CO-AUTHOR'S NOTE:

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Bri Kupfer

&

Jye Meier

The cold grey clouds filled the mid winter sky as a six foot man walked the streets of Duluth. A chilly wind blew off of Lake Superior and constantly bit against the man's stubborn face. Long curly locks of brown yeilded to the wind, and moved beneath its force. Passionate grey-blue eyes tried desperately to hide behind their half open lids and the man leaned into the wind. He pulled his black suede gloves on even tighter and continued upon his walk.

He walked for a good half hour until, finally, he stood before a retired F-4 Phantom. The Phantom had large pipes protruding from its tailpipes which were planted firmly into the ground. The ugly plane longingly reached for the sky, the angle to which it was pointed sure to torture the poor aircraft for the rest of its life.

The man turned, and with a grim face, walked toward the large fence that stood behind the Phantom some two hundred yards away. The fading sun slowly retreated from the darkness, allowing the man to reach the fence unobserved. Pulling a pair of wire cutters from a pack that he carried, he silently cut a small hole in the fence and crawled through.

The Air Base was quiet. The man paused just inside the gate to try and determine if he had been detected. Satisfied to hear nothing, he slowly and silently made his way to the main hanger.

The snow was suprisingly powdery, and so did not make any noises as he approached the hanger. To either side of the large building, snow was piled up over the windows. Looking up, the man saw a great mound of snow hanging from the ceiling. The heat from the building was Melissating the snow and causing it to slide off. He hoped the snow would remain dormant and he picked the lock and entered the hanger.

Checking his watch, he noted the time and quickly made his way to a black F-22 which sat waiting infront of a large door. The plane's starter was humming gently, almost soothingly, as he approached. He checked his watch again.

"They'll know something's up soon!" he whispered to the plane as he ran his hands along it's smooth radar absorbing skin. Looking at the tails, a large National Guard symbol denoted this as the first ATF to be admitted to the Air Guard. He turned from the plane and rushed over to where a flight suit stood hanging from a hook. He quickly slipped into the perfectly fitting suit and zipped it up. Bending over, he sliped off his Colorado Hiking boots and put on the flight boots that were sitting upon the floor nearby. Checking his kneepad, he found course and mission information, as well as a personal message. Keying the pad quickly, he retrieved the message...

Wahren

Good luck to you tonight. Remember, I know nothing about what is happening.

Don't get yourself killed, and if you ever get the chance, keep in touch.

Caring,

John

He smiled a bit at that, and then erased the message from the flight pad. Standing up, he began to stretch his muscles when the door behind him slowly opened and then closed, and opened again.

Wahren turned to see a large man approach him. Two large letters of white adorned his left arm upon a black strap and a leather belt hung a .45 and a blackjack from his waist. He held a flashlight, which he shone in Wahren's face.

"You're pretty good Wahren, but you should have waited for me to open the door for you, cause you set off the alarm. It took me a bit to tell everyone that I could handle the situation alone."

"Sorry Gux, but I was just a bit impatient." Wahren appologized as he returned to his stretching.

Gux's large green eyes stared at his friend sympatheticly. Turning off his light, he went over to the sleek F-22 and checked the systems to make sure everything was ok. He felt tears well up in his eyes as he thought of what Wahren was about to do.

"You can still turn back and talk to someone about this you know." Gux said as he removed powercables from the external amplifiers and generators.

"I have to do it. If I tell anyone, they're dead...she's dead."

Gux nodded his head and removed the large staircase to the cockpit and replaced it with a smaller dicardable one. Time would be crucial when the moment came.

After finishing his stretching, Wahren returned to his bag and retrieved a knife which he stuck in a pocket upon his thigh. Pulling a Discman from the pack, he placed that in another pocket with two cords protruding from it. Pulling a box from the bag, he straped it to his knee and plugged the two cords into that box. He also plugged his helmet into the box. One free cord hung from the box, which would be conected to the radio in the plane.

"Like Iron Eagle huh?" Gux asked.

"Yeah, its corny, but I like it."

Wahren turned back to the bag and removed just one more item, a 9mm Baretta, which he put in yet another pocket on his flight suit. He took two extra clips also and stuffed them in a pocket. Then he gave the bag to Gux.

"Ok Gux. Here is my bag. You know the story and all that, right? You don't know me and you just barely saw me take off." Wahren looked the big blond man in the eyes and embraced the bear with a great hug.

"Will you be back?" Gux asked.

Wahren thought about that, and then replied, "No."

"Damn all laws, huh?"

"Yeah, but you remember to enforce them, no matter what!"

Gux squeezed harder. "I will!" He then let Wahren go and stood back.

"You will have about three minutes to get that thing going. It's warmed up and will only take about thirty seconds to get started. Don't hit the starter until you are strapped in and ready to go. Are you sure you're ready?"

"Yep." Wahren said as he grabbed the bag from Gux and tossed it into a corner. He then walked over to the plane and climbed up into the cockpit. Grabbing a peice of chalk, Gux rushed over to the plane and began to scribble.

When he was done, Wahren asked, "What's it say?"

"The Wolf." Gux replied grimly. "You take care of The Wolf. It's a multi-million dollar plane."

"Not to worry. I'll take care of her as if she were my own."

"She is yours. You're stealing her, remember?"

Wahren chuckled as he strapped himself in. "Yeah, I guess it is mine."

"You had better get going."

Nodding, Wahren turned and closed the canopy as Gux pulled the ladder from the plane. Throwing it on the floor near the plane, but away from the wheels, Gux saluted Wahren as the canopy sealed shut. Saluting back, Wahren reached down and engaged the starter.

