FOX Squadron
                Episode 10 - Getting To Know You
                       By: G.L. Sandborn


     "Bat Four Two, do you copy?" the Veritech pilot called,
anxiously adjusting for the area's heightened ECM environment. 
The view screens showed nothing but snow while static mixed with
a hint of communication roared in the headset.
     Hovering in Guardian mode just above the Amazon jungle
canopy, the pilot strained to make some sense of the bits and
pieces of communication that slipped through between the pops and
waterfall-sounding static.  "Tango.... under... Bat... down...
need... look out!..."
     "Bat Four Leader, come in."  
     More static but no answer.  Whatever was jamming
communications in the area had been set to burn-out levels.  It
overpowered any use of even the most advanced radio systems.
     A flash of light off to the north drew the Veritech into a
tight turn.  Skimming just above the tree tops, it looked for a
fight that had to be going on somewhere below.
     The solid canopy of jungle abruptly opened to a clearing,
revealing two Zentraedi in Female Power Armor darting about as
they hacked up what remained of a Destroid patrol.
     "Bat Four Leader, withdraw.  I'm starting my attack run."
     The jamming abruptly lessened with visual contact. "Leader
down.  Nowhere... run.  Is that you, Casey?"
     The Veritech hesitated at the sound of such a familiar
voice.  "Back towards the jungle.  I'll cover you."
     "Negative.  Mobility gone."
     "Hold on.  I'm coming."
     "Get out of here!  There's too many!"
     Without a response, the Veritech screamed towards the
Zentraedi.  Their black and gold dragons painted on dull-looking
and worn armor appeared ominous against the bright green and
brown of the jungle.
     Gambling on the Veritech's sudden appearance to gain a brief
advantage, it boldly attacked.  If the two Zentraedi could be
convinced there were more Veritechs on the way, they might just
abandon the fight.  
     Of course, that was what 'normal' Zentraedi would do.  Their
black trim and dragon insignia proclaimed these to be members of 
the infamous Furies; renegade female Zentraedi that NEVER backed
down.
     As targeting mode engaged, one of the Zentraedi ripped the
Excaliber's right P-Beam forearm from its body and began using it
to beat the RDF machine.  Parts flew from the stricken craft in a
shower of sparks with each blow.  The high-pitched scream of
Zentraedi exhilaration bled over the RDF frequencies sending a
chill through whoever heard.  It was murder, plain and simple.
     "Eject!  I'll pick you up!"
     There was no answer.
     The scream of a missile warning filled the cockpit.  A quick
check confirmed the threat was coming from below and behind.
     The Veritech darted to the right, an instant before an
explosion shook it like a dog with its prey.  Screens flickered
then went blank.  Red warning lights flashed and a steady scream
from the GPW system accompanied the stricken craft's tumble
towards the jungle.  Crashing through the trees at the edge of
the clearing, the fighter ended upside down but intact.
     With main power offline, the pilot switched to auxiliaries. 
Lights on the maneuvering and combat consoles blinked then
glowed.  Partial power restored.  Enough to get back into the
fight.
     A third female Zentraedi joined the other two in the
clearing.   That had to be the one who fired the missile.  There
could be more but, for the moment, that was the least of the
Veritech pilot's worries.  There was a Destroid pilot to rescue.
     A quick check confirmed that the GU-11 was still operable
but the arm controls showed numerous yellow warning lights. 
Clutched tightly in the Veritech's right hand, the huge gun only
had to traverse a few degrees to point at a celebrating Zentraedi
who had returned to torturing the disabled and limp Destroid.
     Servos whined as the gun slowly rose.  Jungle vines ensnared
it like tough cables, making the weapon arm shudder as it tried
to activate.  Inch after painful inch, the gun slowly moved. 
Just a little further and the nearest Zentraedi would feel its
55mm titanium-jacketed rounds.
     Through the ECM came the welcome sound of other Veritechs
converging on the battle.  It was only a matter of time before
the Furies would meet overwhelming odds.
     The targeting computer verified the GU-11 was on target and
ready to shoot.  Instead of shooting, the pilot chanced one more
look at the hapless Excaliber.  The world seemed to go into
ultra-slow motion as one of the Zentraedi slammed its metal fist
into the Destroid's pilot compartment, its triple-barreled,
forearm-mounted pulse lasers spiting death with such force the
Excaliber's entire back exploded away from its body.


     "NOOOOO!"  Karen Crowkiller lurched upright in her bed,
gasping for breath, her eyes wide.  Trembling, she screamed
again.  Her voice echoing off the bare walls brought her two
suitemates running.                                         
     The bedroom door exploded open as Liz Littlebear rolled into
the room, ending in a couch with her handgun drawn.  Still in her
night clothes, a thin tank top and jogging shorts, she swept the
room with her weapon, searching for the cause of Karen's panic.
     Missy Robins hovered just behind Liz, weaponless but equally
alert to potential trouble.
     Satisfied Karen was alone, Liz snapped the safety on her
weapon and scowled at the only occupant of the room.  Still
trembling, Karen hugged a pillow, her eyes wide.
     "What's goin' on?" Liz asked, standing up but keeping her
distance.  In her current state, Karen Crowkiller could be every
bit as dangerous to her own squadronmates as she was to a tough
enemy.
     Karen's eyes squeezed shut.  A tremor wracked her body like
a blast of cold air up her spine.  "It's nothing," she gasped. 
"Just a nightmare."
     "I'm not surprised," Liz said, running a hand through her
shoulder-length hair.  "South America has given lots of people
nightmares."
     Missy slumped against the door frame, relieved there was no
threat but still uncertain of what to make of the situation. 
"Are you sure?  I can get --"
     "I said it's nothing!" Karen snapped.
     Recoiling a bit at the vicious reply, Missy cast one last
uncertain glace Karen's way before retreating from the doorway. 
"If you say so," she mumbled.  It was obvious why no one wanted
to room with her.
     Liz remained a few moments longer, staring at her friend
with a concerned expression.  "You want to talk about it?"
     "NO!" Karen snapped before her shoulders sagged.  "No...
please."
     Drawing a deep breath, Liz turned to leave.  She stopped in
the doorway and regarded her friend with a strange expression. 
"You know, my grandmother used to say that if you let the ghosts
of the past haunt you long enough, they will eventually drive you
mad.  I'd really hate to see that happen to you."
     Karen was still holding her pillow, rocking slightly on the
bed when Liz closed the door.  Fear continued to haunt the room,
driving all thoughts of sleep from the eldest Crowkiller sister.

     Entering her own room, she was surprised to see Missy
getting dressed.
     "I suppose there's no point in going back to bed," Liz said,
shoving the handgun back under her pillow.  "The alarm is due to
go off in an hour."
     Pulling the straps of her bra up, Missy scowled at her
roommate's pillow.  "You sleep with a pistol?"
     "Why not?  It's the ultimate in feminine protection," Liz
replied with a wry grin.
     "What do you have in that monster?"  Missy reached for her
work coveralls.
     Liz slipped off her tank top.  "Forty caliber, steel
jacket."
     "Well, you better consider hollow points," Missy replied,
sliding a shapely leg into the coveralls.  "Otherwise someone
liable to get hurt when you do a little ghost shooting and your
bullet goes through a wall."
     "You heard?"
     "We all have nightmares.  Some of us just keep them to
ourselves."
     Liz paused, looking at the wall that separated the bedrooms. 
"She wasn't always like this.  She used to be the best. 
Something happened to her in the Amazon.  I don't know what but
it really messed her up."
     "Yeah, well, she better get it together soon," Missy
declared, zipping up her coveralls.
     With a sigh, Liz grabbed for her own coveralls.  "It's not
that simple.  She won't even talk about what happened."
     "If she insists on flying her problems solo, she's going to
screw up when we need her the most.  Somebody is liable to end up
dead."
     "What's the difference?  We're all dead anyway."
     "I don't believe that and neither should you," Missy said
with her fists on her hips.  
     "Come off it.  The only reason we're here is because they
didn't want to waste one of their 'white' squadrons in a snake
pit like this.  We're just so much cannon fodder."
     "That's not what I'm talking about."  Missy glared at her
roommate.  "Look, I should have died at Miami Base but I didn't. 
You should have died in the Baltic but you didn't.  We're both
alive because we're damn good and someone was watching out for
us."
     "Someone?"
     "Someone - something, what's the difference.  You of all
people should understand.  I believe we're both alive because
somebody wanted us this way."
     "Good for you.  Forgive me if I don't share your spiritual
insanity," Liz said dryly.  "You can believe in God or Wakan-
tanka or whatever fable you want.  My faith is in my weapons." 
Snatching her boots off the floor, she started for the living
room.  "You'd do well to forget your myths and start believing in
yourself.  When the time comes, that's all you'll have."
     "No," Missy said firmly, causing Liz to pause in the open
doorway.  "And that's not all you have either.  Like it or not,
someone is watching over you and protecting your fatalistic ass. 
Your grandmother would be ashamed --
     "Don't you DARE bring her into this!"
     "What was it?  Ten years?  Fifteen?  After all that time and
all that training you still refuse to see the path in front of
you."
     Liz glared at her roommate before abruptly turning and
leaving the room to Missy.

