Greetings to all fans of the Swat Kats. This is my fourth fanfic. Please note this in any flames that you send. A few points to remember. 1) Swat Kats: The Radical Squadron is owned by Hanna Barbera. Which in turn is owned by Ted Turner, the same man who is married to Jane Fonda! 2) I own Tim Hunt and associated characters. Please inform me if you wish to use them 3) As Tim hunt is an Australian, he pronounces some words differently. For example Lieutenant is pronounced as _LEFT_tenant and his rank would be Flight LEFTtenant. 4) All flames and praise can be sent to Mark Johnson at Going Home By Mark Johnson Hunter hated night flying with a vengeance. Yet he knew that in order to become a SWAT Kat he needed to fly both the Raptor and the TurboKat with equal ease, in all weather conditions. "Razor, would you mind telling me why I'm up here, strapped to three jet engines with wings instead of being nice and safe and comfortable in my own aircraft?" "Because, Hunter," Razor began from his backseat, "You might actually have to fly these three engines with wings some day." "Terrific, I'm now expected to fly this heap of krud. I feel like I've been downgraded from test pilot to jet jockey." "You have" T-Bone said over the radio. "T-Bone, what aircraft are you flying?" Hunter asked, not really wanting to know the answer, "Your's," was T-Bone's reply Beneath them an Enforcer jet was also doing a nighttime patrol, its pilot unaware of what was about to happen. The pilot was Lieutenant Felina Feral, and the last thing she expected was a knock on the canopy of her jet. "Hey Razor, what is that bogey at two o'Clock?" "That is an Enforcer jet. IFF says the pilot is.... Lieutenant Feral. She would be on patrol" "Oh goody!" Hunter said with a wide grin. "Razor, put your mask on and turn your receiver to intercom". "Why?" "I'm going to have some fun with the Lieutenant." Hunter flew above and matched speeds with Lieutenant Feral's jet. When he was directly above his target, Hunter rolled 180 degrees so that both he and Razor could look into the cockpit of the Enforcer jet without much difficulty. "Is this your idea of fun, Hunter" Razor complained as Hunter slid open the TurboKat's canopy and knocked on the Enforcer jet's canopy. Lieutenant Feral looked around for the source of the strange knocking before realising exactly where the knocking came from. Looking up she saw the familiar silhouette of the TurboKat, and its pilot waving at her. "Do I know you?" she asked Hunter over the radio. Felina could clearly see Razor in the backseat and, although the pilot looked like T-Bone he wore a long sleeved flight suit similar to Razor's. "I'll be damned. The put down lines in this universe are the same as the ones in mine!" replied Hunter, still not identifying himself and moving from above Felina to her left wing. Felina however knew that it wasn't T-Bone's voice, and Razor had not yet said a word, leaving: "You're that alien, aren't you?" "You where expecting Tom Kruise? What gave me away?" "The way you talk, the way you dress, the way you fly. Need I go on?" Felina said, smugness evident in her voice. "That depends on what you've got on," Hunter shot back, trying to keep the score even. In the second that Felina was thinking of a suitable reply a bulletin came over the radio. "ATTENTION ALL ENFORCER UNITS. ATTENTION ALL ENFORCER UNITS. UFO REPORTED OVER MEGAKAT CBD. ANY AVAILABLE AERIAL UNITS IN THE VICINITY ARE REQUESTED TO ATTEND." "Did you two just hear that?" Felina asked. "I caught it," Razor answered "T-Bone, where are you?" "Port side, low," T-Bone replied. Hunter nodded at Razor as he made visual confirmation on the Raptor's position. "What's wrong?" "T-Bone, this is Hunter. We're going to change aircraft" "Why?" "Because this aircraft is a piece of junk. It's got speed and agility, but nothing else. If I'm going to investigate a UFO, I'll do it in my own aircraft. Got it?" "Not quite. Could you run that by me again?" "T-Bone!" "I'm doing it, I'm doing it," T-Bone mumbled as he deftly landed the Raptor on the roof of a nearby building. Hunter then landed the TurboKat on the same building and jumped out. As Hunter passed T-Bone on the way to his own jet he made inquires as to the readiness of the Raptors systems; the results were pleasing. Seconds later, both aircraft, with their correct pilots, went hunting for a UFO. ************************************************************************ "How do I get myself into these things?" the human pilot of the UFO asked himself as he circled around looking for where LAX should have been. Only hours before he was being briefed by General Drybeck on the route that Flight Lieutenant Hunt took on the day that he disappeared. In the hour before that he was wandering aimlessly around the corridors of Dreamland, wanting to help a fellow pilot yet unsure as to how. This was the how. Fly along the same flight path as Flt Lt Hunt did on the day of his disappearance in an F-15. The F-15 Eagle, being the same approximate size and weight as the F-22 and having similar flight properties, was the perfect candidate for the mission. Loaded with reconnaissance equipment and fuel on every available hardpoint, its pilot insisted on having a full 500 rounds in the 20mm Vulcan for 'self defense'. The pilot, Major Jade 'Jesus Christ' (JC to his friends) Callen, (so called when he was getting his pilots wing when the instructor muttered the famous phrase as he heard that JC was up for assessment - along with a few other choice words). JC was selected for his daring, tenacity and because all the other pilots stayed out of Drybeck's way. Instead of avoiding the General, JC walked directly into his office and demanded to take part in the investigation and possible retrieval of Flt Lt Hunt. That was less than four hours ago. In those four hours the ground crews at Dreamland had, from scratch, serviced, fueled, and pre-flight an obsolete F-15C that had been new fifteen years ago. It seemed that the disappearance of Flt Lt Hunt was one of Dreamland's worst kept secrets, not that anybody cared. The number of people who wanted something to do with its investigation never ceased to amaze the General. When both pilot and plane where ready the recording devices where set and locked into the 'ON' position so that they would continuously record information, no matter what the circumstances. The mission started out perfectly. JC's run over the AAA and SAM sites went off without a hitch, high-speed entry into the canyon, no problem. Exit from the canyon, problem. When Hunter went through the first time, it was with the help of Dark Kat's machine. Then the vortex had become unstable and collapsed like a rockslide, leaving small holes in the dimensional fabric. When a body of similar size and mass approached it was recognised as being part of the whole and was allowed through. And, as being part of the whole, JC didn't undergo the horror of mutation that Hunter went through. In that respect, he could be called lucky. In others he couldn't. From JC's point of view, the canyon disappeared and was replaced by a bridge, and he was know circling around a built up area looking for a major