copyright 1993, by Alex Mickschl

"Screw this! Gimme another sickbag if they're gonna start flying like maniacs again!" yelps Bond, a newbie fresh from Hareborne training.

"Relax, Jamie, you'll be on the ground soon enough." Lt. reassures, "Touchdown in two mikes. Everybunny, prepare to debark!"

The interior atmosphere of the 'Angel coagulates at an exponential rate as torso bars release the troops from their seats and they stand, hanging on for dear life to a bulkhead or improvised handhold. Adrenaline flows freely through the rivers of their being. Weapons lock and load. Wind and dust goggles go down.

"Yeeeaaaaaah!!! Let's do it!!" the primitive battle cry bellows forth from the heavy gunner, PFC Harvey. Too intelligent to be a trooper, too stupid too know better. An enigma of a rabbit, but trusted by his fellows. Essence of Bravery, it is rumored, pumps through his veins and not the blood of a mortal rabbit.

"Aw, Frack! Bond just hurled all over the fire extinguisher!" reports Vinanti, the medic, who winces at the pathetic state of Private Bond.

"Khai! What an interesting smell you've created, Bond. Thanks for sharing it with all of us!" snides Richter, the rocket gunner of the squad. Then slaps Bond on the back of his ballistic bunnyarmor, "Suck it up, hero! Drink some water and drive on!"

The only sound heard by rabbit or man alike on this bright clear summer's day was the tumultuous thunder of war. In order to effectively engage Imperial targets, Hazel and Teal squadrons' 'Angels fly in rigid formations, their only defense to drown the enemy in a wave of suppressive fire, hoping they would be overwhelmed and unable to fight back. The tactic looks good on paper. In reality, fixed Imperial defense posts have no choice but to keep firing until the end. Hazel and Teal let fly every missile in their arsenals and grip auto-cannon triggers with white knuckled determination. Smoke trails from a thousand laser-guided harbingers of devastation streak through the air and 30mm tracers spray the mountainside. Jagged eruptions sprinkle the landscape, smoke and flame rise from eliminated targets, but the smoke screens the view of the Imperial counter attack. The 'Angels tight formations scatter into a swarm, hoping to confuse enemy targeting radar. The maneuver succeeds, but only to fate an entire salvo of missiles locking on one 'Angel.

Hazel 7 disintegrates in a sphere of light and plasma as her power plant is torn asunder by the overwhelming Imperial missiles.

"I can't believe you convinced me to volunteer for this felgercarb, Macrae!" yells the Hareborne trooper across the crew compartment. "I can't help but stand here thinking about how damned crazy this is!"

"C'mon now, Brodie, you know I promised your Mom I'd look after you and keep you out of trouble. No worries, Bro!" heartens the trooper's comrade. "Besides, you've got the luck of two rabbits feet on your side!"

"Macrae," gently inquires the young soldier, yelling over the noise of the engines, "What the hell are talking about?"

"Cripes, Bro, you know... About how humans think..."

"What have you been smoking, Mac?"

"You know... their society thinks a rabbit's foot is lucky?"

"You've obviously hit your head when we came out of hyperspace."

"Serious, Bro. Those crazy humans believed it for centuries."

"I really wish I knew what you're rambling on about, Macrae!"

"Hey, Kerr!" Macrae diverts his focus, "tell Brodie about how humans believe in lucky rabbits feet."

"Never heard of it, Mac," replies Kerr, shaking his head.

"You rabbits are pathetic," quips Macrae, trying to hide his playful smile, "You're supposed to know your enemy, guys!"

"I know enough dirt about humans to plant a garden, Mac," the older Sergeant Kerr grins. "Your claim to their rather macabre superstition pales next to their obsession with SAT scores!"

A ripple of laughter flows through the troop compartment temporarily loosening the fist of tension.

Brodie smiles slightly at his lifelong friend. Macrae's bucktoothed smirk, a heartbeat later, is swallowed by a blinding flash of light. Brodies body slams into the bulkhead and an intense heat singes his whiskers, sharp stings pepper his arms and neck. Then a sudden deafening rush of air snaps him back into coherency only to see a gaping hole in the wall of the troop compartment where Mac once stood. Shredded power cables hiss and spark wildly. The rush of air from the 'Angel's velocity completely smothers the shouts of alarm and the cries of those wounded in the blast. Brodie's silent scream of anguish rips at his throat while tears distort his view of the landscape rushing up to meet their 'Angel.

"Grab the wounded and strap them in, dammit! Hurry!" orders Sergeant Kerr over the troopers helmet-comms.

Brodie tries to move to help his comrades, but an overwhelming dizziness collapses his legs while the sensation of warm, thick fluid flows down his chest and arms. Strong forces hoist him up and restrain him. Macrae's visage floats in his mind and reassures his promise will be kept. In the comfort of his friends protection, Brodie lets the blanket of unconsciousness envelope him.

The breach of hull integrity was the least of this Guardian Angel's problems at the moment. "This is Teal 6, I'm hit! Concentrated laser fire coming from 4689 mk 3. Lost most of my starboard wing and hover capability. She's smokin' like a camel and losing altitude. Won't be able to complete my run. Gonna have to make an emergency landing on the mountainside!"

