Roger

Rain. It had been going on for a while - he had awakened a couple of times already and each time he could hear it. Barely, as the house was insulated like a drink cooler and the windows barely let any sound through.

Turned around again. Been dreaming but never remember the dreams five minutes after I wake up and I've been awake longer than that now.

Roll over and stuff the pillows under his head, pull the body pillow up, wishing Angie was here.

Fuck it. Ain't goin' back to sleep.

He finally located the computer, on the desk at the other end of the bed. Screen saver displaying the time, clicking over to 0432.

He knew he wasn't going to sleep any more and rolled over and slid off the bed, face down on the floor in pushup position. A hundred pushups later he was wide awake and went into the kitchen. A K-cup of Folgers Black Silk and push the button.

He made a circuit of the house, looking out each window for anything out of order. Nothing. Coffee ready.

He took his coffee back into the bedroom. The thirty by twenty room was practically a studio apartment - the desk with a couple of computers and comm equipment, small kitchen and bar in a corner. The screensaver had vanished and a window had appeared. Flashing red bar on top.

Damn. What's Charlie doin' up this early. And what's he want with me now?

He sipped coffee and looked at the box.

Emerald Baron. What the fuck is that? Something somebody thinks is important no doubt. Need a smoke.

He took a cigarillo from a box on the desk and lit it. Sipped coffee and smoked.

He'll give me up to ten minutes before he starts getting excited.

The cigarillo was finished at eight minutes. He clicked the button.

"How soon can you be at Pine Ridge?"

Pine Ridge? That's near a hundred miles from here. How long does he think it'll take, seeing as he must know where I am?"

He did the math, picturing the route. Typed in the box and clicked.

"Three hours minimum."

I could do it in less even in this weather but screw'em.

"Make it two."

"No can do. Rain all night."

"See you at 0700?"

"I'll try."

That'll have to do - matter of principle.

I owe Charlie. But how much do I owe him? He got me out of Zulu-6 so probably probably pretty much whatever he asks for.

Quick shave, brush teeth, shower. Put on the uniform, such as it is. Khaki cargo pants and matching shirt, burgundy long-sleeve tee under. The Timberland boat shoes, glad he had bought a half-dozen pairs when he discovered them. One pair was lost and it was one of those pissy little irritants but dammit he was annoyed when he thought about it.

He put the Rolex Air-King on - sometimes a guy looks at his wrist more often than you'd think to see that time it is. Especially when you've lost everything else you were carrying. He'd been there a time or three and wasn't interested in being there again.

0502. Two hours? Wet out, take Scotty. Take it easy.

Check the bag. M10 and a half dozen mags, ten M67s. Need more than that you screwed up somewhere.

Put on the rig - pair of seven-inch 10mm Korsairs in vertical shoulder holsters with a pair of spare mags for each. A Barkley kobun hanging upside down on the left side - a tanto with eight inches of hand-forged Damascus.

What else? Pack of smokes, the gold tips. Might want to burn one of those before leaving. The two regular phones and a couple of throwaways. Commpad.

Probably forgetting something but time to go.

Scotty is a 1975 Chevy Scottsdale pickup, a lower trim level back then. Dad bought three of them, one for himself and one for Roger and one for the foreman. He bought a Caprice for Mom and a Camaro for kid sister Callie. Five or more got you a good deal buying and insuring.

Thinking of Caroline still hurt. Mom too but it happens to some of us, Mom not yet fifty there some kinds of cancer they hadn't figured out much. But Callie wasn't even thirty when a drunk came out of the Number One Club outside of Hornerville at exactly the wrong time. It was easy to hate the drunk and be glad he died too but doesn't do anything for the pain.

Lot of darkness in my life before I signed on for this. Maybe it's why I did.

Time to go. Grab the bag and lock up. Call Angie.

"Hi lover, what's up?"

"Not something you'll like. I know I don't."

"Charlie?"

"Yep."

Silence. She understands, maybe better than I do.

"You got to go, you got to go. We can't let our personal lives get in the way just now, can we?"

"I ever tell you how much I love you?"

"Not often. But I know. Stay safe - do that and I'm happy."

"I don't know how long this will take but I'll call you soon as I know."

