My name's Blackjack and I'm a fighter pilot. God, you have no idea just how much that sounds like a confession at an AA meeting. And, actually, I'm not really a fighter pilot; I fly ugly, slow attack planes. Granted, my last bird was nowhere near slow, and was as sexy as a young Sophia Loren. By the way, I'm also married to the King of Aslan's niece—Kitri Parnaveh. As for how, well, that is, in itself, a story.

It all started during the Aslan Civil War…

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"Double Echo, this is Blackjack, Three Zero Section. Enroute back from Point Three Five," the pilot of the old A-1H Skyraider called.

"Roger that, Blackjack. I take it your mission was a success?"

"Yeah, I think so. That's one more rebel tank column that won't threaten anyone anymore. Gotta love army cooperation missions," Blackjack said wryly into the microphone. "Blackjack out." Cutting communications before his controller from Area 88 could get the last word in, Blackjack settled into the inflated donut he was sitting on, and pulled back on the throttle to maximize fuel consumption. The big radial engine out front growled like a sated tiger.

While Blackjack kept a vigilant eye out for rebel fighters, while enjoying his return flight, his air-to-ground radio began squawking on the emergency net. "Is there anyone out there? We need help," a panicky voice called over the net. Explosions, gunfire, and rocket fire could be heard in the background.

"This is Blackjack, Section Three Zero, Area 88. I need you to calm down and identify yourself."

"Uh, I'm Private Jones, 3rd Corps Support Battalion, Aslan Army. There are rebel attack choppers all over us. We're on ASR Green; I guess about three miles west from Checkpoint Able. Hurry!"

Looking at his maps, Blackjack was about fifteen minutes out. He racked the antiquated attack plane around, and jammed the throttle to the stops. "Double Echo, this is Blackjack, Three Zero Section."

"Go ahead, Blackjack."

"I just got a call from someone claiming to be part of the 3rd CSB on ASR Green, about three miles west of Checkpoint Able. Can you verify with Army Command that this isn't a trap? I'm still heading in, just in case."

"We'll check, Blackjack. You want support, just in case?"

"I think I can handle it." As he keyed off the radio, he could see smoke on the horizon, then black dots orbiting the smoke, which then resolved into choppers—Hips and Hinds. "This'll be interesting," Blackjack muttered. He armed his cannons and rolled in on the attack. As he closed on a Hip, his four 20mm cannons spat out armor piercing and high explosive rounds. The Hip exploded into a ball of flame, and dropped from the sky. "Splash one Hip," he called over the radio. The remaining choppers broke their formation, the Hinds going after Blackjack's Skyraider, while the Hips tried running.

Blackjack added power to the engine, and pulled into a big barrel roll, cutting the throttle at the top of the roll. The maneuver put him a good position to open up on the remaining three Hips, shooting them down. "Three Hips down," he announced, as he felt the impact of 30mm rounds hitting his plane. Glancing back, he saw the remaining four Hinds coming up his six o'clock.

Shoving the throttles forward, he pulled the plane into a Cuban 8, diving on the Hinds, wing-mounted cannons blazing as he walked the rounds left and right with the rudder. Three of the Hinds split off, one trailing smoke from it's rotor hub, while the lead chopper rolled into an inverted dive, before impacting on the rocky desert below. "Son of a bitch," he growled, as his radio squawked to life.

"Blackjack, Double Echo."

"Go ahead."

"Your information is confirmed. 3rd CSB had a convoy heading to Firebase Delta. Their route took them along ASR Green."

"Damn. Tell 3rd CSB that they're going to need to get some anti-air assets in their convoys. Looks like they shot the shit out of the convoy; no visibility on survivors. "

"Understood. So how did you do?"

"Four Hips, a Hind, and a probable on a Hind; he was trailing smoke."

"Ah…roger. Saki'll want to see you about that when you get in."

"Wilco, Blackjack out." As he turned to head back to Area 88, he was figuring out how to mount Sidewinders on his outboard pylons, and how much McCoy would charge him for the parts and missiles.

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With a slight bounce on his landing, Blackjack taxied off the runway and on to the apron. "Mickey's back, Campbell's back, Kid's back, Hoover's back. Looks like they survived. And it looks like we have a new pilot," he said to himself as he taxied to his spot for refueling. "Hey, Tran," he called to his former South Vietnamese Air Force crew chief, "talk to McCoy. I want to see about mounting Sidewinders on this thing."

