RATING: NC17 for language (they say f**k a lot, again ;>)

My thanks to Mike Lee, Amelia Chidi-Ofong, Sheryl Clay and Amy Berg for reading this through and giving me invaluable advice.



Part Two

"How's it coming, Major?" Sanderson leaned over her shoulder as she taped the final explosive pack to the generator's side.

"A couple of minutes to check the wiring, sir. Chan's checking the blast doors." Attica stood up and looked over to where Chan stood next to Metcalf who was guarding that entrance. In the other corner of the room Fahid crouched, ready, in case more Chigs made it through the doors they hoped they'd locked shut.

"Let me know when we can move out."

She nodded, turning back to her work as Sanderson walked back to the open entrance. Johnston was there, staring back up the corridor, to his left Fahid watched the other door. She moved aside when Chan came up and ran her monitor over the door.

From up the passageway Sanderson could hear the distant sound of gunfire. He could only hope that the Chigs hadn't been able to call for reinforcements.


Paul was starting to see things. He'd been staring down the narrow corridor for a while now. Nothing had moved. The only sign that there was anybody out there was the faint sound of shots being fired in the compound. The fighting seemed to have lessened in the last ten minutes. He hoped that was a good sign. He flexed his hand, stiff from holding his finger on the trigger of his rifle.

Suddenly someone appeared at the other end. His hand tensed. He only just managed to stop himself shooting when he realised it was Sanderson signalling them to follow him.

"OK, let's go." McQueen brought up the rear as they headed back. At the end of the corridor they found Salam and Hardy still in position. Sanderson came over to McQueen and talked quietly for a while before ordering them up the passageway.

Everyone but McQueen and Hawkes headed for the entrance as they settled in to cover the corridor. Hawkes noticed that Zygramski was the only one absent.

At the end of the passageway Torres and Donovan still lay inside the doorway, firing off to their left. When Torres noticed Sanderson she crawled back to his position.

"The Chigs are well dug in over there, sir. The 21st are pinned down and the rest of my squad are trying to move to flank the enemy while we give cover. It's tough through. They're in bunkers that didn't show up on the intel reports."

"Hell. Any sign of reinforcements?"

"No, sir."

"Well that's something. We're about to blow this place." He turned to Johnston. "Get ready to send the signal to the Saratoga as soon as we do."

"Can we stay here when it goes up?" Torres looked down the passage towards the source of her concern.

Sanderson nodded. One thing he knew about Zygramski was that she knew how to blow things up. Hell, he could still picture the mess she'd made of the mine on Kasbek. And not just the mine. Safely in orbit, he had watched as half a mountain crumbled into dust. He didn't think he'd ever see anything like that again, and since that was supposed to be the only source of Sewell fuel, he suspected he was right.

"We'll, need to get those Chigs out of the bunkers. It's possible they lead back underground. Are there any others out there?"

"A group broke north for the road when they realised their communications were out, but the 142nd stopped them. I haven't seen any more."

"And where are your people?"

"Come take a look, sir." Torres crawled back to the entrance, followed by Sanderson.

From there he could see the problem. Above them, to the left, were a series of low bunkers cut into the bedrock. In each wall were narrow slits from which the Chigs were firing on the 21st, pinned down behind three enemy vehicles, and on Donovan as he fired from the entranceway. The rest of the 53rd had managed to work their way to a position above them. He could hear them firing from there, unable to get any closer. There was no way for any of them to leave the area without being in the open, unprotected from the Chig snipers. That left the only way out back the way they'd just come, through the one door they'd not jammed shut. Sanderson got up quickly and headed back. There was no point taking them all. If this worked, four could pull it off as easily as a whole squadron.


Further down the corridor Hawkes and McQueen waited. After a few moments Zygramski appeared and came to crouch next to them.

"Sanderson said to wait."

Attica frowned. The longer those things sat there, the longer the Chigs had to get in and dismantle them. "How long?"

"Until he knows our exit's clear."

Attica inclined her head slightly. "We'll that sounds fair enough. What're you guys doin' here?"

"Looking out for you."

"Oh, how nice. A little tank convention."

McQueen noticed a familiar look on her face, part anticipation, part excitement and part nerves. She just couldn't wait to blow this place sky-high. Of course, when he thought about it, that was hardly surprising. Attica had been trained from day one to blow things up, she was a bomb disposal expert the day he'd met her. There again, 'bomb disposal' was rather a grand term for what the military had in mind, 'bomb detonation' was more precise. Their theory was that if some tank was clearing mines, it didn't really matter if they went up with them, the mines were still gone. Fortunately, Attica had shown an unusual degree of skill from an early age, which was why she'd been the only one of her platoon left alive six months after they left the training facility. Since then she'd been more of a front-line soldier during her time with 42 Commando and later in the Air Cavalry, and there had always been the need for somebody in a unit to know how to blow things up, so she'd kept up with her qualifications.

Up ahead he could hear Sanderson coming back. It looked like Zygramski wouldn't have to wait too long.

"We have a problem. There's no way out back that way, so we're going to have to go back through the generator room and out the other door. That should bring us out behind the bunkers the Chigs are using to keep us pinned down. You haven't done anything stupid like rig the doors, have you Zygramski?"

McQueen noticed Hawkes react slightly to that.

"No, sir." To her credit, Attica kept her tone neutral, which seemed to calm him down.

"Right, let's go.

Having got through the first door, Hawkes found himself standing in a large room containing six metal cylinders. Strapped to the side of each one was a tiny pack of explosives, taped next to the control panels. As Zygramski unlocked the door to his right he wondered how something that small could do anything at all. Then Sanderson motioned him through and they closed the other door behind them.

