FOX Squadron
                        by G.L. Sandborn
                 Episode 5 - Bar Scenes, Part 2
                                

     The next morning everything seemed normal when Jeff arrived
at work.  Ona and Cindy were waiting out front, as usual,
although the tall Zentraedi looked like she was having trouble
focusing her eyes.  The Mills sisters arrived with Gloria and a
more relaxed-looking Missy only moments behind.  The Fox sisters
arrived as he was unlocking the door.  Flipping on the lights, he
heard a motorcycle pull up.  Had to be that Montoya girl, he
thought.  Whatever else he might think about these girls, this
was certainly turning into a colorful squadron.
     He held a quick assembly in the main room, handed out a few
assignments, and left the rest of the day's organization up to
Katherine.  After all, she was the Exec now.  It was time she
started doing the job.
     Retreating into his office, he closed the door and tried to
get some work done.  It wasn't easy.  Every time he closed his
eyes, he kept feeling Gail, pressed up against him and doing her
best to give him a tonsillectomy.  He knew it wasn't right but he
was only human; subject to all the weaknesses that went with it. 
There was no question in his mind that his sister-in-law had
taken advantage of him.  Had he been single or less faithful to
his wife, he might have pursued her further, possibly to an
evening of unbridled lust.
     Groaning out loud, he forcibly banished such images.  He had
work to do and precious little time to do it.  The clock was
running and he was still short pilots and Veritechs.  He still
had the Veritech requisition forms to check.
     He was successful in concentrating on his paperwork; so much
so that he completely lost track of time.  A knock at his door
offered a break in his labors.
     "In," he barked.
     "Sir?" came Cindy's voice as she opened the door.  "Do you
have time for visitors?"
     "Visitors?  What kind of visitors?"  His was instantly
filled with ominous images of GMP hunting for Lt Robins or high
ranking officers stopping in unannounced to just... 'look
around'.
     "It's your wife, sir."
     "What?" he gasped.  That's impossible.  Wives aren't allowed
on squadron grounds.  Kay knows better than this.
     The door swung the rest of the way open and his wife filed
past Cindy, an unreadable expression on her face.
     "What are you doing here?" he blurted out.  "You're not
allowed in squadron buildings while we have a training
classification."
     "I know Jeffrey, but I need to see you," she said softly,
her expression still unreadable.
     If he was surprised to see his wife, the sight of her
sister, Gail, following in her wake made his heart stop.  Visions
of scalpings quickly scrolled through his head.
     "Hi ya, stud," Gail said seriously.  "We won't be long."
     "Please... please sit down," he stammered.  Glancing at Gail
only revealed she was in her uniform and wearing a serious
expression.  He sagged into his seat and closed his eyes.  He was
toast.
     Cindy softly closed the door and the two women sat across
the desk from him in the office chairs.  Gail, crossed her legs,
allowing the hem on her uniform skirt to rise to breath-taking
heights.  She had incredible legs.
     He hastened to regain his composure.  His wife's continued
enigmatic expression though, had him profoundly worried.
     Kay smoothed her own skirt and looked directly at him, her
eyes narrowed.  "I've never broken the rules before but I felt
this was something so important, I needed to see you right away."
     There it was, he thought.  She knows about the bar, the
kiss, and everything else.  He had heard how wives *always* knew
when another woman had encroached on their husbands.  He silently
cursed himself for allowing it to happen.
     "Gail and I had a long talk this morning."  Kay looked at
her sister.
     Time to beg for mercy, he thought.  "Look, if this is about
last night --"
     "Well, partially," Gail said with a glance at Kay.  "Mostly
it has to do with this squadron."
     Huh?  What?  Now he was confused.  If Kay was here to lower
the boom on him because of what he and Gail did last night, she
was certainly going about it in a strange way.
     Kay sighed and said: "As you know, Gail was going to leave
the RDF for civilian life."  
     Jeff nodded absently, his eyes fixed on his wife.  He didn't
even dare to let them wander towards his sister-in-law.  
     "I know about where you're going and frankly it frightens me
more than any assignment you've had before."
     The assignment?  She was only worried about him going to an
outpost of a base in the Ozarks?  He almost laughed out loud in
relief.  This *wasn't* about him and Gail last night.  He felt
like jumping up and down, waving his arms and yelling how happy
he was.  That is, until he saw his wife's expression.  She
actually looked frightened about something.
     "I've had..."  She looked down at her lap and pursed her
lips.  "Most people call them strong dreams.  We call them
'visions'."
     "A vision quest," Jeff corrected.  "You're telling me you
had a vision quest."  He'd heard about such things for years.  It
was something the Lakota held in high esteem.  Many of her people
spend a lifetime striving to achieve a successful vision quest. 
Most fail.  Yet, here was his wife claiming to have accomplished
such an extraordinary task in a single evening.
     "Yesterday afternoon, after I talked to you on the phone, I
felt tired but not sleepy.  I don't know what made me do it but I
sealed the apartment and burned a little sage."
     So that was what smelled so odd, he thought.  He remembered
how, at the time, he just considered it fortunate because it
masked whatever traces of Gail's perfume that might have lingered
on his clothing.  It would also explain why she was so quiet last
night.  He'd figured it had to do with knowing about Gail and the
bar.
     "I fell asleep on the sofa and dreamed.  I saw you, alone,
in the darkness.  All around you were... beings, evil beings like
a dark cloud.  You had no weapons.  You had no way of protecting
yourself."  She grimaced like just telling this tale was too
painful.  Gail reached over and placed a hand on her arm in a
comforting manner.  "It attacked over and over again.  You fought
back as best you could but the darkness was too strong.  When you
were just about to be overwhelmed, many young eagles came and
beat back the darkness.  One, lighter colored than the rest, gave
you a lance and disappeared, its spirit going into the lance,
causing it to flame so bright the darkness retreated.  When the
darkness returned, stronger than before, it quickly surrounded
you.  Again, it closed in, so that you could make out... shapes. 
I saw you fighting but couldn't see exactly what..."  She took a
deep breath and shook her head.  "That's when I woke up," she
gasped, her lips drawn into a thin line.  "I didn't finish the
quest, Jeffrey.  I don't know how it ends."
     Kay slumped back in her chair, looking miserable over the
shame of failing to complete the one dream journey she'd ever
had.  Gail slid over and took her sister in her arms.
     "Jeffrey, I've spent all morning trying to convince her it
was only a dream.  But she's adamant it was a vision quest. 
She's convinced something terrible will happen to you," Gail said
holding her sister.  Her hand slowly stroked Kay's long black
hair, trying to soothe and comfort her.
     Jeff sat stunned.  He'd heard about vision quests and
understood how strongly her people felt about them.  They were
absolute.  There was no way you could avoid their results.  
     "Kay, if you don't know the ending, maybe it turns out okay. 
Maybe I survive.  I always have before."  He tried to reason with
his wife but knew it was fruitless.  She was convinced it was an
evil omen.
     "I won't stay in some room far away and wait to hear of your
death.  I won't!" Kay demanded with a snarl, her eyes flashing.
     Kay's outburst triggered visions of his own mother, enduring
his father's long absences.  Her reaction to the news of his
father's disappearance was still chilling.  He saw what it did to
her; the long months of not talking, spending all her time in her
bedroom.  It was something to avoid repeating at all costs.
     "I've talked to RDF Headquarters," Gail said.  "Since this
base is in the North American Sector, Kay is entitled to
accompany you --"
     "No way!" Jeff gasped.  "I'm not taking my wife into some
hell-hole of an outpost.  It's too dangerous."
     "It's dangerous for you too," Gail insisted.
     "I'm paid to take those risks."