"I'll ask, boss, but I don't think it's possible. You know as well as I that the 'raider was never planned for real air to air combat," he replied as Blackjack dropped off the wing and tucked his sooty flight gloves into his flightsuit.

"Yeah, but I got some hot intelligence about rebel army aviation." He paused, as he climbed into the open top Land Rover. "What was that crowd about, anyway?"

"We got ourselves…a WOMAN," Tran shouted, excited at the prospect of seeing some female flesh.

Blackjack raised an eyebrow. "Really?" His only answer was an enthusiastic nod from his crew chief. Blackjack shook his head as he headed for the command building.

He was standing outside the Commander's office, when the door opened. Blackjack's eyes opened further, when he saw this vision of loveliness walk out of Saki's office: long, blue-black hair, violet eyes that just captured the soul, and a body that the flightsuit molded to. He could almost feel his heart skip a beat when he looked at her. The last time he felt that way was back in Saigon. "Ma'am," he said, with a respectful nod. Kitri nodded, and continued on.

Roundel stuck his head out of the Commander's office. "Blackjack," he said.

Blackjack walked in, and nodded to Saki. "You wanted to see me, boss," he asked, as he wiped a greasy hand on his equally grimy flightsuit.

"Yes, I did. I'd like you to recount your rescue mission over ASR Green." Blackjack did so, with Saki listening, occasionally asking a question here and there. "The choppers, how did you know they were Hinds?"

"Other than the stubby wings with missiles hanging from the wingtips, and the fact that I only managed to kill one, and damage another, Saki? There was the greenhouse nose to recognize them. I think it might be prudent to start assigning anti-air assets to the convoys going anywhere near the front, boss."

"Alright. I'll let High Command know. That'll be all." Blackjack nodded, and walked out of the Saki's office.

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As he was scrubbing off the day's accumulated sweat, grime, and soot in the shower, the base intercom squawked to life. The other pilots were all talking about the only woman on the base. "All personnel, report to the ready room at 2100 concerning our next operation. That is all."

There was murmuring amongst the pilots, ranging from speculation about the mission to continued speculation about the new pilot. Kitri was sitting near the front, her head resting on her hand. When Saki walked in, the murmuring quieted down. As he walked to the podium, Roundel was already placing the marker tiles on the magnetic board. "Beginning tomorrow at sundown, the regular military is scheduled to undertake a large scale military operation to the northeast. In an effort to subdue the land-based threats from Sierra Lima, our mission is to neutralize the air defenses in their area of operation, and secure aerial dominance."

There was massive grumbling from the pilots. Mickey summed it up, beautifully, however. "Saki, you want us to poke around in the thicket first, so those nice boys don't get bitten?"

"That's it, precisely."

"Hey! Who do they think we are, some kind of errand boys or something," Greg shouted.

"Due to the seriousness of this mission all personnel are required to participate. With the exception of Kazama, who's currently without a plane; Blackjack, because of the speed required for this mission; and Kitri—you will also remain behind." Saki looked directly at his cousin, before explaining. "Before beginning combat activities, you will need to be brought up to speed on all navigational landmarks.

"That'll be all. Dismissed."

"All flight commanders, stay back, for additional information," Roundel said, as the pilots stood to leave." Roundel grabbed Blackjack by the arm. "Blackjack, a moment of your time."

He looked at the one-eyed Brit holding his arm. "I guess there's no getting by you, Roundel."

"We don't have any Army cooperation missions scheduled for tomorrow. So enjoy the day off."

"Gee thanks. Is there anything else, or were you going to ask me out on a date?"

"Do you know how that bucket of water got on top of Commander's door this morning, or at least who did it?"

"Sorry Roundel. Can't help you on that."

Blackjack caught up with Kitri. "Hey, wait up a second," he called. The lavender-eyed beauty stopped. "I saw you were kind of disappointed about being left behind."

Kitri looked the American pilot over. He wasn't in his best flightsuit, but it was his cleanest and hand the fewest oil spots on it. "What makes you think that I was disappointed," she asked, "Mr. …"

"Blackjack. Just Blackjack, ma'am." He gave her a wry grin. "Because you had this look like a little kid not getting what they wanted for Christmas."

"Perhaps you're right, 'Just Blackjack'," she replied, with a smile that made the ground attack specialist weak in the knees. She also took the opportunity to introduce herself. "Kitri Parnaveh."