They proceeded carefully up the corridor, but there was no sign of the enemy. If there had been any, they had left by now to help those out in the compound. Finally they reached the doorway and, once opened, they could see that they had come out where they'd hoped. From here they could get to the bunkers. For once intelligence had been right, there were surprisingly few Chigs at this installation.

"OK, Zygramski. You'd better blow this place."

She unconsciously broke into a smile as she took the remote detonator from her pack. Flipping it open she checked the controls once more. Out of habit, rather than necessity, they lay down and covered their heads.

"One, two, five"

"Huh?" Hawkes looked over at her as she pushed the button. Behind him he heard a muffled explosion just before the the ground shook slightly beneath him. The sound echoed for a moment as a thin trail of dust fell from the ceiling, then silence.

"Was that an adrenalin rush, or what?" Attica got up and brushed herself off. McQueen noticed that Hawkes, too, was grinning like an idiot.

"Alright, let's concentrate people."

Hawkes at least had the decency to look chagrined, Attica just smiled to herself as she checked her rifle.

From there they could see the way was clear. The four of them broke cover and headed north again, back to the bunkers at the other door. Coming down a gentle incline of grass and granite they could see the 21st firing towards a point one hundred meters ahead. As they approached they kept low, then stopped. Sanderson signalled Matzkin and Cavoti to cease firing.

Before the Chigs could figure out what they had planned they moved the rest of the way and lay on top of the granite bunkers, each had one window below them. They slipped off the wall and hit the ground below, careful to stay out of the line of fire. On the signal, they each removed the firing pin, stuffed their grenades through the firing slits, and ducked. Two seconds later the ground shook, but with greater force this time, debris flying out of the windows. Hawkes came up spluttering and shoved the muzzle of his rifle into the slit, firing every round he had. When they stopped there was finally silence.

"Alright, let's tear this place apart, I want every Chig dead. Johnston, did you get the Sara' on the radio?" Sanderson barked orders as he strode down towards the doorway.

"Yes, sir. They're on their way."

McQueen followed him down leaving Zygramski and Hawkes to check out the bunkers.

Nothing moved as they entered the first one. Three Chigs lay on the floor, riddled with bullets, surrounded by a haze of dust.

"Woa!" Hawkes squinted into the room. "What a mess!"

Attica smiled at him, relieved they'd finally got them. "You like blowing stuff up then?"

"That was so cool."

"Right, now concentrate."

As they moved into the next bunker she thought about how sad it was that everything would be an anti-climax after Kasbek. Cool, for sure, but not Kasbek.

In the next room they found Salam and Hardy checking bodies so they moved on to the last bunker.

"D'you think I could learn how to blow things up like that?"

Attica sighed slightly as she nudged the last dead Chig with her boot. "Er.....yeah, I suppose so. Just don't tell McQueen it was because of me." She looked back at a puzzled Hawkes. "Oh, who am I kidding? Like he's not going to know."

With that they headed outside just in time to see three ISSCV's landing below. To the north Hawkes noticed the 142nd coming through the compound. From the south, Tellef was leading his team from the communications post they'd destroyed, two of them holding Polanski between them. Out of the transports jumped two Marine platoons. They split up and headed for the various buildings throughout the compound. Some of them headed underground to flush out any Chigs that might be hiding there and, though Hawkes didn t know it, to start dismantelling the device they d recovered.

Over head there was the sudden scream of SCRAM-jets, as the Saratoga s fighter squadrons tore towards the enemy base to the north, followed by heavy bombers.

Trudging down the hill Hawkes suddenly became aware of how tired he was. Climbing into the transport he looked around him. Up front medics were working on Polanski and Murgson. Others seemed more concerned with Lieutenant Sucura from the 53rd. Shot through the chest, he'd lost a lot of blood. Beside them a body lay, covered with a sheet. He didn't know who it was. The rest of the 58th sat, exhausted, beside him as the ISSCV took off. They'd been lucky. It could have been so much worse.


USS SARATOGA
01:45 6/7/64
By the time Zygramski got back to her quarters Torres was already out of the shower and quietly sitting on her bed. As she stripped off her uniform she noticed her room-mate staring at the far wall.

"You alright?"

"Sucura didn't make it."

"Oh.....I'm sorry." She didn't really know what else to say.

Torres shrugged. "Hell, I hardly knew him. He only joined the squadron two weeks ago, fresh out of Flight School." She paused, picking at the sheet on her bunk. "You know, I'm probably feeling worse about the fact that I don't feel anything, than about the fact that he's dead."

"Damn it Carla, if you got cut up every time some young Marine bought it, you'd be a wreck. That's what we do, we go on."

"I know. But somehow that doesn't make me feel any better right now."

"No, I don't suppose it does."

They sat in silence. After a while Attica looked up.

"It looks like Polanski and Murgson'll be OK."

Torres nodded, she knew she would go on, she was just too tired at that moment to see it that way.

"Well, I'm going to get a shower and then I hope I sleep through tomorrow."

Carla watched her go into the bathroom, still thinking about the young man she'd hardly said two words to. Getting into her bunk she thought about how life just plain sucked sometimes. As soon as her head hit the pillow she was asleep.


USS SARATOGA
20:15 6/10/64
After a long day on patrol, Torres keyed the lock and entered her quarters. She needed a shower and then a stiff drink. Hours in a cramped cockpit can do that to a person. It sounded like somebody was in the bathroom so she stowed her gear and then threw herself on her bunk. Just as she was starting to drift off she heard the door open. Attica emerged, a towel around her hips. She stopped, suddenly looking alarmed and urgently called back into the bathroom.

"Shit McQueen, get some clothes on, quick!"

