Chapter 19
Death Dealers Command Center, White Sands RDC
General Carol Davenport and Prince James Nakatoma were the only ones in the TOC as they waited for President Elect D.G. Burnet and the eight members his Cabinet. The diplomatic flight had landed over two hours ago. For whatever reason the New Texas delegation were playing games. Political games that Carol Davenport and James Nakatoma were well versed in. They also knew that this President Burnet was not the dully elected President but a puppet mouth piece for the Amazons. The man was a true collaborator of the first order.

“Permission to speak freely your Highness?” Carol asked of James.

“Granted General on one condition. When it’s just us there are no ranks or titles. It’s just James. Understood?” It was not Lieutenant Colonel Nakatoma talking with a superior officer but Crown Prince James Nakatoma.

“James why do I have the feeling that we’re getting played here?” Carol asked bluntly. “We both know that delegation is a sham. So, why are we even entertaining this happy horseshit political asinine scheme?”

“We don’t have a choice, Carol. They are supposedly the actual New Texas Government representatives. Unless we hear them out the Amazons can go to the Empyreal Parliament saying we have broken the Accords.” James sighed then looked over at the door. “When they come in let them be the first to talk.”

“James, why do I have the feeling that you’ve learned this trick from your mothers?”

“Let’s just say that I spent more than a few hours watching them have fun with self-important jackasses over the years.” James chuckled as he remembered the times when he watched his mother Maiha tear apart some political suit monkey in the throne room aboard Ryuk. “Only this is going to be more like an Alturian Standoff. Whoever blinks first is the loser. A dead loser.”

“I take it that you don’t plan for the delegation to leave here alive?”

“That all depends on how they act and react, Carol. I fully expect for them to demand our immediate evac from New Texas. You and I, both know the truth behind this delegation. Hell, for the last ten days we’ve been dealing with that ass hat of a Planetary Governor Ferguson. Whoever this President D.G. Burnet is has to be a mouth piece for the River Sluts.” James let his anger over having to sit down and talk with the New Texas Delegation. “Just remember when they come in, get a hard lock on them with your antipersonnel lasers and hold it. They blink we cut them in half. They order us off the planet they die. Understood General?”

“By your command, my Prince.” Carol Davenport knew that she technically out ranked James, but in this politically charged situation she bowed to his judgement. Carol may have had to play political games in the past, but she had nowhere near the experience of the Crown Prince. She knew that James had grown up in the very highest halls of power playing at the knees of the Empress while she held Court. If he wanted the New Texas Delegation dead. Then Carol Davenport would kill them without a second thought. Not because it was a royal command, but that James Nakatoma had earned her respect as first as an officer, second as a Death Dealer.

“Thank you for having my back, Carol.” Was all that James could say. Their conversation was brought to a halt by the arrival of the New Texas Delegation. In a voice barely above a whisper. “It’s show time.”

Carol and James remained sitting as the delegation filed into the room. The first of which came the supposed Secretary of State and the rest of the Presidential Cabinet. The last member of the delegation to enter was D.G. Burnet. Only he was not the last to enter. The sight of the five-foot silver haired beauty just behind him brought a slight sigh of relief from James. He knew that Terresa had been pulling the escort missions for the deep strike teams. He also knew that she was pushing the ragged edge physically and mentally.

When neither James or Carol stood up for the delegation they became upset. Their Secretary of State spoke up first. “We see that the Empire has no respect for the true leaders of New Texas. I believe we should leave.”

The sound of an automatic pistol slide drew their attention behind them. Terresa stood there with her Tactical 45 in her hand with the hammer cocked. The faint smile that played at her mouth never reached her eyes. “The first one of you fudge packers moves towards that door I’ll blow your head off. I did not spend the last six and a half hours flying top cover for your asses for nothing. Now, sit the frack down or die. The choice is yours.”

“You dare to point a weapon at the elected President of New Texas. I’ll have you.” Before the Secretary of State could finish the threat Terresa pulled the trigger. The bullet slammed into the ceiling over the man’s head. No one from the delegation expected her sudden act of controlled violence. Only James and Carol expected Terresa Coles’ reaction to the threat made by the Secretary. James knew the moment that Terresa pulled her sidearm she was passed the point of being pissed off.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I would suggest that you all follow the Flight Lieutenant’s orders. She gets rather testy when she has been awake and flying for more than twelve hours at a time. I believe the last time someone pissed her off, after an extra long flight, she rearranged their major joints.” Carol was smiling as she spoke to the delegation in a tone that was too sweet for social politeness.

