((Two chapters in as many days . LOVE ME!))

Sirens wailed in every corridor of Hammerfest – unfortunately, it wasn't just one specific type of siren. No, some stupid butter-bar lieutenant hadn't known which alert to put the base on; there never had been a specific alert sound designated for an arrival through the Threshold Tower. Hell, after Kane and all those fanatics of his up and vanished, the tower had shut down. GDI hadn't even believed that the damn thing would turn on again. So much for that! Now everything from air raid sirens to an NBC (Nuclear-Biological-Chemical) warning was going off.

The base's skeleton crew and R&D staff were running around like their heads were on fire and their asses were catching! Some, if not most, of the R&D staff had headed straight for the NBC suit storage in the right wing of the armory. They knew better than to chance that shit and get the life pulled from their bodies by some sort of radiation or toxin. Europeans – who most of the R&D staff were comprised of – had learned that lesson the hard way in 1990 when the GLA had launched their missile from that cosmodrome in Kazakhstan.

The communications officers and other random non-combat base personnel ran to get gas masks and then activated the base's Advanced Firestorm Generator. It was the next-gen version of the old defense, and unlike the original that only lasted for an hour or so, this one could last for twelve... and Hammerfest had two of them now. There was an obvious problem with depending on that during a siege of course. Supplies could run out. The Commando Corps had thought about that ahead of time and had tunnels that stretched to the captured Nod base. Normally it would be a security risk – but with the base permanently cloaked, it was a hell of an advantage.

Captain William Parker couldn't help but be amused as he made his way to the Command Center to report to the base commander. Oh, this was rich, watching all these idiots running around. As he passed some of the other commandos he could see that they were just as amused as he was – and none of them had bothered doing more than stopping and watching as all the alarms came on at the same time. They'd checked their wrist-mounted EVA units, seen the feed from Italy, and they knew what was going on. If anyone else on the base had stopped to bother checking, they wouldn't be so worried by the sirens. Wild Bill himself was sure that the lieutenant that had kicked them all on at the same time would be getting reamed later by the commander. He should have just sounded a general alarm. Instead, he panicked and put the entire base on edge.

Stepping through the doors of the Command Center, he made his way down to the war room; being directed toward it by an MP that saw him walk in. Apparently things were tense enough that the top brass of GDI had seen fit to make Hammerfest their first response. It was kind of odd, really; normally they didn't do that until later on in a conflict, once things got desperate, or they really wanted something blown the hell up. The ship had crashed inside S.S.I. Territory, and for the last couple decades GDI and S.S.I. had been on good terms. They had free trade, open borders, and only light security to make sure that there was no illegal trafficking of drugs and such across the borders. They worked well together, even if they didn't really talk much. What was the brass planning on doing?

Entering the war room, Parker saw a few task force commanders and the base commander huddled around a table with a holographic map provided by a satellite feed on display. However, it wasn't a map of the area surrounding Hammerfest in the frozen north of Europe. No, it was displaying the area around the downed spacecraft. In an instant, he got a bad feeling. He knew where this was going.

"You wanted to see me, Locke?" The commando finally spoke up, and the entire command staff looked at him, though only the General looked his way. Brigadier General Nathaniel Locke, grandson of the man that had once been William's grandfather's commanding officer in the first war. It was an odd sort of history that their families shared. General Locke – four stars by the time that he died in the second war – had been his grandfather's superior while they chased all over for Dr. Mobius and daughter, and then smashed Project Regenesis... well, during the first war anyway. The data had been saved and came into use during the second war; that's how Nod got their cyborgs.

Their fathers had never met, having worked in different units during the second war; in different theaters of operation even. Parker's father had been in Eastern Europe. Locke's father had been in the Americas. Locke's grandfather had bit it during that war – and not even in relation to any kind of battle. He'd died of a heart attack half way through the war. Of course, Parker's grandfather had passed on by now as well – three days after being promoted to Brigadier General himself. His last words? Locke would be laughing still... He never had been formal to the man.

