For the sake of the FFML, I will C&C you!
(or at least *try* to -- I never get as much C&C done as I really
oughta....)
G.L. Sandborn wrote on 11/13/2003, 9:19 PM:
> FOX Squadron
> Episode 11 First Mission, Part 1
> by G.L. Sandborn
Hooray! Another chapter of one of the fics on my "always on the
lookout for" list!
>
> Jeff kissed his wife at the door, enduring one last
> inspection, before heading to his office on the first floor. He
> planned on checking to make sure everyone was at their posts
> before stopping down at the Mess Hall to see what sort of cooks
> they had acquired.
"Last post, 4077 MASH? What the heck is that?"
> Passing through his outer office, he gratefully accepted a
> steaming cup of coffee from his new secretary, Maggie. He could
> see on his desk a small stack of reports all ready for his
> signature. Taking a sip, he nodded his approval.
> "You make this?" he asked.
> "Yes, sir," Maggie replied with wide innocent eyes. "Is it
> okay?"
> "Very good. Nice job." He added a smile.
> Maggie giggled like a little girl, bouncing lightly on her
> heels. In that posture, she actually looked like a little girl.
> "I know the enlistment papers say you're sixteen but just
> how old are you really?" Jeff asked before taking another sip of
> his coffee.
Uh, Jeff, isn't one of the Command Skills knowing which
questions *not*
to ask?
> The girl's smile faded and she lowered her head. "I'll be
> fifteen in three months."
Now, see, you made her sad. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?
> Jeff leaned over to look into the Admin Office. He could
> see Cindy watching her prize pupil carefully. He wasn't all that
Sug: "...he hadn't been all that..."
> keen on taking children for office staff in the first place but
> having a fourteen year-old running his office left him feeling
> particularly uncomfortable. She belonged in a junior high school
> somewhere doing homework and worrying about what boys liked her,
> not running the office of an RDF squadron commander. Trying to
That's true, but Jeff's remembering *his* version of teenagerhood.
Post-Rain-of-Death Earth makes children grow up a lot faster... sadly
enough.
Heh. Jeff and his wife don't have any kids of their own. I bet
he's
going to end up playing father figure more than he anticipates.
> hide his apprehension, he turned again to his young secretary.
> She looked like she needed some encouragement.
> "Well, I'm sure you'll do a good job. Just listen to
> Lieutenant Wallace and everything will work out." He resisted
> the impulse to pat the girl on her head. "I'll be down in
> Communications, then Operations, Maintenance, Intel, and finally
> the Mess Hall if you need me."
> He could see the girl trying to remember it all, her cute
> little face screwing itself into a worried series of contortions.
> "That was... uh,... Could you go over that again?" she asked.
> "Why don't you write it down?" he suggested.
> Pulling out her note pad, she started to write, then stopped
> with a quizzical expression. "How do you spell
> 'communications'?"
<wince> Obviously, the Post-RoD education system isn't what it
used to
be, either. Just grin and bear it, Jeff, things'll work out in time.
> The girl was just getting to her second 'm' when the phone
> rang. She froze and stared at it like it was going to explode.
> "Maybe one of us should answer that," Jeff suggested, hoping
> the girl would take the hint.
> Instead of answering, she nodded and frowned at the ringing
> phone.
Calm, Jeff. Don't pull your hair out.
> By the fifth or sixth ring, Jeff sighed. "I guess since no
> one else is going to get that, why don't you answer the phone?"
> "Okay," she chirped. Picking up the receiver, she swallowed
> hard and said: "Colonel Stuart's office, Private Kopinsky
> speaking."
See? It's not so bad.
> Jeff smiled when she looked his way as if to check his
> approval. Megan wiggled happily in her chair and listened to the
> caller.
Like working with a puppy.
> "Okay, I'll ask," she said, covering the phone's mouthpiece
> with her tiny hand. "It's Jerry - I mean Private Hughes at the
> main gate. He says there's a man here to see you."
> "Did he get a name?"
> Maggie blinked. "Oh, I forgot to ask."
She'll learn.
> It took a few moments, between Maggie's giggles at what the
> private was saying, before she had the answer. The man asking to
> get in was none other than William 'Bill' Kidd.
> "Have him escorted in. I'll be in my office." Jeff sighed
> as he turned away. So much for breakfast.
> Settling into his chair, he was only partially surprised to
Sug: "...mildly surprised..."
> see Cindy standing across from his desk. Not only could she
> apparently read minds, she was sneaky-quiet as well.
Ninja clerks?
> "There's a transport on its way in, Sir. VIP all the way.
> We also received a Top Secret communiqu� by hyper-secure channel
> about ten minutes ago." She handed him a tiny disk containing
> the encrypted message.
"Communique" came through looking like "communiqu?". I suspect
Microsoft Office.
> Nodding, he set the disk aside. "Anything else?"
> Cindy glanced back at Maggie's desk before leaning closer as
> if to keep their conversation private. "She'll do better, Sir.
> I just need to work with her some more."
> "I'm sure she'll do fine. She's young and inexperienced. I
> expect that. A month or so from now, she'll be a veteran," he
> said, more to reassure himself than his Admin Officer.
"And if I keep saying that, maybe I'll start believing it."
Y'know, with all this going on, I can't help but think the
author is
setting these characters up for a classic baptism-by-fire.
> "Thank you, Sir," she replied with a relieved salute before
> turning to leave.
> Using a key he wore on a chain around his neck, he unlocked
> the top left drawer of his desk and flipped open the display on a
> foot square flat box. Inserting the disk he got from Cindy, he
Sug: "Foot-square"
"...the disk Cindy had given him..."
> placed his thumb on the reader and watched a series of numbers
> appear on the tiny screen. Entering his own code, he pressed the
> 'decode' button and waited.
> Moments later, the message appeared. He grimaced at what he
> was reading. They couldn't be serious. This wasn't what his
> people were trained for.
A bit choppy.
> "Colonel? Mr. Kidd is here," came Maggie's voice from the
> doorway.
"Bill" Kidd, huh? Took me this long to get that one.
