Part One: Part 1

Chapter One
Prologue

	"Hey ell tee... Ell tee, wake up." 

	The room, though dimly lit, let enough light in to bathe the six sleeping occupants in an ambient orange glow. Rubbing the bridge of her nose and propping herself up on her elbow, she winced as the butt of her rifle dug into her side.

	"What is it?" 

	"Gunny wants a word with. Said something about Bravo team tomorrow... or something."

	Archer ran a hand through her brown shoulder length hair. Sighing, she slung her weapon over her shoulder and tip toed out of the small room that had been converted into sleeping quarters. Closing the door lightly behind her she stretched, rubbing out a few sore muscles. The two started the walk toward the opposite end of the hospitals second floor.
	
	"Nice to know I got a little sleep in today." She said as she yawned.

	"I know right? First time in how long?"

	"About as long as we've been across the Mexican peninsula, so about that maybe."

	Fisk, their resident field medic counted a few things on his fingers and shrugged. 

	"Around six or seven days I guess. You think that chick's worth enough to get us a ticket outta country tonight?"

	Archer looked up at the ceiling in thought.
	
	"I don't know what she's worth, but I'm seriously hoping its more then nothing." Sighing she wiped a sleeve across the glowing red monocular visor. "My optics took a shit half way out here and its been a pain as of late."

	He stopped and looked down at the P90 sub-machine gun at her side. The gun's sight looked clean and well taken care of. There was a small aperture for a laser marked red dot sight, but it was removed.

	"You know ell tee, I can take a look at that for you."

	She looked down at the weapon then back at him with a blank expression. Realizing he had misunderstood her she grinned wide.

	"You're a piece of work you know that?"

	Fisk stopped walking and gave her an uneasy look. "I don't understand."

	"Not those optics boyo, these." Making sure the optics lens could see him the whole time, she lifted the black visor above her eye brows. His face fell, then straightened again as he regained his bearing. A scar ran from temple to temple across her nose. The retinas of her eyes a dulled gray. "I've never showed you this before?" She asked, snapping the visor back into place with an unsettling plastic click.

	"No." He started walking again as he thought. "You and the others wear that stuff most of the time I see you, I just figured you liked seeing in more then one spectrum most of the time."

	Rounding the corner at the end of the building they passed a window that looked down into the courtyard of the abandoned hospital. Only a large crater remained of what could have been a lush garden. There was an awkward air about them before she changed the subject.

	"You know Doc, you and Mac still owe me the winnings from that poker game."

	"Awe you know how it is ell tee, us lower enlisted types don't get paid the same as you brass collared guys." He smirked and shrugged, nearly running into a concrete partition in the middle of the floor.
			
	"No fucking shit, but I swept your asses by myself in one game, and I reckon you're obligated to give me paper imprinted with the face of one of your, how did you say it? "dead as fuck" presidents."

	"Rodge oh, but your gonna have to wait till payday. I'm broke as fuck right now."
 
	Archer stopped suddenly and flicked her P90 off safe.

	"Woah woah! Hold on! Hold on a sec Lieutenant! I'll get your money I -"

	Archer snapped her head to him and grabbed the collar of his fatigues. "Shut the fuck up Fisk!" 

	She stopped and yanked his face down to the floor next to her. Dragging him over to a separation between the dimly lit window panes she held him down as she braced her back against the wall. There was a very distant clap of thunder and a small crack followed by a barely audible whistling. Fucking orbital mortars. Standing up and cupping her hands around her mouth she yelled as loud as she could. 

	"INCOMING! INCOM-"

	The window closest to her was blown inward, cutting her off, as the low orbiting round struck the side of the abandoned hospital. Fisk had somehow dragged Archer down to the floor with him, covering the back of both his and her head as they lay there. Seconds passed, but then the inevitable second round struck, tearing the supports out of the first floor and making the hallway directly in front of them cave into the basement. Archer cursed in a seething hiss. Always on a fuckin' Monday...

	"Fisk, get the fuck up and find your team, I gotta back track around this shit."

	Trying to stand up, she found her legs too weak to support her body. Using the P90 as a crutch Fisk gasped. A piece of steel re-bar was sticking out of her leg.

	"HOLY FUCK! Sit down Lieutenant I'll grab a med kit and-"

	Archer grabbed his arm before he had a chance to turn around.

	"I gave you an order H.M. 3; test me and you'll see what happens if you don't carry it through." 

	Letting him go she took a kneel so that her left leg, re-bar buried deep in its calf, was on the floor. Gently she took the end of the steel rod in her hand and closed her eyes.

	"Lieutenant you're not serious..."

	"DO WHAT THE FUCK I SAID!"

	There wasn't even a scream as she pulled near half a foot of inch thick steel rod out of her leg. Tossing the bloodied shrapnel aside she gathered some gauze from her med pack and stuffed it in the wound. Standing up she brought her rifle to the ready and readjusted its strap. She turned and gave the medic an icy look.

"I don't know why your still standing here."

	"Sure thing ell tee." he said, his voice shaking.

	She watched as he sprinted down what was left of the hallway, kicking debris aside haphazardly. Falling back down to a knee she winced in an incredible bout of pain. Being the hard ass had its drawbacks, that was for sure. Taking a syringe from the pack labeled "Emergency: Alpha" she slammed it into the wound watching as the skin closed almost immediately afterward. Throwing the needle aside she shook her head as a small adrenaline high bounced through her veins. A small pang of guilt twinged in the back of her head; She didn't like yelling at people and Fisk had looked like someone had stabbed him. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Stand, reassess the situation and move on. Where the fuck had that mortar come from?
	
	"ELL TEE!"
	
	The air force operator was feeling his way along the hallway, his face was covered in dust.
	
	"Gomez?" 
	
	"Ho!"
	
	"Get over here!"
	
	"Copy" He shimmied past the rubble of the newly created hole in the wall. "What the hell just happened?"
	
	She took a knee and adjusted her optics for low level light amplification.
	
	"Mortar, maybe three or so miles out, spotter somewhere and he's damn accurate too. How's everyone else?"

	"Alpha's shaken, beaten the hell up, but alive. Havn't heard squat from bravo though."

	Archer cursed under her breath. "No matter, they can take care of themselves. Mortars got me tied up for now though."

	He nodded and pulled the receiver from the radio on his back. 

	"Want me to call it in? Navy should have fast movers on the track anyway."

	She leaned around the pillar and glanced off in the distance. There were two more flashes off in the distance on a hill surrounding the small town. Air to ground countermeasures. Flares shot up to confuse AGM missiles. Well prepared and practically snipers with their cannons. This stank of the Mexican PLA.

	"Go ahead, by the looks of it, they'll move before they fire again. Gives us a good couple of minutes."

	He nodded. "Blood two zero, Blood two zero, this is Wolverine, request support and overwatch, beacon position alpha niner two victor." There was a static filled crackle in his headset before the pilot answered back. 

	"Rodger wolverine, Ledger one and two inbound. Mark your position with an infra red strobe if you've got it."

	"Rodge oh, we'll light up the house for ya."

	Taking three dark cylinders from the pack mounted under the radio he chained them together and leaned out the fresh hole. Winding up, he threw them all onto the second floors roof and crept back inside. 

***** ***** ***** 

	"Holy shit Shepard, you ask em to decorate the place with Christmas lights down there or something?"

	She looked over to her left and and sure enough Echo wasn't exaggerating. The IR probes had been designed to light up the area of a single building... Each. The result was a cluster of bright white illuminators that couldn't be missed through night vision goggles.
	
	"Well, Its better then none at all." Shepard mused.

	The flight of two formed an oval holding pattern over the city before breaking off. Flying the "race track" as most called it, they fell in line behind each other at equal distance, traveling in circle race track. This allowed one plane to roll in and attack a ground target, while the other prepped for their own ground attack, or simply provided over watch. The two back seat Weapons Systems Officers, or "wizzos", were busy trying frantically to find a hard moving target, their forward looking infra red pods swiveling under the belly of the aircraft. Shepard with her wizzo Cypher searched the outlying mountains, while Sparks and his wizzo Echo searched the inner city.

	Echo zoomed in deep on a shack that had said something strange in Spanish graffiti, an alien grays bulbous head stretched across the side. The image flipped upside down as they passed over it. "No IR hits other then the Christmas tree. I got jack and shit, you got anything Cypher?"

	"Nada, still waiting on some type of communication with the guys on the ground though. We had initial contact, but it relies on them to keep the channel open." Redialing in the radio frequency presented on the operations card into the console in front she waited patiently for a response. A loud screeching twang of noise forced Cypher to turn the volume down. Making eye contact with Shepard she shrugged.

"Nothin' doin' on this end. Too much squelch. Receive, but no send capability. Ideas?"
	
	"Yes, hold on." Shepard snap rolled the bird over onto its back and pulled hard watching the ground through the top of the canopy. The jet plunged toward the earth. There was a dull thump and a yelp as the plane snapped back level.

	"Mind telling me when you're going to do that? I whacked my head on the canopy again." Cypher groaned. Shepard simply chuckled and checked the altitude. Five hundred feet. They'd clear the tallest building in the small town on a straight bee line for the Christmas tree in the center. Selecting full afterburner the mach reader came up to point nine.

	Cypher clenched her stomach muscles unintentionally as the plane bobbled slightly in the air. She looked forward concerned. "Shepard? Mind letting me in on the plan?"

	"Plan? Simple. We're going to give them something to call home about." Shepard laughed. The world around them blurred into a streak of buildings and cityscape, buildings rushing only feet away from the wingtips. They passed over the target house, the thunderous crack the sound barrier breaking destroying what glass was left in the building.
	
	As if on cue, a sharp crackle came in over the radio.

	"HOLY SHIT TWO ZERO! A WARNING WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE! I ALMOST SHAT MYSELF!"

	"Figured you'd like it." Shepard muttered pulling straight up. She leveled them off a comfortable distance above the city. Cypher spoke up.

"Wolverine, coms are no go, your end, need victor one victor, status, tee ack." 

This was short for "radio sucks, not our fault, need better communication, target information, and target status". The ground team decrypted the jargon almost immediately.

	"Rodge oh, due north our position, grid victor one alpha romeo, foothills concealed armor. Possible surface to air threat."

	"Negative wolverine-" Echo interrupted. "I've got nothing on radar or IR anywhere near that area."

	"Two zero, active camouflage is a possibility, IR useless if that's the case. Suggest visual NVG search."

	"Is he serious? The needle in a haystack theory doesn't hold a candle this!"

	Sheperd could see in her minds eye Echo leaning out of the cockpit with a pair of binoculars cursing and waving an angry fist.

	"More like a needle in a needle stack." She quipped. "Wolverine give me last known location-" The bright green light marked SAM illuminated above the left display as the simultaneous tone blared in Shepard's head set. "SAM! Ledger two go silent!" She mashed a button in the cockpit dispensing chaff and flare before cutting right hard in a tight minimum radius turn. The tail of the two seater super hornet seemed to slide out from behind itself as the airspeed bled off, before the nose was pulled straight up mid turn. A long tone followed by four beeps repeated itself in her headset over and over again before the tone quickened. A female voice uttered the words that made Shepard's heart nearly stop. Ess Aye Three.

	"LEDGER ONE, SA-3 SAM LOCK!" 

	Pulling hard they leveled off at fifteen hundred feet. There was a small thump against the canopy as she snap rolled the bird over. Dumping more chaff and flare the hornet snap rolled to the left.

	"LEDGER TWO STATUS!" She called.

	"Angels twenty and climbing, no targets." Spark's cool voice sounded strained as he fought against the g-forces.
	
	Another snap roll and a climb for another two  thousand feet or so before rolling over and pulling back down toward the earth. Shepard heard a sharp staccato swishing sound fly by the cockpit. Looking up, she could just barely make out the white trail of smoke and vapor coming from the earth through her helmets night vision. It was there. That was the launch area.

	"LEDGER TWO, I HAVE EYES ON LAUNCH SITE! NORTH OF THE CITY, FOLLOW THE-" The green SAM light illuminated again mid sentence as her hud flashed furiously. "FUCK! SA-3 LOCK! KILL THE SIGHT QUICK!"

	Shepard mashed the flare button hard for a third time until the buckets were empty, then rolled over so that she could see the edge of the last bright white phosphorus beacon floating downward. There was another frantic beeping in her headset. Amazingly, she watched as a dim white cloud reached its way up toward her, the missile head spinning lazily as it arched through the sky.

	"VISUAL! TAKE OUT THAT SAM SITE DAMNIT!" She screamed into the mic. "LEDGER 1 DEFENDING!" 

"Ledger two blind, no visual, optics." Echo called out.

	"FUCK ITS THERE HIT IT DAMNIT! CYPHER PAINT IT!"

	The Super hornet dove like mad toward the ground again, Sheperd aiming for the same "trench", a street wide enough to fit the fighter in. Rolling in quick at the end of a block just adjacent to the IR house, she rolled it upside down so that the canopy was mere feet from the street. The missile followed the hornets swath of heat through the sky and down into the street. Selecting and arming a five hundred pound laser guided bomb, she jettisoned it from the aircraft. It floated in the air relative to the aircraft until it gravity brought it down just behind the hornet, the unfortunate street corner erupting into a massive orange ball of fire. The missile flew through the cloud, but its seeker head melted, wobbling slightly before over correcting and clipping a lamp post. The missile bobbled lazily for a split second before impacting and detonating in an abandoned multi level department store. Pushing the stick forward Shepard's vision turned bright red and she snap rolled the plane back over again. Selecting full afterburner they were once again screaming over the tops of buildings, but on an exit path out of the city. 

	"Ledger one clear, zero contacts, defending."

	The sky turned a bright orange as another five hundred pound laser guided bomb impacted a surface to air missile depot nestled snugly into the hillside. The plume rose up high, before another explosion, presumably from the mortar platforms went up. Secondary explosions proved too much for the polarity filters in her helmets night vision system. The hornet pulled up in a gently arching curve that drove it to ten thousand feet. 

	"Blood two zero, direct hit, mashed target." 

"Ledger two copies your all. Ledger one status." Sparks asked concerned.

	"Ledger one is clear, angels twelve and climbing. Four grand of fuel left, she's thirsty." Shepard was barely able to finish her sentence she was breathing so hard. Her g-suit was soaked through and she could feel sweat dripping down her face.

	"Christ Shepard... Just-" Echo rubbed the bridge of his nose where his oxygen mask ended. "Jesus."

	"Nice to-" * pant * "be alive after all that. I'd ask you to pinch me, but I think I'll wait till we get back."

	"We all owe you a beer after that one." Sparks sighed into his mask and relaxed a little. He took another deep breath and cued up a radar cross section Echo had designated. "I'll stay on station with these guys. Kc-30 is ten out." 

	"Leger one copies, see you again in thirty." Shepard took the plane up to twenty thousand feet and let the engines creep back to flight idle again. Engine readings were stable, and a few mashes of the flight controls reset button stopped the annoying 'flight controls' chant in her ears. "You alright back there kiddo? I haven't heard a word out of you for a while."

	Silence.

	"Hey, you awake back there?"

	The pilot took a look in her mirrors at her wizzo. Cypher's chin was resting against her chest. Her body was bent forward against the loose restraints, a snore just barely audible over the coms.

	"You gotta be kidding me..." She laughed to herself as she realized what must have happened. "Poor kid already told me she hit her head on the canopy; must have been the thump I heard earlier. Might wanna tighten your straps next time." Cypher was knocked out cold by their wild missile dodging ride. She'd keep this a secret between the two; small events like these had a habit of creating new call signs for young pilots.

***** ***** ***** 

	
	Archer watched as the fighter jet made its way off station, small rivulets of smoke billowing from the hillside in the distance. They had just witnessed an incredible airshow, and had it not involved a series of heat seeking missiles, she would have broken out a beer and a lawn chair. The shallow hum of the tilt rotors ducted fans interrupted her revelry. Assessing the damage hadn't taken too long; some had been hit with shrapnel and a few were bleeding from their ears, but for the most part they were in well working order. Her own wound had healed to the point of a small pink scar seen through the hole in her black camouflage utilities. Must have scared the living crap out of Fisk though. She thought soundly to herself. The ospreys ramp fell forward to meet the roof and and the load master greeted them again with an open hand.

	"Need a lift?" He smiled to them.

***** ***** ***** 

	
	Save for a few running lights along its fuselage The massive KC-30's painted black form was obscured almost totally by the pitch dark night sky. The tanker loomed just slightly to the right as the refueling basket hung lazily off the beasts left wing. The refueling probe from the super hornet met the drogue in a feat of orbital copulation that had always seemed to Shepard a bit... Unnatural. There was a rustling sound over the mic, and a low moan from behind her.
	
	"What the fuck happened?"

	Shepard looked back into her mirrors and eyed her WSO. 

	"Have a nice nap sleeping beauty?"

	"No..." Cypher's eyes grew wide and then instantly shrunk back down into small slits. 
	
	"Yes!" Shepard poked.
	
"They're going to beat me up over this for the rest of my career." 
	
	Shepard stifled a laugh as the hose dipped a few meters in the dark. "I'd be more worried about the inevitable debriefing we'll have with the Captain about this." 

	"Think he'll hold us a for a few days like he did Dollar and Stretch?"

	"I don't think, I know he will. Can't keep an old man from his admiral stars you see."

	Cypher mulled over the thought for a second before dialing in a new set of coordinates on the display. "Hey, even with this bit of fuel we're still out of range. Thoughts?"

	"We'll wait for the two to come top off before we go anywhere. I've got a few "mission oriented" issues to take up with the air group commander of CVN-86."

	"You're kidding..." 

	"Nope."

	"Well, never thought I'd see the USS Thomas Jefferson again."

	"She's only a few clicks out in the gulf. CAG owes me a favor anyway." 

	"Wait a minute, the commander owes you a favor? What the hell did you do to rack up something like that?"

	There was a pause 

	The tanker flashed an infrared light, then stopped fuel flow. "#Ledger one, five grand worth, negative flow. Thanks for not ripping the hose off.#"

	"Thought we were over that EXON?"

	"Tradition to bust the balls of whatever navy puke rolls through here. Take care."

	"Copy." Shepard responded with a chuckle. She let off on the throttle and watched as the lumbering beast pulled away from them. Off to their right she could see their sister super hornet pull in on the tankers right basket.  Shepard could see the faint glint of the LPOD sensor array swiveling around and locking onto them. 

	"That was an impressive show back there, good thing I got it all on tape!" Echo bragged, waving at them.

"Not my personal SAM dodging record, but hey, any SAM dodged is one more paycheck right?"

Cypher looked at the mirror up front catching Shepard's wide grin..

"You think this is funny?" 

"Hilariously funny," Shepard admitted.

"Its a coping mechanism." Echo added. 

"Not knocking it, just saying that's kind of weird."

"The Iranians don't like to shoot  just three missiles at you. They like to multiply everything by twos." Shepard joked.

. 	Ten minutes later, refuel complete, pulling away gently the two turned belly up and headed for the earth. Off in the distance, marked by a line in their HUDs and a single GPS way point, was the fleet carrier strike force of CVN-86, the USS Thomas Jefferson. The single strip of running lights and the blinking Fresnel lens marked their landing target. They broke off to their left, each slowly completing an ovular circle until they safely caught the the wire. 

**** **** ****

	Archer leaned comfortably against the tiltrotors steel frame as she twisted slightly to wake up her sleeping leg. She was reclined across the top of a large cargo crate and watched silently as the rest of her team slept silently in what room was left in the cargo bay. 

	"Wolverine actual, cleared, east pad."

	"Copy control, east pad."

	The tiltrotor landed gently at the edge of the carrier's flight deck with the slightest of noises as the ducted fans wound down. Twelve operators wearing urban camouflage disembarked, the largest of which carrying a woman in his arms. She was sleeping soundly in a medicated stoopor. Not bothering to acknowledge the rest of the crew on the flight deck they barged their way into the first open hatch. Dropping the girl off with Security (revise name) they headed to the room and nearly fell into the soft seats, most succumbing to a deep sleep soon after. Their mission over, they now had a small break in activity until their ride met up with the HMS Hornet II.

	Two women, one with an optics visor and the other with a tight black bandana over her head chatted idly by the duty desk in the back corner.

	"What do you reckon intel will do with her now?" Xun asked leaning against the desk slightly. 

	"Depends really." Archer replied.

	"On?"

	"How much she knows about whatever shit they want."

	Xun put a hand to her chin in thought. 

	"Makes me wonder though..."

	"Yeah?"

	"What the fuck was she doing there anyway?"

	Archer put a hand up and pointed to the security camera in the far corner next to the entrance hatch.

	"Opsec now, bullshit later. I'd like to speculate, but frankly that's something above my pay grade."

	Xun nodded and shrugged.

	"Wadya gonna do eh?"

	"Yup."

	The door, nearly removed from its hinges, was kicked in by what seemed to be just a leg floating in the air. A tanned face man waltzed in speaking loudly to a woman a few inches taller behind him, both still dressed in flight gear.

	"That was fuckin wild right?"

	"For what I remember yeah."

	"Bah, coulda woulda, shoulda been a big deal, but Shep doesn't give two shits. I think you're good."

	"Doesn't make the embarrassment go away though." 
	
	"You two mind shutting the fuck up?"

	They looked up toward the back at the Asian woman scowling their direction. Echo started to open his mouth but stopped after seeing the near comatose bodies strewn about the floor and seats.

	"Thanks." 

	Xun nodded and took a seat on the couch furthest back. Not a minute later, Shepard and Sparks walked in, the former with sweat matting her hair and flight gear. Her cheeks were red and sweat collected around the collar of her flight suit. Stepping quietly over the sleeping bodies she made her way back to the duty desk. The lieutenant sitting there was sleeping soundly, his twenty four hour shift nearing its end. Archer, seeing the two walk in tapped him lightly on the shoulder. He woke with a start before jumping to attention and saluting. Shepard nodded to him setting her helmet bag off to the side. Filling out the mission report and fuel status she caught a glimpse of Archer picking thin metal sliver out of the fatigues area's that hadn't been covered by armor. 

	"Rough night?" Shepard asked.

	The operative looked up and over Shepard with her red eye.

	"Could ask the same of you."

	Shepard chuckled and handed the pen to Sparks.

	"Dodged some missiles and probably pissed off a few Mexican PLA's, but we helped out some guys on the ground, so whatever we did was worth it."

	Archer's eyebrows went up, and the red monocle glowed a bright red. 

"It was worth it?"

"Yeah, they were under." Shepard gave the woman a searching look. "You know where I could find the tough bastards who were down there?" She let a small smile creep through the rough facade.	

Breaking into a fit of laughter Archer patted Shepard on the back.

	"Mother fucker! You know how hard it is to keep a straight face with you smiling like an idiot like that?"

	"That's one more round on you Diane."

	Blood, sweat, and the pungent smell of spent cordite mixed as the two exchanged friendly hugs.

	"How's Mike?" Shepard asked.

	"Same as always. Blah this, blah that, makes me wonder if he's letting the command position go to his head."

	Sparks finished filling out the small report and handed it to the groggy Lieutenant. 

"Some things never change."

"You're one to talk." Xun added. She held a hand over her mouth, surprised she'd let it slip. "Er, I meant, same long face, same haircut."

"Navy regs kinda limit me there." He added.

"So I'm guessing the loudmouth and the tall one belong to you?"

"You could say as much." Shepard said looking over her friends who had settled onto a couch in the corner. "They're not wet behind the ears though, which keeps me in my comfort zone. Is that Samson passed out underneath that chair?"

"Yeah, big lug was carting the VIP around while we were kicking in doors last night and this morning."

"That big lug?"

"He's just a big pussycat."

"Big deserves some shuteye after the shit that girl put him through." Xun added.

"True." Archer chuckled.
	
	They exchanged small stories through the next half an hour, catching up on what had been a long time separated. Friendly greetings over with, the laughter died down into a comfortable silence.

	"So what the hell were you guys doing out on the border? Figured you'd be out on a boat somewhere."

	"We were headed back to Arizona, had to make a stop in lower Texas to pick up some gear."

	"Gear?"

	"New targeting pods- the let us blast that mortar that was blasting the shit out of you. You're just lucky we had ordnance left over from the exercise we were working. I came here hoping the Captain could hook us up with a few Gbu-30's and air to ground missiles so we could finish."

	"So it was just a coincidence?"

	"Pretty much, but we still would have had about six hundred rounds in the gun to fire off. So you wouldn't have been too shit out of luck." Shepard said with a laugh.

	"Gotcha. Gonna have to show me some of that vid though, the crazy shit you were doing almost made me crack open a beer and watch."

	"Got some time? I've got the backup right here-"

	"Excuse me ma'am?" Both women turned toward the petty officer wearing the side arm at the front of the room. "I need the ankle bracelet from the refugee."

	Archer turned and raised an eyebrow.

	"Okay... Do I need to sign over special custody to have you touch her?"

	"Negative ma'am, but my partner just signed over custody to your team for transport to the mainland."

	"I never authorized..." Archer grabbed the clipboard from his hands and scanned it inhumanly fast. "RGT Newman? FUCK!" Archer grabbed her P90 and cocked it back, throwing the pistol to Xun.

	"Ma'am what is-"

	"Fuckin' CIA spook, a god damn ghost!" Archer said barging out the hatch past him.

	Xun chambered a round and leered at him with a face of anger.

	"You, ready your weapon and lead the way, the girl's been taken."

	The two followed hot on Archer's heels out the doorway. Shepard looked at sparks and shrugged.

	"Can't win at all today can we?"

	"Seems we cannot. What can of worms have we pushed our way into this time?"

**** *** ****

	Archer made it to the birth of the flight deck first, chaotic jet noise and the blue glow of afterburner overwhelming her senses in the dark night. She scanned the sea of idling fighters, wishing her thermal and infrared visor wasn't being overwhelmed by the hot jet exhaust. 

	"Where the fuck are you?"

	At the opposite end of the deck a small form with a bag over her head was being dragged by her shirt tail by a man in nondescript black fatigues. A blackhawk helicopter loaded them up quickly before rising a few inches off the deck and plunging over the side. Archer sprinted over to the decks edge in front of a taxiing fighter that never even saw her move. Glancing over the side she saw the aging helo hover just above the water. Pulling out her P90 she pointed it down at the top of the rotor blades. Squeezing the trigger the small gun barked in her hands, the sound completely muffled by the roar of a jet fighter taking off. The helicopter nosed down and rose up, the bullet impacts not seeming to damage it all. It pulled away and off into the night, the small white blinking beacon on its tail disappearing under the cover of darkness. Archer cursed and did the only thing she could to relieve her frustration. She unloaded the rest of the clip into the sea. Xun came up behind her with her pistol drawn and read, before glancing over the side. Looking around no one had payed any attention to them at all in the mess of chaotic night operations.

	"What now?"

	"Nothing. We were played straight up by counter intel on this one. I'm gonna have a talk with the commander when we get back to the Hornet and give him a fucking punch in the mouth for leading us on.

	She pushed passed the clueless Navy crewman at arms and back the way she came, fuming the entire way.
#
	Fourteen light years away, Rika scanned the indications screen again; ensuring that everything on board was functioning exactly the same as it had been thirty seconds ago... and thirty seconds before that, and thirty seconds before that, and another thirty seconds before that... This mission was turning out to be one of those excruciatingly boring ones where their four man crew zipped across this section of the galaxy for a few days with nothing happening. She almost wished they were training: the excitement of red vessels nearly outweighed the inevitable ass chewing at the end. How did the rest of her crew do it? 
She gazed back longingly at her indicators. Perhaps she could fake an artificial gravity malfunction? Desperate to find something to do that wouldn't get her in trouble she ran through her checklist again.
The main ordinance capacitors were charged to the max, which was no surprise. She had begun charging them this morning when they had left, diverting a little power from recharging the jump ballast and heating the iron in order to fill the capacitors quickly. In a choice between having "tail", or the ability to escape quickly by crossing the light speed barrier, and "teeth", or armed weaponry, she preferred to have teeth. You might not be able to beat all enemies, but then again you couldn't outrun all of them either and she preferred to die fighting. Fortunately for her the vessel's captain agreed with her philosophy, (or he didn't care enough about it either way) and let her handle dispersing the ship's power on her own.
But the jump ballast was now full as well, the iron was in plasma, and everything was stable. In short, there was nothing left for her to do. She gave a sigh and looked over the shadowy outlines of her crew. In front of her the captain and pilot, commander Yasoi "Shave" Ungow, was glancing back and forth between his radar and the window outside. How he kept his intensity up she had no idea. To his right captain Yasoi "Smokey" Bagum, the RIO and weapons officer, was resting his chin on a hand, flipping through the spectrum screens looking for any disturbance the computer didn't catch that might be a threat. Behind him and to Rika's direct right the navigator and general ship clerk lieutenant Yasoi "Lost" Niedka, was slouched in his seat staring at a 3d holographic map of the galaxy with an empty expression. The ship shared what on Earth had been known as a last name. All one family, yet none of them were blood related. She, flight engineer and vessel mechanic sergeant Yasoi "Flat-face" Rika, turned back to her own console and allowed herself to drift into a daydream. This long distance ferry was just as dreary as the rest of them always were, despite the destination of Earth being her 'home rock' as her friend Bokkar "Mallet"  Gamun had put it. Somewhere in the black void to her left, she was probably doing the same in her own vessel.
Despite being bored out of her mind, her current job was beyond anything she had ever dreamed of doing three years ago. Her rank was sergeant was unheard of that fast in other military career fields, and she was due for commissioning into lieutenant in another two years. Her position as an engineer aboard a Farrom class interceptor and the friendships she had forged along the way had all come with an enormous amount of work -some of it voluntary, most of it not- and they all made three years ago feel like another life in a far away time and place. In many ways it was. She smiled as she remembered that basement floor, freshly poured in the construction site of that new development, and wondered if her self portrait that now looked nothing like her was still carved into the concrete foundation.

Chapter Two
Chapter 1

	A cold, dead smile grinned up at Rika with a stone-like complexion. It was a frightful sight: somewhere between undead and mentally disturbed. The bland, grey concrete had been perfectly smooth when she had started hours before. Now at least this small patch had character. From a rather wide depression dug to the side she had moulded a nose that rose up from the newly formed basement floor, then lips, and a brow. She had carved small depressions beneath her brow and formed eyes, etching iris's into the hardening mixture. With a stick and a large nail she had scratched the outline of her face into the concrete, added hair, roughed up areas for shading, and tamped out shallow ears.
    That had been early this morning. She had left when she had grown bored and drifted onward to her friend's house. Now the sun was sliding out of the sky, collapsing into the river bluffs to the west for it's daily death. The cement had set up, and her face was almost permanent. She had stopped on the way home to scratch her initials into the artificial stone. She imagined a small child finding the face in the floor beneath his house and asking his mother who R.B. was. There was something comforting in seeing her crude self-portrait and name etched in the new foundation, knowing that it would be there for many years to come. They would forever remember her here in this house, regardless of what happened to her, even if it was behind a screen of anonymity.
	There was some security in her face sculpted in the hardening grey rock. Someone would remember her because of it, even if nothing else made people remember her. It certainly wouldn't be her life. She doubted that would ever amount to anything. Best case scenario she would end up as a mid-range manager in a cooperation, running the rat race until her retirement kicked in, or the angel of death granted her some grace and delivered her from the misery of that grind. She felt a little depressed at the thought. At her current rate she would never get anywhere in life. At least, those would be her father's words if he knew everything she did away from watchful eyes. True, she could do something about it, but she didn't really know what, nor did she have any motivation to change. She knew she should, but why?

    She picked up her backpack and stepped off the plywood board that had been her carving perch. She rolled over in her head what she should do after she graduated at the end of the year as she clamored up the ladder against the muddy walls and began her way back across the rising sub development. Maybe a construction worker, she could probably be that. She liked working with her hands and there was satisfaction being able to look at something physical that you had made. 
	Her constant toking up behind the football field was beginning to rear it's ugly head. Her grades had plummeted from a "B" average to nearly failing over the past three years. It was a habit she knew she had to quit, but that would mean quitting her only friends. That would mean being alone again, getting rejected until she found someone who didn't shun her for not being "like them". Besides, she could always quit later. After all, wasn't it better to spend your life doing something you enjoyed than to waste it on homework that got you nothing but a printed letter on a piece of paper?