The Wolf roared into life as Wahren gave it sixty percent throttle. The plane sat there idleing as Gux rushed over to the wall and slammed his fist upon a button. The door slowly began to open. Wahren quickly went through his systems. Everything checked out, as they did the first two times they were checked, and as the door finally completely opened, Wahren released his brakes and opened up his throttle to seventy percent.

Gux ran from the hanger as the plane advanced quickly forward. Wahren switched his HUD on and checked his navigation system to be sure that his waypoints were plotted into the computer. Satisfied, he selected the first waypoint and then taxied the fighter to the runway.

"I just hope Aaron can get that tanker in the air" Wahren breathed as he finally reached the runway and hit full afterburners to launch The Wolf into the night sky...

*****

"I dunno, Aaron, if we get caught...." Ryan whispers silently as they drive towards the Main Gate of Offut AFB in Aaron's Plymouth Horizon.

"Ryan, the operative word here is 'IF'", Matt reminds him from the back seat.

"Besides," David reasons, "Wahren's probably already airborne by now...."

All conversation ceases as the SP at the gate looks at the sticker in the middle of Aaron's windshield. The SP smiles at the carfull and salutes as Aaron eases the Field Mouse through the gate. A collective sigh of relief is breathed as the car passes the gaurd station, their first hurdle on this trip.

"Rank hath it's priveleges" Aaron mutters, glancing at the rank designation of Major on the authorization sticker, "Now for step two..."

"I don't understand why I have to be the scapegoat." Ryan mutters gloomily.

"Because, of the four of us, you're the only one with a line badge, remember?" David answers.

"Yeah, but did you guys have to wreck my car?" Ryan complains.

"We switched a pair of wires and removed some spark plugs. It'll live!" Matt remarks with an upward roll of his eyes.

Aaron eases on the brake as he comes up to the security gate surrounding the main apron.

"Showtime..." He mutters to Ryan.

Ryan puts on his best sheepish look and waves his line badge at the slightly bored Marine standing guard.

The Marine glances quizzically at the car, and, recognizing Ryan, waves them through to the AGE shop just inside the fence.

There, the carfull debarks. The foursome split into two groups. Ryan comandeers a Dash 95 bleed air cart, and hitches it up to a bobtail. David and Matt jump into the tractor with him.

Aaron dutifully raises the hood of his Horizon after pulling it into position beside Ryan's Daytona. He then raises the Datona's hood and proceeds to attach the jumper cables, all the while fixing what they had put wrong in the first place. This sets up a cover for the other three.

Meanwhile, Ryan drives the tractor down to the Alert '135, and hitches up the bleed air cart, which helps the engines to start up. David and Matt disappear into the '135. David starts up the engines and does a quick pre-flight run-up with Matt. Ryan disconnects all the AGE equipment, and climbs back into the bobtail, heading back to his shop.

There, Aaron has just finished with the Datona, and it is now running smoothly. Ryan drives it out to the main parking lot, beyond the fence, and Aaron follows him off the tarmac in the Mouse. At the same time, the KC-135 begins to taxi towards Offutt's main runway.

Ryan climbs back into the Field Mouse, and he and Aaron take off across the base, staying on the normal roads. After recieving clearance, the KC-135 takes off, the tower crew unawares as to what has just happened.

While all this has been going on, Adam, another member of this elusive group, has been preflighting a C-21A, commonly known as the Lear Jet.

He receives clearance to take off immediately following the '135. Alexander slips on board as his co-pilot. As the C-21 taxies on to the runway, Alexander walks aft and opens the entrance hatch. The C-21 gains speed as it accelerates down the runway.

With precision timing, Aaron rockets the Feild Mouse around the corner at 65 miles per hour, and presses down on the accelerator. The fence guarding the main runway is just ahead. The Field Mouse slams into and over the curb where the road turns away from the runway, becoming airborne.

As the Horizon flies through the air, it crashes into the six-foot tall fence, sending sparks flying. The Horizon plunges through the fence and bounces as it slams onto the runway beyond, leaving parts in it's wake.

Aaron twists the wheel of the Mouse to the left all the way, pulling both of the right side wheels off of the traction-giving pavement of the main runway as he does so. The Mouse is now less than 200 yards in front of the C-21, and Ryan opens his door as the speedometer plunges around for a second try. Ryan estimates that the little car is travelling at almost 130 mph. Aaron jams a two-by-four onto the gas peddle and against the drivers chair as he climbs out the driver's side window and on top of the car. As he is exiting the Mouse, he notices the tacometer showing the engine about to explode. Aaron and Ryan are now on top of the speeding

car, as the C-21 catches up with them. There is a loud "Scree" as metal connects with metal, the car rubbing against the aircraft. Ryan dives into the C-21. Adam realises he is running out of runway fast as Aaron grabs onto the doorway of the C-21. Adam lifts the nose of the aircraft inches before the end of the runway, and Aaron's feet leave the roof of the Mouse. Alexander and Ryan bodily haul Aaron into the Lear as the Mouse speeds between the end of runway warning lights and plunges the three hundred feet to the ground below.

The Mouse, because of it's tremendous speed and lightness, flies for 500 feet through the air, barely clearing Nebraska Highway 73-75 as it plunges into the forest beyond and explodes.

Ryan closes the hatch on the C-21 as it starts to gain altitude and the air starts to thin.

"Well Guys, for better or worse, here we go. Let's hope Morast knows what he's doing...."

*****

The F-22 slowly climbed above the ominous clouds as Wahren eased back on the throttle to disengage burners. A full moon greeted him as he arose from out of the clouds, its silvery rays shining down upon the Wolf protectively. Wahren checked his radar and found several blips just rising above ten thousand feet. They're after me, Wahren thought. He looked at his radar signiture and was satisfied to see that the signiture was too low for anybody to find him. He watched as four and then six and then eight planes arose into the sky. A thought struck him. Easing on the stick, he sent his highly manuverable ATF back into the sightlessness of the clouds. He could still fly by instrument, and really didn't need to see. His course was 125 degrees and he was flying at a low .8 mach.