> With a sigh, he pressed the clear button and watched the
> little disk dissolve before closing the decoder. All this
Dissolve into what? Nitpick, I know, but wouldn't the remains
gum up
his reader gizmo?
> obviously had to do with the currently inbound transport and its
> passenger but it would have to wait. He had more pressing
> matters to attend to.
> "Have him wait a moment. Offer him some coffee or
> something. Find Captain Fox and Major Baker and have them report
> to me," he said.
"Have them bring a bottle of whiskey, a gun, and two bullets."
> "Yes, sir."
> Jeff swiveled his chair around to look out towards the
> tarmac. Letting out a deep sigh, he stared at the Veritechs
> lined up outside. The orders he received this morning in the
"he received this morning" is kind of redundant.
> top-secret message was bad enough but now he had to deal
"were". "orders" is plural.
> unexpectedly with Mr. Kidd. Despite his intentions of meeting
> with the local power broker, he wasn't ready for it this morning.
> He had bigger fish to fry.
> "You sent for us, sir?" Katherine's voice came from behind.
They didn't come in through the door?
> "We've got a visitor. A Mr. Kidd has decided to pay us a
> little visit this morning." Jeff swiveled around to look at his
> two officers. "Any ideas why?"
> "Well, might have something to do with what happened last
> night." Bobbi Jo yawned and plopped down on the sofa. "I
> suspect he's here to see what your reaction is."
> "You mean he's here to see if we put the town off limits,"
> Jeff added.
Sug: "Jeff clarified."
> "Possibly," Bobbi Jo admitted. "It could just be a courtesy
> call."
> "Damn strange time for it."
Oooh, that depends on Mr. The Kidd's... "motivation."
> "Last night's incident might just be a coincidence. After
> all, he doesn't control the GMP."
> "Yes, but does the GMP control him." Jeff turned enough in
"...him?
> his chair to regard the pensive Katherine still standing just
> inside the closed door. "What's your take on this, Captain?"
Jeff's desk faces away from the door?
> Clearing her throat, Katherine leaned against the doorframe
> and crossed her ankles. "Well, I agree his visit is suspiciously
> timed. However, it is not unusual for the mayor of a local town
> to visit the base to meet the new RDF commander. Small towns
> thrive around RDF bases and I suspect Osage City is no
> different."
> "Noted," Jeff said, looking again out the window. "Is there
> anything I should know that I don't already know before we meet
> this person?"
> "Just a word of warning," Bobbi Jo said, shifting her
> position on the couch. "He's not to be trusted. Whatever he
> says, I would verify before believing."
> "Good advice. Anything else?"
> "I would consider this a recon mission," Bobbi Jo said. Her
> eyes burned with interest in what was to come. "He's probably
> also here to find out what sort of man he will have to deal
> with."
Lots of opportunities for graft and smuggling where a local
military
base is involved. Unless the CO is a straight-arrow type like Jeff.
> Jeff swiveled around to face the door again. "Let's hope I
> don't disappoint him. What do you say we meet this former
> handyman turned mayor?"
Jeff, buddy, I don't think there's any way you could *not*
disappoint
him, unless you suddenly turn into someone greedy and sleazy.
> He buzzed Maggie on the intercom and a few moments later,
> she escorted their guest into the office. He was everything Jeff
> expected. Short, barely five and a half feet tall, and built
> like a barrel with legs. William Kidd's face looked like it had
> seen more than his share of alley fights, his nose slightly
> flattened and bent. Two dark eyes peeked out from under what
> looked like a single bushy eyebrow. When the man smiled,
> numerous teeth were missing. The ones that remained had an odd
> green tint. Approaching Jeff, the man held out a hand that
> resembled a bear paw, huge and hairy.
Ew. Obviously being the local Big Cheese doesn't include a
dental plan.
> "I'm very pleased to meet you, Colonel," Mr. Kidd said. "I
> hope this isn't a bad time."
> Jeff shook the man's hand. Kidd had a grip that could dent
> a Veritech wing. "Not at all. I'm sorry we won't be able to
> spend much time this morning. We're kind of busy around here."
> "Oh, I understand completely." Mr. Kidd continued to smile
> like a burglar casing his next target. "I'm certain the RDF has
> much more important things to do than to entertain the humble
> mayor of a small town."
> Jeff nodded and returned the man's smile, in a more
> noncommittal way, before introducing Katherine and Bobbi Jo.
> Naturally, the redheaded Intelligence Officer gushed over their
> visitor, sizing him up without having to ask too many questions.
"Gushed?" This must be her "I'm really a blonde" act. Wonder if
Kidd'll fall for it?
> Once everyone was seated, Mr. Kidd looked around the room.
> "I always wondered what the inside of this place looked
> like," he said like a perspective buyer. "Mighty fancy."
Sug: "he said, (rather) like..."
Interesting attitude. I wonder if he expects this office to be
"on the
market" sometime before too long?
> "We like it," Jeff said, rocking back in his seat. The man
> had obviously not had a bath in a few weeks.
Big fish in a small, stagnant pond, apparently.
> "Anyway, I just want to take this opportunity to welcome you
> to our little community and hope you and your base personnel will
> not hesitate to avail yourselves of the services our town
> offers," Mr. Kidd said with an almost sincere expression.
> "Well, after what happened last night, I'm of two minds
> about your little town," Jeff said, watching for any reaction
> from his guest that might suggest he knew more than he was
> letting on.
Sug: "...watching Kidd's reaction for any signs that might..."
> "I want to assure you, Colonel, that my people had nothing
> to do with that." Mr. Kidd slid a little forward on his chair.
Oozing earnestness, sincerity, honesty, and concern, no doubt.
> "I was as shocked as anyone to discover the GMP in my town."
"Shocked! SHOCKED, I tell you!"
> "No doubt," Jeff said, his smile shrinking to an almost
> satisfied expression.
If you're trying to get him to think you're buying this load, Jeff,
you're not doing well.
> "One of my night patrolmen arrived on the scene just moments
> after your people left in their rovers. The very idea that men
> sworn to protect the new United World Government would accost a
> woman in such a way makes me embarrassed to clam membership in
> such a noble organization," Mr. Kidd said, his hands gesturing
What noble organization? the UWG? And "member"? *He's* got a lofty
opinion of himself....
