Chapter 29

 

TWENTY-NINE

“Let the missile Kill you, or crash into the rocks. That much freedom I will give.” Colonel McKinsey Concluded the briefing, stepping back from his lectern and walking quickly out of the room. Trigger couldn’t help but have a snarl as the diminutive officer passed him. McKinsey was not only a hard ass towards the Spares, he was also one of the most inept officers Trigger had met in his albeit short military career. The man reminded Trigger of stories his father had told him, Certain Osean officers who during the Belkan war, cared more about earning medals than their troops. Many had found themselves fragged or relegated to desk jobs quickly after arriving on the front lines.

 

After the door was closed behind the Colonel, the Pilots stood up to formulate their plan. Trigger took point studying the topographic map.

“When’s step off?” Trigger asked one of the Guards. The slightly overweight soldier grunted shrugging.

“Well, aren’t you just helpful” Trigger said snidely.

“Eh give him a break, He probably hasn’t had chow in, I dunno, fifteen minutes?” Tabloid said, clasping Trigger’s shoulder as he passed by.

“Eh, who cares, at least they’re allowing us a chance to plan something this time.” Count replied.

“Like he said, We’re a valuable military asset. They actually think this lot is good for something. You know, other than dying.” Remarked Full band. Like Trigger, Full band was ex-Osean Military. An Intelligence officer who had been caught selling information to the wrong people.

 

Trigger brushed aside the comment, unlike previous missions, McKinsey had provided the penal unit with actual intelligence briefings on the terrain and potential enemy assets in the area, along with weather charts from the UMETSAT. His eyes darted over the cloud reports particularly. If McKinsey’s taunt were accurate, the clouds would at least provide them some reprieve from the dual guided Anti-air missiles.

“Looks like we’re close to scud running this one guys.” Trigger said, interrupting the bickering that had broken out between the pilots. “What do you mean?” Tabloid asked.

“Cloud tops at 4600’, hard deck is anywhere between five hundred to twelve hundred feet, gives us marginally three thousand feet to play with on insertion into the AO.” Trigger explained.

“Why not dive for the deck when we just get close by?” Asked one of the Spares pilots. Trigger dug through the packet of paper in front of him, picking out three copies of one document in particular and tossed them to the corners of the table. “Read it for yourself” Trigger instructed.

Full Band slumped forward on the table, leaning on his palms “It’s Erusea’s new Anti-air system. Command dubbed it the ‘Gremory’, I think the Eruseans had their own fancy name for it. Like Trigger said, its dual guidance, the Spy Satellites get the missile in the generalized area, and the Radar provides terminal guidance. They also have an effective range of about a hundred miles or so.” He explained.

“So why don’t they just use those all over the continent? Seems like its more effective than Stonehenge ever was.” Asked another Spare pilot.

Full Band shrugged. “Who knows, best guess is that its either too expensive, or too inaccurate for a full-scale air denial like that. Maybe a bit of both.”

Trigger smirked. “I though knowing things was your thing Full Band.”

Full Band “Hey, pay me enough, I can tell you what size of knickers that princess wears. But that still doesn’t change the fact I have no details on this.” Full Band said motioning towards the documents scattered across the table.

 

Trigger frowned. “I don’t quite like the idea of a fighter unit doing a Wild Weasels job.” He said slowly.

“Fucking deal with it.” Barked one of the Guards walking the perimeter of the briefing room. Trigger glared in annoyance at the interruption.

“Let alone, going in as a ten ship… Those valleys are probably crawling with triple A as well.” He noted, allowing the irritation to show in his voice.

Trigger started to formulate his idea. He clapped his hands. “Ok I got it.” He pointed at two of the newer pilots.

“Hex, Wally, you two take point, try to get them to load you up with as many Anti-ground missiles as we can load on your planes. Your both flying Rhinos so that should be somewhere in the ballpark of six Mavericks? How are you on the Targeting pods?” Trigger asked. “Better than average” replied Hex.
“Good” Trigger replied moving his attention Across the table, pointing to Count and Full Band.

“You two, your jets can handle the Wild Weasel task so you’re going to be on point for the anti-Radar mission” Trigger ordered.

“How?” Full Band asked incredulously.

“Both of your planes can carry four anti-radiation missiles, Full Band you have the HARM and Count the KH-31. Both literally designed for this kind of job.”

