FOX Squadron Episode 3 - Friends and Bad Memories by G.L. Sandborn The two Fox sisters stood in front of the Thirty-Second Squadron Maintenance Hangar. In better days this aging structure would have been buzzing with activity. Today, only a few Veritechs in various states of repair occupied the maintenance bays. Strewn about like discarded cardboard boxes, plastiform crates dotted the floor; some empty others not. One in every three lights either didn't work or flickered as if in their last moments of life. Birds noisily announced their residence in the trusses holding up the roof; their chirping echoing off the aging metal walls, their droppings marking the concrete floor. It wasn't the neat, tidy building seen before the Zentraedi War. Odors of lubricating fluids, stagnant water, and human sweat mingled; warning the sisters of what awaited them inside. "Geez, and I thought *our* new home looked bad," Samantha groused. "This is an active Veritech squadron?" Katherine sighed. "There's not much money available for maintenance anymore. Not since that idiot Leonard started taking everything for his precious Army of the Southern Cross." With a shake of her head, Samantha sidestepped an odd-looking blob floating in a puddle left over from the brief thunderstorm that blew through an hour before. "Well, where do you want to start looking?" Katherine glanced around until she spotted a small office just inside the main hangar doors. "How about over there?" she suggested. Samantha quickly followed her older sister through the massive sixty-foot doors. Inside, the smells intensified. Katherine wrinkled her nose at the odors while Samantha disguised her discomfort with a well placed handkerchief as the pair hurried to the office. The odors were only slightly better inside. A bored-looking officer, leaning back in his chair with feet on the desk and reading a trashy novel gave them a rude glance before turning back to his book and asking what they wanted. When Katherine told him who they were looking for, he was less than helpful. Acting like this was a great intrusion on his personal time, he rifled through some papers and glanced around like he didn't recognize where he was. Finally, the man said he wasn't sure but they might find the person they were looking for back in Bay Twelve. Thanking him, the sisters took a deep breath and plunged back out in the hangar. Weaving their way around crates and parked vehicles, they probed deeper into the facility. With the exception of the birds, it was eerily quiet for an active squadron's maintenance facility. Normally, dozens of technicians would be swarming over the fighters, performing every sort of imaginable repair, check, or upgrade. Instead, only a few enlisted people could be seen. Most looked like they were more interested in finding a good place to nap than doing anything productive. Their officers were notable by their absence. The Foxes rounded a large crate near Bay Twelve and came to a stop at the sight of a Veritech standing majestically in Battloid mode. Towering over everything in the hangar like a metal man surveying his domain, the forty-two foot wonder of Robotechnology looked more like something that belonged in a reconstruction facility than an active squadron's hangar. Its formerly distinctive red and gold trim was smudged off in places, mud splattered its white undersides, streaks of fluid cut a network of trails across its legs, even the squadron insignia looked worn and lifeless. The craft had obviously seen better days. "There she is," Samantha said indicating a figure on her back with her upper torso partially obscured beneath the arch of one of the Battloid's giant feet; looking like someone who'd been stepped on. As they approached, it became apparent this was no ordinary woman. She was big. Not an overweight, flabby version of 'big' but a young, powerfully built, six foot tall young lady. "Excuse me," Katherine said, stopping next to the figure's feet. "Are you Lieutenant Daisy Mills?" The figure under the Veritech's foot slid out and repositioned a three foot long wrench to a fitting on the outside of the fighter's massive leg. "Yeah, that's me. Who's asking?" she said without so much as a glance their way. "I'm Captain Katherine Fox and this is Lieutenant Samantha Fox. We'd like to talk to you about your assignment." Katherine winced when the wrench failed to hold its grip, raking Daisy's knuckles against the unforgiving metal. She also wrinkled her nose at the way the girl was dressed; grease-stained coveralls and worn boots that looked as old as her Veritech. Her shoulder- length, coal black hair was barely restrained by a grubby-looking hat turned so its brim was facing backwards. "Already got one," Daisy said between clenched teeth while bracing a foot against another part of the Veritech's base and pulling on the wrench. Her rolled up sleeves displayed powerful forearms and biceps flexing and straining at the effort. Samantha tilted her head like she'd just noticed something. "Forgive me for being a little dense but what are you doing?" Daisy's muscles all seemed to go lax at the same time. The girl exhaled hard and rolled her head, regarding Samantha in a curious way. "I'm trying to remove the blast deflector in order to replace it." "Why?" Samantha asked incredulously. "Because the damn Maintenance Officer refuses to do it," Daisy yelled, casting a lethal glance at the little office in the front of the hangar. "The worthless slug." "I hate to break this to you but you shouldn't need to ever change the blast deflector." Samantha was obviously not trying to sound smug but the way she phrased her statement sure made it sound that way. She only made things worse by quoting a section of the Veritech's Maintenance Manual that suggested a Veritech blast deflector should last longer than the estimated life-span of the Veritech itself and thus, never needing to be replaced. Daisy just regarded the young officer with a scowl. "You must be one of them 'academy' graduates." Samantha bristled. "At least I know enough not to try and replace a part that isn't worn out or defective." If she was expecting the big Lakota woman to take up the challenge, she must have been disappointed. Daisy just snorted and shook her head. "Book learnin', spit and polish officers," she grumbled. "You know everything but real life." She took the wrench and banged it against the deflector. A large chunk of material fell to the hangar floor with a dull 'thud'. Samantha's jaw dropped. This was impossible. Everyone knew the deflectors on a Veritech were made of the toughest materials known to man. How could it have become so brittle? Daisy flipped the book-sized chunk towards her visitors and went back to fitting the wrench for another try. "Sounds like some 'genius' forgot to read the special notice that came out a couple of months ago about the effects of GF-42 hydraulic fluid on the structural integrity of standard blast deflectors." She looked at Samantha with a condescending expression. "It causes the molecular bonding of the surface layer to separate, to flake off, resulting in thinning of the protection and eventually a failure of the deflector. This