FOX Squadron
                        Episode 2 - Pink
                        By G.L. Sandborn




     Morning comes early on an airbase.  It comes even earlier
for those in command.  Promptly at 0700, Colonel Jeff Stuart
pulled up to an improvised parking space in front of his new
squadron's headquarters.  His headlights caught on a pair of
familiar figures waiting patiently in front of the building.
     "Good morning, sir," the two said together, adding sharp,
parade-ground salutes.  
     Jeff got out of his Land Rover and waved an informal
acknowledgment as he passed them on the steps.  He had little
time for formalities.  There was too much work to do.  He was
still short twenty-three pilots, a whole squadron staff, vital
equipment, and, of course, Veritechs.  He was in no mood for
delays.
     The two women followed him inside and waited patiently for
instructions.
     "Captain, you start on the Executive Officer's office," he
said while taking off his jacket.  "I want it functional before
noon.  Got it?"
     Ona Parino looked between her companion and Jeff before
grudgingly nodding and disappearing back towards the small office
in the center of the back wall.
     "As for you."  Jeff turned to Cindy Wallace.  "I guess
you're my new Admin Officer.  Set up a filing system, familiarize
yourself with the computers, and get me a list of things we
need."  He looked around the room.  "Maybe it would be easier to
get me a list of the items we *do* have.  We'll work backwards
from there."
     Cindy eagerly launched into her work.  Like a kid turned
loose in a toy store, she began digging through boxes and sorting
their contents.  Before stepping into his own office, Jeff smiled
at her industriousness.  Maybe General Emerson had done him a
favor after all.
     Turning to his own office, he sighed at the mess before him.
Boxes were stacked everywhere, covered by a thin layer of dust. 
It had obviously been a long time since they'd been left here. 
He crossed the aging wooden floor, listening to the worn boards
creak and groan under his weight.  He just hoped they didn't
collapse before he reached his desk.  
     He paused to look out the window behind his desk.  It wasn't
much of a view.  Way off in the distance, he could just make out
the control tower and the hangars of the other squadrons based at
Yellowstone.  A small shack set back from the concrete parking
area must be the Day Room for pilots, he thought.  It too looked
in need of repairs.  Just another building to get ready.
     An hour of cleaning and sorting and cursing at the mis-marked 
boxes, he finally had a room that looked like a functioning commander's 
office.  He had to open the window to the early morning sun when the 
dust he'd stirred up became too much.  A sudden rush of air overhead 
caused him to flinch.
     "I found the ventilation blowers, sir," came Cindy's voice
from the main room.
     "So I see," Jeff muttered as he closed the window again to
allow the blowers to filter out the dust.  At least this building
came equipped with the standard maintenance features.  If
everything worked, it would reduce the number of personnel he
needed - especially cleaning staff.
     Turning back around, he was surprised to see Cindy standing
in the doorway.
     "There's someone here to see you, sir," she said in an
official voice.
     "Pilots?" he asked anxiously.  The base Personnel Office had
assured him they would put out the word and scour the records to
find him pilots.  Perhaps they'd been successful.
     Cindy shrugged and tried to look contrite over her mistake
at not inquiring further from their visitors.
     He reached for his uniform tunic and followed Cindy back out
to the main room.  His pace faltered when he saw what was waiting
for him.  Two young women, both with the distinctive dark tanned
skin, almond-shaped eyes and almost coal-black hair that reminded
him of his wife's people, stood expectantly just inside the front
door.
     The taller of the two wore on her dress uniform the wings of
an Instructor Pilot, a position in the RDF awarded to only those
who possessed infinite patience and exceptional skills.  She
looked like a woman totally in control of herself and her
environment.  In addition to that, Jeff had to admit, she was a
most attractive woman.
     Her companion was a smaller duplicate of herself.  Only a
couple of inches shorter, she looked younger, more serious, and
less comfortable being in a strange squadron's headquarters.
     "I'm Colonel Stuart," Jeff said trying to sound official and
friendly at the same time.  These two couldn't be Veritech
pilots.  Perhaps they were looking for regular piloting jobs.
     "I'm Captain Katherine Fox, sir," the taller of the two said
while adding a crisp salute.  
     "Lieutenant Samantha Fox," the other echoed.