> wildly as he talked. "You will be pleased to know that we
> captured all five of them."
> "That's good work, Mr. Kidd," Bobbi Jo noted like she was
> impressed. "I wonder if it would be possible for me to see
> them."
> "Ah, I wish it were so." Mr. Kidd shook his head like he
> actually regretted what he had to say. "Their commanding officer
> bailed them out at first light."
"And left me holding the bag, dammit. I'm going to hold out for more
hush money next-- er, did I say that out loud?"
> "Odd, I don't recall a GMP transport passing through this
> base." Jeff frowned at the man, hoping he could back him into a
> corner.
Odd question. There must be lots of spots to land a chopper, and
who-knows-how-many leftover municipal airstrips.
D'oh! Jeff is trying to corner him. Somehow I missed that at first.
> "Their craft - a most advanced vehicle, I must admit -
> landed in a field just outside of town. I believe they were part
> of an intelligence gathering exercise down along the Arkansas
> Protectorate border. They weren't even supposed to be in our
> town."
Now *how* would he know *that*?
> Jeff could see a thin trickle of sweat roll down the man's
> face. He was either very warm in their air-conditioned room or
> lying through his teeth.
"No, no, it's a glanular problem. Runs in my family. Sweatius
Piggiutis is the medical term."
> "That certainly explains their interest in Captain Parino,"
> Bobbi Jo noted with a wry smile. "Perhaps they were just looking
> for a good time and she appeared willing."
What, doing intel along the AP border makes GMPs hot for Zentraedi
chicks? BJ's two lines here seem mutually contradictory.
> "Uh... yes. Of course."
> "And naturally nobody from the bar led them to the Captain."
> Kidd's expression of slight panic only lasted a heartbeat
> before he shook his head and forced a soft chuckle. "Now
> Colonel, Osage City is full of transients. I can't be
> responsible for everyone passing through. Naturally, if one
> proves to be a troublemaker, we deal with him. You can check our
> arrest records. We've detained and deported twenty transients
> this month alone. It's worse in the winter when they're looking
> for someplace warm to stay."
"Transients." What a wonderfully vague catchall phrase.
> "So you have no objections to Zentraedi in your town," Jeff
> said.
> "Or natives," Katherine added.
> "Injuns?" Kidd asked with raised eyebrows. "We don't get
> many of those around here. I hear most of them live out in Oakie
> lands."
<boggle> Did this guy actually say "Injuns"? I'd almost say that
breaks my suspension-of-disbelief, but I've learned never to
overestimate the potential for bigotry and blind idiocy.
> "A good number live right here on this base." Jeff leaned
> forward until his elbows rested on his desk.
"Like my wife, and damnear all my pilots (which latter fact I'm trying
hard not to think about....)"
> Mr. Kidd glanced between the others before frowning down at
> the floor. "We are a small town, Colonel. Most folks here
> abouts don't know from Zentraedi or Injuns. I imagine you'll
<sarcasm> Easy. The "Injuns" mostly have black hair, the Zentraedi
have really strange-colored hair. </sarcasm>
> find a few folks just about everywhere that don't like one or the
> other."
> "I believe the question was, would the people of this base
> be safe in Osage City?" Jeff asked like he was inquiring about
> the number of ice cream shops.
Sug: "...the personnel on this base..." Jeff asked mildly, as if he
were inquiring...
> Mr. Kidd looked up suddenly. "Absolutely. I give you my
> word."
<snort>
> "Well, I'm convinced," Bobbi Jo chirped in an almost comical
> manner. It sounded to Jeff like she was being more sarcastic
> than sincere.
Careful, BJ -- your "gullible airhead" mask is slipping.
> Katherine just hummed her acceptance and added a nod. There
> were times, despite her RDF training and living most of her adult
> life in the white man's world, she could be as introspective and
> hard to read as any among her people.
Not sure "Introspective" fits with what I think you're trying to
convey, here. Maybe "shuttered" or "inscrutable" or something.
> "That's good to hear," Jeff said, his smile growing. "After
> the stories we got from the Destroid troop across the way, I was
> worried there might be some sort of on-going problem in your
> town."
> At the mention of the Destroid troop, Mr. Kidd seemed to
> come alive, once again gesturing wildly as he talked. "I can
> explain that incident, Colonel. The trooper was arrested while
> drunk and disorderly. When he resisted arrest, a patrolman we
> had hired only a couple of weeks before took matters into his own
> hands. Neither I, nor the local police department, condone the
> use of unnecessary force. The beating that poor trooper received
> was totally unnecessary and inexcusable. I might note here,
> Colonel, that it was members of the Osage City Police that
> rescued the trooper and probably saved his life."
"You moron! Don't kill the goose that lays the golden eggs!"
> "I see," Jeff said, hoping his skepticism didn't show.
> "The perpetrator of that beating was summarily dismissed and
> told to leave town the next morning." Mr. Kidd slumped back in
> his chair like he had successfully absolved the whole town of any
> responsibility.
> "No charges against the patrolman?" Katherine gasped.
> "I don't hire thugs, Captain," Mr. Kidd said with a scowl.
<cough>
> "And I don't tolerate people who work for the city to act like
Sug: "...acting (or) behaving like thugs..."
> thugs. Yes, we probably should have held the man for assault and
> battery but would have made the incident more public than it
> already was."
> "Good thing it was just some poor slob from the base," Bobbi
> Jo added, her expression darkening.
> "You don't understand." Mr. Kidd's hands slapped his knees
> in resignation. "The people of Osage City depend on their Police
> Department to maintain order. That requires a degree of trust on
> both sides. His actions resulted in damage to that trust. The
> fastest way I could see to restore it was to get rid of the man
> as quickly as possible." Mr. Kidd turned to Jeff, pleading his
> case. "Don't you see? A public trial, airing our hiring mistake
> would have made the citizens question all the other police
> officers. I can't have that. It would totally destroy the
> mutual trust we have for each other. The town would have
> descended into an armed camp; the police on one side and the
> townspeople on the other."