“You’re just going to sit there and let this upstart Claymore slag speak to us in such a manor?” Demanded Burnet of Carol.

“Not only am I going to let the young lady talk to you in such a manor, Burnet. If you don’t follow her instructs I’m going to give her a royal order to end these discussions before they even begin.” James snarled.

“General if you cannot control your junior officers then we’ll have to take measures to control them for you.” The next member of the Cabinet ordered.

“Let’s get things straight here people.” Carol said from where she sat. “To my left is Crown Prince James Nakatoma. The young lady behind you is Flight Lieutenant First Class Terresa Cole. Both of whom have more have earned my respect. You on the other hand don’t have a leg to stand. Now. Sit! The! Frack! Down!”

The members of the New Texas delegation took the none too subtle hint and sat down at the table. The fact that none of them were armed just drove them to truly understand how precarious their situation was. When the four members of James lance walked in behind Terresa they all now knew for certain that they were in a room full of Death Dealers. Death Dealers that would not think twice about killing them all. The Wild Cards arranged themselves to cover the delegation in such a way that no one was left without a target.

Burnet gave Carol a harsh look. “There is no need for the other Death Dealers, General Davenport. We can hash out this problem without their input. Send them away and we’ll be about our business.”

“See, that is where we disagree, Mister Burnet. Before you go spouting off that your title is President I’ve double checked the New Texas Constitution. Your position is the President of Congress. Not the President or Governor of New Texas. In short you don’t really have a say in what happens on this planet. Nor can you overrule your Governor Ferguson or his Lieutenant Governor. They want us here.” Carol davenport answered back hotly.

“That is where you’re wrong, General.” Burnet told her. “Seeing as how Governor Ferguson and Lieutenant Governor Hues have vacated their posts. I do have the right to represent the people of New Texas.”

That was all James needed to hear. “It seems that we have already reached an impasse General Davenport. I believe that I can offer a solution.”

“You do not have anything to offer, Major Nakatoma.” Burnet snapped.

“That is where you’re wrong butthead.” Terresa called out from where she stood. “By the way HIS title is Crown Prince James Nakatoma. Don’t forget it.”

“If that… Thing opens its mouth again I will personally close it for good.” One of the Cabinet members sneered.

The bullet that torn through the man’s hand and the crack of Terresa’s pistol were almost simultaneous. No one in the room saw her draw her pistol or drop the safety. Even as she returned her sidearm to the holster Terresa let the smile play at her lips. “That was a warning. The next time one of you jackasses insults me they’ll die just as fast. Only the next time I will do it barehanded.”

“You can take that to the damned bank gentlemen. You’ve seen what she can do on her own with an aerospace fighter. You don’t want to see what she can do when she’s pissed off and ready to kill.” Chuckled Heather Pike on the other side of the room.

“Our little Silver Eyed Witch is death on the wing and with her bare fracking hands. You sorry excuses for human beings won’t stand a chance in hell against her.” The voice of Steven Light Horse held a fine note of mischief as he gave warning to the New Texas Delegation. “I’ll give twenty to one odds on Terresa breaking the next asshole’s neck in three places. Any takers?”

“Steven will you behave. The Prince is trying to conduct negotiations here with the kind folks from New Texas.” Joseph Silver Leaf quickly put an end to Steven’s antics. He knew that James was trying his best to keep things civil. For now.

“Knock it off all of you.” James ordered his friends. Turning to face the New Texas Delegation he put on his best political smile and graces. “Ladies and gentlemen let me put your position into perspective. As General Davenport pointed out earlier you don’t have a leg to stand on. Your claims as being the legitimate representatives for the New Texas are worthless.”

“We are the duly appointed representatives for the current ruling parties, Nakatoma. Either accept this fact or face certain destruction.” Burnet countered.

James looked across the table at the man and then smiled. “All hail the Collective?”

As one the members of the Delegation stood up, threw their right arms out at a forty-five-degree angle and shouted. “All Hail the Collective!”

The moment the eight members of the delegation had performed the salute they knew that they had outed themselves. The clones slowly looked around the room as the sounds of Pulse Plasma Lasers were deployed. James looked up at the Burnet clone with a sly and very knowing smile.

