I wrote this an incredibly long time ago, it could be called
my first fanfic. It has been sitting both on my site, and
on floppy disk since 1993 when it was originally written.
This little gem of past childhood insanity was inspired
by watching Robotech over and over and over again because
that was the only "anime" I could get my hands on that time.
Please keep in mind that I wrote this at the beginning of
high school when I was still a bit on the innocent side,
and sucked when it came to writing.
Everyone has their skeleton in the closet fanfic,
this one happens to be mine.
Read, and feel free to make fun of my writing mistakes
of 8 years ago.
But now, I present to you, WarZone: The Saga Begins
(Yes, I wrote three bloody novels for this thing, back when
I thought 128 pages was alot, nowadays, I have a single
chapter of a fanfic being that long.)
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The Beginning....
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In the year 1997, The United Nations approved the Pluto
project. This project would allow for an expeditionary
force of spacecraft to travel to the other side of the solar
system and beyond. The fleet was composed of spacecraft
from each of the political, and industrial superpowers.
This fleet launched on April 15, 1997. By July 17, 1999 the
fleet had achieved plutonian orbit, and was preparing for it's
journey outside the known parameters of our solar system.
This was put on hold when the Russian craft, Leviathan,
had detected a small energy source originating from the dark
side of Pluto. It was later discovered by landing parties from
the American shuttle Enterprise and the Japanese shuttle Yamato
that the energy source was coming from the charred hulk of a
large unidentified space craft that had crashed there years
before. Further investigation of it's flight records revealed
that the ship had been trying to make it's way to Earth, but was
attacked by a fleet of it's own ships. Another surprising
finding was the discovery of large, robotic-like fighter craft
in the aft compartments. Who ever had built them were far
superior in technology to that of the human race.
Surprised and scared by their recent discovery, the U.N.
abandoned the Pluto project and set up operations to learn all
they could from the alien ship. It was lifted from the surface
of Pluto and transported back to Earth where at the turn of the
century scientists from every part of the globe worked
feverishly to discover it's hidden secrets.
Renown half-Russian scientist Emmett Long led the group
of scientists and researchers who explored the vessel. Among
the highly advanced technology found on board were break
throughs in neural-link technology, discovered in the circuitry
of these sixty foot tall robot-like war machines. The technology
along with some "Terran innovations" were later incorporated
into a reconfigurable fighter jet based on the design of the
YF-22. The fighter was officially christened the Reconfigurable
Fighter, or RF, Gamma class. Among the test pilots for these
new experimental fighters were pilots, Chris Young, Mike Parker,
and Cliff Beckett.
In later discovery it was found out that the ship had
been sort of like a battleship found amongst human naval fleets.
Another, but more frightening discovery, was that this ship was
not alone. It had been on a rendezvous course with Earth in a
bold attempt to warn us that it's comrades in arms were on their
way and had only one purpose, the conquering of the planet Earth
itself. When this news got out, ship yards across the globe were
errected and began demanding design specs of the ship. Earth
was now in a frantic rush against time to arm itself for the
quickly approaching armada. As the newly constructed fleet of
ships neared completion, A force of warships, numbering in the
hundreds, showed up in the system. First attacking the forward
observation post on Pluto and then progressively attacking
all human stations in their path. While many lives were lost
during the onslaught of these forces, the destruction of these
colonies and stations bought the Terran Air Force sufficient
time to marshal their forces, culminating in the war of Mars,
formally renamed TWI or Titan War One. While nearly half of the
TAF's space craft had been lost in this battle, Earth managed
to defeat it's attackers. During the Armistice after the war,
the commanders of the Titan forces agreed to sign on with the
Terran Forces, in exchange for their lives.
During those nine months of war a romance had been
cultivated between Lieutenant Commander Mike Parker, by now a
squadron commander aboard the cruiser Lincoln, and Commander
Rebecca MacDougall, the ship's first officer. The two were madly
in love and were married during the signing of the peace treaty.
Romance was also in the air between Mike Parker's comrade in
arms, Cliff Beckett, and Arlisha Tridori, ace Titan mecha pilot
and Malonius's daughter.
Meanwhile, on their homeworld, Pandora, the news of the
alliance between Malonius's forces and the Earth fleet served
only to enrage Jhon'Acar K'ylesa, the supreme commander of all
Titan forces. He, and his consort, Mirika lead a strike force
of their own to Earth. This strike force much larger than the
initial one by several thousand.