international airport that should be directly underneath him. And now his primitive, but extremely powerful, radar was picking up two inbound bogeys that where only fifteen miles out and closing fast. While JC was concentrating on the two bogeys his radio crackled to life. JC knew that he had left his radio on GUARD, UHF 243, the international distress frequency. "Attention unidentified F-15, you are in violation of MegaKat airspace. Slow to 200 Knots and lower your landing gear," an Australian accented voice ordered JC over the radio. JC did as he was ordered over the radio and lowered his landing gear. When his airspeed reached 200 Knots, he followed protocol and made his transmission. "I am Major Jade Callen of the United States Air Force and I am in United States airspace." On the other side of the transmission, Hunter could barely contain his excitement. He had found what he believed was a pilot from his own world, but he had to make sure. "Do not make any transmissions, Major," Hunter replied "Proceed on a heading of 116 degrees magnetic. Any deviation will result in you being forced down. Do you copy?" "I hear you" On his radar screen, JC couldn't find any aircraft in the area apart from the two bogeys and they hadn't made any transmissions. In fact, they had taken up a holding pattern at twelve miles as if waiting for someone or something. Looking around JC saw why. Behind him an F-22 had taken up firing position. A Raptor with a pilot that had an Australian accent intrigued JC; the only Australian that flew the F-22 that JC knew of was the man he was trying to find. Acting on a hunch, JC entered a twelve-digit number into his radio panel. This was a special prefix number; a code that told the Raptor's computer that it was being accessed from outside. After the prefix, came the scramble code so that the transmission couldn't be understood if it was intercepted, and finally, a radio frequency. Hunter knew that something was happening when someone entered the prefix code for his aircraft, and it was accepted on the first attempt. The odds of that occurring stood at 1.00e+13 to 1 with 1,000,000,000,000 possible combinations! When the radio changed its frequency to a military band with a scramble code, Hunter knew that the pilot of the F-15 was his friend and wingman JC "Talk to me!" JC said when the line was open. "Jesus Christ! What are you doing here?" Hunter asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. "I was in the neighbourhood and I thought I'd give you a call," JC sarcastically replied "What the hell do you think I'm doing here?" "I'd tell you, but then I would have to kill you." "Screw you!" "That, my friend, is the best offer I've had since I've been here." "I'm glad I'm married." "Bet your wife isn't." Hunter's last comment stung and JC let Hunter know in very diplomatic terms. "Hunter, when do we land?" "Three Minutes, present speed." "Good. Because when we do, I'll punch your lights out!" "You wouldn't dare!" "Watch me." As the two aircraft passed the outer marker of the MegaKat City International airport Hunter brought the banter to a halt. JC waited as Hunter arranged landing clearance on that world's busiest airport. The wait stretched into ten seconds, then thirty seconds, then after almost a full minute, JC's radio crackled to life. "JC, we've been cleared to land on runway four. Call the tower on channel 22 and they will call you in." "Roger that. Then what?" "Don't know. I'll think of something." JC was too busy contacting the tower to make a reply. When he was on final approach he re-established contact with Hunter, who was circling above, and told him of the weather conditions on approach. In return Hunter told JC to stay in his jet and not to get out until he told him to. JC was concerned about Hunter's cryptic message, until he saw the small convoy of flashing lights moving towards him. Before he could take any action the two bogeys that he had forgotten about decided to land. The first one was a yellow and grey, opened nosed, single engine, swept wing design. It landed and taxied towards the F-15 and stopped only meters away. Peering through the darkness JC thought that he could make out two triangle shapes on its pilot's head. Further investigation was interrupted by the arrival of the second bogey. This one had the same basic design as an F-14D Tomcat but was longer and had a wider fuselage. This one was painted black with red nose art, bright yellow on the air intakes but with no other visible markings. When it landed it used its intakes as exhaust nozzles for VOTL landing. "Hunter, Gruman is going to kill you when they find out what you did to their design." "Not my fault, JC. They did it on their own." "Whatever. Where can I park?" "Hanger 18, it should be on your right wing. Do you see it?" "Yeah, I see it. Now, what do I do?" "Just park your bird before I shoot you." JC taxied into the waiting hangar where the two other aircraft were already parked, but at the opposite end. Before JC could say anything, Hunter flew in through the still open hangar doors, sideways!, and put down next to JC's F15. When the doors of the hangar shut, JC got the transmission that he had been waiting patiently for. "JC, scramble code 12, please," Hunter told his senior officer. After JC had activated his scrambler to the correct setting, Hunter continued "Major, you are on a parallel world. To avoid meeting yourself, please use our rank or callsign when you identify yourself. Any questions?" "Just a couple, what do I call you?" "Either Captain or Hunter should do. Next?" "Did the apes evolve?" "No, the big Kats did." "Cats?" JC asked disbelief in his voice. "Kats," Hunter confirmed, "Don't tell me your allergic to felines." "I'm not, Rachel is." Rachel was JC's wife; Hunter had met her on several occasions and knew that she was undergoing allergy treatment. "You may now depart your aircraft." "You're so kind," JC said, his voice dripping with sarcasm The half egg shaped canopy of the F-15 opened slowly as its pilot removed his helmet and skullcap and had a quick look around the large aircraft hanger, which was normally used to house the largest of passenger aircraft. JC took a deep breath to steady himself as he cast a glance towards the canopy of Hunter's F-22 that was now open. Hunter was leaning on the edge of the cockpit. When the Major saw the inhuman creature that was occupying the cockpit, he drew his sidearm and aimed it at Hunter. Seeing this, Hunter responded by drawing his own sidearm and aiming it at his superior officer. Hunter knew that if he didn't calm his wingman's nerves soon a shooting match could start and Hunter didn't want to kill his wingman. "Who the hell are you?" JC shouted, "Where is my Wingman?" "Calm down, Major. I'm your wingman," Hunter replied "I'll explain everything else later." "Prove it!" "Remember that time back in '89 when I dropped through your flight formation?" "It was in Nevada." "Actually, it was in South Australia." "What was I flying?" "You were with the 'Aggressors' flying an F-5." "Where from?" "New Mexico." JC paused while he assimilated the information that Hunter had given him. What he had said was true, but it