     Jeff waited for the old joke that ended with: 'No relation'
but quickly got the feeling the joke was on him.  "To what do I
owe the pleasure of this visit?"  Much to his own surprise, his
voice was unexpectedly forceful, like a person in a hurry.  He
told himself to slow down.  They at least deserved a fair
hearing.
     "Major Vera at RDF Flight Personnel Office recommended we
come talk to you, sir."  The taller of the two continued to look
like someone haggling over a used car instead of begging for a
transfer.  "He said you are in charge of forming a new squadron. 
We'd like to transfer."
     Jeff looked over at Cindy sitting in front of her computer,
staring at it with droopy eyes, her chin supported by a fist.  If
she knew anything about this particular pair of applicants, she
wasn't talking.  
     He didn't really have time for this.  They couldn't be the
kind of pilots he was looking for.  He figured it was best to
break the bad news quickly and get back to work.  "I need
Veritech pilots.  I'm very --"  
     His reply was interrupted by Cindy clearing her throat and
holding a clipboard his direction.  She continued to stare at her
screen with a bored expression.
     Accepting the clipboard, he noticed it contained a duty
roster with blank slots for all the flights and pilots assigned. 
He grimaced at the reminder.  "Why don't we continue this in my
office," he said to the pair while indicating the direction with
an open hand.
     The two pilots nodded their agreement and filed past him,
outstretched arm and all.  He couldn't be sure but thought he
caught a whiff of perfume from one of them.  But that was
impossible.  Perfume and other such items of femininity were
prohibited in the RDF.  At least, he thought they were.
     He turned to Cindy.  "Subtle, you're not," he groused.
     "Just thought you needed a reminder, sir."
     Jeff sighed.  "Which I appreciate.  I just wish --"
     "-- they weren't women?" Cindy cut in, finishing for him
without taking her eyes off the computer screen.
     "Well, yes."
     "Women have fought and died in the Zentraedi War along side
of their male counterparts.  Some have even been decorated for
bravery."
     "Not as Veritech pilots," Jeff said with an exasperated
gesture.  "I'm not sure just how far out on that limb I want to
climb."
     "We might just surprise you," Cindy said, a faint flicker of
a smile crossing her face.
     Jeff looked at his open office door.  "If they only didn't
look so much like my wife."
     He turned back in time to see Cindy staring at him.  "I am
woman, hear me roar," she said without expression.
     With another sigh of resignation, he handed the clipboard
back.  "Hold all my --"
     "-- calls --"
     "-- and don't forget --"
     "-- about the list of needed supplies.  Yes, sir."  Cindy
went back to staring at her screen.
     Curious at what she was finding so interesting, he leaned
over far enough to see the display.  It looked like some sort of
spread sheet with lots and lots of part numbers and quantities. 
Figuring it had something to do with her Admin duties, he shook
his head and started for his office.
     He took only two steps.  "Oh, I almost forgot.  I need --"
     "Top drawer, file cabinet 'C', look under 'Transfers',"
Cindy finished for him.
     "How do you --"
     "-- know what you're going to ask?" she said without looking
his way.  "It's a girl thing, sir."
     Jeff tried to match this to his strictly male background but
got the feeling he was fitting a square peg in a round hole -- so
to speak.  There simply had to be another explanation.  With
narrowed eyes he leaned towards his Admin Officer.  "What am I
thinking now?"
     "They're pink, sir," Cindy replied in an off-hand manner,
still staring at the terminal.
     "What?"  Jeff's body recoiled like he'd just gotten caught
peeking in the female showers at the gym.
     "My panties, sir.  They're pink."  Cindy regarded him with a
strange expression.  "At least, that's what you were wondering."
     They blinked at each other for several seconds.
     "You want to know the cut?" she asked innocently.
     Jeff continued to blink.  "Not on a dare."
     "Suit yourself, sir," she said, going back to staring at her
screen.
     Jeff started towards the row of file cabinets, never taking
his eyes off Cindy.  "So, the Transfer Forms are in the pink, I
MEAN, the... uh..."  Jeff stopped walking as his mind went blank
trying to avoid thinking of his young Admin Officer's underwear.
     "They're in 'C' cabinet, top drawer, sir," she reminded him.