If this guy weren't obviously as crooked as an epileptic snake, I'd
actually say this was fairly plausible, from a "frontier justice"
standpoint.
> Jeff rocked back in his seat again. "I don't approve of
> your methods but in all fairness, that's none of my business. I
> just don't want a repeat of what happened to the trooper."
> "It won't happen again," Mr. Kidd said in a reassuring
> manner. "I trust the patrolmen I now have and can assure you
> that such incidents won't happen again."
"Until the GMP meets my new asking price, that-- oh, did I say that out
loud again?"
> "Good. Then we understand one another," Jeff said, getting
> to his feet.
"I trust you about as far as I an throw a cheesecake underwater."
> "Absolutely, Colonel." Mr. Kidd stood up and extended his
> hand. "I hope this little chat has cleared up any
> misunderstandings that might have existed. We certainly welcome
> your people in town - Zentraedi or... otherwise. It's just good
> for business."
Katherine: "Speaking as an 'otherwise,' I have to say that's awfully
whi-- er, big of you."
> The two shook hands with satisfied smiles. "I think we can
> extend the open city policy here - for now," Jeff said, looking
> down at the shorter man. "Feel free to stop by anytime, Mr.
> Kidd."
> "Thank you, Colonel. Perhaps next time you will favor me
> with a visit," Mr. Kidd said, his expression becoming almost like
> he was issuing a challenge.
> "Perhaps."
"After I get a full complement of planes, and pilots, and a full staff,
and unlimited ammo, fuel, and spares supplies. Which will be several
months *after* Hell freezes over."
>
> Watching Mr. Kidd waddle through the Colonel's outer office,
> Bobbi Jo crossed her arms and rocked her weight over onto one
> leg. "So, what do you think of our resident power broker,
> Captain?"
> Katherine frowned at the outer office. "I've seen better
> things come out of the backside of a horse."
> "Still, he's the most powerful man in the region. Kinda
> makes a girl think," Bobbi Jo chided.
> "Think about what?"
"Why he can't afford a dentist. Or soap."
> "It might be a profitable thing to hook up with such a man."
> Bobbi Jo cast a sly look Katherine's way. The Captain, however,
> was having none of it.
> "Not my type."
"After all, I'm 'otherwise'."
> "He's rich."
> Katherine finally regarded Bobbi Jo with an ill expression.
> "Money does not alter the level of disgust I feel when looking at
> him."
Not sure why BJ is twitting Katherine, here, unless she just likes
pushing people's buttons. At first, I thought she was suggesting
something strategic.
> Jeff cleared his throat in a manner that suggested he
> thought the discussion had gone on long enough. "If you two are
> through at the meat market, we have other matters to attend to."
> "Like?" Bobbi Jo prompted, looking over her shoulder at the
> Colonel.
> "Like that transport taxiing in," Jeff replied, indicating a
> small executive-style jet transport just turning onto the parking
> tarmac.
> Both women turned to examine the jet with serious
> expressions.
> "Mitsubishi 4000, crew of two, can carry up to six
> passengers," Bobbi Jo said.
> "Standard basic RDF white paint job, has a 6,000 mile range
> and can cruise at 350 miles-per-hour," Katherine added.
Wouldn't a pilot use "knots" instead of mph?
> "Either of you notice anything unusual about it?" Jeff
> asked.
> Katherine was the first to respond. "Now that you mention
> it, I don't see any identification numbers."
> "Just a single..." Bobbi Jo paused and squinted at the jet.
> "An old United Nations flag on its tail. Now THAT's weird."
> "That makes it a...?" he prompted.
Recycled a/c that someone forgot to repaint?
> "Diplomatic flight," Bobbi Jo responded with a hint of
> disgust in her voice.
> "Obviously someone who wants to distance himself or herself
> from the current World Government while still representing it."
Interesting. The UN is still around? As a subsidiary part of the UWG?
> Jeff watched the jet jerk to a halt in front of the north hangar,
> far enough out to make a statement about its relationship to
> those craft housed at the base. His distrust at the purpose of
> this mission mutated into an instant dislike for whomever was
> leading it.
A bit hasty, there, but that's natural.
> "What's this all about, Colonel?" Katherine asked.
> Shaking his head, he leaned back in his seat. "Don't really
> know. Got a message this morning about a VIP arriving. All it
> said was you and I were to be present and to cooperate fully."
> "Not much to go on," Bobbi Jo noted. She tilted her head
> slightly when the aircraft's boarding door opened.
> Jeff agreed, his eyes locked on the open aircraft cabin
> door. First, two young men in civilian dress clothes exited the
> craft and milled about near the wing, stretching and yawning.
> Nothing unusual there. Flying in such a small transport craft
> had a confining effect on just about everyone.
> The last to deplane caused Jeff to sit up. The visiting VIP
> was obviously a woman. Dressed in business attire, she adjusted
> her sunglasses and started for the Command Center's door.
No base escort? She must have been here before.
> Jeff watched her until she entered the building. Her
> aggressive strides and indifferent expression suggested Ozark
> Base was not where she wanted to be.
I think "stride" should not be pluarlized, there.
> Moments later, a nervous Maggie announced their visitor
> before scampering back to the relative safety of her desk, her
> eyes never leaving the mysterious woman.
> Before Jeff could say anything, the woman raised a hand
> while her eyes swept the room. "I am Ambassador Simone Lemieux
> representing the United World Government," she said in a voice
> tinged with an old world accent. I trust you are Colonel Jeffrey
> Lawrence?"
Missing start-quote for her second line.
> "Welcome to Ozark Base, Ambassador Lemieux," he answered
> before indicating his two fellow officers. "This is --"
> "Captain Katherine Fox," she finished with a perfunctory
> smile towards Katherine. Turning her eyes towards Bobbi Jo, she
> frowned. "I asked that only yourself and Captain Fox be
> present."
> "Captain Baker is this squadron's Intelligence Officer. I
> have no secrets from her." Jeff almost grimaced at the
> forcefulness of his reply.
Diplomacy is not Jeff's strong suite, I notice.
> "Indeed," Simone said, eyeing Bobbi Jo like a peasant.