"Good enough. Love you."

Scotty was always ready. He tossed the bag in and climbed board, cranked the Cummins that had replaced the third Chevy gas-burner. Idle three or four minutes, time to go.

Almost a mile from the house he turned onto 356 West. Road wet so take it easy. Open the Commpad and check things, looks like a Dragonfly almost overhead. Blip behind could be anything but probably a chopper. Incoming call. Tap the answer button.

"That you Roger? If it isn't somebody stole your truck."

"Ginger? What you doing up there?"

"I'm on loan. Your guardian angel - Charlie wants to be sure you arrive safely."

"What's up? Never mind, people listening."

"We're yellow," Ginger replied. "Just be extra alert. Anything coming at you I'll see before it sees me. Behind you too but watch your mirrors."

"Got it. Buy you a drink first chance I get."

"Deal. Stay safe for the next couple of hours."

The Dragonfly was similar to the old Cessna military aircraft it was named for. A little bigger and with a .50 cal in the nose instead of the minigun in the original. The newer aircraft was also more efficient and could stay up longer.

Yellow? What'd I miss?

Yellow meant the perimeter had been breached and the breacher or breachers were unaccounted for.

If they came across my place I need to review security. Guys woulda caught it though, even if equipment failed.

0645. I'll make it, should stop for smoke just to annoy him. No I shouldn't - something important going on.

The last leg was a winding path up the ridge to the compound almost six hundred feet above the flood plain. Park Scotty in front of the main building. Charlie's Dodge Power Wagon was there, most of the dark blue paint from its days in an Air Force motor pool at Vandenberg Air Force Base still there.

Military equipment was sold off pretty cheaply and Charlie had bought a lot of four - three running and one not but all the same year and easy to cannibalize and make two or even three functional vehicles from a batch.

Lock the doors - nobody gonna mess with it but don't get sloppy. He heard the Dragonfly pass by low, heading for the airfield. Feelings of guilt about wanting to see Ginger again. Angie was the only woman for him but he liked women, especially women who were smart, good-looking and personable. Not that Ginger was a smokeshow like Angie - good-looking all right but still a tomboy at near thirty and it showed. Whip-smart and charming though, and a helluva lot of fun to hang with.

Bunch of vehicles here. Better get in there and see what's going on.

Charlie was older than Roger but Roger didn't know his exact age - as far as he knew Charlie was somewhere north of seventy. He didn't look it though, if Roger hadn't known him for a while he would have guessed mid-sixties. He was wearing the usual khaki - the closest thing to a uniform they wore. He had a compact pistol in an crossdraw holster - for as long as Roger had known him it had been a Beretta Brigadier and that hadn't changed. Charlie had more security than a paranoid tinpot dictator but his were competent as well as numerous. You generally wouldn't see it though.

"Come on back," Charlie said. Without waiting for a response he walked towards one of the doors along he back wall of the building. Roger followed him in and sat down without being invited. Charlie sat down too. He pushed a button on a comm console.

"Supply, Johnson. What can I do for you?"

"Can you get a bit of breakfast up here? Hang on... breakfast or lunch?

"Brunch?" Roger replied.

"Some of both," Charlie said to Johnson. "No rush."

"Be there shortly," Johnson said.

Charlie shook a cigarette out of a case and stuck it in the corner of his mouth. It had a red tip, generally an indicator of a cannabis-infused stick. Some guys used them to put an edge on sometimes - Roger didn't, preferring the gold tips. Charlie lit the stick and took a drag.

"You know we're in yellow," Charlie said. "About 0330 we got an alarm from sector sixteen. Only thing sensitive down there is the Light Dancer project. It shouldn't be something anyone even knew about much less where it is."

"I didn't know about until just now," said Roger. "What is it? Or do I need to know?"

Charlie grinned and tapped some keys on the computer behind him.

"You do now," he said. "There's the basics. The main thing is Delta Citadel - there are several other projects but that's the big one."

"Delta Citadel?"

Roger waited.

Whatever it is is Charlie's problem. Only it's about to be mine.

"Delta Citadel is special forces," Charlie said. "Very special. You know about Bill Garrison?"