He leveled out at twenty thousand feet and kept it steady at 125 degrees. His HUD showed him to be right on course.

It wasn't long before he crossed the waypont, which caused the computer to tell him he was going 180 degrees the wrong way. The green glare of the HUD shone in his eyes as he punched the next waypoint into the navigation computer. Turning the Wolf to the correct direction, he then proceeded due east for the next hour. Reaching into his pocket, he pressed play on his Discman, and heard the slow tunes of The Cranberries flow through his helmet.

*****

The large tanker slowly circled in a large arc over Nashville, the moon directly above it in it's zenith in the sky. A Lear Jet circled about two miles south of the KC-135, both waiting impatiently for their undetected friend. The clouds lay below them, inviting the planes' pilots to leap from thier aircraft to a soft bed of cotton below. The mass barked every once in a while, and sparked to show its fury when nobody plumeted from their planes.

"It's looking kinda black out there." Aaron stated as the KC-135 appeared outside his window, two miles away.

"Tell me about it!" Adam replied as he struggled against the growing winds.

"He has got to be crazy to try and refuel here in this mess." Ryan put in as he stared at the moon shifting its position in the sky.

"Nobody said he was sane." Adam said.

"We have to ask ourselves if we are sane to follow him." Aaron pointed out. He got a nod of aggreement from each and every person in the Lear.

"Do you hear anything on the radio?" Aaron then asked.

"Oh shit yeah!" Alexander suddenly shot out. "I hear two Eagles on patrol, and they want to know what the hell we're doing here!"

"We're on position for some Col. from Nellis." Matt was saying. "He is supposed to be flying a revamped F-22 up to New York. He's kinda late, but maybe he got caught in the storm. Over."

"I'm sorry tanker one, but we have no information about any approved flights in this area. Please straighten your course heading two-five-zero. We'll take ya down. Over."

"Why would he do that?" David asked as he leveled the plane out. "Has he seen our tail yet?"

"If he does, we're fucked."

*****

"Lear One, this is Eagle One-Four. Please set course heading two-five-zero. We have orders to escort you down." the radio cracked in Alexander's ears. He swore softly as he keyed the radio.

"Roger that, Eagle One-Four. Heading Two-Five-Zero."

"Well, so much for fleeing to the Triangle, huh?" Aaron stated gloomily as he watched an F-15 slowly approach the Lear.

*****

"Fucking A!" Wahren said as he watched the four blips slowly trail away from the waypoint.

"You always had a fucking lead foot Aaron!" Wahren thought fast. Checking his weapons, he saw two AMRAAMS and four Sidewinders neatly tucked away in their internal bays. He had 500 rounds of 20 mm cannon fire which seemed dangerously small to him. He was scared. The two Eagles were probably vetern pilots, and this was his first flight in such an aircraft. He had suprise on his side however, and stealth. "Either you two Eagles fall, or we all fall!" he vowed to the two blips as he jammed his throttle to the stops. He armed his

weapons, but decided to wait on opening the bays to cut down on radar cross section. He switched his radio channel and keyed it.

"Lear One, this is the Wolf, over!"

"Shit, I got him!" Alexander cried out as he keyed back.

"Roger Wolf this is Lear. What's your position over?"

Alexander put the radio over the loud speaker so all could hear. A staticy voice replied. "Ten miles north of your position. You guys are in hot water, huh?"

"No shit Sherlock!" Aaron replied a bit agitated.

"He can't hear you Aaron," Ryan pointed out, calm as ever. "There isn't any need to bust a vein over it."

"Roger that Wolf. I think they know who we are. Do you have any ideas?"

"I'll be short a couple of AMRAAMS in a couple of seconds!" came the static-filled reply.

"We might as well just jump now and be over with it" Ryan said calmly. "He'll probably hit us before he hits those Eagles."

"Plesant thought, Ryan." Adam replied. He wiped the sweat from his hands one at a time, his knuckles white from griping the wheel. "I fucking hate smartasses, and I'm surrounded by them. We're about to get shot down and everyone is fucking making jokes, which aren't very funny in the first place!"

"Oh, give it a rest, will you?" Alexander asked. "If you are going to die anyway, why worry about some stupid jokes and wisecracks?"

"Is Adam complaining yet?" the static-enhanced voice asked.

"We're dead." Adam said, exasperated.

"Tanker, this is Wolf." the speaker said. "Did you make it to the bathroom, over?"

"Yeah, David did, but I didn't need to go cause I think the Eagle is such a beautiful plane anyway!" Matt replied over the private channel. David was still connected with the Eagles so nobody would get caught with a sudden transmission.

"Yes, they are. Unfortunately, I'm going to have to make them ugly to get you guys out of there!"

"Just make sure you don't shoot them next to this tanker Wolf. It'll be the end of us all if you do!"

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that!" the radio crackled dumfoundedly. "Thanks for the reminder Tanker"

"Just looking out after my butt is all!"

"Fuck, we're gonners for sure!" Adam said quietly. His knuckles were still white from gripping the wheel.

"If we make it out of here alive," Aaron stated, wiping sweat from his brow, "which is highly doubtful since we are in Wahren's hands, I'll buy three rounds for everyone!"

"We're gone!" Adam said again.

His radar signiture was getting stronger. He didn't have much time before the Eagles would finally detect them with their powerful radars. Checking his speed, he was crusing about mach three. He kept his bays closed and continued to close on the two McDonald Douglas brothers of his F-22. His signiture jumped above the detect line, and he waited for the Eagles to respond. And they didn't.

"I've got him on radar now!"

A faint blip appeared on the green screen. It almost flickered and died, as if it were gasping its final breath, but it stayed visible.