Nathaniel stood upright, walking over to William with a dire look on his face. Oh yeah, this couldn't possibly be good. Unlike his grandfather, the younger Locke was usually smiling. Granted, he came from a prestigious family and ran an R&D base with the best troops GDI had – why wouldn't he smile? Now though he looked like he'd just gotten some of the worst news he'd ever heard... and William knew exactly what the brass wanted done. It was why Nathaniel would call him down here instead of someone more qualified.

"I assume you know what's happened?" He questioned, glancing to the EVA unit on Will's arm.

"Yeah, I know. Still hard to believe something was able to take that tower down. Even the Ion Cannon never managed to so much as scratch it."

"I know what you mean. It's a bit unnerving, but right now that's not our primary concern. I called you down here because-"

William held up a hand. "Let me guess. I'm going?"

"You and your team, Captain." Locke said, then motioned for him to follow as he stepped back toward the map. "You'll be dropped here." He pointed to a somewhat hilly area about a kilometer from the alien ship's crash site. "I take it you know what this vessel is?"

"Yeah, it's that Scrin ship that General Vega crashed during Tib' War Two, isn't it?" He paused for a minute, "Or... one like it anyway. Didn't Nod's genie destroy that bucket of bolts during the Firestorm Crisis?" He glanced at Locke then, curiously.

"So far as we know, he did. The base was leveled by one of our own Ion Cannons. Nothing was left but a crater." Locke shrugged, "So we have two possibilities, really. One, somehow that ship got out before the base was destroyed – which means it was on auto pilot and went God knows where... or... it's a vessel of the same class. Either way, your mission is the same. Get in, scout it out, find out what's going on, and get out. It's a recon mission only, Havoc. Understand? We're at peace. That means no shooting." He paused, and then looked at Parker sternly, "No stabbing, either."

William laughed, "Alright, alright, I get it." Then he grinned, "And isn't that sweet, finally giving me a code name, huh? And the one gramps used to have. I'm touched, Locke, really."

Locke rolled his eyes. "Maybe I should have called you Michelangelo."

"Maybe, but then I'd never call you anything but Splinter." Parker laughed.

Locke pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, making the shooing motion with his other hand. "Just... go..." He said in that exasperated way.

"Good as gone."

==X==X==X==

Parker's team had been assembled on the flight line by the time that their 'fearless leader' had made his way back outside. Unlike the old Dead Six, William's team only had four members: himself, First Lieutenant Tyler O'Connell, and Second Lieutenants Sandra Baker and Antonius Zhukov. Sitting beside them was a large, black helicopter. It looked like a mutt that resulted from the combination of an old Russian Hind, an Orca Fighter, a Carryall, and the angular black stealth plating of an F-117. The body of the Hind, the VTOL jets of the Orca, the engine setup and cargo capacity of a Carryall, and all of it sloped, slick, and black. The rear bay to the cargo/passenger area was down, and benches had been slid into place for them to sit on. Their armors lined the walls; standing upright and held in place with clamps.

"So you all know what the mission is?" Parker asked as he stepped up to them,

"Yeah, we have the general idea. We're just snooping; right?" O'Connell answered up, shouldering the rig that held his weapons; the other two simply held the rigs in one hand or the other, though all four of them were dressed in a sleek, black suit. The suits were a biometric interface that connected their nervous systems to the armor they would be wearing.

"Yeah, pretty much." Parker replied, then glanced to the pilot of R&D's latest little toy as he stepped over to them. "Does she fly?" He asked, thumbing toward the tricked out whirly-bird.

"Like a dream, Captain." The pilot said as the base's sirens finally cut out, and then the general alert was sounded shortly before they all fell silent. "Looks like someone finally got the right idea."

"Yeah," William replied, glancing to the nearest speaker, "a bit late." He looked back to their pilot then. "Alright, let's get this show on the road."

==X==X==X==

"Hammerfest Control, this Ghost Flight, headed toward hot-zone LZ. About to go active cloak, so we'll be dropping off your satellite view and going on radio silence as soon as we near the border. Prepare to switch to tachyon beam tracker to follow our movement per the General's orders."

"Ghost Flight, this is Hammerfest Control, switching to tachyon beam tracker now. Good luck, and God speed. Hammerfest Control, out."