Lemme think. William Garrison, Silver Lake. Ninjas, ex-military special forces, made a bunch of the hits on Black Friday.

"What's he got to do with it? He's based in Colorado."

"We were impressed with his operation," Charlie said. "We've been sending people out for training, he's been here a few times, putting together a larger force. He sent over Miyamoto Sakashi and Michael Schneider to get it set up. The names mean anything?"

"I've heard of Sakashi and Schneider. Way back."

"Bill recruited them both," said Charlie. "Way back. They pretty much disappeared from view. They were his house guard, you could say. Mainly they were responsible for security at Silver Lake but they trained small groups of operatives, a handful at a time. Kind of a finishing school for commandos - put a fine edge on them. Several Black Friday teams trained there."

"Impressive. Where does he fit in now?"

"Bill doesn't. He visits occasionally and I see him at conferences. The main thing is Delta Citadel. Bill had two platoons - one of Ninjas and one Rangers. We have twelve of each so far - twelve Ninja/Ranger pairs. We have - at any given time - about two hundred candidates preparing for integration into a new platoon. Only about one in five or six makes it."

"Twelve units of two hundred? Half Ninjas and half Rangers?"

"That's the configuration. It takes time to assemble the units and fine-tune them but the results are worth it."

"Results? Anything I've heard about?"

"Sigma Seven?"

That was a pretty impressive piece of work.

"OK, got it," Roger said. "Why is their ops center so close to the perimeter?"

"That is something you don't need to know," Charlie replied.

What the fuck?

Charlie grinned and got up.

"Want some coffee?"

"I could use some."

A serving cart arrived at the door. Young man and woman in their twenties who could have been siblings. They pushed the cart into the room and parked it near the long counter that ran across the back or the room.

"Ginger will be here in a few minutes," the woman said. "Anything else we can get for you?"

"Looks good," Charlie replied. "Thanks, I'll holler if I need something."

Roger put a slice of toast and a couple of sausage links on a plate and poured a cup of coffee. After thinking about it for a couple he seconds he added what was probably supposed to be a blueberry muffin. He sat down and ate some of each as Charlie brought a plate. Everything was top drawer as usual.

"What you don't need to know," Charlie said, "and do now is that we flat screwed up. Should have put it over on the ridge. But at the time we didn't figure on it getting so big. Or so important. So we got it locked down good and watch it good. The intruders either weren't after if or didn't know where it was. They're down in the lowlands at Brushy Lake. We're observing them to see what they're up to."

Roger looked up as movement in his peripheral vision alerted him. Ginger Barrett still in her flight suit. Plain olive - no insignia of any kind.

She ran right over as soon as she landed.

Ginger leaned on casually on the doorframe, sunglasses pushed back. Dirty blonde hair rumpled. Cool almost smile.

Not falling for it kid. Known you too long.

He got up and she came towards him, putting her arms around his neck. No kiss though - Ginger adored him, probably asked for the assignment - but....

"Good to see you again," she said. "How's Angie?"

"Good as can be. Not any happier than I am but we gotta do what we gotta do."

"I feel guilty," Ginger said. "Enjoying it so much. But it keeps my mind off other things."

"I understand. Glad you're here. You in for the whole op?"

Look at Charlie.

"Ginger is part of the team," said Charlie. "I asked for her - Mantis didn't want to lose her for even a few weeks but Jackson was reasonable and I didn't have to pull rank."

Weeks? I don't like.

"Pull rank on the Mantis boss?" Roger asked.

"We're about equal," Charlie replied. "But Oberon gave this priority."

"How's the Dragonfly?" asked Roger.

"You'll like it," Ginger replied. "It's a big improvement on the A3. When Charlie gives you a break we can take a couple up. Charlie's got some pull - we've got six on this job."

"Can't wait."

"If you two are caught up," Charlie said, "do you mind getting on to the mission? You might as well stay, Ginger. You're the lead pilot and need to be in the loop on everything."

"Lead on," Ginger replied.

Charlie mumbled something then said "Grab a seat."

Ginger poured a cup of coffee and sat down in one of the only other available chair.

Charlie lit a cigarillo and didn't bother offering Roger one. Roger took out his gold-tips and offered it to Ginger. She took one and lit it.