However, by the time their fleet reaches the Sol system,
Earth has had ample time to rebuild it's fleet and incorporate
the use of it's new class of ship, the Arcon heavy
battlecruiser. Lead by the U.S.S. Nimitz, Earth intercepts
K'ylesa's armada on their journey towards Earth. For two years
a major blood bath between the two opposing sides wages, till
finally the stalemate is ended when K'ylesa's flagship is
captured.
Beaten and without the ability to return to his
homeworld, Jhon'Acar agrees to settle on Earth, but requests
never to be placed in command again. Six months after settlement
Acar and Mirika conceive a child.
Approximately one month later, Earth receives a
communique from a Zen scientist who calls himself Mazama. Less
than a week after that first communication, Earth and their new
Zen comrade, Mazama, have joined forces, ultimately creating
Fall Back Station, located in the Tyrone sector. This place,
is the location of the ship yards where the battlefleet
of TEF are constructed.
However, Earth still finds that their forces lack a
Super Carrier to back their forces on their journey to Pandora.
Earth fears that with out this type of ship, they may not stand
a chance to defeat the Titan's on their homeworld. Never the
less, the TEF departs for Pandora, accompanied by Mirika and
Acar, to lead them. Before their departure, they leave their
three month-old child with Mazama, believing that the old
scientist will do a better job raising their child, whom they
had named Ransey. Soon afterward, they return to Earth to help
end the malcontent uprisings with the Eighteenth Mechanized
division. During a particularly fierce battle, both Jhon'Acar
and Mirika disappear from the face of the Earth when a strange
ray strikes their fighters. About eight months after this, the
TEF reaches Pandora. Eight years later, Hera and her armies
attack the Earth.
Before the first week of the war was over, Hera's forces
had destroyed 90 percent of Earth's armies. They also had taken
over the Northlands (an area composed of the United States,
Canada, Mexico, and Brazil), either killing most of the human
inhabitants, or putting them to work in their mecha factories.
For a grueling twelve years the inhabitants of the Northlands
are forced to work under the Titan's thumb, while Earth begins
construction of the new TLF, or Terran Liberation Fleet. A force
of ships comprised of over three-million ships, all battle ready
and waiting for the command to reclaim Earth.
Mazama, however, during this time had created a new
experimental fighter. The Semi, Tactical, Assault Craft, or Stac
as it was more commonly called. This new fighter group, deemed
the Stac Squad Alpha, was lead by, and still is, Ransey J.
K'ylesa or Ransey Kaylouse as his last name was translated
out to. The new squadron shortly after departing Tyrone was sent
out on recapturing runs to Earth's outer system bases that had
fallen under Titan rule. For eight years, the Alpha Squad slowly
built up a reputation, along with a nickname, for itself. To
those who they had freed they were known as, the No-see-ums.
While the Alpha Squad was out on liberation runs, General
Acromen, the new head of the TLF, had begun sending small
assault groups to Earth as a sort of Kamikaze. Acromen's
thinking was simple: First, take out the enemy's fighter forces
with small assault groups. Second, send down the most capable
fighter squad to get an evaluation of the situation on Earth.
Third, design battle plans around this report. and Finally,
send in the main force to retake Earth, and drive the Titan's
out of existence. Acromen's plan was put into play instantly.
After approximately eighteen recon forces had been sent to Earth
one by one, Acromen called in the Alpha Squad to go to Earth
with the next recon force and get his evaluation.
>From Accounts and Recollections: A historic record of the events
during the Titan Wars: By Sam Pierce
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Chapter 1
When news came of a return expedition to Earth, my squadron
jumped at the chance to get assigned to it. Finally we would
get a chance to see our fabled homeworld. Whether or not we
would have been equally enthusiastic if we had known the
greeting in store for us..........
Eye of the Storm: The Autobiography of Ransey J. Kaylouse
"Attention all squadrons, stand by for hyperspace
breakout in ten minutes. I repeat, attention all
squadrons........." Ransey turns disdainfully to the PA speaker
and rolls his eyes. Somehow he had already known that Relief
Force One was nearing the breakout point. He reaches out to the
magnum launch switch and slaps it hard. Immediately loud klaxons
start blaring throughout the flight group barracks and lounge.