     "She's paid her way.  She's had to watch you leave for
months at a time, never knowing if each departure was the last
time she would see you."  Gail forced a tiny smile.  "Jeffrey,
she's earned the right."
     Jeff continued to shake his head.  He couldn't conceive of
his wife sharing the dangers he'd faced and was going to face. 
He'd be constantly worried about her safety.
     "The base is secure and well within the controlled sector,"
Gail reasoned.  "She'll be fine."
     "How do you know?"
     "Because I'll be there with her."
     "Oh, no you won't," Jeff warned.  "Civilians aren't allowed
on an RDF outpost."
     "True.  But Maintenance Officers are."
     Jeff rocked back in his seat like he'd just been struck. 
"Gail, this is nuts.  You're getting out of this madness."
     "Honey, you can't tell me what to do."  Gail's eyes
narrowed.  "I've already cleared it with General Emerson.  As
soon as I sign the papers, I'm your new Maintenance Officer. 
I'll be there and so will Kay.  And there's nothing you can do
about it."
     "Kay...?"  His voice failed him when their eyes met.  What
could he say?  He could feel her desperation.
     Sweeping her long hair back with her hands, she sniffed and
swallowed hard.  "Jeffrey, please don't send me away.  I promise
I'll stay out of the way.  I won't interfere, or question, or..." 
Her voice trailed off.  He could see her taking gulps of air in
tiny spasms.  "Please, I have to be there," she whispered.
     Jeff covered his face with a hand, his fingers rubbing a
sweaty temple.  What Gail had said was certainly true.  There was
no known threats nearby and the base was mostly underground.  It
would also be guarded by a security detachment; probably a few
Destroids and infantry types.  The perimeter would be screened
and electronically guarded.  Short of an air assault, the base
should be the safest place in the Ozarks.  He looked again at his
wife's pleading eyes.  He knew he wasn't going to keep her away. 
If he tried, she'd just follow on her own.  She might as well be
inside the fence rather than camped somewhere outside.
     He sighed heavily.  "Very well.  I just want you to know I
don't like this but..."  He sighed again.  "Okay.  I'll arrange
for transport.  You'll need to see to the packing."
     A tiny smile of relief crossed her face as she nodded
agreement.
     "Good," Gail said standing up.  "I like it when a family can
talk things out."  Jeff and Kay shot her incredulous looks.
     "You better see Lt Wallace about the proper papers," Jeff
said standing up and heading for the door.  "She's very
efficient."
     He opened the door and was only mildly surprised to find
Cindy standing there, clipboard in hand.
     "I've got the paperwork ready for your signature, sir,"
Cindy said in an official voice.
     Jeff turned to Gail.  "See what I mean?"
     "I'm impressed."  Gail helped her sister to her feet and
supported her with a reassuring smile.  Kay looked like a woman
who'd just fought for her life and won.  In a way, she had. 
Jeff's years in the RDF had taken its toll on her as well.
     "Just sign here," Cindy said, indicating a line on the form.
     Jeff signed.
     Cindy flipped over the page and pointed to another form. 
"And here."  Then another page.  "And here."  And finally one
last page.  "...And here."
     "Cindy, what am I signing?"
     Lt Wallace blinked.  "I thought you knew.  They're the
transfer papers for Captain Lynn, Sergeant Crowkiller, Corporal
Crowkiller, and a three day pass for me."
     Jeff's jaw dropped.  "What?" he gasped.
     "It's only three days, sir," Cindy protested.  "I haven't
had a day off in three months."
     "What do you mean we just accepted the Crowkiller sisters?"
Jeff demanded.
     "Uh oh," Gail said, disengaging herself from her sister.
     Jeff stepped out into the main room and glanced around.  The
place was empty.  "Where is everybody?"
     "Oh, Captain Fox assigned everyone to get the hangar and the
day room cleaned up."  Cindy glanced at the clipboard.  "Does
this mean I don't get my three day pass?"
     Jeff wasn't listening.  "Where are the Crowkiller sisters?"
     Cindy shrugged.  "I don't know.  Sergeant Crowkiller asked
where Captain Parino was.  I told her she was in the hangar with
Lt Mills and Sgt Montoya.  Then I brought you the papers to be
signed."
     "Jeffrey?" Gail said, her eyes wide.  "You don't think..."
     Without answering, Jeff bolted for the hangar, Gail close on
his heels.  Cindy barely had time to get out of the way, pressed
up against the door, her clipboard clutched to her chest.
     Jeff burst through the office doors and leaped over the
headquarters steps railing.  If what Karen said last night was
any indication, there was going to be trouble in the hangar - if
it hadn't happened already.
     Approaching the open hangar, he slowed just enough to listen
carefully.  Instead of the sounds of a fight in progress, he only
heard his own running feet and those of Gail right behind him. 
Skidding to a halt in front of the open hangar doors, he paused
as his eyes became accustomed to the diminished light inside.
     The first thing he saw was Ona holding a bloody rag against
the side of her mouth.  She looked totally unconcerned at his
presence.
     "What's going on in here?" he demanded, entering the hangar,
his voice echoing ominously.
     "What do you mean, sir?" Daisy said, leaning against a
crate, her arms crossed.
     He was about to clarify his question when he noticed Karen
Crowkiller on the floor, her back against a crate.  She was
blinking like someone just resuming consciousness.  "What
happened to her?"
     Nancy Montoya ambled slowly around another crate.  "Not
sure.  Must have fainted."
     "Yeah, that's it.  She must have fainted," repeated Daisy.
     Gail pushed past Jeff and knelt over the dazed Crowkiller. 
A quick examination and she nodded that Karen would be all right. 
The girl was just little disoriented.
     Gloria and Virginia slowly filtered forward from the back of
the hangar, drawn by Jeff's booming voice.
     "Did anyone see what happened?" Jeff demanded.  It was
obvious to him what happened.  Something, probably Karen's mouth,
sparked a fight and the oldest Crowkiller sister got the worst of
it.  Ona, still dabbing her lip with the bloody cloth remained
silent.
     "What happened to your lip?" he asked the Zentraedi.
     Her eyes roamed over the others before looking directly at
Jeff.  "Bit my lip," she said flatly.
     "Must have been some bite," Jeff said, taking Ona's chin in
his hand and turning her face for a better look.  There were
tell-tale abrasions on her cheek.
     "Zentraedi have sharp teeth," she replied, still
expressionless but with a distinct edge to her voice.
     "I see."  Jeff eyed each of the squadron members before
looking at Karen.  "Let's get her inside."
     "Help her up," Gail ordered, standing up and motioning to
Nancy and Daisy.
     Nancy and Daisy exchanged looks before shrugging their and
reaching for the slowly moving Karen.  It took them two tries to
get the girl to her feet.
     "Bring her inside," Gail snapped.  "I'll check her over in
there."
     They struggled with the barely ambulatory Karen; almost
dragging her out of the hangar.  Gail glared at the other girls
before following.
     "I'm going to get to the bottom of this," he warned before
turning to leave.  He couldn't be sure Daisy and Nancy weren't
telling the truth.  Maybe Karen did faint in the hangar.  Then
again, maybe the Yorkies will throw a 'We love the Zentraedi Day'
too.

     "He knows," Gloria said with a fearful look.
     "So?" Virginia replied.  "She asked for it."
     Ona turned to the remaining squadron members, regarding them
with a curious expression.  "You don't have to cover for me."
     "Why not?" Virginia demanded.  "You're one of us now.  Daisy
says you're okay.  That's good enough for me."
     "Me too," echoed Gloria.  "Besides, we honestly didn't see
anything."
     "Yeah, we just *heard* it happen."  Virginia glanced at
Gloria before fixing Ona with a frown.  "I don't understand the
Zentraedi language but if *how* she said it is any indication of
what it meant, I'd have decked her too."