He knew she smoked the gold tips, even before flying and he did the same. It was the optimum mix as far as he'd found. He lit a stick and waited.

"Delta Citadel is where it is," Charlie said, "because it needs to be. Two hundred acres of a variety of terrain, we already had a compound there so building out was quicker. Sure, it's only a quarter mile inside the perimeter but that's easy to secure. There's no reason at this point to believe that the intruders even know it's there but we have a couple of operations close to launch time and we can't afford anything going wrong."

"What do we do?" Roger asked. "Maintain security here or are we part of the operations?"

"Until launch time I need you augmenting security," Charlie replied. "Ginger and her squad will provide rapid response to any incursions the drones or ground stations pick up. The guys we caught were several hundred yards in before we picked them up - they took out all the ground sensors and how they managed to do that is something I want to know - and if they had been saboteurs they had a couple of opportunities to to some damage."

"What were they doing?" asked Ginger.

"Intelligence collection as far as we can tell. We're still interrogating them and it may take a while to sort out the results. Some of them..."

"Some of them what?" Roger asked.

"They're something we haven't seen before," Charlie replied. "At least not this deep - psych drugs that cause them to now actually know what they're doing somehow, even while they're doing it. So if we catch them whatever they tell us - even if they believe it - may not be the truth. Generally if we get them clean for a few days, weeks sometimes, they know the real from the drug but still may lie if they're disciplined enough."

"Seems they may not be of much use."

"Probably not," Charlie replied. "Or not soon enough. Let me show you what we got." He activated the large central screen on the array over his desk.

"Lightning Seraphim. Eleven days from now a Delta Cidatel force will hit a target in sector B-9. A combination of diversion and cutting off communications long enough to get a team in and extract some prisoners."

"They got all kinds of prisoners there," Roger said. "Low-level mostly - people rounded up at demonstrations, people that made themselves too visible, but they got a lot."

"They have a special section," said Charlie. "Several actually but we're only interested in one. The Fort Worth Four are there."

"That wasn't us."

"We have an interest," Charlie said. "It's pretty important. They were Dead-Enders, part of the Red Wolves outfit."

"Bunch of terminally ill guys on suicide missions? What happened - some of them not die?"

"Pretty much. Three of them had cancer and the other had cirrhosis and was just a step away from going into hospice. They had enough energy to take on a job - Mansville as you may recall - but they were burned and all captured."

"That was over a year ago," Roger said.

Charlie grinned.

"Yep. And when they found out who they were they just locked them up and didn't give them any medical care. Probably to let them die an unpleasant death. Only that didn't happen - after about six or seven months they were feeling better than ever and they did tests and the cancer was in remission, actually shrinking. And the liver in the guy was repairing itself."

"Livers will do that," Roger said. "Cancer I don't know about."

"Nah, like I said this guy was about gone. And they have their version of Doctor Mengele there - several actually - that like to experiment. They've been harvesting blood and tissue from these guys and sending it out to labs where they do tests and experiments, trying to see if there's something there they can use."

"It seems," Roger said, "that some people on our side might be interested. I can see why we'd want them back."

"You could say they won the lottery," Charlie replied. "But they deserve a chance, whether or not they can help us any other way. And if they're likely to recover we'd like for them to not be in prison."

"So we break in and get these guys out and bring them back here?"

"A Red Tigers platoon will break in," said Charley. "They'll secure the joint and cover you as you get the prisoners out and into a pair of choppers.

"The Red Tigers being a Ninja/Ranger unit?"

"Exactly. There'll be two - one is a backup and if things don't go smooth as silk on a shoeshine they'll come in and even things up. Not that there's likely to be a need. You remember the setup at Zulu-6."

"I remember being tied to a bed and being shot full of stuff I don't ever want to know what is. Wouldn't know how long I was there if you hadn't told me."

"And I went over the setup. You may have been a little groggy but Gamma-4 was about the same. Improvised camp - a small town vacated when the front approached. In this case they fortified a school campus - classroom buildings, gymnasium, the usual. We have a man inside - a woman actually - and already had the layout. She got us the location of the prisoners - they're the only ones you have to deal with - and the setup. They're rather comfortably housed since they're considered a possible asset. An asset that they may be preparing to move, so we need to get them out quickly."