    "HEY! YOU!" boomed a man's angry voice, snapping Rika from her introspection.

    She risked a glance over her shoulder and caught a flash of yellow hard hat and red flannel. He was standing at the edge of the foundation she had just improved. She bounded over the formers, up the embankment, and took off through the worksite at a dead sprint.

    "STOP!"

    Shit!  The construction team worked nights, they didn't show until at least six. What the fuck were they doing here this early? 
	To make matters worse that  voice and flannel could only be Ernie Blemmer, the contractor who happened lived across the street from them.  He was well known for being a hard man, unforgiving and rather grumpy.
    She took off down the uneven dirt road, sliding a bit in the loose gravel as she rounded a corner and gave an extra burst of speed. The new road that was being built for the development ended, giving way to the cracked and battered pavement of the city. Just past the next corner was an ally that led past Jackie's back yard. She didn't think Ernie had caught her face, if she managed to duck down the ally she'd be home free.
    She threw a glance over her shoulder to gauge how far behind her she had left the short man. His heavy figure could be made out about a block back, huffing and puffing while chugging after her. Hah! She would make the ally with ease.

    Unless, of course, her legs slammed into something while the rest of her continued to move forward. She slid over the hood of the vehicle, landing none too gracefully on her skull in the gutter on the other side. Stars flowered in her vision, and the world spun.
    She stared up at the pristine white and silver front of a large sedan that refused to stay still, swaying back and forth while spinning slightly. There was something familiar about this vehicle, something she should know about it... She swam through the fog of her mind, hoping the daze would end soon. She was in a hurry, but why? This car was important too, there was something about this particular make and model that she should recognize....

    A younger, clean shaven man with dark hair, wearing a dark blue uniform and a utility belt adorned with a holster and radio stepped in front of her. There was a concerned look on his face.

    "Hey kid, are you all right? Christ, you ran right into me!"

    There was a glint of sunlight of something large and silver on his left breast as a beefy man in red flannel came up beside him.

    Squad car, she realized, that's what the sedan was.  

    She felt herself sink as the came to the conclusion of what that news meant for her situation.
    The world must be joking with her. Her adoptive father Matt would be livid when he found out. Out of all the lousy luck in the world...

#
1200 - Join Naval Air Station Lemoore California

	The unbearably hot California sun beat down hard from the highest point in the sky, shadows disappearing beneath the giant wings of the fighter aircraft parked wingtip to wingtip. Eve wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead as she worked her way into the sweltering G-suit and survival vest, zipping up the leggings and chest protector with a grunt. The hundred and ten degree heat seemed to make even something as easy as pulling a zipper up much harder then it truly was. It was no death valley, but most agreed with her that the "move three feet and sweat" rule was a good indicator that it was freaking warm out. Pulling her shoulder length brown hair back behind her ears she slipped on her helmet, pushing the HUD visor up and out of the way. Looking to her left under the wing, her "punishment" had been standing and waiting in the shade patiently, or was it hesitantly? She couldn't tell. 

	Thinking back, the poor kid had endured hours of safety lectures, water survival tests, and endless flight testing evaluations to take a forty five minute trip in what she'd always thought was a pile of shit. A flying pile of bolts held together with duck tape, paper clips and bubblegum, all bought from the cheapest store on earth. Military surplus at its finest. Managing to beat down the smirk struggling across her lips, she closed up her helmet bag and waved him closer. 

	"You ready for this kid?"

	The teenager nodded slowly and struggled against the invading myriad of buckles on the brand new starched and pressed flight suit. The green contrasted sharply with the slightly faded tan of the her own gear, but it wasn't like it mattered once they were up there anyway. She could tell he was trying hard to ignore the discomfort the of the heat and new gear. 

	"Alright then! Go ahead and grip the ladder like this with two hands. Three points of contact like airman Johnson told you." She grabbed the ladder hand over hand to demonstrate. "Now once your up there, always keep a hand on something. This things always at eight to ten feet off the ground, so slipping is a real risk up there. I can't take you back to your mom and dad with a broken arm." She laughed moving aside.

	The boy smiled a bit, a small blush painting his forehead as he fought to hide it. Eve thought she could almost hear his heart beating in his chest as she watched him plant a hand on the ladder. With shaky legs he made his way slowly up, stopping at the top and looking around the flight line. 

	"There's around sixty super hornets from four different squadrons on station, but off to your right," She pointed out across the runway at a myriad of black dots. "Is another flight line full of the Lightning two's, Raptor two's, and those new F-15's that I'm sure your instructor told you about."

	"Why are they separate?" He asked.

	"It's more a difference of standards really. The chair force thinks they're better then everyone else, so of course we've got to give them their own flight line." She paused to see if he understood the jab at their sister service, but when he looked back down at her she could tell it just didn't translate. "Uh, alright then, go ahead and make your way back to the rear cockpit like how I showed you in the hangar and just sit tight for a moment. Don't get in yet."

	Shaking the hand of the plane captain, Eve did a final look around before making her way up the ladder. Once she was seated on the ledge just beyond the cockpit, she stood and grabbed the open canopy, bracing herself. The ladder went up with a loud crunch that startled the boy, but before he had a chance to let go, she was there behind him with a hand on his survival jacket.

	"Whoa there, gotcha! Go ahead and take a seat, but don't step on it. Those rocket motors will fire you right through the canopy. Great! Now remember what we talked about?"

	He looked down between his legs at the yellow loop with black bands. "This isn't a hand hold when we go upside down?"

	"Exactly! Well, not unless your willing to practice your skydiving skills..." She let her voice trail off as the boys eyes grew wide. "Just relax kiddo." She said patting his shoulder. "Nothing too bad is gonna happen as long as your riding with me."

	He nodded and slowly reached for the camera in the pocket at his thigh. Fishing it out, he managed to snap a shot as she went about pre-checking her own seat. The picture came out a bit blurry, but he was still able to make out clearly what he took it for. 

	"Ell Tee Jay Jee Evelyn Scout Sadok." Not realizing he'd said it aloud, he looked up and over the displays in front of him only to find she was already in her seat and ready to go.

	"Just call me Scout, it's a bit easier to remember." For a split second he thought he could detect the smallest hint of malice, but it disappeared as she yelled over her shoulder. "Alright, now push the plug into the slot on the seat so that you don't suffocate when we're at altitude." There was a metallic click and then a loud screech as he fought the urge to rip the helmet off. Seconds later a static hum filled the headset built in. "Can you hear me?"

	"Lo... Loud and clear." he stuttered.

	"So what do I call you, eh?"

	"Call me?"

	"Yeah, I can't call you Maximilian all day, unless you want me to."

	"No, Max is fine."

	"Ah really? No call signs or anything you've seen in the movies like Top Gun 2 or something?" There was a brief pause as he thought it over before Eve watched him shake his head in her mirror. "Max it is then. Hows about we get this show on the road?"

	Turning to her right she waved three fingers and the mechanic on the ground mimicked the action, pointing at the back of the plane. The engines, or at least that's what they sounded like, started to spool up one after the other until the noise drowned out everything except the communications. Lots of communications. Jumbled words and phrases that meant nothing to the boy, but obviously a language that Eve was well versed in. A few minutes later the cockpit was coming to life as the different panels and displays in front of them flickered on.

	"If you look in front of you you'll see four TVs, or what we call 'multi function displays', in a 'T' shape. Each one can be swapped around to display anything you want, at any time in regards to the aircraft. The biggest one, bottom center, is what we usually do most of our work on. I'll pull up the radar so you can see it working." Sure enough, the screen brought up a series of green arcs, with a single line scanning from left to right, and a few dots marked with x's. "That's pretty much the meat and potatoes of the radar. Most of the advanced stuff is used when we're tracking individual missiles. Pretty similar to the stuff you see in movies."

	"Definitely." He looked to his left and right around him in the surprisingly roomy cockpit. This wasn't like the movies at all. "What are the handle grips for?"

	"The stick on the left is for sensor control. The stick on the right is for hot switching between the displays."

	"You mean I can't fly the plane from back here?"

	"Unfortunately for you, no. They're for something pilots like to call 'Hands On Throttle And Stick', or HOTAS. Instead of the guy in the backseat having to punch through endless menus with the buttons next to the display, they can pull up what they want with a flick of a button. Sort of like shortcuts on a computer."

	Eve watched as he leaned around the back of her seat to raise an eyebrow. 	

	"How do you remember all of this? I mean, there's just so much stuff here."

	She laughed as she punched in a few GPS waypoints from memory. "I remember because I do this every day. I bet there's a lot of things you take for granted in your daily routine, stuff you don't notice you do that would seem complicated to someone else." She said tapping her helmet. "Your brain is a muscle. Flexing it every now and then is a good way to keep your butt out of a smoking hole in the ground. Watch your head!" She looked up and pointed at the canopy. Pulling his arms into his lap he watched as the large glass bubble met the frame, cutting off most of the engine noise. "Oh! I almost forgot; wanna see something cool?" She asked.

	"What else could there be?"

	"Put your right hand on the right stick grip and hit that funny d-pad looking thing to the right. Watch your middle display when you do it."

	He did as told and watched as the radar flickered away, replaced by a clear as day camera image of the front nose wheel landing gear.

	"It takes pictures?" He asked unimpressed.

	"Oh it does so much more then that! On the left stick, there should be two rubber buttons on top that move in all directions. Try messing around with the left one a little."

	The picture bounced around uncontrollably for a second before stabilizing. Pushing the button left panned the camera that way, and he soon discovered in wasn't any normal camera he'd ever operated. It moved in all directions showing him places under the belly and next to the plane, including the friendly wave of the maintainer checking the plane. It wasn't until he tried zooming in however, that he realized how "not like a camera" it was.

	"You're zoomed in on a warehouse almost six miles away. It'd take you close to three hours to walk that far." Eve said. "You can swap between three different visual light settings, and a myriad of other interesting combat related things, but I'll let you play with that later."

	"This is, this is amazing!"

	"Wait till we get up in the air kiddo. That's when you'll really appreciate that thing."

	"My dad's never gonna believe this!"

	"You've still got your 'illegal' camera right?" She watched in amusement as panic forced the camera down into his lap quickly. "Let's just say that I never saw it as long as you don't take any more pictures of my ass okay?"

	"But! I didn't... Yes ma'am."

	"Good boy. I'm gonna close this video pod so we can take off. I don't want another deer blasting that four million dollar toy to hell again."

	Eve swore she could hear him swallow through his mask. 

	"Raider one zero, clear for taxi and departure via runway three two right. Unrestricted climb permitted to flight level one five zero. " A male voice interrupted.

	"Copy One Zero, taxi depart three two right, unrestricted, one five zero." Eve repeated back without hesitation..

	The teenager suddenly felt his heart jump into his throat as the jet lurched forward.

	"Ready for this?" 
	
	"As ready as I'll ever be."

	"Good answer. I'm not pulling over."	

	He sat back into the seat trying not to clench his stomach. The end of the runway came up fast as they left the taxiway, and he was now gripping the two handles so hard his knuckles were white.

	"Raider one zero clear for departure."

	"Alright kiddo, last chance! Speak now or forever hold your peace."

	"I don't this is a-"

	"You think you can do it? Alright!"

	There wasn't time to argue as he was pressed firmly into his seat, a shuttering roar and vibration making his stomach tie itself in knots. Slowly, the runway markers started passing the cockpit until they were going by too fast to read.

	"One hundred." Eve read out. "One fifty. One seventy. Ready to go flying?"

	"What are we doing now!?"

	"Here we go!"

	The runway ended in a blur as they picked up speed, but he was sure something was wrong. They were still only a few feet off the ground. He could see parts of the bushes and plants that lined the desert floor they were so close. Was something wrong? Were they going to crash? Did he mess something up? Did she? 	
	
	More thoughts flooded his mind like lightning, but left just as quickly as his head was suddenly forced down into his crotch. His vision blackened only for a second, but it left him dazed. Looking to his right, it took him a while to figure out he was heading straight up into the clouds, instead of on a gentle climb, like he'd seen the other planes do. 

	The world spun about the cock pit and was suddenly upside down, then right side up again in a flash. 

	"Congratulations Max, you're three miles above the earth, higher then any of your friends have ever gone before."

	"I think-"

	"Yeah?"

	"I think I'm gonna be sick..."

	She turned around in her seat to see the boys green face and cursed under her breath. "Just relax okay? I'll keep her steady for the next few minutes so your stomach settles." She hadn't meant to make the poor kid sick.

	"Ugh... I don't think- I don't think I can keep it down."

	She winced and turned back to her controls. Setting the autopilot to maintain level flight she reached into a pocket on her leg and grabbed a small paper bag. Unbuckling her restraints Eve turned as far as she could in her seat. "Here, its a sick bag with some medication in it that'll settle your stomach. Just breath in, its like that vapo-rub stuff."

	Max took the bag reluctantly, embarrassment keeping him from making eye contact. "Thanks."

	Eve shot him a smile of understanding and turned back around. A few breaths later and his stomach had felt just as it did before he left the ground.

	"Better?"

	"I think so." He said shakily

	"Good, because we've been flying upside the last few seconds, and I didn't want to ruin the surprise."

	Max looked up, only to find he was looking straight down through the clouds.

	"I think I'll need another bag..."

#
*****
	She had tried to talk about it. She told him she was sorry. Matt remained silent as they walked into the small, ranch-style house they called home. He hadn't spoken since posting her bail. The drive home had been torture, with guilt threatening to split her body open. She had explained that she would earn the money to pay for repairing the basement, but he hadn't said a word in return. Not even a grunt. He wasn't just mad, he was hurt. That made things worse.
	She glanced at herself in the mirror that hung on the end of the cabinets in the kitchen. Her shoulder length dark brown hair was wild from her ordeal. Her face was smudged with dirt from her fall, and there was a bruise forming on her forehead where she had landed on it. Brown eyes cut into her -she hated that face, but only because it was her own.
	In the living room, Matt was removing his shoes in his recliner. He motioned for Rika to have a seat on the sofa when an eerie tone began playing. She sat on the edge of the sofa and wrapped her arms across her stomach while he answered the phone. 

	"Hello?" he asked. Why he never bought caller ID was beyond her. The phone was archaic, but even if he didn't want a model that could have been her grandfathers it wasn't like the additional unit or service was expensive.
	"Ehy. Yes Grenkle, I already know what this is about. No, I told you before, I'm not interested. You twisted my arm into working for you before, and I don't want to do it again. I don't care if the job is different.... So what if you pay me that much? It's not like I can use it to buy food or heat my home... Fine, whatever... Yeah, I'll call you if I do. Bye."

	Matt set the phone down on the coffee table before running his hand through his hair, "Rika... what am I going to do? You know better than to do something like that. Hell, you're almost an adult, not a fourteen year old kid. Why? Ernie said they have to replace that whole foundation now. It's set him back over a week."
	She stared at her feet, feeling his eyes on her. He never asked questions like this. Often times she wished he had, but she wasn't sure how to answer them now that he had. She took a deep breath an forced herself to look him in the eye.
	"I wanted there to be people who would remember me."

	Matt was leaning back in his chair, looking thoughtful. For a moment she wondered if he had even been listening to her.
	"Is that it?" he asked. She nodded.
	"Rika, if you want people to remember you then do something that will make them never forget you. A name and face carved in concrete is just that- shapes without meaning in something that will eventually wear away and crumble. People remember deeds, and deeds take far longer to erode into dust than anything you could make physically. 300 swords and shields are gone, but those men of Sparta are far from forgotten."
	"But what can I do?"
	"Anything you want, Rika. What you do will reflect how people remember you. The only advice I can give you is to change who you are. This isn't the Rika I got to know four years ago. The Rika I know doesn't carelessly deface other people's property. She strives to do something good, instead of just wasting her enormous potential by skipping class in the empty lot behind the grocery."
	"It's who I am," she shot back, "I'm not changing it just because you don't like it."

	"You don't have a choice."

	"Oh? And how do you plan to force me?"

	"I don't have any part in it, Rika. Change is the only law in nature that everything must abide by."

	She rolled her eyes. "I don't know where you get that from. But here, on this planet, there is nothing that can or will make me want to change who I am."

He looked thoughtful for a few minutes before he picked up his phone again and dialed a number. 
	"Saska? Is Grenkle there? Good. Listen, I've had some second thoughts, and I think we might be able to work some things out- Yes... Oni, I'll do it all right--you talked me into it-- I'll talk to Bar, sure, but first I need something from you... Etsh-" And with that he fell into a guttural language. He spoke it sometimes when talking on the phone, though never to her. She had never been able to figure it out, and he always changed the subject when she brought it up. Harmless as it seemed, it did make her wonder sometimes if the man was all there upstairs.
	Minutes dragged by. He was clearly ignoring her now, and she wondered if he even listened to her when she talked. Eventually she asked to be excused to the bathroom, and Matt waved her off. So she got up and left, eventually finding herself in her room. She pulled back the loose baseboard next to the door and drew out a lighter, a small piece of glassware and the plastic sandwich bag that her life had begun to revolve around since the school year had begun several months ago.
	She slid the clunky window open that overlooked the porch roof. The counterweight was broken, so she propped it open with a small board that she kept for the exact purpose. She enjoyed the peace on the roof. Matt didn't care if she sought her solitude up there, as long as it was above freezing and wasn't wet.
	She lay back on the asphalt shingles, lifting the hood up on her jacket before she rested her head on the roof. The briskness of the breeze caught her off guard. She clutched the bong and the bag to her chest and let out a sigh. She might feel like the only person on the face of an over-crowded planet, but at least she had herself, and she wasn't about to let her go.
	Rika stared up into the stars, letting the vast hugeness of the universe crush her into the suddenly tiny fleck of dirt that was Earth. As she stared into space, the loneliness seemed to become overwhelming. Even Matt, who she knew genuinely cared and was the closest thing to family she could knew of, felt distant. As her eyes caught a meteor, and then a satellite, she wondered if there was some place out there where she would feel loved, accepted, and at home. As her eyes lazily tracked the satellite across the sky, she was jerked from her thoughts as a single realization suddenly hammered panic into her mind:

The satellite had stopped moving. 

	She couldn't tear her eyes away from it, though she didn't know if that was from some fear of loosing it again among the stars or the paralyzing terror that grip her body. As she watched the speck of light began moving again, this time in a new direction. It lingered for a few more seconds before fading from the sky all together. Rika threw the bag off the roof. She had just seen that stone cold sober. Either the weed was laced and having a prolonged effect on her psyche, or something was up there, and for once she hoped something was in the pot.

#
*****

    She fidgeted nervously, the hard courtroom bench making her rock side to side trying to find a comfortable position. Eleven thousand in damages and fines, a mountain of paperwork and a night in jail, just for marking a little concrete! Even worse, if she didn't pay it within a month she would have to go to a detention center. The sound of the gavel  was as harsh as a cell door slamming shut. It might as have been. She sure didn't have that kind of money and she knew Matt well enough to know he would let her suffer her own doing.
    
    Her father stood, "I'll pay the fine, your honor, as she cannot your honor."

	Rika breathed a sigh of relief, which was quickly replaced with shock. No juvy, which made her feel like the gods above had opened the heavens and bestowed their blessing on her like a broken dam of goodness. Maybe there was a God, after all... 
	She recalled the time he had shoved her away from an irritable horse. She had been volunteering at a barn several years ago, back when she had been interested in horses. She hadn't been paying attention, and had inadvertently stepped behind an ill tempered gelding named "Thumper". Matt had been right behind her, and had seen the horse's hip drop. She crumpled into a wheelbarrow full of manure from the collision. At first she had been angry, but that was quickly quenched when she saw Matt nursing a dislocated knee. Perhaps he had felt enough mercy to break his own code of  'sleeping in the bed you made'?
	 She knew he loved her, but this was still unlike him. His methods of punishment were far from being abusive, but that didn't mean they weren't sadistic. Splitting three chords of wood over two days in late January had been an agonizing experience, even if it had provided their wood operated furnace with enough fuel to last until mid December of the next year. Her shoulders had been sore for days afterwards that, and she thought her hands would never be the same again.

  	  In front of her, the Jury was standing, and the judge was getting ready to leave.
     "I think you are making a mistake," said the judge. "she won't learn from her mistakes otherwise."
	 Matt only smiled, "I know what I'm doing."
	The judge sighed, suddenly looking very tired. "That choice is yours," he said, "just make sure I never see her in her in front of my bench again unless she's acting as the council." He trudged from the courtroom, closing the door behind him.
     After the judge left the room her father turned to her,  "But you aren't out of dodge yet. I'm not letting this go with just a grounding and some hard work. I will not have a criminal for a daughter."

    Oh? What else are you going to do, beat me?

    He might have been strict as hell, but she knew he would never lay a finger on her. His punishments were usually in the form of a stern talking to that ended with her feeling like shit and ashamed and possibly some crappy hard work, like pulling leaves out of the gutters in late November. He might threaten, but it usually never amounted to anything more. Still, the jobs he came up with...  She cringed, the memory of the last time she had been caught ditching school surfaced. Painfully cold fingers and balancing on a slippery ladder while pulling frigid, soaked, rotting leaves out of the gutter of the house for hours the following cold Saturday morning were even now still fresh in her mind.
#
***

Lemoore, CA: 1900 - End of day flight operations. Beginning of night qualifications.	

	Foss looked troubled. He was standing in the flight equipment shop, quietly hanging up his G-suit and vest like he usually did. His tall figure almost allowed him to look over the tops of the lockers, his brown hair brushing against a large chunk of the gypsum ceiling that hung down in one of the many places inside the dilapidated maintenance department. Come to think of it, he didn't look any different than he normally did. His face was relaxed and blank. He looked deep in thought, but that was somewhat normal for the lieutenant.

	Still, there was something wrong. After being stationed everywhere with the man since the beginning of flight school she was beginning to just know.
"Something eatin' ya?" she asked, slipping in between the racks of flight gear behind him. He looked up at her as she set her helmet on it's shelf.

	"You and I have orders to Ninety Four."

	"Ha! That's ridiculous." She said with a curt hiss. "They're suppose to be knee deep in a world wide cruise in three weeks! We're not even done with carrier training yet!"

	Foss nodded. "Ruffles said we would be given an accelerated last two weeks to finish everything up and get our minimum qualifications, then we'd transfer a couple days before they left."

	"So much for fair warning right?"

	Foss shrugged.

	 A third voice broke in, "Mother fucking career jammer..."

	The two turned to see the sergeant, a parachute rigger who had been sitting quietly at his desk the whole time. He was a wide-chested man, his dark complexion and small brown eyes added to his intense looking expression. An oxygen mask lay disassembled in front of him.

	"What?" asked Foss, more out of obligation then curiosity.

	"Sorry sir," he replied, "I'm playing the 'change my orders at the last minute' game. My wife is two months pregnant and with our deployment schedule well... I just never get to see her. He got me orders to three fourteen, said they wouldn't be deploying any time soon."

	"So?"

	"Let me just put it this way; wherever ninety four goes, three fourteen goes." The marine rubbed his brow in frustration "The two squadrons haven't missed a carrier deployment together in nearly a hundred years. Our stuff is still on its way to our new address, and there's no way to change my orders now that they've gone all the way up the chain of command."
	
	Eve flinched. Foss's expression remained unchanged as his brow creased.

	"I can say something to-"

	The sergeant held his hand up and shook his head. Leaning back in his seat he clasped his hands behind his head. "No, it's fine sir. As much as I hate being away from my family, we could use the money, and I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have a problem with it. 

	"At least, after I let it all sink." He added.

	"You haven't told her yet?" Eve wondered aloud.

	"Lieutenant, have you ever tried giving bad news to a woman who's pregnant? Whose hormonal imbalance causes something just short of an explosion? I'm just trying to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. "

	"Well, if and when you do decide to-"

	A voice from the door interrupted him.

	"And if you ever neglect to tell me I'm being that fucking stupid again, I'll kick my own ass! Got me?" The pilot, a bit older then the two, laughed as he yelled out the door into the hangar bay. He was still fully dressed in all of his flight gear, with the helmet bags and gear loads of two other pilots stuffed tight under his arms. He looked at the three inside with a huge smirk and set the gear down on a large table in the corner. "What's up guys?"

	Eve crossed her arms and sighed, "Marcus, what the hell was that about?"
	
	"What?" He asked innocently.

	"Kicking your own ass?"
	
	"Ah! Yeah well, don't argue with maintenance about leaky red stuff coming out of the back of the jet."

	"What did you say?" She asked, curious now.

	"Something along the lines of, 'Nah, It'll still fly."

	The sergeant behind the desk stifled a laugh before walking over to the table and collecting the extra gear. He read off the name tags in order. "Capt Dalmer, Major Richards. They couldn't bring their own gear in here?"

	"Had a meeting to get to." Marcus said as he set his bags down in front of the locker marked "Gabbe" and shucked off his flight gear. "I didn't want to tag along with those douche bags anyway. Carrying their gear was a small pot hole in the road to..." He scratched his chin in thought. "Awe fuck it. I just didn't want to have to hang out with them anymore."

	Eve rolled her eyes. "How was the seminar?"

	He looked at her and shrugged.
	
	"Bunch of talking heads with the tin chicken on their collar. Nothing I'd write home about in fact."

	"Nothing new from Lockheed?" Foss asked.

	"They've got some new pod that can laze targets like ten miles away. Fuck, the thing talks! They also say the new Growler mods will have the new A.I. the chair force integrated five years ago."

	"A.I.?" The sergeant asked with a hint of concern in his voice. "Is that safe?"

	Eve shrugged. "I think so. Quantum computers are more plentiful then peanuts nowadays, and even my phone tells me verbally that it appreciates when I thank it for deleting my read emails." She leaned back against the set of lockers with her her hands clasped in front of her. "To tell you the truth, I've always been sort of a nerd about these things."

	The group looked at each other then back at her knowingly. 

	"What?"

	"Dude, Eve no offense, you're like the egghead of eggheads." Foss winced, but Marcus continued. "Pisses me off that they'd send me to some big headed sci-fi convention instead of you."

	A quiet rumble interrupted them. Four blue afterburner cones illuminated the dark end of the runway through the small shops window, eventually growing to a deafening roar. When the noise passed, Eve cleared her throat.

	"I've been stuck here for internal review since last month when... Well, when that happened." She admitted. "You already know why I put in word for you to go anyway."

	Marcus snorted as he looked to the ceiling. "Never woulda thought swimming around in a shit can full of fifty other dudes could have translated to anything in aviation. I mean, we were the furthest from flying you could possibly be." The whimsical look on his face, was slowly replaced by frustration. "Radar tech in a sub has nothing to do with flying, Eve."

	"You were a submariner sir?" The sergeant asked.

	"Yeah, low life enlisted even." He said with a laugh. "Made it to a second class before I said fuck it. A year later and there I was, knee deep in the shit again, only I had some shiny stuff on my shoulders."

	Eve smiled. "As unlikely as it sounds, miracles do happen."

	"Don't you have a man to get home to?" Marcus jabbed.

	"Jealous?"

	"Sorry babe, he's not my type."

	"You don't know what you're missing Marcus."

	"Hey, dudes just don't make nice with me lady. Anyway; I'm out. See you two bright and early Monday."	

	Foss exchanged good nights to the two pilots as they left on their way home. He still had duty tonight.

	"I'm heading home sir, you need anything else?"

	"No. Have a good weekend."	

	Never having been a man of many words, Foss said only what really needed to be said. He enjoyed the peace of mind that avoiding most of the obligatory ego boosting left him in good standing with the people that truly mattered. It was taxing to have to appeal to an officer of higher rank for something like promotions, good reports, or change of station orders. He didn't need to do any of that, nor would he stoop to that level for himself.

	"No dating the banker's daughter for a key to the safe." He said to himself with a silent chuckle.

	The space had grown a bit quiet, so turning on the radio he'd expected at least some kind of music to flip through. What he heard caught his attention though.

	"-And in the middle east today, talks with the Iranian envoy have broken down almost completely, and Iran has once again ceased talks with US officials concerning the military no fly zones in the gulf of Aden, and lower Arabian Sea, blaming the United States and it's allies for the disappearances of several of it's naval cruisers. Iraqi officials have gone to emergency conference as further reports of Iranian Carriers bound north from the Gulf of Oman have Kuwaiti's once again packing their bags and boarding up shop. US presence is almost expected in the gulf as tensions between the two nations continue to rise. -In other news, strange aircraft have been sighted over the island of Okinawa-"

	"Escalation." He said worriedly.
#
    Rika was sitting in her room that evening, reading an old comic book she had forgotten under her bed.  She wondered how many years it had been there. There was a knock on her door and she grunted, putting the book down to face the intruder. Her father was standing in the door way, holding her empty school backpack.
    "Here, put what you want to bring into this" he said, tossing her schoolbag onto her bed.
    "No electronics, no drugs, no porn." he continued, counting off on his fingers. "I suggest something to read or do to pass the time and keep yourself occupied. Oh, and they'll go through your stuff, so don't even think about it," he nodded towards where Rika had her weed tucked away under the bottom drawer of the built-in. The room had no appearance of being searched at all, and she briefly wondered what else he had found.

    "Be ready in an hour," he added, turning to go.

    She sat there in shock. Her relief of escaping jail in the courtroom that morning was gone, and had been replaced with a horror that he had picked out a place on his own to send her. Knowing him he had probably thought the public option was too soft, or maybe she was going to a military school. She thought hopefully at the last option over the other choices. It would be better than jail with a bunch of high schoolers, or just plain bad kid camp. She always thought the stuff like running through the obstacle courses looked like a lot of fun, even if it was accompanied by lots of angry screaming.
    She looked up to ask him where he was sending her, but a solid oaken thud from the door signaled her father leaving, trusting her to pack her own things. Her heart sank. This was it. He was getting rid of her, washing his hands of the burden while saving himself some face.
    She sank onto the bed, tears welling up in her eyes. She kind of had it coming, all the weed she had done behind the warehouse, the parties, the drinking, all when she should have been doing other things, like actually turning in the occasional piece of homework, or even most of it. Her pathetic grades and caustic attitude she had maintain for the past few years didn't make her someone people would want to keep around either. She wished she hadn't done what she had. She wished her mom hadn't left her. She wished she had the guts to run away.
    Yet her dad had observed the poor grades, evidently knew about the weed and had been the target of many an attitude and snide remark over the past few years, and she wondered if this had been coming for a while now anyway. Maybe this had been just the excuse he needed.

    Her address book, that sci-fi novel she had always intended to read, her journal, a sketch pad, and a few assorted pens and pencils, that was it. She fingered her cell phone for a while before tossing it into the backpack. At the worst she'd get it back when she got out.
#
	When Ira looked back up at the clock again he sighed. Midnight already. Most of the noise from the hangar had quieted to a few errant swears from the lone maintainers finishing their shift. Deciding to break from the norm, he made his way out to the hangar deck, curious to see what type of people hung around the "beasts" after dark. Lieutenant Foss hadn't made it a step out the door before he was interrupted by the prehistoric cell phone vibrating in his pocket. Picking the brick out of his pocket he swore as the display flickered out then back on again.

	"Lieutenant Foss, GDO." He said curtly.

	The corporal muttered a few words, followed by some that the young aviator had never expected to hear outside of the cockpit.

	"Dead on impact..."

	The lieutenant let his shoulders slump visibly as a young marine and sailor trudged by with a noisy toolbox. The Marine stopped, concerned, but Foss only waved him away.
	
	"I'll be right there. Tell the duty driver to head back and pick up the XO, I'm headed up there now."

	With that, Foss bounded for the double doors, kicking them open and almost ripping the door off the gray van parked nearby.