“Yes, I knew exactly who you are, and who you are not. Personally, I could give a shit less about where you come from. Only you’re not going to claim to be the legal representatives for the people of New Texas.” He leaned back in his chair.

“What tipped you off to our real identities?” Burnet asked never taking his eyes off of Terresa. Of all the gathered Death Dealers, she was the one that worried him the most. She had already shown a willingness to use violence.

“You’re masters should have removed the personal information on all the members of the New Texas government form the net. Let me be clear Burnet. You’re not leaving here. You came here under false pretenses. Those pretenses now place under a death sentence for espionage. Which means that you don’t get to dictate shit around here. In fact, because you’re all CLONES you’re no longer considered POWs, but spies.” James sighed as he looked at the eight members of the false delegation. “However you have come here under a flag of truce. As such all that I or General Davenport can do is return you to your transport and escort you out of the area. Understand something though. If you should attempt to report what you have seen here today.”

James never got to finish the threat as the door to the conference room burst open and a young Corporal rushed into the room going straight to General Davenport. “Ma’am, we have just received reports of seven heavy APS divisions advancing on the base. They’re companied by five light Infantry and two Cavalry divisions.”

“How soon will they reach our outer markers, Corporal?” Davenport demanded as her eyes bored into the clones.

“Five to six hours ma’am.” The Corporal knew that the General wasn’t going to like the next piece of the report. “Ma’am, according to the reports they have three squadrons of air support. Two of the squadrons are the new North American F-86 Sabre jets. The last is comprised of KV-81 Sturmgewehr’s. We will be within strike distance of their air support in four hours, ma’am.”

Terresa’s ears perked up at the news of there being a full squadron of KV-81’s in support of this attack. The Black Witch had to be here this time. And this time that bitch wasn’t getting away. Either Terresa would go down in flames or the Witch would. She just needed to get to her fighter.

Davenport looked over at James who had turned red with rage. “You come here under a flag of truce, yet your masters march on this base with the equivalent of a full army group. I was more than willing to talk peace with you. Your masters have now taken that option away.” James seethed out barely controlling his blood rage.

Burnet gave James a predatory smile. “Oh, I highly doubt that Nakatoma. You just have to surrender your troops to the Supreme Commander and hand over all your military technology. You do this and your life will be spared Prince James.”

The unmistakable threat to the troops of the 82nd Death Dealer Division and to James himself finally pushed the prince over the edge. The flash of his anti-personnel lasers cut the eight men down before they knew what hit them. As the heads of the eight clones rolled across the floor James turned to Davenport. “General, I think it’s time to put an end to this war.”

“I would love to Prince James. Only how do you suggest we do this?” Davenport snapped out sarcastically. She then held up her left hand and started to count off the individual problems they face with her fingers. “First, we are facing a total of fourteen divisions of combat troops. Seven of them being APS divisions. That gives the River Sluts a seven to one advantage in Armored Power Suits. Next, they out number our Cavalry and Infantry by more than six to one. I won’t even go into the simple fact that we have a total of thirty pilots. Of those only twenty are fighter pilots. That means they are outnumbered by twelve to one. So, unless you happen to have eighteen to twenty divisions of heavy armor and AP Suites hidden up your sleeve somewhere. I suggest that we abandon the base and head for the hills.”

“That is something we cannot do General. We need the base. As for facing those incoming divisions the answer is simple. They have only two avenues for a ground-based attack on this base. Both of which we control. We blow the Northeast passage. Cause a landslide cutting off that approach. It will force the River Sluts over the Northwest passage buying us enough time to fortify the valley floor and walls. We turn the whole valley into one massive kill box. As for fighter cover we have the new Death Dealer pilots and an FB-11 Claymore for each one.” James gave Davenport a wiry smile. “That should more than equal out the odds.”

“I hope you’re right Colonel. Because if your plan fails, I’ll haunt your ass and your family’s ass for all eternity.” Davenport snorted. Turning to Terresa. “Flight Lieutenant Cole, do you think you can buy us the time needed to seal the Northeast passage way?”