Torres sat bolt upright."What? Ohmygod! I am so sorry, I....." She paused, finally noticing Attica breaking into a broad grin. "You have one twisted sense of humour."

Attica nodded vigorously. "And you are finally starting to catch on." She rubbed her hair while she put a disc in the stereo. "How was your day?"

"Dull. Yours?"

"The same............What?"

"Er, nothing." Torres realised she'd been staring. "Sorry, I just didn't think you'd have one."

Attica looked puzzled. "One what? A scar....I've got plenty of those."

"A belly button."

"Oh" She looked down at her stomach. "Well yes. They were on special offer, so I got two." She tapped the back of her neck. "This one's only a neural feed......and, of course, just one more fashion accessory!"

Carla smiled as Attica blew off another touchy subject. "Say, any idea where we're headed?"

Attica shook her head. She'd been wondering about that herself. All she knew was that at 08:45 the Saratoga had joined the 15th Earth Fleet, a combined US, European and Asian force, and they had immediately changed course. Flying patrol today, even she had been awed at the sight of so many ships. For the moment, though, everything was business as usual, there were no clues as to the urgency of their new directive. McQueen probably had more idea, but she hadn't seen hide nor hair of him for three days. She grabbed a towel and headed for the shower.


That evening Hawkes watched the news, trying to block out the row going on behind him. With the arrival of the Fleet had come the post, and everybody seemed to have something to talk about. Or rather, yell about.

"Hey, Coop." He turned to find Vanessa holding a tin of cookies under his nose. "You want one. They're home made."

"Sure." He helped himself. He unwrapped it carefully, his mouth watering from the memory of the last batch. Vanessa tried not to laugh too hard at the expression of pure delight that appeared on his face when he took his first bite.

"These're incre'ble"

"Coop, you're spitting half of it out!"

"Hey Damphy, look what I got!" She looked over to see Paul clutching something in his hand. Whatever it was she had to see this.

Hawkes watched her walk over to the shrieking Wang, screwed up the old cookie wrapper and turned back to the news. Despite the aftertaste of chocolate he just wasn't in that great of a mood.

"Fuckin' A. My Star Wars discs!" Somebody yelled behind him.

"Oh wow, these are classics!"

He listened to the animated discussion, sulkily wondering what a Darth Vader could be. He wasn't paying much attention to the screen until a reporter mentioned Philadelphia. Something about trouble in the ghettos. Gang violence and increased drug traffic.

"Not much change there then." Attica sat down next to him.

The reporter went on "New measures are being sought to bring the situation under control, including a strictly enforced curfew in affected areas. The administration has also promised an investigation into allegations made by pro-In Vitro rights organisations, that drugs are finding their way on to the streets through government channels. But for the moment there seems to be no let up, either here or in the other cities, world wide, affected by this sudden outbreak of violence. This is Jodie Mendell for Channel 4 News, Philadelphia."

"Home sweet home, hey Coop?" Attica continued to watch as the video switched to a shot of the German Head of State visiting an armourments factory.

"D'you think that might be true?" Hawkes shifted in his seat to face her.

"What?"

"The government supplying drugs."

"Well, it's been done before."

"Why would they do that?"

Attica shrugged. "They're the government, who says they need a reason." Hawkes tried to decipher her expression. The best he could come up with bitter cynicism, but who knew with Zygramski.

"Anyway, the simulator's free tonight. You're off duty tomorrow, right?" Hawkes nodded. "Well, meet me there at 23:00." He frowned. "It'll take me a while to get it set up. OK?"

Hawkes grinned. "Yeah, that'll be great." His mood was taking an upward turn.


"Jesus!" Hawkes stood in the doorway of Simulator Room 2 staring at Zygramski. "What the hell you doin'?"

Attica looked up from inside the cockpit. "Just reconfiguring the controls." She glanced at the parts and wiring on the floor. "Don't worry, it's not as bad as it looks."

"What's that?"

"That is a box. A box that over-rides the operational parameters of one system and runs the Tiger's in its place."

Hawkes nodded slowly.

"You see, 'cause hardly anybody flies them, no ships have a simulator for a Tiger Moth, so Chan designed this. It's really easy to install."

"So, why the mess?"

"Most of that isn't from this cockpit. I got it from Sim Room storage. They keep old parts and stuff. The throttle was no good so I replaced it with this. "She pointed to a lever. "That will be your throttle and vectored flight control."

Hawkes was beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea.

"Er, we gonna get in trouble?"

"Relax. Nobody's going to know I did this." She reached under the control panel and tightened a couple of connections. "OK, we're all set. Cooper, flip that black switch will you."

He gingerly did as she asked.

"Right, I'll show you what you're going to do."

Attica explained to Cooper the subtle, and not so subtle differences between a Hammerhead and a Tiger Moth. Most of the controls and displays of the SA-38 she'd chosen to modify were obsolete, since the Tiger didn't have room for complex systems. Besides, Hawkes wouldn't be needed them for the moment, so she concentrated on the intricacies of the SCRAM-Vectored engine.

"You think you've got it?"

Hawkes repeated what she'd said.

"Alright then. You get comfortable while I get set up in the control room."

Hawkes carefully stepped into the cockpit, suddenly a little nervous. He had a horrible feeling that he was going to look like a fool. To get his mind in gear he checked the controls again. The SA-38, or 'Hurricane', was slightly smaller than a Hammerhead and its insides were configured a little differently. It had a joy stick to the right, a now modified throttle to the left, and a few of the switches were in unfamiliar places, but it didn't look so bad.

"OK Cooper, I'm switching it on." Zygramski's voice came over his headset.