He is already pulling on his flight suit and helmet. Less than
five minutes later, he is climbing into the cockpit of his Stac
fighter. This fighter, along with the Gamma-class Reconfigurable
Fighter, is representative of the melding of Terran and Zen
technologies. These fighters are sleek, sharp, and deadly,
particularly in the hands of a man like Ransey Kaylouse.
"Captain, you've got full up on ordinance and laser
power," says Ransey's crew chief. "In addition every fuel cell
is charged to the max, and we finally replaced that damned helm
of yours." "Lets just hope that Mazama's Bio-matter works better
than Long's Proto-matter, " comments Ransey dryly. The crew
chief grins. "Don't worry, I ran some tests on this baby. She
runs even better." Ransey smiles and pumps the man's right hand.
"See ya downside." A minute later, Ransey's fighter is sealed,
and trundled onto the launch line. As chief escort leader,
Ransey's fighter (one of only seven prototype fighters) is first
to launch from the Antigone, the relief forces flagship.
"Escort one, you are cleared for launch," declares
the flight controller. "Good hunting." "Roger," yells Ransey
excitedly into the comlink. He opens the throttles all the way
and heaves back on the yoke. A moment later his fighter is being
flung out into the velvet darkness of space. Already the other
fighters are beginning to form up behind him in a loose diamond
formation. "Alright guys, sign off, " calls out Ransey. And so
they do.
First up, is Commander Johnny Angel, Ransey's second
in command and most trusted advisor. Second, is Commander
Thadius Fokker, known to his friends as "Gus". Third up, is
Lieutenant Commander Richard O'Riley, the resident genius.
Fourth is Lieutenant Commander Jason Buchart, nicknamed "Chunk"
for both his appetite and his size. Fifth is the resident
musician in the group, Lieutenant Michael Lacret. And wrapping
up the roll is Lieutenant Travis Roytez, the youngest and the
local bookworm. Seven men, the TAF's finest, flying escort for
the flagship of the Earth's initial liberators. Or so they
think...
The Antigone was the first of a new breed of warships,
a hybrid design drawing influences from both Terran and Zen
spacecraft. These vessels are large and fearsomely armed, with
a high fighter capacity and-perhaps most importantly-a
Bio-matter-fueled hyperspace transit drive, allowing it to
traverse extremely long distances in the blink of an eye.
Already the Oedipus and the Juno, two of the Antigone's
escort battlecruisers, are disgorging their fighters and
charging their weapons, as is the case throughout the rest of
the fleet. On the Antigone's bridge, Colonel Iole Shumway,
the fleet commander, is intently watching the tactical display.
"Colonel, attack wing four reports all ships in
position," calls out one of the comtechs. Shumway turns to him
briefly. "Is the rest of the fleet in position?" The tech turns
to look briefly at his board. "Yes ma'am, and all comman- Holy
Shit!!!!!!" Shumway is about to ask him what's happening
when the ship is torn to shreds by the concentrated energy
blasts of numerous Titan warships.
"Captain, we just lost Antigone!!" screams the panic
filled voice of Travis Roytez over the intercom. "Just keep your
cool and remember what I taught you, when in a battle situation
it is best to keep your mind clear and concentrated on the
battle, screening out all thoughts. " And after a minutes pause,
"Okay boys, lets go kick some Titan ass!" With that the squadron
breaks formation and goes screaming into the battle. Within
seconds space is lit up with the explosions of alien and Earth
mecha.
Around the densest part of the battle seven lone
fighters blast their way through the enemy defense perimeter.
Each being in different modes of mechamorphisis. In the lead,
Captain Kaylouse, his fighter reconfigured to Robodroid,
is emptying rounds of railgun projectiles into enemy fighters.
Space is lit up as bulletholed mecha explode into fiery clouds
reducing the mecha and pilots to atomic particles.
"Alpha squad, this is Opideus and Juno, we require
your assistance, repeat this is....." "Yeah, I hear ya. Alpha
squad! Regroup and converge on Juno's coordinates, looks like
they can't hold their own. " After staring at the large troop
ship for a few seconds, he adds, "I'll catch up with you in a
second." "Captain, " protests Johnny, "We're not just going to
leave you here!"
Ransey chuckles, "You're not leaving me alone, Johnny.
