The CONCORDE:

A New Experience in Flight.

Big Ben tolled once, twice, then finally, six times. The alarm clock on the desk took over where Ben left off, chattering away in all it's electronic fury. Wahren slowly got up to his full height of six-three, wishing the hammer blows in his head would stop. He sighed blissfully as he shut the alarm off. Peace and Quiet. Wahren went back to bed, or tried to. Aaron walked into the room.

"Come on, Wahren, We don't want to be late. We are getting paid for this job after all."

Wahren was about to argue, but looked at Aaron's five-eleven frame, considered his own condition of the moment, and groaned. The job, this was how he came to get his splitting headache. It had all started two days ago, Wahren remembered as he walked down the stairs to breakfast, shaking his head of curly, dirt blond hair.

Aaron, Wahren, Kristine and Alayne waited on the capitol's lawn for their mysterious contact to arrive. Aaron had received a call this morning from someone from British airways, who wanted to hire his team for a job. They had been told to wait on the front lawn of the capitol building, under a certain statue.

"Steve Johnson?", asked a man coming across the lawn. He was really quite short only about four-seven, with thinning gray hair combed straight back over his head. He also wore glasses.

"Yeah, that's me.", Aaron replied nonchalantly, used to replying to the name listed in most states in the TOP SECRET files. Actually, the files in the Pentagon, and, therefore, most others in the country, were labeled: "Steven A. Johnson & Associates, Joint-Military Special Task Force", or "The ETF", or, in the case of the USAF's file, "The 137th Tactical Fighter Wing".

"I'm here to talk about the BA job.", the man continued, "would you follow me, please. Ladies." he motioned to Kristine and Alayne.

"Of course", Aaron replies, then, to Wahren in barely a whisper, "I've got a strange feeling about this guy, he's already sweating."

"I noticed, and it's not even warm out here, actually, it's a bit cold."

"And you were born where, exactly?", Aaron chides.

"So I was born in Minnesota. It's still cold out."

"I told you you shouldn't have worn shorts", Alayne adds, joining in.

"Hmmph" Wahren replies.

"Nice comeback." Aaron whispers.

The short little man led them across the lawn and in a side door of the capitol. They all promptly sat at a table obviously more suited to little old ladies than fighter pilots. The little man sat quite comfortably at the table with Kristine and Alayne, who weren't quite as small as the little man, but neither were they as large as Aaron or Wahren.

"Let's get down to business.", the little man began, taking off his spectacles and rubbing his eyes, "How about the figure of two million dollars for this job?"

Wahren's eyes light up immediately. Now, the ETF were a military organization, but only in the loosest sense of the term. The military only used them for special jobs, and if they could make a little money on the side, hey, that was okay with them, but they still had to clear it with the USAF.

"Oh, you're government's already agreed to the price."

Ahh, the magic words. Aaron thought.

"We'll take it.", Wahren replies automatically.

"Good, then here's what'll be involved......"

The next day, all twelve members of the team boarded a British Airways 747 to London. On arrival, they checked into their temporary lodgings, mainly speaking, eight dorm sized rooms in a RAF barracks. Luckily, they were the only people in their building.

After getting settled in, Wahren, along with Terry, Doug, Mitch, and Eric, so called mainly because of the color of his hair, decided to go look around downtown London. The girls declined to go. So did Joe and Aaron, which made seven behind in the barracks because they had picked up Carmen, Melissa and Hera along with Mitch, Doug and Eric. So, the guys found a local pub, and, needless to say, got smashed to celebrate their new wealth. (Normal military pay is not very high.) So Mitch, knowing his friends quite well, didn't drink anything, and was the only one in enough control of his wits to drive the guys back to the barracks. Hence the start of a few very bad headaches, for European beer is much stronger than the American equivalent.

After breakfast the team loaded into the van they had been loaned, and drove the fifteen kilometers to Heathrow International Airport. This was where their mission was to begin. They walked into the airport, showed the guard the British Airways credentials they had been given, and walked into the pilot dressing rooms. It was here that the team split up, going three different ways. Aaron, Wahren, and Doug went to the crew dressing rooms, for they would be the pilot, copilot, and navigator, respectively. Carmen, Alayne, Melissa, Kristine and Hera all changed into stewardess garb. Joe, Mitch, Eric, and Terry, however, were already booked as normal passengers, in different positions on the aisle. All twelve had weapons hidden in various places, a practice which had come in handy in the past. The group didn't have to worry about security, they used their credentials to pass the metal detectors without going through them. Joe, Mitch, Eric, and Terry went and sat with the normal passengers waiting for their flight as the others piled on to the waiting Concorde, the fastest commercial aircraft ever built. Now, let's take another flashback, to clear up some questions that are probably going through your mind......

"So, what exactly is the problem?" Wahren asks, not knowing if he really wanted the answer.

"The problem Capt.," Dave Brants replied, (They had learned the little guy's name.),"is that we have had threats from the Japanese, a little known terrorist cult calling themselves the Rising Sun, saying that they would steal a Concorde if we flew to New York for any reason. At first we didn't take them seriously, but once they learned we didn't scare easily, they killed the pilot and his navigator for the October 7th flight, which is carrying a school group who raised enough money to take a field trip to the U.S. We found the two at their homes, with knife cuts ear to ear. Same for their wives and kids. That, as you say, is the problem. We'd like you to stop them."

Kristine leaned over to whisper in Aaron's ear. "Sounds like a bad version of Arthur Haley’s Airport, if you ask me."

"Yeah, it is a little corny at that." He replies, then, louder, "All right, Mr. Brants, this is what we'll need for this mission........"