Suddenly he was surrounded by a launching bay of a carrier. In front of him he could just see the nose of his plane and a single gun turret. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the moderately swept-back wings, nearer to the front of the craft than he was used to. He had a feeling like he was sitting right on top of the engine, which essentially, he was.

"Hey, I thought I was doin' take off."

"In a minute. I just want you to get the feel of it first. Alright, I'll run you through the checks and auto launch.

"Ready."

As she came to the end of the launch procedure he gripped the controls and felt himself pushed back into his seat as the fighter left the launch bay. He was surrounded by stars. He had a feeling he never ceased to tire of. It was just him, in a cockpit, in control. A slight smile curled his lips.

"Hawkes, I want you to get well clear of the carrier and then manoeuvre, keeping her on standard thrust."

"Roger that." Hawkes waited, then brought the plane round in a slow arc. As he became more confident he imagined he was trying to loose a Chig fighter, and juked. It handled a little differently, but it wasn't a stretch.

"That's great Cooper. Now I want you to keep her steady, and then slowly pull back half way on the left hand lever. This'll swing your engines so they're pointing forty five degrees down and you'll climb, OK?"

Hawkes placed his hand around the modified throttle and pulled. Suddenly his chest slammed into his seat restraint as the plane pulled up at an alarming rate. Before he knew what had happened he was in a spin, still climbing.

"Hawkes, push the throttle away from you."

As the stars whirled out side the windows he swung the engines back.

"Now pull out, like it was a Hammer."

Suddenly it all made sense again, and he was quickly brought the plane under control.

"Woa! What happened?"

"You pulled back too fast. Let's try that again, shall we."

Hawkes went over the manoeuvre until he got it right. Then he tried a bone jarring full stop, then a one hundred and eighty degree turn. He had to admit he was impressed. He could spin on a dime, or make the enemy overshoot and send a missile up it's ass. He was beginning to understand what Zygramski saw in the Tiger Moth.

"You feel ready for a take off?"

"Oh yeah!"

Inside the control booth Attica smiled as she changed the programme to place the Tiger Moth on an airstrip. The monitors infront of her showed her what Hawkes saw, and gave her the capability to throw enemy fighters and other problems in his way. For the moment though, he'd be doing well if he got off the ground at all.

"Now, remember. Keep the joy stick steady as you pull back on the throttle." The monitor showed the engines coming round to point straight underneath the wings. "Now pull back to increase thrust. That'll lift you."

She watched as the windows of the fighter appeared to shake more vigorously. Slowly the scene changed as the airstrip fell away a foot, and then the nose came down, she got a brief glimpse of nothing but tarmac and the screen went black.

"Shit!"

"Cooper. I don't think anybody's lifted off first time. Try it again."

He tried it several times. She could tell he was getting frustrated. Once he had the fighter six feet off the ground before it tilted and crashed sideways into the ground.

"Cooper, you've got to relax. You're gripping the joy stick too hard."

Hawkes mumbled something under his breath and tried again.

Behind her, Attica heard a noise and turned to see McQueen framed by the doorway. She flicked the comlink to incoming communications only.

"Er, hello."

"I'm going to pretend I never saw you."

Attica smiled sheepishly.

"What're you up to with my pilot?"

"He wanted to fly a Tiger Moth."

"You are corrupting his mind, Attica."

Her smile broadened. "Don't worry, I don't think he's that keen right now."

McQueen shook his head slowly. "Has he managed to get off the ground at all?"

"Temporarily."

He smiled.

"Don't look so smug. I saw your first attempts, remember?"

McQueen kept quiet as she switched the comlink back to a two way channel.

"Coop, try it again."

They both watched as the plane lifted, only to come hurtling back to earth moments later.

"This thing's a fuckin' death trap!"

"Hawkes." Attica cautioned him. "You're talking about the plane I love." She grinned at McQueen.

"Sorry. But how the hell d'you do this."

"Practice. Now do it again."

She heard him sigh softly as she pressed the restart button.

As Hawkes tried time and time again, she and McQueen spoke only when the comlink was on incoming only. They had independently decided that it wouldn't do Hawkes any good to know his CO was watching this.

McQueen frowned suddenly as Attica reset the programme. "Didn't the post come today?"

"Uh-huh."

"You didn't get any?"

"Apparently our new uniforms and kit decided to take a detour via the 4th Fleet. Somebody screwed up I suppose." Attica pressed the reset button once again and opened the channel to her frustrated pupil. "That was better, Coop. You almost had it." She shut her end off again. "I guess I'll be wearing this American crap for a while longer."

McQueen raised an eyebrow as he looked down to see the view outside Hawkes' cockpit change from tarmac, to blue sky, to black.

"FUCK!!"

Attica flipped the switch. "Lieutenant, you can tell a lot about a person by how he handles set-backs."

"Er....I'll try it again."

They watched as the plane once again hovered higher and higher above the ground. This time, however, it didn't plunge nose down, it stayed steady.

Hawkes voice came over the comlink, sounding nervously optimistic. "Er, what now."

"Cooper, very slowly you have to tilt the nose up a fraction and push the throttle forward at the same time. You want to be climbing up at about twenty degrees."

"OK."

On the monitors she could see the engines swinging backward and the nose coming up. She had to admit that she was very impressed. Slowly the airstrip disappeared under the plane and all she could see was blue sky. Then she realised what was going to happen.

"Hawkes, nose down a bit. Nose down!"

But it was too late. The plane did a backward somersault and smashed, cockpit first, into the tarmac. Both she and McQueen winced involuntarily. Simulators could make flying feel so real it was scary sometimes.

"Hawkes, you're doin' good. Very few people get this far on their first try."

"Really?"

"Really. Now try it again."

This time Hawkes didn't sound quite so pissed off.