#
*****

    They had been walking in the dark forest for hours now. She had been expecting to get in the car and to be dropped of at some facility, or possibly left at the bus station with a ticket in hand. When her dad had announced that they were going for a hike she was relieved, happily ditching her backpack to go with him on one last walk in freedom.
    Her father had a habit of night time strolls into the national forest that bordered their medium sized town. Often times Rika would go with of her own free will, simply to enjoy the peacefulness of the night forest. Other times he would make her go with, especially after she had gotten into trouble, and lecture her, using her own conscious to grind at her for the duration of the hike.
    This time was different. They had been gone far longer than usual for one of his midnight escapades. She had been expecting a long, painful talk as they walked, but since there had been none she eventually grew curious as to where they were going. Now that she had asked she wasn't sure if the answer even made sense. It was almost as if he were mocking her.

    "I'm what?!!" she yelled.

    "Enlisting in the Rakkan armed force," he replied calmly. "It'll get you into shape, teach you an array of skills, give you that opportunity to be remembered that you want, and hopefully straighten you out." Her father's cheerful mood burned her like hot grease.

    "You can't make me do that!" she spat, "I can't enlist until for another year, and that country doesn't even exist!"

    "In the court room, did you read everything you signed like the lawyer and I told you to?"
    "Yes..."

    "Bullshit," he turned around to look at her, the folded paper he waved contrasted the dark forest in the moonlight. "It's not even in english, yet you still signed it! If you don't want to listen to me that's fine, eventually you'll learn that I just want the best for you."

    "You bastard!" she growled. "Your making all that up, and you forged that fucking signature!" she screamed, tearing the paper from his hands and shredding it up along the path. The trail of confetti glowed in the moonlight behind her.

    Her dad didn't seem the least disturbed.

    "That was your copy. If you want another you'll have to ask them. I was going to go though the trouble of translating it too-"

    "Aw, cut the shit," she snapped, he temper beginning to cool, "I might have gotten shitty grades but I paid enough attention in geography to know that your Rakkadia or whatever is all in your head, and definitely not on the globe."

    Her father kept strolling down the path, but pointed to the heavens.

    "I never said it was on Earth,"  

    Rika's jaw dropped in shock. Her arms sagged, her knees quivered, and her bladder threatened to become distracted from it's duties.  Above them something monstrous and oblong slowly blocked out the stars and was about to pass over the moon.

Chapter Three
Chapter 2

    There was a bright light in the clearing they had hiked to. It was rectangular, as if someone had opened a door to a brightly lit room in the night. It caused her to squint if she looked at it, but it illuminated the rest of the clearing enough for her to see the brown of the dying grass and the reddish dirt of the path they had been walking on. Above them the sky was blank, as if featurelessly overcast, the light from the stars and moon being blocked be the enormous thing that was now overhead.
    The bright light was a door, she suddenly realized. There was a figure standing in it, waving. She looked over at Matt, and saw him wave back, as if he knew the person and had dealt with aliens all his life.
    It hit her that this was where she was going. She was going through that door, and would leave earth, her family, her friends all far behind. They would take her through the door, and she would never comeback. Her knees shook and buckled as her mind raced for an opportunity to escape. The woods was still to either side of her, she could duck into forest, sprint as far as she could, and then hide until dawn under a fallen tree...
    But they were aliens. They could detect things like life forms, couldn't they? If only she had a reason to turn back, an excuse to explain why she couldn't enter that clearing on top of the hill...
    Her mind ran through ideas, one immediately after another, discarding them after concluding they were useless. Left the stove on? It was electric. Forgot the dog. Didn't have one. She was sick. That didn't matter now. Finally her mind grasped at a straw that just might hold... If snowballs lasted for even a second in hell.
    "Dad?"
    "Yes dear?"
    "I can't go just yet, I just remembered I left my backpack at the house." She turned to go back, but he caught her by the wrist.
    "I know," he said, pressing a book into her hand. "This is all you need. I wrote how to contact me inside the cover. You will be fine."
    She turned back around, then stopped, clutching the book. She felt herself begin shaking uncontrollably, her knees quivering violently and threatening to fail supporting her. The next thing she knew there was an arm around her, and Matt was hugging her close.
    "It will be okay dear. I know these people, and they ARE people, not monsters. They will treat you well, and I'm positive you'll make some good friends. Quality ones," he added with a wink.

    With that he started walking again, urging her along with his arm around her shoulders. She trudged on, staring at her feet and the dirt she kicked with her shoes. Was this the last she would ever see of her home: the reddish dust rising as she was marched to her doom?
     When they got to the door she forced herself to look up. The figure was still standing there, silhouetted against the bright interior. It was tall, almost as tall as her father. She noticed that it had large, triangular ears on it's head that stood erect like that of a coyote or snow dog. As her eyes adjusted to the light she could make out more detail, noticing a striking resemblance to a canine, and to some of the bizarre drawings Matt had hanging in the hallway. It was clothed in a plain, grey body suit with almost black boots and suddenly held out an oddly shaped hand to Matt.
    "Ehy!" it exclaimed, the voice low and rumbling.

    She watched in aw as her father enthusiastically took the hand and shook it warmly.

    "Ehy Grenkle! It's been a while. How have you been?"

    The creature spoke back in a growling, strange language with her father nodding before turning the attention to her, much to her dismay.

    "Grenkle, this is Rika, my adopted daughter. She's the one I've told you all about. The one enlisting. Rika, this is Grenkle, a very good friend of mine. He and the others I'll introduce you to will make sure you're treated well."

    The creature extended his hand to her and repeated his first introduction.

    "Ehy, Rika."

    She hesitantly grasped his hand in hers, feeling the warm leathery texture of the pads on his palm and finger tips and the soft fur that covered the rest of his hand against her skin. She felt the short claw that tipped each finger as they lightly scratched her.  She noticed for the first time that he had a tail, like a dog, and was wagging it. She forced herself to look up, way up, for Grenkle was at least six and a half feet tall. His face was covered in dark grey fur that faded into a red on a pair of erect ears that remained focused on her. From his face his fur became what looked like a dark brindle before it disappeared beneath his uniform. 

  	She shook his hand and fought to keep her knees from crashing into each other.
	"Ah, er, Hello Mr. Grenkle. Nice to meet you."

     She made to let go right away and turned to flee, make a break for the cover of the forest, but instead Grenkle continued his grasp, locking her hand into his as he gently pulled her through the doorway. She fought, trying to get her hand free but he held fast, continuing to draw her through the doorway. When her eyes finally adjusted to the light she could see a small room that reminded her of an elevator. She looked back to see Matt following her, the doors sealing shut behind him. Her stomach summer-salted as she felt them begin to rise.

    Just as suddenly they stopped again, and another door appeared out of the wall in front of Grenkle and slid opened. He continued his hold on her hand as he lead her out of the elevator and into a small atrium that had several passageways leading off of it. She turned back to her father as Grenkle kept her in tow.

     Matt winked at her.

    "He'll take you to go get settled. Iv got to go take care of a few things and I'll meet back up with you before you go to bed."

    "Uh-" but before she could finish it he was gone, having disappeared down a clean, light-grey paneled hallway that looked exactly like the one Grenkle had turned down, still firmly but gently towing her with. She struggled for a moment, staring back at the empty elevator. The doors closed though, and the fight left her -there was no visible means of getting the doors to open again. Not even a button.

    Her heart sank into her shoes. There was no going back. She was theirs.

	He led her to a room that looked a lot like a subway car. Hand-grabs dangled from bars that ran over the bench seats that lined either wall. The alien sat down in the middle. The door to the room closed with a hiss, and immediately the room was filled with  a haze from the floor.
	Her skin burned, as if someone had spilt strong hot-sauce. She made to stand up, to get away from it, but Grenkle firmly pulled her back onto the bench. It reached her mouth and nose, causing her to cough as it seared her throat and lungs. Her eyes poured tears out, as they made contact with the stuff, shortly followed by her sinuses. She was beginning to panic, when she noticed that the alien was coughing and dripping tears as well.
	Suddenly she heard a fan kick on. The fog was drawn back down, into the floor, leaving her with blurred vision and tingly skin. She felt a cloth placed in her hand, and Grenkle let go of her arm. She wiped the mucus off her face and dried her eyes before the alien motioned for her to stand. He grasped her hand again and walked towards the door. There was a small control panel on the wall next to it that he fiddled with a second before the door opened again. 
	He guided her back into the dimly lit hallway, down in the same direction they had gone earlier, around a corner, and then stopped as the hall ended in another door. They paused a few moments, just standing there until there was a low, growling voice that echoed from the walls. The door in front of them opened, and they walked through. 
	It was a small, empty room, about the size of a small walk-in closet with two doors. One they had just walked through, and she could see the outline and console for another on the opposite wall.
	 The doors closed behind them. She heard the hiss of air and felt the pressure increase before the far door opened, revealing a bright, clean, well-lit hallway.
******
    Grenkle started moving again, wrapping his other hand around her shoulders as he gently guided her along. She felt blank, and she couldn't tell if she was just unable to come to grips with what had just happened, or if she was handling it far better than she expected herself to.
    Even so, part of her seemed to be extremely alert, as if her mind were overloaded, and was content to simply record everything in it's new surroundings and sort it all out later. There was nothing interesting about the hall what-so-ever, yet she was drinking it in. The floor was a featureless, medium grey. At one time it had been polished,--it was still shiny near the wall--but the center was coated in scuffs, giving Rika the impression that it was an area of high traffic.
    The walls were a light grey and made up of smooth, lighter-grey featureless panels about three and a half feet wide that stretched from a low kick plate trim about seven feet up to where they met the ceiling.
    There were no light fixtures in the hall (nor anywhere else in the ship as she would find, except for reading lamps in the berthing). Instead the ceiling glowed an even off-white, giving an even illumination to everything. They passed an occasional door, which always looked foreboding. Recessed several inches into the wall, they had a dark grey color and a heavy appearance, like they guarded a cell or dangerous equipment. 
    Grenkle passed another intersection with alien symbols painted on the corners, then turned down another hallway, stopping at the first door. He got her attention by giving her hand a squeeze, then motioned to his eyes and pointed to himself to indicate "watch me". There were a series of four colored buttons over a covered keypad. The first was green, and round. The second was blue and triangular. The third was an eight pointed star and yellow, while the last was red and square. There was a heavy metal handle attached to the door, but he pressed a few buttons on the keypad next to the door.
    He jabbed the square button, and the door made a loud "clack". Grenkle grabbed the handle and slid the door to the side, revealing a very small, plain, grey room in the same style as the hallway. There was a small bunk bed built into the wall off to the right. Half open over each bunk was what appeared to be a sliding clear "garage door". Directly in front of her were a pair of low dressers, which what looked like latching handles on either side of the drawer. Above them was something  that looked possibly like a weapon's rack. She managed only a peek, then he slid the door closed again and pressed the red square button again. There was another "clack" and he tugged on the door. It didn't move. He pressed the green circle next, and the door slid open on it's own with a hiss. Another press closed the door. The blue triangle would open and close the door a crack but no more; enough for ventilation or to see who was knocking, she guessed. The yellow star turned out to be a lock. Grenkle had to use the key pad after pressing it to open the door again. He pointed at the star-shaped button and motioned at his throat with the other hand.
    "Don't touch it," she nodded, "got it."
    He stepped to the side and held his hand under the control panel, as if displaying it for a commercial. Rika took it as an invitation to work it herself, so she did, experimenting a few times before curiosity got a hold of her as she wondered what the rest of the room inside looked like. She jabbed the green circle and the door hissed open in response.
    Torn between curiosity and fear, she cautiously stepped foot into the room, half expecting to door to slam shut and lock behind her. Instead, Grenkle followed her in, quietly standing to the side while she opened drawers and poked at the mattress. The room wasn't much more than she had noticed before. There was a very plain and boring looking desk with a pair of drawers down one side that matched the style on the dresser. An identical control pad for the door was mounted on the wall just inside the door way. She moved around the room, eventually she fingered the rack above the dresser.
    "What's this for?" she asked, not really thinking.
    His strange growl of a language came from behind her, causing her to turn. He stood with his arms out, gripping something invisible in front of him in a gesture that made it clear he was holding a rifle.
    "Aah.." replied Rika, her suspicion confirmed. She moved back to the bunk bed, tugging on the clear door that slid loosely on it's track. The bed wasn't very big. Though longer than normal human beds by about a foot and a half it was only about two and a half feet deep and maybe two feet high, at most. The mattress had a battered looking pillow and was made with brown sheets and a thin blue blanket pulled tightly over the top.
    Grenkle waved his arm and pointed to a control pad that looked similar to the one on either side of the door. There was no keypad on this one though, and it had an extra few buttons. Grenkle climbed onto the bed and showed her how to open and close the door, latch it closed, crack it open, and turn the clear door opaque and back again. On the console he showed her how she could also turn on the light for the bunk bay, and operate the warm/cool air that could flow through vents around the top. She forced an uneasy smile. It was cozy, but she liked it. For some reasons she felt it necessary to show the alien her approval.
    Grenkle suddenly swung his legs out from the bunk and stood up. He touched her book and motioned to her bed, speaking something that sounded like a chicken bone in the garbage disposal. She set the book down, and for the first time noticed the cover. It was Greg Howell's "Human Memoirs", a novel she had written on her birthday wish list before she was arrested.
    She looked at Grenkle again, who was waiting in the doorway. He beckoned her to him and spoke again.

    "Grohey, no'magu raf'hash morinaw."

    She walked over and they began moving down the hallway in the opposite direction at an amble. They passed the intersection with the hall they had turned off before and kept going. Rika was still in shock from everything, and it was easy for her to lose herself in thought at she automatically followed the grey blob in the corner of her vision.
    She was stuck here, with these aliens. She didn't know for how long, or what they were going to do with or too her. There was a hunch that she wouldn't be seeing any other humans for a long time, possibly years if ever again, and that realization almost made her stop in place. Years... Years without having a conversation in english... Years without seeing a face she recognized as her own species and could read the body language of. Years surrounded by these bizarre people in a futuristic world. She didn't even know their language. How would she survive?
    But she could do something about the communication barrier, she realized. If one could learn Spanish or Japanese, why couldn't one could learn their language?

    "Grenkle?" she said, making him look up. He had the look of a startled dog, perhaps by her boldness?
    "Etsh?" he replied.
    "Can you teach me to speak... your language?"
    He stopped walking and turned to face her. She stopped without thinking, still looking at the ground, "It's just, I'm going to have to live with your people for I don't know how long, and even though you might understand me I can't understand what your-"
    Two fingers interrupted her, pressing gently up under her chin. She followed them, looking up at Grenkle. He was beaming, the expression similar to that of their old dog after she had nabbed a ground hog in the back yard.
    "Etsh." he replied
    "Etsh?" she repeated.
    "Etsh," he nodded.
    "Etsh means yes?"
    He nodded again, "Etsh! Gorroom etch nal'hosh math ini fa yes."
    "I don't understand you, I'm sorry. Something about etsh and yes."
    He placed a finger over her lips and shook his head, "Gorroom etsh. Oni yes."
    "You don't want me to use it? You've lost me."
    "Oni yes."
    "Is 'yes' one of your words too?"
    He shook his head, and let out a low grumble while staring in thought at the wall, "Oni."
    "Oni means no?"
    He looked up suddenly, his tail giving a wag behind him.
    "Etsh."
    "So you don't want me using yes any more?"
    "Etsh! Oni yes, ma'se oni no."
    "I can't say yes or no anymore? Then what am I supposed to say?"
    "Etsh, ma'se oni."
    She bit her lip, not liking where this language lesson was going. She gave in only after a second though; "Let me guess, I'll learn faster this way, right?"
    "Etsh."
    She sighed. "I guess it's for the best. It's not like anyone else around me will speak english."
    He gave her a pat on her shoulder and pointed down the hall. "Nawath?" he said, patting his stomach and pointing to his mouth with the other hand.
    "Food? Nawath is food?"
    "Oni food, gorroom nawath!" he cheered, his damn tail wagging so fast it was blur.
    "Ah! At this rate you'll take all my words!" she exclaimed. "I would like some foo- er, nawath though. My stomach is growling. Uh, I can eat your food, I mean, it's not going to poison me, right?"
    He started walking again down the hall, "Etsh."
    He led her through a maze of passage ways, up a couple of ladder-wells, through some more hallway, down another ladder-well and another hall that lead to a double automatic door. Grenkle walked up to the door and it hissed open to either side revealing what looked like everything of the inside of a medium sized cafeteria. Four rows of about five round tables filled the floor to the back wall with little walking room between each.  Each table could sit about eight people comfortably, the chairs sliding in and out along tracks in the floor and pivoting, as indicated by the handful of rakkan that were eating. Along the length of the right side of the room ran a serving line, manned by several rakkan wearing food stained uniforms similar in appearance to that which Grenkle wore, only white. About seven more of the aliens stood in line at the serving bar, most looking rather tired.
    Grenkle walked up to the back of the line, waving and calling back to a few that noticed him. Everyone saw her though. A few stared, but quickly averted their eyes when she looked at them. Grenkle held short conversation with a few of them, and Rika had a suspicion much of it was about her. One of them who was seated at a near by table finished eating and came over to them, continuing the conversation. He was a a few inches shorter than Rika and covered in dark brown fur. A jet black blaze ran from his nose to between his eyes where after it widened into broad stripe than disappeared beneath the back of the collar of his uniform. Eventually they finished and the rakkan turned to Rika, holding out his hand.

    "Ehy, Rika'. Moru na Agner."
    "Hello-" began Rika, but she was cut off by Grenkle, who waved his hand and corrected her.
    "Ehy, Agner."
    "Ehy, Agner," she began. "Moru na Rika?" she finished, ending it in more of a question to Grenkle than anything else.
    "Moru na Grenkle," Grenkle replied with a wag, then pointed to her, "Oni 'hello'."

    "This is too fast," she whined in mock anger, "He keeps taking my words! How will I talk?"
    Agner made a noise that sounded like a series of guttural barks. A laugh?

    He growled something to her, waved at Grenkle and walked out through the door, leaving them in the moving line. It wasn't long before Rika found a tray shoved at her. She looked up to see Grenkle pulling another one off a stack on top of the bar for himself and grabbing a handful of utensils from a bin. He dropped a set on her tray as he slid his down the line.
    A pair of chopsticks, a spoon, and a knife, all made out of the same black material. She picked up a chopstick and looked it over. The texture was that of a hard plastic, but it was much more rigid. She fingered it a few more moments before the waft of something delicious caught her attention.
    Grenkle was talking to one of the servers, pointing to things on the bar through the clear paneling. The server had two plates of the same black color. She didn't recognize any of the food, though it smelt wonderful. There were trays of different colored casseroles and sauces and strange vegetables and meats. She didn't know what any of it was --it could be stewed donkey dung for all she knew-- but if it smelt like that she didn't care. She enjoyed simply breathing the air, her mouth watering in anticipation.
    One of the plates the server had looked like it had a vegetable and a casserole of some kind. The other she assumed was hers, as Grenkle was having the server put a small portion of almost everything on it.

    "Are they done performing those horrible experiments on you yet?"
    The deep, human male voice made her jump. Her dad stood behind her with his tray, grinning.
    "Hello!" he smiled.
    "Hell-" she began, but was abruptly interrupted by a sharp growl of a bark.
    "BARH!"
    She jumped and looked at Grenkle, the exact reaction he wanted. He looked very calm for having made the noise, in fact he was quietly taking the plates from the server.
    "Ehy," he corrected, "Oni hello."
    "What!" exclaimed Rika, "Even to my own dad?"
    "Etsh," replied the rakken.
    She sighed, and continued. "Ehy dad."
    "Ehy daughter!" he replied with a laugh, "I see the language lessons have already started."
    "Etsh," she glowered, "he won't let me use english if I know their word."
    "It works though," he said, "it's how I learned." He handed his plate to the server, "Ah, etsh. Aormu. Na."
    Her father continued down the serving line as they left. Rika grabbed her tray and followed Grenkle to a table, Matt following shortly as a group of about ten or twelve filthy looking aliens trudged into the cafeteria. She mused briefly at such a futuristic race still having dirty jobs and a night shift. The thought was lost when she shoveled a spoonful of casserole into her mouth though.
    Flavor exploded through her nose and tongue, erupting into her brain as she closed her eyes and savored the food. She hadn't tasted anything like this before, not even at her grandmothers. That lady could cook, too! She moaned, chewing slowly and letting the spices and ingredients roll over her tongue. When she opened her eyes Matt was sitting across from her, quietly laughing.
    "Good food, eh?"
    "Oh man, like nothing else! If the fo- ah..." she glanced at Grenkle who had stopped eating her and was watching her, waiting to see if she would use the english word or not. "Nawath!"  she said, "If the nawath is always this good I don't care if I ever eat pizza again!"
    Matt chuckled as he scooped up a spoonful on his own plate, "You will, but I have to say I've missed the Trisona's grub a little myself. The cooks aboard definitely know what they are doing... or at least know how to use that powerful schnoz of theirs."
    Grenkle growled something at him between mouthfuls, with Matt rumbled something back occasionally. She noticed rakkan didn't chew very much at a time, she figured that probably had a lot to do with not having cheeks. Still, watching Grenkle eat and talk, along with the other rakkan in the cafeteria she was surprised by how 'human' they were. They were people, she realized, and despite odd mannerisms they were just like everyone else.
    "Rika," said Matt through half a mouthful of food before swallowing, "you will be getting a vaccine tonight. It's for a very dangerous disease that they can carry and is transferrable to us. The vaccine is safe and it won't hurt you. Oh, and they'll probably fit you with a retriever so you don't get lost or jettison yourself into a vacuum or blow something up. I'm telling you all of this now so you don't flip out if someone tries to stick a needle in your arm. Ok?"
    She nodded, "Etsh."
    Vaccines made sense. Humans carried all sorts of nasty things themselves, like E. Coli and Strep., along with a host of other wonderful gems like Variola, Ebola, Yeast, etc... so why would these people be any different? A retriever she didn't like the sound of, but she blocked it out mentally. There was enough else to worry about, and it probably sounded worse than it really was.
    A jet black rakken with a grey blaze and dark grey patches of fur on either side of their muzzle had quietly walked up behind Matt. It looked directly at her, seemingly unfazed by the presence of another human, and put a finger over it's lips -a very human gesture as she was to learn- for silence. Suspecting the creature was plotting something to Matt's demise, Rika looked at Grenkle and acted like she was going to ask him a question. The rakkan's black hands slipped over Matt's eyes. When it spoke it was in english, but the accent was strong enough to stand a spoon up in.

    "Guss who?"

    Matt broke into a grin, "Ehy Bar ol' girl! Long time no see."

    "Ehy," the rakkan began as she pulled his head into her stomach, then he rambled on into something Rika didn't understand.

    "Bar," said Matt, motioning to Grenkle with his eyes still covered, "This is Rika, I told you about her before. Rika this is Bar, another one of the folks I used to work with."

    Bar let go of Matt's head and extended a hand across the table, winking at Rika. Grenkle took it.

    "Ehy Bar." Said Grenkle.

    "Ehy Rika'," Bar replied with an attitude of extreme professionalism. It was like she was meeting the pope. Matt sighed and rubbed his forehead.

    "Before you ask: Yes, they are always like that, and since both Grenkle and Bar don't do much while the ship is under way you'll most likely be spending time with one or the other. They'll keep you out of trouble and teach you what you need to know. I'll be in and out. They've put me to work already, apparently someone thought it would be a great idea to purchase a few old earth aircraft to train with, but they're asking me about modifying them somehow." He rolled his eyes, "-pieces of shit. I can't get away from them."

    Bar started chittering with Matt again, sliding into the seat next to him. Rika continued to relish in her plate of food, most of them she liked, a few she did not. Finally she was full. She slumped back in the chair, pushing her plate away from the edge.

    "That was amazing."

    Grenkle dug at something in his teeth with a claw, "Etsh." He stood up and picked his plate off the table, with Rika mimicking his actions. She gave a nod to her dad who was still talking to Bar. He nodded back, and she followed Grenkle across the galley to a series of holes in the wall. They were all waist high, and alternated between a slot that was about four inches high and a foot wide and a round hole that she might have been able to fit her fist through. He slid his plate into the slot where it was promptly whisked away with the muffled sound of machinery. She did the same as he dumped his silverware through the round hole.

    They walked back out the door they had first entered and once again got lost in the maze of hallways and ladder wells and elevators until they arrived at a set of double doors much like that on the galley, but with a large, bright green symbol on them of a downward facing crescent balancing on a pole, almost like a soggy letter "T". Inside looked like entryway to an emergency room, with gurneys parked against the walls along with waiting chairs and another set of double doors that looked like someone had gotten impatient with and rammed a few times with a gurney. Black streaks lined through the same green symbol that had been on the outer door.

    Grenkle motioned for her to sit, saying something she didn't catch while he talked to a rakkan seated behind a counter. He nodded a few times was ambling his way back to where she was when the inner door slid open and Agner popped out, wearing a large grey pouch on a belt over his hip. The dark brown rakkan immediately noticed Grenkle and turned to the receptionist, growling something while pointing to her. The receptionist nodded and Agner turned back towards the doors.

    "Grenkle, Reek-ka," he called, motioning them to follow.

    Rika stood up and followed him and Grenkle through the doorway into a wide hall that branched off several times.. He led them down a hallway immediately to the right, and into what was obviously an exam room, closing the door behind them. Inside the room was a short counter in the corner with a set of drawers below it and a few cabinets above it. In the middle of the room sat a long, padded exam table and small chair next to the door. Agner and Grenkle talked back and forth about something for a few minutes before Grenkle turned to her. He opened his mouth as if to say something, gave a defeated look and then shrugged, as if to tell her "I can't explain."

    She nodded and rolled up her sleeve, remembering what Matt had mentioned earlier about a vaccine. Grenkle gave an expression that looked like he had just slapped himself in the face, and Agner looked relieved, opening a cabinet on the short counter and drawing out a white, capped pen shaped object and another tool that looked like a small flashlight with the head bent at a ninety degree angle. He held it up, and it shone a small square of brilliantly bright light on her shoulder.

    "What is that?" she asked, pointing to the device.

    "Oma gokawa," replied Grenkle.

    "Oma gokawa," she repeated, pointing at the strange object.

    Grenkle shook his head and touched her lips, "Oma gokawa?"

    "Oma Gokawa means 'what is that?"

    Grenkle nodded. Rika pointed at the device again, which Agner had finished using and had set back on the counter.

    "Oma gokawa?"

    Grenkle paused for a moment, then held his hands up and imitated a human shrug. He didn't know what it was called either. Agner stepped back, putting the cap back on the pen.

    "Done already?"

    He nodded, growling something.    

    "Wow, that was fast," she said, rolling down her shirt sleeve.

    He didn't reply, instead he dumped the pen through small hole in the wall and began rummaging through the pouch he wore. Grenkle watched him for a few minutes before she saw an idea come to his mind and he pulled a small handheld computer from his pocket. At first she thought it was a game, but when he walked next to her and leaned over she could see the screen. On it was displayed  map, and he was moving an icon with a plate and chopsticks to a large room, one that she recognized as the Galley. Once the icon was placed he flipped through several other maps, stopping at one before opening a menu full of symbols and scrolling through them.

    A pair of hands reached towards her holding something and she jerked back out of instinct. Agner withdrew quickly, looking uneasy. In his hands he held a featureless strap. Brilliant red in color, it was about ten or so inches long and about an inch wide, but other than that it was completely featureless.

    He growled something, holding up the strap and motioning around his wrist before pointing at her.

    "Oma gokawa?" she asked.

    "Argh," he said, looking frustrated. Grenkle saved him by thrusting the computer in front of her again. It showed a map, this time of the floor they were on. The reception area was marked with the same green soggy "T" the doors where, and she could see a blinking red dot in the room they were in.

    "This thing?" she asked, pointing to the dot on the small screen with one hand and motioning to the computer with the other. Grenkle shook his head and pointed to the strap. It was a tracking device, she realized, the 'retriever'.

    "I don't know about that..." she said, "it would be kind of creepy to be followed everywhere. Can't I just use a map without that? I won't get into trouble." Grenkle got her attention and pointed to the screen again. This time there was an icon of a bed in a small room.

    Agner didn't wast any time. Before she could react she felt the band around her left wrist, shrinking down until it contacted her arm gently all the way around. She snatched at it, tugging and feeling and looking around it's circumference in search of a buckle or some fastener. The strap didn't give at all though, and her fingers found nothing, giving the impression that it had been manufactured in a circle, perfectly sized around her arm.

    "WHAT THE FUCK!" she yelled, "why the hell would you do that?!"

    Agner's ears were flat against his head, and he looked at the ground, almost apologetically. He shrugged, and muttered something. Grenkle looked frustrated for a moment, then showed Rika the map on his PDA again, quickly flipping through the different floors of the ship. Then he pulled it away and pointed to Rika before holding his hand over his eyes to exaggerate himself looking for something. After that he gave an exasperated shrug.

    "I'll get lost? You won't be able to find me? What?"

    He growled something, pointing back and forth between two imaginary points in front of him.

    "Both?"

    Grenkle nodded.

    "How can I get lost! I'm short, have no muzzle and I'm furless! All you'd have to do is ask which way the naked tailless money went!"

    He sighed and shook his head before taking a small, oblong cylinder from Agner. He pressed the end of the cylinder and a holographic two dimensional map identical to the one he had just shown her on his PDA appeared from the side of the cylinder. He twisted a dial at one end and the maps scrolled by on top of each other -the floors of the ship. He twisted the other dial and a menu of symbols appeared, scrolling through them until he found the one with a plate and chopsticks. A tap on the end of the cylinder selected it, and the menu disappeared. The map showed a blue line running back out the doors and down the hallways the way they had come.

    "Neat, it's a map. I don't see what that has to do with me wearing this stupid thing."

    His brow furrowed again and he groaned, getting frustrated. He pointed to the red dot on the map before handing it to her and pulling up his PDA and showing her the same red dot, then grabbing Agner's PDA and pulling up the map, showing her the same red blinking dot.

    "Everyone will know where I am. So what? I'm sure you could just as easily use this map thing than this stupid cuff."

    He nodded, then snatched the map from her, tossing it underneath the exam table. Then he made a big show of frantically looking through drawers, under the chair, above cabinets, and even patted the sides of Agner's uniform. Then he stopped, pulled out his PDA again, pointed to the red dot, and then to Rika's wrist.

    "I'm an adult enough not to loose the map."

    Grenkle gave her a look that said "you say that now..." He went back to his PDA, pulling up a floor where several of the rooms were colored a solid red. He showed Rika the screen and gave her a terrified look, crossing his arms before drawing his hand across his throat, lolling his tongue out one side and giving an obvious "dead" face.

    "The rooms are dangerous?"

    He nodded vigorously, looking very serious.

    "But if I loose the map, even with this stupid bracelet, how am I going to know when I am going into one?"

    Grenkle used his fingers to imitate someone walking on the map displayed on his PDA. He "walked" up to one of the doorways of a red room, then reached out and pinched Rika's arm.

    "Ouch!" she gasped, "This thing is going to hurt me if I walk near the wrong door?"

    Grenkle nodded and held up his thumb and forefinger, indicating something small. He said something she didn't understand, then walked past Agner to the door. Once at the door he grabbed his wrist and gave a small yip, then reached for the console. He motioned like he was going to open the door, then suddenly leaned to one side and started snoring. After that he made a beeping noise, stood upright again and pulled out his PDA, giving an expression of shock.

    "So it'll knock me out if I try to open the door."

    Grenkle nodded.

    "Because it might hurt me."

    He gave an exaggerated nod.

    "So it's safer to knock me out automatically, where I might fall and hit my head, than let me open the door, see that it's dangerous and decide otherwise," she said, dripping with sarcasm.

     Grenkle growled, then turned around and waved his hands to the sky, clearly frustrated. Afterwards he stood for a few minutes thinking, then turned back to his PDA, as if an inspiration hit him. Moments later he showed it to her again.

    It looked like a movie clip, only with rakkan actors instead of humans. There was a group arguing outside a door. One was clearly trying to talk the other out of something. The second rakkan wasn't having any of it though, because the person defiantly pressed the green circle, automatically actuating the door.

