FOX Squadron
                    Episode 7 - Pirate Games
                        by G.L. Sandborn
                                
                                


     
     Katherine urged her aging vehicle into its parking place in
front of 13 Squadron's headquarters building.  The poor old car
usually had enough trouble just transporting Katherine and her
sister.  Adding four more people only made it handle like a farm
wagon.  Their load was unusual because she had offered rides to
Anne, Mary, and a very tired Gloria.
     The little technician had spent much of the previous evening
in Ona Parino's room, keeping watch over the recovering
Zentraedi.  By early morning, she'd so irritated Ona that the
nursing staff tossed her out for her own safety.  Chagrined, she
returned to Grant Barracks.  But, instead of going to her own
room, she stopped at Katherine's room to discuss her feelings
about the accident and what followed.  While it had a positive
effect on her, it kept the poor Executive Officer awake until
dawn.
      "So, what's the plan?" Cindy asked, stifling a yawn.  It had
obviously been a long night for everyone.
     "Well, we can't go inside until we sweep for bugs,"
Katherine answered, leaning on the hood of her car.
     "That really pisses me off," Samantha growled.
     "I know what you mean.  The thought of someone listening in
to our private conversations creeps me out," Cindy groused before
her eyes went wide.  "You don't think they have cameras too, do
you?"
     "Why?  You prance around naked in there before we arrive in
the morning?"  Samantha's expression bordered on amusement. 
Certainly, no one would do *that* in a squadron headquarters.
     Cindy turned away, her face red.  She hoped no one ever
found out about that morning she and Ona had to use the showers.  
     "Anybody got any ideas?" Katherine asked, looking amongst
her squadron mates.
     For some reason, all eyes turned to Gloria.
     Still thinking about Ona and the accident, it took a moment
for her to look up from her introspection.  "Huh?  Oh, well, we
could sweep the office ourselves."
     "How?" Katherine asked with a curious tilt of her head.
     "I bought something a couple of months ago, just for the fun
of it."  Gloria dug in her bag.  Straightening up, she held out a
small box.  "It doesn't look like much but it works good."
     "A sniffer," Samantha said with a knowing nod.
     "Yeah, well, it only works if the bug is active.  And, since
they'll turn 'em off as soon as we start sniffing 'em out, we'll
need a distraction."
     "What kind of distraction?"
     "You know, something noisy enough to cover our activities. 
By the time they figure out what's going on, the last bug will be
dead."
     Everyone looked at each other.  No one, apparently had any
ideas.  That is, until Anne knelt down and started rummaging
around in her bag.
     "What are you up to?" Katherine asked.
     Finding what she was looking for, Anne held up a mini-CD
disk.  "You got a player?" she asked, looking from person to
person.
     "I've got my boom box in a file drawer," Cindy admitted with
a curious look.
     "Is it loud?"  Anne grinned mischievously.
     "It'll rock the building."
     "Perfect."
     Shaking her head, Katherine said: "I don't know what you two
have in mind but let's try it anyway.  We've got work to do."
     With knowing nods, Anne, Cindy, and Gloria headed for the
building.

     At a GMP listening station up in Monument City, the
technician on duty suddenly yelped and whipped off his headset.
     "What's the problem?" his supervisor asked with a scowl.
     "You gotta hear this."  The technician held out the headset
while rubbing an abused ear.
     Taking the headset, the supervisor held it up to his ear and
listened with a frown.  A disgusted look quickly replaced the
frown.  Tossing the headset on the console, he started for the
door.
     "What is it?" the technician asked, retrieving his headset.
     The supervisor said over his shoulder: "You're too young to
remember but offhand I'd say it was Twisted Sister."
     The technician was going to inquire further but he figured
it was something he probably shouldn't pursue.  "Shall I keep
listening?"
     Pausing at the door, the supervisor shrugged his shoulders. 
"Only if you like that kind of music."

     To the pounding beat of 'We're Not Gonna Take It', Gloria
extended the antenna on her sniffer and worked her way round the
room.  Cindy followed close behind.  As Gloria found the bugs,
Cindy pried them loose and hurried them over to just in front of
the boom box.  Anne kept watch over the music, whistling when the
CD changed tracks so Gloria knew to wait for the next song before
resuming her search.  Considering the number of bugs they found,
they made good time sweeping the building.

     Katherine leaned on her car, her chin supported in the palm
of her hand.  "You know, hearing that music makes me feel like
I'm standing outside a bar."
     Lightly bobbing to the beat, Samantha drummed her fingers on
the car's hood.  "I know what you mean.  We need to get out
more."
     Katherine sighed.  "There's too much to do."
     "Still, you gotta get out more," Samantha said with a grin. 
"There's still lots of cute guys out there."
     Katherine was about to remark that she didn't have time for
guys when out of the darkness came Karen and Linda Crowkiller, on
foot.  The base shuttle bus had dropped them off about a mile
down the road and they had to walk the rest of the way.  Since
the previous day's ASC showdown, no one seriously wanted to get
close to the new squadron's area.  It was considered dangerous to
one's health just to be around them.
     "What's going on?" Karen asked, her wounded hand in a white
cast but otherwise showing no signs of her injury.
     "We're sweeping the building of bugs," Samantha noted with a
nod towards the sound of music.  By now, Anne's CD had switched
to the pounding sounds of 'R-O-C-K in the USA'.  If covering
Gloria's work was the intent, Anne's choice of music had to be
doing the job.
     It was also a bit infectious.  Linda looked at Samantha and
grinned, her feet beginning to move with the beat.  Before anyone
knew it, the two were happily line dancing.
     Katherine frowned and stared to comment on their unmilitary
reaction when she noticed Karen too was bobbing along in time
with the music.  Well, at least they were getting along together,
she thought.  "Sure hope the Colonel is having as good a time
retrieving those four Veritechs," she mumbled.