     He quickly got the forms and started for his office.  This
was all too... strange.  The only woman who he ever thought could
read his mind was his wife.  How on earth did this girl know what
he was thinking?  He paused at his office door and regarded Cindy
with suspicion.  For the first time, he seemed to notice how she
was dressed.  He especially noticed her crisply laundered uniform
blouse with its sewn-on name tag and shoulder epaulet loops
bearing her rank insignia.  His eyes narrowed again.  There had
to be some trick to what she was doing.
     "No sir.  I never wear a bra," she said with a sigh, like it
was a question she'd been asked a thousand times.  "Don't need
one."
     With a tiny, choked groan of distress, he scrambled into his
office and slammed shut the door.  THIS he didn't need.  Either
she was the most perceptive person in the world or...  He took a
deep breath and let it out slowly.  He wasn't prepared for this.
     "Oh," he said softly, after turning around and noticing the
two pilots sitting in front of his desk.  He'd almost forgotten
about them.  Clearing his throat, he tried to regain his command
bearing.  It wasn't easy.  He first had to clear from his mind
the image of his attractive young Admin Officer clad only in a
pair of skimpy pink panties.
     "Is there something wrong, sir?" Samantha Fox asked with a
concerned look.
     "No, why do you ask?"  Jeff fought to hide his befuddlement
with a neutral expression.  It obviously didn't work.  The two
women exchanged worried looks before turning back around to face
his desk.
     Thankful for the chance to compose himself, Jeff adjusted
his tunic before moving to his side of the desk.  He kept telling
himself he was a twenty-year veteran who has served with dozens
of women in his office staff without this sort of... anomaly.  He
shouldn't let Lieutenant Wallace get to him like that.  Besides,
such thoughts were unprofessional and not conducive to a military
environment.
     It almost worked.  That is, until he sat down and caught a
glimpse of two pairs of shapely legs clad in RDF-approved nylons,
crossed in a delightfully relaxed manner.  More images flashed
through his mind, causing him to close his eyes and tug at his
collar.  "Does it seem warm in here to you?" he asked.  "Maybe I
should open a window or something."
     The two women exchanged looks again.  "It's just fine, sir,"
Katherine said with a concerned frown.  "Are you okay?  I mean,
we could come back later if you're not feeling well."
     "Nonono, that's fine," he said nervously before being able
to clear his mind and concentrating on the task at hand.  "As I
said out there, I need Veritech pilots."
     Katherine smiled.  She had a smile that could melt steel. 
"Then you're in luck.  We're Veritech pilots."
     Stunned, his eyes darted between the two women.  Veritech
pilots?  Female Veritech pilots?  Like someone opened a door to a
new room of opportunity, a solution to his dilemma presented
itself.  Why didn't he think of this before?  All he needed was
twenty-three female Veritech pilots and he had a full squadron. 
Then all he had to do was hand them off to another commander who
would lead them into...
     All expression drained from his face.  He'd already been
where this squadron was headed.  Under another commander, they
were going into a brutal combat environment where it was kill or
be killed.  Casualties were expected; real body-bag, forensic ID,
when you could recover the body, writing those damn letters
casualties.  This time, they would be *female* bodies.  
     No, he couldn't allow that.  He couldn't take young
inexperienced ladies and subject them to the brutality of peace-
keeping along the borders of several notably un-peaceful groups
of people.  It didn't matter how good they were at flying,
combat, especially the occasional close-combat experienced along
the border, was an entirely different matter.  He began to shake
his head.
     "I'm sorry.  I just can't do this to you."  He rocked back
in his chair, sighed and stared at the ceiling.  "This squadron
is scheduled for assignment in the Ozarks.  It's expected to be a
pretty rough tour."
     Jeff hardly noticed the silence that followed.  His mind was
far away, twenty-seven years in the past on what was left of a
smoking airfield in Hawaii, littered with the dead and dying. 
No, he couldn't go through that again.
     "Are you sure his wife said he was desperate?" Samantha
asked, her voice tinged with bitterness.
     "Shut Up!" her sister hissed sharply.
     Jeff rocked forward.  "What?  What about my wife?"
     The two women traded embarrassed looks before Katherine
sighed.  "You might as well know the truth, sir.  We didn't just
happen on this assignment and we didn't go see Major Vera quite
the way we described.  You see, your wife called us last night."
