Okay, I think the next chapter of FOX Squadron is ready.



Please understand that I had to make a few chronological changes

to bring the story in line with my calculated timeline.  I'll retrofit

the changes to my previous episodes.



Hope you enjoy this.  Consider it my Christmas present.  ^_^











Email:  sandborn@kc.rr.com

Or       sandborn@microlink.net



Web:  www.microlink.net/~sandborn





-- Attached file included as plaintext by Listar --

-- File: C6.TXT



                          Fox Squadron

                    Episode 6 - Regulations

                        by G.L. Sandborn









     Colonel Stuart was surprised to see lights on in his

headquarters office when he arrived at 0700.  Pulling into his

marked parking place, he squinted at the windows of the building

in hopes of detecting just who was in his headquarters.

     He waited several seconds, until certain there was no

movement inside, before cautiously exiting his rover and

approaching the steps.  Every fibre of his body was alert and

prepared for an ambush.  This was wrong.  No one was supposed to

be in the building.  

     Creeping up the steps, he detected the faint sound of music

playing inside.  Music?  Could someone have left a radio playing

all night?

     His hand gripped the door knob.  a gentle test confirmed it

was unlocked and turned freely.  With a frown, he pushed open the

door, expecting an attack at any moment.  The music got louder as

the door silently swung wide but there was still no sign of

activity.

     Cautiously, he stepped inside, his eyes taking in every

detail in the room.  The hissing sound of water running in the

bathroom was odd.  Perhaps someone was taking a shower.  

     With a sigh, he shook his head.  That was silly.  Why would

anyone break into his headquarters to use a shower?

     To his surprise, the door to the office along the back wall

closest to him swung open and Ona Parino stepped out wearing a

towel that barely covered her body, her long legs drawing most of

his attention.

     "Morning, sir," she said as if walking through the building

wearing only a towel that barely covered her body was a normal,

everyday occurrence.

     Jeff just nodded and stared as she padded on bare feet

across the short distance from the office to the bath.  Opening

the door, she passed a still wet Cindy Wallace on her way to

their makeshift dressing room.

     "Left the water running at just the right temperature," she

chirped.  Ona nodded and went inside the bath, closing the door

behind her.  Cindy noticed the Colonel and smiled.  "A water main

broke last night and the barracks was without water this morning. 

We thought we'd just come in early and see if the water was on

here.  Looks like we were lucky.  Good thing we're so far out

from the rest of the base, huh?"

     Jeff smiled incredulously and nodded, noting that she was

dripping on his formerly spotless floor.  He also noticed that

her bath towel covered a lot more of her anatomy than did Ona's.

     "We'll clean up the mess just as soon as we finish," she

said with a smile.

     Jeff nodded again with a slightly bewildered expression. 

"Where did you get a key?"

     "Oh, that," Cindy answered with a giggle.  "Gloria's

roommate is General Emerson's secretary.  She got one for us.  We

figured that since we're usually here before you, there's no

reason for us to stand in the parking lot."  She added a frown

before noting: "It's not safe for two women to be standing alone

in the darkness."

     Jeff resisted making a face.  He couldn't imagine in a more

secure environment than the company of Ona Parino.  Ona was most

certainly capable of handling whatever trouble they might come

across, or might come across them.

     He dismissed the whole issue with a smile and turned towards

his own office.  He was never going to get used to this.

     He'd just begun going over his schedule for the day in his

head when Cindy called in an off-hand manner: "Your first

appointment is 0800."

     He nodded and continued walking.

     "It's with Lt Cook-Lynn, sir."

     That caused him to stop and look her way.  "Who --?"

     "You remember, Maj Vera's girlfriend."

     "Oh, yes, of course."

     He started to ask her another question but she interrupted

again: "The morning reports are on your desk, sir."

     "Very good."

     "The light's out in Captain Fox's office."

     "Take care of it."

     "Logistics will be by tomorrow morning for the empty crates

in our hangar."

     "Good, good."

     "Your signature stamp won't be here until next week."

     "Meaning?"

     "You'll have to continue signing everything by hand."

     "Damn."

     At that point, Jeff gave up.  He figured she would always be

just one step ahead of him, no matter what he was going to ask. 

With a sigh, he turned for his office.

     The sound of someone slamming open the front door caused him

to pause, looking over his shoulder.

     "You!" an attractive, dark-haired young lady dressed in a

rumpled version of a cowgirl outfit growled at him.  "Are you in

charge of this band of pirates?"

     "Who the hell are you?" he asked, stunned at the sudden

verbal assault.

     "I'm looking for Colonel Stuart."  The new girl planted her

fists on her hips and glared his direction.

     Jeff glanced at Cindy.  The poor girl just stood where she

was, gripping the towel with both hands and dripping on the

floor; looking like a deer caught in a car's headlights.

     "I'm Colonel Stuart," he said with a frown.  "And you are?"

     "Pissed!"

     "Obviously.  Might I ask why?"

     She glanced at Cindy.  "Not in front of the kid."

     "Hey!" Cindy protested, shaken out of her trance by the

insult.  "I'm the Admin Officer."

     With a snort, the newcomer looked Cindy up and down.  "Nice

uniform."

     "I was taking a shower."

     The cowgirl wrinkled her nose and frowned at Jeff.  "Isn't

it a little early in the day for naked chicks?"

     Jeff felt the urge to toss this interloper out the front

door and try to forget this happened but his sense of command

dignity precluded such physical responses - but just barely. 

"The water is off at Grant Barracks."

     "I wouldn't know," the woman snarled.  "I slept in the back

seat of a car."

     "And you obviously woke up crabby."  He gestured towards his

office.  "Why don't we finish this discussion in my little garage

over here."

     With another glance at Cindy, the newcomer stomped past Jeff

and into his office.  Cindy scowled at the woman with all the

dignity a person wearing a towel in the middle of an office could

muster.  Jeff took a deep breath and turned to follow.  It was

entirely too early for this crap.

     He caught up with the fuming young lady as she stood glaring

at his desk.  He quietly closed the door and worked his way

around to his chair.  "I hope you don't mind me sitting down."

     "Do what you want.  It's your office."

     Jeff collapsed into his squeaky office chair and leaned

back.  "Now then, just who do you think you are coming into my

headquarters like that?"

     "I'm Captain Liz Littlebear and your Executive Officer

Shanghaied me!" the woman growled.

     "Really?  Captain Fox is getting creative."

     "She conned me into signing transfer papers for this

squadron."  Liz leaned over the desk with blazing eyes.

     "And just how did she manage that?"

     "By waiting until I was drunk and..."  Littlebear's voice

trailed off, like she'd just remembered more of last night's

events.  Much of her fire dissolved in a flash.

     Jeff, however, wasn't going to let her off so easily. 

"And?"

     Liz blinked a couple of times before frowning at the desk. 

"I remember a fight in The Big MAC, then I was running.  There

were sirens.  a car pulled up and the back door opened."  Liz

shook her head, like she was trying to dislodge the rest of her

story but it didn't appear to help.  "After that..."

     "After that, you signed transfer papers for 13 Squadron,"

Jeff finished for her.

     "I remember... I remember signing something."  Liz blinked

some more and wore a quizzical expression over her continuing

indignation.  "I thought it was for the room."

     "What room?  You said you slept in the back seat of a car."

     "Yeah...  I know...  But..."  Liz tried three times to fit

all the pieces together.  She struck out.

     "So now you want to back out," Jeff said with a sly grin.

     "Yeah... yeah, that's right."  Liz focused on the Colonel

and tried to rekindle her anger.  It wasn't working.  She knew

Jeff now had the upper hand.

     "Who do you belong to?"

     Liz's mouth opened to answer and just as quickly closed

again.  Her eye twitched nervously.  "I'm... I'm on medical

leave."

     Jeff stood up and leaned over his desk so that their noses

were almost touching.  She smelled of stale alcohol and he could

clearly see the dark circles under her eyes from lack of proper

sleep.  "From where?  The rodeo?"

     Liz retreated only enough to straighten up, continuing to

glare at Colonel Stuart.  That was all he needed to see.

     "Why is it I get the feeling you're not telling me

everything?"

     "I'm not in trouble, if that's what your suggesting," she

said in protest.  "I really am on medical leave.  You can ask my

CO."

     "I intend to," Jeff said with a smile as he picked up the

phone.  "Right after I call security."

     He had just begun dialing when her hand slammed down on the

phone, disconnecting the line.

     Jeff said nothing, his eyes narrowed into suspicious slits.

She was anxious to avoid being caught.  That gave him all the

leverage he needed.

     Liz's face twitched again, her hand slowly recovering from

the phone.  "I'm... just... a little overdue."

     "Well, well, well, now we're getting somewhere.  Just how

overdue are you?" he asked, hanging up the phone.

     Liz sighed and stepped to the window looking out at the

tarmac.  "I don't know.  a couple of weeks, maybe a month."

     Sitting down, he eyed his guest.  She didn't look all that

in need of a medical leave.  There was more going on here than

she was telling.  "I suppose now you're going to tell me a real

heart-breaker."

     Hugging herself and frowning at the scene outside, she

continued to wear a look of defiance.  Such an expression looked

out of place on her.  She was a pretty girl, about five and a

half feet tall, shapely with almost black hair that hung limply

down her back.  Her beautiful face was marred by a couple of

scars, the largest extending down her right cheek, ending almost

at her jaw line.  Her dark complexion and almond-shaped eyes gave

her a suspiciously familiar look.

     "Of course, you don't have to tell me everything if you

don't want.  Hell, you don't have to tell me anything."  Jeff

slumped back into his chair.  "Besides, I get the feeling you

don't like us very much."

     Her head shook, her lips stretched into a thin line.  "It's

not that..."

     "Then what?"

     Liz sighed, tension draining from her body as she closed her

eyes and made a painful face.  "Look, you don't want me.  I'm

trouble."

     Jeff snorted.  "Half the people in this squadron can claim

that honor.  What makes you so special?"

     Clasping her hands behind her back, Liz looked out the

window again.  "You ever hear of the Nord Seven Incident?"

     Nord Seven?  That name rang a bell but the details were, at

best, sketchy.  "All I remember about it is someone screwed up

and a lot of RDF people died."

     With a look of resignation, Liz said: "I'm the one who

screwed up.  At least, that's what Colonel Martinez says."

     "'Bugs' Martinez?"

     "Friend of yours?"

     "Hardly.  I was glad to see him transfer to the ASC.  He

departed last month."

     "They're welcome to him," she snarled.  "The asshole."

     "Accurate but disrespectful.  I gather your story of the

incident is different from his."

     "Yeah," she said softly to the window sill.  "Not that

you'll believe it."

     "Try me."

     "I was a flight leader in Snow Leopard Squadron.  One

morning, my flight was assigned to patrol the waters off the

Danish coast.  Our orders were to stay within the ten mile limit

and report anything suspicious to RDF Nord command.  Two other

flights were patrolling sectors on either side of mine.  

     Crazy - Sgt Turner, my wingman - picked up a small surface

contact just outside the zone.  We thought it was just a fishing

boat or something that had wandered off course.  Anyway, I left

the other section for cover and took my wingman to investigate. 

At first, we didn't see anything.  Crazy spotted a large

periscope about the time we overflew the contact point."  She

paused, her body sagging slightly.  "By the time we'd turned

around, it surfaced."

     "A submersible?" Jeff ventured.  

     "One of the biggest submersible attack carriers I'd ever

seen.  It just popped to the surface like a cork."

     "RDF?"

     She sadly shook her head.

     He'd heard the Reds were working on such things, ever since

the stupid diplomatic overture of 2008 that gave them CVS

Iapetus.   They were supposed to be years away from building one

of their own.  It was thought they didn't have the capability of

producing hulls strong enough.

     "I tried to warn Crazy to follow me out but the first volley

of missiles..."  She paused again, her head tilting forward until

it came to rest against the glass window.  Her voice dropped to

barely a whisper.  "He just blew up."

     Jeff closed his eyes imagining what it must have been like. 

He'd lost wingmen himself, many he had come to like very much. 

It was always like losing a piece of himself.

     "I remembered something you said back at the academy about

altitude being life and stood my bird on its tail, going to full

power.  I thought that if I could just get enough altitude, I

could outrun the missiles."

     Jeff nodded at the reference to one of his tactical dictums;

always hold the high ground.  The nod was more instinctive than

reactive.  He couldn't recall a Littlebear in any of his classes.

     "I popped flares, squeezed the ECM and prayed.  Somehow I

evaded the missiles and set off for home.  I called Colonel

Martinez, asking for cover but all he would say was: 'stand by'." 

Liz glared at Jeff like she was looking at her previous

commander.  "I kept calling him for help but he just repeated the

same thing over and over.  Stand by.  Stand by.  Finally, he

stopped responding.  As I approached the Danish coast, instead of

the Colonel and a flight of Veritechs, I found the sky full of

MiG-33s."

     The mere mention of the Red's latest STOL carrier-based

fighter had Jeff's complete attention.  He'd heard of their

fantastic maneuverability and awesome firepower.  While he

continued to believe that in the right hands a Veritech was still

master of the skies, it was clear the newcomers were quite

capable, especially in numbers, of being a most dangerous foe. 

Liz's story rammed home that fact most graphically.

     "The rest of my flight heard my calls and tried to

intervene."  She shook her head and made a futile gesture.  "The

Reds swarmed all over them.  I heard each one of them go down."

     "And Martinez still refused to help?"  Jeff couldn't believe

a responsible commander would hang a whole flight out to die like

that.

     "Donnie and Eric - leaders of Alpha and Charlie Flights -

disobeyed orders and came to help.  I don't know what happened to

them.  My Veritech was so shot up it could barely fly.  I was

able to nurse it closer to the coast but the MiG's just kept

shooting.  I must have blacked out because when I came to, I was

surrounded by water, the only light coming from one off-line

display screen."

     Jeff nodded.  The pilot compartment is the toughest part of

a Veritech.  If the canopy held, there was no reason the pilot

couldn't survive a water ditching.