    Fur burned from skin, which instantly boiled and vaporized from flesh that charred and evaporated within seconds. Even though it looked like a scifi movie to Rika, she found it revolting. The scene shifted to a different part of the ship several times, showing the same fate of everyone on board; in the galley, in the bridge, in berthing, and everywhere in between. The video ended with alien words across the screen, and a voice saying something she couldn't understand. It was clearly a informational or safety video.

    "THAT'S what's behind those doors?"

    Grenkle counted a few fingers, then nodded. Inside some of them, yes.

    Rika remembered touring a nuclear Submarine one summer, and the tour guide explaining the dangers of opening the wrong door at the wrong time. She fingered the band around her wrist, imagining herself opening a door and getting blasted with radiation; evaporating herself instantly and flooding the hallways of the ship with agonizing death to anyone who touched the very air, or getting launched into space's infinite vacuum as she opened a door to the outside.  

    "Alright. I guess I'll put up with it for now."
    
    Grenkle's tail gave a wag and he growled again, pointing down the hall while imitating her dad's distinctive stroll. Then he motioned to punching himself in the face.

    "Yeah, if he lived I doubt he would be very happy with either of us." She gazed over where Agner was still looking like he had stepped on a kitten. "I understand now Agner, stop looking guilty. It's ok."

    He looked up at her, his expression perking somewhat, then gave her a thumbs up before slinking out of the room.

    "He's a bit of an odd fellow, isn't he?"  
  
    Grenkle nodded in agreement, picking up the PDA and slipping it back into a pocket. Rika thumbed through the menu of her map, stopping at something that looked like writing.

    "What's this?" she asked, showing the map. Grenkle peered down at it before tapping himself on the chest.

    "Grenkle," he growled.

    "That's you?," she asked, selecting it and pulling up the location on the map. "This is where you live?"

    He shook his head, and growled a word. Rika tried it a few times, Grenkle saying it slowly as she stumbled over it until she got it right. Once she did, she pointed to the map and repeated the word.

    "Etsh," he smiled. "Oni 'work'."

    She sighed, having lost another word in her shrinking english vocabulary. "I'm not going to remember all of these right away. You know that, right?"

    Grenkle patted her on the head, then turned the menu to show a bed, and selected it. She looked up to see his face, trying to understand. He simply motioned to himself, thought for a bit, then put him hands together next to him face and closed his eyes before looking at her and motioning over his shoulder with a thumb.

    "You're going to bed?"

    He nodded, then pointed at her.

    "Me too?"

    He shrugged. He wasn't going to force her, he was just asking, and that made her feel better. It had been a long day though...

    "Yeah, I think I'm going to too."

    He nodded, then grabbed the map again, re-selecting his name.

    "You want me to find you here tomorrow?"

    He gave her a thumbs up, moving towards the door.

    "Ok, I can do that. This map will make it hard to get lost."

    He nodded again, waved, and disappeared out the door. Rika stared at the map again. The red dot slowly blinked in the center of the map. The dot that would always be there, reminding her that she was being watched as long as she was on board, however long that was. She gave a sigh and selected her room again.

    It was better than irradiating herself. She could explore safely, and it didn't look like she was going to be under any escort now that she had her electronic, unremovable "friend". Would she have traded this for being shadowed by someone the entire time? Probably not. She stood and walked out into the hall and left the clinic, ambling down the hall as she followed the red line on the map.

    There were a few Rakkan out and about as she made her way back to her room. She only got second glance from a few. A couple even waved, growling a greeting that she echoed. When she got to her room her eyes were starting to feel heavy, and by the time she had gotten undressed and slid herself into the bed she was so exhausted that she barely noticed the lights automatically dimming.

Chapter Four
Chapter 3

******

    She was flying, high and very, very fast. Below her she could see the curve of the earth as it appeared to twirl backwards, the swirling clouds bursting into brilliance as the sun rose in the west. She was in a cockpit, and even though it was dark she could make out two other figures in front of her, and one to her right. She was a part of the crew, and knew them all well. Almost too well. They felt closer than any family she had ever known. She knew them all like the back of her hand, and loved them like nothing else. Her crew. Her pack. The word floated warmly in her mind. Her pack was her family... She had a family... A real one.
	The wall illuminated slightly as she sat up, barely stopping herself in time as she noticed the ceiling a measly few inches from her forehead. This wasn't her bed.

    She rolled over, and saw the opening of her bunk into the rest of a very small room... which definitely wasn't her bedroom. Her heart began to race as she climbed out of bed, the room suddenly becoming much brighter. Where was she? Why was she here? She didn't remember drinking at all last night... or did she? Max had told her they were going to have a party on the wharf on Friday... did she end up on a boat? Last she remembered it was a Wednesday though... what day was it anyway?
	She was about to do a feverish search in her mind for the happenings of the night before when she came face-to-face with a mirror. A scared, bedraggled looking young woman stared back at her. It wasn't her wild, shoulder length brown hair, sleepy eyes, or unclothed body that caught her attention though. The solid, uninterrupted stripe of red around her wrist opened a floodgate of memories of the day before, flowing in reverse from Agner's sly move in the infirmary, to eating in a cafeteria surrounded by canine-esk extra terrestrials, to Grenkle pulling her aboard the ship from the clearing. She remembered her shock and fear at learning her fate, and the long hike through the forest in the dark. There was her father, telling her to pack little, and the judge, smacking his hammer.
	Oh God! What kind of trouble was she in? She was aboard an alien ship, handed off to an alien military. Her mind raced, images of every alien movie she had ever seen running through her mind at blinding speed. Her legs began to quiver, and she sat down on the bed again.
	There was something hard and rigid under her butt. She pulled out the book that she had forgotten about the night before. She had asked for it based on a recommendation by a friend, but knew nothing about the story itself. She flipped to the first page, and read a quote that headed the first chapter:
 
   "I, a stranger and afraid,
    In a world I never made."
    -HOUSMAN

    "Brother, you said it," she muttered.

    There was a knock on her door.

    "Just a minute!" She yelled, dumping the book aside and quickly pulling on her clothes before opening the door.

    She didn't know what to expect; but the images of gurney ran across her mind, adorn with straps and several of the aliens waiting to tie her down and wheel her away to her doom. Or maybe just Agner and a few others, impatient to experiment on a new life form. What she didn't expect to see was Grenkle, alone, looking like he had just rolled out of bed himself. His eyes were half open, and any fur not covered by his uniform had the appearance of "I'm-within-regulations-I'll-fix-the-rest-when-I'm-awake" look.
    He held and invisible plate in front of him and mimicked eating something with chopsticks.

    "Nawath?" he asked.

    "Uh," began Rika, still trying to recover from her mild panic. She froze for a few seconds as she collected herself. The word sounded like it should be something she knew.

	"Yeah," she said, pulling herself together, "Nawath sounds like a good idea."
    
	Grenkle didn't leave her much time to worry about her situation. He immediately started the language lessons again, beginning with the dining ware and tried explaining what she was eating. They didn't get very far, but he successfully kept her mind of anything else until the meal was over. Afterwards he lead her up to his office, where he fiddled with his PDA a bit before a small stack of papers slid out of a slot in the side of his desk, dropping into a folding tray one at a time.
	Rika was amused at this. Far more advanced than anything she had seen, and they still used the good old parchment.

	"Wow, I can't believe you still use paper," she said.

	Grenkle acted like a child, crashing his PDA into the desk with a mimicked explosion. She giggled.

	"Hah! So even you guys have system crashes."
    
	His ears flickered out in what Rika read as a smile. He handed Rika the papers that had stopped sliding out of the side of his desk. She fingered through them before realizing that it was the same two documents, printed twice. Once in the strange, bizarre characters she was learning to speak, and another time in English. She paged through the first document, the symbols making about as much sense to her as Egyptian hieroglyphics. She stopped at that last page though, and her heart caught. There at the bottom was her name, signed in her own handwriting. It was dated over two weeks ago.
	She skipped the second document, also written in rakkan, and went straight to the first one printed in english. She pulled both out and held them side-by-side for Grenkle to see.

	"Are these the same?" she asked.

	He nodded. She began to read the english document, running through the five steps of grief. At first she was in denial as she began comprehending the terms of her contract.

	 "No, no, this can't be. I didn't sign this.. I couldn't have..."

	But she knew she had, just as she knew that her father had anticipated she would before she had even picked up a pen. She could almost taste the bitterness as it burned away at her- anger at her father for pulling a low trick, but more angry at herself for ignoring what she knew was good advice simply for the sake of rebellion. As she kept reading that too passed, and her rage melted into something different. She began rescanning the contract, looking for loopholes.

	"Is there anyway I can not go? You know, like say I wasn't thinking properly, or cancel the contract before it takes effect?"

	Grenkle shook his head. His face was blank, his body emotionless. He was simply watching her ride the roller coaster. A passive observer. Rika could feel a great weight wrapping it's self around her heart. They had her as securely by this contract as they did by the cuff around her wrist. There was no escaping. Her fate was spelled out in the black letters on the paper. Suicide crossed her mind, -briefly. The feeling of being trapped was almost overwhelming, but she loved life too much to not search for a sliver of hope.
	She picked up the contract again, looking over the conditions and terms she had agreed to without reading. Ten years. Supplied pay, room and board. Job description to be determined later. Entry grade to be first enlisted. A decade of likely traveling all over the universe, but never setting foot on earth again. Even once it ended, how would she get back? It's not like they ran a regular shuttle service to Earth. Or did they? Matt had left and returned evidently.
	Maybe it wouldn't be that bad. It was ten years she had given away at a careless mistake, there was nothing she could to about that now. Perhaps she would have fun. She doubted it, but one never knew. It was certain that she would learn a lot, and how many folks could honestly say that they had ever met an alien, let alone served in an alien military?
	She stared at her signature at the bottom of a page filled with alien writing. Over all, actually, it didn't seem like she was getting too bad of a deal. When it came to extra terrestrials, this was lot better than being bound to a slab while they picked you apart alive...

	"Well," she said, putting the document on Grenkle's desk, "it's going to be an interesting ride at the least. I take it I'm starting training?"

	He tapped the other document in her hand. She gave him a puzzled look, then began reading. It was her orders, telling her to report for basic training at a camp she couldn't pronounce before the forty third day of a month she didn't know.

	"I have no idea where or when this is," she said, pointing to the page. Grenkled motioned his hand landing on the table.
   	"After we land? How long until we do that?" she said, feeling nervous. Grenkle flashed the ten fingers on his hands three times.

    "Thirty? Thirty hours? No? Thirty days?"

	He nodded, and Rika relaxed a little. She had time to prepare, both mentally and physically. She could continue learning from Grenkle, and hopefully have enough of a grip on the lingo to not be completely lost on her arrival.
	She looked back over her contract printed in english, her eyes stopping at the mention of salary.

	"I'm going to be paid?"

	Grenkle nodded with an expression that said "Really? Did you really think you wouldn't be paid?"

	"How much is this in dollars?"

	Grenkle picked up his PDA and fiddled with it for a few moments before scribbling a number in the margin of her contract. An accented voice over her shoulder made her jump.

	"Its not much, but yoo'll get moor when yoor promoted."

	Rika looked up to see Bar reading over her shoulder.

	"Ehy Bar. It's still more than I've ever made before."

	"Did yoo go o'er the contract with 'er Grenkle?"

	He nodded.

	"Good!" said Bar before turning to Rika, "I made an appointment for yoor entry processing this afternoon."

	Rika shifted uneasily. Despite the friendly attitude of those around here she still didn't quite trust these people... especially when it came to anything medical, which was bound to be a part of it. She wanted to stay as far away from the infirmary as possible. Bar must have noticed her nervousness, because she crouched down to look at her eye-to-eye.

	"Relax Rika'. We're not going to hurt you. It's un'le, unple... it sucks but the papers don't fill themselves out. And the exam is nothing to be afraid of. Nobody is going to be stabbed or cut open."

	Rika nodded, but she didn't feel any better.

	Bar drummed her fingers on the desk while looking at the wall. "I wish humans weren't so afraid of this kin' of thing. After watching those movies last time I kno' why though. Fucking skinnies."

	Grenkle muttered something and Bar nodded in agreement.

	"What did he say?" Rika asked.

	"He said at least yoo arn't as bad as Matt was. He was a pain in the... um, not anus... ass! Etsh, he was a pain in the ass to get anything done with. Trusted nobody."

	"Really?"

	"Etsh. Grenkle brought him on board the firs' time. Told me how he had to esplain everything in detail or he wouldn't move. He didn't even eat for a'most a week -thought we were gonna to try and drug him. Crazy fucking bastard."

	Rika giggled, glad she wasn't the only one who thought he was a bit over the edge. Grenkle said something that she couldn't understand and Bar nodded.

	"He's right, but under the circumstances I think 'll give yoo one more day of English."

	Rika eyed Grenkle suspiciously.

	"So you CAN speak english... you just refuse to."

	He nodded, saying something in Rakkan. Bar giggled, her ears out in amusement.

	"He says its to help yoo learn. I just think he's really rusty and afraid of embarrassing himself."

	Grenkle bit his top lip, his bottom teeth showing in a gesture.

	"Tha's like showing yoor finger to someone, Rika'" Bar explained, "Same to you Grenkl. Come on Rika', lets go finish gitting yoo enliste'e."

	"Processing" sounded a lot more ominous than it really was. The anticipation of the horrible was always there. There was always another unknown step she was shuffled off to after another; from one office in the medical department to another without explanation only to learn it was something mundane like "touch your toes", "Walk to the wall", "fill out all this paperwork", "let me test your eyes," "read this for me"(She failed that one, was was suspicious of her hearing test: there was an awful lot of silence). The only excitement was one station where Bar, who had always followed quietly behind her and translated instructions when she needed to, began having a rather serious conversation with one of the staff members. After several minutes the other person left, and Bar looked at Rika and gave an awkward shrug.

	"I guess they'll have to take care of that when yoo get to bootcamp. They don't have it here. Oo well."

	"Have what?"

	"This... this... this shit here on th' list. We'll explain later. Next room. Lets go."

	And that was how it went until suddenly six hours had gone by and Bar sighed and put her PDA away.

	"Finally. That sucked as much as the first time." The alien groaned. "I'm gooing to go eat. Why not come with me and then I'll get yoo back so Grenkle can keep playing language proofessoor" 

	Which he wasn't that bad at. Over the next month Rika would follow him or Bar around. They would show her things, and teach her the word for it. After she understood the english word was forbidden. She forgot, often at first, and they would correct her, usually with a short bark to interrupt her, then repeat the Rakkan word.
	It was painful. The native rakkan thought it was hilarious when she got corrected, especially the enlisted, with a few even mimicking her reactions to their friends. There were some days she felt like she got barked at more than talked to. Other times she almost felt like she could carry on a conversation. About a week before they landed she got to the point were she was talking with Grenkle and Bar almost completely in there native tongue, with them making small grammar corrections and occasionally teaching a new word.

	One morning there was a knock on her door, and she opened it to find Grenkle there, like she usually did when there was a knock, only instead of his normal just-rolled-out-of-bed appearance he was strikingly well groomed and excited.

	[We're home!] he exclaimed, grabbing her by the hand and half dragging her down the hall to a viewport.
	Below, and brown and green planet splashed with blue rotated slowly. Wisps of clouds streaked the surface. Rika could make out a pair of ice caps at the poles. Her stomach had butterflies. She would be starting her training soon, and she guessed it would be some sort of boot camp. After that, it was ten years of life on this planet, living with the rakkan. She hated to think about it, but it would probably become to her the same thing it was to Grenkle.
	"Well ol' girl," she said to herself, "welcome to your new 'home'."

#
Iranian Gulf. Dawn.

	"All hands, check for fod, check your pockets, check the deck. Deck crew prep the cables, prep the fuel, prep the line. Launch crew prep the shingles, prep the cats, prep the steps. All hands ready launches, zero nine hundred recovery and turn around."

	The PA system rang out loud enough for the entire deck to hear, the first set of pilots quickly hurrying to the rescue helicopter at the stern. Lifting off, it bobbled a bit in the thirty knot wind as it left the grayed tarmac. Cresting the side, it sunk a bit until it lifted into the air in a constant hover around the carrier itself. The one and two catapults at the bow spewed steam as the two small shuttles reset themselves. Eve watched mindlessly as the blast barriers came up, blocking the cone of superheated fuel and afterburner flame from her cockpit. The two F-35s' lurched suddenly against the hold back bar holding it in place before they shot, one after the other, across the deck and out into the air.

	The barrier in front of her came down and a yellow shirted deck hand ran in front of them. He waved both of his hands outward at the elbows, quickly ushering them forward until they were guided onto the catapults path. She felt a slight bump as the hold back bar and launch bar snapped into place, the jet fighting to meet the the mating point. Hooked up and ready to go she followed the yellow shirts' instructions to push the throttles to max, pushing the nose of the fighter down against the raw power. Turning to a different yellow shirt, the "boss", she saluted and put her hands up on the bars next to the canopy.

	Normally, she would have stared ahead waiting for the zero to one hundred thirty naught roller coaster ride. Normally. Today though, for some unknown reason she looked down at her fuel load. Within limits. She checked, but a single light caught her attention. A warning for high pressure in the tanks themselves. Looking to her right she held up a capital "T" with her hands, but the yellow shirt looked up and signaled for her to shut down, waving his hands frantically. Popping the canopy she looked back at what the deck hands were pointing at.

	"Awe fuckin hell." Ruffles, her navigator cursed over the coms. "Scout, you fucking gassed the flight deck."

	True to words, her eye caught a growing lake of jet fuel surrounding the deck, emptying from one of the five fuel tanks mounted underneath.

	"What the fuck! What did I get stuck with you for anyway? My luck is already bad enough, I don't need to be fucking pallin' around with your reject-"

	Eve turned around in her seat and ripped out the com cable from his mask, throwing it in his lap and sitting back down. She waited patiently as her bird's leak was plugged up and pulled back to the line next to the other idling fighters, before jumping out and heading back down to the ready room for an after action report, and a possible second assignment. Her navigator simply sat in his seat, bewildered.

	Foss managed to catch the whole thing, inwardly smiling as that little shit in the back seat had, for the first time since they had come aboard, successfully shut his mouth. The rest of the crew said nothing, as they were trained to, and went about the frantic business of moving the other aircraft. Foss simply leaned against the main bridge's railing, watching the action flow beneath him.

	A few minutes later, Eve, complete with the newly bestowed call sign of "Scout", walked back out of the hatch just below him. She clutched a green notebook, handing it off to a few purple shirted flight deck operators. Rounding the corner to the right she wordlessly saluted and shook the hand of the mechanic waiting, working fast to check the aircraft for its airworthiness.

	"Fuel?" She asked ducking under a wing to check the aileron and flaps.

	"Fifteen even with the drop tank Ma'am."
	
	Eve frowned. "The board showed two wing mounted tanks, not a single belly mounted."

	"Operations gave us the order about fifteen minutes ago Ma'am."

	She sighed inwardly. Nothing was ever constant on the boat, so why did she expect otherwise? Saluting the sailor one last time, she climbed the ladder and strapped in, letting the canopy shut the noisy carrier deck, and effectively her own mind, out. Everything from here on out was pure muscle memory. Flip a few switches and watch the displays come on. Adjust the brightness so it doesn't hurt your eyes. Make sure all the readings are within limits. Make sure communications are working correctly. Give the thumbs up and wait for the yellow shirts to guide you out of your parking spot.

	Things had been like this, simple and easy, for the last couple of months. No one asked anything of her except what was in her job description, and if it wasn't she found a way to make it seem like it was. She treated every situation with the cold and calculating eye she thought was needed to get her through the situation. Emotion, random as it was, had no place aboard the carrier deck, nor in the cockpit with her.

	"Sonic two one one, you are clear to catapult four."

	"Two One One, cat four, roger." She replied robotically.

	"Weather is forty five knots over the bow, slight over cast. Pressure and barometric readings as follows:"

	Eve copied down what seemed like an endless stream of numbers and entered them into the digital display in front of her while also watching the yellow shirted deck hands guide her forward out of her spot. The display to the right of the heads up display blinked a few times before it lazily corrected its heading to that of the ship. The aircraft, an aging single seat super hornet, had seen better days for sure. The displays had been upgraded hastily and replaced with a flimsy touch screen interface, one which didn't respond as well as anyone had hoped it would. Essentially, most of the cockpit hadn't changed since the original inception of the legacy alpha hornet, and because of that upgrades had been few and far in between.
	
	The super hornet had never been meant to server more then twenty years at the most, with it and the F-15 silent eagles sharing the generation four point five moniker. The super was an "in between" fighter, but say that to any pilot and they'd tell you other wise. It had been the fighter she had first trained on, and because of that there was a certain love. It was like adopting a dog with only two legs. You knew it was still a good dog at heart, and damned if it wasn't the most heart warming thing watching it walk around on its hind legs.
	
	Scout chuckled into her mask as she steered slowly and precisely with her feet. Making sure to keep her eyes locked on the yellow shirts. The flight deck was a busy place during flight operations, with as many as twenty different aircraft leaving the deck during an operation over sea. She had learned real quick to listen to those who had been doing their jobs longer then she had been flying. A yellow shirt held both fists above his head and together like he was holding a metal bar. Tapping on the brakes, she watched as a blast diffuser came up, redirecting the blast from the F-35's massive engine on the catapult. It left the deck in a streak, and as soon as the gear went up at the end of the bow, it pulled up hard, accelerating upward into the thin clouds above.

	"Showoff." She muttered.

	The diffuser lowered and she was able to taxi to the "waist" catapult, a catapult aligned just along the left most edge of the carrier deck. Watching yet another yellow shirt, she taxied forward slowly, sparing only a small glance at the deck disappearing below the nose of the aircraft. It was unsettling watching the ocean waves chop together in the distance. Finally the catapult's track came into view and she taxied forward to the shuttle for the second time this morning. Scout felt the familiar thump as the shuttle made contact with the launch bar, and throttled up when the "Boss" waved two fingers at her. Looking down and checking her displays one more time, went through a robotic-like list of checks. Satisfied she could do everything she could from the cockpit, she gave him one last salute and placed her hands on the grips at the top of the canopy.

	"One more roller coaster ride." She said tightening her stomach muscles.

	Thrust back into her seat, the aircraft accelerated ridiculously fast, and before she could think, it dropped off the end of the carrier deck and accelerated into the sky.

	"Sonic two one one all green, joining Targus one and two on the tanker track."

	"Copy all. Have a good flight."
	Scout closed the comms with the tower and headed upward toward the small blip on the map that said "TNKR TRK 01A". The job she had originally charged with was tanker support for the recovery of the fifteen or so aircraft that had gone up earlier. While she was wrestling with the problematic bird below, another super hornet had replaced her, and now she was simply providing cover and support for the two single seat flying fuel depots.

	Meeting up with the flight lead, lieutenant Hope, she formed slightly off to his left wing, careful to match airspeed. She gave him plenty of room to move about in the sky should he need to.

	"Nice of you to join us lieutenant." He said mockingly.

	"Callsign is Targus three. Scout." She said ignoring him.

	"Targus two copies." The second tanker, holding a loose formation off to their right responded.

	"Ah, the fist magnet talks does he?" Hope shot back.

	"Can it you fucking tackle ass douche box."

	Scout went over the voice in her mind and immediately made the match to the face. "Gabs?"

	There was silence as the other pilot spoke up before the flight lead did.
	"Echo, Scout." He bit back.

	It was Marcus after all.

	"I saw what you did to the that little fucker earlier." Echo laughed into his mask. "My god you have no idea how god damn long I've wanted to just knock that guy out. I figure he'd still be talking if I did though."

	Scout sighed. "It wasn't meant-"

	"Save it. That guy deserved a hell of a lot more then just a comm check. We all heard what he said over the radio. Just, well, you know what? Fuck that guy."

	"As flight lead, I order you to lock it up." Hope nearly screamed.

	Echo simply chuckled. "You order me? Ha! I forgot you and that asshole are buds or something fucked up like that. I fucking out rank you, and Scout is a full Lieutenant."

	"I'm gonna put this in my after action report when we get back!"

	"That's equivalent to "I'm gonna tell on you!". Are you fucking serious man? Really?"

	"Relax. He's right, we shouldn't be chatting like this." Scout said.

	"You're lucky." Echo sneered at the flight lead. "Just go ahead and write your fucking report. I'll let everyone know about when you-"

	"Echo." Scout said evenly.

	"Fine. Two more hours of this and I'll be back in my bunk again anyway."

	The three planes circled for what seemed like an eternity before the first small blip lit up on their radar. It registered for a minute or two before fading off the screen. Radar error's were common, so they shrugged it off, citing the last few months of fruitless patrolling as their guide. The next radar contact had showed up just as the first one, unidentified and heading straight for them at a closing speed of mach two. It too, however, didn't stay but a few seconds, only registering as a floating blip on Scout's radar. It wasn't until the third and final radar contact that she decided to call the circling AWACS to check and see if it registered the random blips.

	"AWACS Solex, this is flight Targus." Scout called out.

	There was a minute pause before the radio crackled to life.

	"Solex, Targus, go ahead."

	"What are you doing?" Hope demanded. "I'm supposed to make the calls."

	Scout ignored him. "Target acquisition heading zero two zero, mach two. Radar contact affirm."

	"Solex disregard. It was just a simple radar malfunction." Hope whined.

	"Solex, Targus, no contacts, sug-"

	There was a crackle of static and a squealing hiss, before the radio went dead.

	"See? I told you it wasn't necessary!"

	"Oh yeah? Well this blinking fucking light says otherwise!" Echo snarled. "Positive contacts and an intermittent SAM lock."

	Checking the radar and setting the small arm to scan intensely in a smaller area, she was rewarded with a small section of four blips, all leaving the AWACS location at high rate of speed, and heading directly for them.

	"AWACS Long Arm, please identify targets, heading one one five."

	No answer.

	"Solid SAM lock and tone, I'm breaking into evasive maneuvers." Echo yelled.

	"YOU WILL STAY WITH ME, IN LOOSE FORMATION ON THIS TRACK LIEUTENANT! I REPEAT YOU WILL STAY WITH ME!" Hope almost shot through the top of the canopy as he screamed at the top of his lungs. He watched helplessly as Echo's bird rolled to the right slightly and began ejecting flares. "This is insubordination and a punishable offense! You will return to formation immediately!"

	It was at this time, that Scout's cockpit also lit up, SAM and several other missile lock and warning tones erupting into her headset. The radar showed the contacts less then ten nautical miles out, which meant the flight of three were in range for missile shots.

	"I've got multiple contacts Targus One, please be advised." She warned.

	"I'll be damned if some fresh bitch tells me what the hell to-"

	Hope didn't finish the next word. Scout had seen the briefest flash of white smoke and fire reach up from underneath the blanket of clouds, moving as if it were nearly frozen in air. The missile headed directly for the oblivious flight leader and kissed the cockpit dead on with its ten foot long body. A massive plume of liquid fire erupted from the front of the stricken aircraft, before the trauma snaked its way lightning fast to the five drop tanks filled to the brim with jet fuel. They ignited, blowing what was left of the frame in all directions. The fighter decelerated fast as its stricken body became less then aerodynamic, eventually spiraling wildly out of control through the clouds, and to the ocean floor below.

	Scout tried hard to avoid the explosion, banking to the left hard, but the engines still ingested a large amount of debris. Warning lights and alarms screamed murder through her helmet until she was able to right the plane again. Calming herself she checked the radar. Unresponsive.

	"Typical." She bit through clenched teeth. "Targus two respond."

	"Here." Echo responded.

	"Status?"

	"Jettisoned the extra shit, think Hope took the missile for me."

	"Don't worry about that right now. Form up on me." She ordered. "We're heading back."

	"Shit, you don't have to tell me twice."

	A second lock light illuminated, before the stick went dead in her hands. Pulling up a diagnostic page, she watched as most of the systems gradually turned red, one after the other. The nose of the super hornet dipped slightly as she fought its dead weight.

	"I've lost hydraulics, Markus, I might have to ditch it here." Scout said, fighting the panic building in her chest. Her heart felt like it was thumping hard enough to beat right out of her chest.

	"Hold on. We'll deal with that if it comes up, lemme take a look." Echo maneuvered his plane underneath and around Scout's, assessing the damage. "You've got a pink slosh of hydraulic fluid down the right side, right over the avionics bays, and... Holy shit!"

	Scout's heart caught in her throat.

	"Eve... You're radar's gone!"

	"I know, it keeps giving me an error."

	"No, I mean its fucking gone! The nose cone isn't there anymore."

	Looking up and over the HUD she saw for the first time how bad the damage was. The nose cone, like Echo had said, was missing completely, and it looked as if the entire radar antenna itself had departed the aircraft save for the gun mounts. The gun itself was sticking oddly part way out of the front, red hydraulic fluid seeping uncontrollably from the cracks along its frame.

	"Just stay close and keep watching. If something like a wing falls off lemme know and I'll see if I can aim it away from any whales."

	Echo didn't laugh. "Was that a joke?"

	"Sort of."

	"Keep your deadpan humor to yourself. If John heard you say that he'd slap the piss out of you."	

	Scout looked out the cockpit and to the right at Echo, he had his mask off to the side and the bulbous helmet camera pulled up. He wasn't smiling and she knew exactly why.

	"I know he'd say some sappy shit like 'Think about the children' or 'Give your extra paper towels to the poor so they can make paper mache houses' or some stupid shit like that. Foss would know his stupid fucking sayings better. But John isn't fucking here anymore."

	Rage. Hatred. Self doubt. Remorse. All emotions now running through Scout, mixing and tumbling through her mind fighting for dominance. Images, spotty incomplete images, flooded her head, swirling in a cloud made of tornadic emotion.

	"I'm not doing this here." She said clearing her head.

	"Well, fucking good then. When we get back I'm reporting your ass for psychological compromise." He said coldly.

	Scout's mind suddenly went blank and her blood ran cold. "You wouldn't..."

	"Oh I wouldn't? Fucking try me. You've been moping around the ship the last eight months like a..." He struggled to find the words. "Like a zombie. I get that you lost someone important, I totally fucking get that, but you're doing this weird shit called apart... Apartmental-"

	"Compartmentalizing?" She finished for him.

	"Fucking yeah. That shit. That's some dangerous shit, and neither me or Foss want to see you go off the deep end like what normally happens to idiots who do the same thing. You're too fucking good for that Eve, too fucking good, and I'll be damned if you try and jump off the carrier deck without me saying something first."

	"Wait- You think I wanna commit suicide?"

	He nodded exasperatingly. "Fuck yeah I do. Foss won't say anything until the last possible minute, but when I don't like what the fuck I'm seeing I don't just turn off the fucking TV."

	Scout simply sunk back in her seat. Sure, she'd been trying to keep to herself, but she had no idea she was sending out so many signals to her friends. And then it dawned on her.

	"I've been an ice bitch over the last couple of months haven't I?"

	"Uber bitch." Echo replied.

	Watching the fuel gauge tick slowly down to below five thousand pounds, Scout jettisoned the belly tank. The stick became a bit lighter in her hands, but only by a small amount. She still had to fight the forward pull with most of her arm strength.

	"Don't think it's just me who thinks this way Scout. The three of us; me, you, and Foss, gotta stick together. We're still considered cannon fodder by the Navy."

	"I'm down to less then five grand of fuel left. We'll finish this on deck." She said with a tone that said "No Exceptions."

#
	They had landed at what looked like a large, runway less airport. There had been a sleek, oblong dark gray vehicle with windows outside the terminal that she had immediately recognized as a type of bus waiting for her at the landing platform. Just like on the ship, eyes followed her everywhere. People gawked and she wished she could just evaporate and be gone. They looked like the rest of the rakkan she had seen, but for some reason these faces struck her as being younger. She didn't know why, there wasn't any distinct feature she saw that looked different. Perhaps it was the way they acted, having more energy and less skilled at hiding their obvious astonishment at seeing her.
    Grenkle followed her onto the bus and sat down next to her. She watched the eyes turn to him and several heads give the comical cock to the side of curiosity as they returned to her. To her relief much of the attention let her as they sat down. Grenkle brought out his curious hand-held and typed out a message in english.

    "Ready?"

    She shook her head, "No, I'm scared shitless."

    The deep growl of his voice made her look up from her lap.

