Riga Planar

Riga Planar

Riga knew the only thing that really mattered was flying. It was why she was up at dawn to check her bird out. Plus she liked the day start. That of seeing the sun rise. Such colours in the heavens. It was different each time. Here it rose early before five. Such was the latitude. It was nice and cool at dawn. The best time of the day. Except when she was aloft in the air. Her plane was painted army green. It was cool and bad ass like her. Pedro knew Riga was bad ass. As did his alternative rock guitarist. So did her squadron mates. The odd big head thought he or she was better. Riga soon spanked their arses in a mock fight. This took place over the base. Everybody knew she was top stick. Few handled a turboprop as she did. Call Sign Riga. Now servicing her plane and quietly singing an old battle folk song. Today would be a good day. She fuelled and did the walk round checks. Time for a coffee and sandwich. She would fly at seven. If this was a war flight she would get a kill before breakfast. Like her lover had done. Twice. That was fine. The little madam had twelve confirmed kills already. Many more would follow. Not just yet. Riga was enjoying the new dawn view at the open hangar door. 

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