“Ok, and how do you play into all of this?” Count asked folding his arms.

“Simple. I’m going to be the distraction.” Trigger said bluntly.

“You are kidding, right?” Tabloid asked. “I know you wanted out of the Squadron, and granted, that’s one hell of a way to do it. But that’s suicide, even by your standards Trigger.” The Belkan asked exasperated.

“Look, the Eagle lightly loaded at max speed can outrun all of you, and certainly anything they throw up at me. No Offense but I’m the only one here who actually made it through fighter indoc-“

“Yeah, in a Viper maybe.” Full Band interrupted.

“-It doesn’t matter. I can push that plane harder than most of you can. It makes more sense for me to draw the fire for all of you.” Trigger concluded.

“Ok Fine, but where’s that leave the rest of us to do? I know math isn’t everyone’s strong suit but that still leaves myself and four other guys without a job.” Tabloid said.

“Fighter and ground sweep. Most of you have Superbugs so we are best off mixing it up between the groups. Tabloid can lead the fighter element with Hardball and Showboat. Gonzo is running Ground attack with Hex and Wally.” Trigger assigned.

“Sounds good.” Count said excitedly.

 

“What about all the motherhood?” Asked another pilot, Hardball, one of the many in the rotation of new faces that came into the Spare squadron constantly. Trigger was impressed the new pilot knew the term.

“Normal shit. We will load up on as many bags as we can carry to get there, and if we need to there’s Goldfein Air Base that’s friendly. I’ll let Bandog sort out the paperwork on that if needed.” Trigger explained.  “Anything else” Trigger asked.

“I’m good.” Tabloid stated, there was a murmur from the other pilots in agreement. Trigger smiled as he watched the pilots sort out their individual portions of the plan. Some of the senior pilots were advising the rookies on how to execute certain maneuvers in their jets, it all hit Trigger with a wave of nostalgia.

This is what is supposed to be like as a fighter pilot. He thought.

 

***

The mountain sides loomed in Trigger’s peripheral vision. The Spare’s flight into the AO had been largely uneventful. As they had expected it had been low lying clouds the entire way. As they approached the target, they had checked in with their AWACS, a caustic yet effective man with the callsign of Bandog. As far as Trigger and the Spare’s knew, he had been attached to the 444 Squadron as long as McKinsey had.

As they crossed into the mission area, Bandog broke radio silence.

“The enemy is watching from above, stay in or below the clouds to keep hidden. That means, no missiles, even you lot should understand that.” Bandog derided.

“Talk about an enclosed space.” Count remarked.

“Whats more enclosed than Solitary? Commence Operation.” Bandog Ordered.

Showtime Trigger thought as he waggled his wings. That had been the Spare’s predetermined signal to break off on their assigned tasks.

The mountain valley came to a fork ahead of the Spares.

“That’s your target radar, Destroy the AAA around it too.” Bandog advised.

Trigger watched as Hex’s team, Count, Full Band and Tabloid broke off of his formation.

Once the jets were clear, Trigger pulled back hard on the stick and slammed the Throttle forward into afterburner. The canopy was obscured for the briefest moment in a sheet of white as Trigger’s F-15 screamed through the cloud deck.

 

A serene blue sky was painted out before him. The snow-capped granite mountain faces peaked out of the clouds like islands.

 

The peace of the moment was shattered by the sounds of Trigger’s RWR Receiver. A quick staccato chipped in his ears as the radar sights simultaneously locked onto his jet.

“You’re in plain view Spare 15, get below the clouds!” Bandog admonished.

Trigger ignored the comment. “Spare 15 hard spike. Defending” Trigger said calmly as he pulled the jet over to level, albeit inverted. The terrain below was breathtaking.

He could hear an audible groan from the AWACS. “Fine, get yourself killed then.” Bandog admonished.

“Magnum!” Count yelled over the radio. Seconds later Trigger watched a fireball atop one of the mountains.

“Would you look at that, Spare 8 actually did something by himself for once.” Bandog said bemused.

A whooping from Trigger’s aircraft indicated the Eruseans had finally fired upon him.

“Spare 15, Missile 11 o’clock off your nose, closing.” Bandog reported.

