I darted into our plane, hopped into the pilot’s seat and took the controls of our wing-mounted Maxim machine g*n. Fortunately the plane’s nose was pointing towards our camp. The Maxim’s linkage was wonderfully maneuverable. And its haw-haw was cathartic. As I blazed away, I found myself weeping and yelling Baxter’s name over and over. A man possessed. Within a few minutes, every dirty flying slug within my range had been ripped to shreds.
haw-hawBut then I ran out of bullets, and there were still a half dozen of the flying slugs left. These particular fellows had learned to be leery of Vivi, Urxula, and me. They hovered above us, twitching their flight tendrils, as if unsure what to do next.
A standoff. I was still in the plane, the two cuke women had their saber-wings, the ultrasound s