     Liz shuddered and hugged herself.  "I stayed there for five

days until a salvage ship came to retrieve what was left of my

bird and recover my body."

     "They must have been surprised to find you alive," Jeff

noted, looking out the window again.  

     "I spent about two weeks in the hospital before being

transferred to Yellowstone.  I wasn't allowed to return.  They

said I needed intensive psychological help."  She snorted

disdainfully.  "It was just their way of keeping me quiet and

discrediting my side of the story."

     "So you crawled inside a bottle and hid," Jeff said, his

eyes glued to Liz, anticipating her reaction.

     Instead of vehement denial, she drew a deep breath and

slowly exhaled.  "Yup."

     For several agonizing moments the room was quiet; broken

only by the muffled sounds of normal office traffic coming from

the other room.  Jeff slowly rocked back and forth in his chair,

his hands clasped on top of his head as he tried to piece

together Littlebear's tale.  He looked for inconsistencies or

contradictions.  There were none he could see.  Just a dedicated

flight leader hung out to twist in the wind by her despicable CO.

     "Look, I know I can't hold you to whatever you've signed

last night.  I'll... talk with Lt Wallace and make sure she stops

it before it goes too far."  Jeff turned around in his chair and

regarded Liz with a serious look.  "I won't turn you in.  You're

free to go if you want.  I'll only say that we need you and

you're more than welcome to stay."

     He heard her sniff quietly.  "Thank you, sir."

     He turned back around to face the window and watched her

reflection drift towards the door.  There, she paused.

     "Sir?"

     "Yes, Captain."

     "Are you really the Colonel Stuart from Butte Ridge?"

     There it was again.  Butte Ridge.  Would he ever live that

down?  "Yup."

     "I heard you stayed with your people, refusing to abandon

even the dead."

     Jeff drew a deep, ragged breath.  "I don't abandon those who

follow me.  I don't leave my dead behind."

     "Colonel Martinez... " She paused like the words kept

getting stuck.  "Colonel Martinez abandoned me and my flight.  We

were outnumbered.  We... we didn't have a chance."

     There weren't many colonels left in the RDF and he knew them

all.  Some stuck out in his mind for reasons he'd rather forget. 

"Colonel Martinez is no longer an issue in the RDF," Jeff said in

a voice that sounded like a low growl.  He turned around to look

directly at Captain Littlebear.  "I need pilots, Captain.  I need

experienced pilots to lead the others."

     "Like Captain Fox?"

     "She's the Executive Officer."

     "And the others?"

     "Young, inexperienced, and... female."  The last word stuck

in his throat like a dagger.  He still was having trouble

accepting the fact that the RDF was down to their last option;

women pilots.

     "Are they all as young as that kid out there?" Liz asked,

her head slowly tilting towards the door.

     "That kid out there is my Admin Officer and a damn good one. 

Yes, they're young and inexperienced.  But they're also eager,

perhaps too eager.  I need another strong hand to guide them."

     "You've got Montoya and Mills.  They're good."

     "How do you know them?"

     "We grew up together."

     Jeff couldn't help a little smile.  "You're Lakota too,

aren't you?"

     Liz frowned at the floor.  "Yes, sir.  I hope that won't

count against me."

     "Why?  Outside of myself, Wallace and Parino, the whole

squadron appears to be Lakota, probably from the same tribe."

     Liz nodded and peeked up through long bangs at Jeff.  "It

would be different being among my own kind for a change."

     "I'm sure you'd feel more comfortable."

     Liz took a deep breath and sighed heavily.  "I just don't

know if I can do it anymore.  After what happened..."

     "I'll never abandon you, Captain," was all he said.  The way

he said it caused her to gaze hopefully into his eyes.

     She sniffed again and grimaced at her obvious show of

feminine weakness before her eyes dropped to the floor.  "I know

that."

     "You want to think about this?"

     She paused for only a moment.  Slowly her head began to

shake.  "No, I can't let them win."

     Jeff just nodded.  He knew what that meant.  If she gave in

and allowed them to pigeonhole her as a 'head case', she'd be

through in the RDF.  She deserved another chance.

     Before he could call out to Lt Wallace, the door opened and

the young Admin Officer, now dressed in her duty uniform,

scurried into the room carrying a clipboard and a folder.

     "Here are the transfer papers and Captain Littlebear's

service record," she said handing them to Jeff.

     She turned just enough to frown a challenge at the new

recruit.  a flicker of a smile crossed the Captain's face.

     "I like that uniform better," she said.  "Of course, the

other had a certain charm."

     For a brief moment, Cindy's reaction was delayed as she

considered the Captain's change of personality.  a broad grin

slowly grew.  "Thank you, sir," she said.

     Liz nodded without responding.  Her head turned enough for

her to look out the window.  She frowned as if she heard

something or could detect something amiss.

     At first, Cindy didn't understand why the Captain changed

back to aloof indifference.  Fingering the clipboard, she leaned

over slightly, attempting to catch a better look of the Captain's

face. 

     Jeff could see something odd was going on but figured it was

just a case of the already unsociable Liz doing what she should

be expected to do.  "Cindy, would you --"

     "I've already contacted RDF Personnel and made arrangements. 

We've got her a room over at Grant Barracks and Logistics is

arranging for a new uniform," Cindy said, interrupting Jeff again

and handing him the clipboard with curious glances towards Liz.

     "Fine, fine," Jeff said as he checked the form.  Signing in

the indicated space, he handed the clipboard back.

     "I'll finish the roster and have it on your desk in ten

minutes.  Lt Cook-Lynn is here.  She arrived just after Captain

Fox so I've got them talking about the transfer.  I'm still

looking into the delay of our ground transport and the Armory is

being difficult about our small arms weapons request.  Sgt

Montoya is handling that."

     "Very sensible," Jeff agreed.

     "Oh, and Captain Lynn is giving the Rehab Detachment hell

over the delay in delivery of our Veritechs.  They said something

about a small change in plans but Gail.. I mean, Captain Lynn

says it's just a minor detail."

     "Stay on it," Jeff said nodding.

     "Yes, sir."  Cindy gathered her things and departed,

frowning at Liz as she went.

     Liz closed the door and gave Jeff a curious look.  "She's

pretty organized."

     "I couldn't run the place without her," Jeff agreed.

     "Well, I guess I better go see about that room," Liz opened

the door.

     "Captain?" Jeff said, picking up a pen and opening the

folder containing the morning reports.  "The next time I see you,

I better be looking at an RDF officer in the correct uniform."

     Liz flashed the barest hint of a smile.  "Yes, sir."

     As the door closed behind her, Jeff shook his head.  "This

is the strangest damn squadron I've ever had."

     Before he could get back to his paperwork, the door opened

again.

     "Sir?  Lt Cook-Lynn is ready," Cindy said in an official

manner.

     Dropping the pen on his desk, Jeff took a deep breath.  If

this was an indication of how his day was going to go, he'd get

nothing done.  "Fine.  Send her in."

     Jeff had met a lot of fighter pilots in his time.  Some he

came to admire and others he loathed.  There were good pilots and

those who no one could ever figure out how they got past flight

school in the first place.  However, they all shared one thing;

they looked and acted like pilots.  Even the female pilots he

already had fit the mold.  So much so that he had almost come to

accept them.  What stepped through the door when Cindy got out of

the way shook his fledgling confidence.

     Shy, mousy, looking like a lost little girl, Lt Mary Cook-Lynn 

edged her way inside the office.  Jeff leaned over in his

seat and stared with a frown.  Wearing an appropriate RDF

uniform, right down to the gleaming Veritech pilot wings on her

chest, Lt Cook-Lynn appeared more afraid of facing him than rebel

Zentraedi.

     She stopped the prescribed distance from his desk and

saluted.

     Jeff blinked a couple of times, waiting for her to say

something - anything, before returning the salute.  He had made

concessions to staff this squadron but this pilot taxed even

those standards.

     She was clearly an older girl, possibly in her early

twenties, and her physical stature seemed correct for a pilot but

the look on her face raised questions as to the nature of her

transfer.

     "Sit down, Lieutenant," he said, reaching for her service

record.  Casting a couple of troubled glances her way, he skimmed

her RDF history.

     As one of the last graduates of both the RDF Academy and the

Veritech Flight School, she was the embodiment of the desperation

the service had come to.  Her record was undistinguished with

only acceptable ratings all the way back to flight school.  There

was a brief list of operational mission hours and no mention of

combat training or even flights in a combat zone.  In fact,

despite her five years of service, she appeared to have about as

much real Veritech flying experience as he'd expect a raw

recruit.

     He cleared his throat, causing her to flinch noticeably. 

"Major Vera says you're a Veritech pilot," he said with, what he

hoped was a friendly smile.  

     The girl just nodded, her eyes constantly in motion, taking

in every detail of the room.

     "Well, we certainly need pilots."  He tugged at his collar. 

Why did it feel so warm in the room?  "However, we are especially

in need of combat experienced pilots.  Do you have any

operational hours in a Veritech?"

     Mary shifted nervously in her seat and nodded.

     "More than a hundred?"

     Mary shook her head.

     "More than ten?"

     She shook her head again.

     "You *do* speak English, right?"

     Mary's chin dropped as she nodded one more time.

     "Fine, suppose we have a discussion.  You know, where I ask

a question and you answer."

     Mary nodded between glances from under thick bangs and long

stares at the floor.

     He sighed openly and turned his chair around to look out the

window.  "So what's your story?  How'd you wind up here at

Yellowstone?"  He figured that if he wasn't looking at her, she

might just open up.  It seemed to work.

     "I was assigned to Vermillion Squadron in Australia a few

months ago," she began in the tiniest voice possible.  "They

wouldn't let me fly."

     Jeff rocked back in his chair.  He could certainly

understand that.  After all, just how long would anyone want to

fly with a person who rarely talked.  "Did you get *any* time in

the cockpit?"

     "Well, they let me go on one patrol down near Tasmania.  But

after we landed back at base, the flight leader asked I be

removed from his flight."

     "Why?" Jeff asked, turning his head to look directly at

Mary.  She never looked up.

     Instead, she shrugged her slender shoulders and pouted some

more.  "I don't think he liked me."

      Jeff toyed with the pen on his desk.  Why did he get an

uncomfortable feeling talking to her?  "I'm going to take a stab

at something here.  Were you the only woman in the squadron?"

     Mary nodded.

     It all added up.  An all male squadron, posted to the

wilderness of Australia, receiving a quiet, mousy pilot they

never asked for.  He could see why they wouldn't want to work

with her.  

     He fought a pang of guilt over his previous thoughts

concerning women pilots.  a few weeks ago, under the same

conditions, he might have done exactly the same thing as

Vermillion Squadron's CO.

     "They're here!" came an excited voice from the other room.

     Before Jeff could react, the door flew open.

     "The Veritechs are here!" Cindy yelled in a most unmilitary

way.  For an instant she hovered in the open doorway, looking

like a kid on Christmas morning, before disappearing in a flurry

of pounding footsteps.

     Her enthusiasm was understandable.  Without Veritechs, the

squadron was an organization in name alone.  It lacked the means

to perform its function.

     Jeff shared this enthusiasm.  Slamming a fist on his desk,

he bolted for the door.

     Lt Cook-Lynn remained behind, alone and looking like an

abandoned puppy.

     Jeff stuck his head back inside the room.  "You can come

too, ya know," he said before disappearing again.

     Mary sighed before standing, smoothing her uniform skirt and

silently following the mad squadron scramble for the tarmac.

     Outside, the entire squadron watched in excited little knots

as a small convoy of aircraft tugs pulled a line of six Veritechs

towards the squadron's flight line.  Excited voices exchanged

hushed conversations as the convoy drew nearer.  Those

conversations died off completely when they got a better look at

what was being delivered.

     Stunned silence greeted the tugs as they pulled each fighter

into its parking place.  The last hobbled in on a flat nose wheel

tire.

     The silence was broken only by Capt Lynn.  "They're junk!"

she gasped.

     Jeff had to agree.  Worn, corroded, with faded paint and

scratched canopies, they represented vehicles more likely to be

scrapped than put back in service as front-line fighters.

     He felt rather than saw Gail at his side.  Her anger

practically caused the air to crackle.  He knew what his wife was

like when angry.  He wondered if it ran in the family.

     Spotting the convoy commander Gail launched her assault. 

"LIEUTENANT!" she yelled at the bored-looking officer dressed in

worn work overalls.

     "Yes, ma'am," he answered with only the illusion of a

salute.

     "What the hell is this?" she demanded, her arm sweeping

towards the rolling junkyard parked in front of her.

     Obviously not intimidated by Gail's verbal assault, the

young officer pulled a small sheaf of papers from the cargo

pocket on his right leg and began shuffling through them.

     "Six Veritechs, five VF-1A models and..."  He paused to

squint at the fighter closest to them.  "And one VF-1S.  Sign

here."

     Gail stared at the papers, her control slipping with every

heartbeat.  "Honey, I'm not signing for these... these... rejects

from a junkyard."

     The lieutenant just shrugged and looked past her.  "Okay,

where's your CO?"

     "He's not signing for them either."  Gail gave every

indication of her intent to beat six new fighters out of the

unshakeable lieutenant.

     "Well, they're yours anyway," the Lieutenant said, tearing

off the top sheet from the others and stuffing it in the breast

pocket of Gail's uniform jacket.  With a tired turn towards his

crew, he yelled: "Hurry up and unhook 'em."

     Throughout all this, Jeff stood and stared at the VF-1S. 

Its faded paint left little mystery of its heritage.  The skull

and cross bones still leered out from its faded black tails.  a

personal insignia of a little skunk grinned from its position on

the nose; a fitting comment on what it was attached to.  This was

a leftover from Skull Squadron; possibly from the Malcontent

Uprising in South America.  In any case, it was obviously not

ready to fly in its current condition.

     Without a word, he turned and started back for his office. 

Passing Capt Fox, he paused only long enough to issue a single

order.  "Assemble the squadron in the hangar in ten minutes," he

growled.