was also on record. He had to think of something that only FLT LT Hunt would know. "What did you say at the beginning of the exercise during the briefing in '89?" JC asked "I said 'Don't shoot me down, I'm with the KGB." "And..." Hunter felt the heat rise into his ears; even after a decade he could feel the stares of the Aggressor Squadron on the back of his head and the laughter of his own ARDU squadron. "I said it in Russian." JC lowered his pistol slightly and Hunter knew that he had, at least partially, convinced JC that he, the Hanger and the city were real. In kind Hunter lowered the sights of his own pistol. In the dead silence that the situation had created, the sound of someone moving came from the part of the hanger that was above the two. JC and Hunter responded by turning towards the sound and firing repeatedly until the magazines on their weapons ran dry. After the echoes had faded and their ears had stopped ringing, the two calmly reloaded their guns, exchanging comment about each other's respective marksmanship. As they did this, Lieutenant Feral and the SWAT Kats showed up from the other side of the hanger where they were waiting, guns drawn and Glovatrixes armed. "Hunter, what the hell happened?" T-Bone asked, leveling his Glovatrix at JC. "We had an intruder," Hunter replied "Lieutenant, you might want to check on Miss Gora's CameraKat; the poor guy is probably going into shock right now." "I'll get onto it," the lieutenant replied before going to a small door that was set in the hangers main double doors. "What is he?" T-Bone asked, pointing his Glovatrix at JC "T-Bone, Razor, stand down. The Major's friendly, most of the time," Hunter added as an afterthought "I'll brief you guys later." "You'll keep, Captain," JC said under his breath, Hunter heard the comment but choose to ignore it. ************************************************************************ Outside Hanger 18 a small media circus had gathered upon receiving word that the UFO landed at the airport and had been moved to the hanger. Enforcer units and airport security were controlling the small but growing crowd intent on seeing both the UFO and its pilot. When gunfire was heard, most of the crowd instinctively crouched down to avoid any stray shots. At the Kats Eye News van, Ann Gora saw her camera Kat, Johnny, stumble up towards her, his paws shaking. "What happened, Johnny?" Ann asked "They... They shot at me!" Johnny exclaimed "They?" Ann said, "Is there more than one?" "No Ann, there's just one alien. But they both shot at me!" Johnny replied, sitting down in the open door of the news van. "WHO?" "The new SWAT Kat." Ann decided that she also needed to sit down as well "Are you telling me that the pilot of that UFO, and Hunter both shot at you?" "Yes!" Ann made a mental note to investigate the matter further at a later date, but first she needed to find out what else Johnny saw. "What did the alien look like?" she asked her distraught camera Kat. "It was horrible, Ann. It had very dark skin, like it had been burnt, almost no fur and its ears where on the sides of its head." Ann was stunned for a moment "Was it male or female?" "I couldn't tell, I was just trying to survive." Ann was about to continue questioning her camera Kat when Lieutenant Feral appeared at the news van. "What happened?" she asked Johnny. Johnny related his story to the Lieutenant. "And what where you doing up there?" Felina asked. "Just getting some tape for the morning news." "Not anymore you're not. I'm taking your tape" Ann was immediately on the ball. "Why Lieutenant?" she asked. "What about freedom of the press? What about the first amendment?" "What about their privacy? What about your ethics?" "What about their weapons?" a third voice asked. All eyes looked towards the technician who was reviewing the film that had sparked the argument. Pointing to the screen with his pen "Just what are these things here, here and here?" he asked as the tape ran. "Well, those three are Reconnaissance pods, those other two are fuel drop tanks. Also known as 'Jugs,'" Lieutenant Feral, Ann, Johnny and the technician let out a yelp as they nearly jumped out of their collective fur. The Lieutenant was the first to regain her composure. "Hunter, what are you doing here?" she scolded. "I needed to get my hands on a phone." Lieutenant Feral handed Hunter a mobile phone as Ann questioned part of his last sentence. "Hunter, what are hands?" "This is a hand," Hunter replied, holding up his right paw and flexing the four digits for effect. "That's a paw." "Whatever!" Hunter hurriedly tapped the numbers on the mobile phone and placed it to his ear. After a couple of seconds the connection was made and the phone at the other end began to ring. When it was answered, Hunter simply said "Sir, I require your assistance." He then went on to describe the situation and listened to the Professor's instructions. When Hunter had made note of what Professor Hackle had said, he pocketed the mobile and turned to Lieutenant Feral. "Lieutenant" he said, "Can I use an Enforcer squad car?" Lieutenant Feral didn't know exactly what Hunter wanted, but she had a rough idea. "You want to borrow a cruiser?" "Whatever, just so long as it can get the Major and myself to wherever we're going in safety." "No dice, SWAT Kat. If you're going to take a cruiser out for a joyride I want to know exactly where you and that alien are going." Hunter looked as if he was going to argue the point, but he suddenly smiled and said, "You're quite right, Lieutenant, I cannot ask you to let me use Enforcer equipment for SWAT Kat reasons." With that, he walked back to Hanger 18, still smiling. Felina wondered what exactly the SWAT Kat was going to do, but thought better of it when she remembered his smile. How could such a warm action make her want to run as far away as she possibly could? Inside Hanger 18 Hunter motioned for JC and the SWAT Kats to come closer. "Razor, is the type II Cyclotron loaded?" "Affirmative, but you don't know how to drive it." "I don't have to. JC here," Hunter said, jerking his thumb at the Major, "Can, that is unless he's lost his knack." "You're gonna regret saying that, boy!" Hunter made his way to the Raptor and retrieved his MP-5 and ammunition, 3 thirty round magazines that attached to his right leg strap. He handed the weapon to JC and asked, "You know how to use this thing?" "Hunter, contrary to popular belief.." "And all the evidence I can dig up." "..I did qualify in the use of automatic weapons," JC said as he checked the weapon "Where's yours?" "There is another one attached to the Cyclotron; I'll use that one." ************************************************************************ At Dreamland, Airman Samuel Denley had just finished checking his equipment for the third time, but the sad truth was that Major Callen's aircraft had disappeared in the same area that had claimed Flight lieutenant Hunt. He called over the duty Sergeant, Sergeant William Carter, for the second time in the past half-hour. The first time was when Callen went missing and Denley was ordered to check his equipment to make sure that it was working properly. This time he knew