Over the next hour Hawkes got airborne four more times. The first three had ended spectacularly quickly. However, as they watched his fourth attempt, Hawkes seemed to be keeping it steady. Attica kept quiet, not wanting to spoil his concentration, as the plane wobbled slightly, almost grazed a wing, then climbed. It was slow, and it was ugly, but thirty second later Hawkes was at five hundred feet and happily manoeuvring in standard thrust, just like it was a Hammerhead. He was also yelling at the top of his lungs. Attica let him have his fun and glanced at her watch. It was 02:55.

"Hawkes. HAWKES!" The whooping stopped. "You did great! Now I have to get this thing back to normal before 0:600 and I do need some sleep. I'm switching off."

"Can't I land it?"

"Not tonight Cooper." She switched the controls off and the screen once again showed the inside of a bare simulator room. "I'll be with you in a minute." She wanted Cooper to end on a high note. It'd be no good if he tried to land. He'd just plough into the ground again and ruin what he was feeling right now.

"I can switch this off, I'll come in when he's gone."

"Thanks." She paused on her way out and turned. "He's bloody good isn't he."

McQueen nodded, trying not to look too proud of his pilot. Attica couldn't help but smile. She left him to deal with that end and went to congratulate a jubilant Hawkes.


Once Hawkes had left Attica set about getting the simulator back to its original state. McQueen leant against the cockpit watching her. After a couple of minutes she looked up.

"You know, you could help."

McQueen smiled slightly.

"What?" He had a look about him. Like he wanted to talk about something but didn't know where to start.

"Er.....I was wondering if I could talk to you about something."

"OK." She looked up at him, wondering what had brought this on.

"You, er," he paused" um....well, you seem to be spending a lot of time with Hawkes."

"Uh-huh."

"Well......er.......I was just wondering....."

"Yeah?"

"What exactly are your intentions?"

Attica stared at him in disbelief for a moment before the shear stupidity of the conversation got to her and she collapsed into silent laughter.

"What?"

"I'm sorry." She tried to regain her composure, failed, and started to shake, her hand over her mouth in a futile attempt to hide her mirth. "You know, I'm sure I've heard that line in a movie. Only the subject was somebody's teenaged daughter"

"Look, I'm just concerned that's all."

"Oh come on Ty, give me some credit. He's half my age."

"Well, do you know how he feels about it?"

"Er...I've never asked him. But that poor lad isn't exactly Mr. Subtle, I think I would have guessed by now."

McQueen looked at the floor. For some reason he seemed concerned, she just wished she knew why.

"Look, Ty. Maybe Hawkes just needs somebody he can talk to who'll actually understand what he's going through." She looked up at him. "Who's not his CO." She added hastily when she saw the look on his face. "Look, it's not like he can just drop into your quarters for a chat, is it?"

"He's been dropping into your quarters?"

"No. Jeez Ty, get a grip. I just mean that you two can't be friends, it's a function of the job. And maybe there are some things he feels more comfortable talking to me about? Believe me, I've known enough twenty four year old tanks to know what they're thinking about."

"And what are they thinking about?"

"Well, sex mostly."

McQueen had to smile at that.

"Tell you what, I'll keep my eye out for any odd behaviour, OK. And if he suddenly starts inviting me for candlelight dinners in the mess, I'll let you know."

McQueen gave her a weary smile.

"Now unless you know anything about flight simulator electronics, get out of my light."

"Yeah, like you do." McQueen mumbled under his breath as he walked away.

"Aw, shuddup"


Walking back to his quarters McQueen went over their conversation in his head. He hadn't been intending to have it. At least, he hadn't been intending to have that particular conversation. It had just seemed easier to get out of it that way. The irony of that made him smile.

Of course, Attica's reaction had been predictable. He knew her too well to think she'd be that stupid. Sure, she wasn't above an occasional fling, but not with Hawkes. She knew how McQueen felt about him, and she knew Hawkes was too young to be messing with his head. McQueen's pace slowed for a moment as he thought about that. How exactly did he feel about Hawkes?

He realised that, to the casual observer, it might appear to be almost a father-son relationship. But that wasn't how he saw it at all. He was his CO, maybe a mentor, but that was it. The problem was that he had to acknowledge that their relationship was different from any he'd had before. Before thoughts of adoptive parenthood could surface he quickened his stride until he stood outside his quarters.

Once inside, his thoughts drifted back to Zygramski. She'd been on board for three weeks now, yet he'd hardly seen her. This was, for the most part, due to conflicting schedules and the escalation of the war in preparation for Roundhammer, that had kept her away from the Sara' for most of that period. But even when she'd been on board and available for a beer, they still rarely found the time. Maybe he was jealous? He tried to push that thought away, but it stubbornly remained. Maybe he was jealous that she and Hawkes could just hang out. In fact, these days, it appeared that Attica preferred to hang out with Hawkes rather than with him. The question was, who was avoiding who? And why?

They had always been close, due mainly to the fact that they understood where the other was coming from, but they had been very different people when they'd first met. In fact, they couldn't really call each other friends till two years later, when they'd met again in Laos. Since then, they had kept in contact, though not on a regular basis. Over the years McQueen had developed a tough exterior, Zygramski, a sense of humour. Both, he had to admit, for the same reason, protection. With the exception of Zygramski and Ross nobody on the Saratoga really knew what he was thinking about, and even they were way off mark sometimes. This had many advantages, especially when playing poker. And he was pretty sure that nobody but him could read Zygramski, although for some reason this never seemed to improve her game. Her continually shifting expressions were an effective smoke screen for most, but he'd learnt to pick out the one that actually meant something. Which brought him back to the argument they'd had the day the 32nd had been officially posted to the Saratoga. Sure, she'd said that her sudden outburst had nothing to do with him, but he couldn't help but think that she'd been avoiding the issue. Everything since then had pointed to the fact that their relationship had changed somehow.