bucket of bolts leaks like an old automobile." She paused long enough to cast a smug look Samantha's way. "I'll bet you don't know what happens when a deflector fails." "The leg explodes from the exhaust coming in contact with the aircraft's skin," Katherine answered for her sister with a knowing nod. "We had one at the flight school do just that. Blew the leg clean off." "Which is exactly what I'm trying to avoid. So, if you'll forgive me, I'll get back to changin' it out." Daisy repositioned herself and put all her strength into trying to dislodge the stubborn fitting. It didn't yield. Samantha, still smarting from being proven wrong, made a face and looked the Veritech up and down. "Why are *you* doing this? I mean, if you're a pilot and all, why aren't the maintenance crew replacing it?" Daisy stopped tugging and hung her head. With a sigh she waved a hand towards the rest of the seemingly empty hangar. "You *see* any maintenance crew? I mean, besides those picking their noses or taking naps." Katherine had to admit, there was a distinct lack of action amongst the pitifully few RDF enlisted personnel in the hangar. It was like they'd simply lost interest in what they were supposed to be doing. "Besides, I want the job done right." Daisy dropped to her back and scooted back under the foot. The Fox sisters looked at each other and shrugged. "Then I'm to take it you're happy here?" Katherine asked. "What's not to like?" Daisy's voice echoed inside the blast chamber. "I fly escort for a Cat's-Eye twice a week, sit around in the Ready Room three other days - just in case we're invaded or something, and get to sleep late the rest of the time." "Then you wouldn't be interested in a combat position with a new squadron," Samantha chided. Daisy's body froze inside the Veritech's leg. "Combat? New Squadron?" "Yeah, we're scheduled to take over a small base in the Ozarks in thirty days. It's a two year tour keeping the peace between Earth Government territory, the Arkansas Protectorate, and the Barony of York. The CO expects we'll see lots of action," Katherine noted like she was selling a used car. Daisy stuck her head out and grinned. "Sounds dangerous. Count me in." "Really?" Samantha gasped. She didn't expect it to go this easily. "Yeah, why not? I'm ready for a change anyway." Daisy's voice echoed from inside the foot again. "You're not going without me," came a voice booming over the Veritech's external loudspeaker. All three jumped as the voice echoed in the mostly-empty hangar. Daisy banged her head on the blast chamber walls causing an avalanche of black, sooty material to coat her upper body. She slid out from under the foot sputtering and snarling. "Who the hell is that?" Samantha exclaimed, wiggling fingers in her ears like they were still ringing. "My sister, Virginia," Daisy growled while brushing off her coveralls. "She's definitely *not* a Veritech pilot." The head of the Battloid noisily slid forward and a single pilot's seat extended through the opening it created. From the seat, a slightly built young lady leaned forward enough to be seen from below. "She's a pilot?" Samantha gasped. She obviously didn't think so either. "She's a helicopter pilot," Daisy replied apologetically. "Helicopter pilot?" Katherine asked, looking at Daisy who'd switched to reclining against the outside of the Veritech's leg and wiping off her clothing. "She flies the Sea-Sergeant we got parked out back." Daisy wiped her face with a grubby rag. "They use it for search and rescue and transporting stuff. It's a boring job, I'll admit, but she ain't no fighter jock." Katherine hesitated. She was certain she could teach anyone with fixed-wing flying experience to handle a Veritech but chopper pilots were a different breed. They didn't play by the same rules as fixed-wing pilots. "I don't know," she said to no one in particular. Samantha leaned against the Veritech and crossed her arms, regarding her sister with a raised eyebrow. "Wasn't it you who told me they teach a monkey to fly a Veritech?" she chided. "Well, she'd certainly qualify," Daisy said glaring up at her younger sister. "I heard that!" Virginia's voice screeched over the loudspeaker causing everyone in the hangar to cover their ears. "Damn it, Ginnie! Turn that thing off before you deafen everyone!" Daisy yelled. "All right!" Virginia angrily yelled back, this time without the artificial aid. It wasn't much better. For such a little person, she had a piercing voice. "You're always yelling at me!" "I do not!" "Do too!" "DO NOT!" "BIG BOOBS!" "MICROBUTT!" Samantha, still leaning against the Veritech's leg, rolled her eyes and looked to her sister. "Are you certain these two are worth it?" "Not if you want to go back to flying transports." "Cheap shot." The Mills sisters continued their verbal assaults, escalating into linguistic territories Katherine and Samantha had rarely explored. "Excuse me," Katherine said pleasantly. No effect. In fact, the argument seemed to escalate. "Excuse me!" She tried yelling. Still no effect. She was about to try again when Samantha held up a hand, signaling her to wait a moment. Putting two fingers in her mouth, the younger Fox sister emitted a whistle that could cut through any noise. It seemed to work - too well. The Mills sisters stopped their arguing and stared, one of the sleeping mechanics fell off the box he was dozing on, and the Maintenance Officer noisily fell off his chair up front. "Thank you," Katherine said with a gracious nod her sister's way. "If you two think you can control yourselves long enough, I'd like to discuss the transfer." Grudgingly, Daisy pushed herself to her feet and stood next to Samantha, towering over the younger Fox sister. Katherine blinked at the woman. Daisy was easily six to eight inches taller and sturdily built. She also noticed how the woman's coveralls appeared to be in a losing battle trying to restrain and contain her impressive dimensions. She swallowed, blinked again and attempted to guess the woman's bust size. On a scale from 'Missing In Action' to her own 'Not Bad At All', she rated Daisy somewhere around 'Oh My God!'