     Ona shook her head.  "Striking a fellow squadron member is
inexcusable.  It's punishable by a year in the brig and
dishonorable discharge."
     Virginia sighed and slapped one of the wood crates. 
"Dammit, Parino, don't you have any pride?  You've only been
alive for, what, three years?  Well, I've been alive for eighteen
and let me tell you, I've endured racial slurs for every one of
those."  She took an angry step towards the tall Zentraedi and
began to mimic slanderous voices.  "Look at the Indian.  Where's
your feathers?  Do a rain dance, red-skin."  Flapping her arms in
resignation she shook her head.  "I've heard them all too often. 
I'm considered less than a person because of who my father and
mother were.  We're called 'savages', just like the Zentraedi.
Well, I'm sick of it and so should you."
     "That doesn't forgive my actions," Ona insisted, tossing the
now unneeded rag on top of another crate.  She couldn't
understand why these girls were so eager to overlook what she
did.  Worse yet, they appeared ready to lie for her.  As much as
she appreciated the gesture, it wasn't proper.
     "You just don't get it, do you," Gloria said with a sad
shake of her head.  "I've spent the last ten years denying who I
am because of all the abuse."  She took a handful of her frosted
hair and held it out.  "I did whatever I could to look white.  I
dressed white, I colored my hair, and did everything I could to
act white.  I still got treated like an Indian.   
     "Now, along comes Colonel Stuart who respects us and treats
us like regular people.  So maybe I'm not ashamed any more.  I'm
damn proud to be in this squadron."
     "To have one of our own tossing shit at you just because
you're a Zentraedi, made us all ashamed.  She was treating you
just like white people treat us."  Virginia's voice dropped along
with here eyes.  "It's not fair."
     "Captain Parino," Gloria said moving to stand next to
Virginia.  "You did the right thing.  I don't care what the
consequences are.  You're one of us now."  She finished with a
welcome smile.  Virginia nodded her agreement.
     Ona studied their faces before looking out the hangar door. 
She remembered in South America, in her old squadron, how the
human population treated her and the other Zentraedi with
suspicion and even hostility.  She remembered how it felt; the
uncomfortable feeling of rejection, the children running to their
houses and slamming the doors whenever they appeared in town.  It
was confusing, frightening, and insulting.  Like her Zentraedi
sisters, she tried to cope by keeping to themselves and staying
on base.  For the most part, it worked.  But she could never
shake the feeling that she was an unwelcome outsider.  She was
among humans now.  There was no way of keeping to herself.  She
had to interact with the rest of the squadron.
     With a sigh, she said in a soft voice: "Thank you.  It's
been a long time since I felt at home anywhere.  I just hope I
haven't screwed it up with what I did."
     Virginia glanced at Gloria.  "Leave that to us."

     Jeff watched as they helped Karen into one of the empty
offices.  She was walking better now and protesting that she
could make it on her own.  Just in case, Gail continued to shadow
her and the others, making certain they all got to where she
intended.
     He paused to glance around the main room.  Cindy was back at
her desk industriously studying her computer and acting like she
didn't notice anything unusual.  He looked over at his open
office door and saw Kay peeking out from around the corner. 
Their eyes met for only a moment before she quietly closed the
door.  She knew from his expression this was one of those times
she shouldn't get involved.
     "Wow," Cindy said softly.
     Drawn by his Admin Officer's statement, Jeff leaned over to
see what she was doing.  On the screen was the specifications for
the new VF-4 Lightning III Variable Fighter; the latest and
greatest product of Stonewell Bellcom and Shinnakasu Industries. 
It was faster, more maneuverable, and better armed than the old
VF-1 series.
     "Think we can get some of those?" she asked wistfully. 
"They're cool looking."
     "I doubt it," Jeff replied, hoping he wasn't sounding too
negative.  "It's just entering production.  We're probably last
in line for delivery."
     "Too bad."  Cindy changed screens back to her logistics
spreadsheet.  "I'd really like to get our guys the best."
     Jeff patted Cindy's shoulder.  "I'm sure everyone
appreciates your efforts.  Just do what you can and stop dreaming
of things we won't get."
     "Thank you, sir."  Her voice sounded disappointed, like a
fighter pilot asked not to push herself to the limit.  "Oh, I
almost forgot."  She pulled a tiny slip of paper off her desk. 
"General Emerson called.  He wants to talk to you right away."
     Jeff looked between the message and the door to the office
where Karen and the others were.
     "He said it was important," Cindy insisted.
     With a sigh, he took the paper and started for his office. 
No, he couldn't talk to the General there.  His wife was still
inside.  His only option for some privacy, other than the pay
phone out front, was Katherine's office.
     "Just do your best," he reminded Cindy as he passed her on
the way to his Exec's office.

     Karen was still a little groggy when Gail snapped an ammonia
capsule under her nose.  Her reaction was immediate.  Coughing
and choking, she pushed Gail's hand away.
     "I'm okay," she growled.
     Gail removed the irritant and examined the girl closely. 
One eye was swollen and her upper lip was unnaturally puffy.  If
she had fainted, she certainly struck a number of things on the
way to the floor - a whole lot of things. 
     "What happened out there?" Gail demanded.
     "She passed out," Daisy insisted.
     "I asked *her*."  Gail's eyes narrowed.  Daisy got the
message.
     Karen glanced at the two other pilots in the room.  Daisy
was hovering dangerously close and Nancy leaned against the
opposite wall, her arms crossed and staring at her with a look
that could melt steel.
     "It's like they said," she mumbled, looking down at her lap. 
"I must have fainted."
     "You ever have fainting spells before?" Gail asked, still
glaring at Daisy.
     "No, ma'am."
     Gail took a deep breath and slowly let it out as she looked
between Nancy and Daisy.  Turning again to Karen, she slowly
shook her head.  "If that's your story, I'll accept it.  In Skull
Squadron, we always accepted the word of our pilots."  She paused
to look at each of the girls.  "Because they never lied to us. 
I'm going to recommend to Colonel Stuart that you get checked out
at the hospital before restoring you to flight status."
     "Yes, ma'am," Karen mumbled even softer than before.  Her
eyes never left her lap.
     "I'll make the call and get you some ice for that face,"
Gail said standing and tossing the used capsule in the trash. 
She looked directly at Daisy before saying: "I trust you'll be
safe in here while I'm gone."
     "No problem, ma'am.  She's among friends."
     Despite Daisy's assurance, Gail was reluctant to leave Karen
alone.  There was more going on here than she knew and *that*
bothered her.

     As soon as Gail closed the door behind her, Nancy pushed
herself away from the wall and shook her head.
     "That was unbelievably stupid what you pulled out there,"
she said with disgust.
     "What was the idea of picking a fight with Capt Parino
anyway?" Daisy added.
     Karen painfully shifted her position on the couch, grimacing
at the use of her arms.  "It's personal."
     "Oh, I see.  You join a new squadron and pick a fight with
every Captain you meet, is that it?"  Nancy resumed leaning on
the wall with both arms and legs crossed in a non-threatening
manner.
     "I don't like Zentraedi," Karen insisted.
     "Well, you better start liking them.  Capt Parino is
probably going to be a flight leader.  We may even get more
Zentraedi in this squadron before its all over."  Daisy walked
over to the window and looked out.
     Karen glared at her lap, like she was looking at a hated
Zentraedi right then.  "I could have taken her."
     "In your dreams," Nancy growled.  "You got in one punch
before Capt Parino was all over you like a bad rash."
