FOX Squadron
                Episode 8  - Who ARE these guys?
                        By G.L. Sandborn




     Due to a quick meeting at RDF Headquarters, Colonel Stuart
got a late start for his office at 13 Squadron.  It had already
been an odd morning, General Emerson saw to that.  He insisted
that if Jeff was going to make off with all the supplies that had
mysteriously been assigned to his squadron, Jeff was going to
sign for everything.
     An hour and painful finger cramps later, he escaped Rolf's
office with a binder full of official forms and a strong desire
not to go through that again.  If Cindy and Gloria wanted to
continue their raids on RDF supplies, they would have to find
some way to hide it better.
     Rounding the curve leading to the squadron area, he was a
little surprised to see an odd-looking bus parked in front of the
squadron headquarters.  It wasn't like one of the base shuttle
busses with their gleaming white paint jobs.  This one was yellow
and blue with pictures of kittens and puppies on its side.
     "Lieutenant Wallace is behind this, I just know it," he
mumbled, turning his rover to pull into its assigned parking
place.
     Stepping out, he eyed the bus and noticed there was someone
still behind the wheel.  The elderly driver, reading a rather
thick black book, glanced up and waved.
     "Morning to you, brother," the man called.
     Jeff forced a confused smile and acknowledged the man's
friendly gesture.  Brother?  Maybe he was wrong about Cindy. 
This was more Aunt Margie's style.  Maybe he was getting more
Lakota help.  He hoped so.  They certainly needed the staff.
     He was still wondering what Aunt Margie was up to when he
walked into the bedlam that was his squadron headquarters. 
Instead of the usual half-empty main room, the place was full of
people.  Some he recognized as his but most were completely
unknown to him.
     "Excuse me," an unusually short girl said as she scurried
past, a stack of files clutched to her chest.  He stared at her
retreating form.  She was certainly in the right uniform for an
RDF trooper but instead of being knee length, her skirt hung
almost to her ankles.
     "Morning, sir," Lieutenant Robbins said cheerfully as she
and Anne passed him on their way to the door.  "Quite a crowd,
huh?"
     He was about to ask them what was going on but they slipped
through the door and were gone.  Turning back towards the chaos
that was his headquarters, he scanned for a familiar face.
     "Beep, Beep.  Coming through."  A boy, who couldn't be more
than twelve or thirteen, pushed a small cart piled with small
boxes past Jeff, never once looking up to see who he'd just
passed.
     That was it, Jeff thought.  He was going to find out what's
going on.  The approach of another young man gave him the chance.
     Grabbing him by his collar, Jeff glared down into the boy's
eyes.  "Who are you and what are you doing here?"
     The boy blinked.  "Are you an officer or something?"
     "Or something," Jeff replied, tightening his grip.  "I'm the
commanding officer here and, up to now, I knew everyone assigned
to this squadron.  I've never seen you before."
     The boy jerked like he was trying to come to attention and
raised his hand in an imitation of a salute, dropping the folders
he was carrying.  "I'm Private Timothy Blue, sir," he stammered.
     "What are you doing here, Private Timothy Blue?"
     "Office staff, sir."
     "Very interesting.  Who do you report to?"
     His salute forgotten, Private Blue pointed to Cindy's desk.
     "I'm guessing you mean Lieutenant Wallace."
     Private Blue's head bobbed furiously.
     Releasing the young man, Jeff looked for his Admin Officer. 
She was nowhere to be seen.  That is, until she emerged from one
of the spare offices.
     "The safety pins should hold your skirt for now," she said
to a young girl who accompanied her.  "If Duane tries to tug it
down again, you just tell me."
     "Wallace?" Jeff called.  "Could I have a moment of your
time?"
     "Yes, sir."
     Cindy worked her way through the mob, her face giving no
hint that she found any of what was going on around her to be
unusual.
     "Refresh my memory, Lieutenant Wallace.  Just when did I
authorize turning the squadron headquarters into a day care
center?"
     "Sir?"  Cindy said with a questioning tilt of her head.
     "Who are these kids and why are they here dressed in RDF
uniforms?"
     Cindy glanced around before returning to facing the Colonel. 
"Well, Captain Fox told me to get an office staff."
     "I doubt she meant to raid the local junior high.  Are any
of these kids sixteen?"
     "Officially?" Cindy asked.
     "That's what I thought.  Get rid of them," Jeff ordered,
turning on his heel and heading towards his office.
     "I can't do that, sir," Cindy protested as she scurried
after him.
     Jerking to a halt, he glowered at Cindy and demanded: "Why
not?"
     "I promised we'd enlist them."
     "You did WHAT?" Jeff gasped.  "You can't do that.  They're
not old enough."
     "But I promised," Cindy moaned.
     Jeff could see some of the kids had stopped work and were
listening.  "Let's continue this in my office."
     "Okay, but we'll have to do it in front of Captain Parino."
     Jeff quick-glanced at his closed office door and back to
Cindy.  "How long has she been there?"
     "We arrived together at 0700, sir."
     Jeff sighed.  "Fine.  We'll resume this later.  For now, I
don't want any of these kids to get too comfortable in those
uniforms."
     Without waiting for Cindy's response, Jeff quickly departed
for his office and his next act of crisis control.
     Opening his office door, he noticed right away Ona wasn't
sitting in front of his desk.  Instead, she was standing at the
side window, staring out at the airfield.  That wasn't a good
sign, he thought.
     "Good morning, Captain," he said closing the door.  Instead
of sitting behind his desk, he leaned against its front and
crossed his arms.  "Get any thinking done last night?"
     "Some," she said.  "I thought a lot about what you said. 
You're right, of course.  I can't run from myself."
     "I'm glad to hear you say that."
     Ona sighed and turned to face Jeff.  "Lieutenant Wallace
also helped."
     "Oh?"
     "Yes, she showed me that wherever I go or whatever I do, I
still have to live with that part of me that is Zentraedi."
     "That will take some work."
     "I know and I also know that it might happen again," she
said, her expression hardening.  "Promise me, sir.  If it *does*
happen again, you'll kill me before I can hurt any of the
others."
     "Captain, I'm not in the habit of --"
     "It's no dishonor for a Zentraedi to be killed by her
commander to protect the rest of his command."
     Jeff stared at Ona.  Could she be serious?  Could she really
mean for him to take her life?  The look on her face suggested
just that.  "Very well, Ona," he said slowly, using her first
name to make certain she understood how personal this would be
for him.  "I promise to stop you before you can harm the others."
     Ona started to thank him but was interrupted by a knock at
the door.
     "In," Jeff snapped.
     Captain Lynn poked her head inside.  "I just thought you'd
like to know that the training squadron's Veritechs are on their
way."
     "Damn, that's good news," Jeff said, slapping his hands on
the desk.
     "Yeah, now if you can just get me a maintenance crew."
     "I'm working on it."
     Gail's eyes went from Jeff to Ona and back again.  "Yeah, I
can see that."
     Jeff's annoyed expression caused Gail to chuckle.  She could
still poke him in just the right places and get away with it
because of their relationship.
     "In any case, I think you better come out here.  You have
another problem to deal with."
     Before Jeff could ask what problem, Gail was gone.  He
sighed and glanced at Ona who appeared as confused as he was
about the 'problem' to which Gail was referring.
     "Well, I guess I better see what this is all about," he
said, sighing and pushing himself to his feet.  Ona gave no
indication she heard.  Staring out the window again, like she was
lost in thought about what she'd just gotten him to agree to.
     He, too, wondered if he'd be able to do the deed when the
time came.  He hoped he'd never have to find out.
     Opening the door, he found himself faced with two lines of
young people, standing in various stages of 'attention', flanked
by a scowling Cindy, her arms crossed.
     "What's all this?" he asked, stepping out of the office.
     "If these people are RDF personnel, I will, of course,
follow orders and dismiss them," Cindy said with an edge to her
voice.  "If not, I leave it to you."
     Stunned by her bluntness, he frowned at Cindy before looking
over each of the young recruits.  They were an even spilt between
boys and girls, a total of twelve.  The oldest looked back with
dull, expressionless eyes, like kids who'd been rejected all
their short lives and this was just another of those rejections. 
The youngest appeared hurt, almost crying while they tried to
face yet another adult who didn't want them.
     Jeff drew a deep breath.  "Look, it's nothing personal...,"
he began, hesitating when the youngest girl started to quietly
cry.  Silently, he groaned to himself.  Why were these things
always so tough?  "Enlisting in the RDF means you're willing to
dedicate yourselves to following orders, even to the point where
you might be hurt.  It takes people of maturity to handle such a
decision.  That's why the minimum age of enlistment is sixteen." 
He paused when a second girl hid her face in her hands, her
slender shoulders shaking.  He had no experience talking to
children and felt distinctly uncomfortable doing it.
     "Sir?" one of the older boys interrupted.  "I'm almost
sixteen.  I've been living with Father Ryan for ten years.  My
father was Major Colin Newkirk.  He died on the SDF-2.  My mother
died in the Rain of Death.  I'm all that's left of my family." 
He paused to glance at his companions.  "We're all orphans of RDF
personnel.  We know what enlistment means."  He ended his
statement with a determined expression.
     To Jeff that didn't change a thing.  "But you're just
children," he insisted.  "I can't take you into a combat zone."
     "Don't let our ages fool you, sir.  We're ready to do
whatever is necessary for the RDF.  If not for ourselves, for the
memory of our parents."
     Jeff sighed.  "Don't you understand?  Our job is to give you
a chance to grow up in a peaceful world."
     "We know that.  My father used to say the same thing.  He
also said the reason he joined was to give others the chance to
live in peace and peace always has a price.  Sometimes that price
is a life.  He paid that so I could make my own decision.  I
choose to serve the RDF and maybe give kids who still have
parents a chance to grow up in a peaceful world I never had."
     What could Jeff say to that?  The boy had him cold.  He
looked to Cindy but all he got in return was a steely glare.  It
was clear she was as determined as the twelve recruits he was
trying to get rid of.  Some of his pilots had wandered in and
were lounging on desks at the far end of the room.  They were
watching the proceedings with interest.
     "We're going to be well behind the lines," Cindy noted. 
"That's the reason your wife is coming with us; the area has been
declared as 'safe'.  It's no different with these guys," she
said, motioning with her head to indicate her would-be office
staff.  "They will remain on the base, behind the security fence
and work in the office with me."
     "But they're not sixteen and regulations clearly state I
cannot enlist anyone younger," Jeff insisted, certain this was
his last firm argument. 
     "Must I remind you of Corporal Twotree?" Cindy asked flatly.
     He turned again to the kids.  The ones that were crying
before now stared back, their tear-stained faces locked in an
expression of firm resolve.  Behind them, sitting on desks, many
with their arms crossed and wearing firm expressions of their
own, he could see his pilots.  It was hard to tell which side
they were on.  Only the ever-skeptical Liz appeared unhappy with
the possibility of such a young office staff joining them in the
Ozarks.
     "What do you think, Madam Executive Officer?  Are you
prepared to become a surrogate mother?" he asked when he caught
sight of Katherine.
     "I always wanted a big family," she replied with a grin. 
"Seriously, they may be young but I think they'll perform in an
acceptable manner," she said.  
     Some of the pilots nodded their agreement.  The whole thing
was turning into a Lakota council fire meeting.  This wasn't the
way command decisions are supposed to be made in the RDF.  Jeff
suddenly felt alone in his position.
     "Just sign the papers, sir.  I'll take care of the rest,"
Cindy said, her expression now sporting a thin smile.
     Running a hand through his hair, he drew a deep breath. 
First, it was women pilots.  He was just coming to grips with
that aspect of his squadron.  Now, he was expected to take
children on as his administrative staff.
     Exhaling slowly, he shook his head.  Had the RDF come to
using women and children to protect their world?  If so, what
were they really protecting?  Maybe that was the whole point. 
They were no longer protecting anyone but themselves.
     "God help me for this but..."  He paused as he kids looked
at him in anticipation.  "Very well.  Lieutenant Wallace, you
make the arrangements for their field enlistments.  As of now,
they are all officially sixteen and God help the first one of you
who forgets that."
     "Very good, sir," Cindy said, shushing the kids who were
ready to celebrate.  "You won't regret this."
     "I better not," he warned with a frown.
     "I'll make the arrangements."
     "You can't chance putting them up at Grant Barracks."
     "That's not a problem, sir," Cindy said, reaching for a
clipboard.  "They will continue to stay at Father Ryan's place
until we deploy.  He can drive them over every morning and return
them in the evening."
     Nodding, Jeff glanced at his pilots.  Almost all of them
were grinning.  At least, he had their approval - not that it
really mattered.  However, he wasn't going to let them off scott
free.
     "And for the pilots who think this is such a good idea, I'm
tasking Lieutenant Mills with the responsibility of holding class
two hours each day until we deploy, to teach these kids RDF
military basics and regulations."  Those around Daisy launched
into a muted round of teasing, naming her the squadron's new
babysitter.  
     That is, until Jeff amended his order.  "Lieutenant Mills
will delegate this task to the other pilots as their work
schedule permits."  All their smiles disappeared at the sound of
his words.  Daisy, however, picked up the slack and grinned
knowingly.
     Cindy looked at her new office staff like an older sister
about to take control.  She now had a dozen young charges that,
despite her commander's delegation of their military training to
Daisy, were hers to mold into an effective unit.
     "Carry on," Jeff said, turning on his heel and quickly
returning to his office.
     Inside, he hesitated when he caught sight of Ona still
staring out the window.  She looked concerned despite the absence
of her obvious tension.
     "Still brooding?" he asked, working his way around his desk.
     "No, sir.  Just thinking."
     "About?"  He plopped into his office chair and leaned back. 
He didn't really have time for this.  His day was already
terribly behind schedule.  Having to emotionally hold the big
Zentraedi's hand while she engaged in a bout of self-pity wasn't
part of that schedule.
     "Nothing in particular, sir.  Just thinking."
     "Well do it somewhere else," he said, picking up a pen and
opening the top folder on his desk.  "I've got work to do."
     "Yes, sir."  Ona's voice sounded soft and still troubled.
     Peeking up from his paperwork, he watched her head for the
door.  Do all these girls have emotional problems?  He couldn't
remember any of his male pilots being so distracted.  They just
did their jobs and kept their personal problems to themselves. 
Qualified or not, he didn't like what that meant for his new
squadron.

