(jaguarxj220@usa.net) Author: Jaguar Lyons Title: The Ninth Hour Summary: Everything couldn't get any worse, but can they? The Ninth Hour 8 MiG 29's were in pursuit of Razor. He already blew one out of the sky. T-Bone has already taken off from the base, and has spotted the MiG's. "Razor, do you copy?" T-Bone asked nervously. "Sure am. Just aim missiles at the stupid craps and get a few off my tail, will ya?" "On my way." 'Okay you son's of motherless goats, eat this!' , the message T-Bone thought, as 12 Sidewinder missiles launched from the TurboKat. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon.........." T-Bone chanted.... Suddenly a *boom* came out of nowhere, and looking down on the controls, T-Bone noticed his weapons bay was jammed and so was his cannon. Razor's jet got hit, and he ejected, escaping injury. He radioed T-Bone. "T-Bone, there is one jet left, and I can't fight him. Can you?" "No. Weapons bay and cannon are jammed. I guess I hafta ram the bitch head on." For Razor, this was a *gasp, wheeze, faint!!* *no don't do it!!* kind of situation. In the final Mig, pilot Qazi heard the roar of the TurboKat's engines as it shot over him and watched it depart toward his ten 'o clock position. He cheered, then watched in silent horror as the TurboKat began a level turn toward his twelve 'o clock. Now it was coming back, head on. Qazi sat behind the controls, waiting for the TurboKat's cannon to erupt. The jet looked like a bird of prey from this angle, closing, growing larger, its wings waggling as the pilot adjusted his course, straight for the MiG's cockpit. Why doesn't he shoot? Yet even as Qazi wondered, he knew. At first the MiG was just there, in the great empty blue sky in front of the TurboKat, fixed in space. Then it grew visably larger. And larger. Now it filled the windscreen. At the last possible instant T-Bone slammed the left wing down and pulled. The jets hit. T-Bone's head slammed against the starboard side of the canopy and the G's smashed him and threw him forward and he lost his grip of the control stick and throttles. Incredibly, the G's increased. He was flung forward and sideways and upward all at the same time. He fought for the lower ejection handle, between his legs, but he couldn't reach it. Even with his straps tight, the G had pushed him up and forward away from the seat and as the G tore at him. he couldn't reach the lower handle, which was closer than the upper handle. It *had* to be back under him. If only he could activate the ejection seat... He saw red as the little veins in his eyeballs burst and he screamed through clenched teeth to stay conscious and fought with supertomakat strength to reach the handle between his legs with his left paw while he used his right to push himself backward toward the seat. Then the cockpit disintegrated and he was slammed by windblast, as if he had been hurled into a wall, and his arms were failing. The windblast subsides and the G's were gone. He was falling, still attached to the seat, falling, spinning slowly, unable to move. Through a reddish haze he saw the sun and the bay blink past, changing positions over and over. It seemed to go on forever, this fall through space. He radioed Razor, telling him what happened to his eyes, and to tell his parents he was gone. An awareness that the parachute had not deployed was there somewhere on the edge of his consciousness. Falling and slowly spinning, under a brilliant sun toward the sea deep and blue, falling as the gods fell, falling, falling. ----_--------------------------_---------------__-------------------------_-- When Razor saw the jet smash into the ground, he landed his ejector seat, walked up to the wreckage, and he fell onto his knees and cried his heart out. It was hours later when he stepped into Callie's room at the hospital. She had a visitor, which made Razor cry even more. It was Chance's wife, Felina. "Oh hi Razor," Felina and Callie said in unison. "..Uh...you might want to sit down for this, Felina." "Razor, what's wrong?" "Something very, very terrible. T-Bone....is..." "What is T-Bone?" inquired Felina. "T-Bone is...dead. His jet crashed into the ground a few hours back. 8 MiG 29's were going to blast the city. I heard that over the radio. We got all but one, and his jet was damaged, and mine out of comission, so he rammed the last MiG with is jet, and the G's on him got to great. The blood vessels in his eyes burst, and he wasn't able to eject. I'm terribly sorry to hear and tell this news." Felina's eyes got huge, and she started to cry, ditto for Callie. "..But....but....oh..my...G..." "I know this is going to kill you even more, and I am sorry as can be for doing this. I apoligize, and please forgive me." After he said the little line, he slowly removed his helmet, and then his mask. They both said, "Jake?" "Uh huh." "And that means..." stuttered Felina. "Yes. T-Bone was Chance, 100%. And I'm hurting very much too. I'm sorry." The three of them cried the rest of the night. _________---{----{@ ________-----{----{@ _________------{------{@ _______ The End? (jaguarxj220@usa.net) This is an ad. Any kat who would like to co-author a fanfic with me, feel free to email me.