I'll catch up with you guys in a second. But right now the fleet
needs you more than I do, Now scram!" After a second's
hesitation, the rest of the squadron peals off to rejoin the
rest of the fleet.
Ransey now turns his attention upon the troop ship.
Smiling to himself, he arms the plasma blaster and squeezes
the trigger. Blue bolts of energy fly from the barrels of his
cannon and begin to stitch holes across the troop ship's
surface. Grinning even wider, Ransey moves in closer and starts
aiming his tac nuke. His thumb presses down on the trigger.....
And suddenly the entire universe is turned upside down.
At that moment, the troop ship had tried to commence a fold when
their reactor melted down. The resulting explosion culminates
in the formation of a tremendously powerful subspace shockwave.
The energy released by this shockwave is about equal to that
released in the beam of a TSF's main gun. Ransey's ship is
knocked off course and blown around the darkside of the planet.
The rest of his fleet is not so lucky. While the rest of his
squadron survives, the capital ships, which are too big to move
out of the shockwave's path in time, are eradicated, along with
the most of the fleet's fighter forces. The last remaining
capital ship, the light cruiser Ibycus, is attempting to marshal
the remainder of the fleet when a dying troop ship slams into
its gut. The last transmission intercepted from it is: "---Oh
god, it's heading right toward us........... Full power to
shields, gun batteries at full, maybe we can
ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!"
By now, Ransey Kaylouse is the only member of Recon
Force Nineteen left alive to hear that message. Or so he
thinks.... As his ship plummets to the planetary surface,
he promises himself that one day he shall avenge the deaths
of his fallen comrades. He smiles to himself as he thinks of the
main fleet of the Terran Liberation Force, still in orbit of
Tyrone. "One day soon, " he thinks, "The TLF will return home
to drive these monsters away..... And I will be able to avenge
my friends........... and Jenny......."
Alarms start going off from the gauges and displays
in his cockpit. "Warning! Warning! Fuel levels dropping rapidly!
NCP sequencers off line! Main railgun battery off line! Main
plasma cannon off line! Missile racks depleted! Ejection
systems-" Ransey slaps the off switch and says a brief prayer.
He's never really been religious, but he takes what ever help
he can get when it comes down to it. By now rain drops are
pelting the green tinted clearsteel canopy. This is mixing with
the leaking plasma converters just aft of the cockpit. The
results are blue electrical flares which are inching ever closer
to his present location. Ransey knows about these fires and
knows he can do only one thing: Kick the boosters to full and
pray to God that they don't burn out. He reaches for the
throttle and opens it wide. The trails of thrust behind him fan
out wider and he can actually feel his sturdy little craft
accelerating.
He keeps his hand on the throttle, ready to back down
if the need arises. His eyes are also on the fuel reserves
gauge, the power reserves dial, and the heads-up display.
They also fall on a two-D of Jenny in a string bikini, the Deaf
Leopard cassette tucked beneath the throttle board.... All of a
sudden he feels an over whelming wave of despair. A part of his
soul demands, "Why try? What's the point of it, you're going
to get waxed sooner or later, why not get it over with now?"
At times like this in his life, rock music had always helped
him stay motivated.
He begins to reach for the tape....... And stops. If
he's going to bring this sucker down, he's got to stay
concentrated. To answer the despondent part of his soul, he
responds, "My friends need avenging." All of a sudden he feels
his craft's thrust begin to dissipate. He glances at his compass
and the latest holomap of the area. If his calculations
are right, he's closing in on Acupulco, Mexico. This is as good
a place as any to stop......
First thing he has to do is find a nice clear area. This
is fairly easy: A three hundred foot long tarmac that has seen
better days. Next comes the hard part: reconfiguring
manually. Most reconfigurations are done with the "thinking
cap", or the neural control helmet. But the Neural Control
Pack is out, and so he's in for a bumpy landing. He reaches
for the reconfiguration trigger, flips to Gerwalk, and pulls
the lever. No good. All he gets is a shower of sparks from the
panel and several minor burns up and down his arms. Next he
flips the selector to Robodroid and pulls the trigger again.
With the NCP inoperative, Robodroid is effectively locked out.
Now he has only one last chance: Use the landing gear and try
and land it bi-plane style. Saying another prayer, he reaches
forward and pulls the landing gear control lever back. For a
moment, it sounds like nothing is happening. Then finally,
the hum of the servomotors kicks in, allowing Ransey to let out
the breath he had been holding. Once he hears the sturdy click
of the wheels locking into place, he cuts back the antigravs
to one-fourth power, just enough to begin a slow decent, that
is if all the antigravs were functioning....