     Outside in front of the hangar, Gail danced around her new
fighters, glancing in a cockpit here and caressing a wing there,
giggling like a kid with new toys.
     Daisy leaned against the open hangar door and shook her
head.  "That is so weird," she said.
     "Yeah," Nancy agreed.  "Weird."
     "If she hugs one of those birds, I'm outta here."
     Both groaned when Gail enthusiastically threw her arms
around a Veritech nose and planted a big kiss on its dull black
surface.
     "That girl needs help."
     "No, that girl needs a boyfriend."


     The sound of a Veritech passing low overhead, caused Jeff to
look up from his paperwork.  His trained ear could tell when a
Veritech was performing properly and when it was out of normal
flight parameters.  The aircraft in question didn't sound like it
was in distress.  It just didn't sound... right.
     Abandoning paperwork to his curiosity, he went to find out
what was going on.
     Back in the main room, he sought out Lieutenant Wallace.
     "Cindy, who's --?"
     "Captain Fox is giving a dual checkout to her sister," Cindy
answered with a satisfied grin.
     Another pass by the Veritech caused the windows to shudder.
     "Is that --?"
     "Could be."
     "I wonder why they're flying so low?"
     Cindy shrugged.  "Beats me.  I'm not a pilot."
     Acknowledging her point with a wave of his hand, he decided
to step outside and see for himself.
     By the time he reached the tarmac, there were a couple other
interested parties scanning the skies; Daisy and Nancy.  However,
there was no sign of the Veritech containing the Fox sisters.
     "What's going on?" he asked a placid-looking Daisy.
     "I think Samantha is trying to prove to her sister she can
do more than touch-and-go's."  Daisy held up a small portable
radio receiver.  "Wanna listen in?"
     "Might as well."
     It took only a moment for Daisy to get the right frequency. 
Katherine's voice soon boomed out of the tiny speaker.  "Will you
stop fooling around?  I'm trying to certify you for solo."
     "I'm ready already," came Samantha's irritated response.
     "I still need one more touch-and-go."
     "Oh, alright."
     The Veritech made another appearance over the end of
Yellowstone's longest runway - upside down.
     "Sammie, stop fooling around!"  Katherine, having been
tested by some of the worst pilots in the RDF, was obviously
unprepared for her own sister.
     Jeff, Daisy and Nancy tilted their heads as they watched the
fighter drop towards the concrete runway.  It certainly looked
like it was headed for its final landing.  Only a few feet above
the ground, the little fighter flipped right side up and gently
settled onto its landing gear.
     "Okay, let's take it back up and go around for a landing,"
Katherine said, relief in her voice obvious.
     Without an acknowledgment from Samantha, the Veritech went
to full power, leaped off the runway and did an half loop,
rolling out right side up and heading straight for the squadron
headquarters.
     "What are you doing?" Katherine yelled.
     The only response from her student was an almost insane
giggle.
     With a grimace, Jeff glanced at his two companions.  Daisy
had her arms folded, glaring at the oncoming fighter, almost
daring it to hit her.  Nancy just opened up a folding chair and
settled in for the show.
     "I wanna fly through a hangar!" Samantha crowed.
     With a deafening roar, the fighter flashed overhead, its
back blast blowing everyone's hair.  Only Jeff turned to follow
its flight as the Veritech headed for the open hangar doors.
     An instant before it entered, Katherine's voice screeched
from the tiny radio: "Sammie, our hangar doesn't have a back
door!"
     Jeff closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, waiting for the
crash he was certain to come while trying to think of how he was
going to explain *this* General Emerson.
     When he heard no explosion marking the end of the Fox
sisters, he chanced a peek.  The Veritech, now in Guardian mode,
backed its way out of the hangar.
     As he drew a deep breath, ending in a sigh of relief, the
little fighter shot straight up, changed back into Fighter mode,
shot off beyond the hangar and disappeared.  A moment later,
Captain Lynn emerged from the hangar, threw her wrench down and
shook her fist at the fading sound.  Her curses barely audible
over the noise of the departing fighter.
     "Don't you dare make me fly with her," Daisy growled. 
"She's out of control."
     "I'll grant you she's enthusiastic," Jeff said, reaching for
his comb.
     "No, sir.  She's nuts," Nancy corrected, pulling out a comic
book.
     The Veritech reappeared off to their right and crossed the
field doing a series of slow rolls.  All the time, they could
hear Katherine threatening Samantha with everything from
grounding to telling Mom if she didn't straighten up and fly
right.
     "Well, I'll have a talk with her," Jeff said, turning
towards the building.
     "I recommend using a two by four to get her attention." 
Daisy glanced down at Nancy's book.  "Is that a new one?"
     "Yeah, picked it up at the exchange yesterday."
     Daisy looked closer and frowned as she read the title. 
"Adventures of The RDF?"
     "Pretty corny, huh?"
     Nancy thumbed through a few pages, snickering at the images. 
"Wow, Major Lance Steel is quite a guy.  Beat a whole army by
himself, rescued the World Council President, saved the rain
forest, and did major surgery on a team member with only a pocket
knife and a survival sewing kit."
     "That stuff will rot your brain."  The Fox sisters' Veritech
cut a series of figure eights over the runway.
     "Yeah," Nancy said almost wistfully.  "Look at all those
muscles."
     Daisy rolled up the right sleeve of her flight suit and
flexed her bicep.  "Better than this?"
     Glancing between her comic book and Daisy's bulging bicep,
Nancy shrugged.  "Big deal."
     "What do you mean 'big deal'?"  The Veritech switched to
Guardian mode and began a Kristi Yamaguchi imitation, complete
with spins and a triple axel.
     "No offense but even *I* can take you arm wrestling."  Nancy
went back to her comic.
     Daisy slapped Nancy's shoulder, almost knocking the smaller
girl off her folding chair.  "Day room.  Now," she growled,
jerking a thumb towards the nearby little building.
     Nancy sighed and carefully put away her comic book, folded
up her chair and followed her friend towards the chosen arena. 
They'd done this many times over the years.  Surprisingly, the
overall score was fairly even.  Of course, that was partially due
to Nancy's ingenious ways of cheating.
     The squadron's Day Room was like everything else associated
with the unit; eclectic and unusual.  The girls cleaned, rebuilt
and furnished the small building to suit their own tastes.  A
worn pool table, left over from the previous occupants, took up
one end of the room while a couple small tables occupied the
other.  Around the edge were a few worn couches, scratched end
tables and a soft drink vending machine that Anne had rigged to
dispense free drinks.  On the back wall hung a dart board that
looked like someone had used it for knife throwing practice.  A
small bathroom and storage closet rounded out the building's
amenities.
     Daisy slammed open the door when she entered.  Those already
in the Day Room acted as if this were the norm and continued
their activities unconcerned.
     Liz chalked her pool cue and eyed Daisy suspiciously as the
large Lakota stomped over to one of the tables.  Anne, her nose
buried in a pre-war superhero comic book, looked up only to
verify that it was just Daisy before going back to reading.  Ona,
still brooding, stared out the windows that faced the airfield. 
She didn't even react when a Veritech, now in Battloid mode,
moon-walked across the tarmac.
     "This will do," Daisy said, sweeping a couple of empty cans
on the floor with her arm and pulling out one of the chairs.
     Nancy calmly walked over and pulled out a chair opposite
Daisy and plopped down, rolling up the sleeve of her flight suit. 
"No cheating this time," she warned.
     "I don't have to cheat, ya dirt-monkey," Daisy growled with
an evil grin.  She knew how Nancy hated the common term for an
infantry grunt, a gratuitous slap at Nancy's previous lowly
position.
     "You're goin' down," Nancy promised, slamming her elbow on
the table and glaring at her friend.
     "Whatever."
     Neither noticed Ona had moved over to watch until they
clasped hands in preparation to start.
     "You wanna piece of this?" Daisy asked the big alien.  "I'll
take you next."
     Ona said nothing but continued to watch without expression.
     Turning back to her competition, Daisy scowled.  "On three. 
One-two-THREE."
     With matching grunts, the two combatants put all their
effort into leveraging their opponent's arm to the table.  
     Seconds dragged on into minutes as the two struggled to
topple the other.  Muscles bulged and faces turned red at the
exertion; neither willing to back down. 
     It soon became obvious this was going to be Daisy's day. 
The smaller girl's arm slowly began a trembling descent to the
table, ending with a final 'thump' as Daisy slammed her friend's
hand to the hard wooden surface.
     "Hah!," Daisy exclaimed, her hands held high in triumph.  "I
win again."
     Nancy clutched her abused arm to her chest and shook her
head.  "You only won because you stepped on my foot."
     "What's the matter?  Don't like losing?" Daisy said in a
taunting voice.
     "I don't like cheating."
     "All's fair in love and arm wrestling."  Daisy shook out her
arm and flexed her fingers.  She had to admit, Nancy was the best
she'd encountered in the squadron; maybe the best she'd ever
encountered anywhere.  "Besides, you had your leg hooked around
the table support.  I could feel it."
     "Like you said, all's fair."
     Casting a sly look Ona's direction, Daisy asked: "You ever
play this before?"
     Ona glanced at the others gathering around.  "We have a
similar test of strength," she said.
     "Yeah?  Then you shouldn't feel too bad when you lose."
     "Why should I feel bad?  Your version offers no penalty for
losing."
     "You have to endure my gloating.  That's penalty enough."
     Ona shrugged.  "If you say so.  We perform Tat'Genoh for
higher stakes."
     Nancy vacated her seat, still flexing her hand.  "What's
your stakes?"
     "We use Kutas.  They're a little like your earth rats only
their rear claws are venomous."  Ona sat down in Nancy's seat and
leaned on the table.  "We irritate one until it's furious and
extends its claws, then hold it down on the table on its back. 
You have to hold it just right or it'll chew through your hand." 
She held up her left hand.  Inch long scars flanked a part of her
shapely hand where a chunk was missing and had healed.  "If you
avoid getting bit, you still have to win the contest.  The loser
gets her hand stuck by the Kuta's claws.  Very painful but not
lethal.  Your hand swells and turns blue for a couple of days. 
The worst is: everyone knows you lost a Tat'Genoh."
     "We could postpone this until we find a couple of them...
critters," Daisy said, leaning forward with narrowed eyes.
     Ona shook her head.  "I wouldn't subject you to that kind of
pain."
     "Sounds pretty confident," Nancy warned, glancing over at
Liz who was drawn to the contest, pool cue still in hand.  Anne
too, had rolled up her comic book and was hovering around the
table, her jaw working another monster wad of gum.
     Daisy made her decision and slammed her elbow on the table. 
"Any time you're ready."
     "Very well," Ona replied, matching Daisy's position and
