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Chapter 9: Blue Thunder 2 - Millennium Thunder
Written by Michael Erickson
Copyrighted Columbia Pictures, 1983 - 2002

Based on characters and events by Dan O'Bannon and Don Jackoby


One of the things about passionate lovemaking that Ralston loved the most, was relaxing in the afterglow. Annette lay next to him, on his right, sound asleep and naked under the white sheets. She snuggled up to the pillow and let out a small sigh of satisfaction and love. Ralston often wondered how he got to be so lucky. Having met Annette when he did was a blessing. Three years ago, on April 14th, 2000 AD. Right after he busted his ex-girlfriend, one Annabelle Thomas and her entire dysfunctional family for committing an act of illegal smuggling. Not only did Annabelle get killed in the deadly crossfire between her family and the police, her entire family (brother Greg, mother Dorothy, her soon to be husband Charles, and her new stepfamily) were also killed. He had not seen Annabelle since 1999, when she used to be a floor director at WAVE 3 news. When she had cheated on him and he found out, through evidence by fellow officers, he immediately faced her with the facts and broke up with her. It was such a shame that she turned to a life of crime. Like her late father, Charles Thomas had.
Rising out of bed, and careful not to awaken Annette, he walked into the living room of Annette's well-furnished apartment. A rather spacious place that was a melding of 21st Century high-tech and 20th Century antique collection. She had quite a lot of tomohawks and other Native American artifacts. Not to mention, memorabilia of Shakespeare and the Kentucky Opera. Like him, she was a devoted patron of the arts. In the entryway the walls, ceiling and floor were all mirrored. Whenever a person walked in, it was like a floating sensation.
Looking out of the window of the highrise apartment near Slugger Field, he watched over the Ohio River, and one of the barges that was slowly going across its blue surface. He then turned his attention to the television screen in the small living room. Turning it on, he was catching the 11:00 news. Turning it over to WAVE 3, he caught both Scott Reynolds and Cheryl Case giving out the latest in media information. He had to hand it to both of them. They were unlike Jamie Hamilton. They were professionals. Despite that, it did not change Ralston's view of the media at all. Sometimes he wondered if anyone could believe what was in the media anymore. Most of the time, The Courier-Journal could not get its facts straight, or even list the right schedule information for basic cable.
Case, a pretty redhead, began speaking about a news event follow up. Something that got Ralston's attention span.
"The FBI recently established a link between the bombings of the Preston's Arts and Crafts stores in both Louisville, New Albany and the Jeffersonville, Indiana radio station WAVG 1450," Case began, reading her teleprompter, off screen. "Several pieces of evidence linked the bombings to another incident that happened in January of 2000. The Indiana University Southeast campus in New Albany had been the victim of a series of bombings, long before the station and two stores had the same fate. Police and various FBI personnel have been unable to establish a lead on the people responsible."
Ralston had remembered that a series of bombs had gone off sequentially in the IUS Police Division, the Library and its computer lab, the office of the Vice Chancellor of Student Affairs, the director of Student Disabilities, the Career and Employment Division, the Computer Science Lab, and two Computer Areas in Knobview and Crestview Hall. Three other bombs were also detonated in two computer instructor offices, along with the office held by the head instructor of the Journalism department. What had even been more shocking was the fact that everyone who had worked in those office spaces were killed. Police officers, staff, students, and all. Whoever had planted those explosives had timed their detonation right, and placed them in excellent concealment. Almost fifty people had been killed.
Even the entire staff at both stores and the radio station were killed. Ralston had later deducted that it might have been someone who had a violent grudge toward the people of those places. Someone who was worse than Timothy McVeigh.
Ralston finished listening to the news and began to turn it off, when he noticed that the next segment of the news concerned, not only the family that had been butchered, but of the new helicopter prototype being tested this coming Saturday. For Thunder Over Louisville. He listened as Jake Kline was being interviewed, along with both Bowman and Richter looking as uninterested as usual.
"Frank was not kidding," he murmured. "Those two do bring a bad stink to the operation."
Ralston listened and observed closely to what was being said. From the explanation of the helicopter and its functions, to its purpose at the Derby Festival. The people involved with project ARIEL were not kidding when it came to media coverage of the project and its primary function.
"Holy shit," was all Ralston could say.

The police helicopter pilots that were scheduled for duty that evening were about ready to start on their assigned patrols, when Xavier Horton hid behind one Jetranger. Dressed as a mechanic in generic overalls, he found an engine compartment panel open and placed a small cartridge inside and behind another panel, close to the aircraft's turbine engine. Flicking a small switch on the cartridge, he stepped back, and immediately placed another cartridge inside another identical helicopter from Frank's fleet. He repeated the process one more time on another helicopter. He pretended to check off a checklist on a clipboard as he opened the panel of another, placed the bomb inside, and closed it again.
Satisfied at the task at hand, he immediately made his way back to the stairwell of the heliport. After reaching a nearby exit, he pulled out a small black box and extended the antennae. Flicking the safety cover off, he activated the device in his left hand. With a slight pressure of his thumb, he flicked the small previously-protected switch.
At the same time Officers Derrick Thompson and Ross Watson were strapping themselves into the first Jetranger Horton had rigged, their doors not even closed. Two of the Jetrangers near them exploded in loud puffs of black smoke, fierce heat and orange flame. Both men had the look of surprise, shock and terror.
The African-American pilot and former Army sergeant inside their rigged helicopter exploded in flames, taking them with it. They never knew what had happened.
As the firetrucks arrived on the scene and everyone rushing out to the chaos, Horton disposed of his mechanic's outfit and slipped away unnoticed. He finished another phase of the operation.
It was time to move on to the next part of it.

Related pages:
1. Blue Thunder 2 - Millennium Thunder
2. Blue Thunder 2 - Millennium Thunder
3. Blue Thunder 2 - Millennium Thunder
4. Blue Thunder 2 - Millennium Thunder
5. Blue Thunder 2 - Millennium Thunder
6. Blue Thunder 2 - Millennium Thunder
7. Blue Thunder 2 - Millennium Thunder
8. Blue Thunder 2 - Millennium Thunder
9. Blue Thunder 2 - Millennium Thunder
10. Blue Thunder 2 - Millennium Thunder
11. Blue Thunder 2 - Millennium Thunder
12. Blue Thunder 2 - Millennium Thunder

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