     "Kay called you?  Why?"
     "It was after you told her about your new assignment.  She
said you were in over your head and desperate for Veritech
pilots.  She knew my background and, well, I brought my sister
along because she's pretty good too."  Katherine folded her hands
in her lap and kept her eyes on the floor.  "Please don't be
angry, sir.  She was just trying to help."
     Jeff frowned at the pair as he recalled his wife's reaction
to the news of his new command.  She'd made him a special dinner,
the same thing she did every time the base 'grape-vine' got the
news to her before he could, and then waited patiently for him to
go into a long-winded explanation of the reasons for, and details
of, the new assignment.  He always made it sound like he was the
luckiest guy in the world.  A painful smile almost escaped when
he recalled how he always told her that 'this assignment would
guarantee he makes Colonel'.  Sad how that little 'joke' became a
reality.  A reality that was truly a sick joke.  Colonel was as
high as he was ever going to get in the RDF.  He stayed with the
squadrons too long, flew too many missions, and failed to
cultivate the right friends to assure his promotion.  After
twenty years, all he was certain of was NO ONE would ever call
him: 'General Stuart'.
     After dinner, she excused herself, saying something about
making a few phone calls.  Her father needed to be told they
weren't coming home as expected.  He just assumed the other calls
she made were to relatives and such.
     Lowering his eyes, he fixed them firmly on Katherine.  "This
may sound strange, but why would she call you?"
     "We're kind of related, your wife and I."
     "You're Lakota?"  Of course they were, he admonished
himself.  He had suspected it all along.  Their presence at this
base was the result of that damned RDF policy of stationing
people close to their homes.  RDF Yellowstone was the nearest
base to the Black Hills and the Pine Ridge Reservation.  Their
appearance now made complete sense.
     "Yes, sir.  You see, your wife's step-brother was our aunt's
half-cousin."
     Frowning, Jeff tried to piece together such a crooked family
tree.  For some reason, he kept coming up with Captain Fox being
his wife's twice-removed cousin - or something like that.  It
just didn't add up until he remembered something his wife had
said about tribal relations.  "Big deal.  Everyone on a
reservation is somebody's cousin.  They've been intermarrying for
generations."
     "Just one big happy family," Samantha said with a blank
expression.
     Jeff hesitated before shaking his head again.  "Be that as
it may, it'll never work.  I need combat pilots.  This isn't a
place for beginners.  They play rough down on the frontier."
     Katherine leaned forward, holding out her service record. 
"Sir, I've been waiting ten years for a chance to prove myself. 
I've done everything asked of me, endured countless rejections of
my transfer requests, and trained hard for this opportunity.  All
I'm asking for is the chance to prove what I can do.  I deserve
this."  Her burning eyes confronted Jeff's with a firm resolve. 
"I don't fear dying, if that's what's bothering you," she said
flatly.  "You should know by now that none of our people fear the
afterlife."
     Jeff bristled.  "I'm not concerned with your courage OR your
fatalistic view of life and death.  Where this squadron is going
is no place for inexperienced Veritech pilots."  He snatched
Katherine's service record from her hand and slammed it on his
desk.  Matching her firm expression, he leaned forward and
pointed a finger her way.  "And you don't prove your courage by
dying."
     "Just look at our records and tell me you can find better,
more qualified combat Veritech pilots anywhere," Samantha said
holding out her own service record.
     A stand-off of sorts took place as the trio glared at each
other.  Jeff could have dismissed them out of hand and gotten on
with the difficult job of finding combat qualified Veritech
pilots.
     He might have done exactly that except for the nagging
memory of his timetable.  He needed pilots and he needed them
fast.  Whatever their skill level, he needed these two and lots
more like them.
     Besides, these were Lakota women, descendants of the finest
light cavalry in the world.  Perhaps their heritage would give
them an edge; an edge that just might give them a chance to
survive.
     Reluctantly, Jeff took her folder and began flipping through
the pages.  In silence, he picked up Katherine's and did the
same.  As much as he didn't want to admit it, these were two very
accomplished Veritech pilots.  