"They have other prisoners?"

"About a hundred give or take. It's like Zulu-6 - the nearest forces are a half hour away - less by air but if they want to land a few choppers and try to take it back..."

"I get it. The Tigers will remove the other prisoners at their leisure. No chance they'll move them in the next twelve days?"

"There's no indication they're preparing to," Charley replied. "We're monitoring their communications and our insider indicates no such preparations."

"So I spend the next ten days memorizing the layout and practicing with the Tigers?"

"Pretty much. I'll introduce you to the commander tomorrow. I would do it now but he's tied up. You and Ginger want to take the rest of the day off I'm good. Tomorrow at 0800.

---

"I'll take you up for an orientation," Ginger said. "They're similar to the A3 and you've got some time in those."

"Thirty, forty hours maybe."

"It's easier to fly. We'll take one of the alert units."

"Ready?" she asked the crew chief.

"All set," he replied. The crew chief and a half dozen or so other personnel in the de facto uniform were present. Most ignored them as Roger made some final adjustments to his flight suit and climbed into the back seat.

Ginger got in and strapped in and tested the intercom.

"Ginger to Roger. Copy?"

"Gotcha."

He adjusted the headset and belts. He hadn't flown in a couple of weeks and the last time was ferrying one of the A-3s back from Silverlake.

Ginger fired the engines and began preflight and shortly taxied towards the runway.

"Hang on," she said and pushed the throttles forward.

The acceleration startled him a bit but it was after all a much newer aircraft.

"About 30% more thrust than the J22s," Ginger said. "More efficient too. With the new tanks we have almost two hours on internal. The wing tanks add over an hour."

Impressive.

He looked down. 15000 feet.

"Ready to fly?"

"Ready."

I hope.

He pulled back on the sidestick and climbed through 20000 and leveled off. Bank and turn left, back down to 15000, circle over the airfield.

"How high can we go?"

"We're cleared for thirty. Whenever you're ready."

He pulled the stick back and pushed the throttles forward, watching the altimeter. At 25000 he leveled off and looked at the ASI. 450, 470, 490. He pulled back.

"VNE is 550", Ginger said. "At 540 the computer overrides."

Might as well.

He pushed the throttles forward. 510, 530, 540. No more.

Where am I? We're not far inside Alliance airspace.

Another left. Locate the airfield. Low pass at 300, climb out and go around again.

"That's about enough for now," he said. "Want to take us down?"

"Roger, leggo."

He released the controls and Ginger took them down.

"How'd you like it?" she asked after they disembarked.

"Pretty smooth. I can do the whole thing next time."

"Cool. I'll get some target practice set up and once you're comfortable you can try that. You've done some in A3, right?"

"Just practice. Usually I'm on the ground in the mud getting shot at."

"Somehow I suspect this time won't be very different. At least you can have some fun."

---

"Roger, Ginger, meet Morimasa Takayama and David Morris. I sent them your dossiers before they left Colorado so we're all on the same page."

Takayama bowed slightly and Morris nodded.

"And they came anyway?" Ginger asked "You sure you sent the whole thing?"

"I left out the part about Roger drinking and womanizing and gambling and some other stuff," Charlie replied, "but assured them I could control him. Don't disappoint me, Rog."

"I'll do my best," said Roger. "Did you leave out the lying and thievery and generally being a slob?"

"I didn't want to scare them off."

Morris grinned and even Takayama smiled.

"Your reputation has gotten around," Morris said. "Good to be working with you. Ginger, good to meet you."

"Likewise," Takayama said in unaccented English.

Third generation American at least. Most adopt American first names though - at least most of the ones I've known.

"David and Takayama have their squads settled in at Citadel and prepping," Charlie said. "The Leopard Squad will infiltrate and make diversions while the Jaguars secure the LZ. Once the Ninjas and Rangers are almost on the ground they'll move in and begin securing the buildings we want. The Leopards will take the command building and neutralize the staff. There are only about two hundred and fifty personnel and a lot of those are prison personnel. We'll have a hundred Leopards and a hundred Jaguars plus the Ranger/Ninja force. Three hundred special forces against a couple hundred of the dregs of regime forces. Questions?"