     "What?" Katherine said, startled at the menace in his voice.

     "Ten minutes," he repeated while walking away.  "Everyone."

     He could feel their eyes on him as he made the long walk to

the headquarters building.  It didn't matter.  Once again, he'd

been lied to.  Instead of the promised, flyable-condition

fighters, he got six rolling pieces of junk that would have been

an embarrassment if they weren't so disappointing.

     Inside, he paused.  Taking in every detail of the empty main

room, he felt himself give in to his depression.  This wasn't

right.  He'd always gotten the best material support when he took

over a squadron.  Sure, he'd often had to do with less than he

felt the job required but he never got the feeling that he was

fighting both the enemy *and* the RDF.  Something had changed. 

Something he couldn't identify.

     His footsteps echoed eerily in the room as he marched to his

office.  There was only one place he could get answers. 

Snatching the phone off its base, he stabbed a series of buttons. 

Leaning on his desk, he listened as the phone rang at the other

end.

     "General Emerson's office," came a tired female voice.

     "This is Colonel Stuart," he said in as controlled voice

possible.  "Let me talk to Rolf."

     "I'm sorry, sir.  General Emerson has been called to a

meeting up in Monument City."

     Jeff stared at the phone.  "Gone?  Why?"

     "Not sure, sir.  But the rumor is that the General Council

of the United World Government is going to appoint General

Leonard as supreme commander."

     "Leonard, a Field Marshal?" Jeff gasped.  "You can't be

serious."

     "That's what we heard," the secretary said in resignation.

     "What about Rolf?  What about the RDF?"

     "Don't know, sir.  Most of the staff here thinks we'll be

absorbed into the ASC."

     "Those the ASC will take," Jeff corrected.  He knew what

this meant.  Leonard was making his move, consolidating his

power.  He must have the necessary council votes to have the ASC

declared the sole military arm of the new government.  That would

only escalate the animosity of the various city-states in this

sector.  None felt comfortable with the overly-aggressive

newcomers who used a heavy hand when dealing with dissent.  It

might even spur the EBSIS and Chinese to unite.  This was not

good.

     Thanking the secretary, he hung up.  Twenty-three years he

served, keeping the peace and fighting invaders for the benefit

of all.  Now, a military organization with a megalomaniac in

command was going to replace him and the benevolent RDF.  He

should have retired when he had the chance.

     "Can you believe those morons?" Gail yelled as she stomped

into his office.  "They promised to deliver six *flyable*

Veritechs by noon."  Gail stomped over to the window and waved

her hand at wrecks parked outside.  "I wouldn't put my worst

enemy in one of *those*."

     Jeff sighed.  "I'm certain there's a good reason for what

they delivered."

     "Good reason, my ass.  Somebody's gonna pay for this," she

vowed.

     "It's probably just a mix-up of some sort."

     Gail frowned at her brother-in-law, studying his face. 

"What's going on, Jeffrey?" she asked suspiciously.  "It's not

like you to give up so easily."

     For a few uneasy moments they stared at each other.  Jeff

knew the answer.  Something wasn't adding up.  Why would he be

asked to raise a squadron and then be denied the means to do so?  

"Gail, I don't think those Veritechs were meant to be used. 

Somebody is sending us a message."

     "You think we've been sabotaged?" she gasped, her eyes

reflecting the betrayal she felt.

     Jeff shrugged.  Taking a deep breath, he exhaled hard. 

"Directly?  No.  I don't believe in conspiracies."

     "Then what?"

     "I don't know," he said, hanging his head and running a hand

through his hair.  "I've got less than three weeks to pull

together a squadron.  I don't have enough pilots, I've got no

material support, and now I don't even have operational

Veritechs."

     Gail's eyes narrowed.  "I hope you're not going to take this

lying down."

     "What can I do?" he protested.  "We can't do the job if we

don't have the people or the tools.  Someone doesn't want us

around."

     "What about General Emerson?  Surely *he* knows what's going

on."

     Jeff shook his head.  "He got called to Monument City. 

Rumor is they're going to promote Leonard to Supreme Commander."

     "That toad?" Gail snarled.  "His solution to everything is

to kill them all and let God sort it out.  He makes Khyron look

reasonable."

     "I know," Jeff said with a sigh.  "I've been afraid of this

for some time.  Leonard, whatever we may think of him, is a good

politician.  Looks like he pulled off the coup he wanted."

     Gail shook her head and began pacing.  She always paced when

trying to work out a problem.  "Well, we *need* those Veritechs."

     "Yes and I've been working on that."

     She stopped and shot Jeff a challenging look.  "What do you

have in mind?"

     Jeff picked up a couple of folders off his desk.  "You're

coming with me," he said walking towards the door.  "Right after

we have a talk with the girls."

     "The girls?" Gail chided as she followed.

     "Okay, the rest of the squadron," Jeff corrected.

     "That's better."

     They made their way back out to the hangar.  All the way,

Gail kept mumbling about timetables, parts, and ground crew. 

Jeff knew they were behind schedule for just about everything;

especially the training of new pilots.  But he also knew that the

key to getting back on schedule was getting flyable Veritechs.

     As they entered the hangar, Katherine called the squadron to

attention.  To her credit, she was able to get them into some

semblance of a formation.

     "At ease," Jeff said in his best command voice.  "I'm sure

you are all as disappointed as I am with the material support

this squadron has received thus far.  I have to admit that I've

never encountered this much resistance in forming or leading a

squadron in the RDF.  I'm not sure exactly why this is happening

but I want to assure you that this latest setback is *not* going

to stop this squadron from going operational *or* deploying on

schedule."  

     He paused to gauge their reaction.  Despite the few who

looked angry, they appeared to be receptive to his declaration of

continued effort.  In fact, they appeared down right prepared to

go the distance for the squadron.  That was good, he thought. 

Maybe this kind of adversity was just what they needed to come

together.

     "Captain Lynn and I are going to pay the Rehab Detachment a

little visit.  In the mean time, I expect you to get those...

those monstrosities in the hangar and out of sight.  We'll figure

out what to do with them later."

     "Sir?" Katherine said hesitantly.  "How do we move them?"

     "Use the powered hand movers," Jeff answered waving his hand

at the devices stored along the far wall.  They were little more

than t-bars with small electric motors that drove an attached

aircraft tire.  Once connected properly, the aircraft tire would

be in contact with the nose wheel of the Veritech and provide

just enough forward or backward motion to move the heavy fighter

at a slow walk.  Steering was done by pushing the t-bar left or

right.  It wasn't the easiest way to move an eighteen ton fighter

but it could be done.

     "But sir, what about the one with the flat tire?"

     "Improvise," Jeff growled, a little stronger than he meant. 

Chastising himself for being so hard on 'girls', he took a deep

breath to regain his quiet composure.  "The nose gear arrangement

on a Veritech has dual wheels.  Remove the flat one and use the

hand mover on the other tire.  If you go slow enough, you

shouldn't have any problem."

     Katherine glanced at the others before nodding.  "Yes, sir."

     "Alright," he said, clapping his hands once.  "Let's get at

it.  Captain Fox is in charge.  Get the fighters stowed and check

out the overhead hoist system.  I've got a feeling we're going to

need it."

     He didn't wait for a response.  Turning on his heel, he left

the hangar with Gail in his wake.  Behind him, he heard

Katherine's voice ringing above all the others, issuing

instructions and generally getting things organized.  He smiled

to himself.  She was growing into the Executive Officer position

quite well.  Learning how to lead takes time.  Some never get it

right.  Katherine, however, appeared to take to the role with

ease.



     They were halfway across base in Jeff's rover before Gail

rolled her head his way and asked: "Just what do you hope to

accomplish at the Rehab Detachment?"

     "Steve Friedman is an old friend of mine.  We taught at the

academy together.  If anyone knows what's going on, it'll be

him."

     Gail eyed Jeff critically.  "Can you trust him?"

     "Completely.  Outside of being - present company excepted -

the best wrench and socket man in the business, he's also plugged

into the shadow-net."

     "What's that?" Gail asked, brushing some loose hair from her

face.

     "Well, you know what the grapevine is?"  Gail nodded.  "The

shadow-net is sort of the same thing only it involves more

'spooks'," Jeff said referencing the common name for Intelligence

personnel in the military.

     "I get it.  He gets his information from better sources."

     "And vice-versa.  They use him as much as he uses them." 

Jeff chuckled.  "I always said he would have made a fine Intel

Officer if he wasn't so good at fixing things."

     Gail slumped deeper into the rover's bucket seat.  "Hope

he's a straight-shooter."

     "He always has been."



     The Rehab Detachment was located on an even more remote part

of the base than 13 Squadron.  If it wasn't for the faded signs

pointing the way, they might have missed it altogether.

     Turning onto a well-used gravel road flanked by tall weeds,

they soon came upon what would in better times have been called a

junk yard.  a pair of massive hangars and a series of smaller

workshops sat in front of the 'bone yard' of disabled, wrecked,

and abandoned mecha; some alien but most RDF issue.

     They parked next to a six-wheeled wrecker and cautiously got

out.  The place smelled of cleaning solvent and metal shavings

tinged with hints of paint and the distinctive odor of sun-baked

leather.  Jeff immediately began looking for Lt Col Friedman.

     He really wasn't all that hard to find.  Outside a recently

painted light blue cinder block workshop, Steve Friedman was

supervising a couple of young mechanics as they disassembled and

cleaned a supercharger.

     Steve's face lit up when he saw his old friend approaching. 

"Ah, Jeffrey," he crowed with a wide smile.  His white teeth

offsetting his dark complexion.  "I was wondering when you'd be

paying me a visit."

     "Then you'll understand when I punch you in the nose," Jeff

replied with a challenging look.

     Steve held his hands up.  "Whoa, big guy.  You got me all

wrong."

     "If those six rolling pieces of junk you had delivered are

your idea of a joke, I'll reconsider but only after you give me

the six I was promised."  Jeff stepped a little closer and was

rewarded by Steve's backward retreat.

     "You gotta let me explain," Steve said waving his hands back

and forth in front of him.

     "Better make it fast.  You're running out of room."  Jeff

walked a little faster, like he was actually going to attack his

old friend.  The two mechanics dropped the parts they were

working on and backed away.

     "I had no choice, Jeff," Steve protested.  He stopped his

retreat only when his back encountered the cinder block wall of

the workshop.

     "Why?  Why didn't you have any choice?"

     "I had my orders."

     That declaration caused Jeff to jerk to a halt.  "Orders? 

>From whom?"

     Steve licked his lips and cast a nervous look at the

mechanics that were still backing away, their eyes wide.  "Why

don't we finish this in my office?"  He held a hand up,

indicating a door leading into the nearby hangar.

     "After you," Jeff insisted.

     The balding master of the Rehab Detachment nodded with a

nervous grin and adjusted his glasses before turning towards the

hangar.  Gail slid up to Jeff but said nothing as they followed

Steve to his office.

     Inside, Steve closed the door and indicated a pair of worn

chairs in front of his desk.  His own chair, made out of a

Veritech ejection seat with a few castors attached, squeaked as

he settled his plump little body into it.

     "Now, just let me explain what happened," he said pulling

himself and his chair closer to the desk.  It squeaked in

protest.

     "Make it good," Jeff warned, collapsing into one of the

office chairs.  Gail wrinkled her nose at the condition of her

chair before settling uncomfortably onto its seat.

     "I had six good as new Veritechs sitting outside yesterday

afternoon.  This morning at 0700 we received an urgent request

for six Veritechs from the base in Australia."

     "My Veritechs," Jeff noted with an evil expression.

     Steve nodded.  "Yes, and the request had the highest

priority meaning they were to be delivered immediately."

     "How lucky you just happened to have six ready to go," Gail

noted with a sour look.

     "Right you are, young lady."  Steve hesitated when he caught

Gail's warning expression.  "Anyway, by 0800 six pilots showed up

to transport them to their assigned squadrons."

     "Okay, you had to fill an emergency request," Jeff said with

a shrug.  "Where's mine?"

     Steve took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.  Opening a

drawer on his desk, he glanced nervously at the glass windows

that overlooked the workings of the hangar.  "Oh, you know, how

things go," he said pulling a small box out of the drawer and

placing it on the desk.  "Veritechs are very hard to come by." 

He flipped a switch on the back of the box and watched as a

series of lights began to sequence back and forth along its top.

     With a heavy sigh, he slumped back into his chair.  "Good. 

Now we can talk freely."

     Gail eyed the box with its sequencing lights.  "What is that

thing?"

     "A scrambler.  It detects the frequencies of a bug and

matches its exact frequency sequence, rendering the device

useless," Steve answered with a tired smile.  "Five thousand

credits on the black market."

     "You've been dealing on the black market?" Gail gasped.

     "Sister, I get the parts I need however I can.  And if I

have to 'bend' a few rules now and then, what difference does it

make?" he asked with a shrug of his meaty shoulders.

     "Well, it looks like your spook friends have been taking

pretty good care of you," Jeff noted, his own eyes scanning the

room suspiciously.  "I'm curious just why you need such a thing?"

     "Jeff, right now Veritechs are very valuable.  Everyone

wants them and those that leave this facility do so under the

utmost security."

     "Like the ones for Australia?"

     "Curious thing about that.  After they took off, we tracked

them." Steve said leaning over the desk to look Jeff in the eyes. 

"They flew north."

     "Funny way to get to Australia."

     "I'll say."  Steve rocked back in his massive seat.  "What's

even more interesting is the request didn't come through normal

channels."

     "Then where did it come from?"



     Steve chuckled.  "I had Tommy trace all the network jumps

the request took back to its point of origin.  It came from a

computer located in the Cultural Affairs Office of the new World

Government.  Funny place for Veritech requisitions, don't you

think?"

     "I'll say," Jeff replied.

     "I doubt there ever was a real need for those fighters in

Australia."

     "Then why the request?" Jeff asked.  He already knew the

answer.

