Ha! Got to this one a lot quicker!
I've had to adjust Colonel Stuart's age due to conflicts with the
ROBOTECH Chronology.
Tsk, tsk. Someone caught you on a continuity error, eh?
The two Fox sisters stood in front of the Thirty-Second
Squadron Maintenance Hangar. In better days this aging structure
would have been buzzing with activity. Today, only a few
Veritechs in various states of repair occupied the maintenance
bays. Strewn about like discarded cardboard boxes, plastiform
crates dotted the floor; some empty others not.
some empty, others not (I think)
One in every
three lights either didn't work or flickered as if in their last
moments of life. Birds noisily announced their residence in the
trusses holding up the roof; their chirping echoing off the aging
metal walls. It wasn't the neat, tidy building seen before the
Zentraedi War. Odors of lubricating fluids, stagnant water, and
human sweat mingled; warning the sisters of what awaited them
inside.
Obviously marines. Jarheads all smell like that. They enjoy the odor. :)
"Geez, and I thought *our* new home looked bad,"
It does. First Rule of Crap: Just because someone's else crap smells worse
than yours, doesn't makes yours stink any less. :)
Samantha
groused. "This is an active Veritech squadron?"
Katherine sighed. "There's not much money available for
maintenance anymore. Not since that idiot Leonard started taking
everything for his precious ASC."
Well if he's using all of the funds for his army and taking it away from
the possible future opposition, it sounds to me like he's actually quite
bright. :)
glance before turning back to his book and asking what they
wanted. When Katherine told him who they were looking for, he
was less than helpful. Rifling through some papers and glancing
round
around
like he didn't recognize where he was, the man finally and
drop 'and'
said he wasn't sure but they might find the person they were
looking for somewhere near the back of the hangar.
I'd use 'rear' here since you use 'back' at the start of the next sentence.
imaginable repair, check, or upgrade. Instead, only a few
enlisted people could be seen. Most of them looked like they
were more interested in finding a good place to nap than doing
anything productive.
Nonsense. Sleep is productive. Try going without it for a couple of days
and see how effective you are. :)
than an active squadron's hangar. Its formerly distinctive red
and gold color was smudged off in places, mud splattered its
underside, streaks of fluid cut a network of trails across its
legs, even the squadron insignia looked worn and lifeless. The
craft had obviously seen better days.
I don't know. The last line seems unessecary since the rest of the
paragraph pretty much indicates that.
"There she is," Samantha said indicating a figure on her
back with her upper torso partially obscured beneath one of the
Battloid's giant feet, looking like someone who'd recently been
stepped on.
nice image there.
The closer they got, the more detail they noticed about the
person underneath the fighter. She was a big woman, not fat,
just big.
Yes. We men use the term 'big boned' to be on the safe side. :)
"I'm Captain Katherine Fox and this is Lieutenant Samantha
Fox.
"not the singer," Katherine quickly pointed out.
the girl was dressed. Grease-stained coveralls, worn boots, and
her coal black hair, she guessed to be shoulder length, was
restrained by a grubby-looking hat turned so its brim was facing
backwards.
What? Never seen a mechanic before?
"I hate to break this to you but you shouldn't need to ever
change the blast deflector." Samantha was obviously not trying
to sound smug but the way she said that sure made it sound that
way. She only made things worse by quoting a section of the
Veritech's Maintenance Manual that suggested a Veritech blast
deflector should last longer than the estimated life-span of the
Veritech itself and thus, should never need to be replaced.
"Honey, the only thing the Veritech's Maintenance Manual is good for is
wiping your ass with after a healthy dump, as any good mechanic will tell
you,"
Daisy assured her.
Daisy just regarded the young officer with a scowl. "You
must be one of them 'academy' graduates."
Samantha bristled. "At least I know enough not to try and
replace a part that isn't worn out or defective."
If she was expecting the big Lakota woman to take up the
challenge, she must have been disappointed.