    [How is your growl?] he said in his native tongue.

    [Slow,] she tried to growl back. [I am learning a lot, but there is a lot I still haven't learned.]

    He nodded and gave her a pat on the back, [We're fairly open to outsiders. Try to make a friend or two once you're there and they'll help teach you. About three quarters through you'll get a visitors day. Your dad has already arranged for myself and Bar to be there.]

    [He will not be there?] She looked hurt.

    [He will if he can. The have him on a pretty fast schedule for a few weeks and I don't know if they will let him go for that or not. If not you'll be among good people. He will be there when you finish training, regardless.]

    She looked back at her feet an nodded. The equivalent of twenty earth weeks of training. If it was anything like Earth boot camp that she had heard of (mostly from Matt's stories), it was pure hell too. Could she make it? They were so different both physically and mentally from her, what if-

    She was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. Grenkle was pointing out the window with a claw. 
    [All of us live on the other side of Hendrith Tail, the canyon there. You've never met most of us, and I'm bias, but we're a great clan. Also, the family, er, adopted Kelly... if you could call it that -not like we did you- but whom you'll probably get a long with well. She's a little older than you, and pretty easy going. -A human, too. Well, used to be, so she should be able to relate a little bit. I'll try to remember to pass our address to you after you've started training... er, rather, get out of training.]
    Outside her window a breath taking landscape flew by at an amazing speed. For miles out she could see the top of a snaking canyon, topped by dark green trees and foliage that contrasted the vibrant red and yellow layers of stone that alternated down the walls.
    "It's beautiful," she said in english.

    [You should see what it's like flying through it,] he replied in rakkan.

    They didn't say much after that. She spent most the remaining time gazing out the window and thinking. Where was Matt? Who was Matt? He had adopted her just under five years ago. Until then, life in the foster home had been the norm: Controlling "parents" who ensure those under them got the bare basics while the reaped the profit of the government "aid". Matt had seemed full of life, yet slightly weathered, reminding her of someone who had been far places and done odd things, but was ready to do it again. She loved it when he visited the home. His weird looking old truck and tired clothes were always associated with interesting projects for the kids and other entertainment.
    Rika remembered the day he had rolled up to the foster home pulling a welder with the back of the truck loaded down with metal pieces and parts. She had been sent to sweep the sidewalk after the autumn wind had blown debris all over it, and was just finishing up when the eire noise of his truck pulled in. It was eery in that there was never any engine or motor noise with it, instead it stealthily rolled along with only the occasional groan of the tires or creek of suspension. Or like that day, the rattle of the welder behind it and loose parts in the back.
    They worked late into the night on the go-cart, her foster parents allowing her to stay up past the normally strict bedtime to help. Matt might have had something to do with their relaxing the rules, she realized. She had been to interested in building the go-cart, asking questions and wanting to be shown how it worked and what to do. He had taken a liking to her, and was using the projects as an excuse to spend time and get to know her. Like how he used to tell her stories...
    The stories! She gasped to herself as the realization hit her. The bizarre tales of creeping through the forest, being chased by some unseen foe, of creatures from another world and working as a guide for them on earth...  She glanced up at Grenkle, his eyes were closed and his head was bobbing sleepily, yet his features matched one of the characters in Matt's tall tales exactly. Tall tales that were looking less and less tall as time galloped on... What a strange life to live.
    It was funny how he never told any stories about his life before he met the rakkan. She didn't remember him mentioning it at all over her past five years living with him.

    "Grenkle,"

    "Ergu, uh? Huh?" he blinked sleepily.

    [Who is Matt?]

    [Ah,] he replied, [you know him as well as I do.]

    [I mean his past. I'v heard stories about you and others that I think are probably true, but what do you know about him? And what did he do before you... er, took him?]

    The alien chuckled: his eyes sparkling with a series of short, quiet barks. 

    [To tell you what I know would take longer than we have time for. I'll write you about it. You'll be sure to get lots of letters. Before we got him he was a mechanic in the military on earth. He was a mess, too, like an overfilled ----------.]

	[I didn't catch that last word.]

	[Um, a thing that squeezes air so you can use the squeezed air.]

	She nodded, thinking that he was talking about a shop compressor.

    He offered his PDA and she took it, pressed the right arrow button and the screen started to play a video. It was of the earth, as seen from an aircraft or satellite. Despite it being night the picture was startling clear. The image quickly zoomed in on a coastal town, then an airport. She could make out buildings, and then they grew larger and she could see a group of blotches grow into aircraft parked next to a hanger. The camera continued to zoom in one of the aircraft, an older style jet no longer used, until it focused on a pair of figures working in a hole on top of the aircraft's wing. One of the figures appeared to be holding a flashlight and handing tools to the other, who appeared to be having some difficulty getting to something inside the hole. The way he wiggled his whole body in an attempt to get his hand in a different position was almost comical. He kept stopping too, and looking over his shoulder, as if he felt her watching him. He spoke with his partner after doing this a few times, who shrugged before they both continued what they were doing. A few minutes later it was obvious he was getting frustrated, and then suddenly he stood and threw the wrench down in disgust. The man went to step away, and his feet shot out from underneath him, causing his body to bounce of the fuselage of the aircraft before dumping him unceremoniously on the ground below. This didn't help his mood, and he stood up quickly, smashing his head right into something angular that was hanging below the wing. He threw his helmet into the ground furiously and start yelling at the jet and kicking the tire.
    She didn't know why, but the whole act was hilarious to her. She found she couldn't stop laughing after the airplane had ungracefully committed him to the whims of gravity. Grenkle had been looking over her shoulder and was doing his own strange chuckle.

    [That's him?]

    He grinned and nodded, [the man himself.]

    [This his hilarious! Where did you find this?]

    [The internet,] he said, [Our internet.]

    [Are there more?]

    He nodded, [If you don't tell him I'll show you. Oops--Later though, we're there.]

    She could see a gate ahead, guarding what looked like a low building and a huge expanse of wilderness surrounded by a very tall fence. Three rakkan wearing military uniforms stood at the gate. One of them was a dark gray like Grenkle's and she could see that he was armed with not only a side stunner like Grenkle's, but a longer, rifle-esq arm that he carried slung in front of him.  The other two wore similar uniforms, but wore a thick green bar on each shoulder, were unarmed, and looked extremely unhappy.

    Grenkle stood. [Well, here's where I leave you.]

    She smiled nervously up at him. [T-thank-you,] she stammered.

    He smiled. "Sink or swim, and good 'uck," he growled in the first english she had heard him use, then turned and stepped off the shuttle.

#
	"Blood Two One One, three nautical miles, hook down, flaps full. Call the ball."

	The Landing Signal Officer, or LSO called. The dim Fresnel lens mounted just to the left of the recovery area of the carrier deck, suddenly brightened, the "ball" as it was, floating just above the green horizontal bar of lights. The small landing strip seemed infinitely smaller from six hundred feet in the air at distance.

	"I have the ball," She replied.

	"Little less power."

	She complied wordlessly, struggling to fight the aircraft's entire weight on the stick, while maintaining a steady airspeed just above stalling. It felt like riding a lead brick. Looking off to her left, she smiled as Echo maintained a steady flight off her wing. The ball dropped underneath the line just a little, and she corrected instinctively.

	"One thousand feet." Echo called. "Nine hundred."

	"Little more power."

	"Eight hundred feet."

	The stick was beginning to shudder in her hands for some reason, fighting her grip on it.

	"Seven hundred."

	"On glide path."

	"Six hundred. Five hundred. Four hundred."

	"Power. Power. More power." The LSO demanded.

	The Ships deck started to rise up to meet her abnormally fast, almost like it was an elevator making for the top floor. Then, the entire ship suddenly swayed to the left.

	"POWER POWER POWER! WAVE OFF! WAVE OFF!"

	Training took over. Selecting full afterburner and putting the tailhook up, she used both hands to pull back on the stick waiting for the familiar bleep and deedle deedle of an angle of attack alarm. Only, it never came. Things seemed to move in slow motion as the right engine fire light illuminated, and she finally lost all response from the aircraft. It yawed uncontrollably to the right, nosing over until Scout was looking directly up through the canopy at the ocean. Ejecting now would mean she'd be rocketed out of her seat into the pounding surf, and almost certainly to her death.

	She could hear the muffled screams of the signaling officers, probably telling her to eject, and Echo's voice screaming nonsensically over the comms. She'd heard impacts like these usually killed the pilot immediately, but no one was really sure.

	"What a great way to find out for myself." She mused as the black water hurtled at her.
	
***

	Foss watched from the commanders bridge as the two hornets approached, noticing immediately the extent of the damage to the plane trying desperately to maintain flight. The nose cone was missing, and it looked as if it had torn away a large part of the nose with it, the gun barrels sticking out part way. What the hell had happened up there?

The taxi light mounted to the nose gear flickered brightly for a moment, before a bright orange fireball shot out of the right engine. There was a moment when it looked like the pilot was in control, it looked as if the plane was hovering in mid air as it nosed up and matched airspeed with the moving carrier. Then, just as the left engine lit off its after burner, it cut out, leaving the air unusually silent. The fighter nosed off to its right just behind the ship rolling over almost completely. It was then that he saw the numbers emblazoned on the side.

	"Two One One..." He trailed off.

His heart rising into throat, Foss could do nothing but watch as the hornet dove into the sea, the crash obscured by the rest of the fantail at the stern. The super hornet following went to max afterburner and rose slowly straight up into the air. Seconds later, the ships droning alarm drew all member of crew to the aft end of the deck, each search desperately for the primary indicator of life. The parachute.
"All hands clear the deck, recovery of three aircraft imminent. All hands clear the deck." The loudspeaker urged heartlessly.

It seemed as though the call had reached deaf ears at first, before senior personnel ushered the shocked and much younger deck hands off the landing area. Not more then a minute later, the trailing super hornet caught the wire, the pilot pulling into his parking spot and jumping out, almost ripping his oxygen mask as he jumped from the jet without the ladder. Foss finally saw it was Marcus, and decided now was a better time then any to head down to the flight deck.

#
    She didn't know what Grenkle's rank was, nor that of the angry looking rakkan with the green shoulders, but she saw them look up when he got off. He spoke a few words, they nodded and said something in acknowledgment before he walked into the guard house.
    The guard waved the shuttle through the gate, and she saw him close the gate behind them as they pulled through. The shuttle stopped immediately again. The doors opened again, and Rika sank in her seat, as if her body already knew what to expect. A mean, angry muzzle popped through the door. It's eyes scanned the entire bus, as if looking for easy prey. She could envision smoke coming out of his nostrils and him preying for any excuse to wail the living hell out of any one of them.
    [FROM NOW ON, YOU WILL NOT SPEAK UNLESS SPOKEN TO!] snarled the drill instructor, [YOU WILL RESPOND TO EVERY THING YOU ARE TOLD WITH EITHER YES OR NO, AND YOU WILL FINISH EVERY SENTENCE IN SIR! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?]

    The shuttle gave a dishearten yell, [Yes Sir!]

    [WHAT? THAT'S NOT ---------- LOUD ENOUGH!! YOU WILL GIVE EVERYTHING YOUR ABSOLUTE MAXIMUM EFFORT. AGAIN, DO YOU ---------- UNDERSTAND ME?]

    The shuttle responded louder, Rika's throat in pain trying to make the unfamiliar noises so loudly.

    [YES SIR!]

    [YOU ------- SUCK! LOUDER ------!!]

    [YES SIR!!] Shit! She was beginning to go horse already!

    [YOU WILL OBEY ANY AND ALL LAWFUL ORDERS GIVEN TO YOU BY ANYONE ABOVE YOUR RANK, WHICH IS PRETTY ---------- MUCH EVERYONE HERE.]

    He paused, and the bus didn't wait around to see if they should respond or not. Rika yelled as hard as she could, though doubted she was making much noise anymore.

    [YES SIR!!]
    
    [YOU WILL MAINTAIN ONE ARM'S DISTANCE FROM ALL INSTRUCTORS. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?]

    [YES SIR!]

    [ARE THERE ANY QUESTIONS?]

    [NO SIR!]
    [HOW THE ---------- AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW IF THERE ARE QUESTIONS IF I CAN'T HEAR THEM? GET OFF MY --------- -----------  BUS!]

    [YES SIR!]

    [WHY THE ------ AREN'T YOU MOVING YET ----------- IT?! MOVE!!!!]

    Rika launched herself off the seat and towards the door, flying past several other rakkan and bolting out the door past the demon on the bus. The other CI was waiting for them.

    [GET ON MY FOOTPRINTS!]

    There were a large number of red footprints on the ground, in rank and file. She scrambled to stand on them with the other recruits.

    [FROM NOW UNTIL YOU LEAVE MY CAMP, YOU WILL SPEAK ONLY IN THIRD PERSON, AND YOU WILL REFER TO YOURSELF AND YOUR FELLOW RECRUITS AS 'RECRUIT' AND THEIR LAST NAME. EVERYONE ELSE YOU WILL REFER TO AS DRILL INSTRUCTOR, THEIR RANK AND THEIR LAST NAME. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?]

    [YES SIR!] Rika started to panic inside. She was horrible at rakkan, and could barely speak first person. The instructors must have known, because the tan furred demon from the bus appeared in between her and the recruit in front of her and snarled down in her face.

    [YOU ------  AT SPEAKING, DON'T YOU?]

    [YES SIR!] Yelling hurt like hell, but she didn't dare drop her volume.

    [---------- HUMAN, CAN YOU EVEN READ?!]

    [NO SIR! NOT RAKKAN SIR!]

    [NOT RAKKAN?! WELL --------- GUESS WHAT? HERE THERE IS NO OTHER -------- LANGUAGE!]

    [YES SIR!]

    There was some chittering behind her at her high pitched yelling. The gray furred instructor appeared there immediately, snarling and growling.

    [WHAT THE ------  IS SO --------- FUNNY?!]

    The chittering was silenced. The tan demon didn't even look up from staring her.

    [IGNORANT -------!] He looked up from her, [WHO WANTS TO TEACH THIS WORTHLESS TRASH HOW TO ---------- TALK?]

    There was a voice that came from behind her. She couldn't tell if it was male or female from the sound of it. To her both sounded the same.

    [THIS RECRUIT WILL SIR!]

    [WHO THE -------- IS THAT?]

    [RECRUIT BOCCAR SIR!]

    [GET OVER HERE!]

    [YES SIR!]

    There were footsteps behind her and a short rakkan, maybe as tall as herself if only a little taller, popped up next to her. Rika could only catch the figure out of the corner of her eye, and she fought the urge to look.

    [DO YOU SEE THIS WORTHLESS CREATURE?]

    [YES SIR!] The rakkan next to her screamed.

    [YOU, FLAT-FACE!] The instructor shouted, in reference to Rika.

    [YES SIR!] Rika shouted.

    [LOOK! DO YOU SEE THIS RECRUIT?]

    Rika looked. The other recruit was actually very close to her height, and covered in black fur with the exception of a red blaze that ran from it's nose to just above it's dark blue eyes, and a patch of light grey fur that went from the bottom of it's throat to where it disappeared beneath a reddish brown shirt. But the look was a very quick one. She didn't bother wasting time-

    [YES SIR!] she screamed.

    [GOOD! SHE'S TAKEN THE UNGODLY TASK OF TEACHING YOU WHAT A CHILD KNOWS. YOU WILL LEARN FROM HER, AND YOU WILL LEARN FAST! BECAUSE EVERY -------- TIME YOU CAN'T SPEAK RIGHT YOU WILL FEEL PAIN! RECRUIT  BOCCAR!]

    [YES SIR!]

    [YOU WILL TEACH THIS RECRUIT AT EVERY ------------- OPPORTUNITY YOU GET AND YOU WILL TEACH HER AFTER LIGHTS OUT EVERY NIGHT! I HAD BETTER NOT SEE YOU TWO APART UNTIL SHE CAN SPEAK LIKE A ---------- ----------- AND READ AND WRITE A -------- NOVEL! I WANT PEOPLE TO THINK YOU ARE JOINED AT THE HIP! IF SHE IS PUNISHED, YOU WILL BE TOO! IF YOU GET PUNISHED, SHE WILL FOLLOW! DO YOU ---------- UNDERSTAND ME!?]

    [YES SIR!]

    [GET THE -------- BACK WHERE YOU WERE!]

    [YES SIR!]

    The black-furred rakkan disappeared from her side. Rika snapped back to looking straight in front of her, aware that the drill instructor was still staring at her.

    [THIS IS CALLED A FORMATION! THE ROWS ARE SQUADS, AND THE COLUMNS ARE RANKS! REMEMBER HOW FAR AWAY YOU ARE FROM THE RECRUIT IN FRONT OF AND NEXT TO YOU, BECAUSE WHEN YOU ARE GIVEN THE COMMAND TO FALL IN, THIS IS HOW YOU WILL STAND! DO YOU ---------- UNDERSTAND?]

    [YES SIR!]

    [OUT --------- STANDING! FACE TO YOUR RIGHT!]

    Rika did her best to imitate the right-face she had seen in movies and her dad do a few times while goofing around. There was an explosion of laughter from her left -one of the drill instructors had moved up and stood there without her knowing.

    [WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? YOU LOOK LIKE A -------------- WITH A BROKEN LEG! IS THAT HOW YOUR KIND TURNS FLAT-FACE?]

    [NO SIR!]

    The CI stepped in front of her, his ears flicking in what Rika was learning as the rakkan expression of amusement. He lowered his voice, and it made her shiver, wishing he was yelling.

    [You are going to be so much fun to toy with. It is going to be great! You'll want to kill yourself if the training doesn't do it for you!]

    The other instructor had opened a door at the end of the low building and shouted back at the platoon.

    [FILE IT OFF, FIRST SQUAD THROUGH FOURTH RIGHT NOW! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE! YOU'D BETTER BE ------- SPRINTING!]

    The second instructor quickly stepped to the side of the formation, and began screaming at the other recruits to run faster, much to her relief.

    After they had sprinted into the building, down a series of hallways, into a small auditorium, been screamed at for sitting down without being told, standing up, sitting down again, being told to stand again and screamed at for not sitting down fast enough, sitting again, standing once more because someone didn't move as fast as everyone else and sat for a final time, a handful of rakkan not in uniformed filed in behind a cart stacked with brown folders and began walking around, calling out names among the chaos and handing out the folders to every one.

    Rika barked as her name was called in a heavy rakkan accent. The clerk who had called her walked briskly over and dropped a plain brown folder with a remarkably boring sheet of paper glued to the cover. Rika looked down at the strange symbols and weird lines on the paper and felt the panic rise in her chest. These were forms, and she had no hope in reading them, let alone filling them out.

    [RECRUIT BOKKAR! WHY THE --------- ARN'T YOU NEXT TO RECRUIT FLAT-FACE?]

    The tan demon was standing in front of her, staring down at her with almost a snarl. She could hear the short recruit stand on the other side of the auditorium.

    [THIS RECRUIT DIDN'T SEE-]

    [DIDN'T SEE THE HAIRLESS, PALE, FOUL SMELLING TURD IN THIS PUNCH BOWL? DIDN'T SEE AN OPEN SEAT NEXT TO HER? NOT A --------- EXCUSE! GET OVER HERE!]

    [YES SIR!]

    There was a blurr that when it stopped moving became the black rakkan with the red blaze from before standing at attention facing the drill instructor.

    [RECRUIT BOKKAR REPORTING AS ORDERED SIR!]

    [YOU WERE GIVEN AN ORDER RECRUIT! YOU HAD BETTER -------- FOLLOW IT! WHAT ABOUT FLAT FACE? -------- HER, RIGHT?]
    [NO SIR!]

    [WELL THAT'S NOT WHAT YOUR TELLING HER! SHE'S AN ILLITERATE IDIOT, AND WE HAVE PAPERS TO DO, BUT YOU ARE ACROSS THE---------- -------- ROOM. YOU CAN READ, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU CARE? ISN'T THAT RIGHT?]

    [NO SIR!]

    [------! WHAT ABOUT IN COMBAT?! ARE YOU GOING TO LOOK OUT FOR YOUR FELLOW, OR ARE YOU GOING TO ONLY CARE OF NUMBER ONE? YOU DISGUST ME, RECRUIT BOKKAR! I WILL MAKE YOU PAY WHEN THIS IS DONE, AND FLAT FACE WILL BE WITH YOU, SINCE YOU JUST KILLED HER!]

    [YES SIR!]

    [SIT!]

    [YES SIR!]

    She moved to sit in the seat to Rika's left, but the reddish furred rakkan that occupied it remained frozen, staring in fear up at the drill instructor. The CI glared down for a few seconds that seemed to last for eons, then he exploded.

    [WELL?! MOVE YOU -------- BUTT HUFFER!]

    The rakken tore out of the seat and down the row. Recruit Bokkar scrambled to get in the seat as soon as they were gone. Rika could see her struggling to keep her ears from folding back out of the corner of here eye -she didn't dare look that way directly with the DI standing there.

    [RECRUIT FLAT FACE, GRAB HER HAND!]

    Rika looked over, and saw that the black rakkan had lost the battle with her ears. They were plastered back along her head, combined with her wide eyes giving the impression of a scared dog. Her arm was hanging limply by her side, and Rika could see her nervousness increase when she moved to take it.
    Her hand was cool and damp with sweat from fear. Rika felt it tense as she wrapped her fingers around it. Recruit Bokkar was clearly afraid of her. Why then had she volunteered?
 
    [Awwww,] mocked the DI, his ears flicking once in amusement,  [how sweet.]

    [NOW,] he yelled, returning to his normal tone, [YOU TWO LOVERS WILL HOLD HANDS UNTIL MYSELF OR INSTRUCTOR MERRMAK TELL YOU OTHERWISE, UNDERSTAND?]

    [YES SIR!] they replied in chorus.
    
    [FAN --------- TASTIC! AND YOU, YOU'D BETTER NOT --------- HER PAPER WORK AWAY!]

    [YES SIR!] screamed Bokkar, hoarseness in her voice becoming evident.

    The CI's screamed a few more threats at the recruits aimed at making them behave before they quietly slipped out of the room.
    Rika's attention turned to the civilian rakkan that were still calling out names and handing out the last of the folders on the cart. The rakkan next to her was shaking, he hand quivering in hers. Rika looked over and saw that she was obviously distressed, staring at the desk mounted to the arm of the seat with the same scared look from moments before.
    Rika gave her hand a gently squeeze to get her attention. The rakkan jerked up and stared at her with a terrified look.

    Geeze, she though, the poor thing is strung tighter than a bow string.

    Rika tried her best to give her a warm smile, being careful not to show any teeth.

    "Ehy," she said in a low voice, [Relax, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm terrified of all of this too.]

    The rakkan seemed to relax slightly. Her shaking lessened, though she still looked afraid. Rika waited a few seconds for an answer before trying again.

    [Thank-you for, uh, coming out to help me.]

    [Coming out... you mean _________?.]

    Rika nodded. She could see her fight to compose herself.

    [I am sorry,] the rakkan said slowly, [I am very afraid of you.]

    [Then why did you volunteer?]

    [I want to have courage for the training. The only way to do that is to face your fears. I also thought it would impress the instructors.]

    Rika nodded, [I might look scary and furless and flat faced and smell funny, but I think I have a lot more to fear from you than you from me. My name is Rika.]

    [Gamun.]

    Rika shook the hand that she was already holding, [Good to meet you.]

    [QUIET] yelled one of the clerks at them, [OR I'LL BRING THE COMBAT INSTRUCTORS BACK IN HERE!]

    [YES SIR!] shouted Rika.

    [Pay attention,] he continued to the platoon in an irritated tone, [I'm only going to go through this once.]

    The clerk went on to tell them how to fill out the forms, step by step. When it came to listing three jobs and three preferred units Bokkar asked Rika what she wanted. Rika didn't even have a clue what the work possibilities were, let alone what units existed.

    [I don't know, just give me something interesting.]

    Bokkar wrote three things down for each, but didn't explain what she wrote. Rika had made a mental note to ask her to explain latter, but that had long been forgotten in the chaos of the next few days.
    After the forms had been filled out and collected the CI's seemed to appear back in the room again, along with chaos. There was more screaming and yelling, running down hallways, down a ramp into what looked like a tunnel, and down another hall where they were made to line against the wall, crammed crotch to tail. The line inched forward towards a door where the recruits were issued a grey uniform like that of the drill instructors, only with a bright orange shoulder bar instead of dark green. They were also given a water bladder, a utility belt, what she guessed was a hygiene kit (It had a wire fur brush, what she guessed was a claw trimmer, a tube of a past-like substance and a toothbrush), and a pair of dark grey boots. Then it was off to a sprint again, down another hall as she struggled to hold everything in one hand and maintain her sweaty grip with Bokkar's hand. The were shunted into another room that was empty with the exception of rows of plain, empty tables. There they were told to fill in and stand behind the tables and drop their issued gear on the floor.
    There was more yelling, screaming and chaos as recruits were scrutinized, picked on, and toyed with like a cat plays with a mouse. They were made to empty everything out of their pockets, and then to strip. Rika pulled the book Matt had handed her the night she had left earth and placed it on the table along with two pens.
    Bokkar had pulled out a scrap of paper with writing on it, a blue money stick, and one of the rakkan's strange hand-held computers, this one was tiny though -about the size of her thumb.
    They stared at each other uneasily.

    [Now for the awkward part,] muttered Bokkar.

    Rika took a deep breath and bent over, using Bokkar's hand for support as she untied her shoes and pulled the off with her free hand. Then she pulled off her socks, stuffed them in her shoes and stood up to set everything on the table.

    Bokkar's eyes were affixed to her feet. [How the heck do you walk?] she whispered.

    Rika just shrugged and began hurriedly undoing her belt and pants, all to aware that Bokkar was watching her every move with curiosity. She pushed her pants and underwear to her ankles and stepped out of them, picking them up and putting them on the table as she stood up.
    Bokkar looked the newly exposed parts of her up and down with awe.

    [You really don't have any fur on you anywhere, do you?]

    [Just down here and my head,] whispered Rika, getting ever more uncomfortable, [your turn.]

    Bokkar's eyes got wide as she realized her exposed fate was the same. Quickly she undid the latches on her boots and pulled them off, then pushed down her pants before dumping everything on the table.

    It was the same thick fur that she had everywhere else.

    Why do they bother wearing clothes? wondered Rika. It was as if Bokkar was just as clothed as she was before- nothing could be seen except a patch of the same greyish-red fur she had on her neck that ran from under he shirt on her belly down between her hips and ending just above where Rika guessed her crotch should be.

    A drill instructor walked down their row of tables, searching through every recruits clothing and belongings. They would separate them into two piles, one to keep, and one to put in a box, which he gave them. Almost everything went in the box, including the clothes.

    When he came to Bokkar and Rika he stopped and stared at them.
    [Break hands]

    [YES SIR!] they yelled.

    [Take off your shirts.]

    [YES SIR!] They scrambled to tear their shirts off and dump them on the table. The drill instructor seemed dumbfounded by Rika's bra.

    [What the ------- is that? You humans wear too many ----- clothes. Off with it.]

    Rika scrambled to remove it and dropped it on her table. She wanted to curl up in a corner and hide, but forced herself to stand in the cold air, suddenly wishing she had thick fur like that which covered Bokkar.

    Their belonging's were searched, separated, and boxed. Rika was allowed to keep the book and her pens. Bokkar was allowed her scrap of paper and her money stick. They listed everything on a piece of paper which was placed in the box, the containers were sealed, and they were told to get dressed in the uniform as other drill instructors collected the boxes and carted them off through a back door in the room.
    The drill instructor had begun to walk away when he stopped and turned back, his ears flicking in amusement.

    [Oh, and when your done... I'd better see you spouses hold hands again.]

    The suit wasn't even close to fitting Rika.  It was far to small in some places, and sagged in others. There was a sleeve down the inside of the left leg that Rika guessed was for a tail, along with a hole above her butt that was low enough to leave her feeling slightly exposed. The suit looked like it was missing a zipper. Rika had seen Grenkle put his on before though, so she closed the suit by touching the two sides together. The material stuck, alined its self and sealed seamlessly together. The only evidence left being the small hole on the suit's collar that would undo the process. The belt fastened much the same way
    She glanced over at Bokkar to see if she was done, and noticed that she had opted to stick her tail through the hole. Rika wondered just how uncomfortable the tail sleeve was -it didn't look like something that could be pleasant for any length of time.
    
    [My feet won't fit in these boots, it's like you guys walk on your toes or something. There is no way I can wear these. What should I do?]

    [I don't know, just put the rest of your stuff in them and carry them,] replied Bokkar.

    Rika nodded, stuffing the bladder and her book into them before holding them out to Bokkar.

    [Put your stuff in them. We don't have pockets.

    [TIME"S UP, GET OUT!] screamed the grey furred CI from the bus as he burst back through the door.

    Bokkar nodded, dumping her belongings into one of the boots before snatching Rikas hand again and bolting for the door.

    [RECRUIT FLAT FACE!]

    Rika and Bokkar stopped and faced the tan furred drill instructor they had just passed.

    [YES SIR!] she screamed.

    [WHY THE -------- ARE YOU NOT WEARING YOUR ------ BOOTS?!]

    [THEY WON'T FIT ON THIS RECRUIT'S FEET SIR!]

    The CI stared at her bare feet, then at the boots.

    [I HOPE BY GOING BAREFOOT YOU'LL LEARN HOW TO ACTUALLY WALK INSTEAD OF SLAMMING YOUR FEET AROUND LIKE A LAZY SHAVED MONKEY! CARRY ON!]

    [CARRY ON, AYE SIR!] screamed Rika, racing Bokkar to catch up with the rest of the platoon.
    
    They ran back through the halls, back up the ramp and outside. It was dark when they left the building, and the two CI's from when the bus pulled in screamed at them to get in formation. Then the started off at a break neck walking pace down the road away from the gate.
    They rounded a bend in the road and what looked like a small town came into view. There were a number of two story buildings that all looked the same on one side of the road, and a mix-match number of other buildings on the other. They continued the pace down the road, passing recruits doing exercises as fast as they could while DI's screamed a them.
    They were passed by a platoon running. They appeared to be barely working, their pace even and fluid, but they flew by at a pace that amazed her. She couldn't even run that fast if she was in peak shape and trained to race! Even at their fast walk, the platoon blew by them as if they were going backwards.
    They walked past a platoon marching in the opposite direction. Rika was amazed at how proud they looked. They stood tall, looked focused, and appeared to be almost one body. Their instructor was calling cadence as they marched, the platoon occasionally replying back, answering with one voice.
    Then they passed another platoon marching, this one clearly a lot newer than the other. They were all slightly out of step, and looked timid. They're alignment with each other was off person to person. When they called back it was just with noise, there was no single voice of the platoon.

    The CI made a sharp left, and lead the platoon to a door in one of the buildings. He stopped abruptly, causing the platoon to almost trip over it's self as people stopped suddenly and frantically tried to fix their position in the ranks.

    [FREEZE]

    No one dared to move a muscle.

    [DID I TELL YOU TO FUCKING ALINE?! DID I SAY TO ------- MOVE?!]

    The platoon answered back with noise, though Rika knew they were all screaming the same thing.

    [NO SIR!!] she yelled so hard her throat hurt.

    [THEN YOU WORTHLESS SACKS OF ------- WILL  NOT ------ MOVE, OR SO HELP ME I WILL SNAP YOUR TAIL LIKE A -------- ---------- AND -------- YOUR --------!! DO YOU -------- UNDERSTAND?!]

    [YES SIR!] Rika screamed. Her voice was giving out again already, and she hoped to whatever God there was that wouldn't be a problem.

    [WHEN YOU GET INSIDE, YOU WILL FILL IT IN ON THE LINE, TWO PER BUNK, FRONT OF MY SQUAD BAY TO THE BACK, HEELS AGAINST THE LOCKER. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?]

    [YES SIR!]

    [FILE IT OFF FROM THE LEFT, from the left AND ------ MOVE IT! March!]