Trigger squinted until he could make out a glint, it was approaching impossibly fast. He rolled the jet to a 90-degree bank and started a turn; he knew he could not outrun the missile so he would have to do the next best thing and defeat it. Continuing his roll and pulling into a dive Trigger eyed his exit strategy, a long stretch of mountain valley that was just low enough to allow him to pull out of the dive. With the airspeed screaming past 500 knots, he knew that he only had mere seconds to pull off this stunt.

 

Not wanting to throw out the possibility, Trigger deployed a quick burst off Chaff and Flare, to his dismay, the missile kept on Target and corrected its trajectory to intercept him.

His Altitude tape read 7000 and fell rapidly. Within a heartbeat he was once again engulfed in white. In one quick motion he pulled the throttle back to idle, engaged his speed brake and pulled the jet’s nose towards the Horizon. The sudden onset of G-forces was a shock to his system as his vision tunneled to the fading color of his heads-up display. Fighting to not only maintain control of his jet, but to stay conscious, Trigger screamed at just over the treetops.  Slowly the blood returned to Trigger’s ears and he could hear again.

The RWR was silent.

“The missiles are guided by the satellite and radar, so if the radar facility is destroyed, the missiles should stop hitting their targets.” Bandog stated.

“You sure you can trust that intel?” Full Band asked.

“Who knows? Only one way to find out.” Bandog replied.

 

Trigger shook his head. At his old squadron, that stunt he pulled off would have garnered some attention, but for the Spares, stupid ideas seemed to be another day at the office.

 

Trigger once again pulled the jet above the cloud deck. Within moments the RWRs chittering buzzed in his ears.  On another mountaintop, Trigger watched an explosion, he glanced down to his Situational Awareness display to see it was likely Full Band’s kill.

“Radar Sight confirmed destroyed, however not all radar’s have been taken out and those satellites are still in operation.” Bandog reported.

“They sure aren’t making it easy for us.” Count griped.

“Dammit they’re making us do something – but just what?!” Tabloid exclaimed in frustration. Trigger noted the Belkans excitability when it came to missions, including an outburst during their fight with the pilot who killed Champ. “It’s a dangerous operation, but its better than running through a minefield blind I guess.” Tabloid exhaled, sounding calmer on the radio.

 

The RWR once again indicated a missile lock.

Without reporting, Trigger dived once again into the clouds.

“Your so naive Tabloid, what we’re doing is exactly like running through a minefield blind.” Full Band shot back.

“Radar sight silenced. Speaking of silence, if you got time to yap, you’re not doing your job.” Bandog reprimanded.

 

“Hey, I got in using a trick any amateur could think of. Picked up a bunch of intel too.” Full Band stated.

“There he goes, running his mouth.” Quipped one of the other Spare pilots.

“Full Band, that’s your second strike. There won’t be a third.” Bandog cautioned.

 

“Rifle!, Rifle!” Hex shouted .

 

“Spare 10, get below the clouds!” Bandog barked.

“Shit, Im locked up! Help!” Hex exclaimed.

 

There was a pause on the frequency.

 

“Spare 10 lost. Continue with the mission.” Bandog reported bluntly.

 

“Like I was saying, I got my hands on a password, and after some digging around I found a bunch of stuff.” Full Band continued.

“I’m not sure you understand what you’re saying Spare 6” Bandog warned.

“I’ll let you in on it when we’re home Bandog. In this war Intel is a life-or-death matter” Full band said jovially. Trigger was unsure if he was purposely pushing the AWACS’ buttons or was more preoccupied with his mission to care.

 

Trigger continued his portion of the mission, trolling around for the missiles.

 

Within minutes, Bandog spoke up again.

“All targets destroyed that should be the last of the radar sights we needed to destroy. That probably put a stop to their missiles’ terminal guidance capabilities as well. Someone fly above the clouds.” Bandog instructed.

“How about you do it?” Invited one of the Spare pilots towards the AWACS, “I like the sound of that” Full Band added, “He could do with the exercise” Taunted another Spare squadron member.

“Hey Trigger, You’ve been doing a pretty good job of that already.” Tabloid jested.

“Fine, you big babies.” Trigger said, gently climbing through the cloud deck.

“Spare 15 naked.” He reported.

 

Slowly the other Spare’s jets climbed above the clouds to relative safety.

Trigger expected an order to RTB as well as the other pilots. Unlike their missions of dogfight engagements, this one had been relatively straight forward. Trigger listened to the idle talk of the pilots until Bandog broke radio silence.