"Pleased to meet you, Kitri. Any way, with the rest of the fighters going out on this mission, it tends to leave the base undefended," he said, as they walked back to the barracks, from the briefing room. "And the rebels always seem to know when we're undefended, and launch their attacks then. It's almost as if they've got a mole within the base."

"It maybe," Kitri said. "If I may ask, why are you here?"

"Only if I get the same," he countered. Kitri replied with a nod. "I was in Vietnam, flying Air Force Skyraiders on Combat SAR, close-air support, and interdiction missions. I got to like the taste of adrenalin, mixed with cordite and 130 octane. I flew the last Air Force 'raider to the boneyard in '76, and was waiting for a slot to upgrade to the first generation F-15s, until I pissed off the wrong people. After that, I flew fire bombers, bush planes, and crop dusters, until I saw a flyer looking for pilots."

"So, you are an adrenalin junkie, yes?" Blackjack nodded. "I see.

"You want to know why I'm here, yes?" He nodded. "I am watching my country tear itself apart, and I want to do something about it. My uncle thinks the Soviets will leave us alone if he wins the war, but with rubles come concessions for docking rights, and then bases, and finally a Communist state. My father would rather have the Americans here. After all, the dollar buys more than the ruble, yes?"

"Wait a second," Blackjack said. "Your father is…"

"The King of Aslan. He always said I had my mother's eyes."

"That makes…"

"The Commander my cousin." Kitri looked at Blackjack. "Are you alright?"

The information took him a few minutes to recover, but you still could have bowled Blackjack over with a feather. "I don't believe it," he muttered, "I'm hitting on Saki's cousin."

Kitri smiled at the flustered American, and patted his arm. "Then be glad it's my cousin commanding this base, and not my brother. He is very dedicated to the family, and would probably have had you flogged for even looking at me. Even without my father's consent."

"Oh brother," Blackjack muttered again. He noticed that they were standing in front of her barracks room. "Um…"

"I have another question for you. What do you know about Shin?"

"He's a virtuoso with a fighter. I've seen him pull stuff off that should be virtually impossible in anything, let alone a Crusader. It's like he's driven towards a goal, that's just within reach, but still out of grasp. As for his life back in Japan, he hasn't talked much about it. Hell, he hasn't talked about it at all. Nor has he opened up with that photographer guy.

"Kitri, I wouldn't go stirring up a hornet's nest, if I were you. Consider it a friendly warning."

It looked like Kitri was thinking over what Blackjack had said. "Well then, perhaps I will. Thank you for the conversation, 'Just Blackjack'," she said as she walked into her room.

Blackjack released the breath he was holding, as she closed the door behind her, and walked to his own quarters. "What, you think she was going to invite you in, moron? She's royalty, after all."

00000

Standing out on the flightline, Blackjack watched as the assault force taxied out and departed by sections. "I've got a bad feeling about this," he muttered. Tran walked up to him. "What's up Tran?"

"I talked to McCoy this morning, about mounting Sidewinders on a 'Raider."

"Oh?" That piqued Blackjack's interest. "What'd the old scrounger have to say?"

"Said it'd never been done before, but it shouldn't represent too difficult a problem."

"Good. Rig up the two outboard pylons on both wings, for permanent mounting. I'll also want the capability on the main inboard pylons."

"You sure about this, Blackjack? You're going to give up a lot of air-to-ground space. You think the benefit will offset the cost?"

"I do. Besides, there are Hinds out there now. Those bastards are armored like a tank. I was able to down one of them with a lucky shot today. Not again. Never again."

"Gotcha, Black…" Tran's voice trailed off as the air raid sirens began to wail.

Both pilot and crew chief began running around the Skyraider, preflighting the bomber. Blackjack climbed into the cockpit, and pulled out an old leather flying helmet and throat mike from the map pocket. The old radial engine coughed to life with a cloud of black smoke out of the short exhaust stacks. Tran pulled out the chocks from the left main, and signaled Blackjack he was clear. Advancing the throttles, he began taxiing to the runway, as he dialed in the day's tower frequency.

"Kitri, this is an unauthorized sortie. Taxi back to the apron, and clear the runway."

"I came to swat down some flies, Commander," was the terse reply as the Mirage F1 began rolling down the runway.

"Double Echo, this is Blackjack, Three Zero Section, taking off."