. Daisy glanced between the Fox sisters before abandoning her grubby rag in favor of an arm, wiping her nose from forearm to knuckles. Samantha groaned in dismay. This woman was *not* an academy grad. Virginia stepped onto an access platform high above their heads and quietly climbed down to the hangar floor, ending next to Katherine but still eyeing her older sister. The two couldn't be more different. Where Daisy was as big as any man on the base, Virginia was petite, almost tiny in comparison. She was also strikingly beautiful. Flawless skin a few shades lighter than most Lakota and otherwise perfectly formed features, she stood barely five feet tall in her boots and looked like something once seen on the cover of fashion magazines - back when they used to produce such extravagances. "The offer stands," Katherine said politely before turning to the younger Mills sister. "To both of you." "What about the fact she can't fly a Veritech?" Daisy asked, returning her little sister's glare for mentioning the discrepancy. Katherine had to admit, that bothered her somewhat. "Have you ever flown any kind of fixed-wing aircraft?" Virginia fidgeted before answering in a soft voice: "No, not really." "Tell her all of it," Daisy prompted with a frown. That almost started another argument. If it wasn't for Katherine raising one finger in a warning gesture, Virginia might have done just that. "Well, I had a little trouble in flight school. That's why I fly choppers," the younger Mills sheepishly admitted to the floor while she toyed with the zipper on her spotless flight suit. "I don't know why it happens but I sometimes have trouble when an aircraft goes fast. It's like the plane is flying me. I don't feel like I'm in control as much as I do in a chopper." Katherine and Samantha exchanged looks. "Well, maybe we'd better discuss this," Katherine said. "Yeah, like over lunch. It's almost time," Samantha enthusiastically added. "Both of us?" Daisy asked casting more of an older sister expression Virginia's way. "Sure, why not?" Katherine added a welcoming smile to her confirmation. "Why don't you two go get cleaned up and we'll take you over to the BX for lunch." Samantha provided her own smile. "Beats eating at the barracks." "That's for sure," Virginia said with a sigh. "All they serve there is fat food." She held out a hand to indicate her older sister. "Exhibit A." "Why you little..." Daisy growled, lunging at her sister who escaped by ducking behind Katherine. Samantha threw her body in front of the charging Daisy only to feel herself being absorbed by the woman's massive front end. Moments before suffocation, she came into contact with a rock-solid chest. Putting her shoulder into the effort, her dress shoes sliding across the hangar floor, she eventually brought up short the still snarling Daisy - but just barely. "Perhaps you better go get cleaned up by yourself," Katherine said loudly like a scolding mother. Reaching behind she snagged the younger Mills sister by the collar and pulled her around to look directly into the shorter woman's eyes. "Miss Virginia and I are going to have a little talk." "Very well," Daisy said giving up her assault and standing with Samantha's hand still embedded in her chest. She frowned at the violation before slapping Samantha's hand away and wiping her nose again. "I won't be long." "Take as much time as you like," Samantha offered before turning with a disgusted look at the residue from Daisy's coveralls that now coated her hands. "Eeeewwww." Daisy glared at her younger sister then started for the locker room. It was clear she didn't consider the issue closed. Once the older sister was out of earshot, Katherine released Virginia, crossed her arms and regarded her sternly. "If you two can't control yourselves, maybe it would be for the best if you stayed with your helicopter duties." A hurt look flickered across Virginia's face. "I'm sorry," she answered, adjusting her collar and glancing between the Foxes. "It's just that everyone looks down on chopper pilots. You know, like we're not as good as they are. Daisy sometimes treats me that way." She pouted at the floor for a moment before shrugging her slender shoulders. "Look, I don't want to cause any trouble for you guys. I'll just stay here, shuttling crap from one shitty place to another." As the younger Mills sister grumbled on about being left behind, Katherine's expression melted into complete disbelief. Here was a devastatingly beautiful woman, one who could easily grace more posters than the illustrious Lynn Minmei, talking like an infantry grunt. The more Virginia talked, the worse her language got. While Katherine was no stranger to coarse words, listening to such a beauty talk that way certainly destroyed any illusions she might have had about physical attractiveness. She was so caught up in analyzing the possible causes to the woman's horrendous speech patterns that she almost missed her next question. "If I work real hard and promise to stay out of trouble, would you at least try to teach me how to fly a Veritech?" Shaken out of her introspection by a well-placed nudge from her sister, Katherine smiled and nodded. "If you have good enough hand-eye coordination to fly a helicopter, I'm certain you can be trained in a Veritech." "How you gonna do that?" Samantha asked with raised eyebrows. "The same way I did you - only quicker." "Great," Samantha grumbled with a disbelieving blink. "We don't even have any Veritechs yet and already you're thinking of ways to crash them." Katherine pretended she didn't hear her sister. "Why don't we all go have some nice lunch and get to know one another?" It was Virginia's turn to extend an incredulous look Katherine's way. "You're related to Pollyanna, aren't you?" "No, I don't think so." Katherine struck a thoughtful pose. "There's a Pollyanna Walking Dog over in Kyle. She's related to my step-uncle. Or was it my third cousin?" ***** Back at Thirteen Squadron Headquarters, Colonel Stuart was just finishing up his morning paperwork. A yawn escaped as he leaned back in his chair, arms high over his head, and stretched. He needed to get up and walk around. Maybe even get another cup of coffee. That was another surprising talent of Lieutenant Wallace - she made a killer cup of coffee. He found the coffee pot on the file cabinets out in the main office and poured some into his cup. He looked up in time to see Ona and Cindy heading for the front door. His quizzical expression didn't require Cindy's usual skills. "Going to lunch, sir," she chirped. Jeff checked the clock. Sure enough, it was almost noon. "So I see," he said putting the pot back. "Who's going to answer the phones?" "Sir, nobody's called since we moved in." She was right, of course. Since he'd first arrived, he couldn't recall the phone ever ringing. He knew the thing worked because he used it himself for outgoing calls. "Well, okay. Just don't be too long. I'm expecting a call about the Veritechs any time now." With a promise that they'd hurry back, the two were gone. Jeff sighed and looked around the empty office. Everything was ready for a squadron to move in. All the computer equipment was hooked up, all the phones worked, the place looked neat and orderly, even the proper pictures were on the wall. All it lacked was people. He still only had Ona, Cindy, and the Fox sisters. Not much of a squadron. "Might as well lock up and go to lunch myself," he muttered. There really wasn't much reason to stay. Besides, being in an empty building gave him the creeps. He'd just closed his office door in preparation to leave when he was startled by the appearance of another person in the room. Standing in front of Cindy's desk was a short, athletic- looking young lady. "I'm sorry. Can I help you?" he asked. She looked like something just removed from a clothes dryer. Her flight suit was rumpled, her eyes were sunken as if from lack of sleep and her shoulder-length dark hair seemed to have a will of its own. Her name tag read: 'Robins' and she wore the wings of a Veritech pilot. Where her squadron patch should have been, was a blank velcro fastener. Either she'd just come in from a combat mission or she'd been very careless. "I'm Lieutenant Missy