The passengers were all loaded and the doors locked. Aaron started the engines on the Concorde and slowly rolled the big jet out onto the taxiway. As he waited for clearance from the tower, he could feel the tension in the cockpit. They received clearance from the tower. Aaron positioned the plane on the end of the tarmac, set the brakes, and revved the engines. As he released the brake, the Concorde slowly gained speed, hurtling down the runway. Aaron turned to Wahren.

"So far so good."

"Yeah, let's hope it stays that way."

Then Wahren flipped on the intercom and started doing his intoned speech to the passengers and crew.

"Good morning Ladies and Gentlemen....."

Aaron half listened as he pulled back on the stick.

The Concorde lifted gracefully from the runway and into the air, shock waves of disturbed air billowing off it's wings. The Concorde looked almost swan like as she bit into the air above London.

Wahren broke off from his conversation with Alayne, who had come into the cockpit to tell them of the situation. Doug looked up as the cockpit suddenly got quiet. Aaron was angry, even impatient. They could all see that.

"Why don't they just do it?", he explodes finally. "This waiting is driving me crazy."

"I hate to admit it, but it's getting on my nerves too." Wahren admits

"Same here" Alayne adds.

"Then let's do something about it."

"Good idea Doug. Alayne, would you go back and tell the others that something big is coming up and to get in their seats and hang on!".

"O.K. But what are you going to do?"

"You'll see."

Alayne groans on her way back to the passenger area. She'd heard "You'll see" too many times in the past not to.

Aaron flips the intercom switch.

"Hello, Ladies and Gentlemen, I hope you are having a nice flight. I know that some of you on this plane are wound pretty tight right now, and I ask the ones of you that aren't one crucial question: Are you ready to face the Rising Sun and rock with the ETF?"

".....and rock with the ETF?" Aaron's voice drones over the intercom. "Oh, no.", groans Kristine, "now he's done it. He's forced the RS to show themselves."

"Let's get ready for a fight." Melissa warns, digging in her boot for a 9mm Beretta.

Hera nods at Joe, who signals to Terry, Eric, and Mitch. The signal comes back. They are ready.

Aaron reaches over and flips on the seat belt sign. Then he again turns to the intercom.

"Now, if some of you are mystified as to the meaning of that last announcement, let me clarify. I am the leader of a group. That group is the good guys, while the Rising Sun are the bad guys. Now, just call us the Eagles to make it easy." Aaron grins at Wahren, Who gives a thumbs up. ETF stands for Eagle Task Force. Aaron turns to Doug, who crouches by the cockpit entrance. Aaron turns back to the intercom.

"Now, to make it easier on everyone involved, would the Rising Sun please stand up and surrender?"

"Is he nuts?" Hera almost screams. "They'll never fall for that."

"Look again, Hera.", Melissa advises. Four men have stood up and placed their weapons on the floor. "Let's go round them up. But be careful!"

As soon as Hera and Melissa step into the aisle, three more men stand up and begin firing their weapons. Melissa is shot in the shoulder but manages to return fire. Mitch and Joe catch two RS members in a crossfire. The passengers, having a reasonable fear for their lives, have all gotten into crash positions. Alayne runs down the aisle towards the cockpit, shooting a RS member full in the forehead as he tries to stop her. Doug explodes out of the cockpit door, firing away with his .45. Alayne is hit in the knee not five feet from Doug, who drags her into the cockpit.

Aaron looks behind him as he hears bullets ring out. Doug is out the door and back in in a matter of two seconds. Aaron grabs the intercom and says two words into it.

"HOLD ON!" comes over the intercom. Carmen is in the middle of a firefight with a six foot RS member when she hears that warning. She dives to the floor and grabs a chair as the Concorde goes into a barrel roll, exerting 3.4 G's on the passengers. The unfortunates who weren't quick enough to heed Aaron's warning are dashed against the roof of the plane as he puts her into an inverted dive through 10,000 feet. Most of the ETF are able to grab support during the roll and dive, except for Mitch, who is rendered instantly unconscious by the ceiling. Luggage flies everywhere as the compartments pop open. There is also an eerie screeching noise as Aaron and Wahren fight to pull the Concorde back into a level position. They succeed, not 500 feet above the water.

The members of the Rising Sun that remain conscious readily surrender, once they are able to regain their footing. The others are tied up so that they cannot create a problem when they awake. The rest of the flight is uneventful, and Wahren lands the Concorde without much of a problem. Aaron has gone back to help the wounded, especially the members of his team, who are like family. As the Concorde lands, it is surrounded by ambulances and Police cars, for Carmen used the airphone to call ahead. The wounded of both sides are rushed to a hospital, as are many of the passengers, who seem to have developed problems under the G forces, while others seem to have contracted bladder problems. Only three of the Rising Sun did not make it off the plane alive, while out of the ten remaining, six were hospitalized. The others were turned over to the Police. There were ETF members hospitalized. They were Doug, Terry, Alayne, Melissa, Mitch and Eric. Aaron had his civilian pilot's license revoked.

"Some gratitude, you save the kids, you get the bad guys, and they revoke your license because of a barrel role." Aaron complains.

"Well, at least we can still fly military." Wahren remarks.

"Yeah, I guess so. Let's go see the guys in the hospital."

Three months later, after a review by the Pentagon

of the whole affair, the ETF was disbanded, and

the members went their separate ways, meeting

only occasionally and fading into the background.

To this day, they are still TOP SECRET, and some

people deny they ever existed.

THE

END

Written by

Brian R. Kupfer

and based on the characters created by

Brian R. Kupfer and Jye R. Meier

For their book,