     With a loud sigh, Daisy walked over to the sofa, leaned over
with her hands on her knees so Karen could clearly hear every
word and see the expression on her face.  "I'm going to cut you
some slack here because you're new.  But remember, the next time
you try something like that, I won't pull her off you.  I don't
know how you did it or what you said in Zentraedi to her but if I
hadn't intervened, you'd be on your way to the hospital or
possibly the morgue right now."  She leaned in even closer. 
"Don't you *ever* do something like that again."
     "If Ona doesn't finish you, we will," Nancy added.
     Karen looked between them and saw the determination on their
faces.  She instinctively sagged back on the sofa.  They looked
like they meant it.
     "I don't understand you.  Why are you sticking up for her?
She's the enemy."
     "Enemy?" Daisy asked with a curious expression.  "There are
no enemies in this squadron."
     "She's Zentraedi," Karen insisted.  "They only want to kill
and keep on killing."
     "Not this one," Nancy said.  "She's pretty mellow for an
alien that's only been alive for three years."
     "They're killers!"
     Nancy snorted.  "I sure hope so.  I'd rather have a killer
watching my six than a kitten."
     "Why are you so hateful towards the Zentraedi?  I've met
others who were in the Amazon and they seem pretty balanced to
me."  Daisy cocked her head and stared directly into Karen's
eyes.  She really couldn't understand this at all.
     Karen turned her head and closed her eyes, like bad memories
were threatening to overwhelm her.  "It's personal."
     "We've all lost friends, relatives, and people we knew to
rebels of all stripes.  What you faced before were rebel
Zentraedi.  Like rebel humans, they have no regard for you, me,
or anyone else."  Daisy stood up and headed for the door. 
Stopping, she turned and added: "You better get a grip, young
lady.  Everyone here, including that Zentraedi out there, is
ready to fight for any other member of this squadron.  I hear
you're a pretty good fighter yourself.  We can use you.  But only
if you're willing to be one of us."
     Nancy followed her friend to the door, pausing to give Karen
a curious expression.  It wasn't hostile or even disapproving. 
It was more hopeful and encouraging; a look that begged Karen's
change of heart.  "I wish you'd tell us the truth.  We can't help
if you hold back.  You ask us to trust you when you act like you
don't trust us."
     "You don't understand," Karen mumbled, hugging herself and
setting her jaw.
     Nancy released the door knob and crossed her arms.  "Then
make me understand."
     Karen, however, slowly shook her head and drew a ragged
breath.  "I can't," she whispered.
     There was a long pause as Nancy eyed the younger sergeant. 
She finally sighed loudly and yanked open the door.  Pausing for
a moment, hoping Karen would relent, she finally left the room
and quietly closed the door behind her.
     Karen sagged into the sofa.  It was going to be hard to
accept the big Zentraedi as an equal.  She reminded her of too
many close encounters with devastating results.  She liked Daisy
and Nancy; they were her kind of people.  She even had grudging
respect for Colonel Stuart; he had principles and scrupulously
stuck by them.
     Closing her eyes, she tried to will away the pain; both that
of her swollen face and that in her heart.

     "What's so important, Rolf," Jeff said into the phone's
mouthpiece.  His voice sounded tired, even to him.
     "Well, I've got good news and bad news."  Rolf Emerson
sounded too cheery.
     "I'm not in the mood for this, Rolf.  Spill it."
     "My, aren't we the grumpy one today," Rolf chuckled.  "I
better give you the good news first.  I know your people are
probably anxious to get back in the air, so I pulled a few
strings and got you six Veritechs."
     There was a long pause as Jeff's shock wore off.  "Six?  You
only got six?"
     "Hey, be grateful, they were the last six I could squeeze
out of the Rehab Detachment.  You wouldn't believe how stingy
they are."
     "Rehabs?" Jeff gasped.  "You can't be serious.  I expected
hand-me-downs of some sort but to get stuff pulled out of the
junk yard --"
     "They're not out of a junk yard, Jeff.  They're completely
rebuilt; almost like new."  Emerson's voice sounded irritated
that his generosity was being questioned.
     Jeff sighed loudly.  "I sure hope so.  The Ozarks is no
place for questionable equipment.  When can I expect these
wonders to arrive?"
     "Tomorrow morning."
     "Fine," Jeff said, his voice betraying his relief.  "We'll
be ready for them."
     "Now for the bad news."
     Jeff groaned.  Here it comes.
     "The GMP has been here twice today.  They want two people. 
Lt Robins you know about.  They also want whomever beat up their
operative at a certain mission about a mile off base.  They claim
the assailant was a tall female with blue hair.  You wouldn't
know anyone like that, would you?"  Just the way he asked told
Jeff they both knew who the culprit was.
     "I don't believe this," Jeff said with another sigh.  "Don't
those people have better things to do?"
     "Apparently not.  Anyway, I'm shutting down the base.  That
should keep the GMP at bay - for a little while anyway."
     "Thanks.  I guess we'll just have to lay low until they give
up."
     General Emerson chuckled.  "Jeff, they *never* give up."
     "Yeah, I suppose so."  Jeff was well aware of the GMP's
tenacity, especially when they think their quarry is less than a
real threat.  His girls would have to watch each other's backs
from now on.
     "I'm sorry, Colonel.  That's the best I can do."  Emerson
sounded genuinely depressed that he couldn't do more.  Shutting
down non-RDF access to the base and warning Jeff was the limit of
his options.
     Jeff hung up the phone with a feeling of foreboding. 
Instead of just one pilot being hunted by the GMP, he now had
two.  That would mean someone better keep an eye on both.
     The phone rang again.  Against his better judgement, he
picked it up.  "Colonel Stuart."
     "Major Vera is on the line," Cindy said.
     "Fine.  Put him through."
     There was a soft 'click' and Major Vera's voice boomed
through the earpiece.  "Colonel?  I've found you a pilot."
     "Only one?"  Again, Jeff hoped his voice adequately masked
his disappointment.
     "Well, after Capt Fox stopped by the other day, I got to
thinking about what she said."
     "What did she say?"
     "Something about how the squadron was shaping up to be an
extension of her Lakota tribe.  At the time, I thought she was
just making a joke but one of my clerks set me straight."
     Now *this* was really confusing.  Just what could that clerk
know about Katherine or her people?  "I don't get it," he finally
admitted.
     "I kept looking for men who were interested in a tough duty
assignment.  That's a tough kettle of fish, if you know what I
mean."
     Jeff was going to correct the good Major but figured it
would only lead to a protracted discussion of mixed metaphors. 
Besides, what Pat *meant* was certainly true.  Jeff had struck
out with everyone he knew and was on the verge of giving up.
     "Anyway, I forgot to check the last Veritech Flight Training
Class that Captain Fox taught, on account of them being totally
combat inexperienced," Major Vera said.
     "And what did you find?"  Jeff sometimes hated talking to
Major Vera.  He tended to ramble, taking forever to get to his
point.  For some reason, today his rambling was like a leaky
faucet; drip-drip-drip.
     "There *is* one young lady, a Lakota I believe, who
graduated a few months ago and got posted to a squadron in
Australia.  They really didn't need any more pilots, at least
that's what they said.  Anyway, she sat around doing nothing for
a couple of months.  I can tell you, doing nothing in Australia
is about as bad an experience as I can imagine.  I mean, after
you've seen the kangaroos and koala bears, what's left?  Oh, the
beaches are okay, if you go for that sort of thing, but there's
nothing there but bars and --"     
     "Vera!  Get to the point!"
     "Huh?  Oh, yes, the point.  Very good."  The Major cleared
his throat.  Even that irritated Jeff.  "Anyway, she's now back
here looking for a posting closer to home and, of course, I
naturally thought of you."
     "How nice," Jeff said with mock sweetness.  He could almost
see his hands going around the Major's throat and choking the
punch-line out of him.