     "To keep them away from you," Steve said with a yawn.  "At

the risk of further inflating your already over-inflated ego,

you're something they fear."

     "Me?  Why would they fear me?"

     "Simple.  You're one of the 'old guard'.  You know, one of

the guys who still has a sense of duty and honor.  You're just

lousy with it."  Steve grinned.

     "Okay, I'm a nice guy.  Big deal.  Why should that scare the

big shots up at Monument City?"

     Steve shook his head with a pitiful look at Jeff.  Turning

to Gail, he asked: "Has he always been this naive?"

     "No more than I am," she responded with a frown.  "I believe

he asked a legitimate question."

     Steve sighed.  "I suppose he did.  There's things happening

in the Arkansas Protectorate that shouldn't be happening.  RDF

aircraft have been disappearing, Destroids along the border get

picked off, and a small number of unauthorized flights have been

tracked going in and out of the area.  On the surface, it all

looks like accidents, small-time bandits, or penny-ante

smugglers.  You know, the usual."

     "Isn't it?" Jeff asked.

     "Certain individuals in the Cultural Affairs department have

been living rather well as of late.  There's a new drug on the

streets in Monument City and New Detroit.  Civil authorities are

at a loss to explain where it's coming from and our people are

suspicious but can't prove a thing.  You do the math."

     "So, what's all this got to do with 13 Squadron?" Gail

asked.

     "Your squadron is scheduled to take over a base in the one

place that could put a severe crimp in someone's drug running

plans."

     "No Veritech squadron means no one watching the stuff come

over the border."  Jeff turned to Steve.  "Am I warm?"

     "Couldn't have said it better myself," Steve replied with a

grin.  "That base fills a gap in the RDF defense perimeter.  They

will find smuggling drugs through York to the east or the Okie

territories to the west impossible unless they initiate some kind

of military action.  The Yorkies will just shoot them down and

the Oakies will hijack them for the cargos.  Not good for

business."

     Jeff rocked back in his seat and rubbed his face.  "And I

thought all we'd have to deal with was the militant Yorkies,

renegade Zentraedi, and the odd high-tech bandit."

     "This still doesn't address our lack of Veritechs," Gail

noted.  "We need those birds."

     Steve took a deep breath and checked his little electronic

gizmo.  Satisfied their conversation was still private, he looked

at Gail.  "Well, I can get you four."

     "Four like the six you sent over this morning?  No thanks,"

Gail growled, adding a disgusted look.

     "No," Steve said with a chuckle.  "You ever hear of Lone

Rock?"

     "Yeah, it's a deactivated emergency base up in the hills

somewhere," Jeff said thoughtfully, stroking his chin.  "It's

supposed to be abandoned."

     "Supposed to be but isn't," Steve said pulling a folder out

of his desk.  "I've been piecing together Veritechs, mostly 'J'

models, using parts we claim were junked and some odds and ends

from the black market.  I always knew they would come in handy. 

They're yours if you want them."

     Casting an unsure glance at Gail, Jeff cleared his throat

and asked: "Are they flyable?"

     "Flyable?  Jeff old buddy, they're better than new.  Plus, I

dropped in a few modifications of my own.  Nothing special, just

targeting computers intended for the new VF-4 that got shipped

here by mistake and my own version of the new Tactical Life

Support System."  Steve locked his hands behind his bald head and

beamed.  "The Stonewell Bellcom unit is okay but it only protects

a pilot up to 9G's.  Mine will take you to twelve."

     Jeff's low whistle caused the Rehab Detachment master to bob

his eyebrows.  "That would make it possible to stop in mid-flight

and turn on a dime."

     "And give you a nickel change," Steve added with a satisfied

look.

     "Why are you doing this?" Gail asked suspiciously.

     "Simple.  I don't like what's happening to the RDF, I know

your Colonel will make good use of them, and..."  He paused to

take a deep breath.  "I've got a feeling we're not going to be

around much longer.  I don't fly Veritechs and I certainly don't

want the ASC to get their hands on them."

     "What about serial numbers?  I have to account where I got

them from," Jeff asked.

     "Why do you think I sent those wrecks over this morning? 

Just take the numbers off of four of them and paint 'em on the

four from Lone Rock and leave the wrecks behind in your hangar

when you move.  By the time the folks up in Monument City figure

it out, it'll be too late."  Steve shifted around in his seat and

put his feet on the desk.  He was obviously enjoying putting

something over on the new World Government masters.

     "Well, that's four more than we started with," Gail said

hopefully.  "Thanks."

     "Sweetheart, I don't know how much longer I'm going to be in

charge of this here junk yard but if you ever need a part, just

give me a call and I'll send a truck your way."  He winked at

Gail.  "Of course, it won't be overnight or nothin' but I'll get

it there."

     Jeff stood up and extended a hand.  "Steve, I don't know how

to thank you."

     As they shook hands, Steve grinned and turned off his little

scrambler.  "Still feel like punching me in the nose?"

     "Not even a slap on your shiny bald head," Jeff said with a

grin of his own.

     When Gail extended her hand, Steve took it and gently raised

it to his lips.  "Sure you wouldn't rather stay here with me,

dahlin?  You'd certainly brighten up the place."

     Gail blushed and cast him a wary look.  "I'd better not. 

There's too many I need to take care of as it is."

     "Ah, pity," Steve sighed, working his way out from behind

the desk.  "I'll bet you could field strip an inducer pump in ten

minutes flat."

     "Seven," Gail corrected.

     Steve looked impressed.  "Hang on to this one," he said to

Jeff.  "The best any of my monkeys can do is twenty."

     "Got any of those 'monkeys' that want a transfer?" Jeff

asked as they walked to the door.  

     "Naw, they're too comfortable working for me," Steve

answered before his face lit up with a big smile.  "Hey, are you

still looking for pilots?"

     Jeff and Gail jerked to a halt.  "You got any?" Jeff asked.

     "Well, I've got one," Steve admitted.  "Pretty good too. 

She's been shuttling around Veritechs, Falcon fighters, and just

about anything with wings.  She's only been doing it alone for a

couple of months but, wow, is she good."

     "Sounds promising," Jeff said with a glance at Gail.

     "Now, I know you probably don't want a girl pilot in your

squadron but this one's special.  Just last week she was ferrying

a Veritech back from the Panama Canal Zone when one of the

variable geometry wings flat fell off in transition."  He paused

at Jeff's stunned reaction.  "Yeah, I know, she should have

punched out but this kid's tough.  I don't know how she did it

but somehow she transitioned into Guardian and saved the fighter

using the foot thrusters alone.  Once down, she skated the junker

home."

     "Pretty gutsy thing to do," Jeff admitted.

     "Yeah, that's her strength AND her weakness.  She's young

and head-strong.  Takes her flying real personal-like."

     "I can handle that," Jeff answered with a look towards Gail.

     "There's also one other little thing," Steve said, leaning

in closer and looking around like he didn't exactly want to be

overheard.  "Now, you know I'm not into all this 'ethnicity'

business.  Heck, who am I to judge.  I've got a Jewish father and

an African mother.  But I gotta warn you she's one of them native

girls from out east."

     "East?" Gail asked.

     "Yeah, about a hundred miles or so.  They call themselves

'Lakota'."  Steve winced at the mention like he was embarrassed

having to say it.  "Nice kid but I just can't figure out those

people.  Kinda spooky, if you ask me."

     Jeff caught Gail's quiet smile.  "I'm sure we can somehow

fit her in."

     "That's great," Steve gushed like a relieved man.  "She's

been bugging me for a transfer to an operational squadron since

Christmas.  I would have honored her request except... well,

she's kinda young."

     "How young?" Jeff asked with narrowed eyes.

     "Despite what her papers say, she turns sixteen next week."

     Jeff made a pained expression and softly said: "Ho boy."

     "She's prepping a Falcon for delivery now if you want to

meet her." 

     "Why not?" Gail said, deciding for Jeff.

     Jeff shrugged and let Steve lead the way.  Why not?  It

wasn't as if he'd agreed yet or anything.

     They had just reached the tarmac bordering the facility when

Steve called out to one of the people clustered around the nose

gear of a Falcon fighter.  The figure wagged her finger at one of

the others before, helmet in hand, she turned to acknowledge her

CO.

     Steve was certainly correct when he called her young.  She

looked like a pre-war junior high school student.  Wearing a

flight suit two sizes too large for her slender body, she clomped

towards them in boots that made her feet look big.  Her dark

hair, streaked dirty blonde, was restrained in a pony tail and

further bound by a soiled white headband.  a set of headphones

connected to a new-looking CD player hugged her ears.  As she

walked, her head bobbed in time to the music coming from a CD

player connected to her flightsuit webbing and her jaw worked an

oversized wad of gum.  When she reached Jeff and the others, she

pulled off the headphones and looked at Gail like she was in the

presence of royalty.  Faint strains of what back in the twentieth

century used to be called 'acid rock' came from her headphones.

     "Anne, this is Colonel Stuart and Captain Lynn," Steve said. 

"They represent a new squadron across the base who's looking for

pilots."

     "Cool," the girl gushed around her gum.  "You got

Veritechs?"

     "Well," Gail began.  "We're working on it."

     "You fly combat?" she asked Jeff.

     "I've been there."

     "Way cool."

     There was an uncomfortable silence as the three tried to

interpret Anne's last pronouncement.  It seemed positive.

     Gail hoping for further clarification, glanced between the

two bewildered-looking males and ended with a smile Anne's way. 

"So... would you be interested in joining our squadron?"

     "Colonel Friedman?" she asked with pleading, little girl

eyes.

     Steve chuckled.  "It's what you wanted, Anne."

     She glanced back at the rebuilt fighter and the two young

men going over their checklist.  "I guess so but what about the

bird?"

     "Michael will take it.  Anne, all you've talked about for

six months is transferring to an operational squadron.  You've

been begging for it.  Here's your chance."  He paused at Anne's

distressed expression.  "Naturally, you don't have to go but this

is probably the last chance you'll get."

     The girl stopped chomping on her gum and lowered her eyes. 

"Yeah, I guess so.  But what about you?  I don't want to leave

you short."

     Steve patted her shoulder.  "You're not leaving me short. 

I've still got Michael and Kurt."

     She glanced between Jeff and Gail like they were adoptive

parents.  "You think I should?" she asked.

     "Anne, I'm telling you to get out of here before you don't

have a choice.  Colonel Stuart is an old friend.  He's one of the

good ones."  He looked up at Jeff.  "You could do a lot worse."

     "How about reporting tomorrow?" Jeff suggested, adding a

friendly smile.

     Steve sniffed like a father sending his daughter into the

cold, cruel world.  With almost a painful smile he said: "Why

don't you get your things and report this afternoon?  I'm sure

Colonel Stuart won't mind giving you a ride."

     The girl, still mulling over what all this meant, shrugged

without looking up.  "'Kay."  Slipping the headphones back on her

head, she slowly slid between Steve and the others, heading

towards the Rehab Detachment's locker room; her head bobbing with

every step.

     "Interesting girl," Jeff said, once the shock had worn off

at seeing such a non-military person in uniform.  She was even

worse than Gloria.

     "Yeah, I know.  She's not very regulation," Steve said

apologetically.

     "She's not even 'optional issue'," Gail corrected.  "Where

did you find her?"

     "She was kinda like a prize in a box of Cracker Jacks,"

Steve said, rubbing the back of his head.  "A couple of years

ago, we picked up an old abandoned MAC II up north.  When we

cracked open the crew compartment, there she was.  As near as we

could tell, she'd been living in it."

     "So why is she still here?" Gail asked.

     "That's even a stranger story.  At first, I was just going

to toss her off base.  You know, unauthorized civilian and all

that.  Well, she begged to stay, saying she had nowhere else to

go.  Made it real convincing.  Since it was the dead of winter.

What could I do?"

     Jeff cast a glance the direction the girl had taken.  "What

about her family?"

     "What family?" Steve said with a shrug.  "She claims her

family are all dead and she's been alone for years."

     "Poor thing," Gail said softly.  Orphans tended to bring out

the mother in her.

     "Anyway, we had a small unused room in the back of the

electronics workshop.  So, I let her bunk there and put her to

work cleaning up around the place."  Steve smiled like a dark,

balding Santa.  "When she demonstrated a gift for diagnosing

electronic problems, I let her hang out with Sparky and the gang;

fixing and installing gizmos in the rebuilds."

     "How long did that last?" Jeff asked.

     "Till someone from HQ caught wind of it.  He turned out to

be a good guy, though.  Had her enlist as a Corporal - you know,

under those old RDF field enlistment rules."  Steve beamed. 

"She's getting a regular paycheck and everything.  Naturally, we

had to lie about her age."

     "Well, that explains the mini-CD player," Jeff said with a

sigh.  "How did she learn to fly?"

     "That was the easy part," Steve replied.  "You remember ole'

Earl 'Tex' Boyd?"

     "Yeah, he was a flight leader in Gold Squadron up in the

Yukon somewhere."  Jeff got a warm feeling hearing the late

Texan's name.  They had more than a few rowdy nights together in

local bars when they both flew for Tiger Squadron.  The man was a

rare combination of brains and brawn marred only by a hair

trigger to insults about his part of the country.  Drinking only

made him more volatile.  The man flew in cowboy boots and kept a

Stetson in the cockpit to wear while taxing in from a mission.  a

real character.

     Jeff's pleasant recollections were only marred with the

memory of how the man died defending his new homestead down near

the gulf from a bunch of bandits.  He had been only two months

into retirement when it happened.

     "Ole' Tex wasn't the same after they replaced both his legs. 

Couldn't fly combat anymore.  So, while he served out the

remainder of his time working for me, shuttling aircraft around. 

Started taking little Anne with him when she expressed an

interest in flying.  He taught her everything he knew.  Made her

study the books as well.  She hated that part but did it anyway. 

Anything to keep flying.  After the RDF released him last fall,

she took over the business, so to speak."

     They started walking back towards the hangars, Steve giving

an impromptu guided tour of the facility along the way.  By the

time they reached Jeff's rover, he knew the complete history of

the Rehab Detachment and the types of things it was capable of.