As it is, his ship begins to plummet out of the sky like a rock.
Ransey pulls back on the stick with all his might, hoping to
force the beleaguered craft into a glide. Unfortunately
he has no such luck. If anything, his ship only drops faster.
Ransey knows that his ship is strong enough to take the brunt
of the impact, but is he? Oh well....... After making sure that
he's securely strapped in, he grabs the tape, pops it in the
cassette deck, cranks the volume, and presses play. As his ship
nears ground, he is reminded of an old airline slogan: It's the
only way to fly........
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Chapter 2
I remember the night we (Sam Long, Ralph O'Keefe, Jack Barrett,
Tracie Deveraux, and Tricia Foley) saw that meteor dropping
out of the sky. I also remember the next morning in place of a
crater, a strange fighter- And the sexiest pilot I had ever
known.
Nights Under the Blue Moon: The Autobiography of Teresa
Blair-Long
Ransey watches as his altimeter ticks off the feet. Two-hundred,
one-ninety, one-eighty, one-seventy..........
For the fifth time Ransey's hand moves for the ejection control,
and for the fifth time he yanks it back, reminding himself
that the ejection system is shot to hell. He reaches out his
hand again and this time, he doesn't flinch back. He reasons,
"How much harm is it going to do, if it's already dead?" He
yanks the lever-and suddenly the canopy is blown open. However,
the chair is not blown out. "Shit." He begins to fumble with the
restraints. However, it's too wet for him to really be able to
do anything with his hands. The rain, which now has complete
access to all the delicate electronics in his cockpit, is having
a holiday. For a brief second Ransey thinks about the laser
pistol he wears as a sidearm, but decides it would do little
good in this situation. The altimeter has shorted out at
thirty-five feet. "You know," thinks Ransey, "One would think
by now that a fighter craft's electronics would be
waterproof........." But there is no more time for wild
speculation. He manages to reseal the canopy just as his Stac
slams into the ground. The shock of the impact manages to throw
the fighter off the tarmac missing his intended landing site by
nearly two-hundred feet. Instead he slams nose-first into a
large area filled with tropical mud. Fortunately the mud bears
the brunt of the crash. His head hits the heads-up display
and is thrown back against the head rest, rendering him
unconscious. By now the fighter has skidded to a stop and is on
its side in the mud. The onboard computer after detecting
that the pilot is unconscious, switches itself to stand-by
mode.
* * * * * * * * * * *
The old Hummer jeep pulls to a stop. The front doors are flung
open and two people disembark. The driver is a youngish-looking
man, with just enough sorrow in his eyes to make him look
mature. A forelock of sandy-blond hair hangs over his right eye,
and he wears an Expeditionary Force insignia on the left breast
of his jacket, as well as a laser pistol in a worn leather
holster. The woman is tall, long-legged, and very attractive.
The snug-fitting flight suit compliments her athletic body, and
the insignia patch on her flight suit is that of the TAF.
"What the hell happened here?" asks the young man, eyeing the
apparent wreck with distaste. "Looks like someone dropped this
sucker right out of the sky." The lady does not answer, but
instead walks over to where the apparent cockpit is, and looks
inside. Pushing a lock of reddish-purple hair out of her face,
she peers through the canopy.
"Sam, I think there's someone in here!" she calls to her
companion. "Help me get him out of here!" Her friend steps over.
"What'd we find, another-" His eyes go wide. "Oh my Lord, it's
Ransey Kaylouse!" "Who?" asks the woman. "This guy is a legend
in the TAF! He has a string of kills as long as this fighter!
This guy turned the tide at Moramba Prime. We've gotta get him
out of there!" "Alright then, let's get this canopy open," she
says. "Nah, you can't open the canopy on these babies." She
looks at him quizzically. "You can't open the canopy?! What the
frigg kind of fighter is this?!" The young man smiles. "Teresa
Blair, you're looking at- well, I don't remember what the name
of it was, but this is like a miniature Arcon." He shoots her a
mischievous grin. "You know, I'd have thought that you, of all
people with all your Intelligence sources would know that."
She looks at him with playful annoyance. "Well, excuse me, Mr.