The last time he'd seen her had been in June of '62 when they'd been training in Scotland, and before that, Wilson Air Base. Then, he'd attributed the change to his recent divorce. He'd assumed that it was his imagination that things were different, the green meany withdrawal taking its toll. But now he could see that he'd been wrong. She seemed angry about something, something he had evidently done.

McQueen chose Beethoven's 7th and pressed play. It was late, and he should be getting some sleep, but his mind was too active so he decided to sort through the papers on his desk. From time to time though, his mind wandered back to the question at hand. What had he done, and why didn't Attica want to talk about it?


USS SARATOGA.
PEGASUS SECTOR.
04:30 6/15/64
As McQueen sat down Attica looked up, chewing thoughtfully. She passed the salt.

"Steak and eggs, huh?"

McQueen nodded solemnly. "Steak and eggs."

"You know, I don't know how people eat this for breakfast."

"Well you seem to be giving it a good shot."

She waved a fork at him. "Do you know when I last had steak and eggs? I'm just going to grit my teeth and do my best to get through it." She smiled, then looked down at her plate.

They ate in silence. What the hell was there to say?


An hour later she was running through pre-flight checks with a mixture of anxiety and relief that Roundhammer was finally underway. Most of the younger pilots seemed excited, if nervous, after all they'd never taken part in such a large operation, they didn't know the odds. First to go, last to know. Damned right.

"32nd, you are cleared for launch."

She felt the cockpit lower and attach to the fuselage, and then a kick as she accelerated out of the hangerbay doors.


Vansen focused her mind on the task at hand. Demios airstrip had to be taken. No matter the losses, it was vital to the success of Operation Roundhammer. She felt a surge of pride when she thought about it. They were kicking off the show. The 58th and the rest of the best.

"Picking up Chig fighters, bearing zero four eight by one thirty three." West's voice came in over her comlink.

"Two ducks on the pond. Who wants them?"

"I got 'em!" Wang locked on.

The two enemy fighters burst into flames as they left the ground.

And then the airstrip came into view. Plumes of smoke rose from the charred remains of planes caught on the ground by the first wave of Hammerheads. Troops poured out of ISSCV's, taking cover in the dunes surrounding the airstrip, moving in on the buildings left standing. Hammerheads were already setting down. No sign of the enemy. The 58th flew one pass and then came in to land.


"Air control secured 32nd. Set them down, grid point 493 231."

"Roger that Red Eagle." Zygramski checked the LIDAR one more time before switching to vectored flight control. Coming down she could see the wrecked airstrip for a moment before if disappeared behind the ridge running beside it. Slowly she eased the plane down. One thing you could never do with a Tiger Moth was take anything for granted. Its VTOL capabilities meant they could put down away from the airstrip, but it was also what earned it its nick-name, 'The Widow Maker'.

As she climbed out and stood on her right wing she saw Lieutenant Fahid returning from the nearest ISSCV, just visible over the ridge. She caught the camo-tarp he threw up at her and started to spread it over her plane. One thing she liked about Sanderson was that he was cautious. He never assumed anything, and he sure as hell wasn't assuming that the Chigs wouldn't be back.


DEMIOS AIRSTRIP
14:42 6/15/64
As the 58th sat talking in the shade Hawkes squatted a little way off, leaning against a supply container, checking his rifle. He had a nagging feeling. Where the hell were all those Chigs they'd been told about? Why had this been so easy? They'd just finished searching the airstrip's old Officer's Club, though he doubted that's what the enemy had used it for. They hadn't found anybody. A couple of squads had encountered some resistance in the flight control centre, but it had just been a handful of Chigs. There just weren't enough bodies to account for all the burnt out fighters. Where were the ground personnel? Did Chigs have ground personnel? Had they taken cover some place intelligence hadn't spotted? Two boots stepped into view. He looked up.

"Hello, Hawkes."

"Hey, Major." Hawkes pulled himself up, shouldering his rifle. "Weird this, huh?"

"You could say that. Has Vansen called in?"

"Yes, an hour ago. No word from the Eisenhower yet."

Attica nodded. "They should be giving us our orders soon. Hang tight." She gave Hawkes a reassuring slap on the arm and headed off to talk to Colonel Sanderson, leaving Hawkes to wander back into the shade. She didn't feel very assured though, Sanderson had been trying to reach the carrier for the last half hour.

"Anything, sir?"

"Nothing."

"Something's not right."

He nodded. "Better be ready to move." Sanderson looked over her shoulder. Attica could hear an electric razor.

"Should we try the Saratoga, sir?"

"We're under orders to contact the Eisenhower." Before Zygramski could argue he continued. "It could be important that we don't break the Sara's radio silence. We'll give it some more time."

Attica sat heavily on an old jeep tire, throwing up dust. Two assaults on this airstrip in six months had left their mark. It was going to be a while before it was fully operational again. The Chigs hadn't bothered to clear up much while they were here. A blackened helicopter sat fifty metres away, evidence of the day they lost this ground. She stared through the green haze. The Eisenhower was up there somewhere. Why the fuck weren't they answering?

What Sanderson hadn t mentioned was that he was more than a little worried. He had just met with Cavoti and Yashima and they had immediately sent a coded message direct to General Hammond on the Sara. As far as he was aware, the three of them were the only people on planet who knew about the Chigs LIDAR scambling capabilities. Although R&D had not yet come up with a countermeasure for the device they had found on Harrim V, they had developed a detector, now fitted into all Earth planes, that would be set off if the Chigs were projecting false images. Unfortunately, since this was still classified, all they could tell the pilots was to fly low, to hopefully prevent the use of the scrambler, and to ignore their LIDAR s should the detector alarm go off.