     Bouncing up a rutted old logging trail, Jeff Stuart hung on
for dear life as Virginia wrestled the wheel of their new truck
to keep from plunging into the thick woods on either side.  She'd
chosen this route because it was supposed to take them to a point
above the abandoned Lone Rock RDF airfield where they could check
out the area before pulling up to the main gate.  They had
already experienced enough surprises just getting this far.
     Despite constant patrols, the hills west of Yellowstone had
their share of bandits and other undesirable elements guaranteed
to be drawn to a truck traveling alone in the pre-dawn darkness. 
So far, they had avoided one road block set up by RDF Security
and another clumsily manned by a pair of inept would-be bandits
by taking detours around them.  Such diversions took them up
unmarked trails and down roads that were little more than wide
footpaths.
     His three companions, Daisy, Missy, and Nancy, endured the
uncomfortable ride in the truck's enclosed cargo compartment with
only an occasional protest when Virginia turned sharply or
bounced over an obstruction.  Jeff had to hand it to her.  She
was relentless and reckless at the same time.
     "Are we almost there?" came Nancy's voice from the back.
     "Almost," Jeff replied.
     Virginia responded by turning sharply, spilling the three
from one side of the truck to the other.  Their protests and
threats only caused the girl to grin.
     "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Jeff said.
     "Having the time of my life," Virginia said back.  "Used to
drive my uncle's pickup around the Black Hills back home.  Never
had to dodge this many trees though."
     "How come you're in such a hurry.  Those Veritechs aren't
going anywhere."
     "I'm just excited, that's all."
     "Why?"
     "Because Veritechs mean we'll be getting in the air; we're
becoming a real squadron."
     Jeff had to agree that the addition of fighters went a long
way towards making the squadron legitimate but refrained from
adding that the fighters they were retrieving were all single-
seaters.  That meant nothing to the novices like Virginia.  No
meaningful training could take place without dual VT's and those
were simply not available.
     "Well, slow down anyway," he said, gripping the truck's
roof.  "We still need the truck."
     His words seemed to have little effect on Virginia as the
truck continued to bounce and careen all over the trail.  He was
about to issue a sterner warning when the truck slid to a halt. 
Three bodies could be heard tumbling about in the back.
     Snapping on a light, Virginia scowled at the GPS coordinates
displayed by the truck's guidance system and quickly plotted it
on her map.  A double check followed before she nodded.  "We're
here," she said, folding the map.  "The ridge you want is about a
hundred meters ahead."
     "Good," Jeff grunted.  Opening his door, he barked:
"Everybody out!"
     The sound of a tailgate slamming down accompanied a series
of groans and muttered complaints.  Obviously glad to be free of
their confinement, his three pilots tumbled out, stretching and
yawning.
     "All right, Virginia stays with the truck.  Nancy, you're
with me.  You other two flank the trail and keep a watch," he
said putting his micro-radio headset on.  Standing in the open
truck door, Virginia did the same.  All the women produced their
weapons, cocking them loudly.  If there was going to be any sort
of trouble, they were ready.
     Jeff wanted to ask where they got the pistols but decided it
wasn't important.  They were there for the Veritechs.  Everything
else could wait for later.
     "IR" he said to Nancy.
     The veteran tracker pulled out a small box-like set of
binoculars.  Dropping to a knee, she fiddled with the settings
before raising them to her eyes.  Doing a slow scan of the
surrounding vegetation, she checked for any heat sources that
would betray humans hiding in ambush.  Her sigh and nod confirmed
they were alone, at least in their little sector of the hill.
     Jeff motioned his team forward, listening carefully and
minding every step.  He trusted the IR scan, as far as it goes,
but knew well that a determined opponent could defeat it a number
of high-tech ways and they were too close to screw up now.
     Nancy fell in next to him, her weapon dimly visible as she
swept the trees beside the road.  Daisy and Missy were doing the
same a couple of meters behind and further out to each side.  He
felt a growing sense of satisfaction at the way they worked. 
Just like the men he had led in the past, they functioned with an
air of professional pride.  That alone was a good sign.
     Adjusting the thin boom mike, he said softly: "Ginny, you
copy?"
     "Copy.  Clear," came the response in his earphone.  Her
voice was steady and precise.
     They traveled slowly up the trail until, halting his team
with a raised hand, he made a fist and the others dropped to a
knee awaiting further orders.
     Motioning for the others to stay, he slowly worked his way
to the edge of the ridge that overlooked the airfield.  Dropping
to his stomach on the grass and leaves leftover from the previous
season, he grimaced at the amount of noise he was making.  In the
still air it sounded like a moose tromping about.
     Looking over the rise, he scanned the old airfield.  In the
early dawn twilight, it appeared deserted.  Nothing moved and
there were no vehicles in sight.  From his position, he could
clearly see the main gate and most of the facility security
doors.  All appeared to be undisturbed.  
     Lone Rock wasn't much more than a single runway hung on the
side of a mountain.  Most of its functions took place
underground, deep within the mountain.  He figured that since RDF
Security made repeated trips up this way, all the electronic
locks and warning sensors must still be functioning.
     He felt for the card Steve Friedman had given him.  It
contained all the codes needed to access any part of the base and
would turn off those sensors associated with the area being
accessed.  Good thing.  They didn't exactly want a surprise visit
from RDF Security.  The Veritechs might be tough to explain.
     Raising his arm, he signaled his team forward.  Silently,
they drifted into position on either side of him.  He couldn't
help but frown.  How did they move so quietly?
     "Looks clear enough," he said softly.  "Give it an IR
sweep."
     Nancy raised her thermal binoculars and swept the airfield
from its main gate to the massive hangar doors set in the side of
the mountain.
     "Looks okay...," she said before her body stiffened.  "Hold
it."
     All eyes turned her way, waiting for a final verdict.  Nancy
leaned forward as she fiddled with the settings on her binoculars
and concentrated on a single point.
     When she seemed to relax, they all started breathing again. 
"It's okay.  Just a stray deer that jumped the perimeter fence."
     Daisy grinned.  "Probably doesn't know how to get out."
     "Anyone for fresh venison?" Nancy asked, putting away her
binoculars and drawing her pistol.
     Jeff's hand on her arm stopped her.  "Perhaps another time."
     "Yeah, there ought to be lots of good hunting in the
Ozarks," Daisy said hopefully.  She, more than any of the others,
liked a good hunt but understood this was neither the time nor
the place.
     "Okay, everyone back to the truck."  Jeff adjusted the
microphone again.  "Ginny, we're coming back."
     "Copy."
     The little band in groups of two filtered back the way
they'd come, the girls moving in complete silence and Jeff
cursing himself for every snapped twig.
     As they piled into the truck, Jeff swung into the passenger
seat.  "All clear.  Head for the main gate."
     With an almost child-like squeal of delight, Virginia
started the truck and set off down the mountain to the paved road
that ran passed the airfield's entrance.  Light from the truck's
headlights bounced as they negotiated trees, rocks, and the
occasional wild animal.
     All the way down the mountain, Jeff had plenty of time to
think of everything that could go wrong and how you'd deal with
it.  Plan for the worst and hope for the best, he reminded
himself.  There certainly were enough things that could go wrong.
     He was still thinking about how to deal with RDF Security
catching them in the fighters when the truck jerked to a halt. 
He looked up to see they were in front of the closed and locked
main gate.
     "What now, sir?" Virginia asked.
     Handing her the code card, he replied: "Use this and pray."
     Virginia took the card, adding a frown of concern before
reaching for the gate security box.  Sliding the card into a
slot, everyone held their breath.
     For several seconds, nothing happened.  The little red light
on the box continued to glow, the early morning breeze whipped
through the cab of their truck, and a couple of early birds
announced their presence in the long grass inside the fence
perimeter.
     A loud 'click', like a rifle shot, startled them as the
light turned green.  The aging, ten foot high gate noisily began
to slide open, creaking and groaning as it rolled on worn
bearings.
     "Well, looks like we're in," Jeff said with a smile.
     Handing him his code card, Virginia sighed and shook her
head before muttering: "The damned thing nearly gave me a heart
attack."
     Instead of heading directly across the field, Jeff directed
her to take the perimeter road; making certain each of the
sensors were showing green before passing.  Steve Friedman might
have planned for nearly everything but even he couldn't
anticipate RDF Security changing the codes last minute.  One
tripped sensor and their retrieval trip would become a mad
scramble to get the fighters out before the guards arrived.
     Turning onto the tarmac, Virginia accelerated.  There was
good reason for her urgency.  RDF Security usually made morning
rounds to this part of their territory around 0800.  She wanted
to be back on the road, passing them in the opposite direction by
the time they approached Lone Rock.
     With a squeal of brakes, the truck stopped in front of the
massive hangar doors.
     Jeff got to the hangar lock box moments before his pilots. 
All were carrying their flight bags containing helmets, gloves,
and flight documents.  The sense of urgency grew with every
passing moment.
     "Let's see what's behind door number one," he said, slipping
his card into the electronic lock.  
     This time, the response was more immediate.  A loud, echoing
'thunk' signaled the locks releasing.  With a rumble that grew in
intensity until he began to worry about someone hearing, the
doors parted, the morning sun streaming through the opening
illuminating everything inside.
     At first, the hangar appeared to be empty.  Could Steve have
been wrong?  Could someone else have gotten to the fighters
first?  Relief washed over him when the doors opened enough to
reveal four flat gray-colored Veritechs, parked along the side
like cars in a parking lot.
     "Jackpot," Daisy said with a wide grin.
     "Okay, everyone pick a bird," he said.  Turning to Virginia,
he handed her the ID card and said: "Security does their checks
at 0800.  What time do you have?"
     "Just shy of 0730," she replied.
     Nodding, he turned towards the fighters.  "Let's get the
pre-flight over and get out of here.  We're going to have company
in thirty minutes."
     Three voices acknowledged him and he could see flashlights
being used to illuminate intakes, wheel wells, and other aircraft
crevices.  It took little less than ten minutes for everyone to
finish.
     Jeff slapped the access panel on the left side of his
fighter's fuselage and was rewarded by the humming of the canopy
opening.  At least he knew the bird had power.
     Climbing aboard, he dug through his flight bag, pulling out
his helmet, gloves, and his most cherished possession; his white
flying scarf.  Jennifer had given it to him for good luck when he
first got his pilot's wings.  He never flew without that scarf,
especially after she died.
     The sight of his helmet artwork caused him to pause.  On the
background of an old Confederate battle flag were a pair of
crossed sabers; the universal symbol for cavalry.  With a sigh,
he shook his head and reminded himself to have it removed.  His
Lakota wife never objected, knowing his ancestry, but the others
might not understand.
     "I'll lock up and meet you at the run-up point," Virginia
called from the truck.
     Jeff acknowledged her with a wave of his hand.  Fitting his
helmet in place, with all the familiar smells that went with it,
he slipped on his gloves and pushed the APU button.  The cockpit
came alive with lights, displays, and the comforting whine of
gyros spooling up.
     He clicked the radio button on the control stick.  "Okay,
everyone on line?"
     "Mills here.  Wall-to-wall."
     "Robins.  Roger."
     "Montoya.  Standing by."
     "Okay, listen up.  Here's what we're going to do.  Missy,
you're on my wing.  Daisy, you've got B Section.  That leaves
Nancy on your wing.  Follow me out and we'll do our final run-ups
at the hold-short.  Anyone has ANY troubles there, you abandon
the bird and jump in the truck with Ginnie.  No arguments.
     "Take off will be by twos, leader left.  Form into a finger
four and we'll escort Ginnie and the truck as far as the main
road.  She'll be okay from there.  Questions?"
     "Rock and roll, sir," Daisy chirped.
     "Alright, heat 'em up."
     The deafening roar of four Veritechs powering up filled the
hangar; its sound echoing repeatedly inside the solid-rock walls
of the mountain, making the air vibrate and fill with the odor of
Protoculture-powered exhaust.
     Satisfied his fighter was functioning normally, he released
brakes, throttled back and picked his way through the hangar
doors.  Emerging into the morning sun, he slipped on his Ray-bans
and checked his flight.  Three Veritechs were obediently behind
him, their canopies open to cool morning air.
     They taxied slowly to the end of the runway and went through
their final checks; running up the engines to check pressures and
making sure instruments were functioning.  Everything looked
good.

     Virginia secured the hangar and still beat the fighters to
the run-up point.  As they approached, she leaned on the roof of
their truck and savored the atmosphere of Veritechs in action. 
When the third aircraft came to a stop almost directly beside
her, she could see her sister's wide grin.  She couldn't help but
feel a twinge of envy.  Her sister looked so perfect in that
cockpit; like she was born to do exactly what she was doing.  In
a gesture that sent her spirits soaring, she saw her sister add
an enthusiastic 'thumb's up' her way.
     Virginia responded with a whoop of joy, slamming her fists
on the truck's roof and giving a dual 'thumbs-up' back.  "Yeah!
You go, sis!" she yelled.  There was only one flying Mills sister
now but she vowed there'd soon be a second as she watched the
first two fighters start towards the runway.
     Like a well-drilled team, the little flight rolled out onto
the runway in twos and immediately applied full power.  Smoothly,
the Veritechs launched themselves into the air, each sliding into
their assigned position.
     Virginia climbed onto the hood of her truck and watched them
make a slow turn in formation before heading back towards her. 
With her heart pounding in her chest as they dropped down to only
a hundred feet or so above the airfield, she got a once in a
lifetime look at the business-end of a flight of Veritechs.
     "Yeah!" she yelled as they roared towards her.
     Closing her eyes, she reached up as high as she could, her
fingers spread wide.  With a roar, four fighters passed directly
overhead.  She could feel the air displaced as they approached. 
The hot blast that blew her hair about her head as they passed
was like the warm caress of a lover.  They were a squadron now. 
They had teeth to go with their name.  It was all coming
together, despite outside interference.  They were going to make
it.  *She* was going to be a Veritech pilot.
     With a final whoop of joy, she slid off the hood and jumped
into the cab.  The ride home was going to be great.

     "Okay, what are you three up to?" Katherine asked as she
approached Cindy's desk.  The little Admin Officer was huddled
with Gloria and Anne around her computer terminal.  They appeared
to be typing furiously between giggles and hushed conversation.
     "Just following orders, ma'am," Cindy said with a giggle.
     "I'm almost afraid to ask," Katherine replied with a curious
expression and hands on her hips.
     The three exchanged glances, Anne's jaw constantly in motion
as she worked her latest wad of gum.
     "We're just seeing what supplies are available," Cindy said.
     "Admirable but when are you going to start requesting them?"
Katherine asked with a frown.
     "Just as soon as General Emerson's secretary reboots her
computer," Gloria said, her little self-satisfied smile causing
Katherine to worry.  Any of these three could get themselves into
all sorts of trouble on their own.  Putting them together was a
sure recipe for disaster.
     "I don't get it," Katherine admitted.
     "We're just setting things up.  We'll get the supplies
later."  Cindy grinned like she had just received keys to the
bank.
     Katherine closed her eyes and held her forehead in a hand. 
"Let me get this straight," she said with a sigh.  "You guys are
hacking your way around the base computer network?"
     The three exchanged looks before Cindy admitted: "Well,
sorta."
     Katherine sighed again.  "If you guys get caught..."
     "They won't catch us," Gloria said in a low voice.
     "How do you know that?"
     "We're routing everything through the base network
communications processor that I set up.  Only I know the codes
and what it takes to cover our tracks."  Gloria rubbed her face
with both hands, like she was exhausted.  She probably was.
     "So, there's no way it can be traced?" Katherine asked, her
skepticism obvious.
     "Not unless they bring in better people than they've got
now," Gloria replied with a yawn.  "I know the computer
technicians assigned to the main computer center.  Those guys
could screw up a ball bearing."
     Katherine still wasn't convinced but couldn't think of a
valid reason to stop them, outside of the basic illegality of it
all.  Besides, the squadron needed those supplies and whatever
the three had in mind was certainly worth trying.  
     Turning away while shaking her head, she was certain she'd 
hear more about this before it was all over.