Oh? Another Lakota? That's the first you mention that. I think I'd do it
sooner than this far in the conversation.
Daisy stopped tugging and hung her head. With a sigh she
waved a hand towards the rest of the seemingly empty hangar.
"You *see* any maintenance crew? I mean, besides those picking
their noses or taking naps."
She could always lug wrench one as an example to get the others going.
"Yeah, we're scheduled to take over a small base in the
Ozarks in thirty days. It's a two year tour keeping the peace
between Earth Government territory, the Arkansas Protectorate,
and the Barony of York.
Argh! I'm trying to remember my timeline. Was the Arkansas Protectorate
where the Malcontent Uprisings took place?
The CO expects we'll see lots of
action," Katherine noted like she was selling a used car.
Sounds awkward. I think I'd rewrite it as 'action." Katherine sounded like
she was trying to sell a used car.'
or something along those lines.
All three jumped as the voice echoed in the mostly-empty
hangar. Daisy banged her head on the blast chamber walls causing
an avalanche of black, sooty material to coat her upper body.
Heh.
"She's a pilot?" Samantha gasped. She obviously didn't
think so either.
"She's a helicopter pilot,' the Daisy
pilot," Daisy
said apologetically.
"Helicopter pilot?"
Yeah. Not a real pilot at all. :)
Samantha leaned against the Veritech and crossed her arms,
regarding her sister with a raised eyebrow. "Wasn't it you who
told me they teach
they could teach
"All right!" Virginia angrily yelled back, this time without
the artificial aid. It wasn't much better. For such a little
person, she had a piercing voice. "You're always yelling at me!"
"I do not!"
"Do too!"
"DO NOT!"
"BIG BOOBS!"
"MICROBUTT!"
Real pleasant unit forming up all right.
The Mills sisters continued their verbal assaults,
escalating into linguistic territories Katherine and Samantha had
rarely explored.
"Excuse me," Katherine said pleasantly.
No effect. In fact, the argument seemed to escalate.
"Excuse me!" She tried yelling.
I'd say she is yelling. I'd change it to 'me!" she yelled.
Grudgingly, Daisy pushed herself to her feet and stood next
to Samantha, towering over the younger Fox sister. Katherine
blinked at the woman. Daisy was easily six to eight inches
taller and a lot more sturdily built. She also noticed how the
woman's coveralls appeared to be in a losing battle trying to
restrain and contain her impressive dimensions. She swallowed,
blinked again and attempted to guess the woman's bust size. On a
scale from 'Missing In Action' to her own 'Not Bad At All', she
rated Daisy somewhere around 'Oh My God!'.
Don't feel bad. Gravity will take its toll. :)
Virginia stepped onto an access platform high above their
heads and quietly climbed down to the hangar floor, ending next
to Katherine but still eyeing her older sister. The two sisters
just used 'sister' at the end of the last sentence. I'd say 'siblings' for
variation.
"Well, I had a little trouble in flight school. That's why
I fly choppers," the younger Mills sheepishly admitted to the
floor while she toyed with the zipper on her spotless flight
suit. "I don't know why it happens but I sometimes have trouble
when an aircraft goes fast. It's like the plane is flying me. I
don't feel like I'm in control as much as I do in a chopper."
That's bad news.
"Very well," Daisy said giving up her assault and standing
with Samantha's hand still embedded in her chest. She frowned at
the violation before slapping Samantha's hand away and wiping her
nose again.
Heh
A hurt look flickered across Virginia's face. "I'm sorry,"
she answered, adjusting her collar and glancing between the
Foxes. "It's just that everyone looks down on chopper pilots.
You know, like we're not as good as they are.
"That's because you aren't," Samantha assured her.
As the younger Mills sister grumbled on about being left
behind, Katherine's expression melted into complete disbelief.