     "Oh, before you leave," Steve said with a snap of his

fingers.  "I found something I think you'd like to have."

     Jeff looked at Gail before asking what it was but their

chubby little host had already disappeared into one of the

massive hangars.

     "What do you suppose he's up to?" Gail asked, squinting into

the hangar's interior.

     "Who knows?" Jeff answered with a shrug.  "He's always

finding odd little trinkets and stuff.  Three years ago, he found

Jennifer's flight helmet in a box of stuff they were going to

recycle.  Gave it to me for Christmas."

     "Quite a guy," Gail said softly.

     "His whole life is the RDF.  If they shut him down..."  Jeff

took a deep breath and shuddered to think of what would become of

the his friend should the RDF decide he wasn't needed anymore.

     "Maybe, you could get him for the Squadron?"

     "As what?"  He shot Gail an amused look.  "I'd have to make

him the Maintenance Officer, at least."

     "Oh, well, in that case..."  Gail smiled back with an

exaggerated sweet look.

     "Right.  My wife would never forgive me."

     Steve stepped back out into the sunlight holding something

behind his back.  From Jeff's angle, it appeared to be a two foot

square sheet of metal.

     "We were breaking up a couple of old birds for scrap last

week and this caught my eye."  Steve turned the artifact around

and held it up.  "Just thought you might like to have it."

     On a white background was the faded image of an old cavalry

soldier astride his charger in full gallop and holding his saber

forward in a full charge.  Behind him, painted in exact detail,

appeared an old Confederate battle flag.

     Jeff's jaw dropped.  "Where did you find this?"

     Steve handed the sheet to his friend and shrugged.  "Here in

the grave yard of forgotten aircraft we see lots of unique

things.  I understand this was taken off a Falcon fighter that

saw action in Hawaii."

     "That was twenty years ago," Jeff said, more to himself than

the others.  He couldn't believe it survived all these years.

     "Yeah, well, I guess they forgot to tell you how that

particular fighter was rebuilt and used by the Civil Defense

Flying Corps.  The guy who had the bird last musta liked that

picture because they didn't paint over it."

     Jeff just stared at the nose art that once adorned his last

fighter in the Global Civil War.  He had it done after his

grandfather reminded him of his famous ancestor; the greatest

American cavalry general in history and his namesake: J.E.B.

Stuart, CSA.

     "Thank you," he said self-consciously.

     Steve placed a meaty hand on Jeff's shoulder.  "Use it as a

guide when they paint you a new one on your next Veritech."  He

leaned closer.  "And you be careful out there.  I'm losing too

many old friends.  I gotta have someone to sponge off of when I'm

old and unwanted.  Besides, you promised to teach me that fishing

stuff."

     Jeff chuckled at the reminder of their first, and last,

fishing trip at a nearby stream.  In less than an hour, Steve

hooked a bush, the rover, and even his own pants before giving up

in disgust.  It was then Jeff figured out his friend was no

outdoorsman.

     Steve turned to Gail.  "And you can visit me anytime,

sweetheart."

     Gail chuckled halfheartedly.  "I'll be in touch," she said. 

Catching his wink she added: "For parts only."

     Steve just shrugged.  "I'll settle for that."

     "Hey, Steve!" called a technician from one of the workshops. 

"You wanna take a look at this?  Carlos thinks it's shot but I'm

not so sure."

     Lt Col Friedman shook his head and chuckled.  "Never a dull

moment."  Turning again to Jeff he said with a smile: "One more

bit of advice; have your office swept.  If they're listening to

me, they're surely listening to you."

     "Count on it," Jeff replied with a look at Gail.

     With a grunt of acknowledgment, Steve started for the

workshop.  Waving as he walked, he said loudly: "And watch your

six."

     "Can do," Jeff replied before lowering his voice so only he

and Gail could hear.  "And you do the same, old friend."

     Jeff put the sheet of aircraft skin in the back of his rover

and stared out at the distant airfield.  "Maybe I am getting too

old.  It used to be so simple; just fight the bad guys and don't

worry about anything else.  Now we have to avoid getting screwed

by our own people."

     "Hey, it's not that bad," Gail said, leaning in close enough

so he could smell her perfume.  He made a note to remind her

about regulations on fragrances.

     "I wish I had your confidence.  I'm beginning to wonder if I

did the right thing taking this squadron."

     "If you didn't, they would have found someone else.  You've

got people counting on you."

     "That's what I'm worried about.  Look how long it took me to

figure out what was happening.  Am I really someone they should

be counting on?"

     Gail snorted and rolled her eyes.  "Jeffrey, you're

*exactly* what those girls need."

     "Now who's calling them 'girls'?" he softly chided.

     Gail's reaction was a roll of her eyes and elbow in his

ribs.

     Little Anne appeared outside one of the workshops, looking

like a lost waif.  Her jaw continued to nervously work the wad of

gum in her mouth as she glanced around like she was unsure what

to do next.  She'd changed into a duty uniform that almost fit

her.  Jeff stifled a chuckle at how it made her look.  The skirt

hung low over her bare legs, ending below her knees.  Her uniform

tunic looked more like it belonged on her; the sleeves were the

right length and it fit around her almost flat torso.  On her

head, the well-worn headband had been replaced by a bright red

ball cap with the Rehab Detachment's spider symbol adorning its

front.

     "Ready to go?" Jeff called.

     The girl hesitated and looked around again like this was

going to be the last time she would ever see the only real home

she'd ever had.  With a noticeable sigh, she picked up her

pitifully small bag, supposedly containing all her worldly

possessions, and trudged towards them.

     "She's gonna need a real mother's touch," Jeff said softly

to Gail.

     "Then I hope your wife's up to it.  Because 'Momma' ain't in

my job description," Gail said back.

     Jeff took Anne's tiny bag and worried it into the back end

of his rover.  All the while, she said nothing but kept casting

curious glances at both Jeff and Gail.  Each time Gail responded

with an encouraging smile while Jeff tried to maintain his

command bearing.  He reminded himself he shouldn't change his

relationship with his squadron members just because they happen

to be girls... er, women.



*****



     "Well, we're finally done," Samantha said, wiping her brow

with the back of a hand.  "I've never done such physical work in

my life."

     "Even when you had to unload your own transport?" Katherine

asked.

     "Nope.  I just opened up the back and gunned the engines."

     They laugh at the image of a big transport lumbering down

the tarmac, spilling its contents out the back as it went.  

     That ended when Daisy sidled up next to them.  "Trouble,"

she said with a serious look, indicating movement in the distance

with a jerk of her chin.

     The Fox sisters squinted at the vehicles approaching, their

ears straining for clues of the vehicles' identity.  Some of the

other squadron members drifted towards the massive open doors

when they noticed the interest shown by the Foxes.

     Quickly, the figures grew in size and the unmistakable whine

of hovercraft engines reached their ears.  There was only one

service that extensively used hovercraft.

     "GMP," Daisy snarled.

     "How'd *they* get on base?" Samantha asked, looking to her

sister for answers.

     "I have no idea but we better get the obvious targets under

cover."  Katherine turned to look for Missy only to find the girl

standing right behind her, wearing a look of defiance.

     "I'm not running anymore," Missy said in a low voice.

     Glancing between the approaching GMP vehicles and the

resolute Missy, Katherine sighed and said: "Well, at least, let's

not make it easy for them.  Move deeper in the hanger and stay

out of sight."  She looked back at the approaching threat. 

"We'll handle these guys."

     Reluctantly, Missy did as she was told.  She'd stay out of

sight, for now, but it wouldn't take much to draw her out,

especially if there was any trouble.

     Katherine turned to the others and eyed them critically. 

"Let me do the talking.  I don't want any trouble but they're not

getting Lt Robins."

     "I'm glad to hear that," Nancy said with a serious scowl at

the GMP vehicles.  "However,  I should point out that they're

probably packing some serious firepower."

     Katherine looked to Daisy.  "Do any of the lasers on our

rolling junkyard work?"

     "No power," Daisy said with a disgusted shake of her head.

     Wiping her hands on a large rag, Ona Parino wandered up to

stare out the hangar.  "Watch out for their stunners," she said

in a low monotone.  She was referring to the GMP's latest

horseshoe-shaped toy.  They were deceptively innocent-looking

weapons.  By pointing the open end towards a target, pressing a

thumb button would send a short but intense disrupter charge that

affected the target's central nervous system.  The victim, if

lucky, would just pass out.  If unlucky, there was usually a mess

to clean up once they woke.

     The squadron formed a united line behind Katherine, blocking

the shortest routes into their hangar.  The tougher ones, like

Nancy and Daisy, crossed their arms in a defiant manner while

other, less aggressive members just tried to look equally

resolute without all the posturing.

     The GMP hovercraft slowed when they got to the squadron's

tarmac and coasted up to the hangar's entrance.  Their engines

howling as they spun down, the vehicles settled softly onto the

concrete.

     Before the last whine of engines died away, side hatches on

the vehicles sprung open and a half dozen black-clad and helmeted

GMP security officers hurriedly assumed positions in front of the

hangar.  For now, at least, no weapons were displayed; relying

instead on their sheer intimidating appearance to assure

cooperation.

     When the last GMP man was in place, the hatch on the lead

hovercraft hissed open and an imposing figure, also dressed in

GMP black and gray, stepped into the open.  Removing his crested

helmet, he strode confidently up to Katherine and announced: "I'm

Major Marcus McKinney, Army of the Southern Cross Global Military

Police - Special Investigations Unit - Internal Security."

     He paused as if to make sure everyone in the hangar had time

to truly appreciate his magnificence.  All he got was Daisy's

groan of 'not again'.

     "Welcome, Major," Katherine said politely, ignoring Daisy's

reaction.  "To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?"

     "I'm here for the girl," he announced, his voice echoing in

the massive hangar.

     Katherine looked around behind her at the squadron before

turning back to the Major.  "I'm afraid you'll have to be more

specific."

     "I'm looking for Lt M.J. Robins.  We know she's been

assigned to this squadron.  The Army of the Southern Cross wants

her for questioning."

     "And for what reason would the ASC have for questioning and

RDF officer?" Katherine asked, her voice tinged with indignation.

     Maj McKinney's eyes narrowed.  "This girl took part in a

mutiny in which an ASC General was murdered.  Until proven

otherwise, she's an accessory to that murder."

     "I understand she's already been questioned about the mutiny

by RDF Security.  Perhaps if you were to inquire with them.  I'm

certain they'd be most happy to share what they've learned,"

Katherine said in a reasonable manner.  She looked past the Major

to see other vehicles fast approaching.  It was beginning to get

crowded in their little corner of Yellowstone.

     "You will turn over the girl.  NOW!" the Major barked.  His

men responded by drawing their weapons.  As Ona warned, they were

the newest versions of the standard GMP stunners.

     Katherine planted her fists on her shapely hips and glared

at the Major, daring him to try and take the Lieutenant in

question.

     Ona moved next to her Executive Officer and crossed her

arms.  "The matter is closed.  Lt Robins stays," she said in the

same low monotone as before.  Her expression promised there would

be no compromises today.

     The Major's response was interrupted by a pair of wheeled

RDF Security armored rovers stopping behind his hovercraft.  The

door on one opened and a very agitated Captain O'Riley bounded

out.

     "Just what the hell is going on here?" he demanded stomping

up to the confrontation just inside 13 Squadron's hangar.

     "This is no concern of yours," the Major claimed in his

arrogant manner.

     "Like hell.  I let you get away with that crap before

because I was ordered to cooperate.  But you're on *my* turf now. 

Nobody comes on *my* base and arrests RDF people unless *I* say

so."  Capt O'Riley's cubby little body shook with rage.

     The Major, however, wasn't so easy to impress.  "The GMP

goes where it wants and does what its ordered," he said calmly

without looking at O'Riley.

     "Not here," the Captain snarled.

     The two security men glared at each other, each waiting for

the other to back down.  When it became obvious this was going to

be a stalemate, Capt O'Riley upped the ante.  With a snap of his

fingers, the laser turrets on the RDF Security rovers hummed,

drawing a bead on the GMP men and vehicles.

     "Your move, Major," he said.

     Maj McKinney looked over his shoulder at the rovers

threatening him and his men.  Turning back to O'Riley, he

growled: "You wouldn't dare."

     "Try me."

     The two glared at each other, each determined to make the

other back down.

     "It won't look good if you have to shoot your way out,"

Katherine noted.  "And that's exactly what you'll have to do to

get Lt Robins."

     The Major shot Katherine a warning look before turning back

to O'Riley.  "Very well, Captain.  You win - this time."

     He barked an order and his men scrambled to mount their

vehicles.  Maj McKinney glared at each of the gathered squadron

members, saving his most threatening expression for Capt O'Riley,

before climbing into his hovercraft and ordering it to move.

     A scream of engines, a blast of warm air and the GMP

vehicles sped off, leaving a cheering group of relieved 13

Squadron members and a still sweating Capt O'Riley.

     "Good job," Samantha crowed, patting the Captain on his

broad back.  His reaction, however shocked the women into

silence.

     "I didn't do it for you," he snarled.  "I don't like you

people.  You made a monkey of me back at that mission."  He

looked around at each of the women.  "I won't forget that.  As

far as I'm concerned, the sooner you renegades are off my base,

the better."

     Turning on a heel, he stomped back towards his rover.

     "You come back anytime, Captain," Katherine called.  "Maybe

next time we'll show you how hospitable we can be."

     Capt O'Riley paused in the open door to his rover and stared

at Katherine like he was trying to determine if she was putting

him on or not.  Without a word, he slipped inside and slammed

shut the hatch.

     The RDF Security rovers growled to life and quickly set off

the same direction as the GMP.  

     "Well, I guess you can't always choose your heros," Ona said

philosophically.

     "Good thing he showed up or they would have taken Missy,"

Katherine acknowledged with a nod.  As if invoking the

Lieutenant's name reminded her, she began looking around.  "By

the way, just where is Lt Robins?"