*****

     Colonel Stuart stood on the access road running next to the
base rail head and kicked lightly at the track.
     "Careful, Sir," chided Nancy from the rover as she adjusted
her radio headset.  "Them tracks are mighty old.  You're liable
to cause the whole line to collapse."
     "Yeah," Jeff replied with a chuckle.  "Wouldn't want that."
     "Judging by its condition, I'd say no one has maintained it
in over five years," Daisy noted with a yawn.  She hated mornings
and mornings of physical labor unloading supplies were especially
distasteful.  She liked her workouts but what lay ahead this
morning was hard, physical labor.
     Jeff's response was aborted in Nancy's sudden cocking of her
head, like she'd heard something.
     "Roger, Blue Leader.  This is Ozark Base reading you five by
five," she said into the boom-mounted microphone of her headset. 
After a short moment of listening, she nodded.  "Copy, Blue
Leader.  Standing by."
     "What's up?" Daisy asked, shoving her hands into the pockets
of her work coveralls.  She also hated cold mornings.  Despite
the promise of a clear and mild day, the morning came complete
with a late-spring chill in the air.
     "Veritech overwatch reports the supply train is reversing
onto the local spur now.  They expect to be here in twenty
minutes."  Nancy grinned at the Colonel.  "That is, unless the
Colonel kicks the tracks again."
     Jeff sighed.  "I promise to behave myself if you can find
out where our people are.  Everyone was supposed to have reported
to the rail head by now."
     "Fair enough."  Nancy switched frequencies on her radio set
and flipped on the external speaker so she wouldn't have to
repeat messages.  "Captain Fox, the Colonel wants to know if you
intend on joining us.  The train is almost here."
     "Don't get your panties in a wad, Sergeant.  We're just now
leaving the hangar," came Katherine's reply over the speaker.
     "What makes you think I'm wearing panties?"
     There was a short pause before Katherine replied.  "You're a
sick puppy, Sergeant."
     "It's a sick world, ma'am, and I'm a happy gal.  Command
Team out."
     "You know, you ladies ought to try a little military
discipline.  I understand it does wonders for unit efficiency,"
Jeff answered, looking towards the perimeter rail gate with his
arms crossed.  "At least turn off the speaker if you plan on
talking that way."
     Nancy and Daisy exchanged amused looks before answering
together like two little kids: "Yes, sir."
     "I trust Sergeant Foley is ready to open the gate."
     "He has a team standing by."  Nancy squinted towards the
gate straddling the rail line, trying to determine if the three
men lounging about were really there to open the gate or just
goofing off.  Judging by their MP5's, it was probably the former. 
Their weapons suggested that Foley's men weren't taking any
chances with a twenty foot breach in the fence - intentional or
not.
     Wheezing and hissing, a pair of Lieutenant Bickham's
Gladiator Destroids rumbled up to their staging area off to the
right.  Their giant hands flexing as if the pilot were testing
them.  They would be most useful in unloading the supply
containers.  Three truckloads of Destroid Troop personnel rolled
up behind them.  For a share of the shipped munitions they were
willing to help with the unloading.
     It took another ten minutes before Captain Fox and the
squadron's two trucks arrived along with those members of the
ground crew assigned to the unloading.  The rest of the pilots
trailed behind manning forklifts and aircraft tugs.  Nobody
looked particularly happy about being there.
     Jeff checked his watch.  The train was already fifteen
minutes late.  It was going to be a long day of unloading and
unpacking.  Every minute delay pushed back the anticipated
completion time.  He wanted everything positioned and the train
gone before dark.
     Another fifteen minutes passed before Nancy relayed bad news
about the train crew having difficulty with one of the rusted
switches.  Another delay.  At least his people were in place. 
Outside of Parino and Twotree, who were manning the Alert Post at
the north end of the runway and some of the older members of the
squadron, everyone was to help with the unloading, unpacking, or
storing of supplies.
     "I don't suppose it would help if we sent the Gladiators out
to push the damn thing in," he finally said to no one in
particular.
     "Probably not, sir," Nancy replied.  "Too bad we don't have
Ginnie's chopper.  We could send an observation team up to check
on the delay."
     Jeff wasn't too keen on taking the helicopter in the first
place but even he had to admit that such a craft might prove
useful in certain situations.
     To take his mind off the waiting, he paced the platform,
trying to think of anything he had forgotten to do.  He never
liked waiting for things to happen.  Knowing the train was so
close made the waiting even harder.
     With the sun rapidly rising overhead, the first sign of the
train's arrival came when one of the overwatch Veritechs banked
overhead before circling back towards the north.  A welcoming air
horn announced the thirty-car train backing slowly up the spur
towards the final 180 degree turn into the base.  Foley's men
scrambled to open the gate and stood by with weapons drawn.
     Slowly, the long train, stacked double high with containers,
backed through the gate, coming to a noisy stop just ten feet
from the track's end.  A tall, lanky man in an RDF work uniform
jumped down from what looked like an armored guard car and ambled
up to the Colonel.
     "Captain Engels, Third Transport Detachment from Yellowstone
Base, sir," he said with a abbreviated salute.  "Sorry about the
delay.  Had a little trouble up near the town."
     "What sort of trouble?" Jeff asked with a frown.  He had
suspicions about Ozark City and its inhabitants.  Specifically,
one disagreeable person he'd only heard about.
     "Track Maintenance greased the wrong switch and we had to
unstick the one leading here.  Then there was livestock on the
tracks and a truck with its front end in a bad place."
     "I'll have a talk with the mayor and make sure that doesn't
happen again."
     Engels shrugged.  "All part of the job, sir."
     "Have any trouble along the way?"
     "We got jumped last night just south of New KC.  Gave 'em a
couple of bursts from the guns and the Veritechs tore up a mess
of trees before whoever it was slipped away.  Probably amateurs."
     "Let's hope so.  I'd hate for my permanent supply line to
suffer occasional interruptions due to bandits."  Jeff frowned
towards the north end of the base like he was searching for those
who would keep him from his supplies.
     "No problem, sir.  The Thirty-Second did a pretty good job
escorting us.  They'll get even better with time."
     All Jeff could do was nod before turning to Nancy.  "Okay,
Sergeant, let's get those containers unloaded."   
     "Uh, sir?" the Captain said tentatively as the Gladiators
began to move.  "You better leave the unloading to us."  He cast
a nervous glance at the towering Destroids.  "Those containers
are mighty thin.  If you grab one in the wrong place, they fold
up like a cheap cardboard box."
     Jeff was about to ask what the Captain had in mind when the
man signaled to the last car.  The sound of a powerful engine
drew curious looks from everyone.  
     What had first appeared to be a squared-off armored car
mounting a mini-gun turret on its roof, began to sprout six long,
articulated legs.  Like a giant spider stretching in the morning
sun, the legs extended until they straddled the track.  With a
change of engine noise, one set of legs locked solid and slid out
sideways on large rubber wheels until they stretched more than
twice the flatcar's width.
     "That's quite a contraption," Jeff noted, as the vehicle
rose off the flatcar.
     "We know these remote bases lack proper unloading
facilities.  So, we bring our own."  Captain Engels beamed with
pride.  "Robotechnology gave us more than your weapons of war."
     Once the unloading vehicle was fully formed, it set to work
removing the containers.  A metal frame on cables descended from
the vehicle's bottom to the top of the first container.  With a
loud bang, the four corner locks latched into place and the
container was easily hoisted a foot or two off the flatcar. 
Without moving its six legs, the hoisting cab slid laterally from
directly over the flatcar to the hard surface of the access road. 
Slowly, it set the container down on the road.  That's were the
second pleasant surprise revealed itself.
     Extending from the container's bottom came four rubber
wheels, making the unit portable.  A tow bar extended from its
sealed end and a hitch opened up below the twin doors on the
other.  What had looked like a long day of humping supplies from
the rail head to the base buildings now appeared to be a simple
matter of forming ground trains of containers that could be towed
into position and unloaded at their leisure.
     "Colonel?  Lieutenant Wallace just reported an inbound
transport," Nancy called.  "She's asking if you want to be
there."
     Jeff thought for a moment.  "No, the supplies are more
important right now.  Tell her to take care of it."
     Nancy relayed the message and chuckled at the response. 
"She said she figured that would be the case.  She'll take care
of everything.  The report will be on your desk."
     "I'm surprised it isn't there already," Jeff muttered.
     "Yeah, she's a spooky one all right."
     "Does she do that 'mind reading' thing with you, too?"
     Nancy shrugged.  "Sure.  She does it with everyone."
     "That's a relief.  I thought it was just me."

     The rest of the morning went surprisingly fast.  The
specialized loading crane made quick work of detraining the
various containers and setting them up for towing.  Even the
munitions containers were swiftly unloaded, leaving the Destroids
with frustratingly little to do.  Just to keep them occupied,
Jeff asked they move to the open gate and assist the security men
watching for potential threats.
     By lunchtime, the last container was hooked up to an
aircraft tug and on its way to the North Hangar.  The Destroid
Troop had their share of the munitions and Dutch DeWitt finished
stowing the remainder down in the munitions bunker.
     The small command team huddled around Jeff's rover and
watched the mobile crane reconfigure itself back into an armored
enclosure on the last flatcar.  Instead of everyone being
exhausted and facing more hours of physical labor, they could now
look forward to some lunch and an afternoon of storing supplies
in their proper location.
     Captain Engels completed his delivery by handing over the
transport inventory to Colonel Stuart.
     "You guys do good work," Jeff noted, as he received the
report.
     "I've got a good crew, Colonel.  Next time, we'll try to
bring some mail.  I know how lonely things can get at these
isolated bases," Captain Engels replied.
     A pair of blue and gold Veritechs banked overhead in a tight
formation.
     "Looks like your escorts are here," Jeff said, glancing up
at the fighters.  If nothing else, the Thirty-Second Squadron
could fly pretty good formations.
     Pulling out an old-time pocket watch, Captain Engels nodded
as he read the time.  "If everything goes well, we can just make
it to New KC before sundown.  That's good.  I'd rather not face
another ambush in the dark."
     The two men shook hands and the train crew climbed back onto
their train.  A ramp lowered from the front of the engine and a
pair of small, four-wheeled track-running vehicles rolled down
and onto the track.  Silently, they accelerated until
disappearing towards Ozark City.
     "What are those things?" Nancy asked, standing on the
rover's hood and shielding her eyes with a hand.
     "Track Beetles," Captain Engels said with a grin.  "They run
ahead of us looking for broken tracks, obstacles and mines. 
Gives us a chance to stop before we run into trouble.  They also
pack a pretty mean punch.  Each has a mini-gun in a pop-up
turret.  We control them from a console in the engine cab."  He
paused when the engine sounded its air horn.  "Well, it's been a
slice, Colonel."
     "Maybe next time you can stay awhile," Jeff offered.
     "Looks like we can fit a fifteen car train inside the gate. 
If you don't order too much, we might just do that."  Another
blast from the engine's air horn caused him to chuckle.  "Sounds
like the boys are a little impatient.  You know how railroad
people are.  Always worried about the time.  See you in two
weeks."
     The whole command team waved as Captain Engels scrambled to
catch up with the slowly moving train.

**********
                              
     Nancy stepped from the shower and snatched a towel from the
rack.  "So, what's planned for tonight?" she called.
     In the common room, Daisy lounged on the apartment's
utilitarian sofa, her feet on a coffee table.  "Unless you want
to hang out with the children, I suggest we go see what kind of
action the town has to offer."
     "I donno, you heard what Lieutenant Colonel Lawson said
about the town."  Nancy wrapped the towel around her waist, tying
it like a skirt, and leaned over to check her reflection in the
fog-proof mirror.  "Army life really agrees with you," she
mumbled, placing her hands behind her head.  Turning profile, she
grinned at her reflection.  "You better find a handsome guy
pretty soon or all this is going to go to waste."
     "You say something?" Daisy called.
     "I said we need to find a couple of hunks and party hardy,"
Nancy replied, winking at herself in the mirror.
     "Unless you want to try the 'Lost Boys', the best place for
that is in town."  Daisy eyed her bare feet and frowned.  She
never liked the look of her own feet.
     A billow of steam escaped as Nancy opened the bathroom door. 
"Then the town it is."
     "It sure was nice of the Colonel giving us the evening off." 
Daisy pulled on a pair of socks and wrinkled her nose at the
results.  Now her feet looked too big.
     "Yup, one night to party before we report for duty," Nancy
said, rubbing her wet hair with another towel.
     Both flinched when the apartment door swung open and
abruptly slammed shut.
     "Great!  Just freaking great!"  Samantha stomped into the
room, peeling out of her work coveralls.  "I was looking forward
to an evening all to myself and my stupid partner volunteers us
for alert duty.  I can't believe it!"
     She disappeared into her bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes
behind.  Sounds of things being thrown about and drawers slamming
filled the apartment.
     "She sounds upset," Nancy noted as she went back to
vigorously rubbing her hair with the towel.
     "Yup."  Daisy glanced at the large window that looked out on
the hallway before sighing and shaking her head.  "Looks like
somebody forgot to tint the window before she went into the
shower."
     "Huh?"  Nancy stopped drying her hair and frowned at her
friend from beneath the towel.  "What are you talking about?"
     Daisy just jerked a thumb towards the window.  Framed in its
clear glass were three of the younger male members of Cindy's
office staff.  All were staring wide eyed with their mouths open
at Nancy, or more accurately, at her exposed chest.
     "AHHHHH!"  Nancy crossed her arms and spun away from the
window.  "Why don't people tell me these things?  I thought the
window was like a one way mirror."
     With a heavy sigh, Daisy stood up and walked to the window. 
The sight of the big Lakota wearing only a skimpy pair of panties
and a loose-fitting t-shirt coming their way caused all three
boys to scramble down the hall.  "Little perverts," she grumbled
before flipping a switch on the wall.  Instantly, the window went
black.  "According to the instructions, it has three settings;
clear, tinted, and remote.  Clear and tinted settings are
obvious.  The remote setting displays a real-time scene from a
camera mounted on top of the building.  Kind of like a giant TV
screen showing video of what's happening outside."  She looked
again at the tinted window and shook her head.  "After that show,
somebody's going to be washing soiled sheets for a week."
     "Well, you could have told a girl, ya know," Nancy growled,
looking over her shoulder towards the window.
     "Why?  It's your responsibility to read the room instruction
book," Daisy replied, crossing her arms and leaning against the
wall.
     The door to Samantha's bedroom banged open and abruptly
slammed shut as the girl stomped through the common room.  Fully
dressed in her flight suit, her expression practically dared
anyone to get in her way.  Daisy quickly opened the apartment's
door and resumed leaning against the wall.  Samantha rewarded the
gesture by slamming the door behind her with such force the whole
wall shook.
     "Not a happy camper," Nancy observed.
     "Nope."  Daisy frowned at the trail of clothes left behind. 
"And messy too."
     "GET OUT OF MY WAY, YA HORNY LITTLE SQUIRTS!" came
Samantha's voice from somewhere down the hall.
     "Not happy at all."
     Daisy yawned.  "So, you still up for a bar crawl?"
     "Wouldn't miss it."
     "Great, I'll go see if Ona wants to come along."  Daisy
yanked open the apartment's abused door.
     "Uh, DW, maybe you better put some pants on."
     Pausing in the open doorway, Daisy looked back over her
shoulder and grinned.  "I'm just going across the hall.  After
the show you gave them, I doubt they'll be interested in me. 
Anyway, if they want to look, let them," she said with a
mischievous glint in her eye.  "It's not like they're going to
get any."
     "You're such a tease," Nancy muttered as she started for the
bedroom she shared with Daisy.  It was good being assigned to the
same base as her friend.  Even better that they got to room
together.
     "WILL YOU LITTLE PERVERTS GIVE IT A REST?"
     Of course, there were a few bugs left to work out.