Here was a devastatingly beautiful woman, one who could easily
grace more posters than the illustrious Lynn Minmei, talking like
an infantry grunt. The more Virginia talked, the worse her
language got. While Katherine was no stranger to coarse words,
listening to such a beauty talk that way certainly destroyed any
illusions she might have had about physical attractiveness. She
was so caught up in analyzing the possible causes to the woman's
horrendous speech patterns that she almost missed her next
question.
"Wanna have sex?" Virginia asked, desperately trying to make the fic into a
lemon.
Katherine pretended she didn't hear her sister. "Why don't
we all go have some nice lunch and get to know one another?"
It was Virginia's turn to extend an incredulous look
Katherine's way. "You're related to Pollyanna, aren't you?"
"No, I don't think so." Katherine struck a thoughtful pose.
"There's a Pollyanna Walking Dog over in Kyle. She's related to
my step-uncle. Or was it my third cousin?"
Heh.
*****
Back at Thirteen Squadron Headquarters, Colonel Lawrence was
just finishing up his morning paperwork. A yawn escaped as he
leaned back in his chair, arms high over his head, and stretched.
He needed to get up and walk around. Maybe even get another cup
of coffee. That was another surprising talent of Lieutenant
Wallace - she made a killer cup of coffee.
Burn a hole right through the wall of your stomach. The REAL stuff.
She was right, of course. Since he'd first arrived, he
couldn't recall the phone ever ringing. He knew the thing worked
because he used it himself for outgoing calls. "Well, okay.
Just don't be too long. I'm expecting a call about the Veritechs
any time now."
Sort of like thinking a download from the net will only take a few seconds.
He's going to be waiting a wee bit.
With a promise that they'd hurry back,
in a week or two.
when he was startled by the appearance of another person in the
room. Standing in front of Cindy's desk was a short, athletic-
looking young lady.
So they're all going to be women, I see.
"I'm sorry. Can I help you?" he asked. She looked like
something just removed from a clothes dryer.
If she's short, she might very well have come from one. :)
"I'm Lieutenant Missy
'Missy' and not 'Melissa'?
He frantically looked around for somewhere besides the floor
to put the unconscious woman.
He was in luck. There was a bed of nails lying next to the water cooler.
It was either Cindy's desk or the
sofa in his office. He eyed the organized chaos that was his
Admin Officer's desk before deciding on the sofa. Scooping the
limp figure into his harms,
arms
he struggled to get her through the
door to his office. All the time, his mind was racing with
questions. Reporting for duty? What did she mean by 'reporting
for duty'?
It probably has something to do with digging a latrine. (Seriously, he
should know very well it's obvious she's been transferred to his squadron)
*After reading the rest of the fic, I now understand
He dialed the phone. It answered on the second ring.
"Yellowstone Base Hospital," came a female's voice at the
other end.
"Yes, I'd like --"
"If this is an emergency, press 1. For medical records,
press 2. For the pharmacy, press 3..."
Sigh. Just like real life. I miss the ability to talk to a person.
In disbelief, he hung up the phone. He wasn't going to
leave his name in hopes that some overworked RN or disinterested
doctor would eventually call. Besides, how would he explain what
happened? Yes, doctor, she just wandered in and passed out in my
arms. No, this rarely happens out here. They're usually awake
when they throw themselves at me.
Liar. :)
Jeff sighed. Even his sense of humor seemed out of place.
While he was contemplating what to do next, his problem
solved itself.
Missy passed away in her sleep.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said softly. "I haven't slept in two
days. I left the Miami Base on --"
"Miami Base?" he blurted out, interrupting her. Miami Base
was where the defecting squadron was based.
three 'base's in quick succession. 'was headquartered' for the last one
might work.
"You look like you haven't eaten in two days either," Jeff
observed. When she nodded, he pulled out one of the survival
ration bars he kept in a desk drawer for emergencies
he keeps survival ration bars in his desk for emergencies? Is he afraid of
becoming under seige or something? And given how crappy those tend to
taste, one would think he'd keep a candy bar there instead.