"When is the drop point?" Roger asked.

"At 0300 the Leopards will begin diversion operations. Explosions going off near HQ and the personnel housing. The drop will occur 0250 - ten minutes will have them on the ground and ready to move. They move in with the Jags and join the fun. They'll take the prison and secure the prisoners we want. The other prisoners will be freed and told to run for it - there won't be anyone chasing them and we should be able to pick up most them once they're away."

"Some of those prisoners may be in bad shape."

"Some almost certainly will be in bad shape," Charlie replied. "Prisoners in worse shape escaped from North Vietnamese prisons and made their way out with no help - we'll be there to assist. And it's the best we can do."

"Any chance is better than none," said Roger. "And for now they've got none. What resources do they have available within what, twenty minutes? We should be out by then."

"By ground a good half hour. Some Humvees from Anderson. By air they can chopper in some force from Romeo-Five in about that time if they are on stanby but they won't be so add ten minutes. And if Ginger and her team see choppers coming in they'll shoot them down. Each Dragonfly is carrying four Stingers but they're fast and maneuverable to strafe them and it's easier and more reliable."

Stingers were an improved copy if the Sidewinder and were deadly inside of a couple of miles. Roger looked at Ginger.

"I expect Charlie speaks from experience."

"We've practiced," Ginger replied. "Shooting down drones and we practiced on a couple of defunct Blackhawks to be able to nail the weak spots."

"Sounds like fun. The drones anyway."

"We can do some. We'll be doing a couple more practice runs before the operation."

"It looks good on paper," Roger said. "We've got what - nine days?"

"Make it six," replied Charlie. "We need to be firm on everything a couple of days out."

---

"1500 rounds in the gun," Ginger said. "The Stingers are reliable one-shot kills. If we have time and I can get a couple of target drones authorized you can try your hand at them."

"I'm going in on the ground," Roger said. "Think Charlie will object to wasting resources on aerial practice?"

"It'll come in handy at some point. Something will come up."

Yeah. Wish this was over.

"OK, let's do it."

He climbed aboard and belted in, hooked up the radio and oxygen. Started engines.

He followed Ginger as she taxied onto the runway and stopped, keyed the mike.

"Go ahead," he said. "I'm not ready to try a two-ship launch just yet."

"Gotcha. Ready?"

"Ready."

As Ginger's plane moved away he pushed the throttles forward and turned onto the runway. Waited as she launched and then followed.

"Go down to five thousand," Ginger said. "Dead ahead."

He followed as Ginger descended, activating the gunsight in the helmet display.

There it is. Half flaps and back off the throttles a bit.

The box truck was painted black so it wasn't quite to easy to fix on. He centered it and waited until it was just a bit bigger. Pressed the trigger.

A couple of seconds of vibration, a cloud of debris as forty or so .50 caliber projectiles hit the truck.

Not bad. Pull up and throttle up, climb and turn right.

He got behind Ginger and followed her on the next run, watched as she shredded the truck some more.

"Time to head back," Ginger said. "We'll try to get in another session before the show."

"Not as much vibration as the A3," Roger said after they landed.

"The Dragonfly is quite a bit bigger," Ginger replied. "They're supposedly testing a 20mm on it but I haven't heard anything on it lately. If we have to intercept a relief force we'll probably use the Stingers as a first resort."

---

"You'll go in with Bill and the Rangers," Charlie said. "You and Bill and about ten men - the remainder are in four more aircraft. We don't have anything bigger so it takes good-sized fleet. Takayama and his men will be behind you. You'll land about a quarter mile south and head for the perimeter. There's a gate there - normally closed but guarded by four or five men. Once the first big bang goes off they'll be looking in that direction. Our insider will pop a couple of flares for the Dragonflies to target - the first pair will put down 500s and the second will use cluster bombs. There won't be any resistance when you arrive.

"It's about another three hundred yards to the central compound. That's probably where the fun will start - they won't be as concerned about securing the prisoners as they are surviving. There's no need to take prisoners - if any are still breathing afterwards and we can get them out that's bonus but not important."