Robins, sir," the woman said with a hint of a salute. Her body swayed slightly like she was having trouble with her balance. Jeff blinked and added a concerned frown. "Are you okay?" "Reporting for duty...., sir..." The woman wavered, her eyes rolling up in her head, before she silently pitched forward into Jeff's arms. He frantically looked around for somewhere besides the floor to put the unconscious woman. It was either Cindy's desk or the sofa in his office. He eyed the organized chaos that was his Admin Officer's desk before deciding on the sofa. Scooping the limp figure into his harms, he struggled to get her through the door to his office. All the time, his mind was racing with questions. Reporting for duty? What did she mean by 'reporting for duty'? And where did she come from, anyway? More importantly, why did she pass out? Getting her on his sofa proved to be the easy part. Now all he had to do was figure out what to do with her. The hospital. Yeah, that's it. He'd call the hospital and have them send an ambulance. Perfect. He dialed the phone. It answered on the second ring. "Yellowstone Base Hospital," came a female's voice at the other end. "Yes, I'd like --" "If this is an emergency, press 1. For medical records, press 2. For the pharmacy, press 3..." He aborted the rest of the list by pressing '1'. He couldn't believe it, he was getting a damned recording. "If this is a critical emergency, press 1. If this is an urgent but not life threatening emergency, press 2. For all other emergencies, press 3." He eyed the unconscious woman on his sofa. She seemed to be breathing okay and her deeply tanned skin gave no indication of being flushed. As there were no open wounds visible, he guessed her condition to be a three. "All of our doctors are currently busy. Please leave your name and phone number. One of our on-call, doctors or nurse diagnosticians will get back to you as soon as possible. Have a nice day." In disbelief, he hung up the phone. He wasn't going to leave his name in hopes that some overworked RN or disinterested doctor would eventually call. Besides, how would he explain what happened? Yes, doctor, she just wandered in and passed out in my arms. No, this rarely happens out here. They're usually awake when they throw themselves at me. Jeff sighed. Even his sense of humor seemed out of place. While he was contemplating what to do next, his problem solved itself. The woman stirred, her eyes fluttering open. When they focused on his face, she drew a sharp breath and tried to sit up. "Go slow, Lieutenant," he offered, extending a hand to help. She waved it away. "I'm sorry, sir," she said softly. "I haven't slept in two days. I left the Miami Base on --" "Miami Base?" he blurted out, interrupting her. Miami Base was where the defecting squadron was based. "What's your outfit?" She swept her dark hair from in front of her face with a shaky hand and admitted she was, until recently, a member of the squadron in question. "I heard you all decided to join the rebelling government." Jeff's accusing tone caused her to freeze before a dismayed expression took control. "Not everyone, sir." She licked her lips and blinked a couple of times. "A few of us refused. We claimed no allegiance to the regional government." "You look like you haven't eaten in two days either," Jeff observed. When she nodded, he pulled out one of the survival ration bars he kept in a desk drawer for emergencies and tossed it her way. She caught the bag with one hand and tore it open, biting off a large chunk. "It all happened so quickly. I don't know how many died. The XO resisted, I know that much. My roommate got in a running gun battle when they tried to disarm her." She sadly shook her head. "I don't know what happened after that. She was Zentraedi so I suspect they didn't give her much of a chance." Jeff raised his hand to halt her story. "You ought to be telling this to RDF Intelligence." To his surprise, her reaction was immediate and fearful. "No, sir! If I tell them what really happened..." Her hands waved in resignation before her body sagged deeper into the cushions of the sofa. "What's the use. Nobody's gonna believe me anyway." "Maybe. Why don't you tell me what happened?" Jeff asked, pushing a few things aside on his desk so he could sit down. "From the beginning." The tale she told between bites of ration was one of disenchantment, political maneuvering, and outright arrogance. For several years, the base had become a hotbed of political rivalries as more RDF personnel with links to the region were assigned there. Those not from the region became outsiders, more often viewed with suspicion than as fellow members of the same squadron. The base commander kept a lid on all this dissention as best he could, probably to keep his superiors at RDF Yellowstone from finding out, but with such an explosive mixture, all that was needed was a spark. The unexpected arrival of General Lewellen from ASC Headquarters became that spark. Arriving like a visiting head of state, the pompous officer began demanding things, like the complete plans for the base. He claimed the ASC would be taking over soon and that there was no place in the new world order for the RDF. Of course, the ASC would entertain requests from the pilots for non-flying positions but the rest would be dismissed as soon as possible. That was bad enough but when he demanded the RDF Security Forces clear out a local town to provide a wider free-fire zone for his Hover Tanks, the *real* grumbling began. Some of the RDF families were living in that town. It exploded into a full scale mutiny when the base commander refused. When no one stepped forward to replace him, the General ordered the arrest of all the senior officers for insubordination. Missy trembled as she detailed the horrific twenty minutes when ASC and RDF alike died in a murderous exchange of gunfire. "I refused to fight either side and hid under a vehicle. After it was all over, I was arrested by the mutineers as a traitor and locked in the Day Room." "How'd you escape?" Jeff asked as he handed her a bottle of spring water. Missy blushed and nervously fingered the bottle. "The person who was guarding me was someone who'd in the past expressed an interest in my... company." "He found you physically attractive," Jeff clarified. When she nodded, he knew what was coming. "The mutineers convened a kangaroo court the next morning for those of us who refused to go along. It took them all day, arguing and threatening each other before they came up with a verdict. Unless you had ties to the area, you were considered a threat to security. As an outsider and loyal RDF officer, I was sentenced to death." Jeff's jaw dropped. They were going to shoot her in cold blood? He'd seen a lot of things in his time, many that could be counted as atrocities, but the idea of taking another human being out and killing them with no more concern than squashing a cockroach stoked a dislike in him that bordered on hatred. He never cared for such feelings, thinking them impediments to his usual sense of control, but visions he had of loyal RDF personnel being murdered by their former comrades gave him reason for his