<div align="center"><strong><em>Meanwhile, some 55 miles and increasing from the Blue Ridge...</em></strong></div><strong>Heinz von Oberammergau</strong><br/><br/>I followed the fleeing PR-1 into the distance, even gaining on it a little as it circled to land at Vance's Avgas, Service & Rest Strip. It was a  filling station for planes, tractors and farmers' trucks alike, and frequented by pilots who wanted to stop, refuel and take off again without the hassle involved in a stopover at the anthill of an airport Sky Haven could be. The communist seemed to be headed deeper into Free Colorado. What were they doing here, where were they hiding, and why had they gone to the trouble of coming all the way here to get shot down by the Blue Ridge?<br/><br/>Having landed and parked my plane at a stand, I inspected the damage done by Lamarr's goons and grease monkey. Nothing too serious, it seemed. The right propeller and prop shaft were pretty mangled, but wouldn't take too long to replace while they topped up the tanks. The PR-1 must have used almost all its fuel and would take its time to fill up, and it looked like the pilot was getting some minor repairs done himself. I got a coffee from the small restaurant and smoked my pipe until my plane was ready again, equipped with a shiny new propeller assembly, and I climbed back into the cockpit to watch the PR-1 take off again, towards Denver for some reason.<br/><br/>The oblivious communist pilot led me to his rebel base in about forty minutes, a dirt strip deep in hillbilly country surrounded by some shacks, a few tents and tarpaulin covered planes. Circling at about 15,000 feet, I watched the crop duster descend and land at the outpost, just outside a one street, two horse town. What was a whole squadron of communists doing camped out here?<br/><br/>I landed about five minutes after the Defender taxied into place, kept my engines running idle as I climbed out. A woman in a pilot suit and striking red hat was watching me with amusement.<strong>"Looks like you need to hire some new pilots. Better ones, this time!"</strong>I shouted, lifting my helmet with a slight bow and walking up to her.<strong>"The Blue Ridge is headed for Denver, by the way."</strong>