     Watching Katherine disappear out the front door, Cindy let
out a deep breath.  "That was close."
     "Naw, she doesn't have a clue," Gloria noted.
     "She suspects something."
     "Let her.  By this afternoon, she'll be too busy counting
stuff to care how it got here."
     "Well, okay," Cindy said casting a quick glance at
Katherine's closed office door.  "It still feels like we're doing
something wrong."
     "We're following orders.  You heard the Colonel.  We're
supposed to use 'all means necessary'."  Gloria crossed her arms
and leaned back in her chair.  An evil grin grew on her face. 
"Besides, I've got some scores to settle and I can't think of a
better way than doing this."
     "If you say so," Cindy conceded with a gulp.  "Where do we
start?"

     "Hey, Major!" called a technician in the Logistics Office. 
"You gotta see this one."  He held up a printed form of a request
he'd just received over the network.
     Taking the request from his technician, the Major frowned at
its contents.
     "What are these people planning?" he asked to himself.  "I
haven't seen a request of this size since the SDF-3 left."
     "It's all legit, sir," the technician added, pointing to the
first two lines.  "It has the highest priority and all the proper
codes."
     The Major nodded.  Everything *looked* right and it had the
proper priority codes.  Still, this was most unusual.  To fill a
request this size would almost clean him out.  It had to be a
mistake.  "Have this verified," he said, handing the paper back
to his technician.
     "Sir?"
     "Request a confirmation."
     With a shrug, the technician typed in his request and was
immediately rewarded with a properly coded confirmation.  He was
about to tell the Major when his eyes caught on the final line of
the reply.
     "Holy...," he gasped.
     The Major was quickly at his shoulder.  When *he* read the
line, all he could do was blink.
     "The Grand Council of the United World Government endorses
this action," he read slowly.  Digging out of his pocket the
current code verification list, he matched the code on his
technician's screen to the book's listing for the Grand Council. 
They matched perfectly.  "Process the request," he said turning
to leave.
     "Sir?  You mean provide them with everything they asked
for?"
     "You heard me.  Process the request," the Major repeated,
heading for his office.  With authorization codes like that,
whatever 13 Squadron was up to must be important.  Besides, there
was no future in disobeying the Grand Council.

     "What a cool idea, Anne," Cindy gushed as she reached for
the confirmation message on the printer.
     "Yeah, they might question General Emerson's orders but
*nobody* is going to question the Grand Council," giggled Gloria. 
Just being part of this operation was like a strong stimulant. 
She might be tired by the end of the day but for now, she was
wide awake and totally engaged in her activity.  Besides, this
was fun.
     "Okay, who's next?"  Cindy leaned back in her seat with a
mischievous grin.
     "Let's make the 'boomers' happy," Gloria replied, reaching
for the ordnance list.
     "Boomers?" Anne asked, tightening the clip on her pony tail.
     "You know, Daisy and Nancy."  The other two giggled
together.  "They're always taking about guns and stuff."
     "Sounds good.  Let's get them enough goodies to start a
war."
     Cindy made a few marks on the list while Gloria changed her
program from logistics to ordnance.  Anne popped in another CD
and fired up the boom box.  Soon the room was pulsing to the beat
of 'We Got The Beat'.
     Cindy looked up from her notes.  "Sounds like a girl group."
     Bouncing lightly on the desk, Anne unwrapped another chunk
of gum and grinned.  "The Go-Go's.  They're cool."
     Gloria continued to type while bobbing along with the music. 
"I could get used to this."

     "Colonel, we've just been picked up by Yellowstone radar." 
Daisy's voice lacked any urgency.  It was just a simple
declaration of the obvious.
     "They're not expecting us, sir," Nancy added.
     Jeff looked to his right.  Daisy's section was tucked in
nicely to the formation.  Another good sign; they had proper
formation discipline.  "I guess it's time to put the next part of
our plan in operation."
     Switching frequencies, he keyed his mike a couple of times. 
"Yellowstone Tower, this is Rehab Shuttle Flight Delta, two-five
miles bearing two-two-five, angels five.  Requesting vector to
runway one niner, over."
     Anne had briefed Jeff on her usual procedure approaching an
RDF facility.  Usually, it wasn't a big deal because the Rehab
unit was constantly retrieving worn-out craft for rebuilds from
bases all over.  Because their flight wasn't scheduled with
Flight Operations, Jeff knew they would check with the Rehab
Section before clearing them.  Good thing Steve left orders to
acknowledge their flight.
     "RSF Delta, this is Yellowstone Tower.  Your flight is
confirmed.  Come to heading zero-two-zero, descend to angels two. 
Pattern is blue right.  The circuit is clear.  Notify when over
boundary.  Out."
     "Looks like we're in," Daisy said.  
     Jeff looked her way and was rewarded with a grin.  "We're
not in the hangar yet," he warned.
     "You worry too much."
     "That's my job, Lieutenant."

     The door to 13 Squadron's offices slammed open and what
passed for a properly uniformed Liz Littlebear stumbled in
holding her head.  While she was at least wearing the proper duty
uniform this time, it looked distinctly slept in.
     "Morning, Captain," Cindy chirped as Liz slumped past her
desk.
     "Shut up," Liz mumbled and winced like the sound of her own
voice hurt.  "Where's the damned coffee."
     "Over on the file cabinets."
     Anne chomped on her gum and stared as the Captain passed her
on the way to the life-giving brew.  Leaning over towards her two
companions, she asked: "What is that supposed to be?"
     "Captain Liz Littlebear, Veritech Pilot," Cindy replied with
a wrinkled nose.
     "Really?  Is that what Veritech pilots look like up close?"
Anne asked, her eyes glued to the Captain.
     Liz snatched the half-full pot of coffee and made an attempt
to pour herself a cup.  She got half a cup full and slopped the
rest onto the file cabinets.
     "What's wrong with her?" Gloria asked with a fearful
expression.  She'd already encountered what she thought was the
worst of her new squadron.  However, nothing could have prepared
her for Liz Littlebear.
     "She's probably been drinking again."  Cindy crossed her
arms and frowned disapprovingly at Liz.
     The older pilot noisily slurped down some coffee before
starting to rummage through the files.  After two drawers, she
slammed shut the last and growled: "Where's the damned aspirin?"
     Cindy opened her top drawer and pulled out a small plastic
bottle.  Without a word, she threw the container at the Captain,
striking her in the side.  "There's your hangover medicine,
Captain."
     Liz spun around, her eyes locking on Cindy with a murderous
look.  The room held its collective breath.
     "What's the matter?  Can't bend over far enough to pick it
up?"  Cindy's words were as disrespectful as her expression. 
Both caused Liz to deepen her glare.
     "You need a lesson in respect, ya little twerp," she growled
while bending over to pick up the bottle.
     "Respect has to be earned, Captain."
     Gloria knew well enough to not get between two people intent
of fighting and slowly rolled her chair away.
     Liz snarled: "I ought to twist your empty head off and --"
     "You ought to try," Cindy warned, rising out of her chair
and balling her small hands into fists.
     "Don't tempt me," Liz answered, straightening up to her full
height.  Even hung over, she looked intimidating.
     The silent war of non-verbal threats continued until Anne
calmly wandered over to the files and reached for the coffee pot. 
That drew the Captain's attention and her anger.
     "What do *you* want, half-pint?" Liz growled, her eyes
blazing.
     Anne poured her coffee before pausing, avoiding any glances
the Captain's way.  Her jaw continued working her gum, her face
displaying no emotion at all.  "Nuthin'," she muttered in a
nonchalant manner as she turned away, cradling the fresh cup of
coffee in her hands.
     "Children," Liz said with a snort.  "Nothing but children. 
You won't last two minutes in a fight."
     Anne walked calmly back to the desk with Cindy, making
certain she offered no provocative statements or moves.  Only the
squeak of her office chair as she sat down broke the silence.
     "Somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed," Cindy said
with a shake of her head.  "That is, providing she actually slept
in a bed this time."
     "What's that supposed to mean?" Liz demanded.
     "It means for an officer, you're sure acting like an ass."
     "That's it!" Liz yelled, slamming her cup on the file
cabinets, splashing its contents across their surface.
     As she started towards the still defiant Cindy, little Anne
quickly got out of her chair and stepped in front of her.
     "Get out of my way, shrimp," Liz growled, her eyes locked on
her target.
     Anne said nothing but continued to front the snarling
Veritech veteran, calmly chewing her gum and avoiding eye
contact.  Her actions only caused Liz to redirect her anger.
     "I said: Get out of my way!"
     The diminutive Anne, her head barely coming to the Captain's
shoulders, refused to move aside.  Only her jaw moved as it
continued to work the wad of gum in her mouth.
     With a disgusted grunt, Liz reached out to slap the annoying
little Anne out of her way.  In a flash, Anne grabbed her arm,
twisted her body and flipped the astonished Liz over her
shoulder.  Almost before the Captain hit the floor, Anne was on
her chest, pinning her victim's arms with her knees and holding a
small but lethal-looking knife to her throat.  Only her jaw
continued to move, working her wad of gum; her expression was
that of a person bored with the whole affair.
     Liz lay pinned to the floor, her eyes wide.  Nothing cures a
hangover faster than being pinned to the floor with a knife to
your throat.  When she swallowed, she could feel the sharp edge
of the knife bite lightly into the soft skin.  The room fell
silent in anticipation.
     To everyone's surprise, a slow smile grew on Littlebear's
face.  She almost laughed out loud.  "You're good," she said, a
hint of respect in her voice.  "I underestimated you."
     "A fatal flaw in combat," came a voice from the open door. 
"Don't you think?"
     Everyone except Liz and Anne turned to see Karen Crowkiller
standing in the open doorway, holding her injured hand against
her body.  She appeared unconcerned at the drama unfolding in
front of her.
     Slowly making her way across the room to stand over Liz, she
looked down at the trapped Captain and frowned.  "I thought you
were good.  I hope your current predicament is only the result of
your drinking and not because you've lost it."
     The smile disappeared from Liz Littlebear's face.  "Karen
Crowkiller," she said like it was an expletive.  "I thought they
got you in the Amazon."
     "Only part of me," Karen replied, her expression hardening.
     "What happened to your hand?  That part of it?"
     "No."
     "Pardon me for not getting up but, as you can see, I seem to
have a little problem here."
     "Your little problem doesn't seem to be much impressed by
your kill total."
     "I've still got more than you."
     "In your dreams, bear-butt.  While you were off eating
chocolates and banging blonde boys, I was tangling with The
Furies."
     Cindy and Gloria exchanged glances.  They'd heard of the
last group of female Zentraedi renegades in South America.  The
Furies were the most murderous cut-throats the RDF had ever
encountered.  Their atrocities were the stuff of legends - and
nightmares.  The seemed to come out of nowhere and attack with a
fury unknown to civilized people.  Whole towns disappeared when
they showed up.  Sending RDF units after them only resulted in
lost crews and equipment.  To have faced them and survived to
tell about it was most impressive indeed.
     "Sounds like you've been close," Liz said, a hint of
compassion in her voice.
     "Closer than I wanted," Karen answered.
     "You want to tell me about it?"  Liz looked up at the
impassive Anne.  "If you can get her to let me up, we can talk."
     Karen's eyes darted from Liz to the others and back again. 
"Okay, but not here.  I've got to go get a prescription filled. 
You drive, if you're not too drunk."
     With a snort, Liz smiled again.  "You haven't lost it."
     "Never will," Karen warned.