     "She's really a nice girl.  We went to dinner the other
night; nothing fancy, just a meal at the Officer's Club and a
slow walk down by the Motor Pool."
     "Wow, you really know how to show a girl a good time." 
Jeff's hands tightened around the phone, like it was the Major's
neck.
     "She's a cutie, that's for sure."
     "That's... that's great, Pat.  Now about --"
     "Not very tall but then I like them that way on account I'm
not very tall either.  Anyway, she has the softest hands --"
     "PAT!"
     "Huh?"
     Jeff took a deep breath to collect himself.  "Is she willing
to transfer?"
     "Of course."  Maj Vera's voice sounded like he couldn't
believe Jeff didn't understand.  "She should be over there by
now."
     Jeff blew out softly.  "Fine.  Thank you, Pat."
     "Hey, take good care of her.  She promised to write me from
wherever you guys wind up."  He chuckled.  "Naturally, we all
know the Ozarks thing is just a cover story for where you're
*really* going."
     "Where are we really going?"
     "Haven't a clue, old boy, but I'm sure it's a quiet, cushy
job with no fighting.  Hey, maybe I'll plan a trip to visit once
you get settled."
     "Fine, Pat.  We'll make sure the Motor Pool is vacant when
you and your sweetie go for another walk."
     Maj Vera chuckled again.  "You're such a kidder, Colonel."
     "Yes, I am," Jeff said before hanging up the phone.  He
wondered if going through the RDF Personnel Office was such a
good idea after all.  He'd probably have done better putting an
ad in the paper.
     Opening the door to leave, he was startled to find Cindy
standing there holding out a clipboard and a pen.  "Just sign
here," she said indicating the paper on her clipboard.
     Jeff took the pen but hesitated.  "What am I signing this
time?"
     "Request for R17324/B2 Requisition Forms that are supposed
to replace the R17324/B1 forms we were issued instead of the
R17320/A7 forms we need to get the R17324/B2 forms," said matter-of-factly.
     "The what?"
     Cindy sighed and started over.  "It's a request for --"
     Jeff stopped her with a raised hand.  "On second thought, I
don't want to know."
     "Very sensible, sir."
     Jeff signed.  "That all?"
     Cindy started flipping papers over on her clipboard.  "Just
the Daily Report, the final Squadron Inventory Report, the
Protoculture Storage Clearance Form, the preliminary Inspection
Report on our Day Room, the Roster Verification Report, and a
Temporary Signature Stamp Request that covers us until the
R17324/B2 Requisition Forms arrive so we can fill out a Permanent
Signature Stamp Request so you don't have to sign forms anymore. 
After that, you only have to initial to prove the stamp is
valid."
     "Oh?  That's all?" Jeff said sarcastically.
     "Well, there's the transfer papers for Lieutenant Mary Cook-Lynn."
     "Who?"
     "Major Vera's girlfriend."
     "Do I even get a chance to talk to her?"
     "Why?  You haven't talked to half the people we've signed up
as it is.  I just figured you'd be happy if they could walk and
chew gum at the same time."
     "And can she?"
     "Oh, yes, sir," Cindy said with a broad smile.  "She blows
bubbles too."
     "Wonderful," Jeff answered in phoney delight.  "Does she do
it while flying?"
     "I don't know.  You want me to ask?"
     "Never mind.  Just file the papers and tell me where Capt
Fox is."
     "Not sure, sir.  She mentioned something about having a lead
on another pilot."
     Jeff shook his head in resignation.  "Yea verily, she goeth
forth and our number multiplies."
     "Is that, like, from the bible or something?" Cindy asked.
     Jeff gave her a strange look.  "The Colonel Stuart version."
     "I see," Cindy said, turning to leave.  "I'll have to read
that some time."


     Casper wasn't a very large town.  Located a few miles
outside Yellowstone RDF Base, it was a mere shadow of its
previous self.  Between the wars, the Zentraedi assault, and the
general depopulation of the region, it was a wonder the place
existed at all.
     Still, as the only town near a major military installation,
it had more bars, bordellos, and pawn shops than any other
municipality in the post-war era.  
     Block after block, dens of pleasure vied with retreats of
salvation; purveyors of every conceivable vice dueled for the
attentions of the bored, the confused, and the hopeless.  Paths
of the ten thousand or so permanent inhabitants intertwined with
the hundreds of wanderers, troublemakers, and lost souls who came
and went in a never-ending stream of changing faces and fortunes. 
Miners from the nearby mountains and farmers from the flatlands
to the east used the town as a place to sell the fruits of their
labors, buy the necessities of life, and provide themselves with
a little entertainment along the way.
     It was into this volatile mix Katherine and Samantha Fox
drove their aging vehicle in search of another pilot for their
ranks.  Night was falling by the time they pulled up in front of
the last bar on the far side of town.  They'd been searching for
a particular pilot since noon; visiting every establishment they
could find that served alcoholic beverages.
     "Well, this better be it," Samantha said with a sigh. 
"Otherwise, we're out of luck."
     Katherine nodded before opening her door.  The tiny dome
light flickered once and blinked out for the last time.  She
froze, her eyes on the dead light.
     "I told you we need a newer car," Samantha said with a look
of disgust.
     "Sam, we're going to the Ozarks.  We won't need a car
there."  Katherine congratulated herself on such a sensible
answer.  There were still arrangements to be made for one of her
cousins to pick up the vehicle once they'd left but that wasn't
her concern this evening.  They still had three weeks in
Yellowstone.
     The sisters, their uniforms appearing as rumpled as their
spirits, stepped up on the raised sidewalk and paused in front of
a bar called: The Big MAC.
     "What do you think?" Samantha asked timidly while eyeing the
pealing paint, faded signs, and spit-covered sidewalk.  Most of
the windows had been broken out and replaced with small squares
of plywood.  It looked like the perfect place to go and get
mugged.
     "We've been in worse places," Katherine answered with a
shrug.  "I wonder why it's called 'The Big MAC'?"
     Samantha sighed and headed for the front door.  "Probably
because the owner's name is Mac."
     If the outside of the establishment was intimidating, the
inside was downright daunting.  Dimly lit, reeking of stale
tobacco smoke and beer, the bar resembled something that should
have been torn down years ago.  There were few patrons, just a
couple of old men playing cards in the corner, a younger man
passed out on a table in the middle, and a couple of middle-aged
miner-types hunched over the bar nursing their drinks like
veterans.  Over damaged and taped together speakers above the
bar, Lynn Minmai's voice crooned a melancholy ballad.
     "Welcome, ladies," came a cheerful voice from behind the
bar.  The sisters turned to see a middle-aged, balding man
wearing a large white bar-apron over a well-used royal blue 
t-shirt.  Wiping off a place at the bar, he motioned for them to
come over and sit on the aging stools that offered little more
than a way of getting their feet off the stained and sticky
floor.
     Katherine nodded to Samantha's questioning look and followed
her sister to the bar.
     "You're a little early," the man said with a wide grin; his
teeth showing through a thin beard.  "We don't usually get ladies
in here until after nine.  Please, make yourselves comfortable. 
What can I get you?"
     Katherine slid onto one of the stools and eyed the men
hunched over the bar.  Their eyes swept over her like a flock of
hungry vultures.  "Nothing right now, thank you.  We're looking
for someone."
     The bartender's smile disappeared in an instant.  "You're
not with RDF Security, are you?" he asked suspiciously.  "We
don't want no trouble around here."
     "No, we're just trying to find someone and have reason to
believe she's here."
     "She?" the bartender asked with raised eyebrows, his smile
returning with their assurances.
     "Yes, a Veritech pilot."