hatred. "They were going to... do it the next morning. I had to think of something quick or..." She sniffed and shuddered before continuing. "That night, I... told the guard I didn't want to die a virgin." As her voice faded away in embarrassment over what she was admitting, Jeff turned to look out the window. He'd always advocated that should life deal you a losing hand, you just upset the card table and take the initiative back - by whatever means necessary. The world since the Zentraedi War had taught him that when left to their own devices, most humans were little better than the animals they shared this scarred world with. The fact this officer had used sex to gain her freedom only meant she was more resourceful than most. He turned back to the now silent Lieutenant. "Did he let you go?" Wrong question. Her eyes squeezed shut. He could see her teeth clenched and her hands ball into fists. "I... I let him..." She appeared to be on the verge of crying, sweat crowned her forehead. "In the middle I..." She swallowed hard. "I used his knife..." she said with a hard exhale. Jeff stopped her with a hand on her trembling shoulder. He already knew all he needed. She responded by hugging herself, her arms squeezing her small breasts in a protective embrace. It had to have been the hardest thing she'd ever done. Lull a man into thinking she was submitting to sex and then killing him in the middle of the act itself. "How'd you get here?" Jeff hoped memories of her flight would somehow mitigate the horrific sights and sounds of what she did to escape custody. She took a ragged breath. "My Veritech was in the maintenance hangar. I knew there were only two others in there with it. There was a single guard out front." She looked Jeff directly in the eyes. He could see her determination. "I snuck in through an unguarded door in back, powered up my bird and shot my way out of there. I don't think my wheels touched the ground outside the hangar." "Pretty fancy flying." "Desperation, sir, is a great motivator." Touche, he thought. Nothing like a whole airfield full of hostile guns to make you fly close to the edge. "So then you came here," he prompted. "Not directly. I was going to head for our emergency base in Cuba but decided that being the most obvious escape route, it was the one they would most likely check first." "Why didn't you go for the fleet off shore?" "I knew they'd be submerged and figured they wouldn't surface for a suspicious lone Veritech anyway. Besides, I didn't know how to contact them." "So you made a bee-line for Yellowstone." "No, I went south just enough to give anyone tracking me the impression I was heading for Cuba. Then I killed my IFF and anything that emitted a signal, dropped flat on the deck and headed out over the Gulf of Mexico." Jeff leaned back stroking his chin. Smart cookie. Turning off her electronics so pursuing fighters, Veritech or not, couldn't electronically interrogate her bird and get a fix on her position. Hugging the waves would make her hard to detect for anyone but a Cat's-Eye. "I made it to Mexico just before dawn and hid in the rubble of an old church there. I didn't dare sleep, the Mexican territories are crawling with high-tech bandits and people eager to betray an RDF pilot for some Unification credits." That made sense. Hiding in a place few would think to look until she could resume under the cover of darkness proved she had cunning as well as courage. "Anyway, by dusk, I was starving and barely able to stay awake. By the time I took off, I'd made up my mind where to go." "Where?" "Home, sir." "Home?" "I'm Lakota, sir. My home is Pine Ridge." Jeff nodded. That also made sense. In moments of desperation, he'd known others who considered the safety of home the only option. "Somewhere over the Arkansas Protectorate, I was jumped by a flight of Pod Fighters." "Jumped? How did they get a jump on you?" "Sir, I had all my electronics off. Anything that could have given an enemy a fix was deactivated. That meant I couldn't see anyone as well. No radar." "Of course," Jeff admitted sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his head and grimaced at his oversight. "From there, it was a four hundred mile running battle with Fighter Pods, old Falcon jets, and even a pair of, I think, Migs." "What were Migs doing over Arkansas?" Missy shrugged. "That's not my department, sir, but they sure looked like EBSIS Migs. At least, what look I did get. I was pretty busy ducking, if you know what I mean." Jeff did. He'd been there many times himself. However, the news that the latest version of the venerable mainstay of the EBSIS and its precursors was operating in the Arkansas Protectorate was a sobering thought. One he better check out before the squadron is posted to its Ozark base. If what Missy said was true, odds were good they were going to encounter them. "I took a few hits, couldn't transform, and lost an engine." Missy's voice switched to sad, like she was describing the loss of a close friend. "I had to punch out fifty miles short of home." "Lost her, eh?" "Very expensive lawn dart, sir." Jeff almost chuckled at the age-old reference to the end result of an ejection. He knew how hard it was to abandon a craft that had saved your life. He'd done it himself. Luckily he never saw any of his actually crash. That probably would have been too much. "Anyway, I hitched a ride part of the way and hoofed the rest." Missy seemed to relax at the end of her story. "That still doesn't explain how you got here?" "When I showed up at home, not everyone was glad to see me. Especially the elders. To them, I'd run in battle. Not something that endears you to my people." "Yeah, I know," Jeff said, moving around to sit in his office chair. "Oh, your wife," she said apologetically. "I forgot you're married to one of us." Jeff chuckled and leaned back in his chair. He'd spent the last eight years being thoroughly indoctrinated in the Sioux culture. First and foremost, they were a warrior people. Next to the Apache the hardest people to bend to the white man's 'civilization'. The old ways die hard. In many cases, kept alive by the sheer will of the older members of the tribe. His wife's family was strong in the ways of the Lakota and spared no effort to make certain he understood. He knew how Missy's actions would be perceived. "So they marked you a coward," he said, leveling a serious look Missy's way. She blushed and shuffled her boots on the floor. "My family wouldn't even let me sleep under their roof because of what I did." She sighed and shook her head. "My brother was kind enough to drive me to Aunt Margie's mission just outside the base here. Before I went in, I overheard her talking to someone about your need for pilots." Jeff eyed the Lieutenant. There was something she wasn't telling him. She must have sensed his distrust. "The only way I can redeem myself in the eyes of my people... my family is to go back into battle and prove I'm no coward. You're going somewhere dangerous. That's where I want to be, somewhere I can regain my dignity." She hesitated, her eyes dropping to the floor. "And maybe I can even forget..." Jeff grunted and closed his eyes. Here