As the blip came closer, it grew in strength until finally it had astrong enough signiture to lock a missle onto.

"Why hasn't he fired yet?" Aaron asked.

"I don't want an exploding Eagle on my left side, thank you." Adam replied.

"Oh yeah, they discussed that already, huh?"

"Will somebody please kiss my ass goodbye??" Adam cried out.

"It's all crusty. I would't want to kiss it." Aaron replied.

*****

The blip appeared upon the Eagle's radar screen, but the pilot wasn't expecting anything, and thus neglected to check his radar. He continued upon his course, hoping one of the two planes would fuck up some how and allow him to blow them out of the sky. He wanted the tanker. A couple of rounds from his Vulcan, and the thing would most surely ignite. His wingman was thinking the same.

*****

"What the hell is going on here?" Matt asked. "Those Eagle pilots must be rookies! That's a good sign for us, though I'm sure Wahren is more of a rookie then they are!"

*****

"They must be rookies." Wahren said aloud. He armed his Vulcan and heard it warm up. A faint wirr buzzed throughout the cockpit as he brought his sights upon the trailing Eagle. He was flying at over Mach three, and had only one try at this. As he approached, he lined his sights upon the engines, and quickly squeezed the trigger three times.

Three short bursts of twenty millimeter shells rocketed from the plane and easily found a home inside the engines of the Eagle. Wahren pulled hard on his stick as the Eagle's engines began to fade. The fly-by-wire of the F-22 exerted the maximum amount of G forces the plane's structure could take without snapping. The Wolf shot over the other three planes with a tremendous sonic boom. The three planes were rocked from the shockwaves...

"That fucking lunatic!" Adam screamed as he struggled to keep the Lear in flight.

"That's one..." Ryan said as he watched the Eagle slowly drift to earth. The pilot would land the crippled bird in a feild some place in Georgia.

"Let's hope it doesn't take him long to dispose of the next one!" Aaron said.

"I wish I wasn't flying a Lear, I wish I wasn't flying a Lear" Adam started chanting.

The first Eagle took up pursuit of the Wolf, suddenly jumping

into afterburners. Wahren turned his plane about and headed back toward the Eagle. He opened his missle bays and armed his AMRAAMS. He got a lock and fired one at the oncomming eagle. At the same time, he heard anominous lock warning. Looking down at his radar, he was a small object fly off from the Eagle. Looking up, he saw the missile flying toward him.

"Aw fuck!" he said as he closed his bays, jammed his stick

forward, and realesed two chaff and two flares.

The AMRAAM easly found it's target and exploded just milliseconds before striking the lower middle fusalge of the climbing Eagle. The Eagle suddenly went dead an started to plummit to the earth. The pilot pulled his ejection handle and shot out from the doomed plane. His chute opened easily and he gently floated to earth.

The Sparrow the Eagle had shot was not fooled by the huge chaff cloud the F-22 realeased, and didn't even care about the angrily glowing flares. It turned to the F-22's weak radar signature and stubbornly advanced upon it. Wahren looked back to see the missile gaining air space on the quickly moving Wolf. Wahren tried to make the plane move faster, but the throttle was already at the stops. He cursed as he began to perform evasive manuvers. The sparrow, however, continued to gain upon him. Wahren realeased another chaff, which the Sparrow ignored.

"Is it a super-missile or something?" Wahren asked quizicly as he performed more evasive manuvers. The sparrow still closed upon him. Wahren checked his radar an saw Tanker and Lear circling just miles west of where he was. His fuel guage showed he was dangerously low on fuel. He wouldn't be able to keep up afterburners for long.

"Fuck, I'm dead!" Wahren said as he faught to survive.

The missle closed to within ten feet of the plane, and slowly

grew closer. Wahren watched in fascintion as the missle came closer. Five feet. Three feet. Two feet.

And then the Sparrow began to nose down and fall. Wahren smiled andpulled up hard on the stick. The missle exploded harmlessly below him.

He reached up to wipe the sweat from his face. His eyes stung, but he didn't care. He was alive.

"Tanker, this is Wolf." Wahren said as he decreased his speed and

turned back toward the two circling planes. "I'm hungry and don't feel like hunting anymore. You have any milk for me, over?"

"Just get a nipple and suck, I've got plenty for ya!" Matt's voice replied. Wahren watched as the fuel probe was extended from the tanker.

"I wish I wasn't flying a Lear." Adam said.

"So, what's the plan, Cassinova?" Aaron asked as Wahren pulled up between the tanker and the Lear.

"Well, you are still going to the Bermudia Triangle, right?"

"Yeah. There is an abandonded base out there somewhere. They left it there cause it was right in the middle of the triangle. There are some old World War II planes there and stuff. Are you familiar with the island?"

"I think so." the radio cracked.

"So what are we to do now?"

"Don't even think of following me!" the radio snapped. "I know that you're thinking that. If I get out of this alive, then I'll meet you at the base. And don't forget to pick her and her family up when they release her. Take her back to the base too. You had better not follow me."

"Why would I do that?" Aaron asked innocently. "I have to pick Jessica up anyway."

"They won't let her go until they have this baby, and I don't need you to complicate things!"

"Who, Me??? Seriously, where are you going? I won't follow, I promise!"

"I'm flying to Siberia. They'll have a tanker for me when I cross over into Russian airspace and they'll have one for me over the Atlantic also. I should be able to make it."

"Those commies want that plane real bad huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so. But they aren't going to get it if I'm still alive. I'm off now. You had better not follow me. Make sure you pick up Jessica when you get that call. I'll put my plan into effect five hours after they release her. So you have that much time. Don't forget. Good luck Aaron, and if you don't hear from me..."

"Don't talk like that Wahren!" Matt scolded. "It's bad luck!"