     "Well...," the bartender said scratching his short beard. 
"I might be able to help you... if you're sure you're not RDF
Security."
     "Quite sure," Samantha said, easing herself onto another
stool.  It took her two tries to fold over enough of the torn and
taped plastic covering to be comfortable.
     "Okay, who?"  The bartender still looked a little
suspicious, placed both hands on the bar and leaned closer so
that the odors that surrounded the sisters now included human
sweat.
     "Captain Liz Littlebear," Katherine said.
     "You lookin' for old Liz, eh?"  He chuckled and shook his
head.  "You family or sumpin?"
     "Not really.  We just have some business with her."
     "I donno.  She owe you money?"
     "We just want to talk to her about transferring to our
squadron," Katherine said leaning back enough to draw what passed
for a clean breath in the smothering bar environment.
     The bartender's face flashed a grimace.  "Why don't you
folks leave her alone?  She's been through enough."
     Katherine exchanged a quick look with her sister.  "We know
all about her experiences."
     The big man sighed.  "If you did, you'd know enough to leave
her alone."  He frowned down at the bar.  "But, I suppose you two
aren't leaving until you talk to her.  I doubt you'll have any
luck."  He pointed to a figure at the far end of the bar. 
"That's her down there."
     Both sisters leaned over to see a woman perched on the last
stool on the end, hunched over the bar, her long black hair
forming an effective curtain to the outside world.  Dressed in
worn blue jeans, a long-sleeved light-weight shirt and brown
cowboy boots, she looked like a drifter lost in an alcoholic
haze.  The toe of one of her boots slowly moved in time to the
Minmai song.  Her head moved only enough to tell she was totally
lost in the music.
     "She's here every evening," the bartender added with a sad
shake of his head.
     "How can she afford that?" Samantha gasped.  Knowing full
well the cost of post-war alcohol, she couldn't figure out how
the Captain managed on her salary.
     "She buys a few and I give her a few more on the house."
     "That's very generous of you," Katherine noted, never taking
her eyes off the slowly nodding figure.
     "Yeah, well, I can sympathize with her.  Drove a MAC II in
the big war."  He paused to rap his knuckles against his thigh
causing a light metallic sound.  "That's where I got this."
     "How late does she usually stay?"
     The bartender shrugged.  "Oh, not too late.  She staggers
out around midnight or so.  Stays over at one of the flop houses
nearer the base so she doesn't have to sneak past the gate
guards.  I understand all she has to do is sign for it and the
RDF pays."
     Katherine shook her head.  Liz must be pretty far gone for
her to resort to this sort of life.  She began to wonder if their
search was in vain.  "Well, we'd really like to talk to her
anyway."
     "Suit yourself," the bartender said with a shrug.  "It's
still early so she's probably not too far gone for an intelligent
conversation."
     Katherine thanked the bartender and motioned for her sister
to follow her over.  They were careful how they approached the
sullen Captain.
     "Captain Littlebear?" Katherine asked in a soft voice,
tilting her head over to try and see the Captain's reaction.
     "Go away," came a low voice from behind the curtain of hair.
     "I'm Captain Katherine Fox and I'd like to talk to you about
a possible transfer to our squadron."
     Liz picked up the shot glass from the bar.  It disappeared
behind her hair, only to return a moment later partially drained
of its contents.  She made no other moves, her toe kept moving in
time to the music.  "I'm not interested."
     "Oh, then you wouldn't be interested in joining Daisy Mills
and Nancy Montoya either."  Katherine crossed her arms and hoped
the inducement of former associates would do the trick.
     Sweeping the curtain of hair aside with a shapely hand, Liz
looked at her visitors through puffy, blood-shot eyes.  Her
expression never changed.  "How did you convince *them* to join?"
     Katherine, shaken by the Veritech pilot's appearance,
hesitated.  Even in the dim light of the bar she could see scars
on what would otherwise be a most beautiful face.  It was obvious
this pilot had seen some heavy-duty action in her short life.  "I
understand your squadron was disbanded."
     Liz turned back to her drink, her hair returning to its
previous concealing position.  The drink again disappeared behind
the screen, this time returning empty.  "Hey, Mac!  Gimmie
another."
     The bartender thumped his way over and poured her glass
full.  He looked at Katherine and shrugged before returning to
wipe some semi-clean glasses with a stained bar towel.
     The glass made another trip behind the screen of hair. 
"What do you know about my squadron?" she asked in a low accusing
growl.
     "I know you were posted to the Scandinavia Quadrant,"
Katherine said, sliding onto the stool next to Liz.  "There was
some kind of ambush and the squadron was disbanded afterwards."
     "Then you know all you need to know," Liz answered in a
clipped voice that dripped with irritation.
     The Fox sisters looked at each other and hesitated.  Talking
to Liz was like talking to a brick wall.
     "We're going somewhere closer to home; somewhere you can get
away to see your family."  Katherine leaned closer, hoping the
pilot wouldn't do anything physical.
     Instead, Liz snorted and shook her head.  "My family," she
growled.  "Why would I want to see them?"
     "Surely, there's someone at home you'd want to see on
occasion," Katherine offered.
     Liz slowly raised her right arm.  Rolling back the sleeve to
reveal her forearm, she held it out for Katherine to see.  An
ugly scar ran from her wrist to almost the elbow.  "The last time
I saw my *mother*, she gave me this."
     Katherine's eyes widened at the sight of the healed wound. 
The lighter scar tissue was wider in some places than others. 
Pin hole sized spots flanked the scar where a crude attempt at
stitching had held the skin together while it healed.  It look
hideous.  "Why?" was all she could gasp.
     "My *mother* is crazy.  She thought I was possessed by a
demon and decided to kill it in the middle of the night.  I
barely had time to get my arms up to protect myself from her
knife."  Liz began to tremble as she described the midnight
assault in her bed.  Her voice lowered to a snarl.  "I almost
killed her that night."
     Katherine continued to stare even after Liz allowed the arm
to flop back on the bar.  "I'm very sorry," she finally said in a
hushed voice.  "The war has been hard on everyone.  Even our
people suffered --"
     "OUR PEOPLE?"  Liz's head snapped around, her hair fanning
as she turned.  "Our people are little more than animals,
clinging to a way of life that's as dead as our ancestors.  All
our lands are poisoned by spirits that stalk the living and
torment the survivors.  You can't spend a single night there
without facing every manner of nightmare."
     "But --"
     "NO BUTS!  We're all going to die.  Our world is doomed.  I
watched my entire squadron, every friend I had in the RDF die at
the hands of the Reds.  I only survived because my Veritech
crashed into the sea.  I lived four days in a cockpit no larger
than a coffin before I was found."  She paused, her whole body
shaking with a combination of rage and fear.  "Just go away and
leave me alone!"
     Katherine was about to say something else when she felt a
hand on her shoulder.  She turned her head to see Samantha's
expression.  The look told her everything she needed to know. 
This one was a loss.  No sense in pursuing someone who was this
far gone.
     Still, she sensed something in Liz that argued there was a
chance.  What she needed was a reason to go on; another family
that accepted her and would support her.
     Samantha's grip tightened.  "Leave her alone.  We'll look
elsewhere," she said in a soft voice that contrasted sharply with
her grip.
     "Yeah, go away and let me die in peace.  At least then I
won't hear the voices anymore."  Liz slumped lower over the bar,
her shoulders shaking.
     Reluctantly, Katherine stood up.  She instinctively placed a
hand on the woman's shaking shoulder.  When Liz made no move to
shrug it off, she gently squeezed.  "I'm sorry.  We'll leave now. 
Maybe we'll see you again sometime.  Anyway, if you ever just
want to talk, I'm a good listener."