was another decision he had to make. He needed pilots; combat experienced pilots. She certainly fit the bill. However, she came with a truck-load of baggage. The biggest of which was how the RDF was going to react to her showing up like this. He couldn't just turn her over to the authorities. She'd disappear into the RDF bureaucracy, probably never to fly again. On the other hand, if there was some way he could get her assigned to his squadron, he could protect her, somewhat, and maybe give her the chance to redeem herself to both the RDF and her family. This was going to take some thought. "You do know we'll have to deal with RDF Command at some point," he said as a warning. He knew how suspicious the RDF was to those they considered disloyal. Her 'escape' could be interpreted as a rouse to get someone deep in the RDF, to report back preparations, deployments, and intentions of the new world government. "I understand, sir," she said softly. "But if you were to accept me in the squadron, it might..." Her hands swept outward in a pleading gesture. Jeff sighed. He needed time to think about this one. "Do you have anyplace to stay? I can't chance putting you up at Grant Barracks. Someone's bound to check your name." "Aunt Margie usually has a couple of spare cots at the mission." She shrugged. "If not, I'll sleep on the floor." "Are you certain she'll take you?" "Aunt Margie is a Christian missionary. Her job is to provide comfort for those in trouble. She'll take me in, if only for a couple of days." "I'll see what I can do. You get your butt off base before someone notices you. I'll contact you at the mission tomorrow," he said standing up. "Yes, sir," Missy replied, standing and snapping a tired salute. "And thank you, sir." "Don't thank me yet, young lady. You're not out of the woods by any stretch of the imagination." He watched Lieutenant Robins leave. Either she was the bravest person he'd ever met or the best story-teller. The problem was, he had less than twenty-four hours to figure out which. ***** The Base Exchange at Yellowstone RDF was even better than most pre-war facilities. Nestled in the rolling hills on the west side of the base, it featured everything from a clothing facility to a post office. Naturally, it was the focal point of the base community. Katherine discovered the little sandwich and coffee shop at the BX soon after her assignment to the base. Run by a couple of ex-RDF mechanics, it turned out a respectable lunch menu. During good weather, its cluster of outdoor tables were a magnet to off- duty personnel. The Fox sisters had no trouble with Daisy and Virginia once they were out of the squadron area. It was like the moment the women were on neutral ground, they no longer felt the urge to fight. In fact, they seemed to grow closer in an act of defensiveness to the outside world. Katherine had seen this countless times among the various tribesmen who joined the RDF. Often they were ridiculed for their standoffishness. In reality, it was just a defensive measure for their own protection. Commandeering an empty table, the four quickly bought their lunch and settled in to enjoy the late spring sunshine in an almost picnic atmosphere. Talk drifted from rumors about RDF deployments to where mutual acquaintances from back home were assigned to eventually the new squadron. Katherine enjoyed just being 'one of the girls', despite her new role as the Executive Officer. The time was coming when she'd have to make hard decisions about these people she was having lunch with. She looked from face to face and wondered if she'd have any better luck ordering them to kill than she would if it were her doing the killing. "Ginnie!," came an excited voice from the entrance. Virginia stiffened before sagging into her seat. "Who's that?" Samantha asked, leaning forward so as to not be heard outside their group. "My roommate," Virginia said apologetically. "The nerd." Their excited visiter bounded up to the table like an excited puppy. Snagging an empty chair from a nearby table, she plopped down between Virginia and Katherine. "Hey, you gonna eat that?" she asked, pointing to Virginia's pickle spear. Before Virginia could answer, the bubbly young lady snatched it from her plate and took a loud, sloppy bite. "Mmmmmm, I love a good, natural pickle," she cooed with a full mouth. "You can't find them anymore - except here." Virginia introduced everyone and was about to introduce her roommate when the girl snatched Katherine's glass and took a long drink. Setting the glass back down with an authoritative 'thump', she wiped her right hand on her uniform skirt and extended it Katherine's way. "Gloria Graywolf," she said proudly. "All my friends call me GeeGee. Get it?" Katherine interrupted Gloria's attempt at explaining how she came by her innovative nickname. "I think we all 'get it'," she said, shaking the eager young woman's hand. She critically eyed GeeGee as the girl snagged half of Virginia's sandwich. Gloria was young, very young, possibly no more than sixteen or seventeen. She had about as much military bearing as a cheerleader in high school. Short and a little plump, her duty uniform gave no hint as to her occupation at the base. There certainly were no wings on her chest. Her short, dark hair had been artificially frosted to give her a distinctive two-tone look. "So,... GeeGee, what is it you do?" Katherine asked politely, like an indulgent mother meeting the adolescent friend of her own daughter. "Oh, I work down in the computer center. I'm a networking coordinator. I link all the squadrons to headquarters," she crowed. She got an excitedly mischievous look on her face as she glanced between Katherine and Samantha. "Say, what squadron are you from?" Katherine smiled another motherly smile. "We're with 13-Foxtrot Squadron. We were just discussing its future before you arrived." Gloria absently snatched the other half of Virginia's sandwich and took a big bite. "Thirteen-Foxtrot, eh? You have my condolences," she said, spitting bits of sandwich as she talked. "Why?" "First of all, whoever hooked up your computers is an idiot. I'm surprised they work at all." Having dispensed with the sandwich, she ran each of her finger tips through her lips to clean them. "You have no idea what I had to do to make them even talk properly to our stuff. I mean, the encryption code you're using has to be ten years old." Katherine nodded politely. "Well, thank you for all your work. Of course, the Colonel hooked up our computers before any of us even arrived." "Ah, that explains it." Gloria absently reached for Daisy's plate only to quickly snatch back her hand when the bigger woman growled. Wrong plate. "That wouldn't be Colonel 'Light-Horse' Stuart would it? They call him 'The Loon' over at HQ." The Fox sisters exchanged looks. "Why do you call him that?" Samantha demanded. "My best friend is General Emerson's secretary and she told me all about him," Gloria said a bit smugly. "Especially your Colonel's visit last week. He practically tore the general's office apart. Security guys had to go in and break it up. All because he had to take Thirteen Squadron." Gloria leaned forward, looking left