Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“Tactical error on my part.” Phoenix was furious at himself.

“Whatta ya mean? We’ll be catching up to them shortly.”

“Yeah, but I forgot to put in a relay string to maintain radio contact and cover range and progress.”

“Shit! I shoulda though of that, dammit! In fact, Kaiden should’ve thought of that before he hightailed it outta here!”

“Tippy, how ’bout you?” Phoenix turned to stare directly at Tippy Cup who was standing a few feet behind them, listening with rapt attention.

Tippy Cup’s face blanched when his name was called. “Never considered it, sir.”

“No problem, Tippy. Exhaustion creates mistakes. Such as ours. Uncle Larry here knows that. Smart man that he is, he recognized it and put us to bed with good reason. Now, we’ll make less mistakes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Stay sharp, Tippy.”

“I will, sir.”

“We ready to move?” The calm, predatory look on Phoenix’s face made Larry Reed and Tippy Cup eager to leave.

“All set. Log-sups got us cleared at least four miles out.”

“Give the order to decamp.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s make haste on this small matter, uncle.”

“Understood. We’ll get them.”

“Oh, I know. I’d just like it to be sooner, rather than later.”

“Anything, major? Professor? GT? Any radio contact?”

“No, ma’am,” said Major O’Malley.

“Nothin’, ma’am.”

“Nada,” said GT.

“Damn,” said the major.

“What’s the range to those radios?” asked Nicole, “Why can’t we communicate with your men?”

“Um, they’re quite limited air-to-ground, Nicole.”

“For real? I thought the army had radios that could do all kinds of fancy stuff.”

“Yeah, well. Not so much. Especially when they’re without a vehicle assist adapter.”

“Oh,” said Nicole. She tucked CJ further into the blanket and adjusted her headset at a better angle.

“We’re using the AN/PRC-148 Multiband Inter/Intra Team Radio or MBITR as it’s called,” said the major, “It’s NATO specs. Range is limited to about three or four miles.”

“I see. So it’s a bit like a poke and a hope to find them on the radio?”

“In current circumstances, well, yeah.”

“I see.”

“We’re coming up on a small, well-fortified town, ma’am.”

“How small, major?”

“It covers a few mile stretch of Route 51. Gates defending both north and south across the highway. They look solid. Active guards aware of our presence, pointing.”

“Careful, Professor.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thoughts, major?”

“We could drop in and ask ’em about the team. The team could or should be close by based on our calculations.”

“You and your fishing expeditions, major…”

“Yes, ma’am, though in this case we’re in a much smaller pond.”

“True. But, if the team was there, major, don’t you think they’d let us know? We’d be in radio range from here.”

“Good point.”

“What time is it?”

“16:25, ma’am.”

“They coulda made it here if they stayed tight on Route 51, ma’am.”

“Yeah, though we don’t know when the destruction back there involving Phoenix went down. They could’ve passed the town or avoided this town for that matter, got off the road.”

“We know that big hole on Brownsville Road was still smoldering so it wasn’t that long ago, Ma’am.”

“Yeah.”

“They’re around here somewhere even though we’ve got no radio contact.”

“Let’s hope. The current direction is on the way to the rendezvous at the hospital, anyway. What’s the name of the town there?”

“Map says Perryopolis.”

“Major, what do you—”

“Ma’am?” interrupted Shamus.

“Yeah, Professor?”

“I’d like to suggest we find a new fuel depot before we go much further. We’re coming up bingo fuel for our trip back to DC. We got about ten more minutes of fly time left besides that.”

“So no loitering, is that it, Professor?”

“No, ma’am, we can do what ever we need to. But, I’d like to see if we could locate some fuel for this bird. I like to keep my cushion.”

“He does like that cushion, ma’am,” quipped GT into the intercom, smiling.

“He’s a lover of cushion, aren’t you, Professor?” said Scott, laughing.

Shamus smiled at the reference. His lust for large-bottomed women during their times spent in faraway places was legendary. The men turned much more serious after glancing at the steely look in the colonel’s eyes. Quickly, they quieted down.

“Major? What do we have near here for fuel depots?”

“There’s a secondary airfield that used to be manned by the Air National Guard. That may be promising.”

“Excellent.” Colonel Starkes pulled her mission brief from her pocket and studied the pink FedEx paper, flipping to the secondary rendezvous section. Three potential fuel depots were circled and listed with exacting coordinates.

“Major?”

“Ma’am?”

“I see here that you listed three possible depots in the mission brief.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Take us to this smaller, Gallatin Fuel Heliport first before we try the bigger Air National. I’m hoping this smaller place, Masontown, had less people interested in bird fuel.”

“Yes, ma’am. Professor, set coordinates for the Gallatin Fuel heliport. And let’s hope there’s still something we can recover and stabilize for use.”

“Major, after we secure the area and refuel, we’ll come back here and check in on this Perryopolis.”

“Yes, ma’am. Professor, take a heading thirty-five degrees southwest. My calcs say we’re about twenty miles out.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s hope it pans out.”

“Professor?”

“Ma’am?”

“How far back are those brigades?”

“Fifteen or so miles, ma’am, give or take.”

“Major, do you think that Perryopolis could hold off those men?”

“No, not likely.”

“Ma’am?” asked Shamus, interrupting.

“Yeah, Professor?”

“We might make it back before the riders would make it here, ma’am. We might have some time before the extraction.”

“Well, that’s good news. Why do you say that?”

“Well, I think the riders are going to regroup around that crater we made for ’em. After that, they’ll bring the entire Phoenix army with them, that’s why,” suggested Shamus.

After further thought, the major nodded. So did the colonel. “Good point, Professor. Unfortunately, we cannot jeopardize our primary mission by running short on fuel.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Proceed to the Masontown heliport, Professor. Best speed. If time permits, let’s hope we can return to warn them. ”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The Superhawk roared past the small town of Perryopolis drifting a few degrees right and angling toward Masontown.

“The town snipers and spotters are moving, Mac,” said Marty. “They’re on the street with weapons shouldered.”

“Copy that, Surf Boy. BB, Rabbit, and Top, I want you to stand and reveal your positions. Weapons neutral. Walk slowly toward the gate. Surf Boy, maintain your position.”

“Copy that, Mac.”

John McLeod and Commander Del Re heard the entire conversation through McLeod’s radio. The massive gates behind them were opening slowly and the two men briefly glanced in that direction. When they turned to face north, three men were walking toward their position.

“Damn, John, where the hell were they?” asked the commander, impressed by the men’s expertise in concealment.