that the equipment was in perfect working order. Major Callen had vanished Carter had orders to follow; they stated that when Major Callen reported back or if anything happened to him, (such as disappearing), to call the General's adjutant, who would decide if it were important enough to wake the General at three am. It was and she did. The phone in the General's quarters buzzed softly at first but steadily turned into a harsh ringing, rousing the General from his slumber. "It's..." Drybeck began trying to find his watch. After a few seconds he gave up, "...Very early. This had better be good!" "Sorry to wake you General" the adjutant said "But we have a situation" "What type of situation?" "The boys down in the Command Centre have lost Major Callen." "What do you mean by 'lost' exactly?" "One moment he was on radar, on the next sweep he was missing." "Understood. I want a full report by 0730 hours. I'll have flapjacks with maple syrup, hashbrowns and orange juice" before the adjutant could reply, he had hung up the phone and was desperately trying to catch a few more hours of sleep. The adjutant sighed. How on earth would she convince the cook, at three in the morning, to make flapjacks to be ready at seven thirty! ************************************************************************ The Cyclotron stopped at one of the quiet suburban streets that were far away from MegaKat international airport. Had anybody tried to track the Cyclotron and its strange passengers as they left the Airport they would have found out what a strange sense of humour the passenger had. "Did you enjoy that, Tim?" Callen asked as Tim made the final mark on his map. "Oh, yeah!" Tim said, flashing Callen a toothy grin. "Now, North! We're eight minutes out from our destination." "That's about nine miles," Callen said, doing the rough calculations in his head. "Closer to 14 Kilometers, Major. I bet you thought that we where at least 50 miles away, right?" "You think I'm going to admit that?" Callen said starting the Cyclotron. "But with your navigation skills, I wouldn't be surprised if we ended up right where we started." As the Cyclotron sped from its stop, Tim tossed the map over his shoulder. When it came to rest beneath a nearby street light, the evasion route that Tim had ordered Callen to take had been marked in red pen on the map itself. And under the street light it stood out alone. | | ______ /\ | | / \ / \ | | / / \ | | \ / \ | | \______ /________\ | | \ | | | | \ | | | | / | | \________/ \______/ | | . ************************************************************************ Inside Hanger 18, Razor and Lieutenant Feral where crawling all over JC's F-15. T-Bone was trying to work out why the two aircraft had different controls. While the newer Aircraft was obviously the Raptor, if you used a Kat way of assessing age, with digital gauges, warning lights, several computer screens. It had both the look, and feel of a more modern aircraft. The F-15 had dials, few warning lights with only a single radar screen and a single VDU. From what he had seen of Hunter, T-Bone assumed that humans would assess the age of equipment in a similar manner. So why send an old plane to look for a new one? Why not just send another F-22? Mentally T-Bone slapped himself, Hunter was a test pilot and the Raptor was a test aircraft. It would stand to reason that his commanders wouldn't send another F-22 in case the same thing happened, so they sent a lesser plane instead. If an F-15 was their idea of a lesser plane, and the Raptor was a state-of-the art test aircraft, T-Bone wondered what was currently in service. "Bingo!" Razor said, breaking T-Bones train of thought "Apart from the cannon this aircraft is completely unarmed." "They put a cannon on that thing?" Lieutenant Feral asked, poking her head out from under the wing. "A 20mm six barrel rotating Gatling gun, an M161-A Vulcan or, as Hunter would call it, a decent sized gun," T-Bone said "Razor, how much ammunition is it carrying?" "500 Rounds." T-Bone let out a low whistle; 500 rounds could do a lot of damage. Just ask the pilots of the Enforcer choppers that Hunter shot down when he first arrived, but he had used over 700 rounds in that little encounter. "What's so great about this Vulcan?" Lieutenant Feral asked Both T-Bone and Razor looked thoughtfully at the Lieutenant. Finally, Razor spoke "Think of it as a version of our cement machine gun, that has a much faster rate of fire, that fires at much faster velocities over a greater range and will penetrate MegaAlloy armour with relative ease." "It's not something that you want to talk about," T-Bone finished ************************************************************************ Callen stopped the Cyclotron outside the iron gates that marked the boundary of Professor Hackle's home. When they didn't open, Hunter fired one shot into the gates setting off a number of alarms inside the Professor's residence. Seconds later, the gates opened. "Let me guess. You fractured the occasional law?" Callen asked, restarting the Cyclotron. "You could say that," Hunter replied, as the Cyclotron moved through the gates and onto Professor Hackle's estate. The garage door opened. As Callen drove through, Professor Hackle was waiting for them. "My apologies for keeping you and your friend waiting, SWAT Kat" Hackle said. "I have the devices that you require, but first I must determine if your friend is from the same dimension as you are from." "Understood, Professor," Hunter said as he motioned for JC to pass him his dogtags "Would these be sufficient?" he asked. "Oh yes, these will do nicely" Hackle replied, running a hand-held scanner over the metal disks "The computer will take several hours to analyze and compare the quantum frequencies from your identity disks. I suggest that we all get some rest until then." "Yes, professor!" JC and Hunter said in unison, Without breaking into a smile, Hackle went upstairs to catch a few more hours of sleep, while in the workshop JC and Hunter slept back-to-back on an old couch that was next to the computer. The next thing either of the two pilots knew was that it was light out and Professor Hackle was gently prodding them with his cane. "What time is it?" Hunter asked "It has just turned six o'clock," Hackle answered. After checking his watch and finding the Professor's time to be accurate, Hunter stood up. And with no support for his back, JC promptly collapsed onto the couch, still half asleep. No one present noticed his antics. After all, he was a test pilot and thus was allowed to be a little on the wild and crazy side. "SWAT Kat," Hackle began "The computer has completed its analysis and I am pleased to say that the two of you are from the same dimension," Hackle waited for some sort of reaction from Hunter or JC; the only response he got was the sound of JC snoring. "I have made a small dimensional portal generator that will have to be installed onboard your aircraft. It has been pre-set to send you back to your home dimension," Hackle smiled "Fortunately, I made several - you SWAT Kats are so hard on my inventions" Professor Hackle then proceeded to give Hunter a rundown on the dimensional