    Three rows of bunk beds ran down the length of the squad bay, evenly spaced and aligned with each other. A red line ran down the inside of the two outboard rows of bunks and on one side of the center. They filed it in, squad by squad, with Bokkar running in front of Rika. Inside the DI's made them move until they shared the same bunk bed towards the back.

    [TAKE A GOOD LOOK AT WHERE THE -------- YOU ARE, AND REMEMBER IT. THAT IS THE PLACE YOU WILL STAND AT ATTENTION WHEN YOU ARE TOLD TO GET ONLINE. IF YOU ARE STANDING TO THE BACK OF MY SQUAD BAY YOU WILL BE SLEEPING ON THE BOTTOM BUNK, YOU TO THE FORWARD OF MY SQUAD BAY YOU WILL BE SLEEPING ON THE TOP, UNLESS YOU ARE RECRUIT BOKKAR OR RECRUIT BENDRIN: YOU TWO LOVERS WILL BE HOLDING HANDS UNTILL THE DAY YOU LEAVE MY STATION!]
    
	Rika groaned inwardly. She had always thought descriptions of bootcamp were exaggerations, but this was looking more and more like "hell" really was adequate.
#
	"Try and keep up Evelyn!" A young man called through the open visor of a motorcycle helmet.

	The sky was dark, but the streetlamps kept the winding turns and shallow bends mostly visible. The road was built into side of a cliff, so that anyone travelling down would only have to look off to their left at the desert and city in the distance. It was breathtaking to look at during the day time, but at night it held a totally different appeal. One that could just suck you in.

	"Not if I can help it Johnny boy!" She called back.

	They both kicked up their motorcycle stands at the same time easing forward and opening up the throttle as the tires left the dirt covered rest area. He would take the lead like he always would, and she would pass him on the nearest corner. They would trade spots until the midway point of the hill, and then just ride side by side until they hit the bottom. It was the way they always blew off steam, and a way for them to spend time together away from their noisy jobs.

	"Define irony." Eve muttered as she pulled the throttle grip back, letting the GSX-R's one thousand cc's push her down the road in an ear rattling roar.

	John had promised to find some way to cheer her up, after the little debacle that had earned her call sign was finally made "public" among the other pilots. After a lot of brainstorming, some fighting, and some tender making up, they dropped Caroline off with their grandma-like neighbor Miss Petruci, and headed out for a night of riding.

	"I wanted to do something special, but this seemed like the only thing that I've ever seen you enjoy other then a book or watching our daughter." He had pleaded his case. It was an after thought now however, as she sped down the winding curves in bliss.

	He would overtake, she would take back. It was an adrenaline rush of speed, danger, and really a sort of a strange disconnected intimacy that only they seemed to understand. Left long curve that morphs slowly into a slight dip, followed by a sharp right around a haripin. Speed up again at the apex and pass him one more time until the straight away ends, then ride the gentle curves side by side down the mountain, watching each other the rest of the way.

	She could remember the noise and feel of the engine humming away beneath her, the riding leathers forming a protective barrier against her skin and the off hand chance that she would make contact with the road. She even thought she could smell the slight fragrance of cologne that John wore. He'd never put too much on, but just enough so that she could tell he was wearing it. Just a small detail in a long list they'd shared with each other.

	Pulling up next to him, they exchanged their customary high five and prepared for the much slower travel down. A flight left here, a much sharper right there - it was all driven into their memory from countless rides before. A few more turns, and ride the hill the rest of the way down until the road meets the highway. A speed limit sign passed them, and they slowed to obey it, falling one in front of the other, then back as they passed a bicyclist. It would be smooth sailing now.

	It seemed funny now that the only words she could mutter at the time were: "OH SHIT!", but after seeing the small van skid uncontrolled into their lane, it was as if her body, mouth included, had switched to autopilot. It would be useless to lean back and put your hands in front of your face, but she did it. There wasn't much else to remember after that. Just a screech and a sudden transition to black. It was like the movies she had seen, where a character is knocked unconscious, only here, you could never hear what really knocked you out.

	Never.

	The memory always seemed to stop there, sparing her of the truly awful reality behind it. It had been both a curse and a blessing, but mostly a curse, as the memory usually manifested itself during times when she needed it the least.

	A cold wetness licked at her face as she ventured through the blackness of what could only be dream sleep. It seemed to move downward until she could only speculate upon one conclusion.

	"I wet the bed."

	Opening her eyes, she was surprised to find everything but what was in her room as a child. The cockpit, still intact was flooding ever so slowly with water, and she was now up to her chest in it. She could see daylight outside. Unfastening her straps, she grunted as a she struggled to remove a leg harness. Looking around the cockpit, she looked for anything still functional.

	"Can't blow the seat out." She said quickly. The canopy would only be slowed by the water's resistance, which probably meant if she chose to eject at that point, she'd hit he glass surface. "Only option. Blow canopy, swim up." However far "up" was. She could faintly hear through her helmet the sound of the super hornet's body creaking as it tumbled slowly through the murky water. Acting quickly, Scout grabbed the yellow and black striped handle mounted to the left of the hud. Pulling back, she was rewarded with what sounded like a shotgun being discharged next to her ear, followed by a loud hiss as the rocket motors struggled to remove the canopy from its frame.

	Taking one last deep breath she let the frigid sea water engulf her body. Her float coat finally expanded under the contact with sea water, and almost instant started propelling her to the surface with its buoyancy. Slowly, ever so slowly, she kicked and chopped at the water trying hard to reach the reflection at the oceans surface. It seemed like an eternity before she broke the water, gasping a lungful of fresh air as she came up.

	There, waiting for her in a very low hover, was the aging frame of an SH-60 Sea Hawk. A rescue diver mounted at the open door dropped in and swam over, rolling Scout on her back and one arm stroking back to the drop zone. Before she knew it, she was traveling sky ward on a hook with the same diver, and almost thrown into the chopper. The diver, a young man she noticed, started removing unessential gear from her vest.

	"Can you feel it when I do this?" he yelled over the cabin noise.

	Scout squirmed as he poked sharp tool into her leg. He took her vitals quickly and efficiently, not sparing a moment for anything but diagnostic work.

	"She's conscious and aware," He said yelling to the crew chief. The swimmer looked back at Scout with a compassionate eye. "You might have a concussion okay?" Scout nodded back. "Gimme a run down of whatever hurts, wherever. I don't care if its a pin prick or a level ten ouch, I just need to know what's wrong."

	"Everything except my head is good. Headache, but that's it."

	"That's good! We'll be aboard in a minute or two, so just relax."

	She gave him a thumbs up and laid her head back down on the Helicopters floor.

	"You're lucky you know." The diver began again. "You're about the only pilot I've ever seen survive a non-ejection water impact with little less then a headache." he said with a smile.

	She could only smile for some reason.

	A few seconds later the helicopter landed on the carrier deck, a frenzy of medics personnel and pilots there to greet her with wide eyes as she walked slowly to the island's door.

	"Hey, hold on a god damn second! Lemme through!"

	Scout looked up to see Echo pushing his way into the crowd around her. 	

	"How many fucking lives do you have catwoman?" He asked taking a deep breath. "I thought for sure you were..."

	Foss grabbed his arm and gave him a stern look, letting him go as he pushed Scout through the door. Looking back, Foss gave him a strange look.

	"Are you coming?"

	Echo shook himself. "Damn right." 

Chapter Five
Chapter 4

   Rika sighed and set her PDA down, glancing at the troubleshooting tree on the display one last time. She did NOT like where this gripe was going. Grabbing a tool from her box she set about unlatching the grip pad from the floor the crew quarters. It was an almost tacky carpet-like material to prevent crew from sliding during the unexpectant accelerations Farrom interceptors frequently experience. 
	She reached the last fastener in the far corner and sighed. It was encrusted with crud; likely a forgotten split beverage (or something far less savory) that had dried to sticky and collected dirt, dust, and shed fur. When she had checked into the training squadron a year ago it would have disgusted her, but now it was just an annoyance that slowed her down. She set the square latch tool down and set about digging the crud out with a claw.
	A claw she didn't have a little over a year ago. In fact, she mused, a year and a half ago she was unrecognizable from what she looked like now. Yet she remembered leaving that identity as if it happened yesterday. The hairless, human form that had branded her callsign that she bore even now as a corporal...

	[RECRUIT FLAT FACE!] yelled Platoon Sergeant Whosp.

    Rika sprinted to the quarter deck, racing Bokkan, [RECRUIT BENDRIN REPORTING AS ORDERED SIR!]

    "Report to medical with Squad Sergeant Milam!"

    "YES SIR!"

    Bokkan let go of her hand as Rika ran to where the Squad sergeant was waiting by the door.

    "RECRUITS BOKKAN AND FLAT FACE, DID I SAY YOU COULD LET GO?!"

    Rika froze, mentally cursing. She turned as Bokkan sprinted towards her.

    "NO SIR!" they screamed in unison.

    "YOU'LL BE FEELING PAIN WHEN YOU GET BACK!"

    "YES SIR!"

    Bokkan snatched Rika's hand again as she slid trying to stop herself before running into the wall.

    Ssgt Milam took of at a break neck walk again, crossing the road and into a maze of roads and trails that intertwined the mix-match collection of structures on the opposite side. Eventually they arrived at a large dome and the Squad Sergeant plowed through the door, not breaking his pace. The inside looked exactly like what Rika imagined an alien doctor's office would look like. There were rows of chairs, a reception desk manned by a rather disgruntled looking rakkan wearing a grey uniform similar to her own but without the orange bars, and that it fit him.
    The drill instructor didn't stop. He didn't go to the desk, or even hesitate. Instead he flew down one of the hallways to the left of the reception desk, Bokkar and Rika almost running behind him. The hall looked like any other hall in a doctor's office, with doors off to either side, some open to exam rooms, others closed. He suddenly stopped at an open door, and Rika and Bokkar lined up behind him against the wall. He entered, muttered a few words to someone in the room they couldn't hear. Then stepped back from the doorway.
    A tall rakkan with red bars on his uniform poked his head out the door. He had immaculate white fur, with the exception of black tips on his ears.

    [Ah yes, the human.] His eyes moved to Bokkar, [who the heck are you?]

    [RECRUIT BOKKAR SIR!] she barked.

    The white furred rakkan winced, [No yelling in the clinic, please. Why are you here?]

    [This recruit has to hold Recruit Bendrin's hand sir.]

    Squad Sergeant Milam whispered something in the white rakkan's ear, who nodded.

    [Ah, right, I understand. Very well. I have them sir, you may go.]

    The sergeant grunted and walked back towards the waiting room. The other rakkan, who she was starting to suspect was a doctor of some kind, waited until he had rounded a corner before continuing.

    [I am what your kind would call a doctor. Did anyone tell you why you were here?]

    Rika stared straight ahead, [No sir, this recruit was not told.]

    The doctor groaned, [I know they don't want you to, but drop the third person while you are here. It drives me up the wall. You never finished your acceptance medical exam, though they were supposed to complete that to you aboard the Trisona, though it looks like they started it. We've had to modify it a bit and amend it to deal with your compatibility, but it should be similar to everyone else's. If you have any questions, just ask. Recruit Bokkar and I will do our best to explain everything we can.]

    Rika fidgeted nervously. Even though her past two experiences were fairly mundane, she still didn't want anything to do with an alien medical department. Flashes from horror movies with people getting long needles stabbed in their eyes or other excruciating terrors crossed her mind before she was able to force them away. This was a civil race. Grenkle and the others had shown level headedness, kindness, and manners that surpassed most people on earth. She didn't feel like she was being forced here, even if she knew that she probably was. This was the military after all.

    [Yes Sir,] she sighed.

    The doctor nodded, [Good, follow me.]

    He led them to an exam room a few doors down. He showed Rika to a padded, remarkably plain table before going back to the door.

    [I'll be right back, just have to get a few things and the papers,] he said, gently closing the door behind him.

    Rika stared at the ground, her mind blank and her body wanting explode down the hall and as far away from this hell as she could. There was a squeeze on her hand that surprised her.
    Bokkar was giving her the same look of concern she had once gotten from the dog at the foster home when she had fallen off her bike.

    [What's wrong?]

    [I'm scared of what's going to happen.]

    [It's just a -----------, er, a health check.]

    Rika nodded, and then explained. [On Earth, there are stories about people being kidnapped and experimented on by people from another planet.]

    [That is horrible! Are they true?]

    Rika shrugged, [I didn't think so before I learned about the Koaku. Now... Either way they make me keep think bad things.]

    Bokkar gave a whining, groaning noise that the rakkan used to communicate sympathy.
    [That really --------. I know you don't know me very well, but I promise you we won't hurt you.]

    [Thanks,] replied Rika, trying to muster a smile, [if you're anything like the rest of your kind I know I don't have to worry.]

    Bokkar flicked her ears in a smile. Rika could hear her tail brush a little against the floor, [Thank-you.]

    The door slide open with a hiss, the doctor pushing a small cart  and holding a folder under his arm while staring at the same curious hand-held device that Grenkle used. He looked up as the door hissed closed behind him. His ears flicked slightly in a smile.
    [I'v never thought I'd have the pleasure to see one of your kind, let alone get to examine one! I have to say it's a pleasure to meet you.]

    Rika shifted uneasily and glanced at the cart. To her surprise there was only a red, featureless strap on it with a thin cord that ran from the strap to were a couple yards of it coiled loosely and ended in a small plug. There were also four small things that Rika guessed were syringes even though they looked like pens covered in writing. No exam came without shots.
	
	She tensed. Alien shots.
    
    [Uh, what are you going to do?]

    The doctor looked up from his PDA, [Nervous?] Rika nodded. He set the small computer down on the cart and picked up the red strap.

    [I am going to make sure you are healthy, and that your body doesn't have any problems.]

    "And shots," Rika added, using the english word.

    [I'm sorry, I don't know any human. What are you trying to say?]

    [They put uh, stuff to stay healthy, straight into the blood. Those things,] she motioned to the capped tubes, [you give them to people so their bodies can, uh, fight bad little animals that make you sick.]

    The doctors eyes lit up, [Ah, you mean ------------. Yes, those too.]

    He held up the strap. [Most of the exam is painless. I'm going to have you put this around your neck, and then I'm going to plug it into the computer,] he motioned to the PDA, [That will let me have a look at everything your body is doing. I can even show you.]

    He handed her the strap, and she turned it over in her lap with a hand. It really was featureless. There was no sign of any way to fasten it closed, not even velcro. It was about as thick as a pencil and flexible, almost like two ply nylon webbing, only she couldn't see any fibers. The surface was, other than a cherry red, as featureless as if it were made from polished steel or new plastic. It was almost identical to the one she had worn on the ship, except the color was much darker and it had a cord attached.

    [Uh, I just hold the ends together, right?] she asked, looking over either end.

    [Just touch the two ends together around your neck, it will, uh, become one, like your uniform,] explained Bokkar, pointing to Rika's awkward fitting suit with her free hand.
    [Ok,] she replied.

    Bokkar helped her put the strap on, Rika shivering a little when the band resized it's self down until it was gently touching her neck all the way around. The doctor plugged the cord into his PDA and began pressing buttons.

    Bokkar leaned against the table next to Rika.

    [I wish there was another chair in here,] she muttered.

    Rika scooted over on the table and tugged on Bokkar's arm, [Come on, hop up.]

    Bokkar slid onto the table. There was barely enough room for them to sit side-by side.

    [Thanks.]

    [No problem.]

    The doctor turned the PDA around, showing it to the two recruits.

    [Would you like to see what a human ------- -------- looks like?]

    Rika looked at the screen. There were various line and bar graphs with strange writing around the edges of the screen, along with several things that kept flickering between two or three symbols. Underneath them though, was the crystal clear image of a valve opening and slamming shut. Clear, except the colors were all in shades of blue rather than the pink she expected of normal flesh.

    [Is that MY heart?]

    The valve quickened it's pace.

    [Yes,] replied the doctor, [that's your -------- -------- .] He said the word again, pointing to her chest.

    [Why is it blue?]

    [It's using a different ---------- than light. So we can see with all your blood in the way.]

    [Oh.]

    [Everything looks ok, but the timing on that valve is a little bit off. That can be normal, but I need to make sure it's safe when your active.]

    [Do you need me to run around or something?]

    He laughed, [No, I can do that here.]

    He took the PDA back and pressed a few more buttons. Rika suddenly felt her heart beating faster and faster and her breathing growing heavy.

    [Wha, what's going on?] she gasped.

    [Relax,] said Bokkar, squeezing her hand. [He is, um, speeding you up inside. You are safe.]

    Rika felt like she was sprinting, though she was sitting still. After what felt like minutes  she was getting tired. Her body was hot, and she could feel the muscles in her arms and legs growing warm as the blood flow increased to them. Her suit grew moist on the outside as she started to sweat.

    [Uh, Bendrin, you are getting wet,] said Bokkar with concern, staring at the beads of water forming on Rika's face. Rika felt the rakkan's fingers move in her hand, feeling the moisture that was collecting.

    [That is her body cooling its self,] assured the doctor. [We pant and sweat through our hands and feet, but she sweats all over. That's right, Bendrin?]

    Rika nodded, wishing she was running so she could stop and sit down. The doctor showed her the PDA again. The valve was almost a blur, slamming open and closed so fast as the camera was buffeted by flowing blood. She nodded again, praying he would let her stop soon.

    [Every thing looks fine,] he said cheerfully, taking the computer back.

    [Stop... Please...] panted Rika.

    [Yes yes, you'd like that. We'll start cooling you down.]

    He pressed a few buttons and she felt her heart rate begin to slow again. It stopped at about what she would guess was a slow jog.

    [Next we'll check your --------, your --------, --------- function, and your --------.]

    Rika cocked her head in her best impression of a rakkan quizzical look.

     [My?]

    The doctor stared at Bokkar, as if to plea for help.

    [Storage thing.] She chimed with a smile. [You have five of them around your body, you know what I mean.]

    [No,] started Rika shaking her head, [No I don't -]

    [Her kind only has one,] explained the doctor, [Well, one, but three sections all together.]

    [Hmm,] said Bokkar, thinking. [They filter your blood and store stuff you need and process the stuff you don't.]

    [Ok, I know what that is. What the next thing?]

    Bokkar looked thoughtful for a while, then spoke, [they pull you away from danger without thinking.]

    Reflexes. Rika nodded and she felt her heart rate drop to that of a brisk walk.

    [The next is like the filter for your body. It takes stuff out and makes you have to, um, make water.]

    [I know the word urine,] smiled Rika, [but go on, what's next.]

    [Uh, we can use the ----- to see everything you are feeling, especially pain, so he knows were to look for problems. Like if your arm hurt, he could see exactly which ----- it was that was sending a pain ----------. You might know the back of your arm hurt, but he can see exactly where in the back of your arm was hurting, better than you could.]

    [Right,] said Rika, [I don't know if I understand that completely, but I think I get the general idea.]

    Rika felt her heart rate drop again, her breathing quickly returning to resting. The  sweat was evaporating quickly in the dry air, make her feel cold as goosebumps rose on her skin.

    The doctor nodded and started pressing buttons on the PDA again and writing on some of the papers. Bokkar noticed Rika's goosebumps and was fascinated by them.

    [What's that?] she asked, pointing to Rika's hand.

    [I'm cold,] she replied, [my body is trying to use what little fur I have to stay warm.]

    [Your body is so cool.]

    Rika just rolled her eyes, [not really. My own sweat is making me cold.]

    [I'm about to test your reflexes,] interrupted the doctor, [I need your --------- system to be quiet, so please lay back and try to relax.]

    Rikka laid back. Bokkar stared down at her, her ears in a smile.

    [These are always so funny to watch.]

    [Why is tha-] started Rika, but she didn't finish. Her jaw twitched open as if she had bitten into something too hot. Bokkar giggled as Rika's neck twitched, then her shoulders, the tick strong enough to make her hands fly off the table.

    [UH] grunted Rika as her chest and abs contracted suddenly, sending Bokkar almost into flat out laughter.

    [I'm sorry,] she giggled, [I can't help it.]

    Rika's wrists snapped back, then she felt her hands contract.

    [YIPE!] cried Bokkar, attempting to jerk her hand out of Rika's involuntary grasp. [Shave me you have a hell of a grip!]

    [Sorry,] Rika giggled as her hips twitched, then her knees. [I couldn't help it.]

    [Slow but strong,] winked the doctor, [you'll have trouble keeping up on runs until you're through it.]

    Rika groaned, imagining herself and Bokkar running far behind the group getting screamed at by the Combat Instructors as Bokkar frantically tried to get her to run faster. Just then her foot gave one last twitch and she saw the doctor put the PDA down to write.
    
    [Am I done flopping around on the table?]

    [Yes,] said the white rakkan, [you may sit up.]

    [Aww,] growled Bokkar, [it was so fun though...]

    Rika gently squeezed Bokkar's hand, making her jump. She laughed. Bokkar flicked her ears back in embarrassment, then out in a smile.
    [Ok, we're even.]

    That sat in silence for a few more minutes as the doctor ran his tests, writing things down and pressing buttons. Rika sat staring at her hands while the past weeks since her arrest replayed over in her mind. Bokkar looked in thought, and snapped Rika back to the present when she spoke.

    [Why do your reflexes have you move so hard?]

    Rika imitated a rakkan cock of her head to try and indicate confusion, [What do you mean?]

    [You nearly crushed my hand when he was testing your reflexes, and I saw the rest of your arms moving a lot too. Why do you move as hard as you can?]

    [I didn't, I just twitched.]

    Bokkar looked at the ground, her ears slowly folding. Rika didn't know this expression, but she guessed it wasn't good. Apparently the doctor knew, and was paying attention, because he interjected.
    
    [She's not lying, Recruit Bokkar. Humans come from a family of animals that are tree climbers, where as we come from runners. You'll notice that you're built much lighter and faster than she is, but she is much stronger in her arms and hands. If she had actually squeezed your hand hard she would have very likely broken it.]

	Recruit Bokkar looked her over with renewed interest. Rika saw her pay especially close attention to her arms and hands, and then to her legs.

	[That would explain why you have tree legs,] she said.

    Finally the strap released from her neck, flopping into her lap. Rika looked up as the doctor moved to collect it.

    [Done?] she asked.

    He nodded, [With the -------, yes. Just the part everyone hates left.]

    Rika looked at Bokkar, tilting her head to the side. [--------?] she asked.

    [Health check,] she explained.

    [Ah.]

    The doctor was playing with a small ninety-degree flashlight, similar to that which Agner had used on the ship, blinking a small square of light on his hand pad.

    [I need you to roll down the top half of your uniform.]

    Rika looked and the "pens" on the table and nodded. She fingered the collar of her suit for a moment before turning to Bokkar.

    [I can't,] she said, waving her fingers, [Nothing fits in the hole.]

    Bokkar chuckled and reached up with a claw. Rika felt the suit release and wiggled her arms out of the sleeves.

    "I hate shots..." she muttered in english.

    [What?] replied Bokkar and the doctor at the same time.

    [I don't like getting stabbed,] Rika repeated.

    [No one does,] said the doctor, [but I think you'll find our needles much smaller than yours. You probably won't even feel it.]

    Rika finished rolling down her uniform, feeling naked as a draft washed over her exposed body. The doctor shone the light on her right shoulder for a few moments before he set the device down, picked up the pen and pulled the cap off, exposing the needle.

    [Wait!] cried Rika, a bad feeling rising in her gut, [What is that?]

    The doctor stood there blankly for a second, then looked to Bokkar.

    [Uh, it's, er, stuff that keeps you from getting ill... A preventative.]

    [Preventative for what? What kind of ill causer... uh, small... ARGH! I hate not knowing words!!]

    The doctor flattened his ears and looked to either side, [I don't think there is any way to say what it is so you can understand.]

    Rika stared at the ground, defeated, [I know, just get it over with.]

    She heard the pen set back on the tray and looked up.

    [Aren't you going to give it to me?]

    The doctor smiled, [Our needles are small. I already gave it.]

    He picked up the light again and lifted her arm to feel around in her armpit with a gloved hand. She squirmed when he found a lymph node. He shone the light on the area and she watched as he stuck the second pen into the node. It hurt this time, but only deep within her armpit.

    [The same thing?] she inquired, unable to ignore the disturbed feeling.

    [Nope,] replied the doctor, [This is to prepare your, erm, ah, killing parts in your blood. It translates the white ones in preparation.]

    Adrenalin flooded into her system. Rika felt like she was undergoing another stress test, her heart began pounding and she felt sweat forming on her brow again.

    [WHAT? Translating what?! What are you doing to my immune system? Prepare for what? What's in that third needle?]
    
    [They didn't tell you?]

    "Tell me what?!" she yelled in english, "What the fuck is going on?!"

    [Calm down Rika,] begged Bokkar, [we haven't tried to hurt you yet, and we arn't going to now.] Rika bit her lip and stared at the ground, trying to calm herself. Her heart pounded in her chest, and he brain wouldn't stop screaming that something was wrong. Bokkar watched Rika a few seconds before giving the doctor a stern look, [Now then, the doctor is going to explain exactly what he is doing, right?]

	The doctor nodded uneasily. Past experience also taught him that enlisted troops were a little off-center mentally at best, and formed strong friendships quickly. He didn't know if that applied to humans or even recruits for that matter, but he was out numbered and out matched. He began explaining quickly, mostly to Bokkar, what he was doing.
    Rika didn't understand most of what was said. The words were technical and spoken quickly, though she could make out something to do with "adaptability" and "body" and "compatibility". When the doctor finished speaking he sat on the counter-top, massaging his forehead while waiting for the black furred rakkan to translate everything to her friend.
    Bokkar didn't look up at her, but stared at the floor as if in thought. Her ears appeared to be sharing conflict with some cognitive part of her; torn back and forth between full forward and laying back. When she did speak it was slow, as if labored by thought.

    [Rika,] she began, [you didn't understand any of that, did you?]

    Rika shook her head, [something about body and compatible. That's it.]

    Bokkar didn't look up from the floor, but her ears indicated that she troubled, laying flat against her head. [I thought so.]

    She stared at the floor a few more moments in silence. When she looked up the normal spark of cheerfulness that had first occupied her expression in the office was gone. Replacing it was a solemn sincerity that looked her human friend in the eye and didn't flinch. Rika got the quiet feeling of power looking in her eyes, like that of a mountain or granite cliff.
    [I don't know how to explain this to you so you will understand. You just don't know the words, and I don't know how to teach them to you. I don't know any of your language that might help, or how much you know about science to try and explain everything. But I don't want to try and lead you wrong by mistake, either.]
    She paused, her ears flicking once before returning back along her skull. She blinked a few times, but never looked away. [You need to trust me, Rika'.  This is going to seem scary, but you will be fine. Your body is going to change a little, but you,] she touched Rika's temple with a claw, [in here, the real you will be the same. Do you understand?]

    Understand? She thought; her over taxed adrenal gland attempting to dump whatever it had left into her system. I understand I am going to change. I could  just stop having my period, or it might be something as drastic as turning into a giant lamprey! WHAT THE HELL? IS RANDOM FORCED TRANSFORMATION NORMAL HERE? 

    Rika glared at her, [I understand you are going to change my body in a way you can't, or won't, describe. Why?]

    Bokkar looked in thought for a second, her brow furrowed. [You are not compatible with our equipment, our weapons, and most of our medicine. In this body you would need special everything. Just look at your uniform,]

    Rika followed Bokkar's motioning hand down to her ill fitting uniform to her bare feet. Recruit Bokkar continued, [What would happen if there was an accident, and the only thing we had was rakkan medicine? There would be nothing we could do without risking killing you. Not to mention if you ever needed new uniforms it would take ages to get it. You need this.]

    They were making her one of them, or at least something close. By their logic and technology it was far easier to make her fit their civilization than the other way around. Rika knew the rakken by her side was right. If she was going to be in a dangerous job she would need to be able to be treated if she was injured. 

	[So, what, I'll be a half human, half rakkan? Is it reversible?]

	Bokkar suddenly perked up and smiled. [Both of my parents were not born rakkan, and further from it than you are. Yet here I am. I don't just look rakkan; I am rakkan, and so are my parents. People can only guess my heritage by my unusual fur pattern.]

	[And it can be reversed?]

	Recruit Bokkar looked at the doctor, who shrugged.

	[Rakkan use something similar when visiting other planets who haven't had contact yet, and they can change back. For people like you and my parents though... I don't know.]

	She looked Bokkar in the eye again: [I will be okay? My mind will not change?]

	Bokkar smiled, [On my honor, you will be the same Rika I speak to now.]

    Rika bit her lip, feeling like she was about to jump into a cold swimming pool. She could feel the goosebumps rising on her arms and her body felt chilled just thinking about it. Well, cold really. Over the past few minutes the room seemed to be growing colder, and now it was down right bone-chilling. If she didn't know better, she would have thought she was growing a fever. She was even starting to shiver.

 	Finally she bit the bullet and gave in, just as Bokkar opened her mouth as if to say something.

	[I trust you.]

    She turned to the doctor to give him the ok, but found him putting the cap back on the third pen.

    [What?!]

    He shrugged, [You said you trusted her. You were running a fever. Indicating that your immune system was reacting to your body, starting to attack it. I couldn't wait much longer.]

    [I didn't have a choice, did I?]

    [You did,] replied Bokkar, standing up, [you could have died if you had wished.]

    [And you would have let me?]

    [If that had been your choice, yes. I would have made sure you knew it was going to happen before it was too late... I was about to tell you.]

    Rika was about to reply, but the ominous figure of their Combat Instructor appeared in the doorway. Quickly she slipped back into her uniform, grabbed Bokkar's hand and stood as the doctor explained something to him quietly.
#
There was the familiar growl as engine one came online and Scout watched the engine parameters for a moment to ensure they were stable and where the should be. She cleared the warning from the master caution light and went back to her checklist. 
	The digital display indicators (or DDIs as they were known) flickered in the cockpit and she smacked the instrument panel more out of reflex and habit than anything, -they were back on before her hand even made contact. The master caution light came on again, and she frowned as she saw the flight control fault codes start to display on the opposite DDI. She pulled up the self test menu and started looking for the one she wanted.
"Uh, Scout, we have a problem." Said Echo from the back seat.
"I know, trying to clear it with a BIT before getting a troubleshooter." She replied.
"No," he said. There was unease in his voice. Not good. 

"Well?" She shot back, signaling to the Plane Captain and waiting for him to repeat it before initiating test. The Super Hornet jerked and bounced slightly as the computer moved the controls in it's preprogrammed test.

"We don't have any transmitting or receiving."

"Both radios?"

"I mean on anything. No radios, no satcom, no radar, no ALQ, no TACAN, nothing! It's like were sitting in a glorified jet powered Sopworth Camel! At least the damn targeting pod works... for once." 

A few more seconds of jostling from the jerking flight controls and the fault code cleared. 
"FCS is good. Still no go on everything back there."

"It's FUBAR Scout, calling a troubleshooter," he said, making a "T" with his hands before holding out a single finger out sideways. The plane captain nodded before turning around and repeating the signal. It wasn't long before a technician in green jogged over and plugged his comset into the front of the jet.

"Good evening sir, what is the issue?"

"All transmitting and receiving is down on everything." Said Echo, "I-"

"Goddamnit."

"-Excuse me?"

"Sorry sir. The whole ship is experiencing the same thing. The last three aircraft all had the same problem, and we couldn't clear it. I see four more plane captains calling for com/nav, and there's a swarm of technicians running around the ships displays upstairs."

"#All aircraft shutdown immediately#" The accent was strong enough to stand a spoon up in. Eve tried her best to place it. It was very guttural, but definitely not German. Russian? No. Norwegian? Perhaps, but it didn't fit what she had heard. Icelandic maybe? What did that sound like anyway?

"Well that came through." Said Echo, snapping her back to reality.

She keyed the mic: "Identify yourself."

Static. It was strange that nobody else was making the same demand. Then again, maybe they were, and like herself all they heard was static.

"We're being jammed." Said Echo. "On a secure net, on our own fucking ship, we are being jammed. That should be impossible! What the fuck is going on?!"

"#Final warning. All aircraft shut down. Carrier group cease travel and remain still.#"

"Who the hell is this?" Said Scout, swallowing the icy tendrils of fear as they crept up her. Echo was right. It should be impossible. "Identify yourself!"

