Super Trick or Treat System

On the plane's thick shatter-resistant glass windows, tough and elastic, machine gun bullets will only cause temporary dents. As the ship rolls, the noon sun shines brightly. Along each side of the small room, high above the curve of the cabin roof, the windows are adjusted. Other people like them are on the floor. Moreover, at the top, the same piece of glass makes a transparent dome, which the observer can see from all sides.

Outside is the thunderous roar of ten giant engines, but in the cabin-in the fearless fire control room in the air-the sound of the explosion is more reverberating and trembling than the actual noise.

Of course, as the fighters roared, the sound of the motors and the tilt of the thrusters did not prevent the free conversation between the three people in the room. However, there was neither laughter nor small talk.

Captain Farrell was sitting in front of a pile of instruments at a built-in table. Further on, Colonel Culver and Smithy sat in sturdy chairs. Sometimes the captain will speak to the transmitter and cut in by telephone from different locations on the ship.

"Please check the right wing machine gun, Sheriff, this is the second place on the top battery of the wing. According to reports, the recoil mechanism is very strong... Tell Lieutenant Chicago that we will need a thousand gallons of air, only gasoline, no oil. Needed. .... Gun room? The gunmen need to sleep for a while. Later they must be on standby..."

Colonel Culver said vaguely. "Guerrilla warfare is the most difficult to encounter."

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Missy nodded absently. He stood up and stared from one of the side windows that were flush with his eyes. He couldn't see anything except the broad wings and a piece of smooth gray metal. Along its front edge is a row of twinkling disks in which a huge propeller spins. A two-inch-long Richter recoilless protruded from the top of the wing. It rose in the air until the entire weapon could be seen, and then settled again and buried in the wings.

They are testing guns. Smith knew that there were other guns and personnel in the wing section, as well as smoothly running engines. The entire ship is just a huge flying wing, and its central part is just a thickened part.

He looked down through the bullseye on the floor. The city they had just left is below them. National Capital Washington; the golden dome of the Capitol quickly slides back. Only then did he give a belated reply to Culver's statement.

"Okay," he said briefly, "they have to do it in their own way. We told everything we know. Many benefits are done-no!"

"Five days!" Culver said. "It seems that five years have passed since the devil first appeared. No one knows where they will attack next. But they are working north and there is no trouble knowing where they have been."

Smithy's voice echoed enthusiastically, and the intense anger of a young, enterprising man confronted him with the slow and difficult actions of large organizations.

He yelled: "If we went underground, that would be fine." "A battle was launched against them! They lived there-there must be a whole world underground. We could have carried power lines and lighted the place along the way. We could have Fighting with gasoline. We paid for this. Of course, we will, but we have given them enough **** to make them unable to think of the position below, so that they will not lift too many things above.

"But no! We have to fight according to the textbook. Those red demons don't fight like that; they never learn the rules."

Colonel Culver repeated: "In guerrilla warfare, it is difficult to fight an invisible enemy."

"They are smart," Smith admitted. "We taught them the lessons of their lesson in the desert-they have never been seen in the daytime since then. Going out at night-their invisible heat rays are ignited in the city a mile away Fire, and then extinguished them with a green flamethrower. If anyone goes away, even if they fly without lights, they will pick our plane out of the sky. Darkness is meaningless to them! Send troops to the troops to deal with them It’s a murderer who wiped out the troops to one person! Artillery-that’s not a good thing. When we don’t know how many demons or where they are, when the barbarians return to the ground, it’s no good to shell this place."

Colonel Culver issued a warning look from Smith to the officer sitting. He solemnly admitted: "The best fruit country on the planet is about one hundred square miles, which is simply a waste." Then he tried to turn from his rebellious mood to Smith:

"What is underground, do I want to know? It must be a cave world. Or maybe these people can follow a crack or a fault line and open it with a flamethrower so they can pass through."

The captain of the plane caught Culver's attention. "Say your words," he said cheerfully. "Don't stop my account. Mr. Smith said a lot, but you don't know what happened."

He has already turned halfway. Now, he was sitting in his small swivel chair and spinning around, the bottom of the swivel chair was firmly fixed to the floor, and the end of the seat belt hung down.

"My order is to send you two gentlemen in San Francisco. But there is a show scheduled to be south of there tonight-two hundred planes of various sizes, scouts, cruisers, and fighters. They will be swarming. When the enemy broke in for the first time, we usually stormed violently on the mountain along this route. I'm afraid I must swing south." He laughed openly when he turned back to his desk.

Colonel Culver smiled. "Atboy!" he said.

But Smithy's forehead was still frowning as he walked to the next room. "Underground." He was thinking. "We must hand over the fight to them; we must lick them so that they can be licked. But Li Huai-the good old dean-we are too late to help him. All the lives of the devil are left in hell. Pay the price."

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Missy has been sleeping. A sharp sirens made him wake up immediately. Culver also gingerly jumped on his feet. Both knew that the signal was a call to the dormitory.

They spread a blanket on the floor of the fire room. Culver immediately folded him into a compact bundle, and Smith followed closely, as he said: "Yes; we don't want feather beds flying around here."

Even Culver's simple act of putting the blanket back into the cubicle shocked him. His nerves were suddenly full of expectation. A real battle! Determined! I don't know what these big fears can do. Captain Farrell said that there are 200 of different sizes. If they can catch the enemy in the wild, please show him in the huge fire.

Captain Farrell called them. A part of the floor was raised mysteriously to form a platform under the shallow dome of the conning tower. Farrell was there, with headphones clipped to his ears and one hand on the small switchboard at the bottom of the glass dome, which kept him in touch with every station on the ship. Next to him is a firefighter with the same equipment, although his headset is only connected to the gunman.

His enemy is out! "Captain Farrell said: "Not only within their expectations, but also creating 14 types of hell. The boat has been booked. I have contacted the broadcasting room now. They are less than a hundred miles away. Of course, we will not be mixed, but I think it is better to let my man stand by. "

He pressed a small lever on the switchboard and spoke into the mouthpiece of the headset. "Pilot room? Our two passengers, Colonel Culver and Mr. Smith, all came forward. Let them see everything in the show."

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