> "She's most knowledgeable about the region and its
> inhabitants," Jeff offered, not certain if it had anything to do
> with the Ambassador's mission or not.
Fishing, Jeff?
> The two women surveyed each other as two opponents would
> before a fight. Jeff prayed Bobbi Jo would demonstrate her
> training more than her instincts.
> With a sigh of resignation, Ambassador Lemieux leveled a
> hard expression Jeff's way. "Captain, please close the door."
> Katherine and Bobbi Jo exchanged looks as if trying to
> figure out which Captain she was talking to. Bobbi Jo finally
> broke the impasse by rolling her eyes and doing the task.
Actually, she and Katherine were doing rock-paper-scissors via Female
Telepathy.
> "I trust this room is free of listening devices," the
> Ambassador said dropping her small valise on Jeff's desk.
"Oh, sure, we snipped the microphones off all the video cameras.
Unless somebody starts lip-reading us, we're all set."
> "The room is sterile," Bobbi Jo replied in a low voice.
> Jeff could see her distrust as she scowled at the back of the
> Ambassador's head.
> "Fine." Opening her valise, the Ambassador removed a plain
> folder before regarding Jeff with an expression that suggested
> she was a woman used to people obeying her every command. "What
Must...supress...hentai...comment....
> is said in this room is not to go beyond these walls."
> "What ever it is, I'm sure will not be repeated," Jeff said,
> crossing his arms and leaning back against the windowsill. There
> was something about this woman that bothered him. She seemed too
> sure of herself and too suspicious of people he had come to
> trust.
Typical home-office flunky, in other words.
> "Colonel, do you know how many micronization chambers the
> Zentraedi have in the Arkansas Protectorate?" the Ambassador
> asked like a schoolteacher giving an exam.
> "One. Located outside of Little Rock."
> "There used to be only one. Now there are two."
> Jeff heard Katherine gasp. "Where did they get the second?"
> "From us," the Ambassador replied as if it were common
> knowledge.
> "Forgive me for saying so but have you people lost your
> minds? Do you have any idea how the Barony of York, not to
> mention the United Confederate States will react when they find
> out?"
> "Colonel, the numbers of Zentraedi in the Protectorate are
> growing every day. Refugees from all over the Western Hemisphere
> are flowing into the zone in unprecedented numbers." Ambassador
> Lemieux cocked her head slightly as if waiting for some reaction.
> When Jeff only drew a deep breath and said nothing, she pressed
> on. "It takes thirty minutes to micronize a full-sized
> Zentraedi. The chamber can only operate two, maybe three hours
> at a time before it must be left for twelve hours to recharge.
> That means one chamber can only micronize twelve Zentraedi a
> day."
Nit: those numbers don't add up. Were you thinking of a 9-10 hour
recharge time?
Sug: "...micronize between eight and twelve Zentraedi every 24hrs."
> "Okay, so they have a little backlog down at the shrink-wrap
> department? Considering what little they have to do in the
> Protectorate, I can't see how that is a problem," Jeff said,
> beginning to feel annoyed at both the Ambassador and the UWG.
> "I don't think you fully understand their position," the
> Ambassador said in a condescending tone. "Their food situation
> is precarious under the best of conditions. Micronized, they
> have sufficient to feed themselves and all the new arrivals."
> "So giving them a second chamber allows them to micronize
> enough people to keep them docile," Jeff noted, still not pleased
> with the news.
Makes sense. American food aid to Stalin's USSR was justified partly
for similar reasons, IIRC.
> "Precisely. And, since the majority of the new arrivals are
> from the lands to the east, the second is located just ten miles
> from the New Madrid Falls."
> Jeff couldn't help his jaw dropping slightly. The New
> Madrid Falls was on the old Mississippi River. Under the
> Zentraedi 'Rain of Death' bombardment, a well-known fault line in
The New Madrid fault, natch.
> the area broke loose and a section of land was pushed up almost
> fifty feet. The result was what people called Lake Madrid,
> terminating at a spectacular horseshoe-shaped waterfall. In more
> peaceful times, it would have become a new tourist attraction.
> Under their current conditions, it was little more than a
> curiosity that marked the boundary of the Barony, the UCS, the
> Protectorate and lands of the United World Government. In terms
> of military maneuvering, it was one of the hottest sections of
> land in the world.
I need a map.
Lovely. A quad-border point, with all four parties ready to go to war
against the other three. The Yorkies must be especially inflamed, with
such a big plum being waved in their faces.
> "Did it ever occur to any of you that such location might be
> objectionable to certain concerned parties?" Jeff finally asked.
After he jacked his jaw up off the floor.
> "There have been official protests lodged," the Ambassador
> admitted. "And we have been in constant contact with all three
> governments."
> "I can just imagine," Jeff said sarcastically. He knew that
> the Zentraedi leader, Commander Bokon, did not suffer fools
> gladly and allowing him to dangle such a prize in front of the
> highly excitable Yorkies and their sometime-allies, the Grays,
> was just asking for trouble.
Given how badly he needs that chamber, Bokon does not strike me as
being very smart. He's willing to risk an nigh-irreplaceable item for
the sake of baiting his enemies.
> "We have been asked to mediate a conference where all
> aspects of this issue will be discussed and, with any luck,
> resolved," the Ambassador said as if she had no doubt of her
> success.
> "Good for you," Jeff said, standing up with a sigh. "So,
> you want us to refuel your runabout out there and wave bon voyage
> from the tarmac?"
> "No, Colonel," the Ambassador said icily. "Each delegation
> is allowed to bring two escorts to the conference."
> Jeff looked over his shoulder at the two young men lounging
> next to the transport. "Looks like you picked well enough."
Jeff's being obtuse. Deliberately, or desperately, I wonder?
> "They are my assistants." Ambassador Lemieux's demeanor
> grew colder. "I was referring to a pair of military escorts."
> As their eyes locked, Jeff could feel a battle of wills
> developing. He had a bad feeling about where this was going.
> "I don't have two pilots I can spare," he said as if the
> issue was closed.
"But I can loan you two of my office staff. They're military. Really!"
