Permission Granted

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"Listen sir, I need to get to this base right here," Steven Stan pointed at the map laid out on the CO's desk.  "It is extremely important that I get there within the hour."

The CO leaned forward, hands clasped together.  "May I asked what is so important?"

"Sir, wit all due respect, I am not at liberty to tell you.  It is a classified order," Steven leaned onto the desk, meeting the CO's glare with his own.

He rang for his secretary, and seconds later, she walked in.  "Yes, sir?"

"Take him to Jewel," he ordered.

"Thank you, thank you sir," Steven saluted.

"Don't thank me yet.  You haven't meet Jewel," he relied and dismissed him.

They sent him off in a jeep...to an airport!  

"Son of a witch!" Steven muttered beneath his breath, watching a squad of P-40s take off down the runway.  Only five minutes after they took off, B-17's were landing.  The last B-17 was sputtering, with black smoke pouring from two of its four engines.  A red flare was fired from it, signaling that wounded were aboard.  It landed safely and ambulances drove to the lucky aircraft.  

His jeep stopped next to a two-seated plane, equipped with a twin-barreled .30 caliber weapon.  A woman leaned on its wing, wearing a white ting-top with standard military green jumpsuit.  The odd thing was that it was not marked with anything that could identify her as part of the air force.  She was gorgeous, but seemed kinda intense.  She threw a headset at him, which he caught, and followed her to the side where he was to be seated.  She climbed up, and offered him a hand.  Once he was up, she glared at him.  

"Don't touch anything on my plane, got it?" she snapped.  I nodded, way too intense for him to handle at the moment.  He checked to make sure the papers were in his pocket.  

"Hope whatever you have to do is important because we will be flying over some very dangerous skies to get to that base," she studied him.

"Great," he groaned leaning his head back.

"You don't fly do you?" she smirked.

"No, I do not fly.  I'm not a bird," he smarted.

"Huh, well, don't throw up on plane because you will be cleaning it up," she dropped into her seat, talking to the tower.  "Permission to take off on runway?"

"Permission granted," the tower responded.


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