The SAT-1 (Stealth Air Transport, Model 1) shot through the sky with all the speed of an Orca Fighter, but with the same gentle ride as one of the Bombers. A gentle whine came from the engines as it cruised along through the sky, undetectable even on GDI's own radar, and as soon as it was a mile from the border... its cloaking device was activated and it became invisible in every sense of the word. It was another aircraft designed primarily for use by Hammerfest in case of a siege; a way to get supplies into the cloaked Nod base without alerting anyone to the fact that some other vehicle had suddenly vanished. It was only one of five so far, but plans called for two full squadrons of thirty-two.

In the back, despite the gentle ride, it wasn't exactly the most comfortable ride ever. The benches were alright, but Sandra was scowling just a bit. "Benches? Really?"

"What's wrong, ginger?" Antonius smirked, speaking in his light Chechen accent, "That tender little British ass of yours not comfortable? I could help you out. The girls say lap is nice to be in."

The ginger-haired Brit glared at him, but then just smiled and shook her head. She'd gone straight into the officer's corps, and then right to commando training because of her technical skills and her marksmanship scores. She was the youngest member of the team, and Antonius was actually the oldest. The old Czechoslovakian had enlisted with GDI's regular infantry corps, and was older than Captain Parker by about eight years. Parker was only three years older than O'Connell, and O'Connell was five years older than she was. She had just turned twenty-one last month. She often forgot that Antonius' sense of humor was a bit more... mature... than most.

When the red light came on in the back of the transport, that was the signal to suit up, and the four of them stood, moving to their armors. "Alright, once we're on the ground, we're splitting into three teams." O'Connell spoke – Parker usually left the planning to him, especially since O'Connell was good at it... and usually gave him the job that he wanted anyway, "Captain Parker is going to be checking out the ship."

Score. Parker thought to himself.

"I'll be taking a look at their perimeter around the craft." O'Connell continued, "And you two will be checking out the motor pool they're setting up, as well as the pods that landed around the crash site. Questions?"

"Just one." Parker spoke, "What channel we setting the comm sets too?"

"Channel Five. It should be clear this far out." Parker and the other two nodded, and then all moved toward their armors. Parker and O'Connell's armors were on the port side of the SAT-1, and Baker and Zhukov's armors were on the starboard side. Green lights lit up above the armors, and certain parts of the interior glowed a soft cyan.

Glancing over, Antonius could see the slightly hesitant look on Sandra's face as she stared into the armor – the front split open and waiting for her to get inside. It wasn't her first time. In fact, she had probably the most practice time out of all of them. However, this was her first time going behind the lines. She'd never been in real combat, and even the slightest possibility of it was something that worried her. She'd been more than happy to go on the mission with her team, but only now was it starting to be... well... real to her.

The strong hand that touched her biometric suit-clad shoulder made her jump ever-so-slightly, but her anxiety seemed to fade as she looked up at the middle-aged Czech beside her. "Hey..." He said softly, "I'll be right there with you... Everything will be okay. I promise." Sandra smiled softly and gave a little nod, though was surprised when he placed a chaste kiss atop her head. "If anything ever happened to you, Amelia would never forgive me." He chuckled, and Sandra smiled, thinking of the older man's little girl. The whole team had met her once, and the little thing had taken to her. Apparently even asked after her frequently; acted like she was her big sister.

"You're probably right..." Sandra smiled, "...she wouldn't. That's also why we can't be together." She smirked a little, "It just wouldn't work out. Wouldn't be best for her with how she thinks of me." She winked.

"Oh, Sandra, my dearest... you wound me." He replied, his hands going to his heart as if he'd been stabbed, "Using my own blood to halt true love's advance... for shame." He grinned then, watching as Sandra turned, stepping backward into the armor, smiling at him as it started to seal around her, a hiss and the sounds of locking mechanisms coming from the power armor. Once she was in hers, he moved to his own and stepped in the same way.

The armor closed, enveloping him in its protective plates and layers, bonding with his nervous system and amplifying his strength. The casing around and in front of his head closed then, the last bit moving into place like the visor of a medieval knight's armored helmet. His world was plunged into darkness and silence then, until suddenly the suit's sensor systems kicked on, and the HUD came up on the inside of the visor, showing him the world once more. The clamps were released then, and the four commandos moved to grab their weapons as they neared their landing zone.