and right, like she was letting them in on a secret. "I know what's really going on." Katherine mimicked the younger girl's actions and asked: "What's going on?" "He's retiring in a month." The Fox sisters sat back in their seats, stunned. "What did you say?" Samantha demanded. "All he's supposed to do is recruit a squadron. Someone else is taking over before the end of the month." She hungrily examined Katherine's plate. "You gonna eat that?" she asked pointing to the other half of Katherine's sandwich. Katherine and Samantha stared at each other as Katherine slid her plate towards Gloria. This can't be right. The Colonel never said anything about retiring. In fact, he made it sound like he personally was going to lead them at their new base. They only signed on because of him and his reputation. A darker thought occurred to her. It was based on a woman's age-old dislike at being seduced, violated and abandoned after the man got what he wanted. In this case, her name on a transfer. She began to do a slow burn. Samantha was only slightly less angry but she could still see the warning signs in her sister. "I'd think this over," she warned. "Don't go do something stupid now. It's not his fault we weren't told. Remember, Aunt Kay was the one who told us about the squadron." "She didn't tell us everything," Katherine answered, standing up. "She probably didn't know everything." As her sister started walking away, Samantha stood and called out: "Where are you going?" Katherine spun around and glared at her sister. "To get some straight answers from him. If that weasel thinks..." She stopped when everyone seemed to interrupt their meal to stare at her making a spectacle of herself. She must have sounded like a jilted lover. With a forced, embarrassed smile, she turned and fled the cafe. Samantha dropped back into her seat and shook her head. "I had no idea." "Well, don't feel so bad," Gloria said stuffing the last of Katherine's sandwich into her mouth. "I mean, after what he's been through, you really can't blame him." "Why?" Samantha said in a low snarl. Gloria's eyes went wide. "You don't know?" Samantha sighed. "Apparently, there's lots of things I don't know about this squadron." Gloria scooted closer and leaned over the table, her eyes shifting between her three remaining lunch companions. "Did you know Colonel Stuart had a twin sister?" "No," Samantha replied with a frown. "So what?" "Then you don't know the story." Gloria squirmed like keeping this to herself was a torture. "Ten years ago, your CO was an instructor at the RDF Academy. They put him there because he shot down all those Zentraedi during the war or something. Anyway, his twin sister, Jennifer, was a flight leader for a Veritech squadron down south. I think it was somewhere along the Arkansas Protectorate. Anyway, he decided to pay her a surprise visit for their birthday. When he arrived, she was already gone, taking her flight to check on one of the locals who'd reported suspicious activity nearby." Gloria paused to see if she had the attention of her audience. They were hanging on every word. "Yeah, so?" Daisy asked with a distrustful look. "So, there was an ambush by rebel Zentraedi. Jennifer Stuart and her entire flight got wiped out." Gloria dropped back in her chair, taking Virginia's cold drink with her as a reward for such a good story. "They say, he was the first to fly there. He even beat the Rapid Response Team from the base. I also heard he was the first to find her and she died in his arms. He hasn't been the same since." Samantha looked to Daisy and Virginia. Daisy's expression darked like someone ready for revenge. Virginia frowned between glances at her rapidly disappearing drink. "So that's why he's reluctant to take women in his squadron," she said. "There's another reason he doesn't want the squadron," Gloria added before stifling a tiny belch. "It's headed for the same base where she died." ***** Jeff tilted back in his office chair, his feet resting on the window sill. With the visit of Lt. Robins, he gave up going to lunch. There was simply too much to think about. To begin with, he was racking up an impressive score of women pilots. While such numbers should have made him happy, the fact they were female gnawed at him. Only the knowledge they were Lakota and Zentraedi women gave him any comfort. He knew how capable the Lakota were from his wife. He knew about the Zentraedi from personal experience. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his still full dark hair and reminded himself his job was to put a squadron together; nothing more. It shouldn't matter who, or what, they are. Just so long as they're qualified Veritech pilots. That thought left him feeling uneasy. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was doing something wrong. The slamming of the front door shook him back to the here and now. The girls must be coming back from lunch. He sighed again and figured he'd better look busy. Swiveling around in his chair, he picked up a pen and studied the papers on his desk. There was a knock at his door - actually, more like someone pounding. "In," he barked. The door swung open; only to be stopped by the sofa. Captain Katherine Fox stood in the doorway, glaring. "Is there something I can do for you, Captain?" he asked after a cursory glance her way. She certainly didn't look happy. "Request permission to speak freely, sir," she growled. Jeff dropped his pen and eyed his XO. He'd faced upset pilots before but this one looked lethal. "Within reason." "At what point were you going to tell us the truth, sir." Jeff rocked back in his chair. "I don't know what you're talking about. Perhaps if you were to be more specific." "Come off it, sir. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Just how long did you intend to keep it a secret?" "I'm assuming you mean my thirty day assignment here," he said with narrowed eyes. He didn't like this sort of interrogation - especially in his own office. "Yes, your... 'assignment'." "That is none of your concern," he snapped, picking up his pen and going back to his paperwork. "I'm just following orders. Everyone in the RDF follows orders, even Colonels. Whomever RDF Command assigns to lead this squadron will find twenty-four qualified Veritech pilots willing to follow orders; including you. Now, if that's all, Captain. You're dismissed." "No, sir. That's *not* all." She took a step closer to the desk. One step was bad enough. Two would certainly be trouble. Three could be grounds for severe discipline. He tried to look unconcerned but knew full well how passionate Lakota women could get about things. Katherine, despite her years of RDF training and conditioning, was still Lakota and might just be reckless enough to take that third step. He had to play this carefully. "Very well, what else is on your mind, Captain?" "Why didn't you tell us you were only here to recruit. We... I thought you were commanding the squadron." Her voice, while still harsh, had lost some of its edge, like she was more hurt than angry. "I agreed to a transfer because I'd heard of your reputation. You care about those you command. You find ways of doing the job