What worried Sanderson was that, as far as he knew, none of them had been triggered, which meant that the Chigs weren t using the scrambler. Since intel had been sure they d find one on Demios, Sanderson wondered what that meant with respect to the ease with which they d taken the air strip. As it turned out, the Brass on the Saratoga were thinking along the same lines.


It was too quiet. Torres could feel herself tensing up. Something ought to be happening. But there was no sign of reinforcements, just the deep black sky. Maybe they'd caught them napping on planet? Maybe they hadn't been able to signal for help? Maybe there weren't any more Chigs in the area? Maybe something was wrong? She heard her CO check in with the Saratoga and be told to hold position. She wished she knew what was happening on planet.

And then her screen lit up. Fighters everywhere. Coming from where the Eisenhower should have been. And behind them, hive ships. She heard the Williamstown ordering them to engage, along with the rest of the 10th Battle Group that had been waiting to intercept reinforcements, should they come. But this didn't look like a few reinforcements, this looked like an entire fucking fleet!

As the 53rd came round to intercept, the enemy was on them. She saw two planes burst into flames off her right wing, but she couldn't tell who they were. She locked on to the nearest Chig and fired.


"Scramble! Scramble! Get airborne. Come on! Enemy aircraft fifty miles out."

Zygramski's head snapped up at Vansen command, but as she stood she was knocked backward by the force of an enemy missile hitting the airstrip. She came up coughing sand and grabbed her rifle. Looking back in the direction of the blast, she saw the remains of the Marine who had shielded her from the worst of it. It was Sanderson's wing man, Hardy.

"Zygramski. Can you fly?" Sanderson was hauling her up.

"Sir, yes sir!"

"Zygramski!" He yelled in her face as she stared blankly at the dead pilot. "Your arm. How bad is it?"

She looked down. Her tattered flight suit slowly came into focus. She couldn't feel it, that wasn't good, she was sure of that.

"It's OK, sir."

"Then let's move!"

She followed the rest of her squadron away from the sound of rapid fire, ripping a strip off her uniform as she went. Fifty feet on they dove for cover behind a dune as a second wave came in. Chan hastily bandaged her up as bullets hit the ground between them and the airstrip. Her arm had started to throb though, mercifully, it didn't seem to be bleeding too badly. Once the fighters had flown over they were up again. Zygramski took one last look back before diving over the ridge. She couldn't make much out. Figures below fired off rounds as Chigs streamed out of personnel carriers. Others were running for cover. What was left of their Hammerheads lay burning.


Zygramski fired up the engines and went through a quick systems check. If she could just get her plane off the ground she could handle it. She tentatively reached forward, closed her hand round the engine tilt control and hit the throttle. It wasn't exactly a textbook take-off, she was just lucky no Chig fighters were close enough to get off a shot. Her plane slowly eased up, hovering, the nose a little too low. She adjusted her position until she could see daylight infront of her and switched to standard flight. Attica stifled a yell as she was thrown back into her seat.

"Blackhawk, you alright down there?"

"I'll be right with you White Owl, hang on." Zygramski banked to the right and came up to join her wingman. Together they came round and flew north to where the rest of the 32nd was engaging the enemy.

Fourteen kilometres north of the airstrip the 32nd were in one hell of a fur ball. Four Chig squadrons were attempting to drive them away from the Earth Force ground personnel. Zygramski could hear Sanderson on the radio.

"USS Saratoga. This is Red Eagle requesting immediate air support. We are the only squadron operational. Taking heavy fire. Advise." There was no response.

Coming up from behind them Zygramski and Chan managed to take a few out before they knew they were on them. They joined the standard V for a moment before the squadron moved apart again, briefly moving into a Leonard's Cross formation before the lead plane hit the deck. As several Chig planes broke off to follow Salam and Johnston peeled off, suddenly spinning on a dime and firing their machine guns into the unprotected uppersides of the enemy fighters.

"Regroup!" Sanderson pulled up through the remainder of the decimated Chig squadron, taking two more with him.

Again in formation they tried to get back to the airstrip, but there were two many enemy planes. Zygramski had a Chig on her tail and locked on when five more Chig fighters converged driving them northeast. All she could do was try to out run them, she knew she wouldn't be able to take the high G's of Vectored flight. The 32nd broke formation again their planes hugging the ground, as they tried to shake them. Chan tried to come around to help Attica out, but only succeeded in getting two enemy planes on her six.

"I'll be right there." Chan flipped the safety off her missile firing systems and checked her six. There they were, two Chigs doggedly trailing her every move. She steadied her TAF-2 for a moment and then hit the Vectored Flight control, swinging the engines under the plane and bringing her to an almost immediate stop. As she did so the Chigs overflew their target and she fired. They exploded moments later and spiralled to the ground. Manoeuvring straight up for a couple of seconds she tried to locate Attica's plane, then switched back to standard flight to intercept. Coming in from underneath she took the fighter out with her forward gun turret.

As Chan took two more on Attica swung in behind her. She could hear Sanderson still trying to raise the Saratoga on the radio.


USS SARATOGA
15:40 6/15/64
Commander Belkov listened to Colonel Sanderson's reports as he stood on the bridge. In the Conference Room, three decks down, Commodore Ross was in a meeting with the Brass. "Lieutenant, patch me through to the Colonel McQueen."

"Aye Sir."

"Colonel McQueen, we have one operational squadron down there wanting orders, I need something to tell them."