     Capt Littlebear's quiet crying deepened, her head, still
mostly screened by her hair, coming to rest on the shot glass.
     The Fox sisters left the broken ex-Veritech pilot to her
misery.  It wasn't easy.  Katherine still had the nagging feeling
that there was something in Liz that wanted to reach out and be
comforted.  There was a part of Liz that still fought for life. 
It must have been the same part that kept her alive in a
submerged Veritech, with only the barest survival gear, until
rescue.
     Passing the bartender on their way out, Katherine handed him
a twenty credit note.  "Help her forget," she said.  
     The bartended nodded.  "You girls come back sometime.  We
don't get classy ladies in here anymore."  He forced a melancholy
little smile.  "You gals sure brighten up the place."
     The Fox sisters exchanged glances before blushing.  "Maybe
we will."  She looked over her shoulder at the still shaking Liz
Littlebear.  "I've got a feeling someone could use the company."
     The bartender followed her gaze and nodded.  "Yeah, I've got
the same feeling.  A pretty girl like that..."
     "Any girl who's been through what she has deserves a chance
to find a life again," Samantha said.
     They thanked the bartender and slowly made their way back
outside.  Pausing on the raised sidewalk in front of their car,
they pondered what to do next.  A small group of young miners
noisily mounted the steps on the way into The Big MAC.  A couple
called rude suggestions to the sisters before hurrying to catch
up with their companions inside.
     "Well, now what?" Samantha asked climbing down to her side
of the car.
     "I guess we'll just go home and call it a night."  She
looked back towards the bar.  "I sure wish I could have..."  Her
voice trailed off.
     "I know.  Try to forget about it.  She's made her decision
and there's nothing you or I can do.  Let's go home."
     The sisters got into their little car, lost in their own
thoughts.  Instead of starting the vehicle, Katherine rolled down
the window to the crisp evening air and leaned on the door. 
Despite their conclusion that it wasn't worth the effort, she
couldn't shake the feeling that Liz really wanted someone to talk
to.

     Inside The Big MAC, the young miners crowded up to the bar,
intent on washing away a week's worth of pay in a single evening. 
A couple spotted the shapely female on a stool at the end of the
bar and nudged each other.

     Liz continued to hunch over the bar, holding her empty glass
in her fingers, her eyes open but seeing nothing as she let the
alcohol do its work.  Sometimes it took longer than others. 
Tonight was one of those nights.
     She noticed she wasn't alone was when she felt someone bump
against her hip.
     "Can I buy you a drink?" came a firm male voice disturbingly
close to her ear.
     "Sure, why not," she answered with a sniff, sliding her shot
glass towards the voice.
     She heard him order a refill and saw the glass reappear in
front of her.  She also felt a hand on her lower back; not
threatening but just... there.  She reached for the glass.  What
did she care where the hand was.  It was only a body that was
being fondled.  It was just a part of her she was once proud of
that now only attracted the lowest form of male attentions.  She
gulped down the drink and felt it burn all the way to her
stomach.  Damn, why won't it work faster tonight?
     "You know, I've got a pretty good claim going down south. 
We pull almost an ounce a day out of it."  She caught a glimpse
through her hair of a small leather bag being dangled over the
bar.  "Yup, doin' real good."
     "I'm happy for you," she said in a low, flat voice.
     "Of course, a pretty lady like you shouldn't be sittin'
alone."  She felt his hand slide lower, his fingers slipping
under the elastic of her panties.  She didn't react.  She figured
that if he wanted to fondle the crack of her butt, that was his
business.
     "I could see parting with this whole bag for an evening with
a pretty young thing such as yourself."  As if to prove his
point, the bag noisily landed on the bar.  "You stayin' anywhere
nearby?"
     She closed her eyes and endured the man's advances.  So long
as the drinks kept coming, she was prepared to put up with his
idiotic suggestions and sophomoric pawing.  It just didn't matter
anymore.
     "If not, there's a place a couple of blocks from here that
rents by the hour," he suggested.  "I'll get us a bottle and
we'll go have some fun."
     His other hand suddenly came into play, clumsily bumping her
right arm before venturing further.
     Her body jerked as his hand encircled a braless breast.  He
must have noticed because his groping became more insistent,
squeezing and kneading her tender flesh.  
     Her breathing increased, not from arousal but from fear.  A
slow burn began deep inside her, growing in intensity before
rushing rapidly to the surface.  The fire spread, cursing her
loss of dignity.  This was wrong.  She's a Veritech pilot,
dammit, not some two-bit whore willing to sell her body for a few
drinks and a smooth line.
     Images flashed before her eyes like a display screen in her
Veritech.  She saw the face of someone she'd allowed such
intimacies before.  He too had a smooth line and a handsome face. 
She'd been seduced, wed, and abandoned; all before the age of
eighteen.  What sex there was could have only been described as
rape.  It took months and the chance of joining the RDF before
she finally escaped him but not without an emotional price.  He'd
already found another to bed.
     Her eyes squeezed shut.  Never again, she vowed.  Never
again.

     
     The Fox sisters were jolted by the sounds of a body flying
through the swinging doors of The Big MAC.  They turned just in
time to see whoever it was bounce off the raised sidewalk and
roll down the stairs, coming to a stop, unmoving, in the street.
     "What the hell is going on?" Samantha gasped.
     "I'm not sure," Katherine replied as a pair of gunshots rang
out from the bar.  The sisters instinctively ducked.
     In rapid succession, two more bodies came flying out the
door, ending near the first.  That was followed by as much noise
and confusion as could be expected from such a small crowd in the
bar.
     Samantha was about to suggest they check on Captain
Littlebear when the person in question came bursting out of the
bar, a wild look on her face.  A quick glance both directions and
Liz began sprinting down the deserted sidewalk, running past the
Fox sisters in their car.
     They heard sirens approaching from the opposite direction. 
Katherine never hesitated.  Starting the little car and shoving
it into first gear, she gunned the engine and forced the
protesting vehicle away from the curb.
     "What are you doing?" Samantha gasped, grabbing for her
seatbelt as the vehicle accelerated.
     "I'm following her."  Katherine's eyes remained locked on
the fleeing young lady.  She was making pretty good time wearing
a pair of cowboy boots.
     They followed as close as they dared without spooking their
quarry.  The closer they got to downtown, the more traffic they
encountered.  Katherine switched from watching Liz to avoiding
other vehicles.  Samantha, however, proved to be a most capable
replacement.
     "She's slowing down," Samantha announced hopefully.
     Katherine slowed the car to match the still running Liz. 
She chanced a glance.  Amazing.  The girl appeared to be barely
winded.  With all the alcohol in her, she should have been
gasping for breath by now.  Instead, she continued to jog at a
good clip.
     Katherine had just looked back at the road when Samantha
screeched in her ear: "Turn left!  Turn left!"
     Cutting between two cars and avoiding a couple more parked,
she pointed the vehicle towards a dark alleyway just seconds
behind Liz.  Plunging into the darkness, she slowed the car
almost to a stop.  She didn't want to accidentally run over their
fellow RDF officer.
     The car jerked to a halt, its tires squealing.
     "Where'd she go?" Katherine asked, her head swiveling
rapidly.
     In a beam of light coming from a small shop, Samantha caught
a glimpse of movement further down the alley.  "There!" Samantha
yelled, pointing towards a dumpster almost to the other end.
     Katherine gingerly maneuvered the little car until they came
upon a bent-over Liz, holding her knees and gasping for breath. 
Looked like the alcohol finally sapped her strength.  She glanced
up only a moment before bending over again.  A single siren could
be heard approaching from the way they'd come.
     "Get in the car," Katherine demanded.
