shouldn't worry.He shook his, attempting to clear his nagging thoughts. It was Buffy he was thinking about. She could handle anything.
August 1, 1989
Location: Colorado Springs, CO
A lone figure entered an fairly empty hallway leading up to the most important man in the surrounding area.
The files he was carrying became heavier by the minute - becoming lead weights as the soles of his boots echoed in the deserted hallway. He stopped one corner away from his destination. He swallowed, trying to wet his dry throat only to find is mouth dry.
He took a deep breath, gathered up his courage and went around the corner. In front of him was a door labeled 'General Michael Kerrigan'.
"Sir, here are the results for the recent batch of applicants. The officer in charge put the files," he said gesturing from top to bottom, "in order of best to worst."
"Thank you, Lieutenant. You may go." The lieutenant, who didn't need to be told twice, saluted and turned and left the General alone to review the files placed in front of him.
Kerrigan sighed. He never enjoyed looking through the files. The only thing it gave him were facts, impersonal.
Every year he had received them, he always put it off until he got home, where he was more comfortable. But, this year, something was bugging him. It was a strange feeling. It was extremely irritating. Wanting to distract himself from the uncomfortable sensation, he reached for the first file of the pile.
He started reading.
Name: Buffy Kenn Summers
Parents: Hank Summers (Deceased), Joyce Summers (Deceased)
Current Guardian: Ret. Col. Mark Kenneth Summers (Uncle)
Graduation Position: Valedictorian
AP Courses: Math, Science, Social Studies, English
Blood Type: O Negative
Height: 5ft 3in
Written Test: Passed
Multiple Choice Test: Passed
Endurance Test: Passed
Strength Test: Passed
Fitness Test: Passed
Coordination Test: Passed
1 Mile Run: 5min 37sec (R)
Course Run: 4min 38sec (R)
Notes: Passed with great ease, shows great leadership potential. Recommended to partake in BCT.
Evaluator: Major Bert Stiles
Kerrigan was slightly shocked. He personally knew the Major and he didn't give out comments out like that unless he had seen something special in a person. He smiled.
He knew now it will be an interesting 4 years.
January 19, 1990
Buffy was breaking the rules and she knew it.
She didn't care.
Today was a special day.Today she turned 18.
18 was the magic number for teenagers in general. They all thought just because they were older, they knew better. They were wrong.
They were ignorant, unable to understand events that didn't directly effect them.
She sighed. She got along with all the other cadets just fine but not to the point of calling them friends. They were too blind. Their hardest experiences only ranged for broken hearts to broken bones.
They joked about shooting their first opponent. Going into their first battle and rising through the ranks.They never once thought of the dangers they would face. The people they would lose. The guilt that would forever haunt them and the emotions that they would experience on the battlefield.
She snorted. Here she was, on her birthday, and thinking such depressing thoughts.
She had snuck out of her dorm room and slipped into her favorite courtyard at the western end of the campus. It was fairly isolated and, as an added bonus, it had a small pond. She sat at the bench closest to the the pond watching the moon shimmer in the water's rippling surface.
She sighed and tilted her head back. She watched as her hot breath made contact with the chilly air, making it visible.
Back home, this day was easier to deal with. This day was a double-edged sword. It was the day she was born but it also was the day her parents died.
"Cadet Summers?" General Kerrigan asked curiously, out of no where. He stood straight with his arms crossed behind his back.
'Damn' she thought. Buffy quickly scrambled to her feet and stood at attention. "Sir!"
"At ease. Now do you mind telling me what are you doing out here? It must be below freezing."
"Uh…well, it is my birthday and my parents and I always have, had a tradition of waiting for the sun the rise…I know it sounds stupid-" Buffy explained sheepishly.
The General stopped her there. He shook his head. "No, it isn't stupid. I know that losing your parents was hard on you. Its alright to hold on to traditions that make you feel closer to them."
"Um…Thank you, General."
"But there is a matter of you breaking school curfew."
Buffy took a deep breath. "What will be my punishment for breaking curfew?"
"This time, I'll only give you a warning. "
She brightened. "Thank you, Sir!"
"Next time, don't let anyone catch you." She smiled at him and he winked. "May I sit here with you?"
"Of course, General."
"So, how's Mark doing these days? I heard he became a blacksmith."
Her face brightened. "Yeah! He makes mostly knives and daggers for the hunters that come from all around. Their the highest quality anyone can get! He sent me a letter a week ago saying that a retired Royal Marine from England personally came to the ranch to commission him into forging a dagger of his own design. He said that he asked around for the best blacksmith and his name was recommended."
"Really? Huh. Maybe I should ask him to make a couple of knives for me."
"You definitely should, sir!"
They continued talking until the sun chased the moon away.
May 17, 1993
They were officially 2nd Lieutenants in the Air Force. They were to be assigned to their respected duties in two weeks after a bit of rest. Well…that was the plan of most of the new Lieutenants.
General Kerrigan had different plans for a certain person.
"Sir, you wanted to speak with me?" asked Buffy.
"Yes. I have a proposition for you. As you know, most other graduates will go out to work on various projects the Air Force has in progress. For you, however, I believe that you would do better in something else."
She tilted her head. "What would that be, sir?"
"Its a special project. A lot like the black operations you've heard about. The basics of it is a team is highly trained and highly intelligent soldiers that can blend in and adapt to different environments. You'll have to learn many different languages and cultures in a relatively short amount of time but I believe you fit the bill."
She process the information that was given. She opened her mouth the reply but, Kerrigan cut her off.
"Understand this, if you accept, you're going to be out of contact for long periods of time. That means no phone calls and no letters."
"Sir, I know that Uncle Mark would understand why I would do this, but, before I accept, I want to know why me. Out of all the potential candidates, why did you chose me?"
Kerrigan stood up from his desk and turned to look out the window. "Kenn, I think you don't understand what kind of an effect you have on people. Many of your teachers praise you for inspiring your fellow classmates to follow your lead. They follow your orders without question because they trust you. You wouldn't ask others to do tasks you yourself wouldn't do. To sum it up, you are a natural leader. You are what most officers strive to be."
"Um…thank you Sir. I don't know what to say." she relied, uncomfortable with the unexpected praise.
He smiled at her. "Think about what I said."
"Sir," she stopped for a second, took a deep breath before continuing,"I don't need to. I accept the mission."
July 1, 1998
Mission Rico Report
Members Participating: Col. Jimmy Marks Sutlers, Lt. Col. Brian Cam West, Maj. Buffy Kenn Summers, Capt. Jessica Rosa Rodrigues, and Capt. John Lee Yang
Number of Casualties: 4
Circumstances surrounding the deaths: Classified
Surviving Personnel: Maj. Buffy Kenn Summers
Surviving Personnel Reassignment to Deep Space Telemetry
End of Report
A/N: I know there are many inconsistencies but all have being included in this story because either they were a necessary change or the correct information was not available to me at the time.
Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we truly are.