     All this conversation had caused Anne's neutral expression
to slip into a frown.  She obviously didn't understand any of
what passed between her captive and the Veritech pilot with the
broken hand.  They sounded almost like old friends.  
     At Karen's gentle request, she sighed and got off
Littlebear's chest, her knife disappearing as fast is it had
appeared.  Calmly picking up her coffee cup, she spit out her gum
and took a healthy drink.
     With Karen's help, Liz got to her feet, brushing her uniform
with her hand.  It still looked slept in.  "You're pretty quick,"
she said to Anne.  "You a pilot?"
     Anne set her cup on a desk and turned to rummage through her
bag.  "Yeah."
     "Not very talkative either.  I like that."  A wicked smile
grew on Littlebear's face, her fingers checking for blood on her
neck.  There wasn't any.  "You wanna fly my wing?"
     Finding what she was looking for, Anne unwrapped another
monster hunk of gum and stuffed it in her mouth.  Looking over
her shoulder at Liz she shrugged.  "'Kay."
     Turning to leave, Liz paused next to Cindy's desk.  The
little Admin Officer was still standing, her fists clenched,
prepared for a surprise resumption of hostilites.
     "You know, for not being one of us, you're okay.  You've got
courage... or lack of sense.  Either way, you'll do."
     Liz didn't wait for a reaction.  It didn't matter to her. 
She'd made her point.

     The two had barely left when Katherine returned from the
hangar.  Flipping the pages of her notebook of things to be done,
she sighed and muttered something about schedules, delays, and
things they didn't have.  Looking up from her notes, like she was
perplexed at the lack of activity, she asked: "Is there something
going on I should know about?"
     Cindy plopped back into her chair and let out a deep breath. 
"Nothing to speak of."
     "Oh, good.  Then let's get back to work."  Katherine frowned
at her notes again.  "If we don't get some office help in here
soon, I'm going to go nuts."
     "How about a palm-sized organizer?" Gloria asked, her voice
and confidence returning with the departure of Liz Littlebear.
     "You have one?"
     "I can get one."
     "How..."  Katherine blinked before closing her eyes and
holding up a hand.  "On second thought, I don't want to know."
     Cindy and Gloria watched the Executive Officer walk the
short distance to her office and close the door before turning to
Anne.
     "Where did you learn to fight like that?" Cindy asked.
     Anne shrugged.  "Here and there."
     "You must be some kind of martial artist or something,"
Gloria offered, she was still in awe at how easily the younger
girl took the intimidating Liz Littlebear.
     "Naw."  Anne stared into her coffee mug.  An uncomfortable
silence blanketed the room.
     "Well, good thing you got between us.  She would have killed
me," Cindy said with sigh.
     "No, she wouldn't"
     "How do you know that?"
     Anne shrugged before looking at the door.  "I know her kind. 
If you ain't tough, she won't respect you."  Anne took another
sip of her coffee before adding: "You passed."
     "Apparently, so did you," Gloria said, her awe-struck
expression still in place.  "Are you really going to fly with
her?"
     "Why not?"
     Gloria and Cindy exchanged confused looks before shaking
their heads.  There were some aspects of either the Lakota
culture or pilots in general they still didn't understand.
     "Well, we need to get back to work," Cindy finally said,
remembering how she was still the Admin Officer and responsible
for obtaining the items the squadron needed; at least, until they
came up with a Logistics Officer.


     "Colonel, I've got a problem."
     Daisy's voice sounded calm but conveyed the seriousness of
her situation.
     "What's wrong?" Jeff asked, knowing he wasn't going to like
the answer.  They were still on a vector to enter the downwind
traffic pattern and flying dangerously low and slow for a
problem.
     "I'm losing hydraulic pressure.  The controls are already
getting mushy."
     "Lock it down."
     "I already tried that.  The overrides won't work. 
Pressure's still dropping.  The mode locks aren't working
either."
     "Nancy, drop down and take a look."
     The number four Veritech immediately ducked under Daisy's
wounded bird.  It didn't take long to find the leak.
     "Wow, girl, your bird is peeing all over itself," Nancy
said.
     "Can you isolate it?" Jeff asked.
     "Yeah, looks like one of the compensators blew.  Probably a
seal or something.  Looks bad."
     Jeff groaned.  They'd been lucky so far; too lucky.  These
might have looked like brand new birds but they were really just
Frankenstein creations from the laboratory of Steve Friedman and
company.  No matter how talented he and his associates were,
these Veritechs were still made with mostly used parts and items
snagged on the black market.  It was impossible to tell in
advance how good or bad a particular part was.  Apparently, one
of Steve's parts was too old to handle the pressure.
     "Can you make it to the base?"  Jeff knew the value of the
Veritech she was flying but he also knew the value of the pilot. 
There was no decision as to which he valued more.  "Don't be a
hero.  If she starts to get away from you, get out.  That's an
order."
     "I can make it, sir," Daisy insisted but the tension in her
voice left doubts.
     Jeff was about to warn her again but stopped himself,
remembering how stubborn Daisy could be.  She'd obey his orders
alright but he was certain she'd leave her wounded mount only
when she saw more trees than sky.
     "Yellowstone Tower, this is RSF Delta.  We've got an
emergency here and need a vector to immediate landing."
     "Roger, RSF Delta.  Do you require the Crash Team?"
     Jeff glanced over at Daisy.  He could see her fighting the
controls.  "Yeah, and get the rescue chopper up."
     "Rescue One is airborne and on its way.  You are clear for
immediate landing on Runway One Seven."
     "Cleared for One Seven, Roger."  Jeff looked around at his
team.  "Okay, Daisy gets priority.  Nancy, you ride her wing down
but don't get too close."
     "You know it.  I don't want her sticking her fat wing in my
butt when she loses that critter," Nancy said, her Veritech
reappearing on the far side of Daisy's.
     "I'm going to make it."  Daisy's voice came across much
stronger and more certain this time.  It probably wasn't because
her situation had improved.
     "Rescue chopper ten o'clock low," Missy called.
     "Roger, I've got it.  We're over the boundary now."  He
looked at Daisy once more.  "Good luck, Mills."
     Daisy's lack of a response didn't particularly concern him. 
From the look of her craft, she had her hands full and her mind
totally locked on saving her Veritech.  He could see one of the
engine nacelles starting to droop slightly.  That wasn't good. 
In a transformable craft like a Veritech, if the locks failed,
only positive hydraulic pressure held it in whatever
configuration the pilot desired.  Total loss of pressure could
cause the fighter to go 'limp'; totally losing control of its
many reconfigurable sections.  In flight, that would cause the
craft to tear itself apart as thrusters and air resistance worked
against each other.  He'd never seen it happen himself but from
what he'd heard, it usually happened so fast the pilot didn't
have time to get out.  He was certain Daisy had heard the same
stories.
     Watching her Veritech make a sloppy turn towards the runway,
a thousand suggestions roamed through his head but remained
safely locked away.  She had more important things to do than
listening to advice she probably already knew.
     Over the approach lights, about a hundred yards short of the
runway, the loose engine nacelle slipped further out of position,
its thrust slowly pushing the fighter off balance.  He saw the
engine shut down.  Daisy must have done it to compensate. 
However, that just created a yaw problem with the other engine
trying to push the fighter nose left and there was just so much
she could do to correct with opposite rudder.  The fighter was
now sliding off line, heading for the grass between the runway
and the taxiway.  It looked for sure like she was going to lose
it completely.
     The other engine nacelle began to droop just as she crossed
the runway threshold.  In desperation, she shut down the other
engine, kicked the rudder hard right long enough to straighten
out and let the drooping bird settle heavily onto the concrete,
directly on the numbers.  A shower of sparks marked the
deflectors dragging along the concrete until the nose wheel made
contact.  The massive shocks in the landing gear bottomed out and
Jeff could see the whole fighter shudder on impact.  It bounced
and wiggled but held together, rolling in a semi-controlled state
off the runway onto an access taxiway before Daisy was finally
able to bring the big fighter to a halt.
     Nancy whooped for joy, cranking her Veritech into a low-
altitute victory roll down the length of the runway.  "Way to go,
Bee-Bee!" she yelled.
     By the time the three of them went around again and landed
successfully, Daisy was out of her Veritech and opening access
panels on the craft's belly.  Crash vehicles stood by, some of
the would-be rescuers idly standing around talking amongst
themselves.
     "Missy.  Nancy.  You guys taxi home and send back that
aircraft tug Gloria fixed yesterday.  I want our bird in the
hangar where Capt Lynn can have a good look at it."  Jeff turned
away from the others and brought his Veritech to a stop a few
yards from Daisy's stricken fighter.  He barely heard the two
radioing their acknowledgment as he pulled off his helmet and
cracked the canopy.
     His engines were still spooling down when he jumped out of
the cockpit and trotted over to Daisy.
     "You okay?" he asked, kneeling down and placing a hand on
her shoulder.
     She turned to him with a face spotted with oil and hydraulic
fluid.  Her smile looked strained.  An unsteady hand gripped his
wrist.  "I'm okay, sir.  Really," she said, her voice shaking
like it was just barely under control.
     "That was some pretty impressive flying, young lady."  He
could see the tension of the last few moments on her face and
hear it in her voice.  She'd just cheated death and come away
with her fighter intact.  Quite an accomplishment.  But he could
see her iron control slipping.  He'd seen that look before. 
Pilots can face any danger while their minds are fully engaged in
escape.  Only afterwards, when the danger had passed, could a
person face the emotional impact of how close they'd really come.
     "It... was...," she started, her lower lip quivering. 
Before she could say anything more, her arms flew around his
neck, her body slamming into his in an impossibly tight hug.
     Reluctantly, Jeff held the trembling pilot, his arms
encircling her strong body, a hand slowing rubbing her back.  He
could feel her hot breath on his neck as she gasped and
shuddered, fighting for control where none was possible.  "You
did good, Daisy.  You did real good.  I wouldn't have faulted you
if you'd bailed out."
     Daisy sniffed, wiping her face on the shoulder of his clean
flight suit.  "Truth is...  well, I'm a little scared of those
damned ejection seats."
     "They're better than the alternative."
     As her forehead came to rest on his shoulder, she sniffed
again and said: "I know that but they still scare me.  Silly,
isn't it?  Being scared of the one thing that could probably save
my life."  She licked her lips and took a deep breath.  "Please
don't tell the others.  They think I'm... you know," she said in
a tiny voice that sounded more like a frightened little girl than
a tough veteran Veritech pilot.
     "Your secret is safe with me," Jeff replied, his eyes
roaming over the crash team huddling together and casting curious
expressions his way.  "In the mean time..."  He separated from
Daisy's clutches.  Unzipping his flight suit a little ways, he
pulled out his flying scarf and started wiping Daisy's stained
face.
     "We've got to get you cleaned up.  The others will be back
soon.  It wouldn't be good for them to see one of my Flight
Leaders like this."
     Daisy stopped him by grabbing his forearm and staring
incredulously.  "What did you say?"
     "From now on, you're one of my Flight Leaders," Jeff replied
with a serious look.
     "Sir, I'm only a Lieutenant."
     "That can be fixed."
     "I don't have combat experience."
     "You will."
     "But why me?"
     Jeff went back to wiping Daisy's face.  "I've been watching
you.  You're a natural.  A little rough around the edges but you
have something that can't be taught; people want to follow you."
     Daisy blushed.  "That's only because I'm bigger than they
are," she said.
     "That may be part of it but I've seen something else.  They
respect you, not for your size but for what you bring to them;
confidence."  Jeff glanced at the sound of an approaching
aircraft tug.  "You make good decisions and you can make others
believe you are confident in those decisions.  That's the basis
of good leadership; getting those you lead to believe they can do
the job."
     Daisy wiped her nose on a sleeve.  "If you say so, sir."
     They both looked up as the tug turned onto the access
taxiway leading to Daisy's fighter.  Gail was driving and little
Anne was riding on one of the fenders, her legs dangling over the
side.
     Jeff stood up and held a hand out for Daisy.  As their hands
clasp together, their eyes locked.  His confident smile caused
her to blush again.  It had been a long time since a guy made her
feel special, even if he was only interested in her command
abilities.
     "I figure the other two leaders will be Capt Parino and Capt
Littlebear," Jeff said as he helped Daisy to her feet.
     "What about Capt Fox?" Daisy replied, brushing off her
flight suit.
     "She's the Executive Officer.  If and when she flies, it'll
be with me."  Jeff waved to Gail and saw her grin in return.
     "I won't disappoint you, sir."
     "I'm sure you'll do fine."  As the tug passed the departing
crash vehicles, Jeff looked off in the distance.  "By the way,
why did Nancy call you Bee-Bee?"
     Daisy winced and slowly rolled her eyes his way, finishing
with a truly incredulous expression.  She couldn't believe he was
so naive as to not know.  "It's just a nickname."
     "It would make a dandy call sign."
     "I'll have to think about it."