“Give me six Mark eight Hawk air-to-ground missiles and I’ll close that passage down for you in one pass. Those rockfaces are so unstable from our fly overs at supersonic speeds that they will come down faster than the panties for a two-credit whore on payday outside of the base gates. The only problem is where do you want the landslides. We have seven points which will work for our purposes.” Terresa answered quickly while pulling up a map of the two mountain passages that James and the General were talking about. Pointing to the western passage Terresa smile. “I would like to point out that I can make two bombing runs that will force those divisions to swing clear around to the East before being in position to attack.”

“How is that Lieutenant? What do you know that we don’t?” Davenport asked. She was already liking where the Lieutenant was going with her plan.

“Both passages have been used for Snake training. That’s low-level flight training runs in valleys, canyons, and mountain terrain. The shockwaves of our flights through those passes have really play hell with the rockfaces. From what the Combat Engineers have said they spend somewhere between seven to ten days a month clearing the fallen debris off the roadways and passage floor.” There was a predatory smile gracing Terresa’s face as she delivered the coup de grace. “If we time it right we could very well catch some of their advance recon units in the passes. I figure that we could take out between one to two Calvary units.”

Davenport looked over at James. “Why is she smiling that way? Is that a good thing?”

James and the rest of the Wild Cards started to chuckle. “General, when our dear Flight Lieutenant First class Terresa Cole smiles like that I have only one piece of advice. Run. Run and don’t look back. Because the little lady is about to rain down ten kinds of hell on some poor dumb deserving ignorant son-of-a-bitch.”

“HEY! I’m not that bad!” Terresa protested as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Yes, you are, love.” James replied as he pulled her into a hug. “Now, tell us what you need to pull off this attack. And how long do you think it’ll buy us.”

“Like I said six Mark eight Hawks and a target location. As for how much time the attacks will buy us. I have say anywhere between four to five days. Maybe as much as six. It all depends on if they can reroute their divisions in time to avoid the land slides. Those canyon passage walls are way too steep to climb unless by foot. You can forget about taking an APS, tank, IFV, or even a FASTV those passages if there is a significant landside event. Hell, the only way you get anything through them now is because we keep the roadway clear.” Terresa answered.

James looked over at Davenport then gave Terresa a smile. “Take care of arming your fighter Lieutenant. And this time take a wingman with you. That is an order, Lieutenant. There are more than enough pilots on this base now. Not to mention fighters to provide you with a wingman.”

Terresa didn’t like where this conversation was going. “I can handle this mission on my own, sir. I don’t NEED a wingman. Besides none of those new pilots have been checked out on the FB-11 Claymore yet.” Terresa knew that she had them with that. There was no way that Davenport would endanger pilots needlessly by sending them out in unfamiliar fighters.

“Lieutenant, there are twenty men and women that can handle that bird. So, pick a fracking damned wingman.” Davenport ordered her. Then she smiled at Terresa. “Relax Lieutenant. It’s not like you’re getting married or anything.”

White Sands flight line.
I couldn’t believe what General Davenport had ordered. For the past week I’ve been perfectly happy flying missions all on my own. I had no need for a damned wingman. So, why was she sticking me with one now. It made no sense in my book. But I followed orders. I spend the entire walk over to the flight line going over the records of the seven so called test pilots. I wasn’t surprised to see Colonel McQueen or Captain Anderson on the list. The other five though were a surprise. All of them were members of the 127th and had extensive test pilot training.

I know that I could have Colonel McQueen as my wingman. General Davenport said she would approve the request, but it didn’t feel right to me. Then there was Captain Anderson. I won’t mind have her as my wingman, but she is already spoken for, and I don’t plan on breaking that pairing up. It’s just bad mojo to something like that. Of the remaining five all were Flight Lieutenants Second Class. The fact that they were all trained test pilots made my choice all that harder. I know that I need a wingman, because sooner or later my luck will run out, but why now. I mean I can get the mission completed on my own.

As I walk around the bunker for my Claymore I am brought up short. McQueen and all the pilots of the 127th are standing there waiting for me. What is surprising is the only elf in the group is standing in front of them all. I begin to wonder what is up when she steps in front of me holding out her hand.

“Lieutenant Cole it seems that I drew the short straw. The name’s Kasey Stone. I’m your new wingman. Glad to meet ya.” I just took her hand and sighed.

“Nice to meet you as well, Lieutenant Stone. Only you’re not on the approved list of pilots for my wingman. Let me explain why.” Turning to the rest of the 127th I raise my voice. “Unless you’re test pilot qualified or have Recon pilot training you will not be flying the Claymores. That is not up to me. You got a beef about the qualifications take it up with the Division Commander. Not me.”