Sam Long, grandson of the famed Emmett Long, hero of
Tosh'rajhniesh, Mr. Gamma Ace..........." She takes a closer
look at the fighter. "Looks like there's something written
here..... Let me clear off some of this brush....... Ah, it says
'Stac'." "That's what it was called!" responds Sam triumphantly.
"But anyway, the top of the canopy only opens for ejections.
There should be an airlock here somewhere..." He walks around
the ship a couple of times before finally finding a hatch. "Ah,
this must be it." He grasps the handle of a panel next to it and
pulls downward. Inside the panel rests a ten-key com panel and
a lever. Sam reaches for the lever and yanks it downward.
The door opens-an inch or so.
"Oh shit......" Sam turns to Teresa. "Come on help me get this
door open!" After struggling for about five minutes, they
finally force the door open. Once inside, Teresa rushes up to
the cockpit and begins popping the seals on Ransey's pressure
helmet. By now Sam has joined her. "I've got a loaded injector
here, " he offers. "He looks like he could use a stimulant."
His gaze drifts to Jenny's photo on the console. "Looks like he
had one, too." "Hang on," whispers Teresa, more to herself
than her patient. "Just let me get this helmet off.......
There!" She tears the helmet off of his head.
* * * * * * * * * *
New Miami........... He was back at New Miami, with Jenny. He
was watching her, playing in the surf, getting knocked over by
waves............ The scene shifts. Now it's just before his
fighter is about to launch from the Antigone. "Just wait till
I get back," he'd said teasingly. "I've got a surprise for you."
That surprise had cost him two month's salary and more favors
than he cared to remember, and was resting in a small velvet
box in his flight suit pocket. He planned to spend the rest of
his life with her........... Suddenly the scene shifts again.
He's back at Fall Back Station, watching the first recon forces
fold for Earth. He had many a good comrade riding on those
vessels............ and the scene changes one last time. He
feels a slight pressure on his arm...........
And suddenly, the real world comes rushing in on him like a bat
out of hell. Slowly the image of a face begins to coalesce
before him. It is a delicate, beautiful face, with a pert nose,
upturned lips, sapphire eyes, and the reddish hair with the
purplish tint. His breath catches in his throat. No way in hell
can this be........... "Je.... Jenny?" he asks. The delicate,
beautiful face smiles sadly. "Sorry," she says apologetically.
"My name's Teresa Blair." She waves a hand to indicate Sam. "And
this is Sam Long." "Old Dinkerbutt's grandson.......
My condolences, kid......... Say aren't you the guy that saved
my squad's ass at Nomara'tho?" Sam nods. "Yep, that's me." He
grins slightly. "You should here some of the stuff Gramps calls
you........." Ransey smiles, in spite of the pain. "I heard some
of the stuff before we left for Earth." Sam stares at him,
open-mouthed for a minute. "You came here with the Recon Force?
I was with the Fifteenth. We took eighty-five percent losses-and
that was just after we entered atmosphere." Ransey smiles,
again. "Old number Nineteen for me. Almost all of our capital
ships went to the otherside in less then ten minutes. Our last
cruiser died with a troop ship......." "When's the main fleet
coming?" asks Sam anxiously. " 'Fraid not until Captain Ransey
J. Kaylouse returns with a report on what's going on down here."
Sam raises an eyebrow. "You'd think that after nineteen recon
groups sent and none returned, they'd get the idea." "They
weren't meant to return. The commanding officers used all of the
smaller recon groups as Kamikazes to destroy Hera's fighter
supply." "Then we all aren't supposed to be alive right now?"
"Everyone except my squadron. We were sent to get an evaluation
of the situation on Earth and then head to Tokyo Base to return
with the report to Fall Back Station on Tyrone." For the first
time, Teresa breaks into the discussion. "If it's repairs and
fuel you need, we can help you with that. We've got a fully
equipped Resistance base, including a fair stock of Bio-matter
and Av-gas." Ransey nods in gratitude. "Thank you very much.
I could also go for a place to stay and something to
eat............." Sam nods. "That we can also provide." "Just
one question though," asks Ransey. "Are we just going to leave
my fighter sitting here?" Teresa smiles. "Not quite." She cuts
her eyes to Sam.
"Hit it, Shorty." "Shorty? Is that what they're calling you
nowadays, Sam? Last thing I heard them calling you
was.........." But no one's listening.