     Daisy glowered at the retreating boys.  Curiosity was one
thing but this was becoming obsessive.  The reason for their
interest was obvious.  Word had gotten around about Ona's habit
of wandering her apartment in complete undress.  Getting a chance
to glimpse a female Zentraedi warrior in all her glory was a
powerful lure.  It didn't help that she acted oblivious to it
all.  
     Noticing that the window was untinted, Daisy reminded
herself she had to explain a few things about feminine modesty. 
Even in remote mode the glass was impossible to see through.
     She knocked briskly on the door and was quickly rewarded
with Ona Parino, still dressed in her flight suit.
     "I thought you already did your turn on alert duty," Daisy
said.
     "Yes.  I'm about to take a shower," Ona replied, as she
began to unzip the front of her flight suit.
     "Hold that thought.  How would you like to go into town with
Nancy and me?"
     Ona winced and froze, her zipper open to her navel.  "You
mean to a bar."
     "Of course.  We thought we might see what kind of action we
could find."
     Shaking her head, Ona sighed.  "I remember last time.  I
don't want to go through that again."
     "Okay, you can be the designated driver."
     "The what?"
     "It's the person who doesn't drink so they can drive the
drunk ones back to base."
     Ona considered the offer.  "Do I have to wear that thong and
short skirt again?"
     "No, jeans are fine," Daisy replied with a chuckle.  "We
don't want to give anyone the wrong impression."
     "Who else is going?" Ona asked, as if it were a deep
personal question.
     "Just Nancy and me.  We want to check out the town and the
best way of doing that is hitting a couple of bars."
     Ona sighed.  "Very well.  I'll change and meet you in twenty
minutes."
     "Great!  Oh, I almost forgot, we seem to have some young men
wandering around with overactive hormones.  You might want to
keep your window tinted."  Daisy reached in and flipped the
switch, causing the large window to go black.
     "Why?  Is there a problem?"
     "I've heard how you... you know, around the apartment.  And
that's fine," Daisy added hastily.  "It's just there's no reason
to tempt the little perverts."
     "Perverts?  Is that how males are?"
     "Yeah, all males are perverts."
     "Then what's so special about them?"
     "Honey, you will have to find that out for yourself.  The
trick is in the way you tame them.  Do it right and you've got
someone that will keep you happy for the rest of your life." 
Daisy winked and turned to leave.  "See you in twenty minutes."

*****

     Colonel Stuart entered his apartment on the second floor of
the Command Building.  He was only a little surprised to see Gail
Lynn chatting with his wife.
     "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" he said, closing the
door behind him.
     "No, we were just planning a little party down in the Day
Room," Gail replied.
     "Party?"
     "We've got lots of things to eat and drink now and the girls
asked if they could have some sort of celebration," Kay said with
a giggle.  "Especially the younger ones.  They've never been away
from home before and we thought it might be nice to have a little
'Getting To Know You' party."
     Jeff nodded.  It sounded simple enough.
     "We're going to make it a pajama party.  Some of the pilots
even want to attend," Gail noted.
     "Just some?"  Jeff wasn't sure he liked the sound of that.
     "The older ones made it sound like they wanted to go into
town."  Kay's smile was gone now.  Her discomfort about some of
'her girls' going into unknown danger was obvious.
     Jeff sighed.  "I suppose I could confine them to the base."
     "You could."  Gail nodded.  "But I doubt you would be
completely successful.  In any case, what would you do if they
went?  Arrest them?"
     She had a point.  He was already working with the bare
minimum in pilots.  Throwing one or two in the brig would only
make things worse.
     "Jeffrey, they're big girls.  They can take care of
themselves.  They'll be all right.  You'll see."
     Jeff wrapped his arms around his wife who returned his hug
while he cast a worried glance at Gail.
     "I've already talked to Bobbi Jo," Gail said.  "She's going
along to check out the place.  I guess she thinks going with a
bunch of girls will allow her to do a little snooping."
     At the mention of the Intel Officer's name, Kay's hug grew
in intensity.
     "Honey, I can't breathe," Jeff gasped.
     Kay relaxed her python-like grip, but continued to hold her
gasping husband.  It was clear she hadn't gotten over the red-
headed Intel Officer's presence.
     "Okay, you're right," he finally said to Gail once he had
caught his breath.  "I guess it'll be a good chance to check out
the town.  And, being women might just let them investigate
without the trouble Bickham's men experienced.  I'm sure Bobbi Jo
will keep them out of trouble."
     "They need a little team building right now," Gail noted as
she rocked sideways, setting her weight on one hip.  "The ones
that are likely to go are the ones that need this the most."
     "I hope you're right, Gail," he replied with a sigh.

*****

     Liz poked her head into the bathroom.  Karen was toweling
off after her shower and wore a sour expression.
     "You did good work today," Liz said.
     Karen shrugged.  "If you say so."
     Liz hesitated at her friend's noncommittal answer.  "Anyway,
now it's time to kick back with a few drinks.  I'm going into
town.  You wanna go?"
     Karen just continued to dry herself, putting one foot up on
the commode and running the towel over her raised leg.
     "Come on, Casey.  We both need this.  If I don't get a drink
soon, I'll go crazy and you need to loosen up."
     "I don't want to loosen up."  Karen switched legs on the
commode.
     "Yes, you do," Liz insisted.  It wasn't like Karen to pass
up a chance to drown her sorrows.  "You need it.  We both do."
     Karen continued drying herself in silence.  Liz refused to
give up.  She needed to get Karen away from the base.  Pouring a
few drinks down her might just loosen her up enough to tell what
happened in the Amazon that left her so bitter.
     Snapping on a blow dryer, Karen attacked her hair like one
determined to fry it within an inch of its life.  Working a hair
brush through her locks, the warm air blew them into a dark fan
behind her head.
     "I don't want to go alone," Liz finally said just loud
enough to be heard above the howl of the blow dryer.
     When Karen acted like she didn't hear, Liz crossed her arms
and leaned against the door frame.  She didn't expect to
encounter this much trouble prying her friend from the base.
     She decided to attack the problem head on.  "If you're
worried about running into Captain Parino again, don't.  From
what I hear she had a bad experience the last time she went into
a bar.  I doubt she's anxious to repeat it."
     The dryer snapped off.  Karen glared at the mirror.  "Then
she'll be here," she growled.
     "Probably."
     Drawing a deep breath, like a person coming back to life,
Karen caught Liz in her steely gaze.  "Then I DON'T want to be
here."
     "Fine."  Liz pushed herself upright.  "Get dressed and I'll
meet you in twenty minutes."

*****

     Samantha rocked lightly in her chair and stared out at the
darkness.  Everyone was going out and having fun.  Everyone
except her.  It wasn't fair.  She worked just as hard as everyone
else.  Why couldn't they wait one night before making her stand
alert?
     Looking around the small one room Alert Post, her nose
wrinkled instinctively at its Spartan appointment.  Despite the
reactivation team's hard work, it still looked like a little
concrete box half-buried in the ground and exposed at ground
level on one end facing the runway.  Two bunks lined one side.  A
small kitchenette with a table and two comfortable chairs were
opposite the bunks.  A single entertainment center perched on a
stand along the back.  They could watch TV, read or sleep, one at
a time, but not leave until called upon or relieved.
     Missy didn't seem to mind.  She went about her business in a
cold, mechanical way; brewing fresh coffee, tuning the radio to a
distant music station, and generally acting like this was just
another thing to be endured.
     A cup of steaming coffee clicked on the table next to
Samantha causing her to glance at who delivered it.
     "I just thought you might like something to warm you up,"
Missy said in a flat voice.  "It gets cold here at night.  At
least, until summer.  Then the insects come out in force."
     "How do you know about that?"
     Missy settled into the other chair with a sigh.  "I heard
Captain Taylor talking to the Colonel.  She grew up in these
hills."
     Samantha cradled the warm cup in her hands.  It was getting
a little nippy outside.  They'd probably have to turn on the heat
before the night was over.  "You don't miss much, do you?"
     "I guess not."  Missy hunched over her cup.  Her expression
unreadable.  "My father taught me to be observant.  Look and
listen ten times more than you speak, he always said."
     It was Samantha's turn to hunch over a bit.  "At least you
had a father," she mumbled.
     "I'm sorry.  I didn't know."
     "It's okay," Samantha said in a hushed voice.  "That's just
the way things are."
     Both sat in silence while Samantha considered what it must
have been like for Missy.  It had to be different having a strong
father-figure around the house.  It couldn't have been worse than
living in almost starvation conditions with a mother who drank to
forget how her husband walked out and never returned after
Samantha was born.
     "What was it like?," Samantha finally asked.
     "What was what like?"
     "Having a father."
     Missy drew a deep breath and leaned back in her chair.  "Oh,
I don't know.  Normal, I guess.  Whatever that is."
     "Was he good to you?"
     "Good?  I suppose you could say that.  He never played with
me or anything while I was growing up but he never beat me
either, if that's what you mean by 'good'."
     Samantha shifted in her chair to face her section leader. 
"I mean, what's he like?"
     Missy shrugged.  "He's a member of the tribal council.  A
big man among our people, I guess.  Everyone comes to him with
their problems and he helps them.  So, in that sense, you could
say he's okay."
     "Did he treat you different than any of your brothers or
sisters?"
     Missy snorted softly.  "What brothers and sisters?  I'm all
there is.  After Mom had me, she discovered she couldn't have any
more children.  I guess that kinda bothered him."
     "Oh, sorry."
     "I'm used to it," Missy said dismissively.  "I guess the
worst is at family gatherings.  When it's really dark and the
moon rises, he stands by the fire and tells the family history. 
He's good at that.  He knows every warrior ancestor in the
family.  He can tell you who fought the best, who could fool an
enemy, who was the most loyal, and who counted the most coups."
     Samantha slumped deeper into her chair.  Counting coups was
the bravest thing a warrior could do; humiliating an opponent so
he had to live with the shame.  Touching an armed enemy without
killing him and living to tell about it was the stuff that won
eagle feathers - lots of them.
     "He's a pretty smart man.  Went to college and everything."
     "When you joined the RDF he must have been proud," Samantha
offered.
     "Proud?"  Missy almost choked on the word.  "I'm not
supposed to be a warrior, Sam.  I'm a girl.  To him, all I'm good
for is to marry a warrior and spend the rest of my life cooking,
cleaning, and bearing children - male children.  When I signed
up, instead of being pleased, he refused to even speak to me. 
I'd thrown away his only chance to have a warrior in the family."
     "But surely your escape from Miami Base proved you were as
good as any warrior."
     "Letting an enemy rape me, take from me the only treasure I
could offer a husband?  Losing my virginity is hardly the kind of
thing told around council fires to impress others.  No, what I
did was for survival - survival without honor."  Missy kicked out
of her chair like she wanted to escape.  "I wish there was
something stronger to drink here."
     "But surely --"                                        
     "NO!"  Missy spun around and glared at Samantha.  Carefully
woven defenses to horrible memories seemed to vanish under
Samantha's incessant probing.  "You don't understand.  You can't
understand.  You don't know what it's like.  No matter how many
times you wash, you still feel dirty.  The worst part is I can
never be with a man again.  I'll always see that animal's face,
feel his hands and his..."  She choked on her words, her jaw
trembling.
     "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to –"
     "Just drop it!" Missy barked between deep gasps.  
     Samantha watched helplessly as Missy turned away, her
shoulders shaking.  She was right.  Samantha had no way of
knowing what it was like, the desperation she must have felt to
submit to such a violation.
     "I shouldn't have said anything.  I'll... I'll go out and
check on the fighters," she said, standing up and turning towards
the door.  A glance back at Missy still crying left her feeling
rotten.
     Outside the cool evening air washed over her like a cold
shower.  Samantha walked slowly around her Veritech, casting
occasional glances at the Alert Post.  She saw Missy collapse on
one of the bunks, holding her head in her hands.  Cursing softly,
she asked herself why she couldn't learn to keep her big mouth
shut?
     What was wrong with these people?  This wasn't what she
expected in a combat squadron.  Besides Missy, everyone else
seemed to come with so much emotional baggage it was hard to
imagine them ever working together.
     She remembered the night they found Liz Littlebear in the
bar.  The woman said they were all doomed and nothing could save
them.  Maybe she was right.  Half of them weren't really
qualified to do this job in the first place and the other half
were so messed up they probably wouldn't be any good in a fight. 
A disciplined, professional enemy would only magnify their flaws.
     This was a mistake, she concluded.  She had no business
being here.  She could have been like her friend, Sandi; carefree
and traveling around the world, only concerned with which
boyfriend to date at whatever base she was at.
     "I swear, if I get out of this alive, I'm going back home
and never fly again," she muttered.  "This sucks."