“Wrong, Lieutenant Cole.” McQueen snapped. “You fly with who I tell you to fly with. Got that? Now, gives us a familiarization class on the Claymore.”

I gave McQueen a harsh look then turned to where Chief Daily was standing with his arms crossed shaking his head. I decided to ignore the Colonel and his ignorance. “Chief! Full ground attack loadout on the Witch. No air-to-air. We got a mission, and no time for bullshit. Snap to it boys.”

“Lieutenant I gave you an order.” McQueen tried to push.

“And I heard it and decided to ignore it, Colonel. You may think you’re in charge around here but you ain’t. Now frack off jarhead.” With that I turned back to Chief Daily. “Chief let’s get the Witch ready for war.”

“Sorry, LT, but until you pick a wingman I got orders to ground you and the Witch.” The look in his eyes let me know that he didn’t like the orders but would follow them. No matter how much they pissed him off.

“Who gave you those orders Chief?” I growled out.

“General Davenport, ma’am.” The look in his eyes was enough to let me know that the orders were legit. I was now between a rock and a hard place.

“Fine. I’ll pick a wingman.” I turned around and saw a smug look on McQueens face. He just knew that he was going to tell who I could and couldn’t fly with. Well he was in for a rude awaking. “Soto, you up for a fast class on the Claymore?”

“You will be giving us all a class on the Claymore Lieutenant. And your wingman is going to be Lieutenant Stone as I have already stated.” McQueen ordered me with a smug look. It was that look that pissed me off even more.

“Chief Daily, if this jarhead opens his fracking mouth one more time on my flight line you are cleared to shoot his ass.” I got right up in McQueen’s face. “Let me be extremely clear here Colonel. I got a fracking mission to run. I don’t have time to deal with political bullshit. I don’t trust you or your pilots. I only trust the men and women of the six-hundred and twenty-eighth Squadron to cover my ass. They have earned that respect. You and your Johnny-come lately frack nuts haven’t. The only reason I am even taking one of your people as a wingman is because of orders. If your pilot can’t keep up with me in the air, I’m leaving his ass to swing. I will hit my target and not give one shit about your pilot. Got It?!”

I know that I was pushing it with McQueen. But I just didn’t have time to deal with the bullshit. I figured if I put all my cards on the table he would back down. The smile that came to his face surprised me. “Fair enough Lieutenant Cole. Seeing as how that is how you’re going to play this. I’ll be your wingman. If you’re going to leave one of my people to swing so you can complete the mission it will be me. And we’ll take Anderson and Stone as top cover.”

I had hoped McQueen would take the bait. This up coming mission was going to be crazy enough as is for an experienced pilot. I didn’t need a still wet behind the ears kid as my wingman trying to collapse those canyon walls while flying right down their center. “This way Colonel. I’ll introduce you and your people to the meanest piece of fly death and destruction to date.”

As we headed over to the next Claymore in line. I called out to Chief Daily. “Chief get the birds prepped for a ground attack. Minimum air-to-air. We’re going to need every bomb we can pack to get the job done.”

“I hear you LT. Just play nice with the jarheads and leave the loadouts to me and my crews.” He called out to me then turned around and started barking orders. “Johnson, Grady, Holmes, Stansfield. Get birds one through four prepped and ready to fly. I want six, Mark eight Hawks on the Witch and bird two. Give me a mix of nine Maverick ATA missiles, nine Sidewinder Rattlesnake ATA missiles, for the rest of the loadout. Full air-to-air of twelve Mavericks and twelve Sidewinder Rattlesnakes, on birds three and four. Full autocannon loadout of HE Slammer rounds for all of them. Pack them in tight people. Short chain the rounds.”

I just shook my head at the why Chief Daily began prepping the Claymores for the up coming mission. We didn’t have a lot of time to plan the operation. Yet he knew just by hearing my orders what to give me to get the job done. The man was a true genius when comes to aircraft and what they could do. I don’t know what I’ll ever do if he has to be replaced. Right now, though I had a class to give on the FB-11.

Over the next two hours I went over every inch of the FB-11’s with McQueen and his pilots. They were to say the least impressed with the fighter’s capabilities. I told them that the FB-11 could perform combat maneuvers at Mach 6.8 with a top speed of Mach 8.5 in level flight. When they heard this their mouths fell open in disbelief. Before I went over the weapons I could already tell that they were getting the itch. They wanted to be behind the controls so bad they could taste it.