Sam has a commo rig in the jeep, and he crosses over to it to
pick up the mike. "Fastball, Shorty. Big sucker, due south,
ninety degrees, mark six, two, niner. Take it." "Roger," comes
a voice over the speaker. Ten or so minutes later a large
military flat bed truck rumbles around the edge of the tarmac
and up to the overturned fighter. A second later seven officers
hop off and begin connecting various cables to his fighter
that are in turn connected to a giant wench on the the front
of the truck. Once the fighter has flopped back onto it's gear
a tech climbes into the cockpit and manually reconfigures
it to tank. It is then trundled up loading planks onto back of
the truck.
Suddenly Ransey feels a bit light headed. His knees start to
buckle. Fortunately, Sam is a very astute observer. He and
Teresa move to Ransey's sides and begin to support him. "Come
on, let's get you back to the base." Ransey smiles faintly.
"I'm afraid I won't be much help to your Resistance force for a
while. I think I need a break from fighting........."
He doesn't stay conscious long enough to finish his thoughts.
Teresa and Sam put him in the back seat of the jeep, and set out
for their jungle base.
Ransey is suddenly awakened by a dim light flashing on. He
slowly opens his eyes and finds himself on a bed. He sees Teresa
Blair stepping out of her flight suit and crawling under the
covers. "Wh....... what's going on?" he croaks. "Sleeping
quarters at this base are hard to come by," she explains.
"Since I'm the only one with a room to myself, we decided to put
you up here. Besides, I wondered what it would be like to sleep
with one of the TAF's greatest pilots." Ransey starts slowly
backing away from Teresa, "Ah, look, I don't sleep with girls
I've just met." Teresa laughs, a sparkling, melodious sound.
"I just meant sleep next to, not have sex with." She pushes
herself to a sitting-up position, her arms wrapped around her
knees. "Although I wouldn't mind option number two." Ransey
laughs self-consciously. "I'm flattered, Teresa, but my fiance
was on one of those ships that bought it over this planet.
So please understand if I'm not exactly in a courting mood for
awhile." Teresa nods understandingly. "I know how you feel. My
boyfriend flew with the resistance around the time RecForce
17 came home. His Gamma was destroyed over New Sydney. He was
trying to cover a civilian transport's escape. I'm still not
quite over him..........." Her voice trails off. "Lovers come
and lovers go, Apocalypso," misquotes Ransey dryly. "I don't
know what would happen if I were to get into another
relationship with a soldier. I don't think I could handle the
uncertainty. There are just too many unknowns. Maybe after the
war........... but not now." All of a sudden feeling paternal,
Ransey pulls Teresa into an embrace.
Meanwhile, down in the hanger bay, Chief Mechanic Jack Barrett
and Chief Pilot Ralph O'Keefe are sipping lukewarm coffee while
playing poker. Jack is a taller-than-average Australian,
with a stocky build and oversized glasses. Ralph also has
glasses, but they're aviators with yellow-tinted lenses. He is
tall and thin, with the mass of his reddish-brown hair swept
to one side. "Okay, Jack," he announces, with a clear
Northwestern accent, "read 'em and weep. Four of a kind." "So
sorry," responds Jack, his Brooklynite accent slightly distorted
by the cigar clenched in one corner of the mouth. "Straight
Flush. Looks like I win again, cuz." "Ah, son of a bitch........
Well, at least we're not playing for money." "Who said we
weren't? I've been debiting your losses out of your credit
account, and so far you are in debt for one-thousand and thirty
credits. Time to pay up." Ralph merely smiles. "You said we're
not playing for money, right after I cleaned out your account
last night. And if that's not enough...." He extracts a
photograph from his jacket pocket. "I have a picture of you and
the logistics officer in the supply closet last night." "Um, on
the other hand, let's just call it even." Jack is about to take
another sip of his coffee, when he sees the ground doors of the
hanger bay trundling open.
Ralph sees it too, and his mouth drops open as he sees what's
being towed in. "What the hell is this!" he screams, slamming
his coffee cup down. The sudden movements send the coffee flying
in every direction. By now Jack is on his feet. "No way in hell
am I servicing that thing!!! I told them that if they damaged
their fighters once more before we leave then they'll just have
to fly them broken!" "Sorry Jack, but the pilot needs your help.