     Jeff checked on the Operations Office and Communications. 
Finding both manned, he sighed and headed for the club.  With
everyone else occupied, he needed some time alone.
     That looked like a real possibility until he pushed open the
Club's swinging double doors.
     "Come on in, Colonel," Lieutenant Colonel Lawson said from
his bar stool as he hoisted his glass in a welcoming salute.
     "What are you doing here?  I thought you and your team were
pulling out in the morning."  Jeff ambled across to the bar and
plopped down on one of the stools.
     "We are.  I fly better when hung over.  Don't like
airplanes."  Richard swivelled around to lean on the bar with his
elbows, cupping the drink in his hands.
     "That must be quite a nuisance for you since the RDF has so
many."
     "Ah, but you see, we now have more ground units than
aircraft.  So, I fit right in."  Richard waved his glass making
the ice clink against its side.  It was obvious the man had a
sizeable head start on Jeff at the bar.
     "What can I get you, Colonel?" came a voice from a second
man in the room, one behind the bar.
     "Scotch and water... and who the heck are you?"  Jeff did a
double-take towards the newcomer.
     "Chen, Walter T.," the man replied.  "Bartender, club
manager, and all around good guy.  I can make any drink you want
and I'm a good listener."
     Jeff glanced between the new guy and Richard, ending with
the engineering officer.  "Is this the point where I ask what
he's doing here?"
     "He came in on that transport this morning along with six
food service personnel for the mess hall, three base maintenance
people, two nurses and a couple others whose specialties are
known only to themselves and your resourceful Lieutenant
Wallace."  Richard grinned and nodded before turning to Mr. Chen. 
"While you're getting the Colonel's drink, I'll have another one
of these."
     "You're well informed," Jeff noted.
     "In my business, details are what's important."  Richard
noticed Jeff's satisfied expression.  "Before you start thinking
you're sitting in the cat bird seat, let me remind you that a
base of this size requires twenty-eight food service personnel,
forty maintenance, and about sixty other ratings to function at
minimal standards.  You don't have enough pilots to man a
squadron, ground crews to fix all your Veritechs, security men to
guard it all, and hired hands like Mr. Chen here to keep the
place functioning."  He paused only when his drink was delivered. 
"Why in hell you took this assignment is a mystery to me."
     Jeff swallowed a gulp of his drink.  "Emerson said this was
a critical location.  He was desperate enough to keep me from
retiring and I was stupid enough to agree."  Jeff's nose wrinkled
at the taste of his drink.  "Mr. Chen, when I ask for a scotch
and water, I'd appreciate it if you'd remember I mean lots of
scotch and only a hint of water.  God knows, this reformulated
crap trying to pass as scotch can't stand to be watered."
     "I'll remember that, sir," the bartender replied with an odd
little bow.
     Richard groaned and shook his head.  "Are you even
listening?"
     "You were saying something about General Emerson."
     "General Emerson was only following orders from higher up. 
I suppose I shouldn't be telling you this but you're just a trip-
wire.  They know the lid is going to blow once the Yorkies think
they're strong enough and get the Grays to join them.  They mean
to sweep over this entire southern half of the sector; from
Florida to the Rockies.  In short, you are all that stands in the
way of them marching straight through to Albuquerque."  Richard
slid his hand across the bar to demonstrate the power of a
combined York/UCS force.
     "They might get a bit of an argument out of those in the
Protectorate," Jeff noted.
     "The Zentraedi are formidable fighters when properly
equipped.  I'll grant you that.  But they cannot maintain the
equipment they currently have and they have no way of securing
new equipment while in the Protectorate.  They're a hollow
military force, that's getting more hollow every day."
     Jeff shook his head.  "The Yorkies have antiquated equipment
and the Grays, outside the stuff they captured at Miami Base,
aren't much better."
     "You really need to have that 'Daisy Maye' intelligence
officer of yours do a better job.  We've known for almost a month
that the Eastern Block Soviet Independent State has been
supplying the Grays and Yorkies.  Hell, the Grays have been
flying Migs over the Protectorate for a couple of months daring
the Zentraedi to do something about it.  So far, they've resisted
the bait."
     The mention of Migs brought back Jeff's initial meeting with
Missy Robins.  She mentioned avoiding Migs over the Protectorate. 
He remembered how the RDF Intelligence officers dismissed her
claim as the work of her overly-tired mind.  If she really did
see one of those UCS forays into the Protectorate, Fox Squadron
could be in for more than they bargained.
     "Just between you and me, I don't think they cared what kind
of squadron they put down here.  All they wanted was warm bodies
to get their ass shot off in the assault's opening phase so the
Army of the Southern Cross, not to mention Field Marshal Leonard,
could ride to the rescue."  Richard downed his drink and slammed
the glass on the bar.  "Another," he ordered.
     "This all assumes that the Quebec military stays out of it. 
They're a huge Zentraedi force backed by the latest equipment.
They are not to be taken lightly.  Once they see their fellow
Zentraedi being massacred, they'll come swarming out of Quebec
and nothing will stop them until they get to Cuba."
     Richard snorted in his drink.  "Don't you think Leonard has
already thought of that?  I don't care what you think of him as a
person, he's a pretty sharp strategist and knows how to play the
game.  He knows nobody can win a two-front war.  With the
Frenchies hitting them on one side and his still-growing ASC on
the other, they won't stand a chance.  He's just itching to get
the Yorkies and Grays to attack.  He can clean out the entire
North American Sector in a single stroke."
     "Sounds ambitious."
     "I'll bet Leonard gets hard every time he thinks about it.
Giving him a chance to eliminate the last organized resistance to
his plans is a dream come true.  He can then concentrate on South
America.  Eventually, the World Government will control the
entire Western Hemisphere.  From there, only the EBSIS will offer
any pretense of resistance to reuniting the world under a single
government."
     "You don't sound very encouraging."  Jeff downed the
remainder of his drink in a single gulp and motioned for Mr. Chen
to refill.
     Richard grew silent for a few moments.  "Yeah, I sometimes
get on a roll.  But you know, despite all that, I have to believe
this won't end us all.  For the first time in a generation, we
could be on the verge of peace."
     "Peace?" Jeff gasped, practically choking on his drink.
     "Okay, maybe that's a bit extreme.  Call it a lack of
organized resistance.  I'm an engineer, Colonel.  I have to be
optimistic.  I couldn't continue working if I thought I was
wasting my time building things.  I have to believe there's hope
for mankind."
     "Hope, eh?"  Jeff rattled the ice in his cup.  "Very well." 
He raised his glass.  "Here's to hope.  It's probably all we've
got."

*****

     Katherine finished reviewing the daily reports and slumped
back in her chair.  Flexing her tired fingers, she shook her head
at the absurdity of her task.  Cindy had already transmitted the
official copy by computer earlier in the evening.  As usual, her
report was concise, accurate, and complete - except for the parts
Colonel Stuart redacted before electronically signing.
     With a sigh, she stacked the papers before dropping them in
the 'out' box.  Why the RDF still required these hand-written
forms had to be lost somewhere in the bureaucratic tradition of
the military.
     "Well, at least I got them done," she muttered, standing up
and stretching.  "Now all I have to do is feed the cat and go
watch a movie or something before bed."
     Switching off the office lights, she closed the door and
started for her room.  She had to be back at 0500 to finalize the
duty roster and post the maintenance report.  Just like the old
training squadron, she thought.  Some things never change.