with the minimum of casualties, especially your own. I believed you would give me a chance to see action and still get home alive." "Every squadron commander does that," Jeff said in protest with a wave of his hand. "No, sir. That's not true," came a voice from behind Katherine. It was Ona. She and Cindy had returned from lunch just in time to catch their squadron XO's verbal barrage. "I've seen how some commanders throw away the lives of their pilots on futile and unwise actions." She stepped up to stand next to Katherine. Folding her arms, her feet slightly apart, she looked every bit the warrior Amazon her people were known to be. Behind her, he could see several more, mostly new faces, gathering in the main room. Jeff didn't like the odds. All it would take is one or two more in his office and he'd feel trapped. He wondered if this was the way Custer went. "Sir, I joined ready to follow you anywhere. I think I can speak for everyone --" Katherine's voice was interrupted by the phone ringing. Jeff glanced between the women in his office and the phone, debating which offered the least irritation, before picking up the phone. "Thirteen Squadron, Colonel Stuart," he said while still eyeing the women. He momentarily slid a hand over the mouthpiece. "Can I have some privacy, please." He meant for them to leave and close the door. Instead, Ona kicked the door shut with her heel and continued to glare his way. "Jeffrey? This is Rolf Emerson." Jeff grimaced. On top of everything else, he *didn't* need Rolf calling to see how things were going. "Yes, sir?" Jeff swiveled his chair around to give himself at least a little privacy. "I hear you're doing a bang-up job over there." Jeff glanced over his shoulder at the still angry pilots in his office. "I'm glad you think so, sir." "The reason I called is I have good news for you." "I could use some right now." "I've found a commander to replace you." Jeff sat speechless. Here was the break he'd prayed for and it's timing couldn't have been better. He swallowed hard. "Not that it matters but who did you get?" "I think you know him. Lieutenant Colonel Steven Summers." "'Shotgun' Summers?" Jeff gasped. "You can't be serious." "Why not? He's rested and ready to go." "Rolf, he's rested because he had a nervous breakdown six months ago. They had to haul him to the 'nut house' kicking and screaming." "True, but the doctors assure me he's feeling much better now. And don't call it a 'nut house'. That's insensitive to the loonies they've got locked inside." Jeff shook his head. "I must respectfully disagree, sir. He's not a leader. He sits in an office and orders people about." Rolf's voice became condescending. "Jeff, that's what squadron commanders do these days." "Not where *I* come from. A squadron commander is supposed to stay in touch with his people. He's supposed to endure what they endure, eat what they eat, stay awake as long as they do. How else can he tell when they've had enough? How else can he understand what they're going through? You can't do that from behind a desk." "Very impressive, Jeffrey. You ought to put that in your book," Rolf said coolly. "What's the problem? I thought you wanted out? I've just provided you with the chance for retirement. A month from now, you'll be happily camped along the Little Big Horn or whatever, with your lovely squaw at your side waiting for the buffalo to roam." Jeff gripped the phone in one hand and ran another through his hair. There was no way he could retire on Lakota lands after abandoning his squadron right before they were to go into battle. He knew what their response would be. If he was lucky, his wife might still talk to him. It was a sure bet no one else would. "I really wish you'd reconsider," he said softly. "I can't do that. Squadron commanders don't grow on trees, you know." "There's *got* to be someone else." "Nope. No one is scheduled to rotate, there's no one ready for promotion, and there's no one awaiting assignment. Summers is it." There was a pregnant pause before Rolf added: "Unless you can think of someone else." "I can't believe this," Jeff gasped. "Oh, you can do better than that." Realization slapped him like a cold towel. "You son-of-a--" "Colonel, be careful," Rolf warned. "I'm still RDF C-in-C and you're still under my command." "You set me up," Jeff growled. This must have been Rolf's plan all along. Or maybe the General just figured getting him involved with a squadron and letting nature take its course. Either way, he felt screwed. "Now you know me better than that," Rolf said pleasantly. "I still remember the time during the Zentraedi uprising when you conned me into holding a position for twenty-four hours; letting me think I was just holding on until you could organize a relief when all you were really doing was putting together a major offensive," he said, his voice rising with anger. "Okay, maybe I did take advantage of your sense of duty but you gotta admit, the Battle of Butte Ridge was a major victory for Unification Forces." Rolf sounded smug - too smug. "For which you became a hero," Jeff snapped bitterly. "Hey, you received your share of honors. I believe you won the Diamond Star that day." Rolf's voice began to take on an edge, like he was irritated at the way Jeff still viewed the battle where Khyron's lieutenants were soundly defeated. "I paid for that lousy bit of tin foil with the lives of half my squadron." Jeff was practically vibrating with rage. He could still name every man who fell at Butte Ridge, still see their faces and hear their voices. How dare Rolf bring that up. "So, you gonna take this squadron or do I send Summers over?" "Damn right, I will!" he growled. Slamming down the phone, he shot a withering look Katherine's way. "What?" The attractive XO wasn't fazed by her commander's sudden redirection of his anger. She smiled sweetly, her arms still crossed. "Welcome back, sir." "Get outta here," he snapped and turned around to face the window again. "What about Butte Ridge?" He heard Ona ask Katherine. "Come on," Katherine answered, her voice fading as they left the room. "I'll tell you all about it." He heard the door close. The excited voices outside as the two rejoined their companions gnawed at him. "Yeah, tell them about Butte Ridge," he mumbled at the window. "Tell them how I could have pulled out a hundred times and saved lives. Tell them about the odds and how we were written off. Don't forget to tell them how we had to steal ammunition from the dead to keep fighting or how we had to use destroyed Veritechs with their dead or wounded pilots still inside to hide behind. Tell them about the young ones who looked up to me, hoping I'd see they got home alive. Tell them about having to face their mothers, their wives, their children and explain how their loved ones died so Rolf Emerson could become a hero. Go on. Tell them everything. See how that fits with my 'reputation'. Maybe then you'll go back to your safe jobs and live long enough to tell your grandchildren your own stories." Jeff closed his eyes and bit down hard on his lower lip until he tasted blood. "No, I won't let that happen," he said between clenched teeth. "Not this time."