“Wait a minute, hold it!” Bandog ordered.

“What’s going on Bandog?” Tabloid inquired.

Trigger glanced down to see new contacts on his jets Radar display, Osean F-18’s. Weird. Trigger thought.

 

“This is the Osean Air Force 444 Squadron, State your affiliation” Bandog interrogated the interlopers.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

Trigger watched his secondary radio, tuned to 243 MHz light up.

“Incoming allied fighters, respond on my Frequency, UHF Channel 14” Bandog instructed.

“The regular forces don’t want anything to do with the Penal base.” Count said confused.

Triggers RWR once again started beeping, alongside the UFC, he could see it was an Air-to-Air lock.

“What the hell?! I’m Spiked!” cried one pilot. “They have radar Lock!” Yelled another.

“But the IFF says they’re allies!” Count said shocked.

“Woah Time out, don’t tell me they’re barrier troops!” Full Band said accusingly.

 

Any questions the pilots had we’re squelched as Hardball’s jet exploded in a fireball.

“Osean fighters! Do not Engage! We are friendlies! Shit!” Bandog hissed.

“Someone’s on me! Is He an Enemy?” Full Band yelled.

“Defending!” Count yelled.

 

Trigger dived his jet for the clouds.

“These guys aren’t allies!” Bandog exclaimed, confusion and anger apparent in his voice.

“What was your first guess?” Hissed Trigger. “Are they spoofing our IFF?” Full Band asked.

“Wally’s Down!” Exclaimed a pilot. The radio frequency was chaos.

“Modern IFF connects to our strategic systems via satellites. It can’t be decoded!” Bandog said in disbelief.

“Yet here we are!” Trigger interjected.

 

“What about markings and craft type?” Tabloid asked. “Theres no time!” another pilot shot back.

“But you said information on the IFF is top secret, Theres no way they could make a fake!” Tabloid yelled.

“At this rate, no one is going to make it out alive, All Aircraft, get below the clouds and out of the enemy’s sight.” Bandog ordered.

“Then what?” Count yelled.

 

The voices on the radio were thinning out by the minute. Trigger watched on his display as more friendly targets vanished.

 

Suddenly, Tabloid spoke up again. “All aircraft, gather on me, I mean Trigger!” He ordered.

“What?” Count said astonished. Tabloid without missing a beat continued, “Bandog, can you register Trigger and the blips around him as friendlies?” Tabloid asked.

“What good is that?” Cried one of the remaining Spare pilots.

Trigger wasn’t sure where Tabloid was going with his idea, but just incase he started to turn on his Air-to-Air TACAN Transmitter.

 “What other choice do we have?” Tabloid said bluntly.

 

There was a pause.

“Sure” Bandog said.

 

“Alright, All Aircraft, form up on Trigger, Nice and Tight.” Tabloid Ordered.

“I’m on TACAN 12Y, if you can’t find me on your SA display, tune me in there.” Trigger barked climbing his jet above the clouds.

Trigger looked at who was left. Tabloid, Count, Full Band, Showboat, Gonzo and himself.

 

“Bandog its on you.” Tabloid prompted the AWACS.

“Full Band, whats your location?” Bandog clarified. “The tail end!” Full Band reported.

“Understood.” Bandog said with a slight chuckle.

 

“I’ve sent new ID data; bandits are marked as bandits. Shoot them all down!” Bandog directed.

 “No way Im dying out here.” Said a determined Full Band.

“This is the Penal Unit. I decide when you die.” Bandog said forcefully.

Trigger engaged his AIM-9 Sidewinders. While the Eagle was never built for a close engagement, it was more than a respectable fighter in Trigger’s opinion. His eyes tracked the target before his jets Radar did. It was one of the F/A-18’s that had fired on him. Osean or not they would be treated all the same.

The familiar growl filled Trigger’s ears, as he closed the distance, the seeker found the heat signature from the jet and screamed.

“Spare 15 Fox Two!” Trigger shouted as he fired the missile. It tracked true to its target and detonated; the Hornet disintegrated instantly.  

The RWR started ticking again, “Shit Defending!” Trigger exclaimed. In his rear view mirror he could see another fireball.

“That should have cleaned him off of you Trigger.” Tabloid reported.

 

Trigger started looking for another target when Bandog spoke up again. “Projectile incoming!”

“Tell us what’s happening! Come on!” Full Band hissed.