     Nancy plopped her helmet on Katherine's desk and leaned on
it.  "Well, we've now got four Veritechs.  That's a good start."
     "Three," Katherine corrected without looking up from her
paperwork.  "The one Lt Mills was flying is out of service."
     "It's just a compensator valve.  You can pick up one of
those just about anywhere."
     With a heavy sigh, Katherine rocked back in her chair, her
eyes half open.  She flexed her fingers like all the writing had
given her a cramp.  "I just wish I knew where we could get more."
     "Maybe we can make something out of the junkers in the
hangar."
     Katherine shook her head.  "No, Capt Lynn has already looked
them over.  There's not enough working parts in all six to make
even one functional Veritech.  At least, not one I'd risk a pilot
in.  They're little more than rolling shells."
     Drumming her fingers on her helmet, Nancy nodded and gave
the problem serious thought.  Front line Veritechs were in such
demand that someone would practically have to steal to obtain
them.  The Rehab Detachment had provided all that was available. 
Sure, they might be able to piece together a couple more, given
time, but that would be too little, too late.  This squadron
needed twenty or more and they needed them right away.  It wasn't
like there were a bunch of Veritechs just sitting around...
     Her fingers stopped in mid-drum as what she was thinking
fully hit her.  "Captain, would they have to be 'A', 'J', or 'S'
models?"
     "What else is there?"
     "Didn't you used to fly 'D' models?"
     "Two-seat Trainers?" Katherine said like the idea had never
occurred to her.
     "Yeah, *armed* two-seat trainers," Nancy noted with a grin.
     Katherine bounded out of her seat with such force the chair
banged into the wall behind.  Yanking open the door to her
office, she barked: "Graywolf!  Wallace!  In here, NOW!"
     Returning to her desk, she stroked her chin like she was
forming a plan.
     "Sir?" Cindy said, entering the office like she was in some
sort of trouble.  Gloria followed, almost cowering behind the
Admin Officer.
     "Check to see where the VF-1D's from the old training
squadron are," Katherine said, looking out the window behind her
desk.
     "Already have," Cindy replied.  "They're still parked
outside the training squadron headquarters.  Nobody wants them."
     Katherine began to nod slowly.  "That's understandable.  All
the targeting and fire control systems were removed.  Some of
them had pretty hard treatment at the hands of trainee pilots."
     "Operationally speaking, they're worthless," Nancy added
like she understood where Katherine was going.
     "I'll bet Col Stuart's friend can get the parts," Cindy said
with growing excitement.
     "I'll bet he can do better than that."  Nancy's own
excitement became apparent.
     "You two have been working on the supply problem all day,"
Katherine said, turning around and eyeing Cindy and Gloria.  "The
training squadron had twelve good VF-1D's assigned to them."  She
paused, her voice dropping to almost a growl.  "I want those
Veritechs."
     Cindy and Gloria exchanged devious looks.
     "What do you say, partner?  Shall we engage in a little
grand theft Veritech?" Cindy said, rubbing her hands together.
     Gloria shrugged.  "I don't see why not.  We're only up to
fifty years apiece in brig time so far."
     They started to leave when Cindy turned back to ask:
"Anything we can get you?"
     "Whatever's not nailed down."
     Cindy's grin was added to by Gloria's pirate impression from
somewhere deeper in the room.  "Arrr, prepare to be boarded, me
hearty."
     The door had barely closed behind the pair of buccaneers
when Nancy shook her head.  "I've never seen two people who
enjoyed their work like that."
     Katherine settled back into her chair and leaned forward,
her chin supported on the backs of her folded hands.  "Now, if
they could just get me some help with this paperwork."