*****

     With their celebration in full swing, Kay and Gail
supervised the others like mothers at a juvenile birthday party. 
Soft drinks flowed freely and they were well into their second
batch of popcorn.  Cindy ruled the pool table, beating all comers
with a flourish that suggested she was more than just a little,
owl-eyed office drone.  Mary Cook-Lynn kept the music coming,
although her taste ran decidedly towards the 'bubblegum' variety,
while Anne Twotree and Gloria Graywolf mingled with the younger
members like a couple of indulgent older sisters.
     Well after dark, a group of them gathered in the middle of
the room on pillows and blankets to tell stories.  Most told of
things that happened to them or someone they knew.  A few spun
wildly impossible tales about dates that went bad or embarrassing
situations they had endured.
     Through it all, Kay and Gail laughed along with the girls
and encouraged them to add more details, some turning the
storytellers red with embarrassment.
     "Kay, why don't you tell everyone how you met the Colonel?"
Gail asked with a mischievous grin.
     With a dismissive wave of her hand, Kay tried to avoid the
issue.  "It was a long time ago.  Nobody is interested in that,"
she said.
     "Aw, come on, Mrs. Stuart," one of the younger girls begged.
     "Yeah, it's your turn," another added.
     With calls from just about everyone in the room, Kay stood
fast.  Some things were just too personal, she insisted.
     "If you're not going to tell them, I will," Gail said over
the cacophony of young voices.
     Kay's skeptical expression only spurred her sister on.
     "Okay, kiddies, here's the real story," Gail began as she
wiggled on her pillow and adjusted her pajama top.  "One night,
Kay was taking a night ride on her horse.  It was a beautiful
summer evening, so cool and clear, that she decided to ride
towards the Black Hills.  When she crested a small rise, she came
upon a strange airplane.  Thinking it was just an abandoned
aircraft left over from the war, she rode up to get a closer
look.  Turned out it wasn't as old as she thought.  It smelled of
lubricants and was warm to the touch.  Being the daughter of a
tribal elder, she felt it was her duty to investigate further. 
When she did, she found its pilot laying nearby, injured but
still alive.  Using her knowledge of herbs and healing, she made
the pilot comfortable and set about tending his wounds."
     Gail paused to note that everyone in the room was listening
to her.  With a sly grin, she continued.
     "It was getting colder but he was in no condition to move. 
So, she pulled the blanket off her horse and covered him.  But he
was still trembling from the cool air, so she crawled under the
blanket with him - just to keep him warm, you understand."
     The girls giggled and made a few suggestions at Gail's
story.  Kay just shook her head.
     "She stayed with him for three days and when her father
finally rode out to find her, she was still under the blanket
with him."  Gail rocked back with a satisfied look on her face. 
"Naturally, her father insisted they get married right away."
     "Gail Lynn, you are such a liar," Kay said with a skeptical
look.  "I did NOT sleep with a man before marriage."
     "Not even a little hanky-panky?" Gail prodded.
     "You're terrible," Kay insisted, shaking her head.
     Questions erupted from the girls, bombarding Kay until she
was forced to silence them with a promise of telling the real
story.
     "What really happened wasn't quite so... erotic."  Kay shot
her sister a mock frown.  "The war had been long over when I met
Jeffrey.
     "It did happen in early summer, that much she got right, but
the circumstances were far different.  My father and Uncle Joseph
were in charge of rounding up the tribal cattle for a count.  
     We spent all morning herding what cattle we could find back
to a stockade we had built.  It got hot as the sun rose overhead
and we were all dusty and dirty from the work.
     "After a count, we found there were two missing, a cow and
her calf.  Worried about wolves, my father insisted we all go out
and look.  My two older cousins, Julie and Ellen, were to go with
me towards the river while Uncle Joseph and father looked towards
the mountains.
     "We rode for a couple of hours but saw no sign of the cows. 
Julie was the best tracker in our group but even she couldn't
find any trace of them.  By the time we got to the river, we were
sore, tired, and ready for a rest.
     "It had been a drier than normal winter and spring, so the
river was little more than a stream linking a bunch of deep rocky
holes full of water.  Ellen suggested we water the horses before
starting back.  As the horses drank their fill, Julie made some
comment about how cool the water looked.  Since nobody was
around, we pulled off our jeans and boots and waded in.  It was
wonderful.  We splashed about for awhile and ended up laying on
the warm rocks in our underwear to dry.
     "Ellen was just getting up to gather the horses for our trip
back when I heard what sounded like thunder high overhead.  I
looked up and saw a single puff of black smoke against the deep
blue sky.  Then there came another boom that sounded more like an
explosion and a dark streak began to arc overhead.  In a few
moments, it dropped lower and turned back towards us.  As it got
closer, I heard another boom, not as loud as the first, and saw
something fly off the object.  It was then I knew I was watching
an airplane about to crash.  What separated had to be the pilot
bailing out.
     "The plane passed overhead before crashing a couple miles 
or so away but the pilot came down towards us in his parachute. 
The wind grew stronger for a few moments and blew him towards a
clump of trees next to the river about a quarter mile upstream.
     "I grabbed Julie and told her to go find the fathers. 
Pulling on our shirts, Ellen and I ran up the riverbed, watching
the pilot land in the trees.  By the time we got there, he was
tangled upside down in the branches about twenty feet off the
ground."
     "I love this part," Gail added.
     Shooting her sister a warning look, Kay continued. 
"Standing almost underneath him, wearing only my work shirt, my
legs all splattered with mud and my hair still wet, I saw him
move slightly to look directly at me.  Then he said: 'I must be
dead because I'm looking at an angel.'"
     Some of the girls groaned at the corny line while the others
giggled.
     "Sure he wasn't looking at your cousin?" Gail chided.
     "No, he was looking at me," Kay insisted.  That only
elicited more giggles and demands she finish the story.
     Kay held up her hands.  "Okay, I won't leave you hanging." 
More giggles at her choice of words only caused her to roll her
eyes.  "Anyway, Ellen went to get one of the horses and a rope
from my saddle.  His arm was broken but otherwise he appeared to
be okay.  Obviously, he couldn't climb down by himself so I
climbed up the tree to cut him loose."
     "I heard from Ellen that his eyes got big when you stood on
a branch next to him and reached up to cut his feet free."
     "GAIL!"  Kay reached over to swat her sister's shoulder. 
"She couldn't have seen that.  She was getting one of the
horses."  Kay suddenly covered her mouth at the revelation.  The
girls just giggled harder.
     "Oh, that's right.  YOU told me that part," Gail added
before ducking another sisterly swat.
     Restoring order, Kay sighed and resumed her story.  "We got
him loose and lowered him to the ground with the rope tied to
Ellen's horse.  I immobilized his arm as best I could using some
sticks and a couple of old rags I had in my saddlebags.  He
wasn't hurt bad and I figured he could probably stand the ride
back to my house.  So, Ellen and I dressed and put him on my
horse.  We rode double, him in front."
     "I hear you had your arms around him all the way back." 
Gail grinned like there was more to the story.
     "I had to hold on to something," Kay replied.
     "Sure it was the saddle horn you were holding on to?" Gail
asked with a leer.
     "GAIL!"  Kay didn't have to feign shock at her sister's lewd
suggestion.  Squeals from the girls suggested Gail's imagery was
infectious.  "Wait till I get you alone."
     Gail leaned a little closer.  "Did you have to use two
hands?"
     More squeals of laughter accompanied Kay's use of a large
pillow on her sister.  Scrambling to get away from the relentless
attack, Gail got to her feet and tried backing through the crowd
of girls.  Gloria and Anne winked at each other and when Gail got
between them, they quickly yanked down her pajama bottoms. 
Alone, that would have been funny enough but without underwear,
it just caused the girls to collapse in laughter.  Gail ended up
on her side, laughing so hard her face turned bright red.
     It took several minutes for everyone to calm down enough for
Kay to continue her story.  Gail, accouterments finally adjusted,
resumed her place on a pillow next to Kay.
     "Anyway, father and Uncle Joseph met us about half way and
we all rode back to the house together.  None of us spoke to
Jeffrey because he was a stranger.  He was unusually quiet as
well.  It was kinda like he was embarrassed or something.
     "Anyway, since we didn't have a phone or anything at the
house, father had Ellen and Julie ride to the mission station to
call the authorities.  We knew it would be morning before they
could get back with the tribal police so we made him comfortable
and offered him the hospitality of our home.  I cooked a modest
dinner while Father finished checking his arm.  I know it must
have hurt but Jeffrey never cried out.  That impressed Father.  
     "When we sat down to eat, Jeffrey became more talkative.  He
acted like I had fixed him the best meal in the world.  He just
went on and on about how good it was.  I never answered him, of
course.  After all, I was just doing what I did every day. 
Still, it was a little flattering."
     "I'll bet he didn't take his eyes off you all evening,"
Gloria said from her position behind the younger girls.
     "That's so romantic," one of the girls gushed with a sigh
causing the others to voice their approval.
     "Not really," Kay admitted.  "Other than Jeffrey's comments
on the meal, none of us spoke.  I was too scared and Father was
fulfilling his obligation to an injured stranger.  Or maybe
Father sensed Jeffrey was a warrior.  He can tell such things
about people just by looking at them.
     "Anyway, after dinner, Jeffrey went outside and sat on the
porch.  I saw him fumbling with some small device that he had
pulled from his pocket."
     "Probably a Mark Two Emergency Beacon transmitter," Mary
said with a nod.  "Its signal could be picked up by a satellites
overhead and his exact position triangulated so rescue would know
where to find him." 
     Anne cast Mary a quizzical look.  "How do you know that?
Those things have been obsolete for ten years."
     "I guess old things are kind of a hobby," Mary said with a
shrug.  "Those pre-war people were pretty ingenious.  I've got an
old CD player in my room."
     "It still works?" Anne gasped.
     "Sure.  You wanna see it?"
     "You bet.  Got any music for it?"
     "Of course."
     Their private conversation ended when several girls
'shushed' them.
     "After we did the dishes, Father sat down to listen to the
radio and I went out to enjoy the cool evening," Kay said.  "When
I got there, I could tell Jeffrey wasn't happy.  He just sat with
a dejected look on his face.  I asked him what was wrong.  I must
have sounded like a fool doing it because my voice wouldn't stay
steady as I asked.  You see, back then, we were raised to not
talk to strangers.  I wasn't even supposed to be there alone with
him.  But I figured Father was just inside and I was dying with
curiosity.  I'd never been farther than the mission station in my
life.  Girls were supposed to stay home until introduced to a
suitable young man."
     "That's creepy," one of the younger girls said.
     "Maybe to you," Kay said softly.  "But it worked to protect
us."
     "A way that existed for hundreds of years," Gail added with
some pride.
     Kay glanced at Gail with a little smile.  "Anyway, I wanted
to know about the world outside our lands.  I caught bits a
pieces from the radio and Father got a weekly newspaper that I
read when he was finished.  But this was a chance to talk to
someone actually living 'out there'.  So, I sat down to talk to
him."
     "Did you sit real close?" another girl asked with an excited
voice.
     "No, that wouldn't have been proper," Kay said, blushing at
the floor.  "I was just close enough to talk but not too close. 
After all, he was still a stranger."
     "What did you talk about?" Anne asked.  The way she was
leaning forward suggested she had a subject in mind.
     Kay smiled at Anne.  "He talked about a world I had only
dreamed of.  It was full of wonderful devices and exciting
people.  He told me of his family and how his father disappeared
during the Great War where the whole world, like hundreds of
tribes, fought with fantastic weapons.  But when I asked if the
airplane that crashed was one of those weapons, he just got
silent.  Afraid that I had somehow offended him, I cursed myself
for being so forward.  After that, we just sat in silence and
listened to the sounds that came to us on the night air."
     "That's it?"  Gloria sounded incredulous.
     "Yes.  He remained silent and I was so embarrassed about
asking something I shouldn't that I couldn't bring myself to ask
anything else.  Besides, it was getting late and we were both
tired."
     "Ah, then you shared a bed together," Gloria exclaimed.
     "Certainly not," Kay insisted.  "He slept in Father's bed
and Father slept on the floor in the living room."
     "So, what happened after that?" Cindy asked anxiously.
     "Not much.  After breakfast, the tribal police arrived in
their rover.  Jeffrey thanked us both, got in the rover and
left."
     "That's the whole story?" Gloria asked with a confused look.
     "Not quite," Gail prodded.  "He came back that weekend."
     Kay blushed again.  "Yes, he showed up at our annual spring
celebration in his uniform with his arm in a sling.  Only, I
didn't know it at the time.  Father saw him first and detoured
Jeffrey over to the elders.  Our people have always been
impressed with an accomplished warrior and Jeffrey was certainly
that.
     "Since I was in the jingle-dress dance competition, I wore
my best doe skin dress with the little silver bells and the fancy
beadwork that took me all winter to finish.  Ellen had done my
hair - she really was good at that.  Most of the competitors
usually asked her to help them get ready but she always did me
first."
     "Yeah, I hear you won that evening," Gail said with a yawn.
     "Yes, Mother had taught me everything she knew and she was
the best.  I'm told that's what attracted Father to her in the
first place.  Anyway, they asked Jeffrey to present my prize, a
really nice Star quilt.  I think Father put him up to it - the
old matchmaker.  Still, I have to admit, Jeffrey looked so
handsome and I was so nervous that I couldn't bring myself to do
more than glance at him.  I must have been blushing the whole
time.  My hands shook so badly that when he handed me the quilt I
almost dropped it.  As I left the dance circle, I could hear the
other women whispering because Jeffrey was
still watching me as I walked towards the dressing tent.  I was
so scared of his attention that I almost stayed there the rest of
the evening.  I had no experience with men in that way.  Ellen
finally convinced me to go see him.  She was right, I would have
been sorry if I didn't at least talk to him.
     "As it turned out, we spent the whole celebration together. 
I taught him all about what was going on and how each was
important to our people.  He told me more about his life and what
it was like in the RDF.  It sounded so exciting.  He even stayed
at our house again."
     "And nature just took its course from there," Gail said,
ending the story.
     "If you mean we were married six months later, yes."  Kay
blushed.  "He had become so much of our lives that our people
accepted him as 'the white warrior who came from the sky.'  I
think he liked that title.
     Kay finished her story to a silent room.  She stared at the
floor with a satisfied expression.  To her people, she was a
successful woman in the traditional manner.  Only the lack of a
child stood between her and the lofty goal of perfection.
     A hand on her shoulder caused her to look up.  "You're one
lucky girl, Sis," Gail said. 
     Kay nodded and looked back at the floor.  A little smile
growing as she did.  "Yes, I guess I am."

*****

     "Thanks for helping me," Virginia said from under her
helicopter.  She had run a series of diagnostics on it earlier in
the day after they unloaded it and discovered a minor hydraulic
leak.  Not completely unexpected since it had been so neglected
after she transferred to flying Veritechs.
     "I don't mind," Linda Crowkiller replied, kneeling on the
ground next to Virginia's legs.  "It was either this or go to the
party with the kids.  Yuck!"
     Virginia chuckled.  "Yeah, I know what you mean.  It's more
fun out here tinkering with my buddy."
     "Your buddy?"
     "My chopper.  This old girl an' me have been through a lot
together."  Virginia patted the metal shielding that ran the
length of the helicopter's bottom.  More than once that shielding
had protected her from ground fire.
     "I see."  It was Linda's turn to chuckle.  "Next thing you
know, you'll be giving it a name.  How about 'Alphonse'?"
     "What kind of lunatic names their vehicles?"  Virginia
paused tightening a nut and looked at Linda with a raised
eyebrow.
     "I saw it in a TV show.  Some girl who drove a large robot-
like vehicle named her's 'Alphonse'."
     "I don't think I've ever heard of a show like that." 
Virginia slid out from under her helicopter.
     "I've got it on disk.  You wanna go watch?"
     Virginia thought for a moment.  "Yeah, sure.  Why not?  We
can grab a couple of drinks on our way and watch it in your
room."
     "Cool."  Linda stood up, brushing off her coveralls.  "Maybe
even raid the fridge for some goodies."
     "Yeah, who needs their party?  We can have one of our own."

*****

     A lone rover bounced along the gravel road from Ozark Base. 
Nancy Montoya cheerfully wrestled the wheel to keep the vehicle
between the drainage ditches on either side.  Daisy clung to the
roll cage with one hand and hooked her other around the driver's
seat to keep from being ejected at every unexpected rut.  She
didn't really like being in the front passenger seat.  It was too
small and offered little leg room.  A glance back at Ona and
Bobbi Jo didn't make her feel much better.  The tall Zentraedi
and short red-head looked right at home in the rover's back end
while enduring the punishment of Nancy's frantic driving.
     The gravel soon gave way to pavement as they turned onto the
main road into town.  As smooth as many sections were,
interruptions of dark surprises punctuated their travel.  Parts
of the black-top paving had crumbled away from neglect and use,
leaving pot holes everywhere.  On closer examination, it looked
like someone had attempted to fill in most of the holes with
gravel and sand.  A valiant effort but one doomed to constant
refilling as vehicles bounced through them, spreading the loose
material across the road.
     The rover only slowed down when they reached the outskirts
of Ozark City.  The experience was decidedly underwhelming.  
     Lack of community electricity left the street dark and
dangerous-looking.  Only the lights of a few establishments lit
the way, illuminating pockets of their surroundings in pale
shafts of light.  A cat, at least it looked like a cat, scampered
across the street only to disappear into the darkness between two
buildings.
     "This isn't very impressive," Nancy said, a touch of
disappointment in her voice.
     "Looks to me like they roll up the sidewalks at dusk," Daisy
replied.
     Ona silently looked left and right when the rover slowed,
like she anticipated an imminent ambush.  Darkened one-story
buildings, some with fake Western facades, loomed on either side
of the street.  The sound of the rover's engine echoed off the
empty buildings, giving them a feeling of isolation.
     "Let's try that place."  Bobbi Jo pointed out what looked
like a bar in the first cluster of buildings.

     "Good as any, I suppose."  Nancy swung the rover towards the
building and slid to a stop less than a foot from the raised
sidewalk.  "Man, this place is the pits."
     Daisy quietly agreed as they slowly climbed out of the
vehicle.  Standing outside in such a silent and shadowy
environment left all four a bit anxious as they frowned at the
establishment's name.
     "Momma's Place," Nancy read aloud.
     "Even the name sucks," Daisy said with a sigh.  "Well, we
came all this way.  We might as well see what they've got."
     Three of them climbed the steps leading to the make-shift
bar.  Ona hesitated before following, adding one complete turn
when she reached the top step.  Something wasn't right about this
place but she couldn't tell what.
     Inside, a low buzz of conversation came from the occupants
of tables along the room's right side.  Rough-looking men
accustomed to physical labor watched the four girls as they
cautiously entered.  Conversation died away until the room fell
silent.  All eyes followed the four as they picked a table along
the far wall.
     "We're being watched," Nancy said softly in Lakota.  Daisy
just grunted her acknowledgment.
     An older lady stood behind a worn saloon bar, her counter
wiping frozen as she too watched the girls enter.  Her expression
wasn't hostile but contained a degree of curiosity that bordered
on confusion.
     Bobbi Jo confidently pulled out her chair and smiled at the
gawking men as she sat down.  The other three followed, although
with far less confidence, their chairs squeaking and groaning on
the rough floor.
     For several moments, the room remained frozen like an old
painting before the old woman sighed and dropped her dirty rag on
the counter.  Wiping her hands on a stained apron, the slightly
overweight woman waddled up to the table and regarded each
occupant with a critical eye.
     "Do you have a wine list?" Bobbi Jo asked with an
mischievous grin.
     The old woman eyed her coldly.  "You ladies ain't from
around here, are you?"
     "We came in yesterday," Bobbi Jo replied, keeping her
friendly smile in place.  "This is our first opportunity to see
the town."
     The old woman snorted.  "Y'all from the base, ain't cha?"
     "Yes, we're with the RDF."
     "I saw your machines overhead ta' other day.  You got any
pilots on that base?  Pilots drink a lot.  Good for business." 
The old woman shifted like her feet were hurting and warily swept
the others with her eyes.
     "Well, if we bring back a good report, y'all might jess see
some of those pilots."  The red-head's eyes sparkled as she
talked.
     "You sound like you from around here."
     "My ma used to own a laundry up the road a piece."
     Squinting at Bobbi Jo like she was trying to peer through
time, a wave of recognition washed over the old woman.  "Lordy,
are you Mary Baker's little girl?"  When Bobbi Jo nodded, the old
woman clasped her hands to her ample bosom.  "Your momma an' me
knew each other since we were no bigger than a hound dog's
backside.  How are you, girl?"
     "Happy, healthy, and powerful thirsty," Bobbi Jo replied
with her 'cute little girl' grin.  "These are my friends; Daisy,
Nancy, and Ona.  Ladies, this is Mrs. Jean Kelley.  I'd recognize
her anywhere."
     "Y'all call me Momma Jean.  Everybody else does."  The old
woman smiled at each until her eyes fell on Ona.  The smile faded
as she stared at the Zentraedi, her expression straining to
remain friendly.  Tilting her head a bit, her brow furrowed.