     Katherine graduated the RDF Academy near the top of her
class.  She was recommended for Veritech flight training by a
certain Colonel Rolf Emerson.  That alone spoke volumes about her
abilities.  Emerson didn't impress easily.  She rewarded that
trust by graduating at the top of her Veritech class.  That got
her an offer to stay at Yellowstone and train other pilots.  For
ten years she pushed Veritechs all over the sky, teaching student
after student how to get the most out of the deadly little
fighter.  But since recruits had recently dropped in both quality
and quantity, even the training school was being shut down. 
Young men no longer dreamed of flying Veritechs for the RDF. 
They preferred the more advanced craft of the ASC.
     Samantha was equally skilled, although she never had the
opportunities of her older sister.  Even after graduating second
in her flight training class, she was assigned to fly lumbering
transports delivering supplies to remote bases.  She continued to
pile up hours in the local simulators and got in the cockpit of a
Veritech at every opportunity.  She still only had half the hours
of Veritech time of her older sister but the hours she did have
were high quality.  The only way she and her sister could have
been better was if they'd been combat veterans.
     He idly fingered the two folders while trying to make up his
mind.  Would he turn them down and go back to square one or
accept their eager offers and risk another nightmare?
     A knock at the door delayed his decision.  Actually, it made
the decision for him.  When he called out for the person to
enter, Cindy came in with two clipboards.  Attached to them were
RDF transfer requests with the names of Katherine and Samantha
neatly typed in the proper spaces.
     "Just sign them both, sir.  I'll take care of the details,"
she said.
     Still uncomfortable about their earlier discussion, Jeff
avoided making eye contact with his Admin Officer.  His palms
were sweating as he signed both forms.  Handing the clipboards to
Cindy he said: "Get these processed --"
     "-- immediately and schedule the appropriate notifications. 
Yes, sir," Cindy said duplicating his every word before
disappearing back out to her desk.
     Jeff's fingers drummed on his desktop as he watched Cindy
leave.  There was something not right about that girl.  He just
couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was.  In any case, it
was obviously something he was just going to have to learn to
live with.
     Thoughts of Cindy naturally reminded him of another problem
he needed to resolve.
     "I see by your record, Captain Fox, that you are currently
serving as the Executive Officer of your squadron.  Would you be
interested in the job here?"
     "Are you sure, sir?  I mean, you hardly know me," she said
in faint protest.  
     Jeff kept turning pages in her service record and tried to
decide if she was just being modest or had genuine reservations
about the job.  He was sure they both knew the position involved
more paperwork than flying.  Still, he needed someone and
whenever possible, he liked to pick someone with experience.  In
any case, Ona Parino made it clear she had no interest in the job
and probably wouldn't do very well at it anyway.  He needed
someone with Katherine's experience.  "What's to know?  You're
family, remember?" he said without looking up.
     "Well, if you think I would be acceptable..."  Katherine was
demonstrating a curious reluctance.
     "Is there some reason I should not?"  He looked directly at
Captain Fox, his eyes demanding a response.
     "It's not that, sir."
     "Then what?"
     Katherine glanced at her sister before answering.  "With my
sister in the squadron, it might be... awkward."
     Jeff turned to the younger Fox sibling.  "You got a problem
with this?"
     Samantha never hesitated.  "No, sir.  I've been taking
orders from her all my life.  It won't be much different doing it
in the RDF," she said with a shrug.
     "Fine.  Then it's settled."  He leaned over to look out the
door.  "Cindy!"
     "I'll tell her, sir," came the young Admin Officer's voice.
     Jeff frowned towards the sound of Cindy's voice before
shaking his head.  No doubt about it, adjusting to his new Admin
Officer was going to take some doing.
     "Okay, you two get your stuff and move in.  Pick up your
requests from Cindy and deliver them to the Personnel Office." 
He shoved papers back into their folders and dropped them into
his 'OUT' box to be filed.  "Be back here tomorrow morning and
we'll finish getting this office in shape."
     The two stood, saluted.
     "Sir, I want to thank you --" Katherine began.
     "Stow it," Jeff growled in return.  "I haven't done you any
favors.  You're in for two of the worst years of your life.  I
only hope you're up to the challenge."
     "With all due respect, you're the first person who's
believed in us enough to give us a chance.  I..."  Katherine
glanced at her sister.  "We won't let you down, sir."