grasping the bigger girl's hand.  She placed her own left hand
flat on the table, like she was holding down a rat-sized
creature.
     Daisy licked her lips and grinned.  "On three. 
Onetwothree."
     Thinking she'd get a jump on the Zentraedi, she started
pushing somewhere between 'two' and 'three'.  It didn't appear to
help.  Despite hooking her leg around the table's center support
again and gripping the table's opposite edge, she wasn't making
any headway.  Ona held her hand rock-steady and continued to
stare at her opponent.
     For several seconds, Daisy struggled to budge Ona's hand
more than an inch or so.  Her grunts matched her increasingly red
face as she strained to finish the contest.  Ona just remained
calm, holding her hand as solidly as possible.
     "Come on, Ona," Nancy said with a big grin.  "Take her
down."
     "Very well."
     With one quick move, Daisy's hand was driven to the table's
surface just short of Ona's other hand, landing with an audible
'thunk'.  Anne gasped and Liz hummed her approval.  The ease with
which Ona won stunned everyone in the room; especially Daisy.
     "Geez," she gasped, retrieving her abused hand once Ona
released it.  "You're not human."
     "No, I'm not.  I'm Zentraedi," Ona replied, standing up.  "I
hope you're not injured."
     Rubbing her arm, Daisy snorted.  "Naw, only my pride got a
little bruised."
     "Good."  Ona moved back to the windows.  "I don't want to
hurt any of you."
     Nancy glanced between her friend and the big Zentraedi. 
"It's almost lunch time.  Why don't we go celebrate the new
squadron champion?"
     "I could go for some lunch myself," Liz said, sliding her
cue onto the pool table.  Looking over at the still passive Anne,
she asked: "How about you, short-stuff?"  
     With a shrug, Anne stuffed her rolled-up comic book into a
cargo pocket on the leg of her flight suit.  "'Kay," she replied.
     "Yeah, a pizza would taste pretty good right now."  Daisy
slid back her chair and looked at Ona.  "You're stronger than you
look."
     Ona continued to stare out the window.  The VF-1D with the
Fox sisters was just taxing in.  "It's part of being Zentraedi. 
Something I have to learn to live with."
     "You look like someone who needs a friend right now," Nancy
said, placing an arm around Ona's shoulders.  She had to reach up
to do it.
     A thin smile crossed Ona's face.  "You still want my
company?"
     "You bet.  You're one of us, no matter what," Nancy said,
patting Ona's shoulder.
     "No matter what," Ona repeated slowly, still staring out the
window.  Turning her head to look into Nancy's eyes, she smiled. 
"Yes, you're worth dying for."
     Undaunted by Ona's strange declaration, Daisy slowly stood
up and walked over to her.  "I'm certainly glad to hear that,"
she said, extending a hand.  "I think you're worth dying for as
well."
     The two shook hands, their eyes locked.  Daisy grinned like
she'd just discovered a new friend.  A smile slowly grew on Ona's
face as well.  Maybe these are the kind of earth people she
needed to know all along.  They certainly were different than
others she encountered.  In many ways, they were like Zentraedi;
aggressive, combative, and tough.  But they were also friendly,
caring, and willing to accept her as she was.  For the first time
among humans, she felt like she belonged, was needed, maybe even
respected.
     Slowly, she brought her other hand to cover the one she was
holding.  Clasping her hands together, Daisy's trapped between
them, she brought them up to eye level and stared intently into
Daisy's eyes.
     Saying something briskly in Zentraedi, she touched Daisy's
fingers to her own forehead before pressing them to her chest. 
Her eyes lingered only briefly on the big Lakota's impressive
bust before looking again into Daisy's eyes.
     "What was that all about?" Nancy asked.
     "Yeah, that sounded pretty serious," Daisy agreed, a
concerned expression replacing her previous grin.
     "You and I are as clone-sisters.  My life is yours and yours
is mine.  Whatever the odds, I will always come to your aid and
stand by your side.  If you die at the hands of an enemy, I vow
vengeance until my last breath."
     "Wow, talk about heavy a obligation," Liz muttered.  Anne,
standing next to her, just nodded in awe.  Neither had ever heard
such a vow before.
     "Uh, thanks," Daisy said, a little unnerved by the vow. 
"I'll be there for you as well."
     Ona smiled and released Daisy's hand.  Her whole demeanor
seemed to change.  Where she was solemn and brooding before, she
was now open and relaxed; as if she'd made some sort of
resolution that cleared away nagging doubts and inner fears.  She
was among equals now; people Zentraedi-like as any she'd met on
Earth.  She'd found a home.
     "So, we still on for lunch?" Nancy asked, glancing between
her friend and Ona.  
     "I'll buy yours," Daisy said to Ona.
     "Accepted."
     The five of them trooped to the door only to come face-to-
face with Karen Crowkiller coming up the steps.  Her hand still
bandaged, she glared at Ona with an expression of disgust.  Daisy
carefully moved between them and ushered the Zentraedi outside. 
Liz began to follow but hesitated on the steps.  Turning to the
still glaring Karen, she shook her head.
     "I know why you feel the way you do," she said.
     Karen refused to reply, continuing to regard Ona with a most
lethal look.
     Placing a hand gently on Karen's shoulder, Liz leaned closer
and said softly: "Karen, we've been friends a long time.  We've
stood by each other even when everyone else abandoned us.  I'd
never do anything to hurt you but you have to get over this
hatred of Captain Parino.  She's not like The Furies in South
America.  She's one of us."
     "She's still Zentraedi," Karen said in a low voice.  "I
can't forgive her people for what they did."
     "That's not fair, Karen.  Look, we're Lakota.  Would you
expect someone to hate all of us because of what another Lakota
did to them?  Deep down, you know that's not right."
     When her friend continued to silently glare at the
Zentraedi, Liz sighed and patted her shoulder.  
     "Get to know her before you hate.  She's more than she
appears."  Without another word, Liz slipped out the door and
joined the others as they headed of Daisy's car.  She knew Karen
would make the right decision about Ona.  It was just going to
take some time.

*****

     Jeff was checking the duty roster at Cindy's desk when
Katherine entered.  Her wild hair and sweat-stained flight suit
made her look like she'd been through a blender.
     "You okay?" he asked.
     Like she was still in a daze, Katherine only hesitated on
her way to her office.  "Oh... I'm fine," she replied in a far-away voice.
     "You sure?"
     Katherine nodded and continued towards her office,
muttering: "Ten years.  I've been flying Veritechs for ten years
and I've never seen one do that."
     Jeff frowned down at his Admin Officer.  "What's she talking
about?"
     Before Cindy could answer, the front door slammed open and a
very agitated Captain Gail Lynn stomped in.  "Where is she?" Gail
demanded.
     "Who?"
     "That flying circus reject who just landed."
     "Are you referring to Captain Fox?" Jeff asked, leaning on
Cindy's desk.
     "Yeah, her and that loco-weed sister of hers."  Gail glanced
around the room like a missile in search of a target.  The young
office staff backed away.  One young lady made a run for the
bathroom, slamming the door and locking it.
     "Hi, everyone.  Boy, was that fun," Samantha called
cheerfully from the open doorway.
     Spinning around, Gail acquired her target.  "YOU!" she
yelled.
     "Yeah, glad to see you too," Samantha said defensively with
a startled expression.
     "Look, young lady, *I'm* the one who has to put those birds
back together when you're through playing with 'em," Gail
growled.  "Do you have any idea what I have to do to one of those
birds after you lunatics get done with it?"
     "What are you talking about?" Jeff interrupted.
     "I'm talking about the stunts she pulled with the Veritech
she and her sister were flying."
     "A Veritech should be able to withstand those kinds of
stresses without damage," Jeff noted, hoping to defuse the
situation. 
     From the look of Gail's expression, it wasn't working. 
"That's not the point.  Because of what she did, I now have to
spend all night - by myself - inspecting the entire airframe. 
Not to mention, the hydraulics, the electronics, the engines,
the--"
     Jeff stopped her with a raised hand.  "I get the point."  He
turned to Cindy.  "Issue a squadron directive.  There will be no
unauthorized 'stunting' in squadron Veritechs until further
notice."
     Cindy nodded and quickly typed up the order, adding the
appropriate military embellishments to make it official.
     "There.  Happy?"
     "For now.  There's still the matter of my maintenance crew,"
Gail demanded.
     "I'm working on it," Jeff replied, a little more defensively
than he intended.
     Gail glanced around the quiet office before glaring at her
brother-in-law.  "Yeah, I can see that."
     Jeff sighed.  "I have more than just your maintenance crew
to deal with," he said tiredly.
     Again, Gail began to protest but hesitated.  She looked like
someone on the verge of desperation.  Closing her eyes, her body
slumping, she nodded.  "I'm sorry, Jeffrey.  It's just that I
can't do this alone.  I've got sixteen Veritechs in the hangar,
in various states of repair, inspection, and overhaul.  I can't
be sixteen places at once."
     Jeff looked at her tired face and saw what the lack of sleep
and overwork was doing to her.  She was right, of course.  She
couldn't do it alone, even with the help of the pilots.  She
needed real help.  Each Veritech required at least five specially
trained maintenance people to properly care for its complicated
systems.  Under current conditions, to allow more than one
fighter out of the hangar at a time was taking a chance on the
lives of his pilots.  He also had RDF Command to consider.  There
was no way they were going to activate the squadron without a
trained ground crew.  It was time for a little honesty.
     "Gail, I'm sorry," he said.  "I've run out of places to
look.  The Personnel Office insists no one is available.  All my
contacts have come up dry.  I don't know what else I can do."
     Drawing a deep breath, Gail rubbed her face with her hands. 
"Maybe this whole thing with the squadron was a mistake," she
said through her hands.  "If I had even three per Veritech, I
could make it work by spreading the specialties over several
fighters.  But I don't even have three."
     Jeff glanced around at the office staff.  A few looked
dismayed.  They realized what the lack of a ground crew meant.
     His eyes caught Cindy's.  From her vantage point, in the
very heart of squadron operations, she knew how hard everyone had
worked on this problem.  She understood the Colonel's position
but still blamed herself.  To the sound of a phone ringing, she
looked away.
     "We've still got almost two weeks, Gail," he said, unable to
look her in the eyes.  "I can't... We can't give up now.  We just
need to work together on this."
     "Sir?" came a small voice from the back of the room.  "It's
for you."
     Jeff glanced at the young girl holding the phone out like
she expected him to walk over and take a bite out of it.  He had
to admire her.  Despite everything that was going on, she was
still able to do her job.
     "I'll take it in my office," he said.  Casting one last look
at the shaken Gail, he turned to find out what new disaster
awaited him on the phone.