     Liz hesitated, blinking at elder Fox sister and breathing
hard.
     "Hurry up," Samantha added, looking back over her shoulder.
     Liz glared at the sound of an approaching police car like a
cornered wildcat.  Katherine popped open the back door and gunned
the engine once.  That had the desired effect.  Diving into the
back seat, Liz burrowed under a pile of blankets as Katherine
burned rubber exiting the alley.
     "Slow down," Samantha warned.  "We don't want to attract
attention."  She kept looking back towards the alley, only
occasionally glancing down at Liz busy covering herself with
blankets.
     The little car had slowed down to respectable downtown speed
when a Custer PD cruiser came tearing up the street, its lights
flashing and siren screaming.  Katherine slowly turned into a
parking lot, like she wasn't going anywhere particular.  
     If her intent was to deceive the cops, it must have worked. 
Without hesitation, the police cruiser screamed past and headed
for the edge of town.
     "Maybe they weren't looking for our passenger," Samantha
suggested as she watched the police car disappear.
     "I wouldn't count on that," Katherine warned.  "They're
probably still looking for a girl on foot."
     Both peered over the seat at the pile of blankets.  There
was no movement.
     "Hey, Littlebear, you okay?" Samantha asked, pulling up a
couple of blankets.  She gave a little gasp before adding: "I
don't believe it."
     "What?"  Katherine twisted around to look in the back seat.
     There, nestled among the blankets, was a peacefully sleeping
Liz Littlebear.  A light snore confirmed the soundness of her
slumber.
     "What do we do with her now?" Samantha asked, looking to her
sister for answers.
     Katherine's fingers drummed a light beat on the back of her
sister's bucket seat.  There still was the matter of their
squadron's needs.  Despite Capt Littlebear's refusals, she was a
very experienced pilot; the kind Thirteen Squadron badly needed.
     But Littlebear had made it clear, she had no interest in
joining another squadron - especially one heading into danger. 
Katherine wondered just how long such an accomplished pilot had
been hiding in a bottle.
     "I suppose we should just take her somewhere and let her
sleep it off," Samantha offered, gently tucking Liz in.
     "What's wrong with where she is?"  Katherine couldn't help
her sly smile.  She had an idea.
     "You mean just leave her in the car?"  Samantha looked
incredulous.
     "Why not?"
     Samantha thought about it for a moment before dropping
another blanket over the sleeping Liz Littlebear.  "Why not,
indeed."
     The Fox sisters made it back to base just before curfew,
easily avoiding the gate guards with their 'sleeping beauty'
carefully hidden under the pile of blankets in the back.
     Once in the parking lot, Katherine pulled out a folder and
affixed a rather complicated-looking document to a handy
clipboard.  She then leaned over the seat and uncovered their
backseat occupant.
     "Hey, you," she said roughly while shaking Liz by the
shoulder.  "You gotta sign for the room."
     "Huh?  Whatdyawan?" Liz mumbled, still mostly asleep.
     "You gotta sign," Katherine insisted.
     "Oh... yeah."  Liz shifted painfully and reached for the pen
Katherine was holding.  It took two tries but she finally
scrawled her name on the appropriate line before collapsing back
into an alcohol-induced slumber.
     Katherine checked the signature and nodded her approval. 
"Toss another blanket on our little sweetheart."
     Samantha, still in the dark about what her sister was up to,
simply shrugged and tossed another thick, warm blanket over Liz,
covering her head.
     The Fox sisters quietly exited their vehicle and started for
Grant Barracks.  Katherine stuffed the document back in her
folder as they walked.
     "What's that?" her sister asked, the unknown becoming too
much for her.
     "Another pilot for our squadron," Katherine said flatly.
     Samantha jerked to a halt.  "Transfer papers?"
     Her sister stopped and turned to look at her with a serious
expression.  "Yes, as soon as Lt Wallace adds the particulars."
     "You tricked her!"
     "So?"
     They stared at each other, Samantha in disbelief and
Katherine in defiance.
     Samantha was the first to break contact before she pushed
past her sister.  "I can't believe you'd stoop to such things,"
she said in disgust.
     "We need her," Katherine insisted as she followed her sister
up the walk.
     "But to trick her like that..."
     "You want to go back to driving airborne delivery trucks?"
Katherine asked with an accusing glare.
     "She'll deny knowing what she was signing.  She'll claim she
was drunk and we took advantage of her.  You know, the truth."
     "Fine," Katherine snarled, slapping the folder into her
sisters gut.  "Then tear them up.  But before you do consider
this: She's the last one available; the bottom of the barrel; no
more where she came from.  Think what you want but we need her."
     Samantha was speechless.  She'd never seen her sister act
this way before.  Katherine was behaving like she was desperate. 
"Just tell me why," Samantha finally asked in a hushed voice.
     "Because this squadron is the last chance for a lot of
people, you and me included.  If we don't get enough pilots to
activate the squadron, we may never get another chance anywhere." 
Katherine crossed her arms and looked across the airfield.  "When
we first got started, I knew it was going to be tough.  I knew
there'd be resistance to joining a new squadron heading somewhere
dangerous.  In my arrogance I thought I could do it.  I thought I
could do what I've always done; persevere by working hard.  Well,
I can't."  Katherine almost snarled the last.  She'd fought tough
odds all her life; getting into the RDF, getting selected for the
academy, picked for flight school, excelling so that she was
tapped to become an instructor.  Everything she got in life, she
had to work for.  No one *gave* her anything - ever.
     Samantha put her arm around her sister's shoulders.  "You
haven't failed.  Not yet, anyway."
     Katherine sniffed, wiping her eyes with both hands in a
tired gesture.  "It's not just that.  If we don't get enough
experienced people to go with all us rookies, we'll be burying a
lot of friends.  I don't want that.  I wouldn't be able to live
with myself if I was the cause if it.  But if we don't get enough
people to begin with, I don't know what will happen to all of
us."
     Samantha sighed and hugged her sister.  "We'll be split up
and assigned worse places under worse commanders than Colonel
Stuart."
     She turned her sister towards the barracks entrance and
slowly walked her inside.  Ever since Katherine was named
Executive Officer of the squadron, she'd been acting like she was
responsible for whatever failures the rest incurred.  It might
not be fair but that's the way people in her position think - the
good ones, anyway.
     Pushing open the heavy glass doors, Samantha released her
sister and gently guided her inside.  All she really needed was a
good night's rest.  It was one week ago today they got involved
with the squadron.  One week that she felt certain was going to
change them whether the squadron got activated or not.  Providing
they could get Veritechs soon, that left only three weeks for a
crash course on Veritech basic flying instruction. She was
confident that Katherine could teach them the basics in time. 
They might even learn to fly in formation.  Combat skills,
however, would have to be learned on-the-job.
     She nodded to the night clerk as they headed for their first
floor rooms.  Katherine was the lucky one.  She didn't have a
roommate yet.  Of course, that also meant she would be alone
tonight.
     Before they reached her room, Samantha decided to stay the
night with her sister.  They'd probably stay up late; like when
they were girls.  She smiled to herself remembering how they used
to lay there in the dark, even on school nights, talking about
boys, school, and the future; especially the future.  Katherine
always talked with such certainty about the future.  In her mind,
there was never a doubt about her success.  Underneath her quiet
exterior was a iron core of determination.  Samantha always
envied that.  She was never sure about anything.
     Katherine opened the door to her room and acted only mildly
surprised when her sister didn't stop outside.  It was as if she
knew what her sister was up to and welcomed it.  
     As the door closed, the squadron and all its attended
problems were left outside.  Tonight was going to be for 'girl
talk' only.  Tomorrow they'd decide what to do about Liz and the
rest of Thirteen Squadron's problems.