Chapter-1
Fox was hot, sweaty and thirsty. He hated the jungle and asked himself for the
thousandth time, why couldn't he have been put on air support? It was what he was
good at, so why wasn't it what he was assigned?
None the less, he had a job to do and by god he was going to do it. Despite the heat,
he some how managed to stay calm and alert. He had Fara on point, because her sense
of smell was sharper than his. In theory at least that would provide them with some
early warning of an ambush. In contrast to Fox's discomfort, Fara seemed to be in her
element out here.
Fara had always been the out-doorsy type. She was always the kind who would go
adventuring out in the woods or camping out with friends. Suffice it to say that,
finding other female friends who were into camping was a little tricky. That was how
she had met Fox and Bill when they were children.
Bill was also the out-doorsy type, but he seemed way too on-edge to enjoy himself.
He had a constant grimace of concentration on his face, glancing around all the time.
Fox could appreciate wanting to keep one's self on their toes, but if Bill didn't mellow
out a little, he might as well join Cornerian state ballet company.
Fox smiled at the thought of Bill in a tutu and prancing around like a lunatic. As much
as Fox disliked it out here, he had to wonder how Slippy was coping. When he had
drawn up this team, Fox had believed that they were still going to be assigned to air
support and so chose Slippy to provide electronic warfare cover.
But as it was, they had been assigned to Special Forces and were presently trudging
through the jungle on a recon sweep ahead of the main platoon's advance. He liked
Slippy, but he was a little too "chipper" and energetic for his own good. His almost
total inability to stay quiet made him a liability in this situation. Fox thanked God for
the heavy com-unit that Slippy was carrying to keep from hopping all over the place,
like a hyperactive ping-pong ball.
Coming to a small clearing, Fox raised his hand and signalled a halt. After slogging
though the tangled forest for what seemed like an eternity, He reckoned they had
earned a break.
"Okay, every body take a knee. We got fifteen before we finish our sweep," He said
sinking down to his haunches and taking a swig form his canteen. With a sigh of
relief, Slippy swung the heavy com-link pack off of his back and sat down with his
back to a tree.
Bill on the other hand stayed standing, his gaze scanning across the jungle as if he
wanted to be ambushed, just so that he could get it over and done with. "We shouldn't
be stopped here, it's too exposed," Bill said, his thumb hovering over the safety catch
on his rifle.
Fox thought about it for a moment. Bill did have a point. The Clearing was pretty
exposed. Turning to Fara he said, "You getting anything?" Fara sniffed the air a
couple of times and replied, "Well apart from, mud, trees and Bill's socks, nothing."
"Hmmm, well we should probably be sure. Slippy, see if you can find a better
position on the map," He said, but Slippy didn't reply. Turning round, Fox swept his
gaze around the whole clearing. Slippy had apparently vanished.
"Where did he go to?" Fox said to himself out loud. Slippy's rifle and backpack were
still lying by the tree that he had been sitting against. "He's probably chasing bugs
again," Fara said, rather despairingly. "Yeah, well we better go find him. Spread out,
standard search pattern, fifty yards each," Fox ordered, picking up his rifle and
strapping on his helmet. Bill and Fara nodded and each took a compass point.
Maybe if he'd been a little more observant, Fox might have noticed the glint of light
on a riflescope. Hidden in amongst the dense undergrowth, the canine sniper watched
the three of them intently as they split up to search for the unconscious frog lying at
his feet. Slippy had been picked off easily enough. The others would not be so simple
to deal with. Choosing his next target, he melted away into jungle's fading light.
Bill was even more on edge now. The jungle all around him was a far cry from the
wide-open planes of Corneria or the rolling steppes of Katina where he grew up.
When you were a pilot you could see your enemy coming. But here in the deep forest,
he couldn't see for more than ten feet ahead of him and that made him nervous, if not
positively claustrophobic.
"When I find that slimy little twerp, I am going to kick his ass so hard…" He
grumbled, gritting his teeth. A loud screeching sound behind him made him whirl
round, gun raised and his pores pumping neat adrenaline. Sat on a log, was the biggest
damn bug that Bill had ever seen. It shook its large multi-coloured wings and
screeched at him periodically.
Bill exhaled a big breath that he didn't even know he was holding and said, "Jeez,
Fox is right. I really should calm down before I have a heart attack." Lowering his
rifle, he slowly turned to return to his search grid. A moment later, the jungle came
alive. Something that seemed to blur with the surrounding greenery, flashed out in
front of him for a second, then everything went black.