     Everyone watched Colonel Stuart silently drift back to his
office and close the door.  Their mood was reflected by the look
on his face.
     "Okay, everybody.  Lets get back to work," Cindy said softly
while staring at the Colonel's closed door.
     "Come on,"Samantha said, tugging on Gail's dirty coverall
sleeve.  "I'll help you with the inspection."
     Gail just nodded.  She needed a fresh pair of eyes for this. 
Hers were just too tired.  Samantha's help wasn't a solution,
just a temporary fix to a festering problem that was sure to doom
the squadron.  She needed bodies; trained, skilled bodies.  The
RDF was so short of personnel they could barely keep their
current active squadrons staffed.  With the ASC snatching up all
the recruits, there weren't enough left to even replace losses,
much less staff a new squadron.  It looked like they'd finally
lost.  Victims of the numbers game.

     Jeff slid around his desk and dropped into his chair, eyeing
the phone with suspicion.  He hadn't gotten a lot of good news as
of late from the phone and didn't expect much better this time.
     With a sigh, he picked it up.  "Stuart here."
     "Jeffrey?  It's Rolf," came a tired-sounding voice from the
other end.
     "How was Monument City?"  Jeff tried sounding his usual
cavalier manner but he wasn't fooling anyone, including himself. 
It was a sure bet Rolf wasn't fooled.
     It wasn't much of a surprise that Rolf avoided idle
pleasantries and got right to the point.  He usually did when it
involved really bad news.  "I'm sorry to have to tell you this
but things are moving faster than we thought.  I have to send
those two squadrons to Japan immediately.  That means you need to
be ready to move in two days."
     "What?" Jeff gasped, his body jerking to an upright posture. 
"You can't be serious.  I'm supposed to have two more weeks.  I
need those weeks to get these guys fully trained."
     "It can't be helped, Jeff.  I need those squadrons
elsewhere.  You'll just have to finish your training once you're
relocated."
     Jeff groaned and silently cursed the bad luck.  "I'm not
fully staffed yet.  I need a ground crew."
     "I'm sorry.  You'll just have to make do."
     "Perhaps you didn't understand me, sir.  I have sixteen
Veritechs and ONE maintenance crewman; Captain Lynn."
     "I'll try to scrounge up some people from other squadrons
but until then, you'll just have to double up everyone.  Make
your pilots help.  It'll do them good to know their fighters
inside and out."
     "You know that's not possible."
     "I know nothing of the sort.  We did it back in the First
Robotech War."
     "You did it on an emergency basis, in the field, until the
maintenance team could catch up with the squadron.  We can't do
that permanently."
     "I wish I could offer more, Jeff.  I've set the activation
ceremony for tomorrow morning.  Megan has even arranged for a
band and a color guard."
     "Great," Jeff said sarcastically.  "Can any of them fix a
Veritech?"
     Rolf chuckled.  "That's what I like to hear.  You still have
your sense of humor."
     Jeff bolted to his feet and strangled the handset.  "I'll
give you a 'sense of humor', you miserable excuse for a...
hello?"  The phone line was dead.  Slamming down the handset, he
kicked his desk.
     Seething at the unfairness of it all, he allowed his anger
to fester and boil.  Since this project got started, he felt like
he was alone.  He got nothing from the RDF in the way of support. 
Everything they currently had was obtained through back channels
or deception.  Cindy and Gloria could get their hands on
everything they needed except time - the one commodity they
couldn't requisition if they tried.
     In an uncharacteristic fit of anger, he kicked his trash can
hard enough to bounce it off the wall.  It didn't change anything
but it made him feel better.
     Taking a deep breath, he linked his fingers together on top
of his head and looked around his Spartan office.  "Now what do I
do?" he asked no one in particular.  "I can't take those girls
into combat.  They're not ready.  My Veritechs can't fly forever
without maintenance.  I don't even have a command & control
staff."  He sighed and walked over to the window.  "Now I don't
have enough time to finish what I've started and those poor girls
are probably going to pay for it with their lives."
     Regaining control, he chastised himself.  Orders are orders. 
They have to be followed.  They had less than twenty-four hours
to prepare for Rolf's little 'celebration'.
     Opening the door to his office, the first thing that struck
him was the outer office was almost empty.  Only a lone
youngster, one of Cindy's office staff, remained.
     "Where is everyone?" he demanded from his doorway.
     "Lunch, sir," she replied with a touch of fear in her voice. 
Her expression left no doubt of her fear being around him.
     He started to ask her to get them back but decided it wasn't
the best approach for the kind of news he had.  They were going
to be shocked bad enough as it was.  Better to do it on a full
stomach.
     "I'm going to lunch as well," he finally said.  "I want
everyone here at 1300 for an important meeting."  Hesitating,
unsure if the girl fully understood him he repeated himself:
"Everybody, Private."
     He barely heard her acknowledgment as he headed for his
vehicle.  Two days.  That was all he had left; a lousy two days. 
Rotten way to end a career.

     The Officers' Club was not as crowded as he expected. 
Checking out the buffet, he discovered why.
     "I'm not even going to ask what that is," he said to the
young man behind the low, table-height counter.
     They both looked down at the supposed 'meat' product
swimming in a greasy pool of its own juices.  Jeff couldn't help
but grimace.
     "It's a pork product from back east," the young man said
scratching his greasy black hair.  "The box said it was 'spam' or
something."
     "You have anything more... identifiable?"
     "We got chicken."
     "Does it look like chicken?"
     "Pretty much."
     "Does it taste like chicken?"
     "Sir, everything tastes like chicken."
     "What else you got?"
     "Soyburgers."
     Jeff rolled his eyes.  "I'll take one."
     "You want fries with that?"
     "You dropped out of high school for this, didn't you?"
     "Since the Zentraedi blew it up, seemed like the right thing
to do at the time, sir," the young man answered with a shrug
while grabbing a handful of fries.  "You want a pickle too?"
     "Why not?"
     "Mustard?"
     "Please."
     "Ketchup?"
     Jeff leaned over the counter.  "I've only got an hour for
lunch.  Think we'll be through here by then?"
     "Depends on how fast you eat, sir," the young man said,
holding out a soyburger on a bun.
     "Gimmie that," Jeff snarled, snatching the burger and
plopping it on his tray.
     "Come back tomorrow, sir," the young man called as Jeff slid
over to the drinks.  "We're having tuna surprise."
     Jeff couldn't resist.  "What's the surprise?"
     "Ain't no tuna in it."
     He stared at the young man as he filled his glass with
water.  "What's in it?"
     The young man pointed to the mystery meat.  "Probably this
stuff here."
     "Keep up the good work.  You're a dieter's delight," Jeff
called as he turned to find a table.