     The object of her concern slowly emerged from behind a

crate.  Clutching a wicked-looking Colt Defender handgun and

wearing an expression that reeked of lethality, she stepped into

the light.

     "Nice piece," Nancy said, leaning against another crate with

her arms crossed.  "Yours?"

     Missy's expression moderated only slightly as she unzipped

her flight suit and thrust the weapon back into its holster

nestled in the curve of her shapely waist.  "I don't leave things

to chance anymore."

     Nancy grinned, pulling up the back of her uniform tunic and

drawing her own chrome-plated Beretta.  "My kind of girl."

     Katherine frowned at the exposed hardware before turning to

Daisy.  "And you?"

     Daisy sighed.  "Oh, hell."  Unzipping her flight suit enough

to expose her bra, she pulled out a Glock 33 and held it up with

a shrug.

     "There's enough room in there to hide a cannon," Virginia

snorted.  Daisy's glare caused her to grin an retrieve her own,

Walther PPK.  "Hey, a girl's gotta protect herself."

     "With that?" Daisy said disdainfully.

     "It looks small but packs a punch," Virginia shot back. 

"Like me."

     A general chuckle ringed the group as, one at a time, each

produced their own weapon.  Katherine stared at them, her mouth

open.  "Am I the only one unarmed?" she gasped.

     Daisy reached over and patted her on the shoulder.  "That's

okay.  You did all the talkin'."

     "Yeah, they would have gotten one shot and we would have

dropped the bunch," Gloria crowed, brandishing an odd-looking

pistol she retrieved from the top of another crate.  It was so

large she had to hold it in both hands.

     "You would have shot it out with the GMP?"  Katherine looked

between Daisy and the others, clearly astounded at their

audacity.

     "It didn't come to that," Daisy insisted, like she was

dismissing the entire matter.  "But we were ready just in case."

     "Where did you get all those?" Katherine demanded, her hands

going to her hips.

     Everyone looked at Cindy.  With a trapped expression she

confessed.  "Ona and I just... borrowed them from the Armory. 

Really."

     Katherine's frown turned itself on the unconcerned-looking

Zentraedi.  "You stole these weapons?"

     Ona gave no outward expression to the question.  "I don't

think 'stolen' would accurately describe what we did."

     "We filled out the forms.  I had to do twenty-two before

they'd even talk to me," Cindy said in a plaintive voice.  "And

all I got for that was a promise to see what they had available. 

Well, there were two cases on the dock out back.  So, I kept

filling out forms while Ona - I mean, Capt Parino - loaded them

into the truck."

     "Truck?  What truck?  We don't have a truck."  Katherine

couldn't believe what she was hearing.

     "We do now," Cindy insisted, like it should have been

obvious.

     "Where did you get a truck?"

     "The Motor Pool," Ona said matter-of-factly.

     "Yeah, we filled out the papers and everything," Cindy

added.  "It's really ours now."  She turned to Daisy.  "Isn't

it?"

     Katherine followed Cindy's gaze and challenged the big

Lakota with her frown.

     "Well, it *officially* belongs to 32 Squadron," Daisy

admitted with a sheepish expression.  "I used my old ID Card and

codes provided by Gloria."

     All eyes turned to the chubby little techie who squirmed and

hugged the pistol to her chest.  "It wasn't hard.  I mean, I've

been breaking into their computer system for months.  They've got

the coolest games and -"

     "Enough," Katherine demanded, raising her hand.  "I'm not

sure I really want to know."

     "Good idea," Samantha said with a smile while she twirled

her pistol on a finger.  "That way they can't prove you know

anything about the heist."

     "You too?"  Katherine had never seen this side of her

sister.  As far as she knew, Samantha had never even fired a hand

gun before.

     "Why not?"  The younger Fox sister grinned as she twirled

the Browning 40 like a pro.  "It's the ultimate in feminine

protection."

     Laughter ringed the group until they saw the weapon fly off

Samantha's finger.  Time froze as it tumbled towards the floor. 

Striking the concrete, it went of with an ear-shattering 'bang'.

     The round ricocheted off barrels, steel trusses, and

concrete as the squadron ducked and threw themselves on the dirty

hangar floor.

     It finally ended when the bullet smacked into the canopy of

the VF-1S, cracking it like an eggshell.

     "YOU IDIOT!" Daisy screamed, springing to her feet.

     "You could have hurt somebody!" Nancy added, wiping hangar

floor crap from her hands.

     "Look what you did to my uniform!" Virginia moaned.  "It's a

mess."

     Bedlam ruled as everyone yelled objections, complained about

the results, and generally bitched about everything.  Virginia's

distress was only intensified when Daisy wiped her dirty hands on

her sleeve.  With a wail, Virginia scrambled for the office and

the restroom inside.

     "That wasn't necessary," Ona admonished with a frown.

     "No, but it was fun," Daisy replied.

     Katherine grabbed her sister by the collar.  "Montoya!"

     "Yes, ma'am."

     "You.  Her.  Range.  Tomorrow."

     "Yes, ma'am."

     With a warning look at her sister, Katherine added: "If

you're going to handle a firearm, you're going to learn the

proper way."

     Miserable, Samantha just nodded.





     Jeff stopped his rover just in time to avoid being

broadsided by a trio of GMP hovercraft speeding through the

intersection, heading towards the main gate.

     "What are *they* doing here?" Gail asked, leaning forward in

her seat to get a better look.

     "Beats me," Jeff replied, checking both ways to see if there

were any other vehicles approaching.  "But they sure are doing it

in a hurry."

     "I thought you said they weren't allowed on base."

     Jeff squinted at the receding vehicles and shrugged.  "I

thought that's what Rolf said."  He glanced at Gail.  "Of course,

since he's gone up to Monument City, anything could happen."

     "I wonder if..."  Gail's voice trailed off as the color in

her face drained.  "Missy!" she gasped.

     Jeff knew what she meant.  If the GMP was coming from his

squadron's area, they were no doubt still hunting for Lt Robins. 

Their haste either meant they already had her or were following a

hot lead.  Either way, it wasn't anything good for the

Lieutenant.

     He started to turn onto the road leading to 13 Squadron's

area but slammed on the brakes, causing the rover to slide to a

halt.  What if they *already* had Lt Robins?  He cast a worried

look up the road the GMP vehicles had taken.  He knew his rover

was no match for their hovercraft, their top speed was almost

double what he could coax out of his vehicle.

     "What's the matter?" Gail asked anxiously, her pretty face

screwed into a worried frown.

     "What if they already...," he said anxiously, still staring

at the road the GMP vehicles took.

     "You think they got her?"

     Jeff hesitated.  "I don't know."

     "There's one way to find out," Gail said, pulling out her

own cell phone.

     It took only a moment for the connection to go through.  She

listened to the phone ring for a few moments, her eyes tightly

closed.  "Come on, you guys.  Answer the phone," she said.

     A dozen rings later, she looked at Jeff, her worried

expression telling him everything he needed to know.  Something

was wrong.

     That was all he needed to know.  Urging his aging vehicle

onto the road towards 13 Squadron, he accelerated quickly.  He

had to find out.

     He'd just gotten the vehicle up to speed when a pair of RDF

Security rovers rounded a blind corner in front of him.

     "Hang on!" he yelled, yanking the wheel over hard left and

forcing his vehicle onto the very edge of the shoulder.

     His rover fish-tailed once before straightening out and

launching itself back onto the road.  The nearest Security

vehicle darted left to avoid a collision only to bang into the

side of its companion, sending it off the road and into a

bordering field of weeds.  It bounced once and spun to a halt.

     Regaining control of his own vehicle, Jeff glanced in the

mirror in time to see a pudgy little Security officer bounding

out of his vehicle and angrily waving his arms.

     "I think you made him mad," Anne yelled over the roar of the

rover's engine.  Turning to look out the back window, she stuck

her thumbs in her ears and wiggled her fingers.  "Nyaaa-nyaaa, ya

pig!" she yelled.  Turning back she grinned while still chomping

her gum.  "I always wanted to do that."

     "I'm sure he'll take it well," Gail replied, looking around

all the stuff in the back to see if the other rover was turning

around.  It wasn't.

     "Will you two stop baiting them?" Jeff yelled.  "We've got

enough troubles."

     Gail rocked over against the door and crossed her arms. 

"Well, it's all your fault."

     "MY fault?"

     "Are we almost there?  I've got to go potty," Anne moaned in

a plaintive voice.

     "You should have gone before we left," Gail said in a

motherly way.

     "I know."  Anne sounded like an adolescent who'd been in the

car too long.  "It's hot back here."

     Gail smiled.  "I'll roll down a window."

     Jeff just gripped the wheel harder.  It suddenly occurred to

him exactly why he and Kay never had kids.



     When 13 Squadron's massive hangar came into view.  He urged

the rover to go a little faster.  He had to know about Lt Robins.

     "Slow down, dear," Gail said in a calm voice.  "Whether Lt

Robins is there or not won't change if we arrive a minute or two

later."

     A minute or two later?  Jeff flashed an annoyed look her

way.  a minute or two is a life time in combat.  He couldn't see

how it was any different in this situation.  If they'd arrived a

minute or two earlier, he might have stopped them taking Missy

altogether. 

     He slid his rover into the assigned parking spot and looked

back over her shoulder at the now empty tarmac.  With a satisfied

grunt, he opened his door and got out.  At least, the girls did

as they were told, he thought.  Besides, having those hunks of

junk in front of his headquarters didn't look good.

     Gail helped Anne get her bag and shepherded the young girl

into the office to complete her transfer papers.  Jeff, however,

bounded towards the hangar. He had to know about Missy.

     Just inside the hangar's massive doors, he found Katherine

conferring with Daisy and Nancy.

     "Where's Lt Robins?" he shouted.

     The three turned to look deeper into the building and were

rewarded by Missy Robins stepping out from behind a couple of

crates.  Jeff was a bit surprised at how calm everyone appeared.

     "What happened here?" he demanded, relief calming his voice.

     Katherine shrugged.  "Nothing we couldn't handle."

     "Yeah, the GMP showed up looking for Lt Robins," Nancy said

with a saucy smile.  "We asked them to leave."

     "In our own little way," Daisy added.  Her smile was

positively predatory.  There was obviously more going on here

than they were telling.

     "How?"

     "RDF Security showed up right after the GMP and 'encouraged'

them to leave peaceably," Katherine said, filling in the gaps. 

"Capt O'Riley's really a pretty decent person, outside of his

dislike for us."

     Jeff drew a deep breath.  "So the GMP gave up?"  This was

disturbing.  The GMP *never* gave up.  That was what made them so

dangerous.

     "Sorta," Katherine admitted with a grimace.  "However, I got

the impression they don't consider the issue closed."

     "That's what I thought."  Jeff broke all military bearing

and thrust his hands into his pants pockets.  Nothing had

changed.  Missy Robins was still on the GMP 'hot list'.

     Daisy looked past Jeff with raised eyebrows.  "By the way,

who's the new kid?"

     They all looked towards the headquarters building as if to

try and get another look at the person in question.  Jeff could

see the curiosity on their faces.

     "Another pilot.  She's Veritech qualified."

     "She's a Veritech Pilot?" Daisy gasped, sweeping her arm

towards the headquarters building.  Her look of curiosity had

dissolved into astonishment.

     "Yes, and from what I hear, a good one."

     Nancy groaned.  "Great.  Now we're taking children."

     "Well, I guess we'll just have to give her a chance,"

Katherine noted, her own expression betraying her lack of

confidence.

     Jeff felt it best to change the subject before they asked

too many questions about Anne's qualifications.  He had to admit,

he didn't really trust everything Steve told him.  Of course, if

'Tex' Boyd thought she was good enough, that should have

satisfied him.  Still, there were doubts.

     "Good job getting that junk stowed," he said.  "There may be

a use for them yet."

     "What do you mean, sir?" Katherine asked as the others

glanced quizzically at the worn-out fighters.

     Jeff explained about the unregistered Veritechs stored off

base and the plan on how to use them.

     "Finally," Ona said with a sigh of relief.  "It's about time

we got back in the air."

     "There's more than just that," Jeff warned, looking around

hoping they weren't being spied on even out in the open. "There

are apparently some folks who don't want us in the Ozarks."

     "Why?" Daisy asked with a scowl.

     "It's a little complicated but there appears to be some

folks up in Monument City who don't like us."

     Further discussion was broken by the sounds of crates

falling and a sharp scream that echoed in the massive hangar. 

Jeff led the charge deeper into the building until they rounded

another stack of crates to see Ona Parino pinned under some

smaller cases with Karen Crowkiller standing over her unconscious

form.

     Daisy and Nancy wasted no time, making a bee-line for the

startled older Crowkiller sister.

     "Dammit!" Daisy growled as she slammed Karen's body against

another crate.  "I warned you what would happen if you tried

anything."

     Karen tried to raise her hand in protest but Nancy

intercepted her arm and painfully pinned it against the crate. 

"This time, you're gonna deal with *us*."

     Gloria and Mary rounded the mound of crates and skidded to a

horrified halt.  "Oh, my God!" Gloria screeched.  "I'm so sorry. 

I didn't know she was on the other side."

     Jeff glanced quickly between Katherine bent over the

unmoving Ona, Daisy and Nancy on the verge of terminating Karen,

and the terrified-looking Gloria and Mary.  "What happened?" he

yelled to no one in particular.

     "I was just trying to get the old aircraft tug working,"

Gloria moaned.  "Moving those Veritechs by hand was such hard

work and I thought --"

     "That's alright," Jeff snapped.  Noticing the negative

effect it had on Gloria, he modified his tone.  "That's not

important now.  What *is* important is we need to take care of

Capt Parino."  Kneeling down next to Katherine, he gently took

Ona's limp arm.  He exhaled in relief when he felt a strong

pulse.