porthole generator and how to install it on board their aircraft. "Ready to go, Captain?" JC asked. "Ready when you are, sir," Hunter replied. Both officers then saluted the Professor before doing a crisp about face and returning to the Cyclotron, carrying their precious cargo like it was the most valuable jewel in MegaKat City. ************************************************************************ The small crowd of curious onlookers outside of hanger 18 was growing into a large crowd, several extra Enforcer units had been called in during the past three hours, and to make things worse Lieutenant Commander Steele had arrived to take command. It was a splendid example of the incompetent leading the unable. "Okay everybody, stand back. This area is under Enforcer control," Steele said through his loud hailer. He then made the hanger and its contents a restricted area and anybody who tried to breech it would be shot. As this was happening, the Cyclotron carrying JC and Hunter had re-entered MegaKat International and were speeding towards Hanger 18. Without warning, they skidded to a halt. "You see that?" JC asked "Yeah, I see it," Hunter replied. Scanning the crowd, he found the who and the what that he was looking for. "Stay with me, Major. I have an idea." "It's official, we're doomed." In the Kats Eye news van, Johnny's mobile phone rang. It rang a second time before he noticed, by the third ring he had answered it. He had no idea who was calling, but he was going to give them an earful for ringing him at a time like this. It was Johnny who got his second shock in three hours when he heard the voice on the other end of the line. After a couple of seconds he silently passed the mobile to Ann, who gingerly put it to her ear. "Hello?" she asked, "Who is this?" "Miss Gora, I'm hurt!" Hunter replied. Ann nearly dropped the mobile. Grasping it in both paws she asked, "Where are you?" while scanning the area. "Check your six," Hunter replied. "My what?" she asked. "Look behind you." Ann casually glanced over her shoulder, out of the corner of her eye. For a brief second, she saw the single headlight of the Cyclotron light up. "You see that?" Hunter asked "Yes, I did. Why are you calling me?" "I need some information and some help." "Okay," said Ann, her reporter instincts kicking in, "What's in it for me?" On the other end of the phone Hunter smiled, "Try the news story of the week!" "Oh, sounds nice," Ann purred "What's the story?" "The departure of the Major and myself from this universe for our own." There was a pause at Ann's end. Then "What information do you need?" ************************************************************************ Two Enforcers where patrolling each side of Hanger 18; JC and Hunter planned to neutralize those at the hanger's side entrance. The guards met in the middle of the their patrol area, turned and walked back. When they had their backs to each other, JC and Hunter would take advantage of the situation and attack. Getting Ann Gora to move the news van close to the Enforcer barricade, JC and Hunter hid on top, waiting for the right moment to pounce on their respective targets. When the time was right, the two air force officers leaped from the news van and onto the patrolling Enforcers. JC landed on his target's shoulders, knocking him to the ground. When the Enforcer got to his feet, JC rewarded his efforts with a roundhouse kick to the head, taking him out of commission. Hunter was having some trouble. He had missed his opponent on the first attempt and received a rifle butt in the face for his effort. Dazed, Hunter punched his opponent several times in the chest and abdomen. While the Enforcer recovered from Hunter's vicious attack, Hunter looped his right arm around the Enforcers neck and was about to snap it when JC called out. "Captain!" he hissed, "Zero body count." Hunter looked at his wingman. "Understood, sir!" Hunter hissed back as he let the stunned Enforcer drop to the ground. Silently running to the personnel door of Hanger 18, they readied their MP-5's to single shot semi-automatic. JC held up three fingers, then two, then one. When he made a fist, Hunter burst through the door. "SWAT Kats! Don't move!" he yelled when he was clear of the door, closely followed by JC who yelled his own warning. The Enforcers where so stunned by what was happening that they offered no resistance when T-Bone and Razor relieved them of their rifles. Steele, on the other hand, was another matter. The Lieutenant Commander tried to make a break for the side exit that JC and Hunter had came through. Seeing this, Hunter turned, dropped to one knee and fired off two rounds at the fleeing Kat. Both bullets hit their mark in his left thigh, effectively stopping him in his tracks. Clutching his leg and screaming in exaggerated pain, the Enforcer second-in-command made a single stride before falling to the hanger floor where Hunter rushed over to him. Rolling Steele over with his foot, Hunter made sure that the Enforcer was alive and unarmed before effortlessly lifting him and carrying him to where the others were waiting. Outside things where just getting interesting. Commander Feral had been woken up less that half an hour before by a phone call from Ann Gora. She had told him that Hunter had asked for the Enforcers mobile command centre to be brought to MegaKat International airport. Feral had heard what had happened through the Enforcer grapevine while he was in transit to MegaKat International. Frankly, he was surprised that it had lasted this long without anyone getting themselves killed. He was confident that Hunter had the situation under control. That was until the call came over the radio that there was an Enforcer down. Silently he urged the driver to go faster, hoping that it was either a false alarm or that the incident wasn't serious. Either way, he needed to get to MegaKat International as fast as he could. The mobile command centre was housed inside a grey semi-trailer with 'MegaKat Enforcers' painted in its side above the Enforcer logo. When towed by a Mac truck with similar colouring, it was a sight to be seen. Yet not such a sight as to divert the crowd's attention from what was happening inside Hanger 18. As the MCC pulled up as close as it could to Hanger 18, both the main doors opened up and two Enforcers carried the injured Lt. Com Steele between them. Feral, wearing Enforcer body armour instead of his trench coat, rushed towards the Enforcers. He asked, "What happened?" "We where attacked, sir," Steele replied "That SWAT Kat and his alien friend attacked us without any warning and.." "Button it, Steele. I didn't ask you!" Feral snapped, turning his attention to the next highest-ranking Enforcer and repeated his question. "The new SWAT Kat and the alien came through the side door," the Enforcer began, pointing in the general direction of the door that Hunter and JC had made their entrance through, "and challenged us. Commander Steele tried to make a break for help and was wounded in the process" Feral mentally translated what he had been told into plain English 'Steele panicked, ran and got shot'. "Then what?" "The alien patched up Commander