     Still pondering how the RDF was reduced to taking people
like that food service worker, Jeff didn't notice the approach of
a someone familiar.
     Hefting his soyburger to take a bite, he was interrupted by
a thin stack of papers held together with a paper clip landing on
the table in front of him.
     He paused in mid-bite, his eyes roaming from the papers to
the person who threw them.  His shoulders sagged.
     "Howdy, Colonel," Major 'Mad Dog' Davis said with a
disarming grin.  "Havin' lunch?"
     Slowly lowing his sandwich, he eyed his old squadron mate. 
"No, I was about to torture this sandwich to find out where it
hid the beef," he replied.
     "Heh, that's a good one," Mad Dog said, pulling out a chair,
spinning it around and plopping down on its padded seat. 
Crossing his arms across the chair's back, he leaned forward and
examined Jeff's lunch.  "Mind if I join you?"
     "Would it do any good to say 'No'?"
     Mad Dog just chuckled and shook his head.  "Always the
kidder," he said.  "That's why I like you."
     "I'm touched," Jeff said with a plastic smile.  "So, what's
with the papers?"
     "Them's my walking papers.  Got fired today."
     "Fired?"
     "Yeah, as in: 'go away, we don't want you anymore'," Mad Dog
replied, eyeing Jeff's lunch.  "You gonna eat that pickle?"
     "Yes," Jeff replied in a flat voice.
     Mad Dog just shrugged.  "Anyway, I'm now unemployed - at
least until someone offers me a better deal."
     "What happened to the simulation center?"
     "Seems somebody up in Monument City got this hot idea to
save a little money.  They're consolidating the training to just
a few bases and Yellowstone ain't one of them."
     "Consolidating?"
     "Yeah, it's the ASC's idea.  Instead of having simulation
centers all over the place, they're going to build three
permanent centers in various locations to serve everyone in that
part of the world."
     "I smell Leonard behind this," Jeff growled.
     "Naw, that's me.  I forgot to put deodorant on this morning. 
But you're correct about one thing; it's probably Leonard's
idea."
     Sure, why not?  They've taken away just about everything
else the RDF needs.  Why not the simulation training as well? 
After all, the RDF is little more than a small town police force
compared to the ultra-modern ASC.  Why would the RDF even *need*
to run training simulations.
     "So, what happens to you and Dutch?" Jeff asked, taking a
bite out of his burger.
     Mad Dog shrugged.  "Dutch was already in retirement.  I
guess he'll just go back to doing what he was doing before;
sitting on some porch and rocking away the rest of his life."
     "You're breaking my heart," Jeff said.  He knew Dutch had
more credits in his account than a whole squadron.  He had always
been the frugal one; never going out or spending his credits when
he could save them for a rainy day.  "That old coot could buy
that simulation center of yours."
     "Probably," Mad Dog said looking towards the front doors. 
"Why don't you ask him yourself?"
     Jeff turned in time to see Lieutenant Colonel Dutch DeWitt
enter.  Wearing his makeshift uniform, an early version of an RDF
tunic over a pair of blue jeans and worn cowboy boots, he stood
just inside the club, looking for a familiar face.
     Mad Dog was more than happy to oblige.  "Yo, Dutch!  Over
here!" he yelled.  The whole place turned to see what kind of
insane person was disturbing the decorum of the Officers' Club
Dining Facility by shouting like some low-life.  Jeff hunched
over his food and grimaced.
     "'Bout time I found you," Dutch groused as he approached.  
Pausing at the table next to Jeff's, he cast a raised eyebrow at
what the people were having for lunch.  "That stuff any good?"
     The woman who's plate he was examining replied with a
shocked expression: "Well, I never."
     Dutch just grunted.  "If it ain't no good, all you had to do
was say so," he grumbled, pulling out a chair at Jeff's table.
     Holding his head in a hand, Jeff sighed.  "Why are you guys
doing this to me?"
     "Simple.  Since we're out of a job, we thought you might
help us," Mad Dog said, reaching for one of Jeff's french fries.
     "Help you?  How?"
     "You need people, sonny.  We're people," Dutch said with a
wide grin.
     Looking between them, Jeff fought the natural urge to laugh
out loud.  They couldn't be serious.  They were both so far 'over
the hill' it would take a squad just to find them.  In DeWitt's
case, WAY over the hill.  He couldn't take them into a combat
unit no matter how desperate he was.  "Guys, I don't know how to
say this--"
     "Now, I know what you're going to say," Mad Dog said,
interrupting Jeff.  "You're worried we might make things
difficult for your command position."
     "Huh?"
     "Welllll, you know," Mad Dog said in a slow drawl.  "The two
of us being older than you and all.  But don't worry, we won't
second guess you or nuthin'."
     "That's not--"
     "I know, I know, you're worried that the 'kids' might look
up to us, seein' we're more experienced," Dutch broke in.  "But
we'll make sure they know you're in charge."
     "That's very reassuring."
     "So, what you got for a pair of old hands like us?" Mad Dog
asked, his grin showing pearly white teeth through his dark
beard.
     Jeff looked between them again before sighing.  "Look, I'm
not even certain the RDF will approve of this.  Dutch, you're
supposed to be retired and you, Mad Doggie, are still classified
as medically restricted," he said, hoping he wasn't laying it on
too hard.
     The two stared at him for a long moment.  "I see," Dutch
began with a stony face.  His eyes narrowed.  "You don't want an
old zoomie who was flying fighters when you were still in
diapers."
     "No, that's not it," Jeff said defensively.  "I don't have a
problem with it but the RDF is not going to assign either one of
you to an operational squadron for very good reasons."
     Dutch and Mad Dog exchanged amused looks.  "If that's all
you're worried about, you better read them papers," Mad Dog said,
pointing to the little collection of papers he'd thrown on the
table earlier.
     Frowning, Jeff picked them up.  Thumbing through the pages,
he cast curious looks at both men.  There had to be two dozen
pages there.  He didn't have time for this.
     "Ya just need the last page, sonny," Dutch said with a grin
that made his bushy mustache look like a fuzzy bird trying to
take flight.
     Turning to the last page, Jeff read carefully.  Everything
appeared to be fairly standard until he got to the last
paragraph.  Mad Dog was to remain at Yellowstone unless a
squadron specifically requested his services.  Dutch, already in
retirement, wasn't even mentioned.
     "I don't get it," Jeff admitted.
     "Oh, that's easy," Mad Dog said.  "While I was waiting for
the final axe to fall on the sim center, I did a little checking
on you and your squadron.  You're going to a base that has a
small security detail and a single Destroid troop.  There's no
air base operations group assigned and from what I've been able
to determine, there ain't gonna be one.  So, you'll need the
usual ground-huggers to run the place."
     Jeff blinked and considered where Mad Dog was going.  If
what he said was true, and he knew well how thorough Doggie could
be, Ozark Base was going to be mighty quiet.  The base commander,
whoever the poor bastard was, had a bigger problem that he did. 
     "I hate to break it to you but you're talking to the wrong
guy.  I'm just a squadron commander.  I don't do base
operations."
     Both men laughed as they exchanged knowing looks.  Jeff got
the same feeling he usually got when a fighter latched onto his
tail in a fight.  It made the hair on the back of his neck stand
on end.
     "Sonny, you've been talking to the wrong people," Dutch said
with another chuckle.  "From what I've heard, you're gonna get
stuck with both jobs."
     "WHAT?"  Jeff's loud exclamation caused everyone to look his
way with disapproving stares.
     "Aw, you'll do fine."  Mad Dog reached over to pat Jeff's
arm before detouring to his fries again.  "I have confidence in
you."
     "I'm having enough trouble putting together a Veritech
squadron.  I don't have time to recruit a base operations
squadron as well."
     "And that's were we come in," Dutch said, snatching another
french fry, pausing just long enough to scoop up a glop of
ketchup before popping it in his mouth.  "Doggie and I have been
thinking about your problem."
     "One of the things I had to do before running the sim center
was get myself qualified in flight operations.  That means, I'll
serve as your Operations Officer and Deputy Base Commander," Mad
Dog said, reaching for another french fry.  "Now, Dutchie here,
will be busy for the first month or so polishing up your girls. 
After that, since he probably knows more about airborne ordnance
than any current Ordnance Officer in the RDF, he can switch over
to that."
     "Let me get this straight," Jeff said leaning forward again. 
What they were suggesting represented a genuine solution to both
their problems.  As ridiculous as it sounded, they might just be
on to something.  "You would take over the tower and ops planning
while Dutch handles the things that go 'boom'."
     Both men nodded.
     He had to admit, they had a good idea.  He needed good men
in both positions and these two were the best available - maybe
even the best anywhere.
     "Okay, you see Lt Wallace and she'll do all the paperwork,"
Jeff said, retrieving his half-eaten burger.  The french fries
were already gone.
     "You mean that cute little blonde you got stashed in your
wreck of a headquarters?" Mad Dog asked.  "Too late, we've
already been there and done that.  We transferred in an hour
ago."
     Jeff choked on his burger when he heard that.  "You WHAT?"
he got out between chokes.  "Why did you put me through all the
games?"
     "Hey, you gotta have a little fun when you get my age,"
Dutch said, reaching over and slapping Jeff's back.  Mad Dog
joined him and between them, they almost pounded out all of
Jeff's lunch, both kidneys, and a lung.
     Waving a hand to indicate he was okay, Jeff took a quick
drink to wash down whatever parts of his lunch he could. 
"There's only one little problem to all this," he said.  "I still
don't have a ground crew.  Without that, we're not going
anywhere."
     Dutch laughed.  "Is that all you're worried about?  Shoot,
son, you just leave that to old Dutch.  I'll have you a crew by
tomorrow morning... AND we'll find you the rest of the people
you'll need to run the base."
     That almost caused Jeff to start choking again.  What did he
mean by tomorrow morning?  His people and the rest of the RDF had
been trying for weeks and didn't even get a nibble.  When he
finally voiced his astonishment, Dutch and Mad Dog both laughed.
     "Son, you've been looking in all the wrong places," Dutch
said.  "We know where to find what you need.  Leave it to us."
     Jeff's eyes narrowed.  "Guys, I don't know about this."
     "Don't worry.  We've got it covered."  Both men stood up,
their chairs making loud noises as they slid back.  "See ya in
the morning, Colonel."
     Both tossed lazy salutes, weaving their way to the door. 
Outside of Gloria, he couldn't imagine two people with less
military bearing than those two.  Just what he didn't need.
     "You better be in proper uniform," he called to the
retreating forms.  Dutch just waved a dismissive hand his
direction as he stepped between Mad Dog and the Officers' Club
manager who were arguing over their presence, their conduct, and
especially their attitude.
     With no small amusement, Jeff watched as his two new
squadron members departed, loudly protesting all the way at the
club manager's treatment of them.  It was certainly going to be
an interesting tour with them in the squadron.  Of course, if
they didn't come through with the promised ground crew, this
could prove to be the shortest tour in history.

     "Are you sure he said it was important?" Daisy asked Cindy
with a firm scowl.  This one o'clock meeting was cutting into her
usual daily activities, including her regular afternoon workout
at the gym.
     "That's what Maggie said," Cindy replied with a serious
expression.  Turning to the young lady in question, she verified
her answer.  "Isn't that right?"
     The young lady nodded, her eyes tentatively sweeping the
small crowd of pilots surrounding her.  She acted like the wrong
answer at any moment might lead to their attack, and she
certainly didn't want that.
     "You better be right," Nancy warned.  "And it better be a
short meeting.  I'm due at the range by two."
     "I'm certain Maggie got the message right," Cindy insisted. 
"We'll just have to wait to see how important it is."
     Daisy checked her watch.  "It's almost one now.  Where is
he?"
     As if to answer her question, Colonel Jeff Lawrence entered
the headquarters and stopped just inside the door, scanning the
crowd.  One by one, as they noticed him, their voices faded away
until the room slid into a deathly silence.
     "Captain Fox, is everyone here?" he asked in a manner that
sounded all business.
     "All present, sir," she replied in her best official voice.
     "Fine, I don't want to have to repeat this, so listen up." 
All eyes were on him, he had their complete attention.  "Due to
developing situations around the world, our timetable has
changed.  Tomorrow morning we will become an active RDF squadron
and in two days we will relocate to our new base in the Ozarks. 
You are to keep this information to yourselves.
     "This afternoon will be spent preparing for the ceremony. 
You will report tomorrow morning at the usual time, in your Class
A uniform.  We will do a quick run-through at 0800 and the
activation ceremony itself will take place at 0900.  Any
questions?"
     Knowing they were expecting almost two more weeks at
Yellowstone, he allowed a few moments for his news to sink in. 
Some of the pilots wore satisfied grins.  Most of the others just
stared.  Only the whine of a transport on its final approach to
the runway broke the silence.
     "Sir?  What about the rest of our training?" Gloria asked. 
She was the only pilot who hadn't soloed yet.  Naturally, she was
the most interested in what kind of training preparations were to
be made.
     "You will finish your training in the Ozarks.  Lt Colonel
DeWitt will be coming with us," Jeff replied.
     "What about my ground crew?" Gail asked like it was a
challenge.
     "You will have a crew by tomorrow morning."
     "How did you do that?"
     "I had a little help from my friends."  He frowned at Gail. 
"I expect you won't be too picky at what we've come up with."
     Gail snorted.  "If they know their stuff, I don't care if
you get trained monkeys.  I'll take 'em."
     "Fine.  Any more questions?"  He scanned the young faces
before him and wondered just how many would survive this
assignment to return home to friends and family.  Not many, he
surmised.  Undertrained and serving in unknown territory was
usually a recipe for disaster.
     "We'll be ready, sir," Katherine said in a calm voice.
     "Very well, let's get organized."
     While Jeff huddled with the pilots, Cindy went over
assignments with her staff.  Each responded like a veteran;
accepting their task with quiet acknowledgment.  Good thing, too. 
There wasn't enough time for Cindy to do all the things necessary
to relocate by herself.
     