"Sorry. Oh, and tell Adam I'm sorry about that Flyby. I'm sure he wasn't too thrilled about it."

"I'll manage." Adam said somberly.

"Good luck then, and I'll see you again."

The radio crackled and then went silent. Alexander turned off the loudspeaker, and set his radio set down. Everyone watched as the Wolf climbed into the clouds and dissapeared. All was quiet.

"I wish we could follow him." Ryan said.

"Well, you know...," Aaron said mysteriously, "Promises are made to be broken."

The Lear turned to a heading of 170 degrees and climbed into the clouds. The KC-135 quickly followed lead and the two planes headed off for the triangle...

As Adam turned the Lear to it's new heading, Aaron was already busy on the computer, and Ryan was on the radio, using a secure channel to call down to Edwards Air Force Base. On yet another frequency, Alexander was on the line to Duluth to talk with Wahren's Crew Cheif, Gux.

Aaron was listening to both conversations over two pair of earphones, using his hearing abilities to the utmost, and, once in a while, getting into the conversation himself, acting to fill in the gaps, as the Elite Eagles scramble from their respective bases around the country.

He distinctly hears the key element of Alexander and Gux's conversation he had been waiting for.

"Gux, were you able to place the Item on the Wolf?" Alexander asks.

"Better," Gux responds, "Wahren doesn't know it, but he's practically sitting on it. It's in the front gear well."

"Perfect," Alexander congratulates him, "and it's frequency is....?"

As the answer comes over the line, Aaron types two words into the computer in front of him: SITUATION ECHO.

Ryan winks at Aaron across the cabin of the C-21. "Raven Eye is ready." He mouths.

"Let's do it, folks........" Aaron comments, starting yet another round of calls off. Ryan has his contact list, with four names, Alexander's has three. Ryan scratches off the first two and starts calling on the third. Alexander scratches off the top name on his list and hunts for the proper frequency for the second. Meanwhile, as the C-21A cruises over Tennesse, Aaron lifts a cell phone from the console in front of him, and dials a special number known only to him. Seven miles below, a phone rings....

*****

Mitch sets down the handset on the two way radio in front of him, and turns to his partner, now also his wife, Carmen.

"Well?" She asks.

"Echo...." He replies.

"Shit..." Carmen mumbles, and calls down to the hangar, where the NASA technicians that serve as a ground crew warm up SR-71A 844, which is being used for high atmosphereic reasearch work. She picks up her flight suit and heads for the door.

Mitch picks up the handset.

"Raven Eye set, out 1 Vyper." He says into the set, than hangs it up and turns off the radio. He grabs his flight suit and dashes out the door after Carmen.

*****

Matt Hunter walks into his quarters at Nellis AFB after a strenuous day of wringing an F-16E, formerly known as the F-16XL, out while showing some rookie F-15C pilots just how dogfighting should be done. As he throws his flight suit across the couch, he noteces a little message jutting out of his fax machine. It says, simply, "SITUATION ECHO". Matt fires up his computer and boots the software Aaron had sent him last year. At the prompt, he enters his Codename, "Shaba". There he gets a full readout on the situation, as Aaron had typed it in while in the Lear an hour before.

Matt types a response: ShadowHawk 2 Ravenloff stopoff 3 tri"

*****

Doug blinks as his beeper goes off while on a training sortie. He shuts it off, making a mental note to check it when he lands.

After bringing his AH-66 SeaCommanche in for a perfect landing on the deck of the Maine, Doug checks his beeper. SITUATION ECHO.

"Right." Doug mumbles under his breath as he walks belowdecks to his quarters, where a message from Shaba awaits him. Doug climbs back to the top deck and warms up his Commanche, heading for Missouri, the state.

*****

A secure phone rings on a corner of the President's desk in the Oval Office. A slender hand reaches over and flips on the scrambler as the phone is lifted.

A tired voice is on the other end of the line.

"Immortal, this is Vyper. Flash message from Valder..." the voice begins.

President Stacy Anrak's eyes widen as she is informed of the situation that is unfolding over her nation that very instant.

*****

The REB-36D sputters and coughs as Suzanne tries to start it up in the desert heat of Davis-Monthan AFB, where it had been hidden after the war. Rae Ann curses and pounds on her console. The six turboprops roar to life. Shortly after that, the four jet engines hum into existance.

"Modern technology." Melissa mutters from behind them. Rae Ann grins back at her. Hera, Alayne, and Kristine complete the all-female crew of this awesome intellegence gathering vehicle. All had been called here for one reason only.......

*****

"Got 'im." Terry mutters over his shoulder to Eric and Scott, as the E-2C catches a faint blip on the frequency Aaron had sent out.

"Shit!" Eric mutters, "He's way the hell over Utah..."

*****

Wahren roars over Utah at over Mach 2, oblivious of the tail he has picked up. Half the reason for that could be that the SR-71 is quite stealthy in it's own right. Another could be that the '71 was actually more in space than it was in Earth's atmosphere. He also is clueless as to why no aircraft have been trying to intercept him. He doesn't know that a Presidential order has been sent against that Idea. His mind is concentrating on one thing only.......

*****

The Lear sets down at a remote base in the Triangle, along with the KC-135. Within three hours, more aircraft start arriving as the ETF assembles. A B-2A, the REB-36D, an F-117F, and an S-3A complement nicely the P-38s, P-51s, P-40s, B-17s, B-24s, F-4Us, B-25s, and even an F-82 Twin Mustang and an Me-262 Swallow. The Eagles go to work on these aircraft, seeing what works and what doesn't. All the while, Aaron can keep in touch with the SR and the REB, which is now aloft, both keeping tabs on Morast, the '71 at close range, and the '36 using passive radar while still in the triangle.