     Jeff had barely gotten back to his office when the phone
rang.  It was General Emerson.
     "Jeffrey, what's going on over there?"  The General didn't
sound happy.
     "I'm afraid you have the advantage on me," he said, tossing
his flight bag on the sofa.  "Could you be more specific?"
     "I know your wife's people were master horse thieves and
lord knows, you have more than your share of them but this has
got to stop."
     "Why would my people be stealing horses, sir."
     "Dammit, Stuart," the General yelled.  "I'm talking about
supplies.  The phones here have been ringing off the hook.  I'm
getting complaints from everywhere.  The Ordnance Office has four
box cars loaded with munitions awaiting orders of where to send
them.  The Simulation Center is booked solid for the next two
weeks with nothing but your pilots.  I've got crates missing off
of shipping docks, vehicles suddenly being reassigned, and
strange Veritechs dropping in out of nowhere.  My secretary is
getting complaints about missing uniforms, spare parts, and
office supplies."
     "How do you know my people are responsible?"
     "Geez-Laweeze, somebody even took my damned palm data
organizer!"
     "I'm sorry to hear that."
     "Stuart, when you and your scavengers finally leave, if
there is anything left, this base is going to throw the biggest
party."
     "Oh, am I invited?"
     "NO!"
     "Can Colonel Hogan come?"
     Rolf sighed.  "Look, you can keep the rest of the stuff. 
Heck, I don't even want to know what you're going to do with four
box cars full of munitions.  I just want my organizer back."
     "I'll ask around and see if anyone knows anything about it."
     "Fine."
     Jeff flinched at the loud 'click' of a phone hanging up. 
There were times Rolf could be so emotional, he thought.  After
all, his girls weren't organized bandits.  They might get a
little excited every once in awhile but stealing?  No, they'd
never do that.
     He chuckled as he turned towards the window.  What he saw
stacked outside caused him to choke.
     There was a small mountain of hard plastiform shipping cases
beginning at the back of the day room and stretching towards the
perimeter fence.  It looked like a shipping case storage
facility.
     "What the..." he gasped.  This couldn't be happening.  There
had to be half the base supply inventory out there.
     Turning to his office door, he knew just who to ask.  She
knew everything.
     Cracking open the door, the first person he saw was
Katherine opening a small box with Mary.
     "An organizer!" Katherine squealed with delight.  "How did
you ever come up with one.  These things are almost impossible to
get."
     "Oh, I just picked it up.  Cindy did the hard stuff," Mary
said with an innocent grin and a glance at the Admin Officer. 
"Are you sure it's okay?"
     "Okay?  It's perfect," Katherine replied.  "I'm going to
download the squadron files right now."  She turned towards her
office.  "This is going to be so neat."
     Closing the door again, he slumped against its frame.  What
on earth is going on?  Even the quiet Mary Cook-Lynn had become a
thief.  Were they all turning into bandits?  Sure, he said they
were to use whatever means they could to equip the squadron but
stealing from General Emerson was going too far.  This had to
stop.
     His hand gripped the door knob when his phone rang again. 
He hesitated.  Door or the phone?  Door or the phone?
     With a sigh, he walked over to the phone and picked it up.
     "Stuart here," he said.
     "Jeffrey?"  It was Rolf Emerson again.  Strangely, he
sounded less hostile this time.  "Scratch the palm organizer.  My
secretary had mine.  She was uploading the new phone list on it."
     "I'm glad to hear that," Jeff said after a deep breath.  Now
all he had to do was figure out where the one they gave Katherine
came from.
     "By the way, I see I transferred the training squadron's
Veritechs to your outfit.  Looks like I'm getting smarter in my
old age."
     "I'm glad to hear that, sir," Jeff replied before adding:
"About the Veritechs, I mean."
     "Funny thing is, I can't remember authorizing their
transfer."
     "Well, maybe you're also getting forgetful in your old age,"
Jeff said, casting a glance at the door and wondering just what
else the girls had done in his absence.
     "Maybe," Rolf said slowly like he didn't really believe it
himself.  "In any case, IF you happen to come across whomever
ordered the transfer, tell them it was good thinking."
     "If I happen to run into them, I'll do that."
     "One other thing.  You might also add that I'd appreciate if
they'd stop using my codes.  The people at Monument City already
think I'm crazy as it is.  If they find out about all the stuff
I'm supposedly sending to one squadron, they'll put me away in a
white uniform with sleeves that tie in the back."
     "I'll send you a nice fruit basket, sir."
     "Did anyone ever tell you you're funny?" Rolf asked in a
disgusted voice.
     "Well, no.  At least, not that I recall."
     "I didn't think so."
     Another loud 'click' of the General's phone being hung up
caused Jeff to vow not to answer anymore unscreened phone calls.
     That just left what to do about his little computer hackers
in the next room.  Considering what they did, he could rightly
admonish them for going outside the boundaries of regulations. 
But then, he *did* tell them to use 'all steps necessary' to
provide for the squadron's needs.  Still, their little antics
needed to come to an end.
     With a sigh, he opened the door.  "That's why I get the big
bucks," he muttered to himself.
     Wandering out into the main room, he casually looked around
like he wasn't interest in anything in particular.  Cindy and
Gloria were huddled around Cindy's computer typing furiously and
pausing long enough to giggle like school girls.  Well, they were
the best place to start, he thought.  Maybe he'd just ask for the
duty roster and let that lead into a discussion of what they're
up to.
     He ambled over to Cindy's desk and leaned on the monitor. 
Before he could say anything, Cindy picked up a clipboard and
held it towards him.
     "What's this?" he asked, taking the clipboard but continuing
to eye Cindy suspiciously.
     "The duty roster, sir," she said without looking his way. 
"Isn't that what you wanted?"
     Cindy pointed at something on the screen and the two giggled
together again.  
     Jeff, meanwhile, flipped through the duty roster, not really
paying much attention, before idly asking: "By the way, I was
also curious how you arranged for all the supplies stacked out
back."
     "The General authorized all that stuff," Gloria said with a
couple of uncertain glances his way.  Cindy too stopped giggling
and listened carefully.
     "According to General Emerson, he didn't authorize any of
that stuff, although he did approve of the VF-1D transfer.  Good
thinking, by the way."
     Cindy slid off her glasses and cleaned them on a cloth,
rubbing the lenses between two slender fingers.  "Well, in a
manner of speaking, he did approve our requests."
     "Would you care to elaborate?"
     Cindy started to explain but did such a poor job of it that
Gloria interrupted her.  "It's really quite simple.  I room with
General Emerson's secretary, Megan, and she told me how they do
things in his office.  Every day, she sorts and arranges all the
electronic requests for approval into a single file on their
server.  At his convenience, General Emerson opens the file and
picks the requests he wants to approve.  The others go into
another file and are routed to some other assistant for follow
up."
     "So far, I'm with you," Jeff said.  Strangely enough, this
was actually making sense.
     "Anyway, all I did was slip a routine on Megan's computer so
that when she rebooted it held the General's approved file open
until I slipped in our requests.  Megan, thinking they were just
part of what he approved, added all the official codes and stuff
before sending them on their way."  Gloria slumped back in her
chair like she'd just given confession and was awaiting
absolution.
     "So you see, sir, we didn't really steal any codes and we
certainly didn't steal any supplies," Cindy said, fitting her
glasses back in place.  "We just used the system to get what we
needed."
     "But the General didn't know about those requests," Jeff
noted, trying to make certain they understood he wasn't pleased
with their methods.
     "Sir, all we did was use the bureaucracy to our advantage,"
Cindy insisted.  "If we wait for everyone to rubber stamp our
requests, pass them on so other people could rubber stamp them,
and then wait some more, we'll find ourselves sitting in the
middle of our new base eating wild rabbits and throwing rocks at
our opponents."
     Jeff was about note that at some point, there were going to
be questions about all the stuff they took but stopped himself. 
Maybe, the girls had the right idea all along.  Besides, he
really couldn't complain too much.  After all, he *did* turn them
loose on the problem and they did get the stuff the squadron
needed using a little initiative and ingenuity.  In the final
analysis, the RDF would only be slightly inconvenienced, everyone
had the required paperwork for their files, and his squadron had
what it needed.
     He was about to congratulate them on their ingenuity when he
noticed Gloria's eyes go wide.
     Turning to see what she was looking at, he saw Ona Parino
standing quietly just inside the front doors.
     "Captain Parino.  I'm glad to see you back," he said, his
pleasure at seeing her on her feet again undisguised.
     "Thank you, sir," she said in a soft voice.  "Could I speak
with you in your office?"
     "Of course," he said, not certain he understood.  She looked
okay but the quiet confidence he usually saw in her was gone. 
Instead, she was acting like a rape victim.
     As she passed him heading towards his office, he looked once
more at Cindy and Gloria.  Cindy appeared happy enough at the
Captain's return but Gloria's expression was one of total relief,
like a judge's sentence had been overruled.
     "Carry on," he said before turning to follow Ona.  
     He didn't get far.
     "Jeffrey?" Gail called, wiping her hands on a rag as she
stomped into the office.  Her work coveralls were stained with
hydraulic fluid and her hair looked like she'd just taken a
shower in the stuff.  "I can't do this alone.  Daisy, Nancy, and
Anne are certainly helpful but they're pilots.  I can't expect
them to fly *and* maintain their own fighters.  I need a real
maintenance crew."
     Holding up his hands in front of him, Jeff said in a
distracted manner: "Okay, I'll... I'll work on it."
     "I hope you do better than that."
     "I'll get you help," Jeff insisted before leaning closer and
saying in a low voice: "And I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't use
my first name in here.  I may be your brother-in-law but I'm also
your commanding officer."
     Gail sighed.  "Fine.  You get me a crew and I'll stop
calling you 'Jeffrey'."
     Figuring that was about as good as could expect from Gail,
he nodded his approval and turned to see what Ona wanted in his
office.
     She certainly wasn't acting like herself.  In fact, the only
time he could recall her behaving in this manner was the day she
reported - in handcuffs.
     Closing the door behind him, he worked his way around the
desk to his chair.  Before sitting down, he checked Ona once
more.  She looked physically okay and wearing the correct
uniform.  The way she sat with her long legs crossed, causing the
hem on her uniform skirt to ride up enough to about mid-thigh,
confirmed there was nothing wrong that he could see.
     "So, what's on your mind?" he asked, settling into his
squeaky office chair.
     "First of all, I want to apologize for my actions
yesterday," she said like it was a most painful act.  "It was
inexcusable.  I caused material damage to RDF property, attacked
RDF personnel, and generally disrupted the activities of an RDF
facility.  It would be better for everyone concerned..."  She
paused long enough to swallow hard.  "...if I resigned."
     Jeff slumped back in his chair.  "You can't be serious."
     "Sir, please don't make this harder than it is."
     "You were injured.  You weren't responsible for your
actions."
     "Be that as it may, I still did all the things I mentioned
and such actions are unacceptable for someone in my position."
     Jeff stared at her.  "Aren't you blowing the whole incident
out of proportion?"
     "What happened yesterday could happen again.  I don't want
to be responsible for hurting members of this squadron and that's
exactly what will happen if I have a relapse."
     With a grimace, Jeff leaned forward in his chair.  "I can't
accept that.  What happened yesterday was atypical of your
behavior.  It was caused by a blow to your head."
     "Which can happen again," she said, interrupting him and
looking miserable doing so.
     "Maybe but I'm willing to gamble that it won't."
     "But what if it does?  Are you willing to accept the
consequences?"
     "Yes, because I know what I'm getting if it doesn't happen;
a highly skilled, eminently qualified, Flight Leader who the
other pilots look up to and respect.  You know what it takes to
survive and be successful in a hostile environment.  You're
Zentraedi, dammit.  Act like it."  He hated to verbally strike
her like this but she wasn't acting like herself.  She was
behaving irrationally.
     "Sir, you have no idea what it was like," she insisted, her
eyes closed tightly.  "I felt like something had taken control of
my body, making me do things I didn't want.  I can still feel the
fear and rage.  It scared even me.  It was like looking into a
black pit full of insane creatures."
     "We all have demons inside us, Captain.  What makes us
civilized is our ability to control them.  I know you are still
exploring the emotions that go along with being human.  Some of
them are a little scary but you shouldn't give up just because
one frightens you."
     "What I experienced wasn't human.  It might happen again,"
she insisted.
     "Might but unlikely," Jeff shot back.  "I talked to Dr
Takahashi at the hospital.  She tells me there is no case on
record of a repeat incident."
     "That's because they usually kill the Zentraedi during the
first one," Ona said, her eyes burning into Jeff's.
     "I won't let that happen."
     "You may not be able to stop it."
     "I'll take that chance."
     "What about the others?  Are they willing to take that
chance as well?"
     "The only way you'll find out is to stay."  Jeff stood up
and glared at Ona.  "You run from this and you'll spend the rest
of your life running.  That would be a mistake.  You can never
outrun yourself, Ona."
     He could see how that last argument shook the big Zentraedi
enough to leave her speechless.  It was cruel but unavoidable.
     "Ona, we need you.  I need you.  I can't make this squadron
work without your help."
     When Ona looked up, he could see something in her deep blue
eyes that almost made him regret his words.  Her face might have
remained expressionless but her eyes were like someone who had
seen something that scared her beyond words.
     "Last time you faced a crucial decision, you wound up in the
brig.  I don't want that to happen again so I'm extending your
medical leave until tomorrow at 0700.  Go wherever you need to
think.  Don't worry.  The job is still yours until you say
otherwise.  Deal?"  Jeff cocked his head to elicit a response.
     Ona shifted in her seat, her eyes dropping to the floor. 
"Okay.  I'll think about what you said and I'll give you my
answer in the morning."
     "Fair enough," Jeff said.  "If you decide to go, I'll have
the paperwork ready."
     "Thank you," Ona replied, standing up.  In a gesture
reminiscent of a true human woman, she smoothed her skirt with a
strong but delicate hand.
     He escorted her back out into the main office area.  Neither
spoke on their way to the front door.  All that needed to be
said, had been.
     Holding the front door for her, he saw her hesitate, like
stepping through the door would irreparably change her forever.
     "I want to thank you for this, sir," she said without
looking his way.  "If Col Robertson in the Amazon had done this,
we might not have met."
     "Well, in that case, I have Col Robertson to thank," Jeff
replied, harboring a small smile.
     "Tomorrow morning - 0700," she said before turning to leave.
     Jeff watched her lightly descend the stairs and walk across
the tarmac, heading towards Grant Barracks.  She looked so alone. 
That wasn't right, he thought.  She deserved to have friends,
maybe even some sort of family around at a time like this.
     Family, he thought bitterly.  What would a clone know about
family.  Born from a tube in a lab, they come into the world
alone.  No mother, no father, no other siblings to share a common
experience.  They never get to experience the kind of love only a
family could provide.  No wonder she felt so alone.
     "Sir?"
     "Yes, Lieutenant?"  He continued to watch Ona slowly make
her lonely way back into the confusing world of humans.
     "Captain Fox won't tell you herself but she's really snowed
under," Cindy said.
     "We all are."
     "Well, what are the chances of getting an office staff from
Personnel?"
     Jeff sighed and closed the front door.  "About the same as
me being appointed Supreme Commander."
     "Oh."
     "Tell Captain Fox to use her discretion and do the best she
can," Jeff said, starting for his office.
     "Sir?"
     "Yes, Lieutenant?"
     "Is Captain Parino going to be okay?"
     Jeff paused, still facing his door.  He didn't want to even
think about the chances of Ona's return.  "I don't know.  What
happened over at the hospital yesterday really did something to
her.  For the first time, I think she got a good look at what she
could become."  He looked over his shoulder at Cindy and Gloria. 
"She's feeling pretty alone right now.  There aren't any other
female Zentraedi on the base she can talk to.  I can't imagine
ever being that alone; planet bound on a world full of people you
don't fully understand and don't even begin to understand you. 
Damn, that's got to be the loneliest feeling in the universe."
     With another deep breath, he started again for his office,
stopping only when he got to the door and saw his desk covered
with paperwork.  On top of everything else, there was always the
paperwork.
     "Not today," he said to himself.  Slapping the door frame,
he turned on his heel and strode confidently towards the door.
     "Where are you going, sir?" Cindy called.
     "I'm going over to the Simulation Center.  Who's flying?"
     "Lieutenant Fox and Corporal Crowkiller.  Gloria and
Sergeant Mills are scheduled for 1400."
     "Fine," Jeff called from the stairs.
     "Sir?  What about the daily report?  You haven't signed it
yet," Cindy called, waving the paper over her head.
     "Leave it on my desk," came Jeff's voice from out front
somewhere.
     Cindy was about to yell something about that was where
yesterday's report was; buried under all the other forms,
reports, and memos, when she remembered his signature stamp had
arrived in the morning mail.
     "Well, if you won't sign them...," she mumbled, pulling out
the stamp and making the proper imprint on the report before
adding an exact copy of his initials next to it.  "Perfect."
     "You know, you can get in a lot of trouble doing that,"
Gloria noted, her arms crossed and wearing a look of disapproval.
     "Get real.  We just spent the morning hijacking everything
not nailed down on this base and you're worried about some silly
signature on a form nobody is going to read anyway?"  Cindy
returned Gloria's frown.
     With a loud sigh, Gloria shook her head.  "We're both going
to wind up in the brig."
     "Then take my advice, ask for a cell on the east side.  It
gets the morning sun and warms up faster," Cindy said with a sly
grin.  "Now, go get the rest of those forms and stuff off the
Colonel's desk."
     Slapping her knees as she got up, Gloria cast a sly grin of
her own Cindy's way.  "I could get to like this sneaky stuff."
     Cindy switched to a pirate voice.  "Arrrr, matey."
     "Arrrr."