Steele and made us carry him out here, sir." "Where's my niece?" the Commander asked, the worry in his voice plain for all to hear. "She is unharmed and was still with the SWAT Kats when we left," the Enforcer replied as his commander rushed pass him. When Feral heard the last piece of information he rushed through the hangers' huge double doors. ******************************************************************************** Hunter had his head in the F-15's radar array when he heard the sound of the hangers' main doors being opened and the sound of weapons being drawn. Stealing a peek from where he was working, he saw that both JC and the remaining SWAT Kats had drawn their weapons at somebody. The fact that a shot hadn't been fired was promising. "What the hell is going on here?" a thunderous voice boomed. Hunter gave a small sigh "Not now, Commander. I'm kinda busy." "Doing what?" "Preparing to leave," Hunter said, looking up from the F-15's radar array, and seeing that his support crew had gathered around the irate Enforcer Commander. Walking up to Commander Feral he jibbed "So, Commander. What can I do you for?" "Very funny, SWAT Kat," was the Commander's reply. "I would like to know just what you reckless hot-shots are doing here at this hour and what is that?" he said pointing to JC. "Commander, 'that', as you so rudely put it, is my commanding officer. When he says 'jump' I jump, when he says 'shoot' I shoot. Any questions?" "You still haven't answered my question. What are you hot-shots doing here?" "We are preparing to travel from the here to the there," Hunter said cryptically, reaching into his breast pocket and handing Feral a piece of paper "Speaking of which, can you acquire these items?" Feral looked at the piece of paper. On it was a list of items used for displays- projector, whiteboards, maps etc. Most, if not all, of these items were available inside the airport. It was not his job to reason why Hunter wanted those items. If it would get rid of the crowd outside of Hanger 18 Feral would try just about anything. "Do you need anything else?" Feral sarcastically asked "Coffee, doughnuts, suicide pills?" "Just fill the bloody list!" Feral sensed that the conversation had ended when Hunter turned his attention to his commanding officer and started spouting techno-babble. He left the hanger and began his search for the items that Hunter had requested. JC was pleased that the installation of the first of the dimensional porthole generators in the F-15 was successful. The second one was the cause of some trouble. "What do you mean it won't work?" "Well, Major, I can install it. But I can't turn it on." "You can't turn it on?" "I can have either the Anti-Gravs or the generator. But not both at the same time." "Not enough power?" "Not enough power." Something didn't quite add up. An F-22 had two of the most powerful engines that had ever been used in a NATO aircraft. Someone had tampered with the Raptor's engines, Callen knew that Hunt didn't tamper with the engines and he wouldn't let the SWAT Kats do any modifications either. The only logical solution was that the engines weren't operating at full capacity when Hunt took off at Dreamland. "Install it. You'll have to take the Anti-Gravs off line after we reach altitude." "Roger that." Hunter finished the installation in time for Commander Feral to walk in the door dragging a luggage cart with the items that Hunter requested, including a box of 9mm bullets. "Commander, how thoughtful," said Hunter as he picked up the box of cartridges "Did you get the rest?" "Maps, whiteboard, markers, projector. I even found a table to put everything on." Hunter glanced at the SWAT Kats, as if to say 'And you thought that he couldn't find his butt with both hands'. Turning his attention back to Commander Feral he told him to set up the equipment. A tap on his shoulder broke Hunter's stride as he turned to face his wingman. "What's up, Boss?" Hunter asked. "Are you going to nurse those all night," JC asked, pointing to the box of cartridges that Hunter was still carrying "Or are you going to do something useful with them?" JC was surprised when Hunter handed him the empty magazine that was full only hours before and the box. As an afterthought Hunter retrieved three rounds and inserted them into the magazine of his MP-5 as he moved off. JC took the not-so-subtle hint and began to refill both the magazines that Hunter and himself had used. T-Bone looked at the photograph that Commander Feral had projected on one of the hanger walls. It was an overhead shot of MegaKat central bridge; the same bridge that Hunter had appeared over. "What are you going to do, Commander?" T-Bone asked "I'm going to use twelve Enforcer 'choppers to create a perimeter at 1 mile from the bridge. North being twelve o'clock." "Make it eleven 'choppers, Commander," Hunter said, appearing from the shadows, "I promised Ann Gora an exclusive." "I'll try to fit her in, but no promises." "Understood," Hunter continued. "T-Bone, can you and Razor coordinate the 'choppers from above and make sure that nothing breeches the perimeter?" "We'll do our best." Hunter then beckoned the Major over to where Commander Feral, T-Bone and himself were standing. JC, sensing as to why he was needed, took out his map of the canyon and spread it out on the table. "Our point of entry into this world was along this canyon, here," JC explained. "If we reverse course 180 degrees we have just over a second to pull up." "Or what?" T-Bone asked "Or the boys at the ranch will be picking Hunter and myself off of the canyon walls with tweezers and blotting paper!" ************************************************************************* JC grabbed Hunter's arm as they walked back to their aircraft. "You don't have to do this, Captain," said JC, "You don't have to put your life on the line like this." "Cut the crap, Major," Hunter replied "You still owe me five bucks!" "I had to try," JC said as he gave Hunter a gentle shove towards his aircraft. Felina was stroking the nose of the Raptor, an action that mimicked what Hunter's own actions of a week ago when he did his pre-flight inspection at Dreamland. 