| From: | "Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.DEMON.CO.UK> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | Morning Comments |
| Date: | Fri, 22 Aug 1997 22:00:07 +0100 |
>>>>>[TO: SIGA Archive
Still no Ghost.
+++++begin video
The sun is just over the horizon, struggling to burn off the ground
mist. Lynch follows Lilith out of their trailer, walking along the
duckboards towards the hangars and flightline. Running feet behind them,
and he looks back to see Arashi in a grey tracksuit catching them up.
"Figured I'd keep you company as long as I could." The Ares pilot grins.
Lynch returns the smile. "I take it Jenny can't make it?"
"Not that Jenny's much for getting up at dawn to go running, but MAX is
sulking. Something about MAX reconfiguring the system to have Bellman
read as 'Foe' on IFF interrogation, despite best efforts to convince her
otherwise. Amazing... Bellman even managed to piss off an AI. Jenny's
trying to coax her out of it, or that's her story. Yeah. That guy
surprises me."
"Why?" Lilith enquires: she's striking in white Lycra, to her husband's
BDU trousers and combat boots. Both are carrying olive-drab bundles.
"How can anyone be such an asshole and still hold down a job?" Arashi
shrugs. "I know, I know. He only mouths off to those out of his chain of
command or subordinate to him. Anywhere his superiors can hear him, he's
the motivated enthusiastic team player, and anything he does is just
high spirits from such an exceptional pilot. Which, sadly, he is, at
least for engineering evaluation, but he's got damn all combat
experience. And yeah, it riles me that I've fired shots in anger, got a
kill, he hasn't, and he's still copping a 'tude. Plus he doesn't even
_try_ to get stick time in the combat simulators..."
"Whereas they need a prybar and a chainfall to get you out of them: got
it in one. Who said Government or military service was any different to
corporate life?" asks Lynch philosophically. "Don't get Matt started on
image against performance." Arashi loses her rhythm and falls a short
distance behind. She seems like she is going to say something, but then
thinks better of it and lets it drop, catching up a few moments later.
Blade is waiting by the aircraft, wearing a "Dogs of War" T-shirt and
running shorts. As the trio approach, he picks up a set of web gear,
buckles it around his waist: slings his M22 rifle, carefully adjusting
its ride. Lilith is doing the same with her AK-47, Lynch with a FN-HAR.
"You guys run in that stuff?" asks Arashi, slightly bemused. "Rifles,
web gear, all that jazz?"
"Train like you fight." replies Blade with a grin.
"Sweat when you train, or bleed when you fight." agrees Lynch.
"What makes the grass grow?" enquires Lilith.
"BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD!" bellow Lynch and Blade in unison, before all
three burst out laughing. Arashi regards them as if wondering when the
vanload of men in white coats will arrive, before shaking her head
wryly. The quartet begin a warmup routine.
"Is that FN the one you swiped from the Feds?" Blade asks.
"Yep. They said I could keep it. My pay for the job, har har." Lynch
replies. "Got a lot of sentiment about the FN, and this one's lucky."
"I know what you mean." Blade slaps the receiver of his Colt assault
rifle. "You think, should I trade to an Alpha or a HVAR, and then you
remember where this rifle saved your life a few times, and you wonder
just how much better anything else might be..."
"Glad to see it's not just pilots who are superstitious." Arashi
comments, as they walk along the hardstanding, breaking into a run - an
alarmingly fast run - as they reach the taxiway.
"Hell, no." replies Lilith. "I have my lucky datalead. If I fly it's
with _my_ cable. Lynch has that old Python revolver, won't go anywhere
without it. Quinn has to have some Pegasus wings on her somewhere,
except the bitch insists on using silver ones which can be quite a
painful surprise for me."
"Pegasus wings?" Arashi asks.
"Parachute Regiment insignia. These two are UCAS reservists, Quinn's a
naturalised Brit." Blade replies. "Surpised me, too. Titles, peerages,
military connections, influential friends up the kazoo. What does she do
with all that potential power? Plots how to wear the shortest skirt
possible at Ascot. Coyote shamans, huh?"
"So explain something else." Despite the punishing pace, Arashi is no
more out of breath than her comrades. "I saw your headware stats, you've
both got clocks in your heads accurate to one second in umpty-squillion
years. So why the hell do you wear those watches?" Lynch glances at his
and Lilith's Breitling Aviator chronometers.
"Three reasons. One, habit." Lilith smirks. It's hard not to notice
she's grown her tail and a veneer of dappled fur, as she runs. "You get
used to timing the run-in from the IP on your wrist, not in your head.
Two, there's an emergency beacon built into the watch. Could be useful
in the right circumstances. Three, trade."
"Trade?" asks Blade. "Oh, let me guess..."
Lynch chuckles. "You got it, Matt. Behind enemy lines, some farmer's
spotted you... you want this expensive watch, you help me and hide me
from those soldiers. Turn me in and I'll tell them you've got it, and
they'll steal it anyway and probably rape your daughter too. Help me and
it's yours. Saved a good friend one time, it has to be worth a try."
"Makes sense." agrees Arashi. "I got mine because there's no room for a
cyber version. And... I don't know..."
"Tradition." suggests Lilith. "And four, my wrist always seems too light
without a watch on it." Lynch snorts with amusement, as they round onto
the secondary runway. All four are feeling the effort of their punishing
pace, and they fall silent for a while.
<sequence removed for brevity>
Arashi has dropped out, it seems: the others are slowing to a walk by
the row of parked aircraft. After a few moments to get their breath
back, Lynch asks "Biz, Matt. How's security?"
"Not bad." Blade replies. "Sasha's people are okay. Not top-line, but
motivated, skilled, competent. Good soldiers. Excellent teamwork, good
tactics. They don't need much from me, just a few pointers on drones. We
should be uprating that cannon to fire anti-air too, soon."
"Good. Keep an eye on the flightline. The Valkyrie's the obvious target,
but..."
"Yeah, anyone who wants to frag the mission will go for the fuel or the
MiGs and steer well clear of the superplane. Is that thing as good as
Hikaru says it is?"
"Yes." Lilith shrugs. "Hate to say it, but it's one shit-hot piece of
flying machine. Put an average pilot in it, and I'll take it in the MiG
no problem. Put a good pilot in it, and we're in trouble, Lynch and I
flying two-on-one couldn't beat Hikaru in the Valkyrie. Put anyone less
than excellent in the MiG, and it's meat on the table to the Valkyrie no
matter who's flying the Ares superplane. Thirty years of progress, Matt,
we can tinker with the avionics but the MiG is still old tech. Luckily,
here you still have me and Lynch in the cockpits, to redress the
balance."
"Yeah. Well, we can keep this base secure, it's going to need a hell of
a team to get close to the flightline. Outright attack, maybe mortars
from three miles, we can't do much about, but that's definite
escalation. Anyone doing that, is sending a signal right up to Atlanta."
Blade waves a hand at the row of grey MiGs. "Which doesn't mean it won't
happen, just that if it does we're talking crisis."
+++++end video
If there wasn't so much flying, this job would suck.]<<<<<
-- 1Lt J R W Lynch <21:59:42/08-22-58>
Strategic Intelligence Gathering Agency