"Our insider will be well away from the gate?" Roger asked. "Those CBs have about a hundred yard radius - the 54s anyway."

"The flares are prepositioned," replied Charlie. "Our agent will be in a position to observe and will confirm that we're clear to strike. She knows the risk and will be in a safe place."

"Once we're on the ground and formed up we've got a quarter mile," said Roger. "About two minutes."

"A Dragonfly will make a low pass just ahead of the attack flight," Charlie said. "Ginger - you'll hear it and see the lights. The main force is about five minutes behind. Head for the gate but don't get too close until the fireworks are over."

---

Fifteen hundred feet, 350 knots, half flaps. The Dragonfly was stable as a rock. Target centered in the gunsight. Press the trigger button. The 20mm slugs were going about six times as fast as the aircraft. Spray of debris from the truck.

About forgot how much fun this is is. Why didn't I just be a pilot?

Because Charlie. Because I got a 200-something IQ and didn't have the good sense to sandbag on the tests. Because I'm supposed to be some kind of genius with computers and electronic stuff generally. Because Musashi.

Musashi being the last thing a country boy from Arkansas should be interested in. He accelerated and climbed out and circled around for another pass.

---

"Pretty cool, huh?" Ginger asked.

Roger and Ginger were having a drink in what passed for an officer's club at Pine Ridge. A dozen or so other officers were in twos and threes around the room. The nice thing about being able to throw up 10,000 square foot buildings in three or four days was there was no shortage of indoor space.

"Wish it could do it every day."

"You've got bigger fish to fry. I'm just a pilot."

"You're more than that. How many times to I have to tell you? Me and another guy I know. And probably any guy that knows you."

Ginger smiled.

"I don't. But flying is what I do best. What I like to do. And where I can do something useful."

"I know. You know if they scramble some Blackhawks they may be able to deploy a drone cover. Not likely given the conditions but something to look out for."

"We know. We'll put up some eyes of our own beforehand. We'll spot them if they show up. One-shot kills are easy with the Stingers. We can take out the choppers and as many drones as they have. If we have time and I can get authorization to smoke a drone or two I'll show you."

That's what drones were made for, before the name was applied to every unmanned aircraft. Target drones. Still they could be a problem.

---

David Morris and five of the Rangers were already rigging up. The young man and woman assisting them looked familiar. Mark and Marie. Siblings. Twins in fact. Serving breakfast. He remembered now, their father was Gerald Tucker. He and Charlie went way back.

"We're kind of a Swiss army knife," Mark said with a grin. "Working for Charlie you have to be versatile."

Rigged up he followed the others outside. Several aircraft were idling near the runway. They walked out to their aircraft - a Cessna 208. There were two of them - maybe former cargo carriers. They had made a bunch of them and skydivers liked them. He didn't like jumping out of airplanes of any kind.

With their gear the seven of them were a near capacity load for the Cessna. He boarded after David and before the rest. The aircraft had been modified for skydiving with a wide rollup door. He sat

OK, let's get this done.

Much as he enjoyed flying he was always uncomforable as a passenger, much as he was as a passenger in a car. Even though he knew there was no danger with someone he knew he was apprehensive. The engine spooled up and they were moving.

They were the first in. Twelve assorted aircraft dropping two hundred and four men. Michael went first and the two squad leaders followed. Roger was next.

Never liked jumping of an airplane that wasn't about to crash.

He pulled the cord and felt the reasurring jerk as the chute opened. The five or six minutes seemed longer, then he was on the ground. He disengaged from the chute, took out his pad and activated it. He was in a fairly tight group considering he was one of twenty-three men who had jumped. He moved towards a central point in the pattern, keying he mike as he did so.

"Panther Two," he said and waited.

"Panther One, about a hundred yards north of you. Thirty-five-thirteen-forty-one."

Roger adjusted his equipment and headed north.

The rest of the platoon was beginning to arrive when he got there. It would be a while as they had been dropped by four aircraft. Schneider was smoking a cigar as he approached. Roger decided to have one. He extracted his case and extracted one.

"Should take a few minutes," Sehneider said. "Fifteen at the outside. I hope."

The platoon arrived in about that time. By cigar time anyway.

