Storm Over Vegas

by Alden MacManx

Chapter Six: Check and Mate (in four moves and a bold stroke.)

Back up in Command, Hal called Parseval and Elena to him, quickly filling them in on Project Blue Bolt. “What can we do about it, Hal?” Parseval asked.

“We’re going to nip it in the bud, Parseval. And this is how we’re going to do it.” Hal explained some of the ideas that had come to mind when he found out the full scope of Blue Bolt. The other two Majors listened closely, then broke to get back to their duties. Plot or no plot, there was a big storm coming, and it was up to them to stop it from damaging the city. One thing they agreed on is that they were switching to the alternate call signs.

Hal called his housemate Wordsmythe at work, warning him about the plot, asking him to go tell the Mayor. If he didn’t call back within twenty minutes, he was going to spread the word another way. “I still might. I’ll give you twenty minutes to let him know.”

“Right, Hal. Twenty minutes from now, mark. I’m off.” Wordsmythe said before hanging up.

“Okay, gang, let’s jam a nice big thunderbolt up Hard Ass’ tail, shall we?” Hal said to the Majors. “Parseval, get Bronze Team set. When the Black Team relieves Gold Team, have them get back to the city ASAP and deploy along the old 515 route to knock down anything that comes that way. I’m giving you command of Scarlet and Gray teams, I’m going to be busy.

“Elena, you take my White Team and merge it with your Red and Pink Teams. We have to wait until we see what Chessmaster is up to. You’re going to handle the offense while Parseval has defense.”

“What do you plan on doing, Hal?” Elena asked.

“Do what I do best, Elena. Bust me a storm! Anything Hard Ass and his cronies can build, I can knock down!”

“Whiskey One to Six-Alpha.” Hal heard in his ear.

Raising a hoof to silence the others, Hal keyed his own mic and activated a recorder. “Six-Alpha. Go ahead, Whiskey.”

“I’m on scene with Team One. I have relieved One-Three squadron and sent them ahead. We’re north of the Jean settlement, storm cell Force Five and increasing, bearing zero-three-zero at thirty. Did you inform Blue Star?” Stormcloud asked.

“Affirmative, Whiskey One. I told him. Are you proceeding with Blue Bolt?”

“Yes, I am. This cell is ideal for testing. By the time we pass Sloan, this cell should be at Force Nine or higher, ready for collapse in south Old Town.”

“Very well, Colonel. I’m going to send out a Severe Storm Warning for south and west of town. I’m deploying Flight Four and two of my teams to city defense, Flight Two and my remaining team to back you up if needed. Force Nines are nothing to sneeze at. Should I put off duty squadrons on alert?”

“Good idea, but no, Sleet. They need their rest. If Blue Bolt does not work, we can still divert the worst of the weather away from town. Do your duty, Major, I’ll do mine. Whiskey-One out.”

“Six-Alpha out.” Hal said before switching his mic to a different frequency.

Looking at the map, Hal swiftly plotted the course. “Okay, team, we have about an hour before things really get serious. Time for me to make a radio broadcast, MY way.”

“Hal, how can you justify this action?” Elena asked.

“This falls under poofta rule number six.” Hal said, referring to a famous catch-all rule from the Pegasus Flight Training Academy (PFTA).

Elena blinked. “There IS no rule number six!” she recited, along with Parseval.

“Exactamundo! A word I have never used before, and hopefully will never use again.” Hal commented off-hoofedly as he went to the EA console.

Elena and Parseval exchanged nervous glances. Hal was up to something, and even though they knew the plans, they were not sure HOW he would do it. The only thing they were sure of was that it was going to be weird.

Hal sat at the EA console again. He triggered the top-level alert tones, and waited while they played out. “This is a Severe Weather Warning for the south and west sides of the Greater Las Vegas area, including Charleston, Old Town Las Vegas, and Henderson.

“A line of severe thunderstorms is forming south of Jean, heading northeast at thirty miles an hour, estimated by Colonel Stormcloud to reach Force Nine or higher before dissipating. However, the Colonel himself is ramping up the leading storm, along with his cronies, in a bid to take out the Strat’s radio towers ahead of a coup being led by the Energy secretary to remove General Blue Blizzard from command of the Nevada Aeronautical Society. With that sort of goings-on happening, I wouldn’t sweat the thunderstorms!