Fara made her way deftly through the dense trees. Her small size made her perfect for
this kind of terrain. But all the same, finding Slippy was not going to all that easy.
"Green frog, green uniform, green jungle. Why does every thing have to be green?"
She muttered to herself, frustrated at having to be chasing after one little frog.
Through the chattering of the forest, Fara could hear the sound of running water
nearby. As an amphibian, Slippy was naturally drawn towards water, so she headed
towards the sound in hopes of finding him.
Up ahead she found a fast flowing stream, but no Slippy. The stream was maybe ankle
deep, but still pretty wide. The water was clear and glassy looking, so Fara decided to
refill her canteen and take a breather for a few moments. Crouching down and setting
her rifle to one side, she cupped some water in her hands and splashed it over her face.
The water was as cool and refreshing as it looked, with sparkling sunlight playing
across the surface and the trees all around reflected in it.
Dipping in her hands to splash some more water on her face, she noticed something
reflected in the water's surface. There was something moving behind her, but she
couldn't make out a shape. There was defiantly some thing there but none of the trees
were moving. She then slowly reached for her rifle, laying her hand carefully over the
handgrip and flicking off the safety. She then suddenly spun round, rifle raised as the
firing chamber charged with the familiar rising hum and found herself faced
with…nothing.
The clearing was completely empty, but she still kept the rifle raised and scanned
about the area. She definitely saw something move, she was sure of it. Backing away
cautiously, she moved towards a large rock where she could take cover if who ever it
was decided to make their move.
In a blur of motion, something exploded out of the shadows and knocked the rifle out
of Fara's hands, kicking her in the back of the knee and throwing her to the ground.
What ever it was, it moved with blinding speed. She still couldn't make out its exact
shape, but she could see it moving. Lashing out with one foot, she hit it low, throwing
it off balance. She then sprang up and hit it again with a front kick that knocked it
over into the stream. Hitting the water, Fara could finally make out a shape as her
attacker's thermoptic camouflage malfunctioned, trying desperately to hide itself
against water.
The suit went a whole series of scrambled colours, before just shutting down and
turning to its default black. The figure stood up and charged, launching himself at
Fara with a powerful side kick and following up with the other leg in a roundhouse
kick aimed at her head.
Fara blocked the first kick, ducked the second and threw a punch and backhand
combo, but was herself blocked. The figure in the black suit then kicked Fara in the
side while her guard was down, hitting her repeatedly in the ribs. She then felt
something crack and a grinding pain shot through her chest.
Fuelled by a wave of pain and rage, Fara kneed her opponent sharply in the groin,
knocking him back a few steps with a loud yelping cry. Grabbing the opportunity, she
quickly stooped low and retrieved her rifle, bringing it to bear on her stricken
assailant.
But before she could pull the trigger, the attacker drew a pair of swords. They were
similar to one another but different. Both swords were light broad swords with gold
handles and hilts, but one blade had blue tint to it, the other a coppery red. Moving
with the same blurring speed, he swiped with red sword first, biting into the barrel of
Fara's rifle.
Then without even breaking stride, he the swung the blue blade, smacking her in the
side of the head with the flat of the blade, knocking her to the ground, almost fainting.
As Fara hit the ground, the pain in her chest ran together with the pain in her head like
melted wax. Her vision faded, as she watch the stranger sheath both swords on his
back and limp over to her. As the world slipped away from her, she noticed his bright
shining blue eyes behind the visor of his helmet. "Sorry, nothing personal," He said in
a calm, dispassionate voice. Then she fell unconscious.
Fox stumbled over a log and landed flat on his face in the mud. Just how the hell had
he gotten into this mess. He was a pilot, the best damn pilot at the academy and here
he was slinking through the jungle like some kind of little bug. This was not for him;
this was not what he was good at.
Pushing himself up off the ground and wiping some of the muck off of his face, he let
loose a barrage of swearing that would redden the ears of even a veteran marine.
Rearing up onto his knees, he balled up his fists and shook them wildly at the sky,
screaming, "What the hell am I doing here? Whichsonof a bitch! is responsible for
this? Why can't the sun just spontaneously destabilise so I can die right now in a
searing blast of plasma?"
Full of rage, Fox beat his fist against the log he had tripped over, as if beating the log
to within an inch of its life would make every thing go his way. After five minutes of
hitting the wood, Fox realised the futility of his actions and just settled back for a
moment.