“Goddammit not right now!” Bandog dismissed.

“That doesn’t sound good.” Count quipped.

“Air contact closing at high speed. Its too fast to be an aircraft!” Bandog reported.

“if its not that, what is it?” “What do we do?” “Whats going on?”

 

Trigger tried to tune out the jibber jabber as he moved to engage another Hornet, he clicked forward to his 20mm cannon and fired a burst. The rounds landed long, but peppered enough of the Hornets wing to send it spinning out of control into the mountain below.

 

Bandog began counting down. “3… 2… 1… Here it comes!” He shouted. A brilliant ball of blue light scalded his eyes.

There were yells of terror from the pilots. “My Aircraft is gonna break up!” cried Gonzo.

 

Bandog sighed “Incoming transmission from HQ, the weapon is codenamed ‘Helios’, it’s a long-range missile carried by Arsenal Birds.”

“Arsenal Birds?” Tabloid replied confused.

Trigger was familiar with what his former Group commander dubbed ‘Big baby Huey.’ They were a threat that Trigger witnessed firsthand.

“Sending over predicted impact zones. Its coming in hot!” Bandog announced.

“Damn you’re working quick today Bandog!” Count noted.

“Get too chatty and you will die.” Bandog rebuked before starting his countdown again.

Trigger watched as some of the Hornets vanished within the blue balls of fire.

 

“How can they fire like that when they’ve got allies in the airspace! Don’t they care about their pilots?” Tabloid said disgusted.

 

Trigger maneuvered to engage another Hornet that crossed his path.  Like the others, the Jet took no attempts of defensive maneuvers when fired upon.  Trigger watched his final Sidewinder leave its rail, and like a finger stretching from his jet, tracked onto its target and detonated.

 

“Spare 15, One to go.” Bandog Reported.

“Winchester” Trigger replied. “Don’t worry, I got it.” Count chimed in.

“Go get him!” Bandog said enthusiastically.

 

“One to go? Where is he?” Full Band said confused.

“Count!” Bandog said forcefully.

“Righto, This is it! Fox 2!” Count said.  

Trigger watched as Counts missile found its target. “All right! I got the last one!” Count said cheerfully.

“Dammit! God Dammit! Why is this-“ Full Band exclaimed before the transmission stopped.

 

It slowly dawned on Trigger as he watched a fiery wreckage plunge towards the clouds below.  

“What? Full Band!” Count said shocked. “What the hell?” “Full Bands down!” Cried the surviving members of Spare Squadron. “Friendly Fire?” “Didn’t we get all the bandits?” other members rationalized.

 

Tabloid’s voice rose above the rest. “Full Band got tagged as an enemy.” He said bluntly.

 

A stunned silence fell over the pilots.

 

“You did that on purpose Bandog!” Count said accusingly.

“Did what?” Bandog feigned innocence.

“Don’t play dumb! Full Band!” Count yelled.

“It was an accident. It got out of control. RTB” Bandog said coldly.  

The egress and flight back to Zapland was dead silent from the pilots.

***

A silent energy fell throughout the dining room. Trigger tried to puff up his chest, which thanks to his muscle atrophy, made him look pathetic in comparison to the laid-back man before him.

 

Bandog grinned “Really how you want to greet me after being away for so long? I thought we we’re friends Trigger.”

“Not sure what kind of friendship that was.” Trigger spat.

Bandog shrugged and took a seat at the table. He poured himself a glass of water from a pitcher and swished it around in the glass “Well if you want to keep snarling there like a kicked dog that’s fine with me. Tell me now, otherwise I have better things to do.” He said dismissively.

“Like what? I heard you were on the run from the Oseans!” Trigger said accusingly.

Bandog snorted “Yeah, some of the Oseans. Im a bit too valuable to others. Lieutenant, if you would, Me and Trigger here need some privacy.” Bandog said.

 

Fick nodded and exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Bandog paused for a moment, making sure that the Marine had actually left “Now with that out of the way how about you take a seat. Please, watching you stand is making me tired.” Bandog motioned to the chair Trigger was sitting in earlier.

“What do you want?” Trigger interrogated.

Bandog shook his head dismissively. “You know, if you want to continue being a dick, I could pay them to drop your ass back off in that hangar we found you in. I didn’t even have to drop what I was doing, fly halfway across the continent to pick you up, but I’m nice like that. The least you can do is hear me out.” Bandog said pointing a finger at Trigger.