“We here at Weather Control, Flights Two, Four and Six, will fix the Colonel’s little red wagon. Your job is to protect you and yours from the potential oncoming storms. This is Major Hal Sleet, duty officer for Weather Control, and the Rainbow King. I now return you to your unscheduled insanity, already in progress.”

Hal turned away from the EA console to look at the shocked expressions of his co-workers. “I think some ponies will owe me a few favors tomorrow.” he said with a confident smile.

“Hal, has anyone ever told you that you are absolutely insane?” Parseval asked.

“Raven does, at least twice a day. Now that I’ve stirred the pot, let’s see about settling the hash.”

Hal ordered sweep flights in front of the storm, to gauge its progress. True to the Colonel’s plan, it was indeed strengthening at a rapid pace, but with one oddity, that being there was no cloud-to-ground lightning. There was some in the cloud, but none going down. He dispatched an element of the White Team, a rook and a pawn, out to gauge the storm itself while the rest of White Team strung itself out along the path of the storm, under the guidance of the White Bishop.

“White Rook Two to Rainbow King.” came a call.

“Rainbow King. Go ahead, White Rook Two.”

“Rainbow King, it appears that Black Team is using an insulation spell on the storm, causing it to intensify rapidly. They are blanketing the entire cloud base and sides with the insulation. They need the entire team for complete coverage. I’m estimating the storm at Force Seven and climbing, passing Sloan, SOA thirty.”

“Roger that, White Rook Two. Maintain over watch of the storm, coordinate with your squadron to maintain coverage, especially after it passes! There could be an entraining effect after!” Hal told his subordinate.

“Don’t try to teach an instructor something she already knows, Rainbow King!” Harper Tune laughed back.

“Just checking, Harper. Have at!” Hal laughed back.

“Roger that, oh lousy guitar player!”

“Now you know why I use a standing bass, Harper! Rainbow King out!”

After that report, Hal turned to his workmates. “Okay, time for some action. Red Queen, you’ll be in charge here while I’m out stormbusting. If I go full balls out, I’ll catch up with the leading edge hopefully by the old 160 interchange. That won’t allow me much time to punch through the blanket before it gets in range of the Strat.

“Have White Team gang up on Black Team. Harass and distract them, so the blanket will weaken some. No combat, just harassing. After I leave, have Red Flight deploy behind me to handle anything that blows by. It’s going to be nasty.

“Gold King, your responsibility is the city itself. Defend it from the worst of what’s coming. You have four squadrons to work with, so you should have the easy job.

“Take care of your ponies, and mine. We may need everyone we can get our hooves on. Time for me to bust open this storm!

“What do winning chess players say?” he called out.

“CHECKMATE!” the three shouted as one.

“I’m out of here!” Hal said as he left Control for the open skies.

As he made his way south from the former Nellis Air Force Base, Hal talked to himself, to keep his focus. “Damn headwinds! I’m gonna have to get tricky to build any speed!” He started alternately climbing and diving, fighting the wind.

The storm he could see ahead of him. It was building in strength and size, easily a mile wide if not more. Lightning flickered inside the cloud, but none reached the ground. “Time to mess around with Stormchaser’s head.” he said as he tuned to the Command frequency.

“Rainbow King to Chessmaster One!” Hal called out.

“What do you want, Sleet? I’m busy up here!” Stormcloud replied.

“You’re going to be busier, Chessmaster. I’m coming out to bust this storm before it reaches the Strat! Blue Star spilled the beans, and I let everyone know over the EA system! You’re done for!”

“Like hell I am, Sleet! I’m going to get my star, one way or another!”

“That puzzled me when I first heard about this plot, weeks back. The penny fell when Blue Star filled in the gaps. The only star you want is a general’s star, and there are only two in the city, the Aeronautical Secretary and the Civil Defense chief. You’re not a real warrior, and Blue Blizz isn’t going to walk off the job any time soon.”