     Daisy and Nancy slackened their grip on Karen, exchanging

surprised looks.  The girl, trembling with anger, took advantage

of the inattention.  Driving a knee sharply into Daisy's groin,

she shifted enough to snap a kick to Nancy's chin.  The two

staggered back, releasing her.  She paused only a moment to glare

at Jeff before bolting for the open hangar exit.

     "Crowkiller!" Jeff called to no avail.  Karen escaped the

hangar, disappearing around the corner.  The sounds of her

running feet all that marked her escape.

     Jeff started after her but was stopped by Katherine's hand

on his arm.

     "You take care of Parino," she said looking out the

direction Karen disappeared.  "I'll handle Karen."

     It took only a moment and a single glance at Katherine's

serious face to nod an agreement.  After all, she was the

Executive Officer.  Personnel problems fell in her domain.

     He watched only a moment as Katherine purposefully strode

after the wayward Karen before turning to Daisy and Nancy.  "I

don't know what all that was about but it can wait.  Get over

here and help me get these crates off."  He motioned to the other

two.  "Mary, go call an ambulance.  Gloria, grab Ona's arms. 

When we shift some of the crates, pull her free."

     As Mary scurried to the office, Daisy limped over and eyed

the oversized boxes pinning her friend.  "They look heavy," she

said, turning around and crouching under the uppermost crate.  

     Nancy, straddling Ona's body with her feet, put her shoulder

to the same crate.  "We'll get this one.  If you can just raise

the bottom one an inch or so, we can pull her free."

     Jeff squatted in position, finding a sure grip on the

massive box.  With a nod, the other two grunted as they rolled

the top box off the pile.  It landed on the floor with a loud

crash.

     It had been a long time since Jeff had been in a weight room

but some things remain in one's memory forever.  Grimacing with

gritted teeth, he dropped into his lift, thrusting upward with

his legs.  

     At first, the crate refused to budge.  Sweat rolled down his

face at the exertion.  He had to get the crate to move.

     He was about to give up when he felt Daisy and Nancy join

him, adding their muscle to his own.  With a groan, the crate

moved.  Not much but enough to encourage the rescuers.  They

continued lifting, each certain they'd reached their limit, when

the crate suddenly gave way.  Lifting it almost a foot, he looked

at Gloria.  She had a good grip on Ona's wrists.  Planting her

feet and throwing her head back, she gave a high-pitched groan as

she tugged on the comatose Captain's arms.  There was a momentary

hesitation, before Gloria stumbled backwards, dragging Ona free.

     Once clear of the crates, Jeff and the girls let go and dove

out of the way.  The pile tumbled to the floor in a loud

avalanche, safely free from everyone in the hangar.

     Jeff lay on the floor, staring up at the metal trusses

inside the hangar, gasping for breath.  He could hear the other

two doing the same.  "Good job," he was finally able to say

between gasps.

     Rolling over, he crawled to where Gloria was sitting on the

floor, Ona's head cradled in her lap.

     "She's gonna live, isn't she?" Gloria whined.  "I mean, it

was an accident."

     Jeff put a hand on her shoulder.  "She's going to be fine,"

he said between gulps of air.  "It wasn't your fault.  Don't

worry about it."

     Gloria forced a painful smile, like she was about to cry or

something.  Jeff patted her shoulder and felt the side of Ona's

neck.  The pulse was still there and still strong.  In the

distance, they could hear the welcome sound of a siren.

     Nancy gently probed the inside of her lip with her tongue. 

"You know, Karen's got quite a kick."

     "You're telling me," Daisy replied, wincing with pain as she

tried to sit up.  "Sex is out for awhile."

     Nancy started chuckling followed by Daisy and finally Jeff. 

Soon, the three where laughing freely, broken only by Daisy's

wince of pain.

     Gloria continued to cradle Ona's head and stroke the

Zentraedi's hair.  "Please don't die," she whispered.



     Katherine searched several minutes before finding Karen

Crowkiller behind an old outbuilding near the perimeter fence. 

What drew her attention was the sound of someone repeatedly

striking the back side of the old wooden building.  Her feet

making swishing sounds as she waded through the knee-deep weeds,

Katherine approached with caution.  Karen had already decked two

of the toughest members of their squadron.  She had no desire to

become victim number three.

     Carefully stepping around the building, giving it enough

distance to allow her to see Karen while not presenting a threat,

she was greeted by the sight of Lt Crowkiller punching holes in

the aging wood.  Each blow sent chunks of wood flying.  Her fists

were bloodied by the impacts, her cheeks streaked with her tears.

     "Karen," Katherine called softly.

     There was no reaction.  Karen continued punching the wall.

     "Please, Karen.  Talk to me."  Katherine dared to step

closer.

     Karen whirled and dropped into a threatening stance, her

blood-covered fists raised, her eyes wild.  "Nobody will believe

me!" she screamed.

     "I'll believe you," Katherine said, stepping closer.

     "Stay back!" Karen warned, taking a step backwards but

continuing her threatening posture.  Her whole body was

vibrating.

     "Talk to me, Karen."

     "There's nothing to talk about.  I didn't do anything to

Capt Parino but nobody believes me because I hate Zentraedi."

     "All Zentraedi?"

     "Yes!"

     "Even Ona?"

     Karen started to answer.  Words struggled to escape but

quickly found themselves blocked by... what?

     "You don't hate Ona Parino, Karen.  She just represents

something that happened to you in South America."  Katherine

continued with a calm voice as she stepped closer.

     Her move did not go unnoticed.  "I'm warning you," Karen

growled, her body crouching as if to attack.

     Katherine stopped and crossed her arms.  "She's no different

than the rest of us; unwanted, unliked, alone.  That's why she's

here.  The RDF doesn't consider her or the rest of us worth

anything.  They stuck us all together in the hopes we'll fail and

they can get rid of us all."  She could see her words were having

an effect.  Karen's guard dropped slightly.  "So you see, we have

to stick together.  We're a family now."

     Karen's lip trembled.  "I didn't do anything," she moaned. 

"I was just talking to her."

     "Then you don't have to run away."

     "Those guys won't listen."

     "What guys?"

     "Montoya and Mills.  They think I caused the accident."

     "I'll handle them.  Nobody's going to hold you responsible

for this."

     "They did last time."

     "Last time you really did hit Capt Parino.  If they didn't

cover for you, you'd already be in the brig and on your way out

of the RDF."

     Karen grimaced, her bloody hands holding her head.  "You

don't understand!" she screeched.

     "Karen, if this is about something that happened in South

America, you need to talk to me about it," Katherine insisted. 

"Please, talk to me."

     "I can't," Karen whined.  "You won't understand."

     "Karen..."  Katherine stepped closer.  "I want to help you."

     Trembling, Karen turned towards the building, hugging

herself and bent over like she was going to be sick.  "He wasn't

a threat to them.  He couldn't move.  They... " She swallowed

hard, her control slipping.  "They..."  In an explosion of blind

rage, Karen swung her fist at the wall once again.  This time,

she must have struck a support.

     The sound of wood breaking was different this time. 

Screaming in pain, Karen staggered back, her knees buckling as

she held her bloody, misshapen hand.

     Katherine lunged for the girl, catching her before she went

down.  Together, they collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs. 

Karen, however, continued to struggle, despite the pain of her

broken hand, striking the Executive Officer in every way she

could.  

     Katherine just hugged the girl, enduring the blows and

talking in soothing tones.  "It's okay, Karen.  You're going to

be alright."

     The storm of Karen's anger quickly blew itself out.  She

clung to Katherine, burying her face in the older woman's breasts

and sobbed.

     "They just butchered him," she moaned into Katherine's

uniform.  "He was helpless and they still killed him."

     "It's okay.  It's all over now."  Katherine surmised this

person Karen was talking about had some importance in her life;

possibly a lover.  In any case, the incident was obviously the

cause of her Zentraedi hatred.  

     "They're all killers.  All Zentraedi.  They just kill for

the pleasure of killing.  I HATE them!" Karen growled with just a

hint of less conviction in her voice.

     "I've never been in combat," Katherine said, cradling the

lieutenant's head and slowly rocking.  "I'm not certain I can

ever even shoot at another living being.  So I don't know what

you went through but I do know Ona Parino.  She's not like that. 

She's an isolated person, lost on a strange world with emotions

she doesn't understand.  Those emotions cost her the life of

someone she loved very much.  So you two have something in

common.

     "Cindy Wallace is her roommate.  She told me Ona is like a

scared little girl at night.  She has no family, no friends

outside the squadron.  We are all she has.  We're her family

now."

     Karen shuddered and sniffed, still clinging to Katherine as

if her life depended on it.  Perhaps it did.

     "Let's get you to the hospital so they can have a look at

that hand.  We'll sort this thing out later," Katherine said,

stroking the girl's hair.  "Okay?"

     Karen nodded and allowed herself to helped to her feet. 

Still holding her broken hand close to her chest, she shuffled

along next to Katherine as they limped back towards the hangar

and the rest of the squadron.

     

     Jeff rode in the ambulance with Ona.  Gloria, still holding

Ona's hand, refused to be left behind.  The three of them and the

paramedic made the back of the ambulance a very crowded place. 

Ona's sudden twitching and striking out with her fists didn't

help.  The big Zentraedi silently thrashed about like she was

fighting for her life, punctuated by an occasional oath in her

native language.  Only by Jeff pinning her to the gurney and

enduring her blows did they make it to the hospital in one piece.

     The hospital, however, didn't go much better.  Understaffed,

the facility struggled with its caseload as best it could. 

Emergencies, like Ona's, came first.  Still fighting unseen foes,

she was wheeled in while Jeff and Gloria remained out in the

waiting room.

     Gloria refused to sit down.  Even Jeff's strong persuasion

failed to dissuade the girl from standing at the door, anxiously

waiting for news.

     "It's going to be okay," he said, standing behind Gloria and

putting his hands gently but firmly on her shoulders.

     "It's all my fault," she said softly with a vacant stare at

the door.  "If I hadn't tried to fix the tug, this wouldn't have

happened."

     Jeff sighed and tried to turn her back towards the waiting

room.  "It was an accident.  These things happen.  I'm sure Ona's

going to be alright."

     Gloria resisted his efforts, twisting her shoulders to

escape his grip.  "I shouldn't have listened to Mary.  It was her

idea," she said bitterly.  It wasn't clear if she was blaming

Mary now or just telling what happened in her own words.  Either

way, Jeff felt certain there was going to be some serious soul-

searching for the foreseeable future.

     "Well, you learned a valuable lesson about planning," he

added, hoping to turn the incident into something positive. 

"Always plan for what *could* happen.  That way you're less

likely to be surprised."

     Gloria's shoulders sagged and she turned towards the waiting

room.  "I'm always doing stupid things," she said, her voice

sounding lost.

     "I don't believe that.  You just forget to take proper

precautions."  He patted her shoulder and felt her take a deep

breath, sagging against him when she exhaled.

     "I just hope Capt Parino understands."

     "I'm sure she does."

     The human explosion in the Emergency Room took everyone by

surprise.  Many voices were yelling, something heavy struck the

wall and two orderlies stumbled through the door, one with a

nasty-looking cut on his forearm.

     "Call security!  She's gone nuts!" one yelled, looking back

in horror.  "She's going to kill everyone."

     Jeff and Gloria exchanged looks before charging the door,

pushing aside whomever got in their way.

     Inside, they were greeted by the sight of Ona Parino, her

flight suit undone so that one arm was free, her left breast

exposed, backed into a corner and holding a wicked-looking knife

in a threatening manner.  Other orderlies and a couple of nurses

blocked her escape.  Scattered around her position were trays,

bandages, and various other medical paraphernalia.  She wasn't

escaping but no one was brave enough to take on the knife-wielding 

Zentraedi.  It was a standoff.

     "Captain Parino!" Jeff barked.  Ona just stared at him and

blinked.  That act alone caused him to hesitate.  He'd heard how

people struck on the head could lose their memories.  They might

even forget who their friends were.  He hoped this wasn't the

case with Ona.  That would require killing her to prevent anyone

else from being hurt by an out of control Zentraedi.

     "Colonel, do something," Gloria begged.

     With an annoyed glance her way, he took a deep breath and

slowly stepped forward.  "Ona, it's me, Jeffrey Lawrence.  You

remember me, don't you?" he said in a controlled voice.  "You

were in an accident.  A bunch of crates fell on you.  Remember?"

     Ona blinked and shook her head as if to clear her memory. 

It seemed to be working because the hand holding the knife

lowered.

     "That's right.  You remember me."

     An orderly made the mistake of moving slightly, obviously

hoping to better position himself for a final rush.  Ona's

reaction was swift and decisive.  In a feat of superhuman

strength, she yanked the heavy examining table over on its side

and, in the confusion, scurried towards a door leading deeper

into the hospital.  That wasn't good.  Once through that door,

she could go just about anywhere, endangering everyone in the

building.

     In what had to be a case of bad timing, a middle-aged,

slightly overweight woman doctor stepped through the door.  Ona

snatched her in mid-stride, wrapping an arm across her throat and

placing the knife point just under her left breast.  Everyone in

the place held their breath.

     "Well, now, it appears we have a Zentraedi in our Emergency

Room," the doctor croaked in an unusually calm voice.  "I don't

suppose any of you brave young men are going to rescue me."  No

one moved.  "I didn't think so."  She swallowed hard as Ona

backed towards the door.  "You know, sweetie, you're doing this

backwards.  You're supposed to hold me around the chest and put

the knife to my throat."

     Ona growled something unintelligible and halted her retreat. 

Hesitantly, she glanced through the door's tiny window.  What she

saw must not have agreed with her because she quickly moved away

from it, muttering something in Zentraedi.

     "Okay, let's try something else," the doctor said, fumbling

in her pocket.  Switching to fluent Zentraedi, she barked an

emphatic string of commands.  It must have been something the

Zentraedi recognized because her grip loosened and the knife slid

away from the doctor's chest.

     Popping the cover of a hypodermic she'd retrieved from her

lab coat pocket, the doctor jabbed it into Ona's thigh at the

same time she slammed an elbow into the Zentraedi's ribs.

