STARGATE ATLANTIS: The Furies (Book 4 in the Legacy series) by Jo Graham Page A

liberal arts degree got you these days. Mostly, she answered the phone.
    I hope you’re doing ok, and that work isn’t too boring. It probably is, but it’s a start. There aren’t many jobs where you get to save the world at twenty two.
    Sam hoped that didn’t sound too sanctimonious, or like the kind of letter Jacob had sent her when she was twenty two.
    When she was twenty two she’d been in Saudi Arabia, part of the build up called Desert Shield. Her top ten class rank at the Air Force Academy had at least won her that. Not a top posting to a top squadron, not F-15s or F-16s, the best of the best, even though she had more than earned it, but at least she could shuttle a Warthog around behind the lines. Congress forbade women to fly in combat positions. It didn’t matter how much she deserved it or how well she had done, or even how much her superiors wanted to give her the chance. Congress said that her uterus disqualified her. The American public would not stand for women being killed.
    She’d been bitter. Of course she had been. Bitter, and certain that it would not be long before that asinine rule was overturned.
    Nineteen years later it was still here, ignored more than obeyed, gotten around by a generation of Air Force commanders her age who came up with baroque excuses to avoid saying they were actually sending women into combat, actually letting them compete on a level field with men. Congress hadn’t budged. But more and more positions were open to women, at least in her service.
    Technically, captaincy of the
Hammond
wasn’t a combat position. Technically, the
Hammond
was a research vessel. Of course officially the
Hammond
didn’t exist, which made it much easier to ignore that its captain was a woman.
    Mel Hocken was in the same position. It wasn’t technically prohibited for a woman to fly a 302, because technically they didn’t exist. And if they did exist, they were technically a research project into high altitude aircraft. Which certainly did not involve engaging in air combat with alien spaceships.
    Sometimes she thought that the sheer dishonesty involved negated the honor they were supposed to embrace, but then Congress couldn’t be expected to be as progressive as the military.
    All of which was not Cassie’s problem.
    I hope you’re finding the work rewarding. I know that when you’re in a starting pos ition, not directly in the field yourself, it may seem like you’re not really doing anything. But you are, even when you can’t see it yet. Even if you’re not the one out there working with kids directly, the work you do makes the field work possible. There ’s nothing wrong with learning the ropes in a support position.
    Ok, she had more or less bitten Jacob’s head off for saying the same thing, back when she was flying a Warthog around Saudi Arabia while Rotsy boys like Sheppard who barely graduated from state universities were flying vipers under enemy fire. Why yes, Dad! I should totally appreciate the chance to back up guys with half the brains and half the hard work because they’re men.
    Jacob had been reasonable then, even if he’d overestimated Congress too. Just a couple of years, Samantha. Just a couple of years, and you’ll rise to the top. You’ll pass them and leave them in the dust.
    Now she was a full bird colonel with the
Hammond
in her hands, and Sheppard saluted her. She’d make field grade, if she wasn’t killed, and he never would.
    I know you want to make a difference, and you already are even if it doesn’t feel like it yet. You are, and you will. And as far as the conventional wisdom that an undergrad anthropology degree doesn’t lead anywhere, look at your Uncle Daniel. Sometimes you can’t imagine the places things can lead you when you begin.
    Of course Sheppard didn’t want to make field grade. The last thing he wanted was a star on his shoulder and an apartment in DC, a desk job far away from Atlantis. He might not know it yet, but this was his