*****

Meanwhile, Wahren sets the '23 down in a remote strip of desert, where he has secreted away more fuel and armorments. After feulling up and re-arming, he takes off once again towards his destination....

The Pacific is peaceful as he supercruises over it at nearly mach three. Wahren glances down at he radar every once in a while to be sure he hasn't picked up any sort of tail.

"It's not like they would be able to catch me!" he knows that the only plane capable of catching him is the SR-71, and that awesome bird is retired. "I guess I'm safe, for the time being."

Checking his navigation computer, he notes that the next waypoint lies in Russia. It's about forty miles away. Wahren flips a switch.

*****

"Oh fuck!" Mitch exclaimed as the huge radar boost from the F-22 blasted through the Blackbird's systems.

"What's the problem?" Carmen asked.

"Wahren just turned on his active radar. I suppose he has to give the Ruskies something to find him with."

"Yeah, I suppose." Carmen replied as she got on the radio to Aaron.

"So that's how they are going to find him huh?" Aaron realized as he recieved Carmen's transmission.

"Yeah, I suppose so. I would guess that they are going to send a plane up to intercept him, and then escort him down visuially."

"Why not radar?" Ryan asked.

"Cause the Ruskies don't have all that good a radar anyway, and since the Wolf is kinda stealthy..." Aaron replied.

"We'll keep tabs on him until we land." Mitch stated. What are you going to do about his woman?"

"Don't you worry about that!" Aaron replied. "We have a P-38 all fueled up and ready to go. We'll get her. I we don't, Wahren would never forgive us."

"And dead or not," Mitch said dryly, "I don't want to be on his shit list."

"Yeah, really!" Aaron responded.

"Smooth as a baby's butt." Wahren said as he saw a blip appear on his radar as he crossed over into Russian airspace. As long as he's got his radar on, he might as well use it. The Russian SU-27 quickly cut the distance between them, and was soon on Wahren's tail.

"American pilot" came a russian thick english over the raido. "This is Col. Borris Konvenkiev. I am ordered to escort you down. Over."

"Roger that Col." Wahren keyed. "This is Wahren Morast, and I'll follow you down. Over."

"Turn to course heading two-seven-zero, and decreses speed to .8 mach."

Wahren eased back on his throttle and slowly turned his plane to head directly west. He switched on his ILS system and waited for a guidance beam to direct him in.

"You are cleared to land on Runway three." Borris said. Wahren looked down to see his ILS screen light up. Decreasing his speed, he clumsily directed the F-22 into the ILS beam. It was not long until he could see the runway. He lowered his landing gear, hit his air brakes and slowly brought the nose up.

"I could never land anyway." Wahren smiles as he suddenly pitched the nose down and slammed the poor Wolf into the runway. Her landing gear snaped beneath the plane and caused her to slide upon her belly down the runway. He jammed his throttle forward and gripped the stick tight as he was hurled down the runway. He jammed his stick every which way he could and pushed every button and turned every knob he knew. The plane caught fire. Wahren pulled back on the trottle and hit the emergency controls to extinguish the fire as he rushed past the end of the runway and finally came to a stop in a huge snowbank. He heard the extinguisher working hard to put out the fire. Looking about, he saw several troopers rush out to greet him.

"Oh yay." he said as he sat back in the now mangled and sizzling cockpit in exaustion.

*****

"I lost the becon!" Mitch swore as the blip on his radar screen faded out of existance.

"Do you still have his radar?" Carmen asked?

"No, that's gone to. I haven't got anything!"

"Well, then he was either shot down, or he crashed."

Mitch though about it. Turning to Carmen, he opened his mouth to say somthing.

"He scraped it, I'll bet." Carmen stated for him as she turned the SR-71 back the way they had come. Their fuel was low, and she needed to get back to a tanker or risk downing her beautiful bird.

"Mark the airbase, and take a couple of pictures if you can get any off. I'm sure Aaron will be happy to know what it looks like down there."

As the SR-71 passed back over the Russian Airbase, Mitch took several pictures of the runway and surrounding facilities. He noticed a dark spot just past the end of the runway. Fliping to infrared, he also noticed alot of heat emminating off the spot. Taking a couple more pictures, he flipped the camera off and noted the location as the SR-71 rocketed back into international airspace.

"Yeah, he scraped it." Mitch said as he transmitted the pictures he had just taken to the Triangle.

"We'll I'll be fucked." Aaron said as he examined the feedback from the Blackbird. "Let's enlarge this little dark spot here. I'll bet money that's our boy."

Doug highlighted the dark spot on the moniter and hit the enlarge button on the screen. The picture was enlarged to ten times its normal size. Though fairly blurred, the distinctive shape of the Wolf was recognizable.

"Is this the best the Marines have to offer?" Aaron fumed as kicked the computer desk. Can't we get a better image?"

"If Mitch could take good pictures, yeah, we could get a better image, but Mitch never was very good with the camera." Doug replied. "It's him though. After all, who would be crazy enough to wreck a perfectly good plane like that?"

Aaron looked at Doug and opened his mouth.

"Wahren is the only person I can think of." Matt said first, his voice muffled by the huge sandwich he was stuffing into his mouth.

"Bingo!" Doug said.

*****

"You crazy American fool. What the hell were you thinking out there?" The man was large and clean shaven, which caught Wahren by suprise. He had always had this vision of Russians having huge beards. This was, however, not the case. The man shoved him into a room and slamed the door closed behind him. He swung a mighty hand about and struck Wahren across the face. Wahren fell to the floor, dazed.

"The Fly-by-wire system malfunctioned on me!" Wahren replied dazedly as he shook his head to clear it. Blood trickled from his mouth. "There was nothing I could do!"