     The reaction was immediate.  Howling in pain and fury, Ona

grabbed for her leg; the knife tumbling from her hand.  The

doctor threw herself free and rolled across the floor.

     Without hesitation, Jeff launched himself at the Zentraedi,

pinning her to the wall.  A host of orderlies followed, wrestling

the still struggling Ona to the floor.  Howling a string of

Zentraedi oaths, her eyes wide, Ona's struggles slowed before she

finally went limp.  

     In the silence that followed, two security guards burst

through the former escape door, their guns drawn.  "Freeze!" they

yelled.

     "Nice timing, Rambo," Jeff growled.

     "Is she out yet?" the doctor asked while still on her back.

     "Yes, doctor," one of the orderlies answered between gasps.

     "Good."  The doctor slowly got to her feet with the help of

a couple of nurses.  Holding her back with both hands, she

stretched.  "I'm getting too old for this shit.  Now, somebody

tell me what happened."

     The Head Nurse described the events leading up to Ona's odd

behavior.  When she got to the part about drawing blood for the

lab, the doctor groaned.

     "Which one of you morons tried to get a blood sample from

her arm?" she asked.

     One young nurse hesitantly acknowledged the deed.  "I didn't

think --"

     "That's right, you didn't think," the doctor snapped.  "You

can't take blood from a female Zentraedi's arm.  It's akin to

rape in their culture.  That's why she reacted like she did." 

Waddling over, she bent over the prostrate form of Ona Parino and

examined her carefully.  "Hmmmmm, looks like we got us a head

injury.  Get her on a table."

     Amidst a chorus of groans, the orderlies struggled to get

the limp Zentraedi on one of the undamaged examining tables. 

Other medical personnel scurried about cleaning up the room.  The

security men, no longer needed, holstered their weapons and

sheepishly returned to their stations.

     Jeff stood alone where they'd wrestled Ona to the floor,

brushing off his uniform.

     "Who are you?" the doctor asked in a tone that made it

obvious she considered him out of bounds.  Not waiting for an

answer, she waved her hand his direction.  "Who cares?"

     "Excuse me but that officer is one of my pilots," he said.

     "She belongs to you?" the doctor asked with raised eyebrows.

     "Yes."

     "My condolences."

     "Look, she's just had a little accident."

     "What'd ya do?  Drop a fighter on her?"

     "A six foot packing crate."

     "That'll do it."

     Jeff stepped closer.  "Will she be alright?"

     "They usually are," the doctor said with a sigh.  "By the

way, I'm Doctor Nikki Takahashi and, no, I'm not related to

'her'."

     Jeff shook the doctor's hand.  "Colonel Jeffrey Stuart."

     Dr Takahashi shot him an incredulous look.  "Not THE Col

Stuart."

     "You've heard of me?"

     "Everyone's heard of you, Lighthorse," she replied, bending

over Ona, sliding open an eyelid with her thumb and shining a

light in the Zentraedi's eye.  "I'm just surprised to see your

traveling circus in my Emergency Room."

     "Like I said: We had a little accident."

     "From what I've heard, you characters have been having a lot

of accidents lately.  They're bringing in another of your girls

with a broken hand now.  What, exactly, is it you do out there on

the fringes of civilization?"

     "Putting together a new squadron.  Did you say I've got

another one coming in?"

     "Yes.  Seems she went a couple of rounds with a wall and

lost.  What kind of squadron are you putting together?"

     "A very strange one," Jeff admitted with a sigh.  "They're a

little frustrated right now."

     "That goes without saying."  Dr Takahashi yanked a sheet

over Ona's exposed breast.  "Your warrior princess here is going

to take a little nap.  She's got a full load of happy juice and

will probably sleep until dinner time.  Why don't you go back out

to the Waiting Room while I check on your boxing champ."

     Reluctantly, he agreed and started for the door.

     "By the way, I want to talk to you before you leave," the

doctor called.

     Jeff stopped at the door and looked back over his shoulder. 

"Whatever you say, doc.  It's your turf."

     "And don't you ever forget it."



     The ambulance soon arrived with Lt Crowkiller and Capt Fox. 

Thankfully, the break was rather minor and easily set.  That gave

Katherine time to fill him in on what happened while he was gone. 

It wasn't the kind of news he wanted to hear.  Karen wasn't just

xenophobic, she had a deep, personal reason for her Zentraedi

hatred.  One that will have to be addressed before the squadron

deployed.  Gloria continued to hover nearby, still fretting the

eventual outcome of Ona's condition.  Outwardly, she seem to have

accepted the news that Ona would be alright but Jeff couldn't

shake the feeling that she would be another of his problems.

     "We better find some way to get this squadron focused or its

gonna come apart before we even get in the air," he warned

Katherine.

     "I know," she replied, her own frustration showing.

     "All right!  Where's my stupid sister!" Linda Crowkiller

yelled at the Emergency Room receptionist as she burst through

the door.  She'd followed the ambulance in her own car and looked

none too happy about it.

     "Great," Jeff said with a flap of her arms.  "Another

problem child."

     "I'll take care of it," Katherine said with a sigh.

     "Just keep her from punching any walls.  They look pretty

solid here."

     Katherine responded with a sick smile before intercepting

the vociferous Linda.

     Jeff watched the two argue for a few seconds before shaking

his head and turning away.

     "Quite a little tribe you got there," Dr Takahashi said as

she approached, watching Katherine wave a finger in front of the

still angry Linda Crowkiller.

     "You don't know the half of it," Jeff replied, casting a

disgusted look over his shoulder at the arguing pair.

     "Well, why don't you tell me about it.  I feel like a bit of

coffee and conversation."

     Jeff hesitated, noting Katherine finally appeared to have

Linda under control, before following the plump little doctor

through another door, down a short hall and into an empty

doctor's lounge.

     Dr Takahashi filled two cups from a coffee urn and joined

him at a small table.  Groaning as she sat down, she blew lightly

on the steaming mixture and eyed Jeff with a curious expression.

     "So, how's my Zentraedi?"  Jeff never liked beating around

the bush.

     "She's fine.  Between the blow on the head and the blunder

with the lab work, I'm surprised we didn't have to kill her," Dr

Takahashi said as calmly as if she were talking about some

hypothetical training exercise.

     "Will she be able to return to the squadron?"

     "You sound desperate, sport."

     "Doc, I'm taking kids and half-trained novices.  That

Zentraedi in there is one of the few experienced pilots I've got. 

I need her."

     "Hmmmmm, that *is* desperate," she said thoughtfully. 

"Well, I wouldn't worry.  Our records show that what your little

alien is suffering from is quite common and usually passes fairly

quickly."

     "How quickly?"

     "Fairly quickly," she repeated, her irritation obvious. 

"Usually."

     They stared at each other, each challenging the other to

press the issue.  Jeff was the first to break, slumping back in

his chair with a soft chuckle.

     "Sorry," he said apologetically.  "We're on sort of a tight

schedule."

     "Understood.  I hear you're going to be shipping out soon,"

she said with a smile that twenty years and fifty pounds ago

might have been considered flirtatious.

     "If we go operational, yes."

     "Rumor has it you're headed for a reactivated base down

south."

     Jeff shook his head.  Security wasn't what it used to be in

the RDF.  "Good news certainly gets around."

     "Yeah, the rumor mill is pretty good on this base," the

doctor admitted, shifting around to put her feet up on a nearby

chair.  "I figure you're going to need a doctor at your new home

and I'm certain the girls will be more comfortable with a woman

doctor."

     Jeff eyed Nikki suspiciously.  "You have anyone in mind."

     She leaned over the table and supported her head on a fist. 

"Look, let's cut to the chase.  I do things my own way.  The

Administrator around here doesn't like my way.  So, I'm not

exactly at the top of her retention list."  She sighed and shook

her head.  "Let's just say that I'm a lot like you."

     "Like me?"

     "We're both a couple of old war horses that have been ridden

hard and put up wet.  We've been whipped, yelled at, and

generally treated like shit.  We've been doing this RDF stuff for

so long we don't know what we'd do outside the service."

     "Point of order," he said with a raised index finger.  "I

*tried* to quit but Emerson wouldn't let me.  And, yes, I *do*

know what I'd do outside the service."

     Nikki sighed.  "Okay, you're one up on me there.  So, how

about it?  You want company for your great adventure?"

     "You seem awful anxious," Jeff noted, his uneasy feeling

about this doctor thinly disguised.

     She must have thought so too because she rocked back in her

seat with an irritated expression.  "Don't let my interest in

your situation confuse you.  I'm thinking about those girls out

there," she said, waving a hand in the general direction of the

waiting room.  "I've watched too many of our side die, men and

women.  You want my qualifications?  Fine.  I graduated medical

school first in my class.  Before the war, I worked in some of

the nastiest hell holes you can imagine, piecing together damn

near every kind of injury imaginable.  In 2002, I got snagged by

the RDF.  I served on the SDF-1 from its commissioning until it

returned to earth for the last time.  I was Claudia Grant's

doctor.  I also delivered Miriya Sterling's baby.  So don't you

go around thinking I haven't seen just about everything."

     "I was wondering how you knew the Zentraedi language," Jeff

said, keeping his expression as neutral as possible.  If

everything Dr Takahashi said was true, she was a veteran of

unusual experience.

     "I picked that up from one of our orderlies.  He's

Zentraedi, ya know."

     "No, I didn't know," Jeff admitted.  "I didn't think

Zentraedi even had medical skills."

     "They don't," Nikki said, getting up to refill her cup. 

"This one, however, is an exception.  He came from a crashed

Zentraedi cruiser down south.  They found him in what we call the

'birthing chamber'.  He was probably being activated as a warrior

but never received all his programming.  About all he knew how to

do when he revived was exist.  I taught him how to be an orderly. 

In exchange, he taught me his language."

     "I'm impressed."

     "You should be.  Damn near everything about that language is

bass-ackwards.  I'll explain it to you sometime."  She grinned

like this was going to clinch it for her to join the squadron.

     Jeff finished his coffee in a single gulp, feeling his ulcer

protesting all the way.  "Okay, you get a release from the

hospital Admin office and I'll square it with RDF Command. 

Deal?"

     "You got it, handsome," Dr Takahashi said, cradling her cup

in both hands while casting him a satisfied grin.  She looked

almost demure standing like that; very Japanese in her guarded

manner.  He couldn't help but think how she must have been

something in her younger days.

     "Doctor, you have no idea what you've just gotten yourself

into," he said standing up and turning towards the door.

     "Yes I do," she replied softly, still cradling the coffee

cup in her fingers and staring at its contents with a faraway

look.  "And thank you."

     Jeff stopped.  "For what?"

     She glanced his way, a mysterious twinkle in her eye, and

replied: "It's not important.  Like I said; we're a lot alike."

     His hesitation lasted only slightly longer than his

confusion over her answer.  Dismissing it with a subtle shake of

his head, he left the lounge to Dr Takahashi and sought out Capt

Fox in the Waiting Room.

     By now, Linda Crowkiller had calmed down, despite continued

muttering about how her crazy sister keeps finding new ways of

hurting herself.



     Karen Crowkiller was released that afternoon, her hand set,

cast, and pretty much useless for much of anything.  Ona Parino,

however, remained overnight for observation.  Despite her return

to what passed for normal in her case, there remained some

concern that her head injury would cause her to go 'native' once

more and they wanted her in the security section of the hospital

in case that happened.  Gloria stayed at Capt Parino's side all

evening, defying hospital orders and coming dangerously close to

irritating Ona into a relapse.

     For Jeff, there was one more task before calling it a night. 

Gathering the remaining squadron members together outside, he

went over what happened and made whole incident an object lesson

about not jumping to conclusions and always thinking about

possible consequences before taking on a task.  He had an

attentive audience.

     "That brings me to the last two items," he said, eyeing each

seriously.  "It has come to my attention that there are elements

in the New World Government that don't like us very much.  The

ASC, outside of their interest in Lt Robins, is probably

ambivalent, at best, but some of the civilian bureaucrats are

decidedly hostile to our presence.  I believe most of our recent

troubles can be traced to them.  I also have reason to believe

that we're being bugged.  So, until we sweep the building for

listening devices, no conversations relating to the activities of

this squadron will take place inside.  If the bastards want to

know what we're doing, they'll just have to hide someone under

the porch."

     A ripple of angry conversation mixed with derisive chuckles

flowed through the squadron until Jeff held up a hand.

     "I know what you're thinking.  How can we function if

someone is working against us all the time?"  He paused and

looked down at his feet, scuffing the sole of one boot on the

hard surface.  "All my life, I've been taught to follow the

rules, know the regulations, and don't cut corners.  Well, things

have changed.  It's about time I did as well."

     He turned to Katherine and said: "In my position, it's vital

I maintain my deniability.  Do you understand what I'm saying?"

     She nodded with an expression the confirmed the gravity of

his statement.

     "I'm going to quote you something from my orders."  He

opened a folder and began to read.  "It is imperative that the

RDF form a new squadron at all possible speed.  Therefore, the

appointed commander of 13 Foxtrot will take *all steps necessary*

to ensure the timely formation, training, and deployment of his

squadron."  He looked up from the folder, directly into

Katherine's eyes.  "Do you understand what I just read?"

     "I think so, sir," she said with a concerned frown.

     That was an unsatisfactory answer and Jeff's expression

accurately conveyed that point to Katherine.  "All steps

necessary," he repeated.

     With a sudden snap to attention and sharp salute, she said

with a knowing grin: "Yes, sir!"

     Jeff nodded.  "Just one more thing.  We have two and a half

weeks before General Emerson has to decide whether or not to

activate this squadron.  Make no mistake.  This squadron WILL be

ready in time.  That is all.  Dismissed."

     The squadron members saluted as a single unit as Jeff turned

on his heel and marched back into the headquarters building.



     "All right," Katherine said in a perfect command voice. 

"You heard the Colonel."  She paused, adding a mischievous smile

and in a softer voice said: "Let's get organized."





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