"Has the whole base gone crazy? Blackjack, clear the runway and taxi your antique back to the apron. This is an unauthorized sortie."

"Someone's gotta try to keep this base intact, Double Echo." With a growl, the Skyraider taxied down the runway and lifted off. As Blackjack orbited to gain altitude, he waved at Saki, Roundel and the staff in the tower. He kept his throttle going full bore as he climbed into the fight.

"All right," he heard Kitri call over the radio, "who wants the first kiss?" A few moments later, the lead rebel fighter erupted into a ball of flame. A few minutes later, another ball of flame erupted, as a rebel MiG-17 fell prey to Kitri. "Blackjack, you've got a bandit on your six," she called.

Blackjack threw his fighter into a tight right turn, allowing the pursuing MiG-21 to overshoot. He rolled back on to the tail of the rebel fighter and opened up with his four 20mm cannons. Smoke trailed out of the right side of the rebel fighter; as it began accelerate away from the radial-engined fighter-bomber. The damage was done, however, as flame erupted along the wing. "Sayonara, sucker," Blackjack called, as the MiG exploded. He didn't have time to enjoy his kill, however, as he was quickly evading another MiG.

"I've got it, Blackjack. Guns!" Kitri called. Rounds from her 30mm cannons found their mark, but the rebel MiG blew up too close to her. Debris was sucked into her intakes. "FOD in the engine? Damn."

Blackjack had gotten on the tail of the rebel fighter, who was matching speed with Kitri's Mirage. "Kitri, break left. Guns," he called, his cannons found their mark, just as the rebel pilot launched an Atoll at the damaged Mirage.

The Atoll blew up, away from its mark, as Shin, in an F-4, blew through the cloud of smoke. "Kitri, get out of here. Blackjack, make sure she gets back to base safely," he ordered.

Blackjack waggled his wings as the remaining rebel MiGs chased after Shin's Phantom. Black smoke started coming out of Kitri's tailpipe. "Kitri, you're plane's smoking," he called.

"Engine's failing," she replied. The master caution alarms could be heard over the radio.

Pulling his Skyraider aside of the stricken Mirage, he entered flight instructor mode. "Kitri, you're dead-sticking a Mirage." He called the tower. "Area 88, double Echo, this is Blackjack, declaring an emergency for Kitri, Zero-Zero section."

"You think I don't know that," she retorted. "I'm going to bring this in."

"Blackjack, double Echo, roger. We're rolling recovery assets."

"Come right, gently. Good. Watch your airspeed. Bring your nose down a couple of degrees. Good." Blackjack had his plane's gear out. "I'll be your instruments, Kitri. Keep your eyes outside. Four hundred feet, two miles to go. Three hundred feet, mile and a half. You're centered on the runway. Gear down." The base crash/rescue team were staged at the end of the active runway. "Gear's down and locked. Come right, a degree. That's it."

Sweat was pouring off Kitri, as she followed Blackjack's commands. It was just like she was back in flight school, but this time, it was her life on the line, not a grade. "You're over the threshold. Speed brakes and flare." She popped the speed brakes and flared the fighter. With a squeal, the mains hit the asphalt, and the nose dropped down, compressing the oleos, as the weight of the fighter settled down. With the remaining momentum, Kitri taxied off the runway and on to the sand, the crash trucks following behind her. Popping open the canopy, she looked at Blackjack pulling his plane into a barrel roll over the runway, before turning downwind for final to land.

Taxiing his plane to his revetment, Blackjack shut the radial engine down, and climbed out. Kitri was just walking past Shin, thanking him for the assistance, making a beeline for his Skyraider. He climbed off the wing, just as she walked up to him. "I don't like being indebted to anyone," she said, as she walked close to Blackjack. Makoto was snapping pictures the whole time.

Blackjack smiled at her. "Then, perhaps you would permit me to buy you a drink?"

"Offering to buy a lady a drink? How gallant," she replied. "Later, then perhaps." She ran off, her hair streaming out behind her.

"There's going to be a lot of pilots drowning their sorrows in booze tonight. Guess I better break into the warehouse stash," McCoy said, after watching the whole thing.

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My spin on Area 88, beginning with Episode Five of the new series. Expect original characters, new series characters, old series and manga characters, and hopefully, my usual high level of writing, along with some unusual fighters as the all-important, but background, characters.