The big Russian kicked Wahren in the ribs as he tried to get up, yet again knocking him to the floor. "Well then, if American equipment is not so good, then I'm afraid that we won't be able to contact our Russian comrades in the States. They will, unfortunately, kill those wetook

hostage. I am so sorry." The big man laughed in his face as he turned to leave.

"Fuck you, you bastard!" Wahren said in anger as he lept from the floor to attack the big man. The Russian simply turned and knocked Wahren back to the floor.

"Fuck you, no?" he laughed as he left the room.

"We'll see who is fucked when I get out of here." Wahren whispered as wiped the blood from his mouth. Stripping his flight suit off, he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a little knife. He put his flight suit back on and began to work at the door. "I'll teach you for taking my CD player, and for not keeping your word and for hitting me three times and..." he continued, the sharp little knife slowly working away at the wooden door.

He worked late into the night until he finally got the door free. A guard burst into the room from the noise he made and found the little knife stuck in his eye. Wahren shoved his hand into the guards screeming mouth and watched him silently die. The guard bit hard into his hand, drawing blood. Wahren, however, never noticed as he aquired the guard's weapons and equipment. Closing the door behind him, he crept from the room silently and made his way out the building and to the hangers.

All warmed up on the taxi line was an unoccupied Su-27. It was fully loaded and ready to go. It was also several hundred yards across open air field. He would never make it on foot.

"Boy, I sure could go for some air cover right about now!" Wahren said as he thought about how he would get to the plane. He wiped a tear from his face as he thought about Jessica. He wondered how she had died, and if she would ever forgive him.

"These bastards will pay for what they did to her!" he swore as got ready to dash across the airfield. Setting he footing, he got his AK-47 cocked and ready.

And then the sky fell down about him.

*****

The phone on the nightstand rang in the little house on the outskirts of Braemar, Tennessee.

Aubree reached over and bashed the alarm clock. Then she realized that it was the phone that was ringing. As she picks up the phone and answers a groggy "Hello?" she glances at her watch. 1745. Johnt. She must have dozed off again.

"Aubree? Johnt, it's about time, I've been paging you for the past two hours" Aaron remarks over the phone.

Aubree manages a grimace. "Sorry, turned the damned thing off." She mumbles.

"Well, at least you're awake now. Listen, Dear, I've got a little problem on my hands at the moment, so I'm going to have to postpone that visit until next week, if things calm down by then." Aaron explains.

"Why, what's happened this time?" Aubree remarks, suddenly alert. It took a lot to drag Aaron away from one of their visits these days.

"Oh, Wahren went and got himself in trouble again. I'll explain when I see you next week, okay, kid?" Aaron queries.

"Well, okay, I suppose, but you'd better plan on staying down

here a while this time to make up for it."

"If I ever promised you anything when we started this, I promised you my life. You can have me all to yourself as soon as I get back." Aaron promises, "That is, as soon as Wahren, Doug, John, and Suzanne leave. They plan on coming down with me when this is over." He amends.

"Well, hurry up then, I don't have all year." Aubree replies.

"The faster I'm done here, the more time we have." Aaron responds.

"Yeah, well, hurry anyways."

"Smartass."

"Well, I love you too." Aubree retorts.

"Hey, you're the one who agreed to For Better or for Worse, remember."

"So did you."

"Yeah, I shan't forget. My flight is leaving, I've gotta go. Love.."

"You Too."

*****

Aaron hangs up the cellphone at the HQ building of Shemya AFB as the massive vehicle outside winds up. The NAS ENTERPRISE flips on it's newest feature, a modified sort of JATO, and leaps into the sky. Aaron races to his F-89 Twin Mustang and takes off in pursuit off the aerial base. The ENTERPRISE has just gone through a total refitting to bring it up to the standards of today's military. It is now covered in a light blue paint scheme that blends it beutifully in with the sky, and it's engine noise has been reduced to almost nothing. It has had radar dampeners stationed around the fuesalage and wings, and the landing bays have been reconfigured. The military had learned from WWIII, and had incorporated that knowledge into many of their refurbished aircraft.

As the massive vehicle passes out of American airspace, the REB-36D comes to roost on the main deck. Red lights flash throughout the humungous aircraft, and the re-united members of the ETF rush to their aircraft. Aaron looks around as he climbs out of his Twin 'Stang.

Aaron stops Doug as if just noticing something.

"Hey, Doug, where are Matt and Terry?" He asks.

Doug looks clearly puzzled as he asks, "Aaron, you all right? You know they've been dead for damn near nine years."

"But, then...who answered my call out to Shaba on the ETF server?"

"Same guy who asked me to meet him at Whiteman. Matt's eldest son, Aaron M. Hunter, he prefers to go by his middle name. He's an instructor at Red Flag."

"Yes, I remember now, Matt did have a family at the beginning of the war, how could I have forgotten? But that still leaves Terry. He was on the E-2C with Scott and Eric, they sent us the first reports on Wahren's whereabouts."

At this, Doug's eyes fairly bug out of his head.

"Aaron, man, we get done here and you need to see a shrink bad, man. Eric and Scott died in that airshow accident last month, along with Kristine and Theresa. Besides, there are no E-2Cs in service anymore."

"Doug, Kris isn't dead, ask Suzanne, she was navigating on the '36D."

Doug tilts his head as if pondering.

"Sounds like we've been getting a little help from our friends....." He remarks. Then, thinking it through, "Aaron, do you believe in angels?" He asks.

"I don't see why not, I've been married to one for the past eight and a half years."

"We'll continue this discussion later. Right now, I have a mammoth of a muthafucker to go fly." Doug remarks as he heads off to the bridge of the ENTERPRISE.

"What is wrong with me?.." Aaron mutters as he walks back towards the Twin Mustang.

Two decks lower, Matt, Alexander, and Ryan were applying the finishing touches to the B-2D Spirit they would be flying for this mission, the Ravenloff.