His hand throbbed and ached. Examining it closely, He hoped he hadn't broken his
hand. Aside from affecting his performance, it would be embarrassing enough to have
to explain how he injured himself having a tantrum. His hand wasn't broken, but it
was bruised and covered with mud and lichen from the log. In amongst the black and
green sludge covering his hand, Fox could make out a small spot of red on his palm.
"Oh shit, I must have cut myself on thorn or something. I really hope none of this
gakk got into it," He thought to himself. He shifted himself to get a better look, but as
his hand moved, the red dot stayed in place. Waving his hand from side to side a
couple of times, the dot still remained in place.
Suddenly realisation and horror hit him like a ten-ton cement lorry. Fox hurled
himself to one side as two shots tore through the greenery and blasted the log he had
been wailing on in to a thousand little bits of wood. Quickly regaining his footing, he
followed the red-dot laser back to its source. Firing an assault flare from his rifle's
under-slung grenade launcher, he averted his eyes for a moment as the powerful
electromagnetic and photon charge detonated with a blinding flash.
Before the dazzle from the assault flare had faded, Fox sprinted forward, rifle poised
and teeth bared. He hated the jungle and he despised infantry work, but there was way
no way in hell he was dying a ground-pounder. Catching sight of the barrel of a long-
rifle, he pulled the trigger of his own assault rifle and emptied the full clip at it.
Dropping the clip out of the magazine port just behind the handgrip, he stalked
forward to make sure he'd bagged his sniper. Pushing aside a branch with his rifle, he
was shocked to find just a long-rifle propped up on some rocks with squeeze trigger
attached to the lock. "A decoy. It's a goddamned decoy," Fox said out loud to himself.
Seconds later, a great black shape dropped out of a nearby tree, in flurry of movement
Fox was knocked to the ground. Something flashed, like fire reflecting on steel and
something sharp tore through Fox's leg. Screaming in pain, he looked down to see
four feet of shining blue steel skewering his leg, pinning him the forest floor.
Blood seeped like dark, red wine from Fox's leg. It soaked into his muddy fatigues
and trickled away into the soil. He could see his own face, twisted up in a grimace of
pain, reflected in the sword's keen blade.
Looking up, Fox saw his attacker. Behind the visor of the matt-black helmet of his
stealth suit, his eyes seemed to burn like blue fire. He was canine, of that Fox was
sure, but that was all he could tell. The attacker stood with his weight on the pommel
on the sword he had through Fox's leg, preventing him moving without causing
further injury.
"You and your team are now dead. I suggest you evacuate the engagement area and
report back to Colonel Wren for debriefing," The canine said, cold as before. Pulling
his sword out of Fox's leg quickly and cleanly, he then tossed Fox a med-kit. Turning
away and recalibrating his thermoptic camouflage, he was once again just a blur of
motion in the jungle.
"The exercise is over mister McCloud. You've lost," Came his voice as he departed.
He wasn't taunting Fox, he was simply stating a fact.
To Be Continued…
Fox was hot, sweaty and thirsty. He hated the jungle and asked himself for the
thousandth time, why couldn't he have been put on air support? It was what he was
good at, so why wasn't it what he was assigned?
None the less, he had a job to do and by god he was going to do it. Despite the heat,
he some how managed to stay calm and alert. He had Fara on point, because her sense
of smell was sharper than his. In theory at least that would provide them with some
early warning of an ambush. In contrast to Fox's discomfort, Fara seemed to be in her
element out here.
Fara had always been the out-doorsy type. She was always the kind who would go
adventuring out in the woods or camping out with friends. Suffice it to say that,
finding other female friends who were into camping was a little tricky. That was how
she had met Fox and Bill when they were children.
Bill was also the out-doorsy type, but he seemed way too on-edge to enjoy himself.
He had a constant grimace of concentration on his face, glancing around all the time.
Fox could appreciate wanting to keep one's self on their toes, but if Bill didn't mellow
out a little, he might as well join Cornerian state ballet company.
Fox smiled at the thought of Bill in a tutu and prancing around like a lunatic. As much
as Fox disliked it out here, he had to wonder how Slippy was coping. When he had
drawn up this team, Fox had believed that they were still going to be assigned to air
support and so chose Slippy to provide electronic warfare cover.
But as it was, they had been assigned to Special Forces and were presently trudging
through the jungle on a recon sweep ahead of the main platoon's advance. He liked
Slippy, but he was a little too "chipper" and energetic for his own good. His almost
total inability to stay quiet made him a liability in this situation. Fox thanked God for
the heavy com-unit that Slippy was carrying to keep from hopping all over the place,
like a hyperactive ping-pong ball.