     Ona returned the woman's stare for a few moments before
averting her eyes to the table.  She could tell that look.  She'd
seen it just about every day of her short life and lived with it
for her entire tour in South America.  It meant Zentraedi weren't
welcome.  Her presence was going to make things hard for her
friends.
     Pushing back in her chair, the legs squeaking as they rubbed
the rough-hewn floor, she stood up.  "I'll wait outside," she
said softly.  "I don't want to cause any trouble."
     A quick glance at the scowling men only confirmed her
decision.  She could feel their angry eyes burning into her as
she started for the door.
     Bobbi Jo was the first to follow, kicking out of her chair
so fast it tipped over with a loud bang.  "What's the matter with
you?  We're here to have a little fun."
     Daisy and Nancy also stood up.  "If she's not welcome,
neither are we," Daisy said, leaving no ambiguity to her meaning.
     Ona allowed herself to be stopped but refused to look at
either Bobbi Jo or the old woman.  She just stood in silence.
     "You don't have to leave."
     Momma Jean's touch on her shoulder caused her to slowly look
the old woman's way.  
     "Sit down... please," Momma Jean said, casting a warning
look at the men.  "Forgive this old fool fo'gettin her manners. 
We all lost somebody in that war.  I 'spec it hard to f'get."
     Ona hesitated.  She heard the words but another glance at
the men confirmed the sentiment wasn't unanimous.  Staying would
probably hurt the old woman's business more than could possibly
be made up by squadron visits.  She came along to drive the
others back when they'd had enough to drink.  That could be
accomplished just as well by waiting out in the rover.
     Looking between her two friends and the stalwart Intel
Officer, only made the decision harder.  She could see in their
eyes a determination to follow through on their threats to leave.
     Momma Jean cast a withering glare at the men.  "This here...
woman is a friend of my little Bobbi Jo.  If she's good enough
for the daughter of Mary Baker, then she's good enough for me."
     Some of the men turned back to their drinks, hunching over
like the issue had been settled and they didn't care anymore. 
Their conversations were hushed but didn't sound threatening.  A
couple, however, downed their drinks in a single gulp and headed
for the door.  Their obvious distaste in sharing a room with one
like those who ravaged their world hard to miss.
     Momma Jean wasted no time in guiding Ona back to her seat. 
When the men resumed their card games, everything seemed to
return to normal.
     "Pay them no mind, child," Momma Jean said.  "Feudin' and
fussin' is a way of life here about.  Folks anymore are long on
memories and short on Christian fo'giveness.  You always welcome
here."  She smiled at each of the girls, ending with Ona.  "Even
you."
     Ona nodded.  "Thank you."
     "You call me: Momma.  Jess like everyone else."  Momma Jean
finished by pinching Ona's cheek as if she was a little girl. 
Ona endured the gesture with a painful smile, figuring it was
just some local custom.  "Now, what can I get you girls?"

     Liz pulled her rover into a parking spot next to the other
base vehicle.  "Looks like we won't be drinking alone," she said
turning off the engine.
     "I still think we should have gone down to the Club," Karen
mumbled as she cast a disapproving look at the bar.  "Lieutenant
Wallace said a club manager came in on the transport today."
     "We can go to the Club anytime," Liz replied, climbing out
of the rover and stretching.  "This is our chance to see some of
the town."
     Karen slowly climbed out of her seat.  "Liz, it's dark. 
There's nothing to see but abandoned and closed buildings on
either side of a pitted and crumbling road.  The place gives me
the creeps."
     "You haven't seen the inside yet.  It's gotta be better
inside."  Liz started up the steps leading to bar's door.
     With a sigh, Karen trudged after her friend.  This whole
trip was a waste of time and probably good money.  If it wasn't
for Liz being one of the few people in the squadron that acted
like they could even stand being in the same room with her, she'd
get back in the rover and drive back to base.
     Pushing open the door, they were met with a wave of odors,
most pleasant, and sounds of a scratchy country and western
ballad playing on an old fashioned record player.  A bunch of
card-playing men at tables along the right side barely looked
their way.  Liz smiled and turned left.  Karen started to follow
before jerking to a halt.
     "What's the matter?" Liz asked, once she noticed her
friend's hesitation.
     Karen said nothing but continued to glare straight ahead. 
When Liz looked over her shoulder and noticed who was sitting at
one of the tables, she stifled a groan.
     "Look, we'll sit in the back, well away from them.  It'll be
fine."  She tugged at Karen's arm.
     "What's SHE doing here," Karen hissed just loud enough for
Liz to hear.
     Liz sighed.  "I don't know, Casey.  What difference does it
make?  If it will make you happy, we'll just have a few drinks
and leave.  Okay?"
     Karen tore her eyes away from the disagreeable Ona Parino
and scanned the rest of the bar.  Outside of the tacky Native
American tourist crap hanging on the wall, the occasional leering
man across the room, and a few flickering lights, it wasn't all
that bad a place.  She'd certainly been in worse and fought her
way out of better.
     "Fine," she said with a heavy sigh.  "But I don't want to
sit where I have to look at that... that freak."
     Liz closed her eyes and shook her head before leading Karen
to a table as far away from their squadronmates as she could
without leaving the bar.  
     A heavy-set woman soon waddled up after delivering mugs of
frosty-looking brews to the other table.  "My, but we sure
gettin' popular with the women.  Wish some of yo menfolk would
visit.  I could use the business."
     Liz glanced over at the men playing cards.  "I doubt many
will make it this far.  Most are either too old, too young, or
married."
     "Even the pilots.  Y'all gotta have pilots at that base,"
the old woman insisted.
     "Lady, we ARE the pilots," Liz replied with folded arms.
     The old woman blinked at Liz before looking towards the
other table.  "Then... they's pilots, too?"
     "I'm afraid so.  Disappointed?"  Liz cocked her head
slightly with the question.
     "I suppose not.  It's jess I always thought y'all had men to
fly them things."  The old woman grimaced a bit at what she was
saying.
     "We're fresh out of men.  Outside the Colonel, we're all
women pilots."  Liz rocked back in her chair.  "How about you
bring us whatever they're having?"
     "Sure," the old woman said like she was still trying to
figure out what a squadron of women were doing in the Ozarks.
     "And try to find something newer to play on that music-box
of yours," Liz called to the retreating woman.
     "You really know how to pick 'em," Karen said with a
theatrical sigh.  "This place is about as lively as a mortuary."
     "Maybe we're early."
     "For what?  A wake?"
     "Donno.  Let's see what develops."  Liz paused when she
noticed the red-headed Intel Officer approaching.
     "Good to see you ladies," Bobbi Jo said, leaning on the
table.  "Any more coming?"
     "Probably not," Liz replied.  "Been here long?"
     "No, just got here ourselves.  Want to join us?"
     Liz glanced at Karen.  Her expression confirmed the
proposition was a loser.  "Not right now.  Maybe later."
     "Suit yourself."  Bobbi Jo winked at Liz and started across
the room towards the men.
     "What's she up to?" Karen asked with a suspicious frown at
the Intel Officer.
     "Probably going to work."

     Bobbi Jo approached the nearest table of men playing cards. 
With mug in hand, she watched them play a few hands.
     "What'cha playin'," she asked, rocking on her heels and
striking her most innocent expression.
     "Deadman," one of the men replied before leaning over and
spitting a stream of brown liquid into a nearby spittoon.
     "Never played that one befo'.  You take government credits?"
     The men exchanged grinning glances.  "Sho' nuff, little
lady.  Give her some room, boys."  The men scooted their chairs
slightly to make room for Bobbi Jo.
     Sitting with her back to the wall, she placed her mug on the
table and fished out a handful of credit notes and coins.  "Hope
I got enough," she said innocently.  
     The men chuckled and arranged their own meager stashes of
money.  It was obvious they intended on lightening Bobbi Jo's
financial burden.
     "So, y'all come here often?" she asked, flirting with each
man in turn.  Settling in for a long evening, she watched
carefully as one of the men dealt the cards.

     Time passed quickly, more so for those drinking.  Ona
finally relaxed enough to enjoy a pleasant conversation with
Daisy and Nancy about things that happened while unloading the
train.  
     Liz, despite the amount of alcohol she poured down Karen,
couldn't get her friend to talk about South America.  All she did
get was confirmation that Karen flew with Skull Squadron and
didn't think much of the new commander who took over from Max
Sterling.
     She did notice one thing new; every time Ona Parino laughed,
Karen's face twitched.  While it wasn't a lot to go on, it did
present a clue.  Something in Parino's voice triggered a strong
negative response in Karen.  
     Nancy was the first to feel the need to make room for more
beer.  She asked Momma Jean about rest room facilities.
     "'Bout all I got is an outhouse out back," she said, jerking
her thumb towards a door in the back.  "Hope you don't mind. 
Sure do miss flush toilets.  Anyway, it's clean.  Lime is by the
door."
     Nancy thanked the woman and started for the exit.  Ona
abruptly pushed back from the table and followed, either out of
her own need or a concern for her friend's safety.
     Leaving the bar by the back door, the two found themselves
in a narrow gravel-paved alley that was barely wide enough for a
single vehicle to squeeze by.  Just as Momma Jean said, directly
across the alley was a fairly new-looking outhouse, perched
precariously over a sheer drop.
     "You go first," Ona said, peering over the edge at the
darkness below.  "I can wait."
     "Okay, but if I fall in, you have to come after me," Nancy
replied with a giggle as she staggered into the small box-like
structure.
     Ona retreated back across the alley and leaned against the
bar's back wall.  Her eyes continually worked back and forth as
if she expected trouble.  She couldn't put her finger on just why
she was so uneasy but there was something not right here. 
Unarmed, they would be hard pressed to deal with any ambush.  All
the more reason to be on guard.
     A few minutes later, Nancy emerged from the outhouse, still
adjusting her pants as she walked.  "I left you a warm seat.  The
toilet paper is in a can on the floor.  That's what took me so
long.  Feeling around in the dark sucks."
     Ona opened the door and peered in.  "Why don't they put a
light in here?"
     "Believe me, it wouldn't be an improvement.  I'll wait for
you here."  Nancy staggered away from the outhouse, ending only
when the same wall Ona used earlier stopped her.
     Nodding Ona cautiously entered the outhouse and closed the
door.
     Nancy leaned against the wall, her world a surreal blur of
dark alleys and twinkling stars overhead.  It was the kind of
feeling she only got from good hooch.  The bar's back door
suddenly swung open and Momma Jean leaned out.
     "Oh, there you are," the old woman said.  "I'm having a
little trouble with that gizmo my late husband salvaged from a
damaged Zentraedi 'hopper' to power the bar.  Daisy is looking at
it but she said she needs yo' help.  Could y'all be a dear and
lend her a hand?"
     Shrugging, Nancy followed Momma Jean back inside.

     Moments later, Ona emerged from the outhouse with a
disgusted expression.  No doubt about it, that place was the
pits.  Her expression abruptly changed when she saw what was
waiting for her.
     Three men, clad in GMP black and gray uniforms surrounded
her, their stunners drawn.  Quickly sizing up the situation, Ona
concluded there wasn't any purpose in resisting - for now.
     "Boys, look at what we got here," the GMP man in front of
her said with a sneer.  "Looks like that local yokel wasn't lying
when he said there was a Zentraedi in the bar."
     Snapping on a small flashlight, he held up a photograph next
to Ona's face and smiled at the comparison.  "Looks like we hit
the jackpot."  He snapped off the light and chuckled.  "The Major
is sure going to be pleased with this catch."
     Ona felt a stunner jab her in the ribs and heard an angry
voice.  "Okay, let's go."
     A couple shoves indicated they wanted her to go up the
alley.  Another glance at their weapons and she complied with a
steely expression.  The GMP weren't known for their delicacy in
dealing with those they considered criminals.  She could only
surmise that, to them, she was exactly that.
     "Why am I being arrested?" she asked, her voice low and non-
threatening.
     One of the GMP men jerked her to a halt and spun her around
to face him.  With his face only inches from her own, he snarled:
"Remember me?"
     Try as she might, she couldn't place his face with a
location.  
     When she shook her head, the man growled.  "Then maybe THIS
will remind you."  His punch landed hard against her stomach,
driving the air from her lungs and doubling her over.  Another
blow landed aside her head and she dropped to the gravel, choking
for breath.  "You ambushed me at that crazy woman's mission
outside Yellowstone.  I've lived for the day I could pay you
back."
     "That's enough!" the GMP leader snapped.  "Get her out of
here."
     The two other men hooked their hands under her armpits and
began to drag her up the alley, her feet sliding along the
gravel, leaving twin trails.

