Debbi isn’t sure how to answer.  She never knew Brandi harbored this much hatred toward her.  They were like best friends the first few years they met, but ever since senior year of high school Debbi noticed Brandi put more and more distance between them and she couldn’t understand why.

From Debbi’s point of view, Brandi Schofield is one of the strongest, most independent women she has come across, a trait Debbi admires, if not aspires of herself.  Brandi’s childhood wasn’t filled with opportunities and lucky breaks like Debbi’s had been.  What Brandi accomplished, she did by sheer will.  Debbi often associated Brandi with a phoenix rising up from ashes to greatness.

“Venome was the best thing that ever happened to me,” Brandi continues, “Major General Riley heard about my flight talent and asked me to join his fighter division.”

“How long have you been in it?” Debbi asks, trying to be sympathetic.

“Since it started.  I was pretty much in on the ground floor.”

Debbi’s curiosity grows.  “But why?  You could have made it anywhere else.”

“In case you didn’t notice, the military was shut down after the EC Resolution.  There was no military, except for the UN.  I would have been out on my ass flippin’ burgers if it wasn’t for Major General Riley and Venome.

“The EC Military was only accepting a certain number of fighter pilots equal to their experience and fighter squadron.  So... here I am... just out of Flight School and you think the EC would put me in over pilots with ten, fifteen years of combat experience?”  Brandi becomes flustered at Debbi’s inquiries.

“Maybe, your scores were tops in the Officers Training Corps.  There was a chance...”

Almost furious, Brandi interrupts, “Yes, well, I wasn’t the legendary Debbi Smith: youngest Air Force pilot and winner of Top Gun.  I wasn’t prepared to take that risk!”  She slams her glass onto the tabletop, signaling this conversation is over.

No one speaks during the remainder of the car ride.  Brandi, still huddled in the back seat of the car, is beginning to regret her decision to ask Smith for help.  Debbi has absolutely no right making any judgments about her life.  The thought occurs, once this take-over is complete, Debbi will be Brandi’s superior.  This also does not sit too easily with the Commander, but on the other hand, she has no interest in the Executive Office of the High Council.  From what Brandi observed of Riley’s command, it’s a totally boring position: no thrill and no action.

Since Venome was formed, Riley never once set foot on a battlefield.  He was always too busy giving speeches or addressing some assembly somewhere.  In the past year, he’d even stopped giving speeches and resorted to gallivanting off with women half his age.  He barely took time out of his day to run the regime, which is why he rested most of the power on the shoulders of the High Council.  The High Council, busy with their own lavish lifestyles, has left unsupervised authority to the highest bidder.  For the past three and a half years, the once mighty empire has fallen into nothing more than a corrupt den of thieves.

At one time, Brandi believed in Major General Riley and everything the army stood for.  His reasoning was sound and his convictions were sincere.   The EC Resolution was a disaster waiting to happen, as proven by the economic depression the world has suffered in its aftermath.  Sure, the resolution promised ‘A New Age of Global Peace’, under the misguided belief that a one-world army was the only way to achieve it.

Like it or not, every country needs the military and its lifestyle; war is just an unfortunate by-product.   True peace is only gained through deterrence and without intervention or regulation, there was nothing stopping the EC from overthrowing any nation it wanted.  No one cared.  The general public heard the words ‘world peace’ and immediately swallowed the whole deal.

Major General Riley saw the facade for what it was; he brought the truth to the surface.  Venome was established to preserve military culture and give back the jobs the EC snatched away.  The organization started out for the good but now, it’s almost impossible to tell one from the other.  Now, Venome is the enemy and the game is nothing more than survival.

Once inside Sulphur Springs Valley, the car slows as they arrive at an airfield in the wide-open, country landscape, enclosed by a fifteen-foot-tall, wire fence.  Razor, who had taken the job of driving after the saloon, pulls up to a white, wooden check station that blocks the entrance into the airfield.

Looking out the window, Brandi notices aircraft of every kind lined up in neat rows inside, as well as landing strips and hangar bays.  The installation looks as if it is a private airport, as handfuls of people are walking around, fixing things and waving flags.

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