Below the plane captain frantically began drawing his hand across his throat; the signal to "kill it" or shut down. She frowned and glanced up at the tower. To her surprise the air boss was leaning out, frantically screaming something and giving the same motion with his hand.
She cut throttles, and sat in the dark cockpit as the engines wound down. By the time she opened the canopy the flight deck was quiet except for the hushed conversations of aircrew and deck personal. She didn't wast any time heading in: she could tell by the air boss's actions that any real information would be coming down from inside the ship, not along the outside of it. Echo followed at her heels, uncharacteristically silent.
"Do not undress, ma'am and sir. Go straight to the ready room. Skippers orders." 
She had barely made it through maintenance control's hatch before the maintenance chief had begun talking.

	"Thank you, Senior Chief." She replied, turning and walking across the maintenance control office to the second hatch. 
"Oh shit," muttered Echo.

"Can it Ech-" She stopped suddenly, the hatch wide open. The ready room was packed. Every officer in the unit was there, some in full flight gear like herself, others not, and more than a few looking like they had just hit the rack when they were called back in. Most were talking in groups, making the already cramped room seem that much smaller and stifling. 
"Everyone sit down!" boomed a voice that could only belong to the Maintenance Officer, or MO. "Skipper and ex-oh should be back any minute." There was a brief clamor as officers hurried to sit down, some trying to squeeze in with bulky gear. She managed to slide in a seat from one end. Echo squeezed in next to her. They didn't stay there long.
"Attention on-"
"SIT DOWN"

They were half way up already and promptly dropped back into their seats. The Squadron commander walked to the front of their room and nodded to the Ops. Officer, who closed and locked the ready room hatch. The commander looked over the room.

"Where is Ruffles?" He asked.

"Duty." Someone said. It sounded like Gomer. 

The CO gave a hint of a smile. "Good." There was a quiet chuckle from the room, but it quickly ran cold as the commander rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed.
"Alright. As those of you who were just on the flight deck know, someone is jamming the ever living dog shit out of us, and demanding we cease all operations." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Including all vessel movement. The simplified transmission we received was something along the lines of 'Shut down and stop or we'll shut you down and stop you ourselves.' While you on the deck were demanding the voice to identify themselves the vessel was doing much the same. After no identification was given, the captain told the jammer to go, and I quote, 'Eat a hepatitis shit sandwich' (don't tell anyone I passed that on) and then the entire ship promptly lost power until the bridge gave in and completely cut throttles. "

"Holy shit," muttered Echo, "that's impossible."

The CO nodded. "They're still trying to figure out how they did it. And they obviously knew that without power we don't have ventilation below, and on a ship this size that can be lethal. The skipper is determining if they had inside help, and in the mean time we are in an alert status. We will be rotating an eight hour shift of a flight of pilots, geared up and ready to go at a moment's notice. MO, maintenance will go as usual, but nothing happens to my alert aircraft to change their status. You can all be assured the moment we get out from under this bull every free bird we have will be going up to give us some eyes and a full mouth of fangs. Questions?"
Echo's hand shot up and the commander shot him a cold look. It didn't phase him.
"Sir, what about the rest of the battle group sir? No help?"
"We had to break out the damn signal lamp to find out, but they are all under the same duress: dead in the water with no comm."
He looked around the silent room for a moment.

"Alright then," he said, "those of you on tonight's sorties have first alert. ODO will have the roster posted right after the OPS-O has it to my office. Carry on, and not a damn word." He added, pointing to the Operations Officer by the door as he opened the door to walk out. The room immediately erupted in noise as people started talking. 
"C'mon," said Echo, "-maintenance control. The airconditioning doesn't have to work as hard there." He added with a nod to all the talking officers. 
Scout caught Spark's eye across the room and he nodded, starting to make his way through the gaggle of yammering officers.

Six hours later found them still leaning on counters and sitting on the occasional free chair, shooting shit with the night check desk chief. A plane captain came in from the flight deck and began to sign off the daily and durn around inspection on one of the alert aircraft. Chief looked at the plane captain, then at the clock, then back at the plane captain.
"Damn Hudser, I hope you didn't rush that job. It only took you four fucking hours."
"Sorry chief," airman Hudser said, not looking up from where we was writing in the logbook. "I was done a long time ago, but AE3 Ortiz said he saw something over the ship, so a bunch of us were watching it trying to figure it out if it had anything to do with all the radar going down and the power acting weird."
"They let you stand around on the flight deck and star gaze." Said the Chief, his voice saying he clearly was not buying it. 
"Oh no Chief. We all hid between the vert stabs on aircraft two oh..." He trailed off as he looked up and noticed the circle of officers watching him for the first time. "...Four." He finished before muttering "Shit" under his breath.
"You saw something?" asked Scout with alert interest.
"It was nothing ma'am. Just looked like heat waves from the ship refracting light."
Scout stood up from where she had been leaning against a cabinet and said the words every junior petty officer dreaded hearing: "Show me."
"Yes ma'am."
She grabbed her gear bag and pulled her helmet onto her head.
"I'll be on two zero four if they call the alert chief. Sparks. Echo."
"We'll pass the word if someone comes looking." Said Sparks."
She gave a nod and followed the Plane Captain through the passage ways to the flight deck.

It was a beautiful night. Pleasantly cool, but not the bitter cold they had known over the past few nights. There was a slight breeze, the occasional lap of the water and noise of a mechanic working were the only breaks in the stillness. Above them there wasn't a cloud in the sky: a fantastic display of the cosmos spilled out across the black expanse.
They arrived at Buno 204, an aging "F" model super hornet tucked aft of the tower. AD3 scrambled up the ladder and walked down the cobra-hood shaped extension, or LEX as they called it, to the mid section. Eve climbed a bit slower; she was encumbered by her flight gear; and stopped when she reached the top of the ladder.
Normally the canopy was up, exposing the hand hold that she normally used. Now the canopy was closed, and instead of the handhold she was used to the bulbous form of the canopy threatened to push her off the curved LEX should she try and scramble up.
	Ignoring the amused look on the Plane Captain's face she attempted several different hand placements before settling on one, gritting her teeth, and hoisting herself up. Carefully she got to her feet, and looked at the Plane Captain, who had restored the poker face often used when dealing with officer. She smiled.
"You guys make that look a lot easer with the canopy down than it is."
The corners of his mouth twitched. "Lots of practice ma'am."
She nodded and followed him to the back of the aircraft. There was a group of about five maintainers, all of which started to stand at the sight of her. She held a finger to her lips and motioned for them to sit down.
"As you were. I just wanted to get away from all the hot air and bullshit."
She sat on an empty spot in between a rudder and an uneasy looking airframer. She relaxed against the vertical and let out a sigh.
"No wonder you sleep back here! This is pretty comfortable!"
"It's even better when the engines are running, ma'am." AD2 Bickley said. "It's warm and acts just like a massage chair. The noise drowns everything else out."
She gave a short laugh. "I'll have to try it sometime. AE3 Ortiz, I'm told you saw something above the ship?"
"Yes ma'am. I still do." 
"Where is it? I'd like to see it please."
The electrician got to his feet, took the two steps over to the officer and dropped to one knee.
"Do you see the bowl of the big dipper there?" he said, pointing to the sky. 
She recognized the constellation and nodded. "I do."
"Now look at the stars just above and below it."
"Alright." She said, not seeing anything different.
"Now follow that narrow band directly towards the stern. Just look at the stars."
She did. There was an area towards the aft of the ship that seemed to get  a little dimmer, but as the plane captain said; it could be distorted due to the heat waves of the ship.
"Alright AE3, but I don't see anything except where they get dim towards the aft. That could be due to the ship's heat-"
"I know ma'am, but keep in mind where that dimness starts. Let me know when you've memorized it."
"I have it." She said, starting to feel like the enlisted half were simply making a fool of her.
"Now walk from fuselage to where the wing folds, watching that spot."
She looked at him, almost sure he was simply trying to make her look like a fool.
"OH! Are you showing her the spot?"
Eve leaned forward to see AE1 McGonigle  climbing up onto the LEX.
"Check this out Ma'am. Its wild. Did they say anything about it in the pilot pow-wow?"
"No," she said, climbing to her feet, "but that doesn't mean they don't know anything about it." She had worked with AE1 long enough to know he was a no-bullshit sailor and wouldn't tolerate his subordinates playing games in this manner. She walked to where the fuselage met the left wing. She looked up at the group of stars she had memorized and walked to the left while looking at them.
They maintained their brightness, and shifted subtly in odd and all directions.
"What the fuck." She muttered, half under he breath.
"Exactly." Said AE3 Ortiz. "I'm glad you see it too."
She began systematically picking groups of stars around that cluster and making the same walk, noting which ones changed and which ones did not. She spent about twenty minutes walking back and forth until someone interrupted her.
"Determining size and shape, ma'am?" asked AE1.
"You've got it." She replied.
"AE3, get me a clipboard with blank pieces of paper on it. Keep track of the Lieutenant's findings however she wants."
"Aye AE1."
The sailor was gone before she saw him leave. When he returned with the pad she drew a short sketch of what she knew, and together they finished the outline, complete with reference stars. It was about another hour before they finished the drawing. The sun was just starting to rise.
"It looks kind of like a dagger." She said.
"Or an old SR-17 with the engines lopped off."
She nodded in agreement. "I'd say so." She looked up noticed the tail of an aircraft moving past, nosing towards the fantail. She frowned.
"He's going to have trouble turning that around."
AE1 popped up the ladder again with a grin.
"He's exactly how he should be." He said.
She raised an eyebrow. "The boss okay'd a move like that?"
"He okay'd this one." He replied with a wink. "That's the highest person that knows, and we should keep it that way ma'am. Please feel privileged."
She narrowed her eyes. "This is an enlisted F.M. Project, isn't it?"
"Indeed. The brains in Com/Nav think they have a way to get around the jamming and are going to test fire off the back to see if they can get a peak without our invisible friend-" he jerked a thumb skyward, "-from interfering. 
She nodded, letting a smile creep onto her lips.
"I guess I should just relax back here on the tail of my alert bird, since there isn't anything going on over at the fan tail. It's boring up here, but after all there is fresh air. I really wish there was something to look at or know about so I could have the pleasure of reporting it up to make myself look better."
AE1 nodded. "I'll let you know when things become less boring so you can look for something to report ma'am."
"Thank you, first class."
And with that the petty officer climbed down the ladder again and she made her way to the tail and resumed sitting between the verts. To the east the sun was beginning to make it's daily journey across the sky. Off the stern of the ship she could just make out the flare of orange cloud against purple skies.
She heard voices just out of her field of vision, and after a few minutes the kick and scream of the ground cooling fan as ground electrical power was turned on in a jet. Less than a minute later two large, flat objects could be seen, flying towards them at a mind blowing speed. Fear churned her stomach as her mind immediately jumped to flying saucers, -they certainly didn't fly like aircraft. Not at that low altitude.
The air was torn apart around her and skin was slapped by heat as there were two flashes from right above her. Something black was suddenly there and flashed off towards where the saucers, now falling debris, had been. Several other black streaks darted away against the glowing horizon, likely from the other ships. A streak curving from the sky caused her to look up.
A swarm of pissed of hornets were descending upon the earth. At least that's what it looked like. Black, sleek objects could be seen pouring into the atmosphere from all over, twisting and curving from the chaos into what she recognized were flight packages and vectors.
She was suddenly cold. Whatever they were, they weren't from Earth. 
Beside her Smith, a young flight equipment sailor hugged his knees to his chest as he stared at the swarm.
"We are so fucked."
"Damn the torpedoes," she said, "If we're going to go, make them take everything we can dish them first."
She got up and walked to the cockpit. The canopy was already raising and she saw Echo walking out with a smile on his face. She pointed to the sky, his eyes followed, and he dropped his helmet bag.
 The plane captain, a young marine, was stone faced.
"Ready Corporal?" she asked, nodding towards the mess above them.
He nodded. "As much as I will be. I wish I was on DET with Staff Sergeant Owens... Lucky bastard. At least I'd have my rifle."
She tried her best to smile. Gallows humor.  "With the time difference... he's probably playing darts at Patty Mac's with a beer in his hand." 

#
	Sanders crouched against the shattered brick wall, fighting every instinct he had to breath. Above him he could still hear the loud, piercing hum of the skinny's ship from where it hovered. Less than twenty yards from the other side of the wall a group of the aliens were forming a defensive perimeter as more of the ground troops were disembarking. 
	To his right, Staff Sergeant Owens was plastered to the wall as well, ever so carefully peaking around the corner to spy on the aliens. On the other side of Sanders the remainder of his platoon remained frozen, clutching their weapons with eyes on their leader.
	Owens motioned for his team to slowly get ready, the time for their suicide mission approaching. The team silently complied, creeping the SABER missile into position so that it peaked above the edge of the wall. Sanders readied the targeting sights. 
***
	Across the street a strange looking figure accompanied a human crouched behind the battered ridge of a rooftop two stories up.
	[I don't get it,] Said Matt. [They'll be wasted by that company. Hell, it'll be luck if they even deal a few bruises.]
	He was tapped on the shoulder by a clawed finger.
	"Hmm"
	[Look down here,] whispered Grenkle, pointing to the side of the building that bordered a small side street. Matt cautiously peeked over the edge, Below five figures wearing Marine Corps camouflage were contained in a hole that was easily twenty feet wide and the width of the street. It was hard to guess the depth from his vantage point, but it was at least twice the height of the tallest. He swore.
	[They can't leave them behind. I'll go let the others know and go get our extended kit. We'll probably need it.]
	Genkle nodded, [I like how they are defending trapped men to the end. He's a good leader.] His voice changed slightly as he closed his mask and called on the secure channel [#Swab, this is weasel. We need-#]
	[#Already enrout weasel. Transport is in sight aaaand lock.#]

	Suddenly the troop transport ship's door slammed closed and it zipped away from them, vanishing over the crest of the ridge that bordered the Okinawan town. Owens stared, dumbfounded. Skinny ships never acted like this, they always had at least twenty or thirty more troops on board, and they always stuck around for at least a little while afterwards to give them time to find cover.
	Something dark flashed over head, followed seconds later by a shock-wave that shook the ground and threatened to topple the rest of the wall onto themselves. Suddenly there was a brilliant flash, followed by another deafening boom. Owens could see a cloud in the sky where something had blown up, but it appeared to have come from nowhere.
	The Skinnys were upset about something as well, shifting about uneasily in there perimeter as if they were unsure about what to do. Half of them were staring at the sky, then looking at each other. Of those on the perimeter, most seemed to be uneasily scanning the surrounding rubble, slowly back up. If they were going to do anything, now was the time.

	"NOW!"

	Owens was still yelling "W!" as the SABER streaked off, shaking him violently with a deafening boom. Shortly following it were the orange streaks of the fifty caliber; every third round a tracer as the gunner walked it in. 
The world smothered to silence. The missile seemed to be crawling through the air, and he wondered briefly how it was staying airborn. Around him he could see aliens running, raising their weapons and jumping, all in slow motion. Time had slammed on it's brakes, and was sluggishly sliding forward. 
In front of him the SABER collided with something (or someone) in the crowd of aliens, sending bodies flying as the explosion ripped the group open. 
Chaos immediately reversed it's flow, as limbs began bursting, head-sized holes appearing in skinny torsos and alien bodies shook. To his right he could barely hear, feel more than anything, the low thug-thug-thug of Sanchez's fifty cal. The massive machine gun had always stopped the skinnies, but it had never penetrated the invulnerable suit their infantry wore. 
Skinnies were diving for cover behind the rubble, but aside from a few panicked, unaimed shots no fire had been returned. One of the skinnies was slow to move, and Owens shifted slightly, sending a hammered pair into what he guessed was a vital area. The alien flinched, but the bullets simply fell to the ground from where they had hit. Then there was a flash, and everything above it's waist was gone, as if it had simply vanished into thin air. 
He shifted again to find another skinny that hadn't found cover, when it burst in front of him, collapsing in a puddle of dark purple goo and shattered space suit. It was as if suit and creature had instantly and spontaneously melted.

He hadn't even pulled the trigger.

Looking up from his sights, he began to see the same phenomena repeating across the field. Skinnies would just up and vanish, usually with a piece of the landscape. Others would flash-melt, splattering into a pile on the ground. The remainder seemed to only have large holes blown in them, through their seemingly impenetrable suit. Something caught his attention from the corner of his eye, and he momentarily glanced over at his men. 

	There were others. Scattered intermittently between his Marines were bizarre looking figures, crouched behind the cover of the wall as they fired equally bizarre looking weapons. They were covered head to toe in nearly featureless flat grey suits, which extended up and over their heads. Like the Skinnies their faces were covered, but instead of the typical white, skull-esque mask, these wore glossy, featureless hoods that curved out and narrowed in the front, giving them the appearance that they had an almost dog-like muzzle.
	Owens snapped back to the combat in front of him. They weren't fighting his marines, yet, so his main threat was still from the front. Ahead of him, one of the Skinnies was leaning out from behind a concrete traffic barricade. In his hands was a large, long silver cylinder that he was pointing towards him. Owens squeezed off a single round from his rifle before someone slammed into him, ripping him to the ground towards his men.
	Time caught up, rapidly. Sulfur burned his nose, and he could feel the heat from the muzzle of his rifle, less than an inch from his face. Gravel stabbed into his hands where they were sandwiched underneath him and his rifle. He tried to spin over; off his stomach, but the figure was gripping his upper arms and laying on top of him, pushing him to the ground. From his awkward position on the ground he could see fingers from one of the hands around his arm. A short claw on the end of four fingers, all covered by a seamless, flat grey material. After what seemed like an hour there was a deafening *SMACK* behind him. The person finally rolled off of him, and Owens lifted himself onto a side to see who had tackled him.
	It was one of the mysterious arrivals, the smooth grey material interrupted only by the glossy, muzzled mask. Looking back at his position he could see the wall. It was laid out in a scattering of finely crushed bricks and mortar scattered across the road behind them.
	"Thanks," he coughed to the figure. It nodded once, then looked down at it's feet. Owens wasn't sure how they were supposed to look -the odd shapes and angles were definitely foreign to him- but one leg was shorter than the other, and brilliantly red blood was beginning to run over the dusty concrete. The figure gripped his leg, slowing the blood flow.
	He ripped the velcro open at the base of his flak jacket and frantically ripped out his belt. Sliding over to the wounded figure he reached for their bleeding stump. The mysterious person kept their grip on the leg, but lifted their arms, allowing him to slip the belt around their leg. Snatching an empty magazine from his pouch, he slid it under the buckle before tightening it down. The figure released their leg, and snatched the end of the belt, wrapping it and additional time around their leg before gripping the empty magazine and twisting it. The belt tightened around the leg, and the person reposition their hands, turning the magazine until the bleeding stopped. Dipping his finger in the blood on the ground, Owens hastily wrote the time on the figure's thigh. 
	"JUST HOLD THAT," he shouted over the gunfire. The figure nodded and crouched, hands on the magazine. Owens didn't need to see their face to know they had to have been in pain.

Crawling back to the wall he popped back over the crest, scanning the scene. A single alien crawled out from behind a shattered cinder block wall, gripping a blocky microwave cannon. Instantly there was the rattling sound of gunfire from eight M-16's and the fifty caliber before a large portion of it's chest erupted out of the back of it's suit, the rest of the body crumpling to the ground.
	Back behind the wall his men were still focused on the battle field in front of them. The occasional BAT-BAT as they issued their usual "Insurance Policy" on anything that might not be all the way dead. 

	One didn't take chances with skinnies.

	One of the hooded figures was running towards him, waving a textbook-sized pouch. Owens looked back at the person who had tackled him earlier squeezing their leg with both hands, nodding at the running figure.  
	There was a shout, and Owens looked up. One of his marines had seen the running figure and was yelling at it to stop, taking aim with his rifle. Owens screamed at him to hold his fire, jumping to his feet and launching himself to get between the rifle and the strange figure he recognized as bringing help to his injured savior. The marine was too focused on his target to see him though. The rifle cracked, and Owens felt the heat on his face before smacking into something behind him.
	Owens fell to the ground before scrambling to his feet again, waving his arms and screaming at the top of his lungs.
 
"CEASE FIRE, CEASE FIRE!!"

 Several of the mysterious fighters took the opportunity to move forward through the rubble, weapons raised, looking for survivors. His marines were beginning to notice the newcomers, and appeared to be rather uneasy of the situation, but they lowered their weapons slightly and looked at him.

"Burns!," he shouted, "WHAT THE FUCK! YOU NEARLY KILLED ME!"

"Sorry Staff Sergeant," he said quickly, "I thought he was a-"

"THEY JUST WASTED A FUCKING COMPANY OF SKINNIES! I DON'T GIVE A FUCK IF THEY'RE STALIN'S UNDEAD ARMY, DON'T. FUCKING. SHOOT. THEM! GODDAMNIT BURNS, FIRST HERNANDEZ THEN ME- I SWEAR YOUR GOING TO GET US MURDERED BY OUR OWN TEAM BEFORE THE SKINNIES DO! IF ITS NOT A SKINNY, DON'T KILL IT TILL IT SHOOTS AT US, EVERYONE HEAR THAT?"

There was a correlation of nods and "Yes Staff Sergeant." 

"Good. Who needs doc?"

Before anyone could answer the grey clad figure that had been running with the pouch briskly walked up to Burns. There was a copper colored smear on the forehead of his face shield. It reached a clawed finger underneath it's chin, and a seam formed a around the glossy mask; encircling it's face from above the brow and down the side before running forward along the base of the mask's snout before returning along a similar rout on the other side. The figure then reached up and lifted the mask, swinging it up like a welder's helmet. 
Inside, a snarling muzzle came before angry green eyes. Fur covered the dog-like face, sweeping back in a reddish brown from it's black nose before fading into a light grey at the eyes and cheeks. It loomed over Burns, who stared up in fear, finally figuring out the group responsible for the liquefying of the Skinnies. The canine-faced figure moved, and Burns's flinched.
A clawed index finger ended an outstretched arm as it pointed at the marine on the ground. Owens was surprised and shocked, so much so that for a few moments he just stood there, staring.

"RAGRASH MOGU DO RAGMANHAS! GOMA NAHA EHU? ETSH? ONI? HONU KUBA! GOKAWA RO RAGRASH?"

"Agner," came a voice. Nobody payed attention.

The figure stooped lower, and to Burns's credit he didn't move, though the terror was evident on his face. A clawed finger jabbed into his chest as the creature continued chewing his ass. 

"Agner!"

Owens finally collected himself and interrupted.

"SOHI NE WAL PETVA! SKOKI-"

"HEY MOTHERFUCKER, WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" Owens screamed, shoving the two legged dog to the side and positioning himself in between it as his men.

"AGNER," shouted a low voice to the side. He turned to see the injured person who had saved his life sitting up, their mask up as well. This one shared the same canine features but was jet black save for a wide, light grey blaze than ran between it's eyes before opening out into a patch on her head. It's expression was relaxed, and Owen wondered just how large a dose of painkillers it had just received. 
"His Commander has already made him vary clear on his mistake. 'ut yourself in their 'osition for a second before you start biting faces. These are MARINES Agner. You of all 'eo'le should know we don't wan' a conflict with them. An' fer fuck's sake, use english. Owens," She added, turning back to the Staff Sergeant, "thank-you for the use of your belt."
It held up his belt, the blood drying in it's nylon weave. Looking down he saw a dark blue cap over the end of the creature's severed leg. He reached over and took his belt back.

"Cut it." He said, fishing his belt back through it's loops. "I need answers, and I need 'em fast. Your group here mopped up a company of skinnies like they were a handful fire ants while we've barely been able to scratch them using our heavy stuff. To kick it, you're obviously not human, so what gives? Quickly! We can't afford to be trusting or wast time."

"Bar," it replied, "Com'any Sargent. 'Is is my, well, part of my unit. Com'any Sargent Genkle has the other half across the street providing cover and heavy support.'"

"So," he continued, not comfortable with letting this person know the frugal handful of Marines he had were everyone left. "The two inevitable questions. Who that fuck are you all, and what the fuck are you doing here? No wool over my eyes, your group here mopped up a company of skinnies like they were a handful fire ants. We've barely been able to break a few threads on their uniform."

He extended his hand, and Bar took it, hoisting herself up on her good leg.

"Thank you. We are the Rakkan." Bar explained, "We are here to assist Earth in repelling the Koaku. A handful of us have been here a while, hidden, observing and researching your s'ecies and the rest that inhabit the 'lanet. I'm not 'rivileged to details, but in the past that has usually followed with an offer to integrate civilizations."

"So to take over. But the Koaku tried to beat you to it. I see-"

"No." Said Bar. "I'm not saying 'oliticians haven't used circumstances to 'ressure things, but they have always mandated a 'o'ular vote. 'lanet wide."

"Uh-huh. Of an over-populated planet?" He said, not buying it.

"Your s'ecies is more valuable to us alive and in great numbers than your resources are." The staff sergeant crossed his arms over his rifle and pursed his lips. Bar continued, appearing to not notice. "Our gene 'ool is dangerously shallow. If you think your s'ecies has a shallow pool, compared to ours it is like the ocean. We want to make you're s'ecies 'art of our own, not conquer it."

SSgt. Owens had heard enough. "Bullshit. What, you're plan is to have everyone just have an gigantic orgy? You're six foot fucking eight and look like mis-colored bipedal wolf! Do we even have the same number of chromosomes? And if your gene pool is so shallow, why doesn't everyone have defects out the wazoo.. Or is your group here only the finest and best?"

Bar made an expression he didn't understand. A smile maybe? It wasn't threatening, but he couldn't tell between innocence and something malicious.

"HALT. IDENTIFY YOURSELF." Screamed Hernandez. 

Owens turned, seeing Hernandez at the ready and followed the rifle to an ally across the rubble-lined street. A man with an odd looking rifle at the alert was standing in the entrance. He wore a similar uniform to the others, but a digital woodland green camouflage kevlar was on his head.

"SERGEANT BENDRIN!" He yelled. "GERAK COMPANY. I'M WITH THE TECHNO WEREWOLVES. AS YOU WERE TEUFEL HUND, I"M ON YOUR SIDE!"

"Staff Sergeant, he.. But he knows... I mean, should I?"

"Is he one of yours?" Owens asked.

Bar nodded. "Our liaison. Let him though before that crazy S.O.B. Thinks we need rescuing." 

Owen let out a short laugh. "You? Rescue? Let him through Hernandez."

"I don't know why you're shocked." She said. "That bastard is one of your kind."

Owens frowned. "Now all humans are-"

"No." Interrupted Bar, "He's a jar head. Or was, or however that works."

"Oh." Owens paused for a moment as the man jogged up. "Never mind. It makes sense now."

"Staff Sergeant." Bendrin nodded as he dumped a small pack on the ground. Owen gave a polite nod back.

"You never answered me. Why are you really here? Your gene pool story sounds like a load of crock, so-"

"Oh, that." Replied the man. He was rummaging though the bag until he pulled out what appeared to be a very basic prosthetic. He handed it to Agner before continuing. "I thought it was too until I saw it myself. Wait, do you mean the gene changing thing, or that the pool's that shallow?"

"Both. Woah, wait, changing genes? Now it's bullshit."

"It's not. They've developed a process that actually goes and changes your DNA, cell by cell, and then stimulates them to grow. We were here six years ago finding volunteers to test it."

"You were abducting people?"

Bendrin scoffed and gave the Staff Sergeant a disbelieving look.

"Please, Staff Sergeant. Go to a furry convention sometime. We had and still have plenty of willing people. I can show you pictures to try and prove it, but with photoshop these days that's meaningless. My own daughter is a convert herself. As soon as my service as a liaison is complete I will be too. -Fuckers won't promote me until I do. 'Score is so high from time in I'll jump three ranks when that day comes."

"Uh-huh." Said Owens, dubious.

"Fine. I can show you. Do you have a volunteer?"

"Matt!" Exclaimed Bar. "Not in a combat zone!"

He had pulled a couple of preloaded injectors out of his bag; one white, one red, both covered in bizarre characters written all over them.

"This one first. Make sure it goes into a lymph node-it can be a bit of a bitch-" he said, handing the white pen to the Staff Sergeant. "Be careful though. After the first one, if you don't use the second after a fever starts then you'll die. Your immune system will simply treat your whole body as an infection. The second one goes in like a normal shot into muscle after the fever has risen by at least two degrees."

"You're actually serious." Said Owens, his disbelief beginning to lift.

"As a heart attack, Staff Sergeant. The next week is hell as your body changes. The genes actually change relatively rapidly, it's the regrowing that takes time and makes you feel like shit. And... There is no reversing it." He looked the Staff Sergeant in the eyes. "I've put enough people through it to know. Everyone thought they wanted it. Some embraced it. Some only accepted it. And others struggled to come to grips with that they can never go back."

Owens held the pens out, eager to get them away from him.

"Alright," he said, "And the gene pool stuff?"

"Ah. Will you take a walk with me, Staff Sergeant?" Bendrin asked.

Owens nodded, then turned to his Marines and mouthed 'Cover me', eyes on Sanchez. Sanchez gave an exaggerated nod and restored his position behind the machine gun. Other marines did the same, or scooted closed to Sanchez their backs to him in order to keep an eye on the remaining Rakkan while protecting the machine gunner.

Matt stepped though the hole in the wall and began picking his way though the rubble towards where the Skinnies had disembarked from the saucer. Owens followed, and Matt talked as they went.

"The way the Rakkan look now is the result of their continuing to attempt to restore their shallow gene pool. They've incorporated (or consumed, depending on how you want to look at it) two other species so far. Every time they do so they take everything, from genetics, to culture, to customs, to cooking. They take technology, language, everything. If they merged with humanity today not only would you see new physical features, -fur patterns mostly- but German, French, Chinese, and English words, swears, slang, art, music, and holidays, all folded in. They love new traits- Hell, they already sell pizza on Arlon. And I'm sure I saw a Christmas tree in someone's window last time I was there.

"But what I'm saying is this: Those creatures over there are the result of not just the Rakkan, but a species called Picayans, and a species they call "Walkers", which is kind of a slang name but because they didn't use speech to communicate it stuck. Back when the Rakkan decided to deepen their pool they weighed several options: creating genes from scratch; altering genes from other species and introducing them to their own species, -in other words adding genetic variation to the population by using modified gametes instead of natural ones;"

"Ga-what?" Said Owens.

"Like egg and sperm. Those are gametes. Everyone becomes a test-tube baby."

"Oh. Gotchya."

"Anyway, the last solution they came up with was converting a species to their gene format and merging with them or vice-versa, mixing them evenly with their own existing people. The latter turned out the be the easiest and the fastest way to disperse lots of new genes.
"Approximately two hundred years ago the decision was made to convert and merge, and the race split. A large number of the population felt that preserving the race's identity was more important, and that to merge and recreate this much variation would cause them to loose their original identity. Which, in their defense, is exactly what happened."

He stopped at the carcass of a dead skinny, laying face up. There was a large hole where it's left shoulder and most of it's chest should have been.

	"So those that disagreed left. The Rakkan had set up a colony some distance away, and under the threat of conflict these purists left, taking the colony and kicked many of the original colonists back to Arlon. The remaining Rakkan merged with the Picayans, and the Rakkan on the colony formed their own nation and continued from there. They've never incorporated any other races, becoming almost like clones, so while the Rakkan who have merging with other species have been inheriting technologies and resources, the purists haven't. In fact they've remained very much the same as they were two hundred years ago. Things have gotten tight space and resource-wise over there, and so they've have to turn to... other methods of acquiring the resources they need."

	He knelt at the head of the dead skinny and fished around under it's chin.

	"You can imagine the amount of animosity developed between the two over two hundred years."

	Owens nodded.
	There was a quiet squeak, and a soft hiss before the skull like mask visibly loosened from the helmet. Matt kept talking.