'How long has she been standing there?' Hunter thought 'Probably since I burst through the door.' "Something on your mind, Lieutenant?" Hunter asked Felina "Just wondering if I'll ever get a chance to fly this thing." The beginnings of a smile formed in the corner of Hunter's mouth. "Don't worry, Lieutenant. You'll get your chance, you have my word on it" Hunter climbed the ladder in front of his F-22. Just before entering his cockpit he glanced over his shoulder towards T-Bone and Razor, who were already in the cockpit of the TurboKat, and to JC who was in a similar position to himself. "Hey, Major!" Hunter called "Want to earn your money back?" "Sounds like a bet, Captain!" ************************************************************************* T-Bone hadn't heard the conversation that had occurred between JC and Hunter, but the look in the Major's eyes said that something big was going to happen. "Tower from SWAT Kat oh-one," T-Bone said. "Request permission to taxi." "SWAT Kat oh-one," the controller replied. "Permission granted to taxi to runway oh-three west" "Roger that, tower." Hunter watched rays of morning sunlight streak across the TurboKat fuselage and canopy as it left the cover of Hanger 18 and taxied towards the third East/West runway. Hunter considered pushing the Raptor's 'start-up' button, but he dismissed the thought almost as soon as it had arisen. This time he HAD to show off for the crowd; there was a good chance that he might not be able to make a return appearance. "Tower from Black Stallion oh-one," JC said over the radio "Request permission to taxi." "Black Stallion oh-one. Permission granted to taxi to runway oh-three west." "Roger that, tower." With practiced ease, Hunter began to perform a manual start-up of the Raptor. First, he closed the connections to the batteries, giving power to the electrical systems. Next, he used the power from the batteries to start the left engine, when that engine had enough power he used its turbine speed to start the right engine. With both engines running at idle power, Hunter was able to start the internal power and boot up the Raptors flight computer. Hunter wanted to reach altitude fast so he activated his Anti-Gravs, even though it meant that later he would have to turn them off before he could go home. Targeting and navigational systems booted up by themselves, the data that they would provide will be invaluable when it came time for Hunters debriefing. Hunter also decided to keep the undercarriage lowered, manually taking off will be more fun than just floating out of the hanger. Hunter nosed the Raptor out of the relative safety of Hanger 18 and into the morning sunlight. He saw the TurboKat take off and JC's F-15 had just finished taxiing and was awaiting permission to take off. "Tower from Duck-hole two-nine," Hunter said, using his Australian radio call number. "Request permission to taxi and tandem take off with Black Stallion oh-one." "Hold on, Duck-hole," the controller said. Hunter knew that the controller was talking to JC about his request. Apparently, such a maneuver was unknown at this airport. "Tower to Duck-hole two-nine, permission granted to taxi and tandem take off with Black Stallion oh-one on runway oh-three west." Hunter smiled beneath his mask; JC had convinced the flight controller that a tandem take off was possible. "Roger that, tower. Proceeding." Hunter maneuvered his Raptor into position behind and to one side if JC's F-15. "Power to idle" Hunter said. JC was in command of the next maneuver, if Hunter accelerated to fast or pulled up to late the effect could be a disaster. "Set power for 10 knots," JC ordered as the F-15 slowly moved forward. "Power set!" Hunter replied as his own aircraft kept pace. "Keep up, Captain! Accelerating to 20 knots." "Accelerating!" "Stay with me, Hunter. I'm opening the throttle." Under normal conditions Hunter would be fighting the jet wash from the F-15's twin engines and the turbulence created by the wings as the air moved over them, but the computer systems in the Raptor made constant adjustments to the aerodynamics of its wings keeping them stable. JC increased power to his own engines as he rolled down the runway, pleased that Hunter was keeping up with him, when his airspeed reached 130 mph JC gently pulled back on the stick and his Eagle took flight. Behind his mask, Hunter permitted himself a smile, instead of doing a straight take off, why not add a twist? 'Better not' he thought 'I can show off some more later, besides this is something new for the crowd.' Quickly, the pair of aircraft climbed towards 1000 feet, where they would break formation and circle, slowly gaining altitude until they reached 15,000 feet. "Captain, these jugs are killing my maneuverability. I'm going to lose them over the river," said JC. "Make sure that they don't hit the ground." "Roger that" Hunter replied, "Going in hot." Over MegaKat River, JC released both of his 150-Gallon 'Jugs' and three flares for Hunter to target before jinking hard to the right. The heat-seeker in Hunters remaining AIM-9L locked onto the flares before it had left the weapons bay. "Fox Two!" Hunter said as he fired the missile towards the three flares burning between the two falling drop tanks. Within seconds, the 'sidewinder' missile had reached its target and detonated in a spectacular ball of fire that completely obliterated both jugs and their remaining fuel. From the cockpit of the TurboKat, Razor saw JC's F-15 release it's drop tanks and the resulting fireball caused by Hunter's missile. "When you two are finished playing," began Razor, "the formation is almost complete. Get ready." Setting up the helicopter perimeter was easier than it had originally seemed. After Hunter's display of force against Lieutenant Commander Steele the rest of the Enforcers were quite willing to lend what assistance their Commander deemed necessary. Ann Gora and Johnny were in Katseye 2, the backup Katseye news 'chopper (in use while Katseye 1 was under repairs), getting several good shots of Hunter's F-22C and JC's F-15C practice their re-entry maneuvers. Seeing two aircraft of radical design fly at just under the speed of sound so close to his camera terrified and, at the same time, thrilled Johnny. He watched the new SWAT Kat's plane position itself behind and to the left of, what appeared to be, his commanding officers plane and fly straight towards MegaKat central bridge, then suddenly break formation after passing above the bridges central structure, only to circle around, re-form and repeat the process another time. After the fourth practice run JC transmitted the 'go' signal to the Enforcer 'chopper formation and to T-Bone and Razor in the TurboKat. Forming up on his wingman, Hunter went through the final rundown before both he and JC took the final step towards their goal. "A.G's off, portal generator is on-line." "Roger that, Hunter. Put your visor down, it could get bright real soon." "Roger. T-Bone, Razor; thanks for the memories!" Hunter complied, putting his visor down made good sense, not only was the morning sun growing in intensity, but Professor Hackle had said that there would be a high number of free energy photons given off; to Hunter and JC that meant a lot of light. The two aircraft banked towards MegaKat Central Bridge and quickly gained speed as they had done several times before during their practice runs. Closer and closer they flew to their target; the anticipation of the two pilots reached fever pitch. They were now only seconds away from their goal. "Go! Go! Go!," JC shouted over the radio. When he heard this, Hunter activated the generator. In a brilliant flash of pure white light, the familiar backdrop of MegaKat City had disappeared and was replaced by the rusty red walls of the testing canyon at Dreamland. "Pull up! Pull up! Pull up!" "KRUD!" swore Hunter as he pulled the stick back hard and kicked in the F-22's afterburners. "I've come too far to become a red splat," he grunted as he felt the G forces push against his body. After what seemed like an eternity, Hunter cleared the Canyon and reformed on his wingman. "That was a rush!" said JC. "You're right! Let's not