     Karen opened the back door of the bar and checked both
directions.  No stranger to using an outhouse, she only snorted
at the sight of the little facility.  Carrying a small bottle of
pre-war hard alcohol, she took another gulp and started for the
outhouse.  Her hand barely touched the toilet's tiny door knob
when she heard a noise further up the alley.  It sounded like
someone was being beaten.  
     At first, she tried to tell herself it was none of her
business.  After all, she had heard Bill Kidd's men prowled the
town.  Word had gotten around about what happened to Lieutenant
Bickham's men when they tangled with Kidd's thugs.  She had no
intention of getting involved in that sort of action.  
     "Get her on her feet!"
     That command, changed things as far as she was concerned. 
It was one thing to beat a man but something completely different
to do the same to a woman.
     Keeping to the grassy areas, she stealthily crept up the
alley towards the sounds of more beatings.  Whoever it was they
had caught, was getting the crap beat of her.
     Reaching the corner of the building, she paused to take a
deep breath before carefully peeking around the corner.  Three
men, dressed in black and gray jumpsuits, were in the process of
pulling a familiar-looking woman to her feet.  Blows rained down
on Ona Parino, augmented by repeated kicks, as the men tried to
get her to stand up.
     "We weren't told in what condition we had to bring you
back," one of the men growled.  "So we're going to teach you a
little lesson in respect for the GMP."
     He threw a vicious right cross that snapped Ona's head to
the side.  She staggered and collapsed again.  Karen could only
feel a cold satisfaction in watching a female Zentraedi take such
a beating.  It was payback time as far as she was concerned.  Let
them have her, she thought.  Good riddance. 
     She was about to turn and leave when one of the men said
something that caused her blood to run cold.
     "Damned if they weren't right.  She does look like Miriya
Parino."  The other men chuckled and made a couple of lewd
suggestions.  "You ever wanted to fuck a hero of the Zentraedi
War?  It's a long way back to Monument City.  We might just get a
little use out of this bitch."
     "Why wait for the trip back?" another GMP man said, the
sound of his jumpsuit zipper opening.  "What better place to
start with a piece of trash like her than in an alley."
     Karen pressed herself against the wall, her heart pounding. 
This wasn't right.  What they were talking about was rape;
continuous, vicious, and humiliating rape.  
     A nasty argument broke out in her head.  On one hand, she
was satisfied if the GMP hauled Parino off to Monument City. 
They might just keep her.  
     But that satisfying image dissolved at the reminder that Ona
Parino was a woman.  She might be a Zentraedi, she might even be
related to one of those animals in the Amazon, but she was also a
member of Fox Squadron.  
     Liz would go to her aid, she reminded herself.  Wasn't she
every bit as good as her friend?  If it was anybody other than
that disgusting Zentraedi,...
     Sounds of more blows, followed by the tearing of clothes,
and Karen pressed harder against the wall.  Interrogating every
argument she could think of for just returning to the bar and
pretending she saw nothing, the same response kept playing over
and over in her head.  She couldn't allow this to happen.  NO man
had the right to a woman's body.  Even the body of a despicable
Zentraedi female.
     The sound of a loud slap jolted Karen to action.  Taking
another long drink from her bottle to steel her nerves, she
sprinkled the rest over herself.  Mussing up her hair and
unbuttoning her blouse to where her lack of a bra was obvious,
she staggered out from behind the building.
     At first, the men didn't seem to notice her.  They were too
busy kicking and slapping Ona back to her feet.  One reached out
and ripped what remained of Ona's blouse from her body, leaving
her bare to the waist.  Karen staggered a little faster, trying
to get close enough to be seen before they became too occupied.
     "Well, what do we have here?" one of the men said with a
greasy leer.  "Looks like we got us a bonus."
     Karen tried to keep her eyes half closed, as if in a drunken
stupor, while she staggered towards the obvious leader.  She
needed to get close for this to work.
     Grabbed by the GMP leader, she sagged against his body.  One
of his hands roamed over her shapely backside while his other
roughly fondled her breast.
     "Just the way I like 'em."  His voice made her skin crawl. 
It was time to act.
     She leaned her head back a bit and smiled a dopy smile his
way.  "Y'all pretty," she said in a slurred voice, hoping her
phoney Ozark dialect would pass for real.  Holding up her almost
empty bottle, her eyes shifted to Ona and the other two men.
     Parino looked even worse close up.  One eye was swollen
shut, blood ran from the corner of her mouth.  She hunched over
slightly holding her ribs, her breasts resting on her arm.  In
her one good eye, Karen could see a burning hatred for her
situation.  That wasn't good.  Karen knew Zentraedi were
unpredictable.  If she didn't act pretty soon, Ona was liable to
blow the whole deal and get them both stunned.
     Nuzzling the GMP man's chest, she slowly ran her hand across
his butt.  It wasn't a bad butt, she concluded.  It was just
attached to a thoroughly disgusting man.
     When the other two men went back to pawing Parino, she saw
her chance.  Snatching the man's stunner from its holster, she
jammed it in his ribs and pressed the trigger button.  The man
yelped and went limp, almost pulling Karen down with him.  Off
balance, she saw the other two reaching for their weapons.  She
nailed the first, watching him jerk tight before collapsing in
the long grass, but couldn't draw a bead on the other.  Parino
was in the way.
     As if she could read Karen's mind, Ona leaned away enough to
kick the side of the man's knee.  Stunner drawn, he grabbed at
his leg as he fell.  That was all Karen needed.  A quick shot
from her own stunner and the fight was over.
     Tossing the weapon away, she started to run.  "COME ON,
STUPID!" she yelled.
     Ona took a hesitant step before her legs gave out.  She
couldn't run.  Cursing what she had to do, Karen doubled back and
reached for Ona.  Pulling the woman's free arm around her neck
for support, she could see Parino staring at her in astonishment. 
That made the rescue even more bizarre.
 "There may be more.  We gotta get out of here."
     Half-dragging the injured and partially dressed Zentraedi
towards the street, she paused to look both ways.  The coast was
clear.  No time to get the others.  She knew the GMP worked in
packs of five.  That left two unaccounted for.  If they heard the
commotion, it was only a matter of seconds before they'd arrive.
     Hobbling to one of the rovers, she shoved Ona into the back
end and jumped into the seat.  Keys, she had no keys.  Yanking
out from under the dash a bundle of wires, she squinted in the
dim light to identify the right ones - between frantic looks
around for the rest of the GMP pack.
     It took only a few seconds to find the wires she wanted and
twist them together.  Stomping on the starter, she was rewarded
by the engine roaring to life.  Slamming the gears into reverse,
she pressed the accelerator to the floor.
     With wheels squealing, the rover roared out into the street,
spun around and sped out of town through a cloud that smelled of
burnt rubber.  Only the shouts of unseen men told her their
escape hadn't gone unseen.  Hopefully, those who noticed weren't
GMP men.

     "What the hell was that?" Daisy yelled from the bar's back
room.
     "Someone just stole our rover!" Nancy shouted back.
     Liz was the first to the front door.  Slamming it open, she
felt the sickening thud of it hitting another body.  She looked
back as she ran for the street and saw a prostrate form in a
black and gray jumpsuit.  GMP?  Here?  What could they...?
     She almost stumbled at her own answer; Ona Parino.  They had
to be after Captain Parino.
     Jumping into the driver's seat of the remaining rover, she
discovered she didn't have a key.
     "Daisy!  Where's the key?"
     The big Lakota exploded through the bar room door, slamming
it into another black and gray clad man who had made the mistake
of bending over his stricken partner.  As his body flew into the
street, Daisy jumped over the rover's hood and dropped into the
barely vacated driver's seat.  Starting the vehicle, she yelled
for Nancy.
     There might have been many things that could have been said
about the GMP man on the sidewalk but good timing wasn't one of
them.  He had barely had time to sit up, grasping his head in his
hands, when Nancy came barreling out the door, smashing his face
and knocking him cold.
     "Come on, Bobbi Jo!" Nancy yelled, jumping into the front
seat.

     Inside, Bobbi Jo Baker quietly counted her winnings.  "Sorry
boys, but duty calls.  We have to do this again sometime." 
Smiling sweetly at the chest-fallen men, she walked to the door,
making certain her every step was the thing men dream about.
     On of the men groaned softly.  "Ah don't care what y'all
say.  Watchin' her walk like that was worth every credit I lost."
He was immediately deluged with playing cards and insults from
those who obviously failed to see his form of 'silver lining' in
their cash losses.
     Stepping through the front door, she paused when one of the
GMP men shakily climbed back onto the elevated sidewalk.
     "Y'all look like a houn' dog who tangled with a skunk," she
said with a sassy expression.  "Perhaps y'all better call it a
night and go home."
     "Come on, Bobbi Jo!  They're getting away!" Nancy called
from the rover.
     "Gotta leave now, sugar.  Y'all take care now, ya hear?" 
With another sweet hill folk smile, she smartly kicked the man in
his teeth and daintily walked to the rover.
     "What were you doing in there?" Nancy demanded.
     "Gathering information."
     "What did ya get?" Daisy asked as she put the rover into
reverse.
     "Lots."  Bobbi Jo patted her bulging pocket.
     "All right, Tonto.  Let's ride."  Nancy pounded on the side
of the rover.
     "Yes, Kimosabe," Daisy replied, gunning the engine.
     With squealing tires and a couple of war whoops, the
remaining RDF rover raced out of town in pursuit of their fleeing
vehicle.

     Ona continued to stare at her benefactor as they bounced
along the rutted and patched main road out of town.  She still
didn't understand why Karen rescued her.
     "There's a blanket under the seat.  Cover yourself," Karen
said in a flat voice.
     Retrieving the blanket, Ona again regarded Karen with a
curious stare.  There had to be a reason the woman rescued her. 
"Why?" she asked.
     Karen's reply came with her stomping on the brakes with both
feet.  The rover skidded to a halt a few yards short of the base
road.  "Get out," she hissed at Ona without looking.  Her jaw
trembled as she continued to stare straight ahead.  Her glassy
expression barely concealed her inner turmoil.  "GET OUT!"
     Silently, Ona stepped out of the rover and pulled the
blanket around her shoulders.  Even when the rover sped off,
showering her with loose gravel she remained silent.  A moment
later, Karen and the rover vanished into the darkness.
     Ona was still staring at the spot where the rover
disappeared when the second rover with Daisy, Nancy, and Bobbi Jo
roared up, slamming on its brakes in time to stop next to her on
the road.
     "What happened to you?" Nancy called.  "Did Karen do that?"
     Grimacing at the pain, Ona shook her head.  "No, GMP."
     "So that's what's going on," Daisy said, her disgust at the
mention of the ASC's Military Intelligence and Security arm
clearly visible.
     "Bastards," Bobbi Jo grumbled as she climbed out of the
rover.  Snapping on a flashlight, she examined Ona's obvious
injuries.  "We better get you to Sick Bay."
     "We can't just let Karen run off like this," Daisy
protested.  "There's no telling what she might do."
     "Agreed," Liz said, tightening her grip on the roll bar. 
"I'll go.  She trusts me."
     "You can't go alone," Nancy insisted.  "We're all
responsible for each other.  Despite her problems, she's still
one of us."
     Liz sighed before nodding.  "Very well.  DW, you help Bobbi
Jo get Ona back to base.  Nancy and I will go look for Casey."
     The rover bobbed as Daisy climbed out.  "Be careful," she
warned.
     Without a reply, Liz climbed behind the wheel and put the
rover in gear.  She revved the engine a couple of times before
pulling away from the three squadronmates.  In a few moments, the
rover's lights disappeared in the darkness.