Colonel McQueen asked what armament the FB-11 Claymore carried. I informed him that each Claymore carried a standard loadout of 9 Maverick ATA missiles, 9 Sidewinder Rattlesnake ATA missiles, and 6 Mark eight Hawk ATG missiles. I went on to point out the number PPC’s and PPL’s they were more than a little surprised. They were not expecting to be faced with 20 Pulse Plasma Lasers. With 10 in the nose and 5 in each winglet or the 8 PPCs with 4 in the nose and 2 in each winglet.

I saved the best for last the massive 120mm autocannon. I explained about the high rate of fire and the punch of the massive weapon. They all really like the autocannon. Then I gave them the bad news. When they heard they had to keep a sharp eye on the ammo count you could have heard pin down. They really didn’t like the fact that even with the short chain link system they only had 160 rounds of caseless ammo. I finally gave the shitty news. They really didn’t like the fact that they would have to rely on their bio-AIs to handle flight control. Nor did they like the fact that the onboard AI was so stupid. Most of them felt that it was better to have an AI that was powerful enough to handle the normal operations of the fighter. That was when I explain the reason behind the underpowered AI.

Most of the Marine pilots had no clue as to what Hyper Hysteria Savant Syndrome was. Let alone what it meant to have H.H.S.S. as a pilot. When I explained how H.H.S.S. enhanced reflexes, hand-eye coordination, the ability to multitask, track more than two or three targets at a time, in short everything H.H.S.S. gave them, they quit bitching about the on board underpowered AI. They were a little surprised when I explained that their Bio-AIs would have to handle the normal flight operations. Other than those few minor details to the last one, they all fell in love with the FB-11 Claymore. Only one of them wasn’t too happy with having to rely on their Bio-AI instead of a hard-mounted AI in the aircraft. Not that I gave a shit. They weren’t my wingman, and if the bitch got in my way I would just shoot her down. I just might do it anyway just for shits and grins.

After the hour-long class, I turned away and walked back to my own aircraft. “Chief Daily, the Witch ready to fly?”

“All set LT. You got a full loadout. Same rules apply as normal. Remember to stay light on the trigger for the AC. When you pop those Mark eights in the canyon make sure that that you drop them with a retarded fuse. You’ll want as much penetration into those rockfaces as you can get. After that hit the burners and get the frack out of there as fast as the Witch will carry you.”

“Got it Chief. By the way. What has you itchy about the Mark eights and using them in those canyons?” I really wanted to know what had Daily on edge about the canyons and those air-to-ground missiles.

“Look, LT, I know that you’re used to trusting the ordnance guys blindly, but the Mark eights have never been used in the manner that you are today. Those missiles are designed for targeting bunkers, tanks, APSs, IFVs, and artillery units. Shit that is above ground. Not underground crevices’, caves, and other none military targets like those rockfaces.” Chief Daily laid out the problem for me clear and simple, then went for the kill. “I just don’t know how they’ll react, LT.”

“Understood Chief. You do know that I pulled something like this before. Those Hawks will get the job done. I just have to make sure that I target the right spots in the canyons. Has the brass sent over the topical maps that I requested yet?”

“They got here about twenty minutes ago LT. What I want to know is why are you using maps? You have a state of the art GPS on board the Witch.”

“Yah, but the GPS doesn’t give me a picture of the rockfaces. If I’m going to make this strike work I need to know exactly where to put those Mark eights to do the most damage. Now where are the maps?” I explained to Daily.

He led me over to a table that he had set up at the back of my bunker. McQueen had overheard my talk with Chief Daily and joined us at the table. Between the three of us we went over the maps for both canyon passages. By the time we got done we found only three points between both canyons that could first close the passes and can be done with Mark eights. There were six others points but we would need heavy bombers to deliver the needed bombs. To hit those six points and make our plan work we would need T-nine Tallboys or Mark nine Thunder hawks. The real kick in the ass was that each target would require the full loadout of Mark eight Hawks for both of our Claymores to get the job done.

I turned to Colonel McQueen giving the man a sly smile. “Well, Colonel, ready to dance with the Devil in the pale blue dress?”