     Jeff sighed and waved them out of his office.  He
immediately began to wonder if he'd done the right thing.
"I just hope you live long enough to understand," he mumbled.

     Cindy softly knocked on the door to Executive Officer's
office.  There was no answer.  She knocked again, louder this
time.  "Captain?  Are you in there?"
     Hearing no reply, she pushed open the door and peeked
inside.  Captain Ona Parino was sitting in the chair behind the
desk, staring at the boxes before her.  As far as Cindy could
tell, the Zentraedi had done nothing but sit.
     "You okay?" Cindy asked, closing the door behind her and
leaning against it.
     Ona slowly looked up.  "I... I don't know where to start.  I
don't know..."  The blue-haired Amazon's voice trailed off. 
Cindy could feel her embarrassment.
     "Well, the good news is that the boss found someone to take
over the XO job."  Cindy tilted her head to better see her
roommate's reaction.
     "Really?" Ona asked expectantly.
     Cindy nodded and watched as Ona's eyes roamed over the
still-packed boxes in the office.  "I just couldn't do it," Ona
said.  "I really tried but..."
     "I know," Cindy said softly, pushing herself away from the
door.  "You're kinda out of your element here, aren't you?"
     Ona nodded like admitting such was the hardest thing she's
ever had to do.
     "Why don't I help."  Cindy opened a box on the desk.  "We'll
get it all fixed up for the new XO and no one will be the wiser."
     Cindy could feel the Zentraedi's eyes on her as she started
unpacking the box.  
     Ona made no move to help.  "Why are you doing this?" she
asked.
     "Because we have to stick together."  Cindy never paused her
unpacking as she talked.  "That's how squadrons bond with each
other, they stick together through good times and bad."  She
paused to look deeply into the Zentraedi's eyes.  "It's also
something friends do for each other."
     Ona blushed and turned her head to avoid the little blonde's
gaze.  "I don't know.  The last time I let someone get close..."
     Cindy slid around to Ona's side of the desk and leaned back
against its wood surface, her slender hand coming to rest on the
tall Zentraedi's shoulder.  "It's not always like that.  You can
be friends with people without being in love with them."  A slow
smile grew as she noticed Ona's nervous reaction.  "Besides, I
like guys."
     There was an awkward pause as Ona frowned and appeared to be
trying to figure something out.  "What's so special about...
guys?" she finally asked like she was embarrassed to ask such a
basic question.
     "Most of the time, nothing.  They're lazy, self-absorbed,
and usually have too high opinion of themselves.  But with the
right guy..."  Cindy hugged herself, her knees rubbing together. 
"It can be... magic," she said dreamily.
     "You've experienced this?"  Ona's expression was more that
of a curious child than a mature woman.  That could probably be
explained by her only close relationships being with other
Zentraedi females.  Males were as mysterious to her as an alien
species.
     "Well... not yet," Cindy finally admitted with an
embarrassed little smile.  "But there have been times I've gotten
close enough to know what it feels like."
     "Can you show me..."  Ona's voice departed her in a swirl of
confusing thoughts.  It was clear she didn't know exactly how to
phrase her feelings.
     Cindy patted Ona's shoulder.  "Of course, that's what
friends are for."  They looked deeply into each other's eyes. 
"Come on.  Let's get done in here before the 'old man' gets
wise."
     "Old man?" Ona asked.
     "It's just an expression we use for the squadron commander.
At one time, we 'micronians' used to hold those who'd lived a
long time in respect."  Cindy sighed.  "It was usually well
deserved.  Anyway, the squadron commander is always older than
the rest of us so we call him 'the old man'."
     "Strange custom."  Ona stood and opened another box.
     "Sometimes I miss those days.  Age and experience should
count for something."  She looked up and smiled at her friend. 
"Speaking of which, I've done a little checking on Colonel
Stuart."
     "Oh?"  Ona continued emptying her box like she was only
casually interested.  Cindy could tell her friend's interest was
much greater than she showed.
     "He's quite a character.  Probably seen more action than any
other squadron commander in the RDF.  It's a mystery why General
Hunter didn't take him on the SDF-3."
     "Maybe he isn't as good as you think."