There was silence for about thirty seconds, then McQueen. "You are ordered to recall any squadrons still on planet. The enemy has achieved air superiority over the airstrip. Do not dispatch any further squadrons until so ordered." The comlink switched off.

Belkov stared straight forward. "Lieutenant, recall the 32nd" His knuckles were white where he gripped the guard rail.

"Red Eagle this is the Saratoga." The young woman spoke into the comlink. "Golden Gate. I repeat, Golden Gate."

There was a moments static. "Roger that Saratoga."


DEMIOS
15:45 6/15/64
"What?!" Chan's voice came through Zygramski's headset at full volume, echoing her own thoughts.

"You heard me, White Owl, let's get the hell out of here."

The 32nd banked left and hit an almost vertical ascent. Zygramski thought she could feel blood pooling against her seat but the bandage looked fine. It was just her mind playing tricks, a result of the high G's. Five Chig squadrons were on their tail, dropping back after a while, unable to keep up with the rapid climb. Zygramski could see more on the LIDAR between them and the remnants of the 10th Battle Group.

Breaking out of the planet's atmosphere she felt the resistance falling. Her vision was a little blurred and she tried to concentrate on breathing during this brief respite. Her temples hurt from gritting her teeth against the pain in her arm. Through the distraction of a slight ringing in her ears she saw up ahead, the Williamstown's guns blasting into the heart of the enemy fleet. Within seconds they engaged.


USS SARATOGA
16:42 6/15/64
"Sir, the last of the fighter squadrons is on board."

Ross nodded. The Navy Lieutenant turned back to the console and switched frequencies. Ross' head came up as he recognised Damphousse's voice.

"Saratoga, this is Demios. Request response to request for air cover. The situation is deteriorating. Many units in retreat. The air field has been taken. Many casualties. Request response."

McQueen felt strangely numb, hardly able to hear the Lieutenant's reply. "Demios, this is the Saratoga..."

"Lieutenant." Ross cut her off and picked up his comlink. "Marines, this is Commodore Ross of the USS Saratoga. We remain proud of you. Due to security reasons I am unable to explain to you this painful directive. Due to the fortunes of war. Black Forest. I say again, Black Forest......"


Attica sat in her cockpit in hangerbay four while the flight crew opened the hatch. She felt a little dizzy, and was having difficulty keeping her eyes open. She realised she was probably going into shock and was struggling to keep from throwing up. As they'd left the 10th Battle Group covering the fleet's withdrawal she dimmly remembered loosing Johnston. He'd been right next to her. She wasn't sure if it had been Chig or friendly fire. As hands reached in to remove her helmet she didn't have the energy to lift her arms to help.

"Major?" A medic leaned into the cockpit. When he got no response he called over a couple of others to help get her out. Attica was only vaguely aware of being placed on a gurney. Sanderson was yelling. Someone was loosing blood. She tried to lift her head to see who it was and the hangerbay swam to black.


"......Semper Fidelis, and may God be with you, always." Ross paused briefly, as the channel was closed. "Helmsman, weigh anchor. Set a course for the Helios System." He turned to McQueen who was staring blankly ahead. "We'll be back for them."

McQueen turned his head slightly, unable to look him in the eyes. "Yes sir, if they're still here."


When Attica came round she made a wise decision. To open her eyes very, very slowly. Still, as the light seeped in, she thought her head would probably explode. After a moments adjustment she shifted her focus to the person sitting next to her, and shut her eyes again, fast. When the thumping had receded she opened them again to see McQueen, his eyes closed, by her bed. Summoning up a good deal of courage she took a breath.

"So, you jus' gonna sit there, or wha'?"

McQueen jerked awake and looked over at her, his eyes still only half open.

"How you feeling?"

"Like someone sat on my head." Attica looked over at the door as a nurse came in. "So wha' happened?"

"You lost a lot of blood and went into shock."

"Ah...jus' a little shock." She was starting to remember the dog fight. It was all a bit confused.

"You shouldn't be talking." The nurse leant over her, then checked the display on the machine next to the bed. "Colonel, you ought be leaving now."

"Hold on, did everyone else get back?" Attica was still trying to remember why they'd been in a dog fight in the first place.

"Other than Hardy and Johnston, yes."

"Hardy....." Demios. They'd been on Demios.

"Chan was here a while ago."

"We still at Demios?"

McQueen looked over at the nurse, suddenly uncomfortable. "No, we've been diverted."

"Wha'?"

"We've had to leave Demios."

"Colonel, please. I need you to leave." The nurse was trying his best. Unfortunately, he'd seen many of the medical staff trying their best with McQueen, and it had never looked like much fun.

"When're we goin' back?"

McQueen avoided answering by getting up and retrieving his copy of 'The Odyssey' that had fallen to the floor. There was a look in her eyes he didn't like.

"When are we going back?" She sounded more insistant this time.

"Er.......I don't know."

Attica looked away, leaving McQueen at a loss for what to say. He'd seen that look before. An almost detached acceptance of betrayal. He found himself uncharacteristically picking at the binding of the book in his hand. He tried to think of something to say, started to try to explain, then changed his mind, how the hell could he?

"I saw the 58th, just before they started bombing." It was starting to come back to her now. "Have you heard anything?"

"Not since we left."

"Colonel McQueen, the Major needs rest." The nurse braced himself for the innevitable ass-kicking that remark would bring him. But to his surprise, the Colonel seemed ready to comply.

McQueen looked over at the nurse torn between an obligation to stay and a desperate desire to leave.

Attica's eyes were closed now, as she drifted off again.

"Fuckin' Brass." She mumbled.

She was asleep now. McQueen watched her for a moment before heading for the door. He hit it hard on the way out, the pain in his hand, strangely comforting.

The End

Rachael J. Walker © 1996


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