     The Yellowstone Simulation Center was probably the most
modern facility on the base.  Five floors, four underground, it
housed a pair of the most advanced holographic simulation
equipment the RDF could provide.  It was so realistic that even
veterans sometimes came out of their sessions shaking and covered
with sweat.  It certainly had that effect on Jeff the times *he*
used it.
     Pausing briefly to sign in, he frowned at the posted
schedule.  From the looks of things, his pilots were the only
ones on the schedule.  Even some of the veterans were listed for
advanced-situation review.  Well, they were certainly making good
use of the facility, he mused.
     Cleared for the lower levels, he walked past the cavernous
simulations room.  Despite the observation windows that
overlooked the forty-foot high first floor where all the action
was supposed to take place, there really wasn't much to see.  The
simulations themselves took place in a virtual world centered on
the cockpit of whatever weapon platform was being used.  Today,
it was a pair of Veritechs with two very rookie pilots at the
controls.
     Going down two levels, Jeff entered the sim center's control
room.  Most of the control stations were empty; the facility
staffing having long been reduced to minimum levels.  He smiled
at the sight of a familiar figure reclining in his high-backed
control chair, his feet on the console and surrounded by a cloud
of pipe smoke.
     "How are they doing?" Jeff asked as he approached.
     "Hey, Lighthorse," the man in the chair replied.  "Those two
in there yours?"
     "So far."  Jeff slid into one of the neighboring control
chairs.
     "Well, they're eager as hell but I gotta tell ya, they're
really raw."
     Jeff traded grins with the man, his former Flight Leader in
Eagle Squadron and now the Simulation Center Chief Controller. 
"How's the arm?" he asked.
     The man held up his right arm and wiggled its fingers. 
"Just had its thousand mile checkup.  Works almost as good as the
original," he said with a broad smile, a pipe clenched in his
teeth.  Blowing out an aromatic cloud, he adjusted a couple of
settings on the panel in front of him.
     "Hey, you're not supposed to smoke down here," Jeff noted
with a wry grin.
     The man leaned forward to reach another switch.  "Yeah,
that's what they tell me."
     Jeff slapped the man on his broad back and chuckled.  "You
haven't changed a bit, Mad Dog."
     "Not since you pulled me out of what was left of my Veritech
at Butte Ridge."
     "Well, most of you anyway."
     Rubbing his mechanical replacement arm, Major Tom 'Mad Dog'
Davis wrinkled his nose and shrugged.  "It's just an arm.  I
suspect that's why the RDF issued us two."
     Mad Dog was one of the last to fall at Butte Ridge.  Holding
together a group of jittery rookies, he kept the rebel Zentraedi
from flanking Jeff and the main position.  He lost his entire
command doing it.  Despite recommendations from everyone
involved, he was the only person overlooked when honors were
given to the victors of the historic battle.  All he got for his
sacrifice was a replacement arm and a cushy job running the
simulation facility at Yellowstone base.
     "Who's the IP?" Jeff asked, hoping the change of subject and
avoid reopening old wounds.
     "The Instructor Pilot in command today is none other than
Lieutenant Colonel 'Dutch' DeWitt, the old coot."
     "Is *he* still alive?"  Jeff was genuinely surprised to hear
one of the original Veritech pilots, especially one as old as
'Dutch' DeWitt, was still working.  Dutch was old enough to
remember flying early jet fighters with their heavy, underpowered
engines and ineffective weapons.  He had been an Instructor Pilot
during the Global Civil War and qualified in every combat
aircraft in the Western Alliance inventory.  At age 47, he
stunned everyone by qualifying to fly one of the earliest
Veritech models.  He went on to command the RDF's Flight Training
School until he supposedly retired ten years ago.  For some
reason, the RDF couldn't do without him.  Not that he objected.
Since his wife died, the RDF was all he had left.  So, it wasn't
unusual to find him serving as an 'unofficial' IP at Yellowstone.
     "Yes, the old coot in question is still alive and still able
to kick your Virginia ham when I want to," came a raspy old voice
over the loudspeaker.
     "Howdy, Dutch.  How're my trainees doing?"
     "Well, if you can get that mechanical moron running the
console to reset this gizmo, I'll show you."
     "Still cuddly as ever," Mad Dog said, typing in a series of
instructions on his keyboard.
     "Cuddly as a porcupine," Jeff noted.
     "Alright, ya old reprobate, I've reset them at the end of
Runway One Niner.  Wind is One-Eight-Zero at seven knots. 
Visibility unlimited, ceiling unlimited.  No traffic in the
pattern and no bad guys on the screen.  It's show time."
     "Alpha Flight rolling," came Samantha's voice over the
speaker.
     Old Col DeWitt's voice sounded like a grandfather teaching
one of his kids how to fly.  "Easy girl.  Don't yank it off the
ground.  These birds just love to fly.  Let 'em do what we built
'em for."
     Mad Dog switched on the view panels and settled back to
watch the fun.  Six screens showed everything from an outside
shot of each virtual fighter as it rolled down the runway to
views of the pilots in their cockpits.  Samantha looked like she
was born to do this but Linda appeared decidedly nervous.
     "The older one took to flying Veritechs like a duck to water
but I gotta tell you, her companion is really fighting it," Mad
Dog said, flipping on the mission recorder and leaning back in
his seat, blowing another cloud of smoke from his pipe.  The room
smelled like the inside of a humidor.
     "Well, Samantha has the advantage of her older sister,
Katherine," Jeff replied, watching the virtual Veritechs soar
gracefully off the runway and start a gentle climbing turn.
     "Katherine Fox?" Mad Dog said with a satisfied nod.  "She
was one of the best in the old outfit.  It shows."
     "Linda's probably going through adjustments from the fanjet
she learned on.  Everything moves faster in a Veritech."
     Mad Dog nodded and spit out a tiny bit of ash he'd sucked
through his pipe stem.  "She'll be okay.  She just needs a little
TLC."
     "Damn right," Dutch crowed over the loudspeaker.  "When I'm
through with 'em, they'll kick butt and take names."
     With a minor adjustment to the boom mike on his headset, Mad
Dog snorted: "Heads up.  One of your 'ass kickers' is about to
lose it."
     Jeff looked at the screen showing Linda's virtual fighter
skidding in her turn, the airspeed dropping dangerously.
     "Darlin', you're heavy on the rudder again," Dutch chided in
a grandfatherly way.  "Remember what I told you about using a
light touch."
     Linda's acknowledgment was followed by the virtual fighter
recovering below and behind Samantha's.  It had lost a lot of
speed and trailed her partner's craft by a respectable distance
but it appeared to be under control again.  It was tough for Jeff
to watch.
     "I better be getting along," he said.  "I've got stuff to
do."
     Mad Dog stopped him with a hand on his arm.  "I hear you're
taking these girls someplace really nasty."
     "It could be nasty, yes."
     With another glance at the screens, Mad Dog added: "I'll
extend the operating hours if you can get Katherine to spell
Dutch in the evenings.  You know as well as I do, these girls are
gonna need the extra time."
     Jeff patted his friend's arm.  That was one of the things he
liked about Mad Dog; he had a protective nature for rookies.
"Thanks.  I appreciate that."
     Mad Dog shrugged.  "No problem.  I'd sure hate to see one of
these pretty young things get killed.  Ain't right.  They're
young.  They deserve a better life."
     "We were young once."
     "Yeah, well, gettin' old does things to a fella.  Gets him
to thinkin'."
     Jeff leaned over and looked his friend in the eyes.  "I know
what you're saying but don't go thinking too much.  Just get them
as ready as you can.  I'll do the rest."
     With a final wink, Jeff started for the door.  He was almost
there when Mad Dog added: "They're lucky they've got you,
Colonel."
     "Let's hope they feel that way a month from now."
     