     Cindy shook her head.  "I've talked to people who served in
his squadrons.  They think he walks on water."  She sighed and
shoved a bunch of binders onto an aging shelf.  "Those kinds of
officers are few and far between.  You gotta take good care of
them when you find 'em."
     "I think you're wasting your time," Ona mused.  "He's not
going to be in command when we go active.  I heard it from some
guys at the barracks last night.  He's only supposed to form the
squadron then turn it over to someone else."
     Cindy frowned and stopped digging around in her box.  "You
mean he's going through all this trouble and then just walking
away?" she asked incredulously.
     "Yeah.  Something to do with his retirement.  He really is
an 'old man' you know."  Ona looked in the box she was emptying. 
With a frown and a shrug, she opened the top drawer of the desk
and poured the contents inside and slammed the drawer shut.
     "But... I thought he wanted this job, cared for us."  Cindy
stopped digging altogether and actually took on the look of an
abandoned puppy.
     "I'm just telling you what I heard," Ona insisted.  "This is
his last assignment before retirement - whatever that is."
     "It's where you get old and they tell you to go away," Cindy
said absently as she tried to figure a way of keeping him in the
squadron.  "Don't Zentraedi ever retire?"
     "Don't know," Ona said with a shrug while dumping the
contents of another box in the same drawer.  This unpacking stuff
was easy.  "I never heard of a Zentraedi living that long."
     "This just isn't right."  Cindy shook her head.  "I've got
to think of some way to keep him here."

     Outside, Katherine and Samantha Fox sat alone in their aging
automobile, bathing in the euphoria of what they'd just
accomplished.
     "We did it," Samantha said softly.
     "Yes, we did," Katherine agreed.  She was finally getting
the chance she'd dreamed of; piloting a Veritech in an
operational squadron.  So why didn't she feel more elation?
     Samantha must have sensed her sister's apprehension. 
"What's the matter?  I thought this was what you wanted?"
     Katherine squirmed in her seat.  "It is.  I guess."
     "Then why the sour look?"  Samantha leaned forward to get a
better look at her sister's face.
     "It's what he said... about where this squadron is going,"
she lamented.  Turning to look purposefully into her sister's
eyes.  "Doesn't it bother you?"
     Samantha shrugged and settled back in the comfort of the
vehicle's imitation lamb's wool seat.  "I donno.  All I can think
about is how this will get me my eagle feather."
     "What?"  Katherine's incredulous gasp filled the car's
interior.  "You can't be serious."
     Samantha spun around as much as she could in the confining
space and glared at her sister.  "Kath we're the last of our
father's warrior line.  Our father earned his feather in the
Global Civil War.  Our grandfather won his in the war in Arabia. 
Our great-grandfather --"
     "I know, I know.  We're descendants of Pony-That-Walks, a
great war-chief of our people," Katherine grumbled, waving a hand
in front of her face.  "So what?  We're only women."
     "Only...!" Samantha gasped indignantly.  "What the hell are
you saying?  You sound like the Colonel.  I don't know about you
but I'm as good in a Veritech as ANY man and don't you forget
it!"
     "That's not what I mean."
     "Then what is it?"
     Katherine hesitated.  Fitting emotions into words was often
a struggle.  "I don't know.  It's just...  Why us?"
     Samantha's expression as she slumped deeper into the seat. 
Her scowl came complete with a pout.  "Because we're all father
has left."
     The interior of the car grew deathly silent.  Katherine knew
what her sister was talking about.  Their older brother, the only
male offspring, died when they were still young by getting drunk
one night with his friends, falling asleep in his truck and
driving into a water-filled ditch.  When they found him two days
later, he'd frozen to death.  She remembered how hard her father
took it.  Their brother was supposed to honor the family by
living the warrior life in the newly-formed RDF.  His death broke
a chain of history that stretched back beyond anyone's memory.
Neither of the girls could allow that.  So, when each of them
came of age, they enlisted in his place.
     "I have to earn that feather.  I can't go back and hold my
head up unless I do."  Samantha's voice was little more than a
hoarse whisper.  "You do what you want.  I'm staying."
     Katherine leaned over the steering wheel, her eyes closed. 
There was another reason she was hesitant.  "There's something
else.  I lied in there," she said.  "I'm really scared of... you
know."  She couldn't even bring herself to speak of her own
demise, like it could trigger an evil spirit that would bring
about exactly that.