"Teal 6 this is Teal leader, hang in there as long as you can! Teal 4 and 5, follow him in and drop your litter to cover them!

Teal 6 struggles with the 'Angels flight stick as the craft bucks erratically. Power surges from destroyed components backwash through cockpit systems and sends white hot sparks dancing across Teal 6's face shield while gray smoke drifts across his view. A tangled web of anti-aircraft lasers crackle through the air searing deep wounds into the superstructure of the falling 'Angel. His voice sounds through the helmet-comms of his litter, "Brace for impact....."

Shrieks from tearing metal and bellows from crushed earth resound in the crew compartment of Teal 6. Few remain conscious as the strain of inertia pummels the soldiers beyond physical fortitude. But they don't call them "Guardian Angels" for nothing.

"Teal 6 has crashed on the mountain side right in the middle of a fire ant hill!" reports Teal 4, "There are four heavy gun emplacements dug in deep just below them. Looks like we'll have to get real creative on this one."

Decisions during combat are always the hardest but must be made for the good of the many, despite any sacrifices and Teal Leader knows this fact all too well. "Teal 4 and 5, do what you can to support them, but I don't want any more in their situation, got me?"

"Aye-firmative Teal Leader. Time to pop a can of Raid on these pests!" Hazel and Teal squadrons deal a devastating blow to Imperial forces. The mountainside pocks with the smoldering hulks of gutted defense artillery, anti-aircraft lasers, and hover tanks. The relatively fast moving 'Angels prove difficult targets for the massive Imperial weapons systems.

Dawn settles amongst the imperial wreckage in blazing fury. Her autocannons glow red, spitting a ceaseless barrage of fire. Her belly ramp lowers to allow the deployment of her litter.

"Love ya, babe," Corporal Perry kisses his paw and presses it gently on Dawns hull, "See you soon!"

"GO! GO! GO! Get on line behind that rock formation and give cover fire!" Lieutenant Sutton orders.

The equipment laden Hareborne troopers rush forth from their armored protectors, seeking immediate cover on the rocky landscape. Air blasts from other landing 'Angels kick up clouds of dust and small rocks. The sounds of war seem a muffled whimper next to a squadron's number of engines wailing all at once to land. At touch down, each 'Angel off-loads its litter of troops, who charge forward taking up positions in the crags and crevasses of the mountain. Sergeants transmit commands to their troops over helmet-comms. Fire teams move tactically, determined not to engage any of the Imperial weapons nests head on, but evade and move into flanking positions. But even the best thought plan never survives the first engagement with the enemy. So it is said.

Bravo group screams overhead to cover the vulnerable craft on the ground. Imperial loses are high. This time each 'Angel only has about seven or eight targets each to worry about. "Let's finish this milk run, Bravo group, and get our litters down there where they're needed!" The sky chokes with smoke trails from another torrent of missiles as they bear down on the hapless Imperial defenses.

Over one thousand Hareborne troopers infest the base of the mountain. One by one at first, then random clusters of Alpha group rise from the Earth in clouds of dust swinging and dodging enemy fire. In a flash of the eye a concealed Imperial anti-aircraft gun opens up, shredding the wing of an alighting 'Angel. The engine torques itself from the wing and sends the 'Angel slamming back to earth. The landing gear buckle from impact and a fire ruptures from a fuel cell in the aft of the hull.

"Teal Leader's hit! She's down!" shouts her wingman.

"Teal 2, where's it at? Where's it coming from?"

"I can't get a visual on it Teal 3, too much dust! It's tearing her apart!"

Without time to think about it Teal Leader throttles up the starboard engine of the bleeding 'Angel. It whines tenfold decibels, limping her invalid half around to bear on the assailant. Twin autocannons whir to life and a storm of projectiles ventilate the Imperial and ignites its ammo compartment in a rumbling flash of photonic radiation. Smoke starts flowing from the redlined engine and twisting metal groans as the craft toils to swing around to face another enemy position. The 'Angel is an easy target for Imperial tanks and is struck several more times, tearing away chunks of superstructure, leaving a mangle of wires and spurting fireballs from breached fuel cells.

"Teal Leader, eject! Eject! C'mon, Natalya, get out of there! Please!" begs Teal 3.

"Can't.... My litter are pinned by heavy fire and I have to protect them!"

"Teal Squadron, form up and give cover for Teal Leader!" shouts Teal 2.

Internal explosions and scorched electronics interfere with Teal leaders signal to her comrades, "Negative, Teal Squadr..., continue mission...," she winces, "You've got to mak... strafe runs to cover Bravo groups insert... To the last, my brethren! To the last...," static fills the comms of every pilot.

"Cripes! She's gonna blow!" a soldier warns, "Everybunny down!!" The Hareborne troopers scamper to put cover between them and the sanguinary 'Angel.

Teal Leader's auto cannons continue pulverizing the mountainside shredding two tanks and an artillery piece before the 'Angel's power plant goes critical. Debris scatters in all directions and the fiery tattered skeleton of the 'Angel collapses to the ground it fought for.