     It was after dark when Jeff returned home.  It took all
afternoon to get transport arranged, make certain the base
activation team had done its job, and a myriad of other details
big and small.  The pilots agreed on a squadron color scheme. 
Because of their destination, they chose a woodland camouflage.
Gail and a couple of the pilots were spending the evening
painting two Veritechs in the squadron colors so they could be
parked outside the hangar during the activation ceremony.  Daisy
had hinted that they had an idea for a squadron crest but was a
little vague on the details.  He hoped it wasn't going to be
something he'd regret.
     Since the ceremony itself was open to anyone who wanted to
attend, Aunt Margie and Father Ryan would most certainly show up. 
He hoped Kay would be there as well.  She always brought his
squadrons good luck when she attended the ceremonies.  He had the
feeling they were going to need all the good luck they could
handle with this squadron.
     Parking his rover, he paused before getting out. 
Yellowstone wasn't the most opulent base, compared to pre-war
facilities.  One could tell it was cobbled together out of
whatever materials were most plentiful after Khyron's uprising. 
Prefabricated plastiform was the building material of choice for
the RDF.  It seemed like they made everything out of it.  His
apartment, for example.
     Prefabricated blocks of individual apartments were simply
trucked to the building site, hoisted into place, and connected
to utilities.  It was simple, unimaginative, and most cost-effective.  
Add a little paint, in his case dark green, and you have a place 
almost fit for human occupation.
     Still, for all its faults, he was going to miss this place. 
With Kay here, it was the closest thing to a real home he'd had
in a long time.
     Surrounded by the cool spring evening breezes, he slowly
made his way to his apartment.  Scuffing a shoe on the walk, he
thought how even the pavement wasn't made out of the usual
materials.  Another type of plastiform, he figured.  Durable,
practical, and totally without character.
     Opening the front door of his temporary home, he noticed
right away something was amiss.  Where the usual living room set
was supposed to be, there was now nothing but bare carpet.
     "Kay?" he called, his eyes taking note of what was missing.
     "Back here," came his wife's voice from the kitchen.
     Closing the front door, he curiously looked around.  "So,
what's with the empty living room?"
     "I've been packing all day."  His wife emerged from the
kitchen carrying a small sack.  "Ever since Megan called - you
remember Megan, the General's secretary - anyway, when she said
you were going to move in two days, I knew I had to get busy." 
She handed him the bag.
     "What's this?"
     "Dinner," she said, returning to the kitchen.
     He looked inside the sack.  More soyburgers, he thought with
a grimace.  "This is it?"
     "Unless you can think of something else.  I've packed all
the dishes and given away all the food."
     "What about the furniture?"
     "The movers have already taken all of it to storage," she
replied as if it happened every day.
     Leaning against the wall entering their kitchen, he sighed. 
"I suppose they took the bed too."
     "The bed too."
     "Okay, we have dinner, an empty apartment, and no place to
sleep," he said with a sigh.
     His wife smiled sweetly.  "Dinner is in the bag," she
answered with a strange smile.  "The apartment may be mostly
empty but we can make do."
     "Make do?"
     When she reached over and stroked his cheek lovingly, he
knew exactly what she meant.  Maybe sleeping on the floor wasn't
going to be all that bad after all.

     The next morning at Grant Barracks was like any other except
for the members of 13 Squadron.
     "Where's my gloves?" Cindy yelled while frantically digging
through her dresser drawers.
     "Have you guys seen my belt?" Nancy called from the open
door.  "I loaned it to someone but can't remember who."
     "Check with Captain Lynn," Ona said in an unusually calm
voice.  "She told me she keeps extras because she's always losing
stuff herself."
     Nancy's rapid departure was replaced by a concerned-looking
Daisy.  Dressed in her Class A uniform, she leaned into the room
like she didn't want to be heard.
     "You guys have an extra pair of pantyhose?" she asked in an
embarrassed voice.
     Cindy eyed the larger girl.  "None that would fit you."
     Ona just shrugged.  "Sorry."
     "I haven't needed a pair in months.  I used the last as a
dust filter on the vacuum."  Daisy's strong shoulders sagged. 
She couldn't show up without hose.  That would be out of uniform.
     "Pity the PX doesn't open until ten," Cindy said.
     "Nine, it's Saturday," Ona corrected.
     "What am I going to do?" Daisy moaned, flapping her arms in
frustration.  
     "I suppose there's one solution," Ona said thoughtfully.
     "Are you sure you want to do that?" Cindy asked, eyeing her
roommate in a conspiratorial way.
     Daisy was in no mood for indirect references.  "What?  What
are you talking about?"
     Ona dug out an extra pair of pantyhose and some scissors.
     The plan was obvious to Daisy.  "Fine, but how do I keep
them from falling down?" she demanded.
     "Easy," Cindy said, pulling out the other part of their plan
and holding it up.  "Duct tape."

     Jeff arrived with his wife ten minutes before seven and
parked well away from the squadron headquarters.  Someone had
already been there placing large orange plastic cones to block
off direct access to the squadron area itself.  Like all military
ceremonies, this one required lots of room.
     As they walked towards the taped-off squadron area, they
noticed a small group of people industriously measuring off the
tarmac and placing little colored flags at various points.  Jeff
hoped that didn't mean his people would have to march or
something.  Just getting them to stand around looking like a
squadron was going to be tough enough.  The thought of having
them actually march together caused him to shudder.
     Slipping under a section of the taped-off area, they paused
to take in the preparations.
     "Looks like General Emerson is going all out," Kay said,
watching as two young men marked the tarmac with a piece of
chalk.
     "The last hurrah," Jeff replied impassively.
     "Don't be silly."  Kay turned to check his uniform like a
doting mother.
     "Am I?  I hadn't noticed."
     "Now you're being ridiculous.  This isn't the last of
anything.  It's the beginning of a great adventure," his wife
scolded.  "Stop being so glum.  Everything's going to be fine."
     Jeff sighed and subjected himself to his wife's last minute
inspection.  Once satisfied, she paused and smiled up at him.
     "Did I ever tell you how good you look in that uniform?"
     "Did I ever tell you how much I hate wearing it?" he
answered.  "I'd rather be wearing my flight suit."
     Kay cocked her head slightly, her impishly suggestive smile
contrasting with her dusky features.  "You look pretty good in
that too."
     Taking a deep breath, Jeff tugged on the bottom of his
tunic.  "As soon as we get this over with, we still have to get
the squadron packed and shipped out."
     "You'll get everything done.  Things have a way of working
out - if you believe in the right people."  She brushed off his
shoulders.  "Did you get enough sleep last night?"
     "Eventually," he answered with a thin smile.
     With an exasperated sigh, she turned him towards his
headquarters and added a slap on his rump.  "Go to work, champ."
     Waving his hand lazily, he made his way across the tarmac to
the steps of the headquarters building.  Facing the building, he
let his eyes roam over its worn and aging surface.  It wasn't
such a bad building, as military structures go.  It never leaked
or fell apart at some odd time.
     "Well, we've had some good times together," he said softly. 
Rolling his eyes and bringing a hand up to cup his forehead, he
moaned to himself: "I can't believe I'm talking to a building."
     His embarrassment disappeared when he noticed no one was
close enough to hear.  He also noticed that odd little bus with
the puppies and kittens painted on its side pull into a parking
spot near his rover and discharge its load of young people. 
Cindy's office staff, dressed like recruiting ad models, strode
proudly onto the tarmac while their younger companions followed,
excitedly chattering like a bunch of kids on holiday.  Father
Ryan trailed his charges, totally at peace with himself.
     More vehicles arrived, including three base shuttle buses,
disgorging their human cargo and creating a veritable flood of
humanity, all heading Jeff's way.
     At first, he pondered, somewhat surprised, at how impressive
it was that the whole base was turning out for the ceremony.  The
fact they dressed up for the occasion was a bonus in his opinion.
     His surprise turned to astonishment when they passed through
the tape barrier and headed for the hangar.  Just who were these
people and why weren't they staying with the spectators?  Closer
examination as they passed only deepened his curiosity.  Most
were as old or even older than he was.  Looking more like
residents of the 'RDF retirement home', they congregated in front
of the open hangar doors, chatting together like old friends at a
reunion.
     He resisted the urge to investigate.  After all, they
certainly looked like they knew what they were doing.  Maybe they
were sent by General Emerson as stand-ins.  Yeah, that had to be
it.  They were here only for the day so everyone would think the
squadron was fully staffed.
     "Morning, Colonel Brother-in-law," Gail called as she
approached.  Another bus-load of uniformed senior citizens passed
her on their way to the hangar.
     "You look good in your Class A's," he responded, casting a
curious glance at the group heading for his Veritech hangar.
     "Honey, I look good in everything I wear," she corrected
before noticing his curious expression.  Frowning at the growing
crowd in front of the hangar, she added: "Who ARE those guys?"
     "Not a clue."  The sight of Dutch and Mad Dog approaching
fit all the pieces in place.  "But I think we're about to find
out."
     "Greetings, Lighthorse," Mad Dog called as they drew near. 
"Beautiful morning for standing around outside."
     "It is indeed," Jeff replied.
     "I see some of my recruits have arrived," Dutch noted,
adding a wave towards the group in front of the hangar.  Some
shouted greetings with their return waves.
     "I was about to ask you about them," Jeff said with a
curious look.
     "I told you I could find you a ground crew."  Dutch grinned
at Gail.  "You just need to know where to look."
     Avoiding his leering smile, Gail frowned at the growing mob. 
"Those are supposed to be my maintenance crew?" she gasped.
     "Don't let a little snow on the roof fool you, Captain,"
Dutch scolded in a grandfatherly way.  "You won't find a more
knowledgeable group anywhere.  Some of those folks built
Veritechs, others developed improvements that you're using today,
and some the Colonel should recognize.  They're from his old
outfit down along the border."
     Mad Dog grinned at Jeff.  "You remember, Colonel.  They
served with us in The Wild Bunch - 10 Squadron.  Some are even
veterans of Butte Ridge."
     Jeff squinted at the group in question but couldn't honestly
claim he recognized any of them.  "I guess it's been a long
time," he finally admitted.
     Nudging his companion in the ribs, Dutch chuckled.  "Listen
to him.  He's forgotten already."  They grinned at each other.
     "Forgotten?" Jeff prompted with a frown.
     "Take a closer look at the one with the red hair and glasses
- there on the right," Dutch said, pointing.
     Again, Jeff squinted at the group, this time trying to
isolate on a single person.  His eyesight was perfect, according
to the RDF medical report, but he still wasn't making connection
until he recalled events leading up to Butte Ridge.  "My old Crew
Chief," he gasped.
     "Yup, he's a little heavier and wears glasses now but as
soon as I mentioned you needed help, he volunteered," Mad Dog
said with an expression that could only be described as profound
respect.
     "I thought he retired and was running a little store south
of here."  Jeff's eyes roamed over the rest of the mob in hopes
of recognizing more.
     "He was but he turned over the business to his son last year
and just worked part time to help out.  Ever since his wife died,
he's kinda been without a direction.  He jumped at the chance to
re-enlist.  This squadron probably saved his life."  Mad Dog's
words could have fit any one of the new ground crew.  Most had
been facing their declining years without meaning of any kind. 
Thirteen Squadron represented another chance for them to be
useful, to find meaning to their lives.
     "But... but they're so... old," Gail protested.  "Can they
still work like they used to?"  She wasn't rejecting their help,
just being cautious.  She knew well the demands of a squadron in
a hot zone.  It required work day and night, without regard to
their physical limitations.
     "They can still do it," Dutch said with a reassuring look. 
"Because they want to."
     "Anyway, not all of your new crew are their age," Mad Dog
noted.  "I made a deal with Steve Friedman over at the Rehab
Detachment.  Seems he had a bunch that wanted a little excitement
in their lives and we had some people who wanted to work but
didn't want to be part of a combat squadron.  So, we arranged a
swap.  He gets experienced craftsmen for his rebuilds and we get
some energetic young pups who know their way around all sorts of
RDF birds."
     What they were saying certainly made sense to Jeff.  The
kind of experience this new crew represented couldn't be bought
anywhere for any amount of money.  The mix of old and young could
prove to be energizing to both groups.  "How many did you get?"
he asked, still looking at the growing ground crew crowd.
     "Forty-two are showing up today," Dutch replied.  "A dozen
more will join us at the new base.  Most of Friedman's people
will show up in the next week or so."
     "That would give us..."  Gail paused to do the math.  "I'd
say around sixty.  Yeah, I could work with that."
     "If you'd excuse us, Colonel, I'll take your Maintenance
Officer to meet her new crew," Dutch offered with another knowing
smile.
     Jeff just nodded.  Maybe Kay was right.  Maybe things did
have a way of working out if you just believed in the right
people.
     He looked over towards the tape barrier.  Kay was easy to
pick out of the growing crowd, standing with Aunt Margie and
Father Ryan happily chatting like old friends.  Some of the
younger orphans clustered around the three like little puppies,
their eyes constantly in motion, taking in all the activities and
responding happily whenever Kay or Margie reached out to touch
one of them or paused to listen to their questions.  He thought
how Kay would have been a good mother.  Pity she'd never have the
chance.
     Doctor Nikki Takahashi arrived about the same time as his
pilots.  All looked proper in their uniforms but he couldn't help
noticing that Daisy was walking a little oddly.  Probably from
the shoes, he thought with a silent chuckle.  Even low heels were
a challenge to someone used to wearing RDF flight boots.

