Copperfox
Well-known member
With Dave piloting the single-engine plane, Emilio looked below as they passed over that area of the city which lay between the Merchandise Center and the storefront church. Suddenly he shouted, “Veer off!”
The Ranger leader shouted this because, in the streets below them, he had spotted some thirty men in camouflage uniforms of a design unlike anything used by Diversity State police agencies. They could not be other than enemies. Dave’s responsive evasion was barely in time. The hostiles on the ground had no rail guns or missiles with them, but small arms put holes in the plane’s right wing as it dodged to the left.
“The advance party must have called for more to follow by the same tunnels!” Without speaking, Dave nodded, and kept the plane on the far side of buildings from the Aztlano infantry, while Emilio called Natrona by cognitive radio to tell Brianna Wallace as much. Acknowledging this, Brianna asked, “Do we scramble the Condor?”
“Negative. Enemy presence in Casper not immediately threatening any vital objective, and we _must_ keep Condor in reserve. But have you got that rail gun I retrieved mounted on a truck yet?”
“Expect another fifteen minutes, counting time for charging its accumulator to power it.”
“Roger that. Can’t say if they plan to move against Natrona. They must know that the armored thrust failed. If no further orders from me, hold rail gun to defend airfield; but we might need to use it for counterattack in Casper. Try to raise other units in comms, find out if anyone’s free to converge on the city. Also find out what you can about any open movement of additional troops from the Colorado side.”
Emilio felt still more of the unremitting strain of trying to defend a large territory, with hardly anything, against unknown numbers of adversaries. Dave saw to avoiding enemy gunfire, while Emilio both watched the ground and listened for new reports on the radio. No good news had yet come, when Emilio _saw_ something that sparked hope.
Along a street which led in the direction of The Church of the Faithful, a group of people who clearly _weren’t_ Aztlanos was advancing. Emilio guessed them to be Grange volunteers; two had bows, anyway. Emilio couldn’t raise them by radio; but they had to have heard the shooting, so they would not be unaware of the enemy’s general whereabouts. A moment later, two more figures came into sight, on another street, where neither friendlies nor hostiles on the ground would yet see them. These two men Emilio could identify even from high above: one stocky and bearded, the other tall and very long-haired.
Even if there had been a place where Dave could land the plane right away, Emilio still had to try to keep the defenders coordinated. But he knew that Alipang and Henry would not be easy to ambush; and he could help them there. “Dave, give the gangsters another buzz, draw their fire, make them reveal themselves!”
Ranger Swims-In-Flood brought the plane low enough that, although passing at a perilously close range, it would only be in line of sight for a very brief interval. The gamble paid off: the latest firing by the enemy missed, and the direction Dave took was meant to distract them from looking toward either the first Grange group or Alipang and Henry.
= = = = = = = = = = = =
Neither Floyd Barrington and the four girls with him, nor Alipang and Henry, failed to recognize the light plane as one belonging to the Texan detachment; and they heard the renewed shooting. Floyd, not having spotted Alipang and Henry, judged it best to take his team on a wide detour; but from where the Filipino and the Apache stood, it was nearly a straight line to where Eric Havens’ cry of pain had come from.
Alipang might have tried to locate Floyd’s party first, if the agonized voice had been a stranger’s. But the distress of his adoptive father awakened in Alipang the fury and might of the ancient Moro blood which he had received from his otherwise-worthless birth father. Henry’s Apache blood responded to the same battle-call.
“Henry! I know the rear entrance to the church! You draw their attention in front, without needless risk, while I get around behind!”--and the Escrimador was on his way.
The Ranger leader shouted this because, in the streets below them, he had spotted some thirty men in camouflage uniforms of a design unlike anything used by Diversity State police agencies. They could not be other than enemies. Dave’s responsive evasion was barely in time. The hostiles on the ground had no rail guns or missiles with them, but small arms put holes in the plane’s right wing as it dodged to the left.
“The advance party must have called for more to follow by the same tunnels!” Without speaking, Dave nodded, and kept the plane on the far side of buildings from the Aztlano infantry, while Emilio called Natrona by cognitive radio to tell Brianna Wallace as much. Acknowledging this, Brianna asked, “Do we scramble the Condor?”
“Negative. Enemy presence in Casper not immediately threatening any vital objective, and we _must_ keep Condor in reserve. But have you got that rail gun I retrieved mounted on a truck yet?”
“Expect another fifteen minutes, counting time for charging its accumulator to power it.”
“Roger that. Can’t say if they plan to move against Natrona. They must know that the armored thrust failed. If no further orders from me, hold rail gun to defend airfield; but we might need to use it for counterattack in Casper. Try to raise other units in comms, find out if anyone’s free to converge on the city. Also find out what you can about any open movement of additional troops from the Colorado side.”
Emilio felt still more of the unremitting strain of trying to defend a large territory, with hardly anything, against unknown numbers of adversaries. Dave saw to avoiding enemy gunfire, while Emilio both watched the ground and listened for new reports on the radio. No good news had yet come, when Emilio _saw_ something that sparked hope.
Along a street which led in the direction of The Church of the Faithful, a group of people who clearly _weren’t_ Aztlanos was advancing. Emilio guessed them to be Grange volunteers; two had bows, anyway. Emilio couldn’t raise them by radio; but they had to have heard the shooting, so they would not be unaware of the enemy’s general whereabouts. A moment later, two more figures came into sight, on another street, where neither friendlies nor hostiles on the ground would yet see them. These two men Emilio could identify even from high above: one stocky and bearded, the other tall and very long-haired.
Even if there had been a place where Dave could land the plane right away, Emilio still had to try to keep the defenders coordinated. But he knew that Alipang and Henry would not be easy to ambush; and he could help them there. “Dave, give the gangsters another buzz, draw their fire, make them reveal themselves!”
Ranger Swims-In-Flood brought the plane low enough that, although passing at a perilously close range, it would only be in line of sight for a very brief interval. The gamble paid off: the latest firing by the enemy missed, and the direction Dave took was meant to distract them from looking toward either the first Grange group or Alipang and Henry.
= = = = = = = = = = = =
Neither Floyd Barrington and the four girls with him, nor Alipang and Henry, failed to recognize the light plane as one belonging to the Texan detachment; and they heard the renewed shooting. Floyd, not having spotted Alipang and Henry, judged it best to take his team on a wide detour; but from where the Filipino and the Apache stood, it was nearly a straight line to where Eric Havens’ cry of pain had come from.
Alipang might have tried to locate Floyd’s party first, if the agonized voice had been a stranger’s. But the distress of his adoptive father awakened in Alipang the fury and might of the ancient Moro blood which he had received from his otherwise-worthless birth father. Henry’s Apache blood responded to the same battle-call.
“Henry! I know the rear entrance to the church! You draw their attention in front, without needless risk, while I get around behind!”--and the Escrimador was on his way.
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