"Stinger, this is Planter, go ahead."

"I heard your comms traffic sir. The Kristang ordered me to target the school in Habitrail. I refused the order." Disobedience was getting to be popular.

"Roger that, Stinger, thank you. We're going to roll out-"

"Shit!" Stinger shouted. "I've lost control! Controls aren't responding! My gunner can't lockout weapons!"

"Scatter!" I yelled, waving my arms and pointing at the Chicken that was approaching low from the southwest, weapons pods extended. "The lizards have control of the gunship!" Everyone ran, I dove into a ditch on the side of the road, until I realized in a flash how stupid and useless that was. And selfish. The lizards had a problem with me, not my command. So I stood up and waved my arms at the Chicken, trying to attract attention. My plan, if you could call it a plan, was to give a single finger salute after the lizards launched a missile at me. That was stupid also, the lizards probably didn't recognize rude human gestures.

Except they didn't launch at me. The Chicken's remaining two missiles streaked off the rails, over our heads, and hit the school with a fiery explosion. "That wasn't us!" Stinger shouted frantically. "Oh shit! They cut power! We're going down!"

As I watched, the Chicken staggered in the air, then dropped like a stone from about three hundred feet, smashing to the ground with great force and plowing a trench in the soil a quarter mile south of me. Without me saying anything, soldiers began running to the crash site, I got there first because I wasn't weighed down with the full battle rattle of the others.

The Chicken was way more intact that I expected, whatever the hamsters made them of was tough stuff. The tail and both winglets had broken off, the whole thing had rolled 360 degrees, but the cockpit and power center behind the seats was mostly in one piece. Not so for the two human occupants. The gunner in the front seat didn't have a head, an engine fan blade had broken loose and sliced him up good. The pilot behind him, I saw the nametag on her flight suit said 'Collins'. She was missing the lower part of her left arm, and blood was running from her mouth. She wasn't conscious, carefully I unbuckled the strap and lifted off her helmet, which had a big crack front to back. It was ugly.

God damn. How the hell was a girl, I mean woman, this young flying a Chicken? Even beat up like she was, she looked younger than me. "Uhhh." She groaned and opened one eye.

"Shhh. Don't move, Collins. I'm Colonel Bishop, I’m Planter."

"I couldn't stop, sir, I couldn't, stop," her voice faded, although her lips still moved silently, trying to talk to me.