McQueen just chuckled. “I don’t doubt that you would look quiet fetching in a nice pale blue cocktail dress Lieutenant. However, I don’t think it would be fitting for combat. I suggest that we each fire three missiles at our two targets areas. This way we make sure of our hits.”

I thought about what McQueen was suggesting. It made sense and doubled our chances of success. “How good are Anderson and Stone at Nap of the Earth?”

“Considering they’re crop duster pilots in their civilian lives. Better than most. Not that it matters with my Marines. They’re all crop dust pilots in their civilian lives with the exceptions of me and Harts. What do you have in mind?” McQueen asked.

“Shit! A full squadron of crop duster pilots. I didn’t realize there were that many farms on New Texas to need more than ten pilots total.” I didn’t mean for it to sound condescending but that’s the way it came out.

McQueen and his pilots started to chuckle. “Lieutenant Cole, you really got to understand just how much of our planets economy revolves around agriculture. Less than ten percent of what we produce is mineral or manufacture based export. The rest is all agriculture in one form or the other. From field crops to feed animals. That means we have more acreage under plow than just about any other planet in the New Confederate System. To be blunt Lieutenant we’re a food factory for the Empire.”

“So, you need more crop duster pilots than would be normal for a planet. Just how many pilots out there are like those in your squadron?”

“Close to two thousand maybe more. Not really sure Lieutenant. There are about twenty-two-thousand small bush airports all over this planet. You can pretty much bet that there is a crop duster in residence. Most of those pilots know how to snake a canyon and do so for the fun of it. Usually taking pot shots at rogue bucks on the canyon walls. The ones down on the coast lines usually pop the tree lines and beaches going after tango whales and ghillie ells. In the plains area those crazies like to buzz the cattle herds during roundup times. So, running nap of the earth is pretty much a job requirement for the crop dusters on New Texas. That and being slightly crazy in the bargain.” McQueen told me and smiled.

“If that’s the case then we go with your suggestion.” I turned to the other two pilots. “Okay people let’s mount up and get airborne.”

Over the Northeastern passage.
I eased into a tight holding pattern as McQueen, Anderson, and Stone pulled up on my wing tip. McQueen and I had decided to make one run on each canyon pass targeting the same areas. I would go first. Then McQueen would make his run. While we were down in the passes Anderson and Stone would keep their eyes pealed for enemy fighters. I just prayed that neither McQueen or I got jumped while in the canyons. This mission was harrying enough as it was without unwelcome guests making the attack runs a shooting gallery.
“You know something Lilly. I really do wish that I had kept my mouth shut.”

“Oh please, Terresa. You and I both know that is a line of bullshit. You love this kind of mission. What was it you said the other day? WETSU or something like that?”

“Yah, WETSU is what I said. It means We Eat This Shit Up.” I took one more look at my air defense radar. “Any sign of unwelcome guests?”

“None. I know that you’re worried Terresa, but we’re here and time is running out.”

“I know that Lilly.” I took the time and plotted my attack run for the fifth time and sighed. “Well, no time like the present. Give me the ground attack radar, Lilly. Plot our target on the readout and mark it in red.”

While Lilly was taking care of my last few remaining preparations for the attack I contacted McQueen. “Banshee, this is Scorpion. Over”

“Banshee here Scorpion. Over”

“Starting my attack run now, Banshee. Over”

“Copy that Scorpion. Keep your head on a swivel. See you when you get back. Over”

“Copy that Banshee. Scorpion Out. Tally Oh!” I nosed over and dove for the hard deck. I knew that I would have to enter the passage from the mouth and run the length of the canyon until I reached the target. I just didn’t realize just how tight the canyon really was down near the road bed. I had about two-hundred feet to play with the whole length of the canyon, at most. As I approached my first target zone the canyon narrowed down to a little over one-hundred feet. Barely enough for the roadbed to pass through the canyon.

I waited until my targeting sight turned from green to red then fired the first of my Mark six Hawks into the eastern rockface. I push the throttles to the stops and shot pass the target area before the missile exploded. I keep the throttles wide open as I weaved my way through the canyon to the next two targeting points. Just before reaching them I dropped my speed enough to get a hard lock before firing. As I cleared the last target zone McQueen called out that he was starting his own attack run. I quickly climbed and rolled over to observe his attack. I knew that I was good but McQueen was on a whole another level. He flew into the canyon at top speed and never slowed down. The man placed each missile right where it needed to be placed. His attack run was a textbook example of how to snake a canyon.