"Alright men," Schneider said when all were present, "we're a five to six minute hike to the gate. You'll know when it blows - we hang back about three hundred yards until then."

After a few minutes he heard the whine of a flight of Dragonflies and and a few seconds later the area around the gate erupted in an impressive fireworks display.

"Let's go," Schneider shouted.

They had started when they heard the aircraft and were at the gates within a couple of minutes of the fireworks. The area was deserted. Probably any personnel in the area who weren't hit were headed for safety in the center. Or what they believed was safety.

The black-clad force was nearly invisible even as they moved into the light of the burning buildings. Roger followed Schneider and four men as they headed for Building 242. The prison.

There were no guards outside. The gate was down and they moved through. A pair of guards at the entrance fled as they approached.

Doors locked. Two men moved in and used a P44 to clear the locks. One kicked the doors open and they went in.

"This way," Schneider said, going down the center of three corridors. "We're looking for 400 rooms."

Their insider had advised them that the five men were in cells 401 through 405. The power was on and they found the cells easily enough. They were large and well lighted and looked comfortable. The men in the cells were up and standing at the bars.

"We're here to liberate you," Schneider said. "Stand back while we blow the locks."

The locks were blown and they were on their way out in a matter of minutes. Outside it was relatively quiet - an occasional explosion or burst of gunfire.

"You guys up for a walk?" Schneider asked.

"As long as it's out of here," one replied.

They led them group back towards the gate and out into the night beyond.

"Chopper coming in," Schneider said. He opened his commpad and looked at it. "About three of four minutes."

In about three or four minutes they heard the the old UH-1. It settled into the landing zone they had marked with flares. The prisoners were in good condition and were quickly aboard.

Lab animals are generally kept healthy.

The Huey lifted off and disappeared into the darkness.

"Let's get back and clean up," Schneider said. They jogged back to the gates.

It was quiet. One of the Ranger squad leaders met them. Jim MacDonald.

"All secure," he reported. "We've got about a hundred prisoners, about half civilian. We're looking for any in hiding but not finding many."

"Over a hundred dead?" Schneider asked.

"Dead and wounded," MacDonald replied. "A couple dozen of those. We've got them in that biggest building." "They're pretty demoralized just now."

Schneider's radio buzzed.

"Go ahead."

"Four Blackhawks headed your way. ETA fifteen minutes."

"Get out of here," Schneider shouted. "Head for the rendezvous. We'll hold it down here."

We being him and me. And Sakashi when he shows.

He watched as the egressing force passed, heading for the pickup point about a quarter of a mile away. Sakashi arrived a few minutes later with a couple of his men. He motioned them on to the pickup and stayed with Schneider and Roger.

"No casualties," he said. "How about your guys?"

"Couple of guys got banged up breaching the HQ," Schneider replied. "Nothing serious."

"Four Blackhawks incoming," said Schneider. "Figure forty troops. What have we got inside?"

"About that," Sakashi replied. "You want to try to evacuate the prisoners?"

"I'd like to get the civilians if we can," replied Schneider. "Let's see what the Dragonflies can do with them."

He keyed his radio.

"Delta Leader, you got the incoming aircraft?"

"Affirmative."

"Any sign of escorts?"

"Negative. I've got two units scanning."

"Smoke the choppers."

"Got it. Smoke the choppers. Stand by."

"That should give us time to get the prisoners out," Schneider said. "There's a lot of info in there."

Not many guys in the Army now that haven't made a choice. If you don't want to kill your fellow citizens better get out.

'Probably no survivors there,' he thought as two missiles streaked past. Then another and another. Like their comrades on the ground they had signed up for it - four fireballs not a mile away told the tale.

Roger Tindale
Angie	Roger's girlfriend
Charlie Reed	Red Mantis chief
Scotty	Roger's 1977 Chevy Scottsdale
Julie "Ginger" Barrett	Pilot in Echo squadron
Steve Johnson	Quartermaster at Charlie's HQ
Mark Turner	One of the Turner twins
Marie Turner	The other Turner twin
Oberon	Charlie's boss
Dragonfly	COIN aircraft based on the Cessna Dragonfly
Miyamoto Sakashi	Commander if Ninja 7
Michael Schneider	Commander of Ranger 11