     "I know.  Sometimes it worries me too... a little." 
Samantha crossed her arms and glared at the dashboard.  "But I
WILL make father proud and I WILL earn my feather."  
     A rumble of thunder off in the distance broke the silence in
the car.  Katherine struggled to face a multitude of terrifying
visions.  A cold gust of wind bathed the car and its occupants
causing her to shiver.  "I'm sorry.  I know I can fly a Veritech
as well or better than anyone.  I'm just not certain I can point
a GU-11 at someone and pull the trigger," she said softly,
referring to the giant gun pod usually slung under the body of
the fighter but more often carried in the Battloid's hand like a
machine gun.
     "You can if your life depended on it," Samantha groused.
     "I'm not so sure."
     "Okay, what about if MY life depended on it?"  Samantha's
eyes burned as she glared at her sister.
     "I don't know," Katherine sighed.
     Samantha's expression softened as she turned her sister's
way.  "Well, that's probably not so important anyway.  You're the
Executive Officer now.  You won't see as much action as the rest
of us.  The job's mostly paperwork and helping the Colonel run
the squadron.  You'll be like a war-chief, directing battles
instead of fighting them."
     Katherine snorted and ran a hand through her long, dark
hair.  "Of course, if Colonel Stuart doesn't come up with twenty-
four pilots, it won't make much difference one way or another. 
You'll be back to flying transports and I'll probably wind up
shuttling anything with wings from one base to another."
     "He only needs twelve to activate the squadron," Samantha
corrected.  "But, I doubt he'll find even that many."
     They sat in silence, listening to the rumble of the
approaching storm.  The darkening sky mirrored their mood.
     "He's going to need some help," Samantha said softly.
     Katherine nodded as she idly toyed with her pony-tail. 
"Major Vera said as much.  He was certain there were no
experienced Veritech pilots available."
     Samantha toyed with the electric window control.  There had
to be some way they could assure the squadron got enough pilots.
     "We could do a little looking around ourselves.  After all,
I *am* the Executive Officer of this squadron," Katherine said
with a flip of her pony-tail.  Her look told Samantha she had an
idea.
     "Where do you want to start?"
     "The Thirty-Second Squadron," Katherine said emphatically.
     "Yeah," Samantha agreed with a gleam in her eye.  "I'm sure
those two would join.  Then we could check with Aunt Margie over
at the mission.  She knows everyone around here.  I'll bet she'd
be able to scare-up a dozen pilots."
     "They need to be Veritech pilots," Katherine corrected but
not too seriously.  She knew that just about any flying
qualification would do if she had time to put them through a two
week, accelerated training course.  "Yeah, we can do it."
     
     Jeff was still sitting behind his desk.  He didn't care much
for what he just did.  He compromised his principals to stock a
squadron with warm bodies, something he swore he'd never do. 
Worse yet, he justified it by noting he won't be in command when
these people face the worst.  His stomach growled its
displeasure.
     Rocking back in his chair again, this time putting his feet
on the desk, he tried to drive the such depressing thoughts away. 
At least he got *two* pilots this time, real pilots with real
experience.  Okay, only one was really a first-rate Veritech
pilot but the other had sufficient hours to qualify as a rookie. 
In any case, he now had a total of three pilots.  If he got
twelve, the minimum for an operational squadron, General Emerson
*might* activate the squadron anyway and let him staff up after
they rotate to the new base.  Three flights of four was the bare
minimum to man a base.  He'd heard of other squadrons functioning
on seventeen or eighteen fighters due to breakdowns and combat
losses.  Maybe he'd get away with this yet.  Then again, maybe
not.
     He looked out the window at the gathering storm clouds.  The
sight of a older model automobile driving away reminded him to
make sure his vehicle's windows were rolled up.  He also had yet
to check on the Veritechs.  He needed those fighters.  Without
them, it wouldn't matter how many pilots and crew he recruited. 
No Veritechs, no squadron.
     He reached for the phone and dialed RDF Flight Operations. 
He already knew what they were going to say; the Veritechs are on
their way and no, there is no ETA on their arrival.
     With a sigh, he waited for someone to answer.  It wasn't
even lunch yet and he was already depressed.