“We’re going to make him look so inept, the Mayor and council will press for his retirement, and I’ll move up into his place.”

“The hell you say, Silas. How did you get roped into this? I would think you’re above such things.” Hal asked.

Stormcloud’s voice sounded a little distant, like he was focusing on something else. “Cornflower is my daughter, Sleet. We Returned together, because I was picking her up from a bar at the time of the Event, drunk off her ass. She has the head for governance. All I want is to be a general officer. Been my ambition for fifty years.”

“You’re not going to achieve it, Colonel. I’m sure the Mayor will have something to say about that.”

“There’s a lot going on you don’t know, Sleet. Some potent ponies will be after your ass, believe me.”

“I’m not about to let you destroy the transmitters, Chessmaster One. That’s my livelihood. My bread and butter. You’re not taking it from me.”

“They can withstand a Force Nine bolt, Sleet. I checked.”

“Those are the original specs, Chessmaster. Anything Force Six and up will overload the surge suppressors. I ought to know. I’ve pulled maintenance on them. A Force Nine strike will blow everything out. Repairs will take months at best!” Hal told the colonel.

“I’m not about to give up now, Sleet! Not when I’m this close!”

“You’re close, I’m closer. No way you are going to mess up my life! You’re going down, you and your group of cronies!”

“If you think you can bust a Force Ten storm, Sleet, you’re higher than a kite!”

“There ain’t enough string to hold me down, Colonel!”

“Buzz off, Sleet. I’m busy!” the Colonel called back.

“Have it your way, Chessmaster One. You’re losing this game! Rainbow King out!” Hal shouted as he switched frequencies.

The flying got increasingly difficult as he neared the massive supercell, which had been gaining strength by the minute, feeding on itself in an odd form of positive feedback. The rain shaft under the storm was virtually opaque in its intensity. Hal made sure his flight goggles were securely placed on his head before plunging in.

Flying inside the storm was as bad as Hal thought it would be. Rain and wind pushing him down, with some hailstones thrown in for variety. He found he had to fly up almost to the cloud base before he could get a good feel of the blanket Black Team had put up.

Said blanket was growing as the storm grew, spreading wider- and thinner. Visibility was near zero, so he used other senses to feel for the storm center and for a high point on the ground below. Once he felt the point, he started building up his bolt. Confident, he tuned his transmitter to the Command frequency and keyed his mic.

“Rainbow King to Chessmaster One!”

“What are you doing, Sleet?” came the reply.

“Declaring victory, Chessmaster! CHECKMATE!” Hal shouted before triggering the biggest bolt in his life, so far.

The insulating blanket was spread wide and thin. Hal only had to penetrate it at one little point. A point no bigger than a pin, backed up by the biggest charge he could muster from the ground. The flash of light was enough to dazzle the pegasus, and the thunder was like a hammer blow, knocking Hal tumbling, dislocating his left wing and knocking him out momentarily. The lightning bolt was of a rare type, a vertical bolt, from ground to cloud, so intense he felt the heat from it before passing out,

Hal recovered consciousness to find himself falling, helped by the wind and rain of the collapsing supercell. He tried to right himself, but his left wing complained mightily when he tried. So, his foggy mind reverted to an old part of his life- the submarine dive trainer back in New London, Connecticut. He trained long and hard how to pilot a sub, and now the old routines came to mind.

“Emergency blow forward main ballast tanks, pump ten thousand pounds to after trim, full rise stern planes, fifteen rise on fairwater planes, engines back emergency! We need to get the bow up before we hit bottom!” Hal heard in his head.

Slowly, his flight leveled off from a power dive to a more level flight, but still descending. “Okay, I think I’m going to pull out of this. Now to shed some speed. Why does my left side hurt? I need some more altitude! Got to pull up!” Hal thought as he tried just to remain stable in the tailwinds. “I wonder how close to the ground I am.”

He didn’t have to wonder long as a hoof clipped something, causing him to lose control and slam into the ground, sliding across the sand before starting to tumble. Before passing out from the pain, one last thought crossed his mind. “Too damn close…” ,