> "Colonel, you were ordered to cooperate fully with me in
> this mission. Therefore, you are to take orders from me. I will
> not stand for your flippant attitude endangering this mission.
> The peace of the entire sector hangs in the balance."
Much more hot air, and she's going to float away.
> Crossing his arms, Jeff glared back at the Ambassador. "I
> am cooperating as much as my position as commander of this
> squadron will allow. Don't push it," he warned.
I think "he warned" could be removed.
> For a moment, it appeared as if the Ambassador was willing
> to relent. Opening the folder she still held, she pulled out a
> sheet of paper that Jeff could see bore an RDF letterhead.
> "I have already picked the pilots that will accompany me."
> She dropped the sheet on Jeff's desk and picked up her valise.
> "I expect these two pilots will be properly attired and ready to
> leave within the hour," she snapped.
Does "attired" include CVR-3 and VTs? Too much to hope for. I guess
that "escort" in this case is more "military attache" than "bodyguard."
> With a snort, Jeff snatched up the paper and scanned it for
> the pilots she was demanding. When he read them, he could barely
> control himself. "This is insane!"
Sug: "...for the names of the pilots..."
> "Nevertheless, those are your orders and I expect you will
> comply, Colonel," the Ambassador said icily. "We leave in an
> hour." She turned and started for the door.
> "There is no way I am leaving this squadron leaderless," he
> growled. "It is against all regulations for both the commanding
> officer and his exec to fly the same mission."
> The Ambassador paused in the doorway and looked over her
> shoulder. "That has already been cleared, Colonel. You and
> Captain Fox will be on the flight line and ready to fly in one
> hour."
Okay, if I were a paranoid sort, I'd suspect that someone was trying to
behead Fox Squadron as part of a setup...
> "Why us?" he demanded.
> The Ambassador's smile appeared positively predatory. "You
> and Captain Fox are the only two people on this base who have the
> requisite protocol training. I believe you even taught a section
> on that at the academy."
> "One section for a single year." Jeff didn't like being
> reminded of the class he got tricked into teaching. His
> expertise was in tactics not protocol.
Sug: "...had been tricked..."
> "That and your ability to be charming, when necessary." Her
> smile evolved into something else, something that Jeff felt
> bordered on flirtation. "We leave in an hour, Colonel."
1: That justification stinks. She could have gotten any number of
more diplomatic military attaches from HQ.
2: Who *is* this guy, Ranma Saotome's cousin? His sister-in-law, BJ,
and now Ms Frigid here -- what cologne is he weaing, and where can *I*
get some?
> Before Jeff could protest again, she disappeared around the
> corner, heading for the door outside.
> He could feel two pairs of eyes on him as he continued to
> stare at the open doorway. Glancing between Katherine and Bobbi
> Jo confirmed they were waiting for his reaction.
"She's not my type."
> Snatching the phone from his desk, he brought his other hand
> up to dial but his fingers froze hovering over the buttons. This
> wasn't right. Despite the clarity of his orders, there was
> something wrong with this whole affair.
That's putting it mildly.
> Stabbing a couple of pre-programmed buttons, he dropped into
> his seat and waited for someone to answer. He was going to get
> to the bottom of this.
> "General?" he said when the voice of his former flight
> leader answered. "What the hell is going on?"
> There was a pause. "Jeffrey, has your guest arrived?" came
> General Emerson's voice through the phone.
"More importantly, has she *left* yet?"
> "Yes and that's what I want to talk to you about," Jeff
> replied, turning around in his chair and facing the window.
> "Press the scrambler, Jeffrey, and we'll talk."
> Reaching behind him, he punched the red button on the
> phone's base and waited until it blinked red. "Okay, we're
> covered. What's up with this woman anyway?"
> "If you're referring to Ambassador Lemieux, I trust you will
> give her your complete cooperation."
> "Do you know why she's here?"
> "Yes, I do."
> "Do you know what she's asking of us?"
> "Yes and I'm sorry it has to be this way."
> "Dammit, Hot Rocks, you know better than to order both
> command elements to be committed to the same operation. The
> squadron will be left leaderless."
> "Your concerns are noted. However, I must point out that
> you have no choice in the matter. The orders come from higher
> up."
Uh oh.
> "How much higher?"
> "The top."
UH. Oh.
> "I smell Leonard."
"Smells like Kidd. Smoother, more oily, but just as rank."
> Emerson chuckled. "Probably. That doesn't change your
> orders."
> "Why us? Can't you find two peacocks strutting about that
> playpen you call a headquarters?"
Ooooh, hiss, spit!
> "Jeffrey, there's more going on here than just a peace
> conference and I need someone with special talents." General
Talents, or *qualifications*?
> Emerson sounded tired, like he'd argued this very issue before -
> probably with those very 'higher ups' he described. "Things are
> happening in York. This morning we got word that there was an
> overnight coup."
And the good news just doesn't stop.
> "A coup? By whom?" Jeff glanced at Bobbi Jo and saw her
> eyebrows rise at his statement.
> "The religious leader of York took control with the help of
> the York Army. Brother John, or whatever he calls himself, has
> declared he was ordained by some god to assume control of the
> country. They are no longer the Barony of York. They are now
> known as the Holy Kingdom of York - the Chosen People of God."
Great Jumping Ayatollah Khomeinei on a pogo stick!
> "I'll bet that's murder to put on a letterhead," Jeff
> replied sarcastically.
Yeah, they shoot every printer that can't make it fit.
> The General chuckled again. "Wouldn't surprise me.
> Seriously, they were fanatics before. Now they're religious
> fanatics. That makes them doubly dangerous."
> "All of which is interesting but it doesn't answer my
> question. Why us?"
> "The United Confederate States are sending a delegation as
> interested neutrals. Since every delegation is allowed two
> escorts, we believe the UCS delegation will probably be escorted
> by two of the Veritechs captured at Miami Base. We need to know
> their condition and combat-worthiness. You know Veritechs inside
> and out. You can see through any cosmetic facades used to cover
> operational deficiencies. They will probably send the best two
> they have. From that, we can estimate the conditions of the
> rest."