do it again. Pull up??" "Yeah, alright. A heading of 138 degrees will take us directly back to Dreamland." "Roger that, Major. You take the lead." ************************************************************************* Alarms sounded all over Dreamland seconds after JC and Hunter re-appeared. To the personal at Area 51 they weren't the two missing aircraft that had disappeared, they were unidentified, and possible hostile, aircraft. "What the hell is going on here?" General Drybeck asked as he stormed into the Operations room at Area 51. Not only was he bothered by the alarm and the organized chaos that it caused, but he was more than likely going to have to skip breakfast. "Two contacts just appeared in canyon Echo five, sir," Airman James Carey said from his radar station. "Are there any birds up?" "Two F-16's are on the tarmac now, sir" the airman replied. "The only other aircraft unaccounted for are Black Stallion oh-one and Whisper oh-one." "Scramble the F-16's!" "Roger that, sir." Another airman handed a computer printout to the General. On it was an analysis of the two contact's EM signature; the first one was identical to Callen's Eagle. The second was similar to Hunt's Raptor, but had subtle differences, yet it was somehow familiar. "Sir, they're transmitting IFF recognition codes and transponder signals." "Verification?" Airman Carey opened and closed his mouth like a stunned fish, "Sir," he squeaked "IFF codes are valid and confirmed as those belonging to Black Stallion oh-one and Whisper oh-one." "Good grief." ************************************************************************* With a small 'click' Hunter shut off his transponder, there seemed no point in keeping it active. "Signal sent," he called to his wingman. "Now what?" "We continue," was JC's reply. "According to regulations and procedures, they should be launching interceptors about now." "And what should we do in the mean time?" "We keep flying." Waiting was the hardest thing that Hunter had done since his initial disappearance. At the back of his head he could almost feel the sensors of the awaiting interceptors bearing down on him. Less than a mile away, the second of the two F-16's activated his targeting radar. Both JC and Hunter's own warning systems flashed, alerting them to the obvious threat. After manually shutting off the alarms, JC opened his mike. "Black Stallion oh-one to unidentified aircraft, squawk and IDENT on GUARD." "Black Stallion oh-one, this is Rapier oh-seven. Come right to 152 degrees and hold." "Roger that." Hunter heard the conversation between JC and Rapier oh-seven, and, although he couldn't place a name to the voice, he had heard the voice around the base before. Running silent, Hunter casually slipped in behind Rapier oh-seven and activated his targeting radar. Only to have a SECOND radar target HIM. "Stand down your weapons, Whisper." "Who the HELL?" Hunter swore, looking over his shoulder at the second F-16 that was mirroring his actions. "Whisper oh-one, meet Rapier oh-six," said JC. "His friend behind me is Rapier oh-seven, or as you know them, Black and Decker" "Oh great, we've been bounced by the Drill Team!" "Timmy!" Black said over the radio; Hunter could hear the cheerfulness in his voice. "Timothy!" Decker said with equal glee. "You're late!" Hunter ignored the verbal barb. "My name is Tim. Timmy is a kid with an all day sucker, and Timothy is some English aristocrat." "Whatever, our orders were to identify just what you guys were and to report back" said Black "So just sit tight for a while." "And if you move, we'll blow you out of the sky!" Decker said with a bad Spanish accent. "DECKER!!!" screamed JC, Hunter and Black. ************************************************************************* "Incoming transmission from Rapier oh-six," said the airman that was manning communications. "The unknown contacts have been visually identified as Whisper oh-one and Black Stallion oh-one." "Have Rapier oh-six and oh-seven escort both aircraft in and have emergency vehicles standing by along with three security teams." "Roger that." Throughout the base, crews scrambled to their posts, sirens wailed as emergency vehicles headed towards Dreamland's auxiliary runway. "Sir! I'm getting a second transmission" the airman reported "It's from Whisper oh-one." "Put it on speakers." "Ghostrider from Voodoo one," Came Hunter's voice "Requesting flyby." The airman looked at Drybeck, who shook his head. "Uh.. Negative Ghostrider, the flight pattern is full." Drybeck's brow furrowed as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Why on earth would an experienced pilot use such a wrong callsign? It sounded like something from a B-Grade movie. His eyes widened in surprise - it was a line from a B-Grade movie, and after that line was delivered... Drybeck hurriedly drank his lukewarm coffee. ************************************************************************* "Well, it's done." "Hunter, please tell me that you're not serious." "JC, I'm serious." Hunter broke formation and headed directly for Dreamland's control tower leaving JC, Black and Decker loitering behind. Hunter leveled his speed at 450 mph, he only wanted to rattle a few windows, not shatter them. At this speed he would be in visual range of the control tower in three seconds and past it in four. "Hunter, you are not cleared for this maneuver," said JC. "So?" "You can't just..." JC's argument came just a few seconds too late as Hunter passed the tower. He imagined that there would be at least one person who wouldn't have caught his movie reference and would now have to change uniform. Turning after his flyby, Hunter saw JC being 'escorted' by Black and Decker. Shutting down his porthole generator and activating his Anti-Gravity drive, Hunter moved into formation with his wingman and continued to be 'escorted' by the two F-16's. "Major, you and the Flight Lieutenant are directed to land on runway two alpha." "Hey, Decker," asked Hunt, "where's two alpha?" "It's the one with all the emergency service vehicles on it!" "Oh.. I knew that!" Hunter proceeded to hover as JC touched down in front of the many Fire engines, paramedical units and about twenty air police. "I told you that you weren't cleared for that maneuvre!" said JC as he saw the size of the reception committee that was armed. "No shit, boss," replied Hunter. Behind him Black and Decker landed distracting some of the air police. "You'd better apologize!" said Black. "Or we blow you into the sky!" said Decker in his bad Spanish accent. Hunter opened the canopy of his Raptor; he knew that he had to face the music about his transformation sooner or later. Releasing the canopy's internal latches, Hunter let the Raptor's hydraulic system open the canopy for him. Reaching with both paws, he removed his flight mask and raised his visor. The Air police cocked their M-16's at the sight of the creature. Nervously Hunter swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "Uh... I come in peace?" ************************************************************************* To be continued.... "Remember T-Bone, when the pin is pulled, Mr Grenade is not our friend" "Gotcha!"