Suzanne and Hera finish their walk-around inspection of the '36D as they prepare it for launch. This time, the big bird is carrying more than just Recon equipment as it is attached to the ENTERPRISE's main catapult.

Great, it's over, the sky is falling Wahren thinks to himself as he looks up. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a black, boomerang-shaped object appears out of a section of apparently blue sky. As this vehicle launches and swoops towards the airfield, a smaller shape is materialized out of thin air. Following that is a huge aircraft that looks like black B-36, also seeming to just appear.

As the B-2 and REB-36 start raining bombs upon the hapless Russian base, Wahren dives for cover on one side of the runway, muttering, "Be careful what you ask for next time....."

Wahren runs for the Su-27, dodging shrapnel as he does so. One Cluster bomb explodes almost on top of the Flanker, and Wahren is sent spinning into the dust. "Fuck" He mutters as he brushes himself off.

Wahren watches in amazement as the small dot grows into the form of an F-89.

The Twin Mustang lands on the total opposite side of the runway from Wahren. Aaron climbs out and starts to rush towards the Russin HQ building. He suddenly stops and, turning around, hurls a rectangular object at Wahren. On it are taped instructions. Aaron rushes into the HQ building.

Wahren grins as he reads the instructions taped to the Walkie-Talkie.

He presses the only red button on the damn thing and Suzanne's

voice answers.

"Be right there." She responds.

Wahren quickly unfolds the two prongs at the back of the device, and snaps the CO2 cartridge into place as the drone of six turbofan propellers increases.

The REB-36D lines up on the runway and comes in as if to land. Flaps extended and Gear down, the '36 creeps closer. A yellow access ladder unfolds in front of the forward landing gear.

Wahren grimaces and points the contraption in his hand at the middle rung of the access ladder.

"God I hope this works." Wahren prays as the '36 passes overhead.

With a loud "Shhhhhhzzzip" the CO2 cartridge fires the metal grappling arm at the massive bomber. It wraps around the bottom rung of the laddr with a resounding clang.

At the same time as he fired the cartridge, Wahren, in one fluid movement, attached the main body of the device to his belt.

As the nylon zip cord draws tight, Wahren is yanked off his feet and into the air as Suzanne gains altitude. Wahren fiddles with the contraption at his waist and soon has a mini-winch hauling him in towards the large bomber. Wahren reaches the access ladder and climbs it into the cockpit of the bomber. Suzanne retracts the landing gear as Wahren re-folds the ladder into it's proper in-flight position.

Meanwhile, Aaron had rushed towards the HQ building. He finds what he is looking for and staggers out the door of the Russian HQ, trying not to retch. He was definately NOT looking forward to telling Wahren about this.

As Aaron gets within thirty feet of his ancient Mustang, a grenade is lobbed in his direction. It soars over his head and bounces twice before it rulls underneath his ride home.

Aaron dives for cover as the Twin Mustang becomes one giant fireball.

Aaron reaches into his flightsuit pocket and brings out a transmitter.

"Doug, I could use a lift. Ravenloff, some supression would be nice right about now."

As per these instructions, the B-2D roars in at twenty feel,

obliterating the HQ. That stops the firing for a while.

Then it appears as if a section of the sky really is falling as the ENTERPRISE lowers itself straight down. Alert Su-27s are starting down the runway as the massive carrier comes to a heavy rest on top of them with a sickening crunch. A small entry hatch appears in the giant side of the feuselage as Aaron sprints towards it. Doug starts lifting off even before Aaron fully reaches the Enterprise, and as a result, Aaron has to jump with every ounce of strength he has to grab on to the edge of the hatchway.

"Not again." He moans as Mitch and Adam haul him into the enourmous air station.

*****

"Wahren took the news rather well, Aaron", Ryan remarks as the duo dive out of Wahren's quarters, barely being missed by a thrown easy chair.

"Unfortunately, he's just getting started. Let's get out of here." Aaron comments as glass shatters in the room.

"Wahren, stop it!" yells a female voice as more furniture is hurled. "For chrissake, it was only a CD player!!" Jessica finishes as Wahren puts yet another hole in the wall with his fist.

"If I ever see that sunuvabitch again" Wahren seethes as he slowly regians what little compusure he had to begin with.

*****

The radio turns on suddenly. Journey's hit song, "Faithfully" fills the room.

Aaron opens first one eye, then the other. He looks over at the radio/tape player/alarm clock on the nightstand beside him. 0600.

"Ungh." is all Aaron can manage at first. Aaron looks at his digital watch. The date blinks at him...August 13, 2013.

Flashes of his dream come back to him.

"Mind wanderings produce strange fruit...." He mumbles. Aaron looks at the copy of his resignation sitting on the desk. Stacy had taken it rather well, he thought, remembering the scene yesterday as he had walked into her office to tell the President that his family needed preference over his job of National Security Advisor. Probably the fact that he already had picked out and trained a replacement had helped. Still, it would be nice to get back to Tennessee.

Another flash of the dream comes back to him. "Strange," Aaron thinks, "Why was the whole thing centered around Jess? She died years ago, during the big war. Some drunk driving accident while Wahren was on TDY....Wierd..."

Shaking off the strange dream, Aaron picks up the phone on the desk. His fingers dial without his mind, so many times had he rung this number.

The sultry soprano voice, albeit groggy, answers the phone.

"'ello?"

"Hey, Gorgeous, I'm on my way home."

"Good....Hurry.." She mumbles at him.

"Always. See ya in a couple days. I'm gonna pick up the Ram, and Wahren, John, Doug and Suzanne are coming with."

"MmmmHmmm."

"I'm coming home to stay, this time. See ya soon."

"Love ya"

"You too, eternally......"