Coming to a small clearing, Fox raised his hand and signalled a halt. After slogging
though the tangled forest for what seemed like an eternity, He reckoned they had
earned a break.
"Okay, every body take a knee. We got fifteen before we finish our sweep," He said
sinking down to his haunches and taking a swig form his canteen. With a sigh of
relief, Slippy swung the heavy com-link pack off of his back and sat down with his
back to a tree.
Bill on the other hand stayed standing, his gaze scanning across the jungle as if he
wanted to be ambushed, just so that he could get it over and done with. "We shouldn't
be stopped here, it's too exposed," Bill said, his thumb hovering over the safety catch
on his rifle.
Fox thought about it for a moment. Bill did have a point. The Clearing was pretty
exposed. Turning to Fara he said, "You getting anything?" Fara sniffed the air a
couple of times and replied, "Well apart from, mud, trees and Bill's socks, nothing."
"Hmmm, well we should probably be sure. Slippy, see if you can find a better
position on the map," He said, but Slippy didn't reply. Turning round, Fox swept his
gaze around the whole clearing. Slippy had apparently vanished.
"Where did he go to?" Fox said to himself out loud. Slippy's rifle and backpack were
still lying by the tree that he had been sitting against. "He's probably chasing bugs
again," Fara said, rather despairingly. "Yeah, well we better go find him. Spread out,
standard search pattern, fifty yards each," Fox ordered, picking up his rifle and
strapping on his helmet. Bill and Fara nodded and each took a compass point.
Maybe if he'd been a little more observant, Fox might have noticed the glint of light
on a riflescope. Hidden in amongst the dense undergrowth, the canine sniper watched
the three of them intently as they split up to search for the unconscious frog lying at
his feet. Slippy had been picked off easily enough. The others would not be so simple
to deal with. Choosing his next target, he melted away into jungle's fading light.
Bill was even more on edge now. The jungle all around him was a far cry from the
wide-open planes of Corneria or the rolling steppes of Katina where he grew up.
When you were a pilot you could see your enemy coming. But here in the deep forest,
he couldn't see for more than ten feet ahead of him and that made him nervous, if not
positively claustrophobic.
"When I find that slimy little twerp, I am going to kick his ass so hard…" He
grumbled, gritting his teeth. A loud screeching sound behind him made him whirl
round, gun raised and his pores pumping neat adrenaline. Sat on a log, was the biggest
damn bug that Bill had ever seen. It shook its large multi-coloured wings and
screeched at him periodically.
Bill exhaled a big breath that he didn't even know he was holding and said, "Jeez,
Fox is right. I really should calm down before I have a heart attack." Lowering his
rifle, he slowly turned to return to his search grid. A moment later, the jungle came
alive. Something that seemed to blur with the surrounding greenery, flashed out in
front of him for a second, then everything went black.
Fara made her way deftly through the dense trees. Her small size made her perfect for
this kind of terrain. But all the same, finding Slippy was not going to all that easy.
"Green frog, green uniform, green jungle. Why does every thing have to be green?"
She muttered to herself, frustrated at having to be chasing after one little frog.
Through the chattering of the forest, Fara could hear the sound of running water
nearby. As an amphibian, Slippy was naturally drawn towards water, so she headed
towards the sound in hopes of finding him.
Up ahead she found a fast flowing stream, but no Slippy. The stream was maybe ankle
deep, but still pretty wide. The water was clear and glassy looking, so Fara decided to
refill her canteen and take a breather for a few moments. Crouching down and setting
her rifle to one side, she cupped some water in her hands and splashed it over her face.
The water was as cool and refreshing as it looked, with sparkling sunlight playing
across the surface and the trees all around reflected in it.
Dipping in her hands to splash some more water on her face, she noticed something
reflected in the water's surface. There was something moving behind her, but she
couldn't make out a shape. There was defiantly some thing there but none of the trees
were moving. She then slowly reached for her rifle, laying her hand carefully over the
handgrip and flicking off the safety. She then suddenly spun round, rifle raised as the
firing chamber charged with the familiar rising hum and found herself faced
with…nothing.
The clearing was completely empty, but she still kept the rifle raised and scanned
about the area. She definitely saw something move, she was sure of it. Backing away
cautiously, she moved towards a large rock where she could take cover if who ever it
was decided to make their move.
In a blur of motion, something exploded out of the shadows and knocked the rifle out
of Fara's hands, kicking her in the back of the knee and throwing her to the ground.