     Final preparations for the ceremony went smoothly.  Two of
the freshly-painted Veritechs were rolled out and positioned in
front of the hangar doors, seats for the VIP's were placed behind
the barrier tape, a portable PA system was installed, and the
band arrived, marching in to the rousing beat of its small drum
section.
     The headquarters personnel assigned to the ceremony briefed
everyone on what was going to take place, finishing with a quick
walk-through of the whole ceremony.  Everything was perfect.  The
base Social Services Unit even sent over a concession van, which
got instantly mobbed by Father Ryan's remaining orphans.
     The band struck up a series of martial tunes which lent a
toe-tapping atmosphere to the festivities.  The only thing
missing was a carousel.
     Still in their assigned formations, 13 Squadron remained 'at
ease'.  The new maintenance crew formed in front of the hangar,
looking surprisingly sharp despite many of their aging uniforms
straining to hold in guts expanded by soft civilian life and
conforming to age-induced physical alterations of their owners. 
Despite that, Captain Lynn stood proudly in front of her new
crew, convinced she was getting the best deal possible despite
their obvious shortcomings.
     Next to them was Lieutenant Wallace and her young office
staff.  They looked enviously at their younger friends sipping
soft drinks and sucking on popsicles.  Every now and then, one of
them would surreptitiously wave to someone in a 'look at me' kind
of way.  Cindy ignored their lack of proper decorum, thankful
that they all knew how to stand at attention without passing out
and looked good in their new uniforms while doing it.
     The last formation, directly in front of the headquarters
building, were the pilots.  They happily listened to the band's
music and talked of things trivial and important among
themselves.  

     Lieutenant Colonel DeWitt and Major Davis held their own
formation just off to the side of the others; close enough to be
part of the squadron but not close enough to detract from the
pilots.  They were in their own little world; a place they felt
most comfortable.  That is, until Doctor Takahashi joined them. 
Their first hint she was there came when Mad Dog yelped and
grabbed his butt.
     "How ya doin, handsome?" she asked with a seductive grin
without looking his way.  "Got room for a lady?"
     "You know her?" Dutch asked his friend.  Mad Dog gave him a
strange expression and slowly bent forward to regard Doctor
Takahashi with the same strange expression.  He was either going
to kill that woman or he was falling in love.

     The band had just finished a Sousa favorite when one of the 
Lieutenants in charge of the ceremony approached.
     "Could you play something for Colonel Stuart?" he asked.
     "Like what?" the band leader asked.
     "Oh, I don't know.  I understand one of his ancestors was a
famous cavalry leader.  Do you have anything appropriate?"
     The band leader smiled.  "Got just the thing."