	"Both are rightfully called Rakkan; the purist Rakkan call the folks you've met back there something akin to golems, while these blending Rakkan call the purists 'Koaku', which means 'Inbred',"

	He lifted the mask. Owens revolted. Inside, the face looked like a hairless, short muzzled dog. It's lips were short, too short to cover twisted and misshapen teeth. Pink-grey skin was flecked with thin, wispy hair as it stretched over sunken cheeks and a boney skull. Dull, dead grey eyes looked back, while the head was anointed with short, almost nonexistent ears on top.

	"Or as we call them," said Matt, "Skinnies."

#
	Rika sat on the rolled up grip pad and lifted the panel off the floor. The smell that came up with it felt like a punch to her muzzle and she retched. She didn't need the troubleshooting tree to know what was wrong. Poking her head out of the cockpit door for a quick breath of fresh air she turned the flashlight on her PDA on and shone it down the hole. 
	Sure as shit, the side of the waste recycler tank was ruptured, and by looks of it had been leaking for a long time beforehand. She sighed and ordered the part before picking up her tools and diving into the revolting task of removing the faulty  glorified septic tank. It wasn't long before he mind drifted back to her memory...

****
     Once they were back at the squad bay the Combat Instructors took turns making the two push, run, sit-up, and do a whole number of other exercises meant for a body with far more endurance than her own until Rika could barely hold onto Bokkar's hand as they stumbled their way back to the bunk. Despite the heavy exercise she was freezing, and struggled not to shiver.
    They had to make and remake their bunks several dozen times until the screaming drill instructors were happy. Rika was miserable by the end of it, shivering violently as the room seemed to have a frigid chill to it. Her head was pounding, and the lights seemed blindingly bright. She was so exhausted and cold that she didn't follow the rest of the platoon when they were ordered into the bathroom.
    Instead, she knelt on the ground, shivering and feeling ill as her head throbbed and the room heaved and began to spin around her. If the drill instructors were there, (and they probably were, screaming their lungs out) she didn't notice. She heard Bokkar's voice a few times, perhaps asking if she was ok. Rika remembered looking up and seeing everything going in and out of focus. There was the face of a very large, concerned dog above her.
    "Nice doggy," she said. She reached up to pat it on the head, but her arm seemed too heavy. It took so much effort just to get it off the ground, and when she did she found she couldn't balance herself. There was a strong tug on her other arm that kept her upright.

    The next morning she felt better. When ever did she go to bed? She shrugged the thought off, not wanting to know the answer. The room remained still as she stared at the dark ceiling, and her head didn't hurt anymore. She was warm, too and breathing out of her mouth seemed to feel mildly refreshing, as if she had suddenly recovered from a sinus infection and could smell again.
    The room was suddenly flooded with light as something large and metal bounced across the squad bay. Screaming CI's ran down the length. She scrambled to get out of bed, remembering the movies where the drill instructors would dump the whole bunk over. The sheets seemed to stick to her as she did though, coming away with a slight tug. As her feet hit the ground her muscles complained. She must have worked out harder the night before than in her entire life, because every muscle in her body seemed incredibly sore. Her joints ached as she jumped up, along with her face, as if her body had been battered around by something. Bokkar gave her a small glance of surprise as they threw on their uniforms, but that was all before she gripped her hand and stood at attention on the red line.
    In the bathroom Rika nearly choked on her issued toothbrush. Across from her in the mirror was what clearly looked like a human, but covered in fine, short length black and reddish-tan hair. From the top of her hairline to her chin and down her neck the reddish tan hairs radiated out from the patch of black hairs that surrounded her nose and mouth and cheeks. The hairs were so dense that she could barely see the skin beneath them. Did she have to shave now? Then it hit her sleepy mind:
    She was growing fur.

    She glanced frantically to her left, where Bokkar was clumsily attempting to brush her teeth with her left hand. She noticed Rika's look, however, and nodded.
    [You will be fine. I gave my word.]

    Rika swallowed and nodded back, turning back to the mirror to brush her teeth. Two of them fell out, the roots completely dissolved. Three more were loose. After the third tooth dropped into the sink she put the brush back in her bag.
    Bokkar was still making awkward jabs in her mouth with the brush. Rika spun so that she was back-to-back with her and snatched Bokkar's left hand with her right. Then she let go with the other hand and continued her twirl so that she was facing the same way again, only on Bokkar's left side instead of right.
    Bokkar was staring at her, dumbfounded. Rika plucked the toothbrush from their combined grip and placed it in Bokkar's other hand. She took it, and silently went back to brushing her teeth while looking at Rika in amazement.

    She was starving by breakfast. After the CI's had made them get undressed again, redress, tear the bunk beds apart, rebuild them, tear them apart again, rebuild them and make the sheets before ripping the sheets off again (well, you get the idea), they marched to the chow hall. "Marched" was bad word to describe, because it was more like shuffling while one of the instructors called cadence. Every time someone got out of step they stopped, turned around, and went back to the barracks.
    Rika swore it would be noon before they made it half way. After about an hour and a half of marching back and forth they either got it right long enough to make it, or the CI's grew tired of the game and wanted something to eat themselves before the galley closed. As they filed it off to get into the line for the mess hall Squad Sergeant Milam pulled them aside. He handed Rika a laminated blue card with some writing on it before yelling at them to get back in line.
    One they were a safe distance Rika discreetly showed Bokkar the card.

    [High protein,] she whispered back, [show it to the server.]

    When it was finally her turn in the line she held up the card for the server to see. The rakkan nodded, dropped two slabs of rather undercooked looking meat and a grey, pudding-like substance on her plate before handing it back to her. Rika took the plate and waited for Bokkar to be served.
    Her friend wrinkled her nose at her plate as the server handed it to her. She gave Rika a look of disgust before sniffing Rika's plate from a distance,

    [Eeyech,] the rakkan whispered, [that stuff actually makes my food smell edible.]

    They were on their way to a bench as another drill instructor ordered his Platoon to get out, immediately. There was a hurricane of activity, and suddenly that area of the mess was empty, as if it had never been occupied.
    Bokkar sat at the first available seat, with Rika sliding in beside her. Being extremely hungry and having a sneaking suspicion that they didn't have much time Rika inhaled her food. After the first few mouthfuls she was glad it would be over quickly, too. The meat stank, like it had been cooked by sitting it under a heat lamp for far too long. The pudding-like substance was slightly more bearable, tasting something akin to creamed chalk.
    She coughed as she set down the spoon and looked over at Bokkar, who was half way through the brownish-red slop that was the main meal and looked like she was in pain. The oder reminded Rika of cooked carrots and bathroom cleaner, and she was secretly glad that the rest of the military's food wasn't this nasty. At least, not if the ship's galley she had travel with was something to judge by.

    [GET OUT OF MY CHOW HALL!!]

    They were gone, having grabbed their trays, wiped off the table, and deposited their eatery to be cleaned to the sound of screaming of the Combat Instructors.
    Then they 'marched' to an auditorium, where they were made to sit with perfect, motionless posture through a dry, boring class on military etiquette. If someone fell asleep the Combat Instructors swooped in, hauling them outside to "Intensively Train" the unfortunate soul with a heavy dose of running, push-ups, crunches, and a variety of other exercises Rika had never heard of before, all until the perpetrator could barely move. Their first experience with such was after Bokkar nodded off. They both went, of course, each getting a double dose- Once for Recruit Bokkar falling asleep, getting them "killed", and once for Rika not keeping her awake.
    Afterwards whenever one of them started to feel tired the other would squeeze her hand painfully, snapping them back to alertness. It was aggravating, but it was better than being 'I.T.'ed again.
    When the class ended another began, this one on military customs and courtesies. The sun was high by the time the instructors had ordered them at a full sprint back outside the auditorium, to make a formation in the road, and then repeat that morning's routine of remix marching to the mess hall.
    By the time they were halted in front of the doors she swore it was mid afternoon, and she wanted nothing more than to sink her teeth into a steak. Lunch consisted of the same thing that breakfast had, only staler. She didn't care though, he body demanded meat, and wasn't picky about what it was like.
    This time, there were more teeth that fell out. She spat them onto her tray, the nubs of new teeth behind them poking through her gums.

    Her meal was cut short, all of them having to evacuate the mess hall and form it up outside again. More marching, another class, this time on military pay. Afterwards it was back to the barracks to clean the whole thing at least six times over, move all the bunk beds, move them back again, then take them apart, sort the pieces, march with the mattresses pretending they were rifles, re-assemble them again... ad nausea. 

	By the time evening rolled around, her body had taken almost all it could. Her legs felt like they were lifting sandbags with each step. Her ears hurt, her vision was blurry and the world was beginning to spin again. Gamun Bokkar continue to grip her hand after she found she didn't have the strength to move her fingers anymore. The constant feeling of the rakkan's hand on hers ground her nerves, but she held her tongue. Finally the games were done, the squad bay was put back together, and they were to form it up on the road outside.
	Rika made it just outside the door when her legs gave out. Bokkar hauled on her arm as she scrambled to try to get to her feet again, but the ground wouldn't stay still, and reality seemed to spiral back and forth away from her.

	[Help me,] she whispered.

	[I've got you,] Gamun replied, pulling Rika's arm over her shoulders.

	[I can't see. Everything is just a dimming blurr. Am I ok?]

	[You are fine. Just keep in step. I'll find a C.I.]

	Rika wasn't sure how far she made it, but the next thing she knew she was looking up at the dog again, feeling like she was in a distant world. This time the dog was joined by another, then another. She knew the first one. She liked the first one.The others were going to be mean to the first, she just knew it, and it was her fault.

	"I'm sorry." She tried to say, but wasn't sure the words made it out. It was so hard to move...
#
US Army Sergeant Tobias River wiped his brow and stifled a curse, heaving the last bit of food from his stomach out onto the ornate carpet. The mid day sun seemed to take every waking second to remind him of two things; that it was another of Japan's unbearable hundred plus degree summers, and that there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. The tropical humidity matted his hair together under his helmet, and he could already see a circle of sweat soaking past the grime filled interceptor vest. The ever present stink of burning plastic wafted through the air on a cloud of putrid vapors, made all the better  by gentle breeze blowing it into his face. This place was a fucking hell hole.

River stopped and looked behind him. The wonderful salty spray of ocean mist relieved his nose for a few seconds, and he took a deep breath to savor the natural perfume. This place, this island as a whole, had been his station of duty for the past year, and he knew this spot well. The highest point in Okinawa sat atop a sheer cliff overlooking the pacific. It had been a lookout and partial lighthouse for the docks of the shipping port below, protecting merchant ships from running aground on the rocks. The pilot house and light sat atop the fourth floor of what used to be a large school house; It had been converted after the turn of the century into a quaint hotel. Now however, the building was a charred mess of half standing structure, and half debris. The cliff face visible from below had been marred with the familiar criss cross pattern of burnt earth present around the rest of the small city.

The worn man let his mind wander for a brief moment, images of a home most certainly no longer standing invading his brain. Did it look and smell like this? Were his parents nothing more than stinking piles of burnt flesh? Shaking his head, he tried desperately to push the thoughts to the back of his head. He'd seen many horrific things today, that was certain. Looking back to the men behind him, he felt his heart lurch in his aching chest. These guys had seen the same horrible things, waded through the piles of rubble and burnt bodies, and watched their friends die in front of them without so much as a warning. He owed them a capable leader, which meant the time for personal reflection would wait until much, much later. 

Rounding the corner, River let out a curse as the tip of the AT5 rocket launcher mounted on the back of his six foot two frame met the bottom of something hard. The familiar green and white "running man" exit sign had shattered straight down onto his gear, littering the back of his neck with plastic and white fluorescent powder. 

"Awe for fuck's sake!" He seethed quietly, picking the pieces out. 

Kicking the glass away in anger his peripheral vision caught the glint of a small piece of metal. Looking off to his right, past the  now open half of the building, he could make out a strap fluttering next to the olive drab of a parachute. It was hung up on something at the end of the right most side of the building, blocked from view by the crumbling center structure. Tapping the side of his helmet, his microphone activated. 

*Found the bird stuck in a tree* he whispered.

Reaching the thresh hold of the second floor landing he stopped. External walkways to the left and right, almost like a motel back in the states. A single stairwell ran through the center of all three floors effectively splitting the structure down the middle. 'Doable, gotta get someone to watch my back' he thought. Pushing forward with his SCAR on semi auto and pressed firmly in his shoulder, he scanned quickly to the left and right. Stopping abruptly, he nearly dropping his rifle. 

The walkway ahead opened up into a near perfect view of the island, or what was left of it, down below. Tendrils of fire leapt from building to wooden building, decimating the small city's cultural center, and even managing to spread out to the large shipping port. Off in the hazy, smoke filled distance he could make out what was left of Joint Base Kadena. The air traffic control tower jutted up at a strange angle and was still smoking like it had been when they left the base eight hours earlier. 

The smell of burning wood, plastic and the distinct, sickly sweet smell of ozone helped to hammer home how complete and utter the destruction had been. His superior's theory that the strike had been calculated and confined to the military installation, was a complete pile of shit. Retreating back to the stairs he radioed in.

*Clear, two, come up.* 

*Copy* came the muffled reply.

Quiet foot falls shook dust from the ceiling behind him. River turned and nodded, motioning for the man to come forward.

"I think the canopy is stuck up on the third floor, but I can't see all of it," He pointed off to the right at the barely visible parachute. "Anything on the second?"

"Nothin' below Sergeant just-"

River watched the man's gaze wander to the scene behind him, but moved to block it.

"Focus. Just what?"

"Black shit... Same as the rest." The machine gunner Fox said, looking away.

River thought back to the strange black streaks that lead out of each open room on the first floor. The spartan Japanese living areas had been utterly destroyed, but the same dried streaks slathered what little untouched sections there were. He hoped in his heart that it wasn't what he thought it was. Fox shook his head and cursed, spitting a wad of dip over his shoulder as he collected himself. 

"Menendez didn't make it. Bled out about five minutes ago."

River clenched his jaw, squashing the anger building deep in his chest. 

"You tell any of the other guys yet?"

"Nah, figure I should tell you first."

River nodded, flinching slightly as a piece of concrete fell from floor above.

"You're my new team leader. Take the two Marines; Christoff and Martin. Grab Marko too while you're at it. Gimme a quick scan of the fourth floor I'll take who ever's left for this one." 

	"Gotcha. What do we do about V?" Fox said pointing a thumb over his shoulder.

The two looked down the winding stairwell at the Corporal with the flushed white face and medical wrap around his throat. Both of his pant legs were stained crimson from below the knee to his boots. River looked Fox in the eyes and shook his head. 

"Doesn't look good."

The Private nodded. "His clock's ticking man. I've got most of what was left of doc's gear, but there wasn't any co-ag gel when I checked."

"Rodger that. I'll keep checking on him then. Grab your guys and case the rest of this level."

"Sure thing Sergeant."

River couldn't help but admire the young soldier. Fox was the image of a kid from the deep south, an accent built from the drawl of something born next to a swamp town. He'd been the company "shit kicker" since day one, and loved it. Fox knew how to lead, and that was one thing the sergeant had needed at the moment. Watching his new team leader gather up his men, River made his way forward. 

Freeing the special forces issue Glock machine pistol clipped to chest, Fox spotted his corporal laying against a pile of rubble. The broken man had been looking out toward the front parking lot with his side arm at the ready. Fox tapped him gently on the helmet before moving to his side.

"Virg, take this, got a little more bite then that berretta." He said with a smirk. Virgil gave him a slightly vacant stare before he let out a gurgled cough. He nodded his understanding. "You take it easy got it? Yer my least favorite NCO, remember?" It was a joke, and they both knew it. Fox waited for Virgil to smile slightly before patting him on the chest. "Keep your shit together." 

Taking stock of his fire team Fox spit the overused tobacco out completely. He himself was from the tenth mountain division, and he'd had no combat experience. The two Marines were force recon, but also new guys, or "boots" as the Sergeant put it. The rest though, were POG's that they had scraped up at the last minute. A person other then a grunt who came from all the walks of the military except the infantry. Cooks, admin specialists, maintenance personnel, intel, or like In the skinny kid Grime's case, nothing at all. He had only just gotten to Japan a week prior, and to Okinawa a day before all hell broke lose. He was the greenest of them all, fresh out of training and barely knew how to follow commands.

Regardless of age, experience, or background, the events experienced over the past twenty four hours had already changed everyone on the island. The small squad bore looks of grim determination told him they were ready to sacrifice everything to carry out their mission. 

"Fuckin movie shit right here." He said smirking. Grabbing the three remaining soldiers, he ushered the rest up to Sergeant River.

River took a knee. 

"We're splitting up, the walkways and rooms aren't big enough for four people to clear a room at once. Loui and Young, you two clear right. Once you get to the parachute, stop and hold it there." They nodded and took off down the hall of fourty or so rooms. He turned toward Grimes, who still looked surprisingly calm. 'Shell shock.' He thought. He'd seen it on the younger troops too. He had to stir up the kid. Punching him in the shoulder he smirked. "You still remember how to clear rooms? Or did you shit that out on the plane ride up here?"

Grimes nodded, still stone faced. 

"Two man clear, ready move, pull charge. You remember that?"

"Yes Sergeant."

"Good. Follow me, an for christ's sake, it's not the end of the world."

"Not funny." Grimes said as his lips curled into a scowl. 

It wasn't, but they didn't have time for any emotional unloading now. "Wake the fuck up, or I leave your ass here, got it? Now come on."

"Roger."

The other two made their way slowly out of his line of sight to the left, disappearing around the corner. River moved past the first door swiftly, waiting for grimes to stack up on the other side of the door. Yanking the door open, they leaned in, quickly scanning opposite ends of the room in criss crossing fields of fire. Letting the door fall shut, they repeated the process on the next room, and the one after. 

	A single room at the end of the hallway was missing a door. Looking inside, they could see it had been blown off the hinges and partially embedded in the ceiling. It became clear quite quickly that the smell of putrid flesh was emanating from this room. That same caustic, sickly sweet smell they'd run through the entire way up the hill. Grimes dropped his rifle as he passed the thresh hold. 

River stopped abruptly, keying his radio on all channels.

*Third floor left clear.*

*How?* Fox asked quickly. *I just got up here and-*

*Shut the fuck up. Finish your sweeps and get ready to move in twenty. Status on package?*

*You're not going to believe this Sergeant.*

River looked up at the ceiling with a sigh. 'From what I've seen, try me.'

*Is he still alive?*

There was a pause as the mic rustled around a bit. 

*Yeah, just barely though, He's stuck in the railing.*

*Copy. Cut him down. Quickly. The rest of you finish up.*

Three sets of mic clicks in quick succession provided a wordless affirmative. Passing the room's threshold, Grimes immediately emptied the contents of his stomach onto the black stained floor next to them.

Even with the light from the doorway as their only source it was easy to see the hell the room was covered in. The white walls were stained with the same black streaks they'd seen before. Now however, the patterns spread out in all directions, bits of sinewy gore hanging from every point in the room, almost like a bomb had gone off in a dense crowd. Human remains, if you could call the bits of carcasses that remained such, were strewn about the room in sickening piles of sludge. A separate pile of skulls had been neatly stacked in the corner, golf ball sized holes in all the skulls. River could see a single body, eviscerated, hung along the shower rod in place of the curtain like a stuck pig. From what he could see, the tub was filled with what was left. 
	
"God in heaven..." Young trailed off, his jaw hung open. 

River looked over his shoulder at the shocked man. "Grimes head downstairs. I'm gonna finish up here." 

The private looked like he was about to protest, but he stopped as River pulled a pencil sized demolition charge from his drop pouch. Young had been trained to protect his sergeant, his squad leader, but following orders always came first, even if that meant he'd be putting him in danger. Grabbing Grimes by the collar of his flak jacket, Young nearly had to drag him out of the room. 

River cursed as he surveyed the room again. 'What the hell had these people done to deserve an end so horrible.' He wondered. It was only the second building he'd seen like this, but it was a safe bet that the grey skinny aliens had systematically collected all of the people and put them here. All the guests methodically tortured and dismembered. Murdered.

He clenched his eyes shut, successfully beating back another flood of emotions, placing another charge as he did so. He willed himself to believe that these were no longer people, but soulless bodies, husks of meat. Mind over matter just wasn't doing it. 

Taking his helmet off and wiping the sweat from his brow, he clipped it to his flak and left the room. To his right were another couple of rooms, but he had already decided he wasn't going to enter them. Instead he threw the remaining charges in as he kicked the doors open, stopping only to shout for survivors to come forward. When none did, he retreated back to the first floor, repeating with what charges he had left on the remaining rooms. Reaching the end of the building, he saw the top of the parachute canopy stuck to the side. Looking down below, he could see the two soldiers struggling to cut the pilot free without letting him drop the remaining feet to the ground. 

"Ten minutes, then I start the countdown." He yelled down to them. 

They looked up and over the railing below, giving him a thumbs up. Five minutes later, and the charges were set. It made sense to demolish the building. If any more civilians took refuge, then the hilltop hotel would probably remain a meat house. Some part of River also said that the bodies needed a final resting place, and without the time or resources to do it himself, this was the next best option.

'Next best option. What a crock of shit.' he seethed to himself.

Doing one last check of his gear and making sure everyone was rounded up, River called them into a small circle. 

"Menendez is gone. Moment of silence."

The group seemed to exhale at once, before bowing their heads quickly. Looking up, Fox was the first to speak. 

"Sarge, we got one stretcher. I checked out the pilot, an he's maybe a bit better off then Virge I think. Not sure, just sayin."

"I'll carry Virgil," River began. He  slipped his helmet back on, concealing his creased forehead. Clearing his throat he drew the charging handle back on the battered M4, checking the round in the chamber. "Fox you got point. I want everyone to carry the stretcher two at a time. Switch off the instant you feel the burn. We've been out here for close to twelve hours with little water and no food. Watch each other and if someone looks fucked up, say something." He thumbed upward at the dilapidated building. "There's about two pounds of condensed PBX up there and down here. The detonators are on a half hour timer, so I suggest you grab your gear and roll. Fox."

"Yeah Sarge?"

"You grab the shit off of Menendez?"

"Clips, water, med gear, everything but his weapon."

"You get his letter?"

Fox produced a blood stained piece of paper from his cargo pocket. "You can't read shit, I was gonna-"

"You were gonna what?"

River held out his hand, palm up. Fox looked down at the letter and then back at his sergeant and swore under his breath. Handing it over he hissed a curse through his teeth.

"It's not your responsibility." The sergeant said. Taking the letter and folding it with care. Putting it in his left breast pocket, he gave Fox an understanding nod. "We'll figure this out when we get back. Everyone, grab your gear. We're headed back to the train station."

	'I'll get them out alive. Even if it kills me.' He promised himself. Hauling Virgil up onto his shoulders he grunted, the hundred plus pounds of weight of both their gear, plus the weight of the man nearly made River topple over. Righting himself, he pulled the man up, wincing when he accidentally grazed a wound in his friends leg. 

	"Sorry buddy, but no pain, no gain. Tap me on the back when you can't hang on anymore okay?" He watched Virgil nod weakly. They were running out of time. 

Without a word the small group of ten collected what they had and moved as a squad in two columns, River in the middle. They worked slowly and cautiously past the burnt out cars in the parking lot, all taking care not to make eye contact with the charred and blackened victims in their vehicle tombs. Heading out of the square parking lot and out the front entrance, they headed down the narrow and winding access road so typical of Japanese hilltop buildings.

The slightly moist top soil next to the road seemed to be the only break of the day, the soft dirt laying mercy on their battered boots and tired legs. Ten minutes later, a thunderclap followed instantaneously by the pressure wave of an explosion nearly swept the squad off their feet. Liouie and Grimes almost dropped the stretcher as they were pushed forward. 	

"A bit early aint it?" Fox yelled back through the explosive din, sticking a finger in his ear.

River checked his watch. "May be defective. EMP could have-"

Another pressure wave and explosion, but the men certainly didn't see that first. A reddish green flash nearly blinded them, before a third explosion sent a cloud of debris up in the air. Looking up, they watched a series of orange plumes rise up into the air. 

"You lay another friggin satchel of PBX next to that one Sergeant?" Marko asked.

"Skinnies?" The marine with the fifty caliber rifle, Martin asked, his voice cracking. 
	
A dark object flew through the air tumbling through the chaos. It only took the squad a second to see it was a burned out truck, and it took nearly as long to land on the section of path they had been only moments before. With a screeching crunch it hit the asphalt, tumbling off the cliffs edge into the decimated town below. Behind them more objects were flung into the air.

"Run." River said under his breath, watching the black plume of smoke curl into the air. Eyes widening, strength found his shaking legs again. "Run! Run damn it! Fucking go!"

	A second series of explosions, which had obviously been the PBX cooking off, tore through the area. Virgil seemed to tense up for second on River's back, before relaxing again. An instant later, the heat from the orange cloud reach the group, melting the plastic on their radio headsets to the kevlar frame of their helmets. 

	"Fuckin hell!"

"We passed an access tunnel on the way up, look for it!" 

Fox stopped to push the corporal up higher on the sergeants shoulders, taking up the rear. "You got any idea where it comes out at?"

A piece of smoking shrapnel wizzed by River's helmet, narrowly missing Virgil. A second later a car smashed into the hillside above them embedding itself in the soft grass. 

"I don't give a fuck where it goes, just as long as it's not here!"

"Rodger that!"

Rounding the bend, River stopped to survey the chaos, only to wish he hadn't. At the top of the hill a giant saucer hovered, spitting out beams of fire and without a doubt destroying what was left of the hotel. What the hell had been the point of eviscerating the humans, if they were just going to blow it up? 

'Forget it. Keep moving.'

The path continued down the blind side of the hill on a more gentle slope, which slowed the men's sprint to a labored jog. The steel gate of the old water plant access was covered with vines and age old rust, but the area around the lock had been scrubbed free of it. The stretcher was placed down gently, and for the first time the squad heard the pilot, their "bird", moan in pain. He'd been the reason they had to go up there in the first place a search and rescue for a pilot. Not just any pilot though, their pilot. The group didn't have to follow orders to rescue him, they simply wanted to.

River stopped to the side, setting Virgil as gently as he could against the concrete wall. Looking him over, River realized he wouldn't be taking his friend on the rest of the trip. Searching him quickly, he found the hand written letter in the pocket over his heart. Grabbing the machine pistol and clipping it to his back, he closed is friends eyes with his thumb and index finger. The rest of the squad simply didn't look.

"Grieve later." He said with a crack in his voice, more to himself then the men watching. "Martin, put one of those fifty cal rounds into that gates lock."

"Don't have to Sergeant." The Marine responded. "Lock's already been shot off."

Fox pulled the gate open with a creek, leading wordlessly into the dark abyss. River said a silent prayer for his friend and bounded in after him, the rest of the squad following.
#
	Rika shook her head and returned her focus to mindless, revolting task of removing the recycler tank from the lower fuselage of the trainer farrom she was assigned too. She wiped her hands off on her uniform and avoided thinking about what that nasty sludge was probably composed of. Her two months in this unit... supposedly. She had yet to receive orders, which was why she was still here, out on the line, pulling a glorified septic tank out of a beater UFO instead of at the transfer brief with everyone else. Squadrons out in "the fleet" that she was supposedly headed to hopefully had better equipment than this that they used. 

	She sighed, changed wrenches, and wiggled into the tiny hole that was the only access to the tank. She was beginning to wonder what was worse: Laying in fifteen years worth of leaked rakkan poop, or bootcamp. At least then her nose would have a toned down version of this smell... well, until she had woken up that one morning.

	-The first thing she had noticed were the smells. They seemed to flood into her in amazing detail, and her brain was able to categorize them with easy discernment. What had been "that faint dog smell" was now a torrent of odious colors, all rakkan, and yet all belonging to distinct individuals. She could also smell the blending of fears, stale with time, along with the dirt and foliage outside. There was one smell that was stronger than the rest, and for some reason her brain had plucked from her subconscious that smell meant friendship.

	She had awoke what to what she thought was morning. The overhead lights in the squad bay were off, but the room seemed to be bathed with light. Somehow she was laying on top of her bed. Her hand felt like it was wrapped in something soft and warm. The squad bay was unearthly quiet.
	She looked down, where Gamun was drooling onto her blanket about midway down-- 

	Rika froze, having caught sight of what was supposed to be her own body. Her breasts were gone, her chest adorn instead with thick, medium length black fur that ran from as far up as she could see to the bottom of her rib cage where it made a rough transition into a rusty-red tan. The black was flanked on either side by the same tan, that ran down her shoulders before giving way to the black, retreating to her sides.
	She was naked, but it didn't matter. Fur covered everything, transitioning roughly into black on the inside of her thighs that eventually translated into socks on her misshapen looking feet. Likewise her arms were a lighter tan that abruptly faded into black gloves half way down her fore-arms. 
	She picked up her hand, Gamun's clawed fingers still wrapped around it. At the end of each of her fingers was a single black, slightly raised pad tipped by a stubby, dull, black claw of her own, the rest was completely covered in short black fur. She brought her other hand up, observing another, like wise bald pad on her palm before reaching up to touch the dark object that bobbed with her head at the bottom of her vision. Her finger pads collided with a damp nose, followed by wiry whiskers and more hair. 
	She had a muzzle. It way maybe six inches long or so from her eyes to the tip of her nose. It was black, at least as far as she could tell. She ran her tongue over her teeth, feeling the long, sharp, jagged rows of new teeth. Next to her face, on the bed, was a small pile of what had used to be in her mouth, fillings and all. 
	There was something uncomfortable under her butt, something that she could feel like an extension of her spine with limited movement. She flexed it forward, and was rewarded by a mass of tan and black fur rising between her legs.

	It was official. She had a tail. Gamun suddenly lifted her head. She smacked her lips several times before looking up at Rika. Her ears flicked to the side in a smile while she gave her a sleepy look.

	[Oh, you look much better like this.]

	[Eeeurgg.] Rika replied. Her new mouth would take some getting used to.

	[If you say so,] she tried again, with effort. Her voice had changed. It was lower, yet somehow not overly masculine. It was... canine. Much like Gamun's and every other Rakkan she had met.

	[You had us worried. When you went down every time we woke you up you'd mutter something in your own language and then fall back asleep. The medical staff said it was normal though, so they had me drag you back here and wait for you to wake up.]

	[How long have you waited?]

	[About two days.]

	[And you've been here the whole time?]

	[Yep. The platoon has brought be food a couple of times now. I have to ask permission to leave so I can use the bathroom.]

	Rika didn't know what to think of this. On the one hand she was touched by her fast forming friendship with the alien, feeling sympathetic towards her for what must have been a painfully long two days. On the other, she was still a little upset at being backed into this change in the first place.

	She sat up, feeling weak. [I have to urinate, and I'm thirsty.]

	[Me too,] said Gamun, clamoring to her feet. 

	Rika took the opportunity to observe the rakkan as she stretched, observing how she positioned her feet, the bend in what Rika now felt to be her "knees". Dropping her legs over the side of the bed, she was just starting to psych herself up to stand when Gamun pulled her to her feet. She waved her free arm frantically, but was surprised how quickly she regained her balance. She was standing on what she would have normally considered  to be "tip-toes", but it felt natural and took surprising little effort. She took a few uncertain, wobbly steps before Gamun yanked her forward. Instinctively Rika began to walk as if she had been doing it all her life.
	[You're thinking about it too hard,] the rakkan said, [motor controls have all been reprogrammed, as have reflexes, expressions, and instincts. In essence, the whole vehicle might have changed, but the driver is the same.]

	Rika looked at her friend with suspicion. [You sure know a lot about this.]

	Gamun shrugged and kept walking. [I had an uncle that was born a Walker, and so were my parents,] she said, referring to a race of aliens known for their absurdly long legs. The rakkan had merged with them for a reason that was beyond Rika. Gamun continued. [One of my uncles changed his mind years after the offer, and decided to convert. He came and stayed with us when he did. I was only twelve years or so, but I did my best to try and help him when my parents were busy. Its how I knew you would be safe.]

	Rika smiled, feeling overcome with gratefulness. 

	[Bokkar, I am so lucky to have you as a friend.]

	Gamun wagged her tail. [I'm lucky too. Come on: Let's sneak this bathroom break before they come back.]

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