Jeff raised his hand to halt her story. "You ought to be
telling this to RDF Intelligence."
No kidding.
Arriving like a visiting head of state, the pompous officer
began demanding things, like the complete plans for the base. He
claimed the ASC would be taking over soon and that there was no
place in the new world order for the RDF.
Well, he's right, as it turns out.
Forces clear out a local town to provide a wider free-fire zone
for his Hover Tanks, the *real* grumbling began.
Leonard allowed a moron like that to become a general? He didn't come
across as that much of an idiot. I'm hoping the general was under orders to
cause an incident.
Jeff's jaw dropped. They were going to shoot her in cold
blood? He'd seen a lot of things in his time, many that could be
counted as atrocities, but the idea of taking another human being
out and killing them with no more concern than snuffing a
cockroach stoked a dislike in him that bordered on hatred.
Especially since he liked cockroaches.
"So you made a bee-line for Yellowstone."
"No, I went south just enough to give anyone tracking me the
impression I was heading for Cuba. Then I killed my IFF and
anything that emitted a signal, dropped flat on the deck and
headed out over the Gulf of Mexico."
Jeff leaned back stroking his chin. Smart cookie. Turning
off her electronics so pursuing fighters, Veritech or not,
couldn't electronically interrogate her bird and get a fix on her
position. Hugging the waves would make her hard to detect for
anyone but a Cat's-Eye.
Does sound smart.
"Anyway, by dusk, I was starving and barely able to stay
awake. By the time I took off, I'd made up my mind where to go."
"Where?"
"Home, sir."
"Home?"
"I'm Lakota, sir.
Wow! What a surprise. (not)
My home is Pine Ridge."
Jeff nodded. That also made sense. In moments of
desperation, he'd known others who considered the safety of home
the only option.
Well, yeah, it is obvious. A little too obvious for the reader. I don't
think it's necessary for him to broadcast this thought to us.
of his head and grimaced at his oversight.
"From there, it was a four hundred mile running battle with
Fighter Pods, old Falcon jets, and even a pair of, I think,
Migs."
"What were Migs doing over Arkansas?"
"Shooting at me, sir," Missy replied.
Their missiles would do MDC damage, so they could bring her down if she was
damaged enough (guess whose played Palladium's Robotech RPG at one point in
his life. ^_^)
was pretty busy ducking, if you know what I mean."
Jeff did. He'd been there many times himself. However, the
news that the latest version of the venerable mainstay of the
EBSIS and its precursors was operating in the Arkansas
Protectorate was a sobering thought. One he better
he had better
check out
before the squadron is
was
"Lost her, eh?"
"Very expensive lawn dart, sir."
Heh
Jeff almost chuckled at the age-old reference to the end
result of an ejection. He knew how hard it was to abandon a
craft that had saved your life. He'd done it himself. Luckily
he never saw any of his actually crash.
Ah, Rick Hunter syndrome. Nothing like having multiple fighter shot out
from under you. :)
That probably would have
been too much.
"Anyway, I hitched a ride part of the way and hoofed the
rest." Missy seemed to relax at the end of her story.
"That still doesn't explain how you got here?"
here."
"I'll see what I can do. You get your butt off base before
someone notices you. I'll contact you at the mission tomorrow,"
he said standing up.
Hmm. This might come back to bite him in the ass.
"Ginnie!," came an excited voice from the entrance.
Virginia stiffened before sagging into her seat.
"Who's that?" Samantha asked, leaning forward so as to not
be heard outside their group.
"My roommate," Virginia said apologetically. "The nerd."
Their excited visiter bounded up to the table like an
excited puppy.
two 'excited's close together. I'd recommend dropping the first.
Katherine nodded politely. "Well, thank you for all your
work. Of course, the Colonel hooked up our computers before any
of us even arrived."
"Ah, that explains it."
Yeah, it would.