     Daisy was complaining to Nancy in a soft voice about how the
duct tape was going to be hell to get off when the band struck up
its next tune.  A couple of bars into the music, her voice fell
silent and her face slowly dissolved into a murderous expression. 
She wasn't alone.
     Twelve pairs of eyes slowly turned to regard the band with a
look that would cause a sensible man to run for his life.  Only
their RDF training prevented a mad, murderous rush that would
most certainly lead to bloodshed.
     No such restraints were holding Kay Stuart back.  Vaulting
the tape barrier in a most unlady-like manner, she stalked the
band leader in a way that suggested there was going to be hell to
pay and she was there to collect.
     The band, facing the squadron while they played, were the
first to notice something was amiss.  As they caught sight of the
looks they were getting from the pilots of 13 Squadron, one-by-one 
they stopped playing until only a lone clarinet and the band
leader remained oblivious.
     That lasted just long enough for Kay Stuart to reach the
band leader.  Snatching the baton out of his hand, she glared at
him like she couldn't make up her mind what sort of violent end
this meeting was going to take.
     "Hey!  Give that back," the band leader shouted.
     "I'll give it back," Kay growled.  "I'll shove it up your--"
     "KAY!"  Only Jeff's sharp command delayed the band leader's
demise.  Her anger still bubbling, turned its attention Jeff's
way, her eyes glowing with anger.
     "Jeffrey...," she said slowly in a warning tone of voice.
     "It's okay, dear.  I'll take care of it," he said, not
wanting to get too close to her himself.  She looked like she
wouldn't hesitate clawing her way through him to get at the
bewildered band leader.
     Putting one arm around the man's shoulders, Jeff walked him
a few paces away from the still vibrating Kay.  She continued to
grip the band leader's baton in both hands.
     "I appreciate the thought but feel compelled to tell you
that the old 7th Cavalry theme - 'Gerryowen' - is totally
inappropriate for this occasion," Jeff said picking some lint
from the band leader's coat.
     The man nervously glanced at Kay.  "Is that what set her
off?"
     "Not to mention them," Jeff added, jerking a thumb towards
the still glowering pilots, who looked only marginally less
likely to 'explain things' to him themselves.
     The band leader gulped.  "That bad, huh?"
     Holding up two fingers only a couple of millimeters apart
Jeff replied: "You came that close to recreating the Battle of
Little Big Horn right here in living color and you know how that
turned out."
     "They wouldn't," the band leader gasped.
     "Like wolves on a pile of meat."
     The band leader gulped again looked once more at Kay Stuart,
who was still holding his baton by its ends and glaring his way. 
He flinched when the baton snapped in half.  "I see what you
mean.  We'll avoid that music in the future."
     "Good man," Jeff said, patting him on the shoulder.  "Now go
play something nice."
     Jeff watched as the band leader returned to his position,
making a wide detour around Kay.  Pulling a spare baton from
inside his coat, he announced they'd stick to Sousa for the time
being.
     Jeff retrieved Kay and escorted her back to her place on the
other side of the barrier.
     "I'm sorry about that, Jeffrey," she said, her voice
sounding more rational than it had moments ago.
     "That's okay, dear," he replied, patting her arm.  "Totally
understandable.  I'm curious about one thing.  Why did you jump
the tape instead of going under it?"
     Kay looked at him and blinked.  "I jumped it?"
     "Cleared it by a good foot."
     "I must have been angrier than I thought."
     Jeff held the tape up so she could slip back under to her
side.  "I kinda like you that way; unpredictable."
     Aunt Margie was there to meet her.  "Young lady, you need
some anger control sessions," she said sternly.  It was not
always easy to tell when Margie was kidding.  Only the twinkle in
her eye gave it away.  She slowly leaned closer and added: "Of
course, if I were a little younger, I'd beaten you to the louse."
     Kay's reaction was certainly more lady-like than with the
band leader.  She demurely giggled at the image that formed of
the good Christian Aunt Margie jumping the barrier and running
down the poor musician with obvious intent of causing bodily
harm.
     Jeff just shook his head and headed back towards the
squadron.  Things at their new base were going to be strange
enough without Aunt Margie's presence.  He couldn't help a
chuckle of his own at the thought of what the Ozarks would become
if Margie were to relocate.
     Half way across the tarmac, he was intercepted by Katherine. 
From her expression, it was something serious.
     "Sir?  Could I speak to you for a moment?" she asked,
glancing around.
     "Of course.  Just make it quick.  The General is due any
time now," Jeff replied, checking his watch without slowing or
stopping.
     "Yes, well..., last night, we had a little meeting - just
the pilots and Lieutenant Wallace," she said, falling in beside
him and matching his pace.
     "What kind of meeting?" Jeff asked, not certain he liked the
sound of this.
     "We were thinking about the squadron and everything," she
said like she wasn't certain how far to go.  Evidently, whatever
they discussed was important to them.
     "I'm listening."
     "We don't want to be known simply as: 'Thirteen Squadron'. 
Other squadrons have impressive names that mean something.  We
don't want to be known as a number," she said.    
     Stopping in the middle of the taped off area, Jeff turned to
Katherine and said: "Get to the point, Captain."
     "If it wouldn't be all that much trouble, this is what we'd
like to name the squadron," she said, handing him an index card.
     He frowned at what was written on the card.  "Are you
certain about this?"
     Katherine nodded.
     "And everyone agreed?"
     "Yes, sir.  Even Ona agreed."
     With raised eyebrows, he sighed.  "Well, if this is what you
folks want, I see no reason to object.  In fact, I kind of like
it."
     "Thank you, sir," Katherine said with a big smile and sharp
salute.
     Returning the salute while pocketing the card, he watched
her happily stride across the tarmac to the squadron.  Their
anticipation obvious as she approached.
     He couldn't tell by their reactions when she spoke to them
but got the feeling they took it as good news.  In any case, he
had little time to consider the matter as General Emerson's car
had arrived.
     Jeff quickly made a bee-line to the stopped vehicle.  The
driver bounded out and held the rear door open as General Emerson
emerged into the warm mid-morning sun.  A couple of his aides
scurried about doing jobs that only aides fully understood or
appreciated.
     Greeting Jeff warmly, Rolf pulled off his sunglasses and
squinted at the assembled squadron.
     "Looks like you have a full compliment," he said with a nod.
     "We're still undersized, sir," Jeff replied.  "It's all in
the report I sent over last night."
     "I haven't had time to read the details, Colonel.  My staff
assures me you have a good foundation.  We'll add personnel as
they come available."  Rolf looked over at the band and frowned. 
"Gads, don't those people know anything but Sousa?"
     "I'm sure they do but Sousa is safer," Jeff replied.
     "Safer?"
     "I'll explain later."  Jeff indicated the way towards the PA
system.  "Shall we?"
     Rolf grunted with a nod and led the way.  Jeff and the aides
fell in behind, matching his stride.  They could hear Katherine's
voice above the march music calling the squadron to attention. 
To Jeff's relief, they appeared to come to attention as a unit.
     Almost to the review position, Rolf suddenly jerked to a
halt.  A couple of the aides collided at the sudden stop.
     "Something wrong, sir?" Jeff asked.
     Rolf spun around a frowned at him.  "Where are your pilots?"
he demanded.
     Jeff glanced at his assembled squadron and back at the
General.  "Right there, sir."
     "Can't be.  There's nothing but women there," Rolf gasped.
     "Women?"  Jeff leaned to the side to look around the
General.  "By golly, you're right.  We need to start an
investigation immediately."
     "Don't patronize me, Colonel.  I can't send women into that
hell-hole.  Leonard would barbeque my butt."
     "Well, I don't see what can be done about it now.  You
ordered me to put together a squadron with what was available." 
Jeff swept an arm towards the assembled pilots.  "They were
available."
     "I thought you had better sense than that," Rolf growled,
turning on his heel and starting once again for the review
position.
     He'd taken only a few steps, muttering about how Leonard's
whole head turns red when he's angry, when he again jerked to a
halt.  Once more, aides collided as the tiny formation tried to
avoid trampling the General.
     Turning on Jeff, Rolf pointed at the squadron.  "And just
who are THEY supposed to be?" he demanded.
     "Who?"
     "The formation next to your 'pilots'."
     "That would be my office staff.  You know; clerks, typists,
people to answer the phone."
     "They're KIDS!"
     "I'll admit they look young but I can assure you their
enlistment papers insist they're sixteen," Jeff said with a
straight face.
     Rolf stared at him incredulously for just a moment.  "Thank
goodness.  For a minute there, I thought your pilots had brought
their children to work."
     "They wouldn't do that, sir.  Not with the fine base day
care system here at Yellowstone."  It was hard keeping a straight
face.  Especially, since Rolf's expressions were so priceless.
     "Your pilots have children?" Rolf gasped.
     "Of course not, sir."  When the General nodded and turned
back around, Jeff added: "At least, none that we know of."
     That had the desired effect.  Rolf's shoulders sagged
noticeably as he started walking.  Jeff chuckled to himself as he
followed.  He had to admit, this was kinda fun.  
     The little command group cautiously trailed the two senior
officers, looking distinctly less military now that everyone was
following the General like he was a big truck with no brake
lights.
     To their relief, he made no further stops - even when he
noticed Captain Lynn and her 'veteran' maintenance staff.  All he
did was shake his head and mutter how he'd have to do some
'creative writing' in his report to Leonard.
     Once in position, the band finished it's music and Jeff
marched out front to receive the assembly report.  Stopping a
couple of paces from Katherine, he returned her salute.
     "Squadron formed.  All present or accounted for, SIR," she
said in a loud, clipped voice.  She sounded and looked properly
official.
     "Very well," Jeff replied, dropping his salute and turning
to face the General.  Saluting General Emerson, he announced in a
loud command voice: "Thirteen Squadron formed, sir."
     Rolf's return salute looked parade-ground perfect but Jeff
could see the general's eyes roaming over his squadron which
complimented his pained expression.  He may be formally
activating this squadron but it was clear his heart was no longer
in it.
     General Emerson's remarks were short and to the point.  He
was pleased, or so he said, to reactivate a squadron with such a
long and proud history.  Thirteen Squadron was one of the first
fighter squadrons in the RDF, having won battle honors in the
defense of the Earth, in what the RDF called: 'Khyron's War' -
comprising the actual sneak attack and numerous small battles
that surrounded it, and lastly the infamous Malcontents'
Uprising.  
     He impressed upon everyone present the tradition of the RDF
as peacekeepers and defenders of freedom.
     With a final declaration that the squadron was now
operational, the band struck up another bouncy Sousa tune while
General Emerson moved to inspect the new squadron.  Jeff and
Katherine fell in behind at the prescribed distances.
     Their first stop was the three lonely veterans posted on the
end.  Emerson hesitated only a moment in front of Dutch, wearing
a quizzical expression as he scanned down to the old man's black
cowboy boots.  Slowly turning his head to frown at Jeff, Rolf
growled: "I'm not even going to ask."
     "Probably wise, sir."
     "You are taking these three with you, right?"
     "Unless you can think of some reason why not."
     "Are you kidding?"
     Dutch and Mad Dog exchanged grins.  Dr Takahashi continued
looking straight ahead, seemingly oblivious to all going on
around her.  General Emerson couldn't shake her tranquility, even
when he stopped in front of her and grunted like he wasn't
surprised to see her in this formation.
     Moving on to the pilots, Rolf slowly made his way down the
first row, nodding like he was impressed, until he got to Daisy.
     Pausing in front of the serious-looking Lieutenant, he
slowly scanned her up and down.  "Weren't you over at 32
Squadron?" he asked.
     "Yes, sir," she answered in a clipped voice.
     "It's good to see Colonel Stuart is getting an experienced
pilot.  I'm sure he won't regret picking you," Rolf said with a
raised eyebrow.
     "Thank you, sir."  Daisy's response caused her throw out her
chest with pride.  That, however, proved too much for uniform
tunic.  Already stretched to the breaking point, the third button
down suddenly failed.  Like a pistol shot, the button bounced off
General Emerson's chest before dropping to the tarmac, rolling
around in a little wounded circle, slowly wobbling and dying at
Jeff's feet.
     Emerson froze in place, staring at the other buttons and
holding his breath.  Despite the sudden release of tension all
along the tunic's facing, the remaining buttons appeared
perilously close to exploding in all directions.  Slowly, Emerson
backed away as Daisy closed her eyes and tried to think herself
thinner.
     "Perhaps we should move on, sir," Jeff suggested, holding
out the button.  "Want a souvenir?"
     Rolf eyed the button and glanced at the furiously sweating
Daisy before rolling his eyes towards Jeff.  "Give the young lady
back her button."
     With a nod, Jeff pressed the button into Daisy's sweaty hand
and patted her once on the shoulder before following the General
around the end of their formation.
     "I told you to let out your uniform jacket," Virginia hissed
at her sister in a voice she hoped wouldn't be heard.
     "Will you shut up," Daisy growled in an equally hushed
voice.
     "I don't know how you did it but you've gotten even bigger
since the last inspection."
     "Ginnie, so help me --"
     General Emerson, now inspecting the back row of pilots,
interrupted the discussion by sticking his head between the
sisters.  "Is there a problem here?"
     "No, sir," the sisters answered together, snapping to
attention, their eyes front.
     Satisfied, Rolf returned to the inspection.  Despite moving
away from the Mills sisters, he could still hear angry whispers
coming from their direction.  He did his best to ignore them. 
After all, in 48 hours, they'd be off his base and Jeffrey's
problem.
     The rest of his inspection of the pilots went reasonably
well until he got to Corporal Anne Twotree.  Despite her
reasonable facsimile of standing at attention, his eyes were
drawn to what looked to him like a swollen cheek.
     "Are you okay?" he asked, tilting his head to get a better
look at her cheek.  It was definitely swollen.
     "Is there something wrong, sir?" Jeff asked.
     "This lady's cheek is swollen," Rolf insisted.
     "Oh, I'm sure it's just the light, sir."
     "No, I'm certain there's something wrong with her cheek."
     "I'll have the doctor check her out after the ceremony,"
Jeff suggested, hoping to get the General to move along before he
discovered the real reason for her puffy cheek.
     "Yes, do.  I'd hate to think one of your pilots has mumps or
something."  General Emerson turned and moved along the line of
remaining pilots.
     While he was distracted by Ona, Jeff caught out of the
corner of his eye, Anne starting to blow a large bubble.
     Without a sound, he snatched the bubble and its attached wad
of gum from her mouth, hiding his hands behind his back.
     Rolf caught the movement and cast Jeff a strange look. 
"What was that?" he asked.
     "What was what, sir?" Jeff replied, feeling his fingers
sticking together from the deflated gum.
     "Didn't you just..."  Rolf made a weak swat at the air with
his hand.
     "Insect, sir."
     "Oh, I see."
     As soon as Rolf went back to talking quietly to Ona, Jeff
turned towards Katherine, grabbed her hand and slapped the sticky
wad of gum in her palm.  Her expression was like she'd just been
given a dead animal.
     "What am I --"
     "Just get rid of it."  Jeff turned suddenly and stepped
closer to Rolf.
     Katherine looked around for some way of disposing of her
sticky problem.  Spotting Anne, she grabbed the girl's hand and
placed the wad in its palm.
     Anne, never one to waste a resource so valuable as post-war
bubble gum, popped the whole mess back into her mouth and worked
it into her other cheek.
     Wiping her hands together, Katherine hurried to catch up
with the inspection party.
     
     They followed Rolf through the rest of the squadron without
incident.  That is, with the exception of Cindy's office staff. 
When Emerson stopped in front of the youngest girl and looked her
up and down, she stared at him with a terrified expression.
     "Sixteen, huh?" Rolf said with an incredulous look Jeff's
way.
     "I saw it on the enlistment papers myself, sir."
     Rolf caught the girl's expression and sighed before moving
on.  He couldn't believe what he was seeing.  He also couldn't
believe that he was going along with this.  If he didn't need
this squadron so badly, he'd put a stop to this charade.
     Jeff followed Rolf, stopping in front of the terrified girl. 
Looking down at her, he smiled and gave her a wink before moving
on.  Her relieved expression was his reward.

     Moving back out front, General Emerson led the inspection
party back to their starting position.  Turning to Jeff and
Katherine, he accepted their salutes.
     "Your orders will be delivered this afternoon, Colonel. 
Good luck to you and your squadron," he said before turning on
his heel and heading for his car.  He'd had enough for one day.
     Jeff watched him go before turning to Katherine.  "Dismiss
the squadron, Captain."
     "Yes, sir."
     Jeff stood behind Katherine as she faced the others.  Three
weeks ago, the squadron was only a dream with little chance of
becoming a reality.  Today, he faced another operational squadron
and another tour of some North American hot-spot.
     Looking over towards the crowd, he caught Kay's eyes and
hung on for as long as he could.  Her smile was typical of her;
satisfied but purposeful.  
     She knew the pride her husband took in his squadrons.  This
time, she shared that pride.  These were like her girls; many
she'd known since they were children.  Now, she was watching them
form into a purposeful force.  
     Jeff's thoughts were more apologetic.  He silently promised
this would be the last time.  "One more time," he said just loud
enough for him to hear.  "Just one more time."
     So involved with watching his wife, he barely heard
Katherine's command.
     "Fox Squadron!  Dismissed!"
     Voices rising like a Veritech engine spooling up, the pilots
led a joyful tremolo that rose in pitch as the girls high-fived
and hugged each other.  They were official now.  They were Fox
Squadron - RDF.