     "Look at the time," Katherine groaned as she stepped out of
her office and stretched.  "I can't believe I worked through
lunch."
     Cindy turn in her chair and regarded Katherine with an odd
expression.  "I'm not surprised.  You and I are trying to do
everything ourselves."
     Katherine sighed heavily.  "If we don't get some help in
here soon, we might not be able to relocate to our new base. 
There'll be so much unfinished paperwork, they won't let us
leave."
     Cindy considered the problem for a moment before making a
hesitant suggestion.  "Well, I've been thinking about that and I 
may know of some people who could help but I'm not sure --"
     "I don't care anymore," Katherine said, cutting off Cindy's
explanation.  "Just get them in here and fast."
     Cindy raised her eyebrows and said more as a warning than an
acknowledgment: "Okay, if that's what you want." 
     If Katherine heard her, she gave no indication.  Grabbing an
apple out of the little office refrigerator, she stomped back
into her office and shut the door.  It was four hours till
quitting time and she still had eight hours of work.
     It was going to be a long afternoon.


     Gloria and Virginia finished their hour in the simulator
just before dinner.  Virginia almost missed her turn due to her
truck breaking down just outside Lone Rock.  Fortunately, the RDF
Security patrol arrived right on schedule.
     A convenient excuse for her being there, a couple of winks
and hints of availability Saturday night, and the security team
fell all over themselves fixing her truck.  It took only a little
more sweet-talk to get them to escort her back to Yellowstone.
     "Wow, that old man in there was really tough," Virginia
noted, using a towel from her bag to dab perspiration off her
slender neck.
     "I guess," Gloria answered, partially lost in thought. 
"Sure is different than doing it on my own."
     "Well, don't feel too bad."  Virginia draped an extra towel
around Gloria's neck and patted her shoulder.  "I'm sure crashing
twelve times isn't a record or anything."
     "I sure hope not."  Gloria cast one last frown at the
massive Simulation Center before sighing.  "Anyway, I'm hungry."
     "You're always hungry."
     "Hey, after strenuous exercise I hear it's good to eat
something."
     "Yes, something like a granola bar *not* half the
commissary."
     "But I'm hungry," Gloria moaned, holding her stomach to
emphasize her complaint.
     "Fine," Virginia said with a sigh.  After digging in her
flight suit to check on her current finances, she frowned at the
results.  "Not much here.  You got any credits?"
     "Not until payday," Gloria admitted, her eyes riveted on the
credits in Virginia's hand.
     "Looks like it's back to the barracks for dinner."
     "Pooh, I really wanted a pizza tonight."


     Cindy lay quietly tucked into her bed, the covers pulled up
around her neck, watching Ona Parino go through her nightly
ritual.  The big Zentraedi set out her uniform for tomorrow,
organized her night stand, and made certain the room was picked
up before pausing in the light coming from the bathroom.  All
that wouldn't have been so unusual except Ona did it every night
the same way; nude.
     At first, the Zentraedi's little quirk concerned Cindy.  It
wasn't natural, she thought.  People weren't supposed to go
around nude in front of others.
     She pulled the covers up further when she noticed Ona's
reflection in the bathroom mirror brushing her beautiful blue
hair.  Despite Cindy's objection to her lack of attire, she
couldn't help but stare at the alien woman's perfect body. 
Everything about her was breathtakingly perfect.  When Ona raised
her arms to brush her hair, her body moved exactly the way Cindy
wished hers could.  Every inch of her roommate's body screamed
'woman' where her own barely whispered 'girl'.  She closed her
eyes and fought a wave of envy.
     Ona finished in the bathroom and switched off the light.  In
the dim moonlight through the windows, Cindy watched Ona stride
confidently over to her dresser.
     "I wish you wouldn't leave," she said in a little girl's
voice.
     Ona paused, her fingers still sorting her meager treasures
on the dresser.  "Who told you I was leaving?"
     "Colonel Stuart just said you were upset.  I guessed you
were thinking about leaving."
     Ona turned and regarded Cindy with a firm expression. "He
shouldn't have told you anything."
     "He's worried about you.  I'm worried about you."
     Cindy couldn't read her roommate's expression in the semi-
darkness but the way the woman turned away suggested irritation.
     "Why?" Ona finally said, her voice lifeless.  There was just
a hint that she didn't understand.
     "I think it has something to do with what happened
yesterday."  Cindy pulled herself a little ways out from under
her covers, like a turtle coming out of its shell.  Her flannel
pajamas barely protected her from the cool air in the room.
     "It does."
     "Well, I don't care what happened.  I don't want you to
leave," Cindy said insistently.    
     "You don't understand.  You *can't* understand."  Ona hugged
herself, her arms flattening her perfect breasts.  Cindy could
see her body shudder.
     "You're worried you could go wild again."
     Ona's head bowed.  "Doesn't that frighten you?  Aren't you
afraid I might revert at any moment, turning into a crazed
killer?"
     "You're not a crazed killer," Cindy insisted.  "You're my
friend."
     Ona stood quietly for a few moments before her body began to
shake.  It ended with a move almost too fast for Cindy to follow.
Snatching her knife from its scabbard, Ona crossed the room in a
single bound.  Grabbing the blonde by her hair, Ona pressed her
back into the bed and snapped the knife to her throat.
     "Would a friend do this to you?" she demanded, her breasts
heaving as she breathed faster.  "What if I woke up in the middle
of the night, lost in that nightmare world, and slit your throat. 
Would I still be your friend?"
     Her eyes locked on the wild Zentraedi's, Cindy's lip
trembled in fear as the blade slowly began to cut into her skin. 
"Yes," she said in a quivering voice.  "You're my friend; the
only friend I've ever had.  If you kill me, you'll be alone
again."  Closing her eyes, she grimaced and awaited Ona's next
action.
     To her surprise, she felt the blade release her.  She
chanced a peek and saw Ona's shocked expression and heard the
knife tumble from her hand.  Slowly, the Zentraedi turned and
slumped to the floor, ending up sitting with her back against the
bed.
     "You would have let me kill you?" Ona said in wonderment.
     "I knew you wouldn't really.  You are my friend, Ona," Cindy
repeated, feeling her throat with a hand and staring at the back
of Ona's head.  "I trust you."
     Drawing her knees up, Ona crossed her arms over her legs and
rolled her head forward until her forehead came to rest on her
arms.  "What's happening to me?" she gasped.  "For just an
instant, I... I could feel it, growing like some wild animal."
     "Ona, you're Zentraedi.  That's part of you.  You can
control it, I know you can," Cindy said, her hand moving to Ona's
bare shoulder.  "I'll help you, if you'll let me."
     "Why would you help a Zentraedi?" Ona said sadly.  "We're
aliens, inhuman monsters.  Remember?"
     "You're not a monster to me," Cindy said.  "You're just
having a little trouble adjusting.  Let me help.  Please?"
     Ona's hand came to cover Cindy's.  "I don't understand."
     Cindy reached over with her other hand and slowly stroked
Ona's soft hair.  "I used to have a roommate in Albuquerque who
lost everyone she knew in the war.  She was all alone and kept to
herself a lot.  At night, I could hear her crying in her bed.  I
couldn't help her because she wouldn't talk to me and I was
afraid of trying harder because she got violent when I did.
     "One night, she just disappeared.  We looked everywhere but
she couldn't be found.  We assumed she went AWOL."  Cindy's voice
dropped low and filled with dread.  "They found her a week later,
up in the mountains.  She'd frozen to death."
     "You cannot run from yourself," Ona said softly.
     "Where did you hear that?"
     "It was something Colonel Stuart said to me this afternoon."
     "He's right but problems are easier to face with a friend. 
All I had to do for that girl in Albuquerque was try a little
harder.  Maybe, she'd be alive today if I had."
     Ona drew a deep breath and slowly let it out.  "Never regret
the mistakes you've made but never repeat the same mistake
twice."
     The lights from a car pulling into the parking lot briefly
illuminated the room enough for Cindy to catch a glimpse of
something few had ever seen; a damp streak on a Zentraedi's
cheek.  Ona had hit bottom.  All the emotions she'd fought so
hard finally overwhelmed her, tearing her last facade of control
to shreds and leaving behind a person more human than before.
     "Ona?"
     The Zentraedi said nothing, her shoulders shaking as she
surrendered to the most embarrassing emotion alien to her people.
     "I know you're scared right now.  When I was a little girl
and got scared, I would crawl in bed with my mother.  She always
made all the things that scared me go away."
     "I'm a clone," Ona said between sniffs.  "We don't have
mothers."
     There was another long pause as Cindy pondered if she should
even attempt to cross the last boundary between them.  Seeing the
broken, lonely woman on the floor in front of her was all it
took.  "You can sleep with me, if you want," she said.
     Ona sniffed again, her hands wiping the embarrassing
evidence of her failure as a Zentraedi.  She slowly turned to
look at the little blonde, the full impact of her loss evident.  
"I can't," she gasped.  "You know my past.  What if something
were to... happen?"
     Cindy smiled.  "Nothing's gonna happen.  Just two friends. 
Okay?"
     "I've only had..."  Ona hung her head, her shoulders
sagging.  "...lovers.  I don't know what it means to have a
friend."
     "Friends help each other.  Sometimes, to make it through the
night, you just need a friend to hold on to."
     Ona hesitated.  She'd fought temptation before but never
like this.  Cindy was certainly cute enough to attract her but
there was something else, something that wouldn't allow her to
seduce the little blonde.  Maybe it was because she'd never
looked at another woman as just a friend.  Maybe since what
happened in South America, she was afraid of getting close enough
to find out.
     "Please?" Cindy begged.  "You're not the only one with
nightmares."
     It took only a moment more for Ona to decide.  With a nod,
she slowly stood up.
     Cindy's eyes roamed up the Zentraedi's naked form and, for
just a moment, she wondered if this was such a good idea.  After
all, admiring Ona's body was one thing but getting this close to
it might be a kind of temptation she wasn't ready to handle.
     As if something made the decision for her, she felt herself
slowly slide closer to the wall, holding up the covers and
beckoning Ona to join her.
     To her relief, the blue-haired woman gracefully slid into
the bed.  As their bodies pressed together, the shared warmth of
their combined forms created a refuge for both.
     Cindy snuggled for a moment and sighed contentedly in the
arms of an older woman; one mature like her late mother.  She
said nothing when Ona's hand cupped her tiny butt.  It was just a
reminder that her friend still had things to learn about the
difference between friend and lover.  For now, she thought while
moving Ona's hand to a more neutral part of her body, she was
content just being held.
     Ona shuddered, like a great weight had been released, before
relaxing, holding her roommate's small form in a pleasing
embrace.  There were no lustful thoughts, just a security unlike
any she'd ever experienced.
     Snug and warm, the two slept soundly; no nightmares, no
fears, no regrets.