Gloria absently reached for Daisy's
plate only to quickly snatch back her hand when the bigger woman
growled. Wrong plate.
Ah, so she does have some survival instincts.
"All he's supposed to do is recruit a squadron. Someone
else is taking over before the end of the month." She hungrily
examined Katherine's plate. "You gonna eat that?" she asked
pointing to the other half of Katherine's sandwich.
Not anymore. :)
Samantha was only slightly less angry but she could still
see the warning signs in her sister. "I'd think this over," she
warned. "Don't go do something stupid now. It's not his fault
we weren't told. Remember, Aunt Kay was the one who told us
about the squadron."
"She didn't tell us everything," Katherine answered,
standing up. "She probably didn't know everything."
Besides, he didn't really want her there initially anyway.
Gloria scooted closer and leaned over the table, her eyes
shifting between her three remaining lunch companions. "Did you
know Colonel Stuart had a twin sister?"
Ah, here we go. Getting interesting.
Samantha looked to Daisy and Virginia. Daisy looked like
someone ready for revenge. Virginia kept glancing at her rapidly
disappearing drink. "So that's why he's reluctant to take women
in his squadron," she said.
"There's another reason he's not taking the squadron,"
Gloria added before stifling a tiny belch. "It's headed for the
same base where she died."
Well that explains a lot of his motives so far as well.
Jeff tilted back in his office chair, his feet resting on
the window sill. With the visit of Lt. Robins, he gave up going
to lunch. There was simply too much to think about.
To begin with, he was racking up an impressive score of
women pilots. While such numbers should have made him happy, the
fact they were female gnawed at him. Only the fact they were
Lakota women gave him any comfort. He knew how capable they were
>from his wife.
As opposed to how incapable other women are? :)
"Is there something I can do for you, Captain?" he asked
after a cursory glance her way. She certainly didn't look happy.
"Request permission to speak freely, sir," she growled.
Jeff dropped his pen and eyed his XO. "Within reason."
"At what point were you going to tell us the truth, sir."
"Fine," Jeff finally said. "I'm gay." It felt as though a great weight had
been taken off his shoulders. Odd how Katherine had seemed to facefault
though.
"I hear you're doing a bang-up job over there."
Jeff glanced over his shoulder at the still angry pilots in
his office. "I'm glad you think so, sir."
"The reason I called is I have good news for you."
"I could use some right now."
"I've found a commander to replace you."
Heh. Worst possible time, though I have a feeling the guy's going to be a
putz which means Jeff's in for the duration.
Jeff sat speechless for a few moments. Here was the break
he'd prayed for and it's
its
"True, but the doctors assure me he's feeling much better
now. And don't call it a 'nut house'. That's insensitive to the
loonies they've got locked inside."
Why do I have a feeling Emerson is actually setting him up by picking
someone he knows Jeff's not going to stand aside for.
"Nope. No one is scheduled to rotate, there's no one ready
for promotion, and there's no one awaiting assignment. Summers
is it." There was a pregnant pause before Rolf added: "Unless
you can think of someone else."
Heh.
"There's got to be someone else," Jeff gasped.
"Oh, you can do better than that."
Thought so.
"You set me up," he growled. This must have been Rolf's
plan all along. Or maybe the General just figured getting him
involved with a squadron and letting nature take its course.
Either way, he felt screwed.
That's because he has been.
destroyed Veritechs with their dead or wounded pilots still
inside to hide behind. Tell them about the young ones who looked
up to me, hoping I'd see they got home alive. Tell them about
having to face their mothers, their wives, their children and
explain how their loved ones died so Rolf Emerson could become a
hero. Go on. Tell them everything. See how that fits with my
'reputation'. Maybe you'll go back to your safe jobs and live
long enough to tell your grandchildren your own stories."
Got a wee bit of hostility built up there, he does.
Very nice work. Things are moving along as he picks up three more
personnel.
D.B. Sommer