I don't think he could have repaired the fighter on his own."
replies Sam as he puts a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Where is this
damned pilot now?" he asks, shrugging Sam's hand off his
shoulder. "He's crashing in Teresa's quarters. I swear that man
can take a licking and keep on ticking." says Sam unconcernedly.
"Is Teresa there?!" Jack asks, his eyes bugging out like someone
had punched him in the stomach. "Yeah, she went down for the
night about ten minutes ago." replies Sam as he runs his hands
over the cold superalloy hull of the damaged fighter. "What!
Ah son of a bitch!" scream Ralph and Jack simultaneously
before running out the hanger door and down the hallways of the
complex. Not bothering to even knock, Jack and Ralph burst
through the door of Teresa's quarters. Teresa and Ransey, by now
fallen asleep in their embrace are awakened by the pounding
of Jack and Ralph's feet along the steel floor.
"Teresa, what are you doing with this jet jockey? And more
importantly, what were you doing with him?!" yells Ralph in
between breaths of air. "Hey, you two jackasses, who in the hell
gave you the right to come bursting into Teresa's quarters
in the middle of the night?! One of you better have a good
reason, or I'm going to start kicking some ass!" roars Ransey
as he stands up from the bed. Ransey easily towers over the two
men by several inches, making Jack and Ralph look like two of
the seven dwarfs. "Now calm down, Ransey, " says Teresa as she
takes hold of Ransey's left arm, as if to hold him back.
"They're just friends of mine, and they were worried about me
being with a new pilot." Teresa's words seem to calm Ransey
down as music would calm the savage beast.
"Who is this fighter jock anyway?" asks Jack, their original
intent of coming behind them. "Why, don't you recognize him?
He's the great war hero Ransey Kaylouse!" responds Teresa
excitedly. "Oh, so you're one of our army's big killers. I bet
you and your buddies get a blast out of running your fighters
to hell and back and then telling the poor mechanic that he has
to fix it every time, don't you?" responds Jack, his eyes in a
sort of evil, convicting, stare. "You'll have to excuse Jack.
He's our mechanic, he's not all too fond of having to
continually repair fighters that should never have been damaged.
So, getting drafted into the army sort of pissed him off. So
when ever he gets the chance he tries to make any pilot or
soldier look like they're total dumbasses.. That's why he's our
chief mechanic down here at Acupulco base. In fact, he's our
only mechanic." explains Teresa as she reseats Ransey on the
bed. "And Ralph, who is he, and what does he do around here?"
asks Ransey, keeping an eye on the two. "Ralph is our chief
pilot and resident card shark. Jack has been fighting over who
gets me, although he already knows my answer," responds Teresa.
Ralph spreads his hands in frustration.
"What can I say? I'm a one-woman man." "I certainly hope so,"
comments a young woman, wrapped in a bathrobe and carrying
an automatic.
She looks about twenty-one, with a well-formed physique and
shoulder-length sapphire hair that is swept to one side of her
head. Ralph loops an arm around her waist. "Ransey, this is
Tricia Foley, our chief of security...... And my wife." Tricia
blinks once or twice. "I was wondering what was going on. It
sounded like a raccoon got caught in a blender." "What we came
down here for," explains Ralph, "was to play chaperone for these
two." "Thank you, Ralph and Jack," comments Teresa dryly, "But
my sex life is none of your concern. Now, if you don't mind,
I think everyone else in this base would like to get some sleep
now, including us." Jack mutters something in German under his
breath and strides out of the room. "Well, we'd better turn in
too," suggests Tricia. Ralph nods and allows himself to be lead
to their quarters. The hatchway, with nothing blocking it,
slides shut. "Is your command staff always this protective
of you?" asks Ransey. "Only when I have a handsome pilot in my
bed," Teresa replies gamely. Lightly, almost fearfully,
he caresses the underside of her chin. Something in her eyes....
Next thing he knows, they are kissing. But this is no simple,
friendly kiss. For a moment, he is reminded of a face, out of
his past, a face whose body is no more than a painful memory.
Jenny...........
Slowly, Teresa pulls away. "I'm sorry, but I just can't......"
Ransey nods. "I understand. I don't think I could either......"
He slumps down on the bed. A moment later, the room goes dark.
Ransey lays facing the ceiling for a few minutes before finally
drifting off to sleep. Jenny....... I'm sorry.......
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