By the end of his attack run the Northeastern passage was closed for the foreseeable future. The landslides had filled the roadbed with enough rock and earth in three spots that it will take the Corps of Engineers months to clear them. The only down part was the lack of enemy troops in the canyon passage. “Well maybe we’ll get luck with the Northwestern passage.”

“I hate to break it to you Terresa, but I doubt it. The nearest Amazon unit is more than three hours away.”

“Lilly, my love, there is an old saying, a very old saying.” I was already lining up to make my run on the Northwestern passage as that saying ran through my mind. “No matter what happens the enemy will always do the unexpected.”

Almost as to prove my point six blips suddenly appeared on my air defense radar. To underscore the sinking feeling in my gut Anderson called out over the radio. “Bandits twelve o’clock at three hundred knots and closing! Scorpion, Banshee make your runs now! Over”

I keyed my mike and pushed the throttles to the stops. “Copy that Rimshot. Good hunting and save a few for us. Over”

“We’ll try Scorpion, but don’t count on it. Rimshot out” with that Anderson dropped off the radio and headed for the enemy fighters. Leaving me and McQueen to make our bomb runs without top cover. Not that it mattered. They had their job which was to handle enemy fighters. We had ours which was to close the passes.

I dove for the deck and the mouth of canyon with McQueen hot on my tail. I could tell that he wasn’t going to wait this time, but follow in right behind me. “We’re only going to get one shot at this Banshee. If we don’t get clear in time it’s been an honor flying with you. Over”

“Same here, Scorpion. Keep your spacing and mark your targets. I’ll drop my Hawks right behind yours. Over”

“Copy that, Banshee. Tally ho!” With that I shot into the mouth of the canyon at just over Mach five-point-five. I wasn’t about to slow down. I just had to be luckier than I ever have been on this run. Unlike the Northeastern passage this one was only as wide as the roadbed from start to finish. The walls are sheer cliff faces of basalt granite with outcroppings the whole length at irregular intervals. In short this was one bombing run that would truly test my skills as a pilot.

I smiled for the first time during this mission as I rounded the first bend and lined up on my target. I could hear the scream of my engines echoing off the canyon walls. I could feel the crosswinds buffeting the main fuselage trying to force me into the canyon walls. I fight my way through natures defenses of the canyon until I have a hard lock on the first target. I wait until my crosshairs turn red and fire. I feel the Hawk drop away and speed towards the target even as I speed past banking hard to make the next turn. The faster I fly through the canyon the more the world seems to fall away. I become lost to the rush of fly between the hard-unforgiving walls of the canyon that are certain death and the freedom of the life-giving air around me. With ever more speed I race towards my next target not thinking about whether or not McQueen is still behind me.

I can no longer tell the deference between my sonic booms and the explosion of missiles in the confines of the narrow canyon. To tell the truth I don’t really care. I have become so lost to the excitement of racing death in this narrow corridor I do not care. I just want to push myself further and faster than ever before. This is where the pilots will be found this day. Not up in the clouds but down amongst the earthly confines of this narrow canyon passage. I spot my second target and fire even as my crosshairs turn red signaling a hard lock. I barely feel the Hawk drop away from my Claymore as I rush pass the targeted rockface. I pull hard on the stick and bank once more to make the next turn.

One more target rockface to go. I know that I can make it without slowing down. The rest of the canyon is a straight shot out onto the plans on the other side of the mountain rages that surround the northern half of the White Sands area. Once there all I have to do is climb for the skies and I’ll be home free. This thought depresses me slightly as I know that my job for the day will be done. I will have no more targets to engage. I put those thoughts out of my head. I see my last target rockface less than a half mile ahead. I wait for my crosshairs to turn red then drop my final Hawk and pull up out of the canyon.

“TERRESA! BANDIT AT SIX OCLOCK! WAKE UP GIRL! WE GOT COMPANY!” Lilly’s scream pulls me out of my dream of undeniable freedom. I looked hard to my rear. And there it is, my worst nightmare and greatest desire. The solid black KV-81 Sturmgewehr. The Black Witch in on my ass and she is out for blood.

“Oh shit! Lilly, is that who I think it is?”

“Well it sure as frack isn’t Santa Claus! Move girl or we’re both dead.”

-----tbc-----