Ooookay, but there must be other officers and/or analysts just as
qualified, who aren't up to their eyebrows in getting a new squadron off
the ground.
> "I see." While it wasn't the sort of answer he was looking
> for, it certainly made sense. Finding out if the UCS was capable
> of keeping up with the maintenance-intensive Veritech fighter
> would be most valuable in determining just how much of a threat
> the Grays were.
> "There's another reason. This one a little more personal.
> We suspect that their escort pilots will be led by someone you
> know."
> Jeff didn't have much trouble figuring out who that would
> be. "Donnie Lee," he said.
> "Exactly. You and he were pretty close when he was your
> Executive Officer with 31 Squadron."
> Close? He was like a little brother. Jeff remembered
> acting as a mentor to the young man, training him in how to
> command a squadron and how to evaluate tactical situations. They
> spent a lot of off-duty time together, mostly drinking and
> discussing the war. Nobody knew Donnie Lee like Jeff.
> "I understand," he said in a low voice.
> "We believe the former Captain Lee is now the commander of
> their Veritech squadron. I want to know if he's as good as he
> used to be."
And *I* want to know how someone Jeff has such a positive opinion of
became involved in the Miami Base massacre. I wouldn't expect a good
officer to allow the kind of thing that happened to Missy. Of course,
that assumes he was in any position to stop it...
> "That's not going to be easy, General. At least, not
> without fighting him." Jeff remembered all the mock air combats
> they flew against each other, testing their own limits as they
> challenged the other. They usually ended in a draw.
> "I trust you'll find a way."
> "Right," Jeff replied like he didn't believe his own
> response. "That explains me. Why Captain Fox?"
> "Oh, I don't know. It never hurts to have a pretty face
> around."
> "I'm not laughing, General," Jeff warned. While Emerson's
> comment was the sort of thing they had often said to each other,
> lately such jokes had begun to bother him.
> "Okay, okay, the reason she's going along is because the
> Ambassador picked her."
> Jeff eyed Katherine. "Why?"
> "I honestly don't know. Ask the Ambassador."
> "Believe me, I will."
> "About the Ambassador, be careful. I can't put my finger on
> exactly why but something about her and this meeting bothers me.
> The cast of characters are too volatile."
"...why, but..."
> "You think the Ambassador might be a problem?" Jeff knew
> she was hardheaded but wasn't sure if that was just an act to
> cover something else. Perhaps she wasn't suited for this job and
> just covering her knowledge of that by acting tough and overly
> officious.
> "She's not the person I would have picked for this
> assignment. Her manner is all wrong for the sort of people she
> will be trying to guide through a tough negotiation." Emerson
> sounded like he wanted to say more but couldn't for some reason.
> "Watch your six."
Hmmmm.
> Jeff dropped the phone back into its cradle. Glancing
> between Katherine and Bobbi Jo, he got the feeling they were
> waiting for him to say something. His grunt of irritation
> spurred Bobbi Jo to take the initiative.
> "I guess I better go get an update on York," she said with
Wait, how did she know it was York? Was Emerson on speakerphone? If
not, Jeff never mentioned York aloud, just "a coup."
> an embarrassed expression. Little wonder. Having her squadron
> commander hearing such news from someone else left her in an
> awkward position.
> "Do," Jeff said. "I want details before we leave."
> With an acknowledgment, Bobbi Jo fled from the room, her
> departure almost causing a collision with Commander Crittenton
> who had the unfortunate timing to be visiting Lieutenant Wallace
> for his morning reports.
> "Don't just stand there, Captain," Jeff said, slapping his
> desk with both hands as he stood up. "We've been invited to a
> party. Go get your best uniform."
> Katherine nodded and quickly disappeared from his office.
> Turning to look out the window, Jeff followed the
> Ambassador's progress back to her transport. Her confident
> strides gave him little reassurance about their mission.
"Stride," again.
> Watching her order about her two assistants only confirmed the
> General's opinion of her and her abilities. He shook his head
> and turned away from the scene.
> Fanatical Yorkies, devious Grays, and militant Zentraedi.
> This had all the makings of a disaster.
And poor Jeff and his crew are supposed to be keeping the lid on this
pressure cooker? I sense "interesting times" ahead...
> "Maggie! Call Captain Lynn and have her refuel the
> Ambassador's transport. Then have Captain Parino report to me."
> The mention of Ona's name reminded him of one other task he
> needed to perform before leaving.
> Picking up his phone again, he dialed a number he hoped he
"...he had hoped..."
> would never have to use. Moments later, after a number of
> transfers, the person he wanted to speak to answered.
> "Global Military Police, Special Operations Section, Colonel
> Rossi speaking."
> "This is Colonel Stuart, RDF Thirteen Squadron."
> "Yes, Colonel, what can I do for you?" The man sounded
> entirely too pleasant.
> "We have had a small situation down here and I was hoping
> you could help clear things up."
> "Certainly, Colonel. We're always happy to assist our RDF
> brothers-in-arms."
"Cut the crap, Rossi, I've already exceeded my BS quotient for the day."
> "Do you have any field operatives working in the Ozark
> region?"
> "We have people everywhere, Colonel."
"For example, look under your desk."
> Jeff could tell the man was being evasive. He couldn't be
> sure if it was because he was really clueless or just playing
> along. "What about Osage City?" he asked.
> "Osage City?" There was a long pause. "I'm not sure I know
> where that is."
> "Down near the Arkansas Protectorate. I'm sure you've heard
> of *that*."
> "Colonel, as I said, we have teams operating everywhere.
> Why do you ask?"
> "There appears to have been an incident last night in Osage
> City and I have reason to believe your people were involved."
> There was a pause as if the GMP Colonel was evaluating his
> options. "Incident? Could you be more specific?"
> "Very well. I understand that three of your field officers
> attacked one of my pilots," Jeff said, trying to control his
> growing anger. He didn't like evasive people.
Especially when he was shooting at them.
> "Attacked?" Colonel Rossi sounded surprised - or was very
> good at faking it.
> "I'm sorry. You wanted specifics. Let's change that to
> attempted rape."
Oooo, I can just *hear* the sarcasm *dripping* here.