 

“Ok. Shoot.” Trigger said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms.

 

“Simply put, I have a job lined up for you. If you take the job, Your safety won’t be guaranteed, but it will keep you out of jail.”

“What kind of work?”

“Stuff you’re good at, Probably the only thing your good at really-“ Bandog remarked

“-Hey!” Trigger shouted defensively Bandog put up a hand to quiet him.

“Let me finish. I need a pilot. Someone who could trade between close air support and boring recon, with every which mission in between. I’ve been following your exploits as of late, so I know your at least crazy enough for it. Think you’d be interested?” Bandog said.

 

Trigger thought for a moment. “What’s the pay.”

“Right to the money? Ok not what I expected but sure. Let’s go with that. Room and board here with the Marines, plus any expenses and a few grand a month thrown into an untraceable bank account in Nordennavic.” Bandog explained.

“So whats the mission?”

“Pretty simple, I’ve been getting my hands on intel, and I think I have enough to get the bastards who sold the Erusean’s those bombs they used to kill our buddies. The Marine’s here have offered their services in waste disposal to take them out, but they need a pilot whose crazy enough to take on the task.” Bandog explained
“I thought Fick said they had killed the arms dealer who sold them though?” Trigger replied confused.

“Eh, he was relatively small time. Im talking about the big time. Usean sect of the Sapinish Cartel was the ones moving all those guns into Radical hands. I think a transgression like that should be handled in a more direct fashion than what a courtroom and jailer can provide. I’m hoping you would agree given the circumstances.” Bandog elaborated.

“Sounds illegal” Trigger said

“Only if you get caught.” Bandog grinned.

“Ok, This sounds well and good and all but what’s the catch?”

“Catch? Pretty much you’re stuck here until the jobs done or you die. Whichever comes first.” Bandog started.

“Oh, that sounds just like the Penal Unit. Are you telling me McKinsey is behind this? Are we getting the gang back together?” Trigger quipped.

“Hardly. Now for the big catch. You, Trigger, will have to be a ghost. For all intents and purposes, you will have died on May 17^th in the attack. You can’t have any contact with your past life while on the job. If you had anyone close, they’re just going to have to deal with an empty pinewood box and a folded flag.” Bandog concluded.

The words dawned on Trigger. His first thought was of Cossette. Officially she had no relationship to Trigger other than a strictly professional one. He wondered how she’d even find out when he was presumed killed. His mind tried to paint a picture of how she would react but, for the life of him, he couldn’t seem to make the thought form. It seemed to unreal.

The only Next of Kin Trigger had would be his father. Trigger couldn’t remember the last time he had talked to his dad.

Was it since Zapland? Before that?

Trigger was unsure. He shook his head, choosing to not dwell on the subject for too long. It was a sore spot for him, one that Cossette even knew to avoid.

 

Trigger stayed silent for a few minutes as he mulled the offer in his mind. He was weary of Bandog, Not only was the man a criminal. Trigger had seen what happened when his pawns outlived their usefulness to him firsthand. Given his circumstances he was in no mood to be stabbed in the back again.

 

Bandog stood up. “I suggest you take a few hours to think this through. When your ready, Tell Fick and he’ll know where to find me.” Bandog instructed.

 

Trigger moved himself to the living room and sat on the sofa and thought. He had a lot of time to think and that bothered him for once. Between his capture, bedrest and now Bandog’s offer, he had an overabundance of time to think. The more he thought the more his mind wandered.

 

The sun crawled through the sky as the hours passed and Trigger replayed everything in his mind. He analyzed every detail and word he could remember. He could not help but feel like he was trying to read the fine print from a deal with the devil himself. It tortured him endlessly as the hours dragged on.

 

His thoughts ran back to Cossette. He wondered how she was doing. He hated that taking the offer might be giving up any chance he had of seeing her again. But if I can get the bastards that almost hurt her… The thought was crystalizing in his mind.

 

If I couldn’t protect you while I was with you.

 

At least I can try to protect you from here.

Trigger walked to the window and looked out west towards the setting Sun. High in the sky he could see a golden strand.

“I’m sorry, I hope you understand.” He whispered.

Trigger turned around and wiped a tear from his eye.

“Lieutenant! I need to speak to Bandog!” He shouted throughout the house.