     "You check the right and I'll take the left," Liz shouted
over the road and engine sounds as they drove slowly along the
pitted road.  The dam was somewhere up ahead.  With the road over
it gone due to the dam's partial collapse, Karen wouldn't be able
to go far.
     "There's lots of places she could turn off," Nancy noted.
     "She won't turn off the main road."
     "How do you know?"
     "I don't think she's trying to hide.  She's probably too
upset for that.  She'll drive straight ahead until she can't
drive any more.  We'll catch up with her somewhere between here
and the dam."  Liz hoped she was right.  If Karen did the
unexpected, she could have turned off anywhere and be gone - at
least for the evening.
     "We could call up the Alert Team to do a thermal scan,"
Nancy offered.  "That way we'd be sure."
     Liz shook her head.  "I don't want to get anyone else
involved."  She glanced at Nancy and saw she understood.  "Don't
worry.  We'll find her."
     They drove for what seemed like miles before the missing
rover's taillights appeared off the left side of the road. 
Slowly pulling in behind it, Nancy jumped out and ran to the
vehicle.
     "It's still running," she announced before looking around.
     "Drive it back to base," Liz said, shutting off her own
rover.  "I'll go look for Casey."
     "Alone?"
     "I'm the only one that can get close enough to talk to her." 
Liz climbed out of the rover.  "I know you're the better tracker
but finding her is only half the problem.  There's no telling
what she'll do then.  I don't think she'll hurt me."
     "I'm glad you think so," Nancy said, obviously uncertain of
her squadronmate's assessment.
     "I'll be fine.  You go back and see if someone can fix her
'hot-wiring' job before the Colonel finds out."  Looking towards
the thick undergrowth just off the road, she nodded slightly. 
"I'll bring her back."
     Without waiting for Nancy to object again, Liz set off into
the brush and trees.  She barely heard Nancy's final 'good luck.'
     Tracking in daylight is tough enough, even for someone
experienced.  Following a trail at night was the stuff only the
best could do.  Fortunately, Karen didn't appear to be interested
in hiding her trail.  Broken branches, the occasional footprint
in soft soil, and a full moon made the job surprisingly easy.
     Liz slid through the woods, making as little noise as
possible until the undergrowth abruptly gave way to open land. 
She paused to listen before emerging from the woods.
     Sloping gently downward from its former shoreline, the
ground ahead was covered in knee-high grass and dotted with
bushes and small trees.  Nearby, a small creature scurried away,
interrupted in its nightly search for food.  A fresh breeze blew
up the lake, causing little lake surface to glitter in the
moonlight.
     Carefully scanning the open area nearer the lake, she
spotted her distraught friend.  Sitting on a formerly submerged
tree trunk down where the grasses gave way to bare dirt and
patches of moss, Karen Crowkiller was hunched over, holding her
head in her hands.  With a silent sigh, more of relief than
exasperation, Liz cautiously stalked closer.
     While still twenty feet away, she could tell Karen had been
crying.  The way her body moved with every breath suggested she
was reduced to taking great gulps of air between sobs.  Still,
that didn't make her any less dangerous.
     "Go away!" Karen yelled without looking, her voice echoing
across the lake.
     "I can't do that, Casey.  We have to go back."
     "I'm not going back!"
     "You'll be AWOL.  They'll arrest you."
     "I don't care!" Karen screamed, her hands clutching her head
in a vise-like grip.
     "What's wrong, Casey?  You can tell me.  Why did you rescue
Ona?"  Liz chanced to move closer to the sobbing Karen.  By all
appearances, she looked beaten and ready for consoling.
     Almost close enough to reach out and touch her friend, Liz
suddenly caught a glint of moonlight on polished metal.  Leaping
back, she avoided being sliced when Karen sprang from her seat,
swinging a vicious-looking knife.  Another attack and she barely
had time to jump again as the knife point tore through her shirt
just under her breasts.  Two additional swipes, more clumsy than
the first, and Liz was able to separate enough from her attacker
to gather herself into a fighting stance.
     "You know I'm the better knife fighter, Casey."  Liz
balanced herself in preparation.  She knew that at her best,
Karen was almost as good and in a one-sided knife fight, anything
could happen.
     "Then kill me," Karen growled.  Holding her weapon like a
veteran, she suddenly lunged, the knife aimed at her quarry's
midsection.
     Liz slapped Karen's knife hand and bound her attacker's arm
with her own.  A hand to the jaw and a properly placed leg later,
Karen lay unarmed, face down in the dirt with a gasping Liz on
her back.
     To her surprise, instead of fighting back, Karen just
started to cry again.  "Why can't you just let me die?" Karen
screamed into the dirt.  "Why can't you let me join him?"
     Liz swallowed hard and blinked back sweat from her eyes. 
"Who, Casey?" she demanded.  "Who do you want to join?"
     "Stephen."  Karen's voice was barely a whisper.
     "Who's Stephen?" Liz asked forcefully, pinning Karen's arm
behind her back and sitting up.  She wasn't taking any more
chances with the unpredictable Crowkiller.
     "My fiance," Karen whined, her face pressed against the
moistening ground.
     "A pilot?"  Liz tried not to sound like an interrogator but
things had progressed to the point where she didn't care anymore.
     "Excaliber pilot."  Karen's voice sounded stronger, despite
its continued cracking between shudders.
     "Maybe you better tell me what happened, Casey."
     When Karen shook her head and resumed crying, Liz lost her
patience.  Pressing down on the girl's pinned arm, she shoved her
lower arm further up her back.  The resulting jolt of pain seem
to do the trick.
     Karen screamed and clawed at the moss-covered earth with her
free hand.
     "Tell me, Casey!"
     "Please... no."  Karen's voice trailed off in another round
of sobs.  
     "We're not leaving this spot until you tell me what
happened," Liz demanded, adding more pressure to her friend's
abused arm.  
     "I can't," Karen cried.
     Frustrated, Liz growled and rolled Karen over on her back.
Pinning her arms above her head, Liz leaned in close. "Dammit,
you're going to tell me what happened if I have to beat it out of
you."
     Between sobs, Karen finally agreed.  Haltingly, she told the
whole story - the patrol, the ambush, the jamming, and especially
her attempt to rescue the one she loved.  "I heard the targeting
computer lock on.  I had the shot.  But instead of shooting, I
looked up one more time.  I wanted to see if he'd gotten out of
his Destroid."  She blubbered again as her story concluded and
squeezed her eyes shut as if to block out the scene that had
replayed itself in her mind's eye over and over again, every
night since that hot, steamy day in the Amazon.  "If I'd only
shot first...," she wailed.
     "You choked?" Liz gasped as if she didn't believe what she
just heard.
     "I could have saved him," Karen moaned.  
     "You choked and now blame Ona Parino?"
     "She's one of them."  Karen's voice dropped into almost a
growl.
     "She's one of US!" Liz corrected.
     "But –"
     "NO BUTS!"  Liz leaned closer.  "You know better than this.
There are only two rules to warfare.  One, people die.  Two, you
can't do a damn thing about rule one.  You want to morn?  Fine! 
Cut your hair off, slice your skin, sit in the middle of a field
and scream your head off if you want but don't you dare tear this
squadron apart because YOU screwed up."
     "I could have stopped them," Karen whined as she started
crying again.
     "NO!" Liz screamed in her face.  "He was a soldier who took
a soldier's chance.  He lost and paid with his life.  That's the
job we do, Casey.  We kill people and break things.  Accept it!"
     Liz felt Karen's body go limp as her sobbing grew.  Since
that day in South America, Karen had refused to face the truth
about her fiancé's death.  No matter what she did or didn't do,
he was probably already dead when she fell into the jungle. 
Being able to shoot would have only shortened her own life.
     Seeing Karen's knife in the grass, Liz reached for it with a
sense of finality.  Whatever Karen did now was out of her hands. 
So it wasn't with fear that she gave the knife back to its owner. 
She knew now that Karen was no threat.  She needed to greave,
something she had denied herself until now.
     Liz went to gather some dry wood, leaving Karen alone on the
beach.  When she got back, her friend was sitting up and staring
at the moon hanging low on the horizon.
     Building a small fire, Liz crouched in its warm refuge and
watched as Karen used the knife on her long hair.  Hacking off
handfuls at a time, Karen went through the motions in a
mechanical way.  By the time her hair had been cut short, she sat
surrounded by a moat of her dark tresses.
     Liz made no effort in intervene.  This was the traditional
way of mourning.  If she stuck to the old ways, she would not
take her own life with the blade.  At least, that's what Liz
hoped.
     Crouching next to the fire, she watched as Karen, knife in
her fist, drew a deep breath and screamed as hard as she could. 
Her voice echoed from the far shore as if answering her.  Over
and over again, she let loose a deep, primal scream, each one
punctuated with sobs that bubbled up from her tortured soul.
     Raising an arm, she ran the razor-sharp knife tip up the
outside of her forearm, leaving a trail of blood behind.  Several
times she called Stephen's name between screams, calling the
spirit of her dead fiance.  More cuts followed.  Each time on
another part of her arm.  Her blood rolled freely to her elbow
before falling to the parched earth where it pooled and
disappeared into the ground.
     Through it all, Liz remained by the small fire, neither
feeding it nor encouraging its demise.  Her contribution to
Karen's mourning was to witness the act and prevent it from going
too far.  Her shaman training spurred her to begin chanting the
words of prayer her grandmother taught her so long ago.
     An hour passed and Karen's screams had reduced to little
more than hoarse cries between long pauses for deep gasps for
air.  Her arms, now covered in her own blood, hung limp at her
side.  Now was the time to release both Stephen's spirit and
Karen's tortured soul.
     Without a word, Liz got up and walked to her exhausted
friend.  With great effort, Karen raised the knife and held it
out for Liz to take.  To show her mutual grief for Karen's loss,
Liz took the knife, held it up to the moon.  "I do this in honor
of a brave warrior," she said in a loud voice before cutting once
her own arm.  "It is better to die young on the battlefield than
to live to carry a cane."
     Karen fumbled to pull out her dog tags, her bloody arms
leaving red trails across her shirt, and snapped the chain. 
Between her tags was a small diamond ring, the one Stephen had
given her only days before his death.  Sliding it off the chain,
she handed it to Liz, her bloody fingers staining its metallic
surface red.  "I have no other possession of value," Karen said
in a shaky voice.  "Take it.  It is no longer mine."
     Liz gently took the ring from her friend and held it tight
in a fist.  All the proprieties of proper mourning had been
completed.  There was only one thing left to do.
     "You have mourned enough for the spirit of your departed
love.  It is time you began to live again," she said.  "Return to
your duties.  Comfort yourself in your tasks.  His spirit now
travels the spirit trail to the land of many lodges.  Hihankara,
the Owl Maker, will not push his spirit from the trail.  Tate,
the Wind, and Skan, the Sky, will not halt his journey or deny
him passage.  If you walk in the light once more, his spirit will
rejoice and wait lovingly for your arms."
     Liz knew that last warning would prevent Karen from harming
herself or intentionally causing herself harm.  It would also put
upon her the responsibility of righting whatever wrongs she had
wrought.  For only one who was pure of heart could hope to join a
loved one in the great beyond.
     Helping Karen to her feet, she walked the girl over to the
barely glowing embers.  There was one task left to do.  
     Taking a small amount of ash in her hand, she gently rubbed
it across her friend's face until her skin was almost black.
     "Let all who see this know the fire in your heart no longer
burns.  Speak no more of it and it will no longer haunt your
dreams."
     Karen nodded her agreement and allowed herself to be led
back into the woods towards the remaining rover.  Liz would bind
her wounds and see she got back to base.  No one would question
her condition or her makeup.  Those that knew the custom,
understood what she had endured and what it meant.
     The scars on her arms would fade with time but there would
always be gentle reminders there.  Just as there would always be
the fond memory of Stephen.  She was ready to move on now.  Ready
to accept the world as it was.

*****

     Liz tumbled into bed, exhausted and ready for sleep.  Doctor
Takahashi had scolded her for allowing Karen to mutilate herself. 
As the doctor attended to the cuts, she kept up a barrage of
questions and declarations about 'primitive societies' and how
they had to adapt to the modern world.  Through it all, Karen
refused to even look at the doctor, instead turning her head and
staring off to the side.  The doctor's words meant nothing to
her.  There was no way an outsider could understand.
     All Liz wanted now was a good night's sleep.
     "Looks like somebody had a rough night at the bar," Missy
said as she entered the bedroom.  "Drink too much again?"
     "Didn't drink enough," Liz replied, rubbing her face on the
pillow.
     Missy peeled out of her flight suit.  "I'm taking a shower. 
Think our roommate will be having any more nightmares?"
     "No."
     "You sound awfully sure about that."  Missy shook out her
flight suit and hung it in her closet.
     "Yup."
     Missy paused holding a towel draped over her arms in front
of her.  "You're not going to tell me why, are you?"
     "A fire can burn so long it consumes everything.  Sometimes
the fire burns itself out when there is nothing left to burn,"
Liz mumbled as she nuzzled her pillow for a more comfortable
position.
     Only partially understanding what Liz meant, Missy turned
towards the door.
     "And, yes, you were right," Liz said.  "There is a reason
for each of us being here."
     Missy paused in the doorway before switching off the light. 
"Your grandmother would be proud."
     Liz doubted that.  To her grandmother, she would always be
the failure who ran away to become a warrior.  Nothing would ever
change that.
     She lay quietly in the semi-darkness of her room and stared
at the tiny diamond ring she held between her fingers.  The world
of yesterday was gone.  Yet it still had ways of reaching forward
and touching each of them.  Perhaps Missy was right when she said
there was some kind of guiding force to their lives.  Liz
wondered if her own shaman training was for a purpose she didn't
yet understand.
     "Whatever," she mumbled with a yawn.  Figuring it all out
would have to wait for another time.  Tonight, she was just too
damn tired.