> "Involving our people? That's a pretty strong accusation,
> Colonel. I trust you have some evidence."
> "Witnesses, Colonel, along with a half-naked officer who was
> severely beaten."
Ona really *has* been having lousy luck so far in this series, hasn't she?
> Another pause only added to Jeff's irritation. "I see. I
> will have to check into this," Colonel Rossi said.
> "Fine. You do that." Jeff practically snapped his
> response.
> "Anything else, Colonel?"
> "Just one more thing. I have a tough enough job here. I
> don't need the distraction your people molesting mine whenever
> they feel a little... frisky."
> Colonel Rossi chuckled. "I understand, Colonel. I assure
> you that if I discover my people were in any way involved, I will
> take the strongest measures to punish those involved and make
> certain it never happens again."
He *chuckled*? Good grief, way to show how serious you are, Rossi.
> "Fair enough, Colonel. I'm glad we could reach an
> understanding on this matter."
> "Always glad to be of service to the RDF."
> "By the way, I heard there was a bounty on Ona Parino?"
...he added, oh-so-casually.
> "Really, Colonel, we don't put bounties on Zentraedi. You
> must be confusing us with the Yorkies."
> "Of course. Sorry to have mentioned it," Jeff replied with
> a wry smile.
> "No problem. Good day, Colonel."
> Jeff hung up the phone and crossed his arms. "Lying
> bastard," he mumbled. The fact Colonel Rossi knew of Ona Parino
> AND that she was a Zentraedi confirmed everything he suspected
Welllll, *maybe* not. "Parino" would be something of a giveaway, if
Rossi were quick on the uptake. But given the pattern of other
evidence... I'm betting with Jeff on this one.
> about the incident. The GMP knew where Ona was and were taking
> steps to capture her, probably for that incident at Aunt Margie's
> mission station. The five she encountered in Osage City knew
> what they were doing. Since the GMP didn't usually back off when
> they thought they had their quarry cornered, everyone would have
> to be on their guard.
Five? When he was talking to Rossi, he said three.
Sug: "...City had known what..."
> "You sent for me, sir?"
> He looked up at Ona's voice. A quick visual assessment of
> her condition confirmed she was in no condition to fly.
> "The doctor tells me you've been grounded for a few days,"
> he said, picking up a folder that contained Doctor Takahashi's
> report. "Says here you suffered three cracked ribs, among other
> injuries."
> "Zentraedi heal quickly, Colonel," Ona replied, her usual
> lack of expression held no clue to how she really felt about the
> situation. She couldn't have been pleased.
> "That's good. We're a little short-handed right now." He
> paused to catch her reaction. There was none. "Captain Fox and
> I have been ordered to accompany a VIP today. That leaves me
> with a small problem. Who do I leave in charge?"
> Ona just stared at Jeff's desk with a blank expression. If
> she suspected his answer, she didn't show it.
> "I want you to command the squadron until I return."
> "Sir, I --"
> "That wasn't a suggestion, Captain. The squadron is yours."
> "Sir, I'm no good at organizing. I don't believe they will
> follow... I mean..." With an uncharacteristic wave of her hands
> in frustration, she sighed heavily.
Actually, I think most of them would. Ona's biggest problem right now
is that she's sabotaging herself -- her confidence is shot. And given
that she's really not very good (yet) at handling the type of problems
she's most likely to see while Jeff's gone, I don't see this getting
better anytime soon, w/o something drastic happening.
Okay, who cued the Ominous Thunder?
> Jeff frowned. He knew what was causing her apprehension.
> "You're a very capable flight leader who is going to do a fine
> job commanding this squadron."
> Ona shook her head. "No, sir. I'm a Zentraedi. Humans
> won't follow a Zentraedi, sir."
> "Mine will. They're trained to follow orders, Captain. I
> have every confidence they will obey your orders - Zentraedi or
> not."
> When their eyes locked, he could see hints of genuine fear.
> Why would she be so hesitant to take a command position? She=s
"She was..."
> already a flight leader with three humans who follow her every
> command. No, there had to be something else going on. He wished
> he had more time to pursue the issue.
I wonder... just what position did Ona hold in that all-female
Zentraedi sqaudron? If she made a command mistake that helped (at least
in her mind) lead to the eventual disaster, that could explain a lot.
> "You are a respected flight leader, Parino. Treat this as
> nothing more than commanding a large flight."
> Ona began to say something but couldn't. Her shoulders
> sagged. "If you say so, sir," she said with a sigh.
> "Look, it won't be that tough. Robins is on alert until
> sundown, Montoya will be flying patrol with Daisy Mills handling
> backup. Wallace will deal with anything administrative, Major
> Davis will keep the base functioning, and Commander Crittenton
> will tie everything together. All you have to do is be available
> to make command decisions when required."
Ah, yes, command decisions. "So, what do YOU think we should do? Hmm,
that sounds good. We'll do that, then."
> Ona closed her eyes and drew a deep breath before nodding
> her agreement. She would do her best; he had no doubt about
> that. How much she would like it was another matter.
> "Good. You can use the command office across the hall.
> Lieutenant Wallace will assist you with whatever you need."
> "Yes, sir." Like a scolded child, she trudged out of his
> office.
> He watched her walk over to Cindy's desk and saw them talk
> briefly. The blonde's enthusiastic response was encouraging.
> Ona seemed to relax a bit when talking to Cindy.
> With a sigh of relief, Jeff turned again towards the windows
> that framed he other problem. As some of Gail's ground crew
> rigged hoses to refuel the little transport, he wondered just how
> screwed up things could get. Leaving his inexperienced squadron
> in the hands of a Zentraedi who clearly wanted nothing to do with
> its command, accompanying an officious negotiator who's mission
"whose"
> seemed impossible, and facing an uncomfortable reunion with a
> former fellow officer who led the rebellion at Miami Base left
> him feeling particularly old.
"...who had led..."
> "What a lousy way to start a tour of duty," he grumbled.
> Shaking his head, he started for the locker room to pick up his
> flight suit.
Not much happening in this chapter, but a whole lot of setup and
foreshadowing. I anticipate next chapter may well end with a bang.
I'll be waiting.
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