What ever it was, it moved with blinding speed. She still couldn't make out its exact
shape, but she could see it moving. Lashing out with one foot, she hit it low, throwing
it off balance. She then sprang up and hit it again with a front kick that knocked it
over into the stream. Hitting the water, Fara could finally make out a shape as her
attacker's thermoptic camouflage malfunctioned, trying desperately to hide itself
against water.
The suit went a whole series of scrambled colours, before just shutting down and
turning to its default black. The figure stood up and charged, launching himself at
Fara with a powerful side kick and following up with the other leg in a roundhouse
kick aimed at her head.
Fara blocked the first kick, ducked the second and threw a punch and backhand
combo, but was herself blocked. The figure in the black suit then kicked Fara in the
side while her guard was down, hitting her repeatedly in the ribs. She then felt
something crack and a grinding pain shot through her chest.
Fuelled by a wave of pain and rage, Fara kneed her opponent sharply in the groin,
knocking him back a few steps with a loud yelping cry. Grabbing the opportunity, she
quickly stooped low and retrieved her rifle, bringing it to bear on her stricken
assailant.
But before she could pull the trigger, the attacker drew a pair of swords. They were
similar to one another but different. Both swords were light broad swords with gold
handles and hilts, but one blade had blue tint to it, the other a coppery red. Moving
with the same blurring speed, he swiped with red sword first, biting into the barrel of
Fara's rifle.
Then without even breaking stride, he the swung the blue blade, smacking her in the
side of the head with the flat of the blade, knocking her to the ground, almost fainting.
As Fara hit the ground, the pain in her chest ran together with the pain in her head like
melted wax. Her vision faded, as she watch the stranger sheath both swords on his
back and limp over to her. As the world slipped away from her, she noticed his bright
shining blue eyes behind the visor of his helmet. "Sorry, nothing personal," He said in
a calm, dispassionate voice. Then she fell unconscious.
Fox stumbled over a log and landed flat on his face in the mud. Just how the hell had
he gotten into this mess. He was a pilot, the best damn pilot at the academy and here
he was slinking through the jungle like some kind of little bug. This was not for him;
this was not what he was good at.
Pushing himself up off the ground and wiping some of the muck off of his face, he let
loose a barrage of swearing that would redden the ears of even a veteran marine.
Rearing up onto his knees, he balled up his fists and shook them wildly at the sky,
screaming, "What the hell am I doing here? Whichsonof a bitch! is responsible for
this? Why can't the sun just spontaneously destabilise so I can die right now in a
searing blast of plasma?"
Full of rage, Fox beat his fist against the log he had tripped over, as if beating the log
to within an inch of its life would make every thing go his way. After five minutes of
hitting the wood, Fox realised the futility of his actions and just settled back for a
moment.
His hand throbbed and ached. Examining it closely, He hoped he hadn't broken his
hand. Aside from affecting his performance, it would be embarrassing enough to have
to explain how he injured himself having a tantrum. His hand wasn't broken, but it
was bruised and covered with mud and lichen from the log. In amongst the black and
green sludge covering his hand, Fox could make out a small spot of red on his palm.
"Oh shit, I must have cut myself on thorn or something. I really hope none of this
gakk got into it," He thought to himself. He shifted himself to get a better look, but as
his hand moved, the red dot stayed in place. Waving his hand from side to side a
couple of times, the dot still remained in place.
Suddenly realisation and horror hit him like a ten-ton cement lorry. Fox hurled
himself to one side as two shots tore through the greenery and blasted the log he had
been wailing on in to a thousand little bits of wood. Quickly regaining his footing, he
followed the red-dot laser back to its source. Firing an assault flare from his rifle's
under-slung grenade launcher, he averted his eyes for a moment as the powerful
electromagnetic and photon charge detonated with a blinding flash.
Before the dazzle from the assault flare had faded, Fox sprinted forward, rifle poised
and teeth bared. He hated the jungle and he despised infantry work, but there was way
no way in hell he was dying a ground-pounder. Catching sight of the barrel of a long-
rifle, he pulled the trigger of his own assault rifle and emptied the full clip at it.
Dropping the clip out of the magazine port just behind the handgrip, he stalked
forward to make sure he'd bagged his sniper. Pushing aside a branch with his rifle, he
was shocked to find just a long-rifle propped up on some rocks with squeeze trigger
attached to the lock. "A decoy. It's a goddamned decoy," Fox said out loud to himself.
Seconds later, a great black shape dropped out of a nearby tree, in flurry of movement
Fox was knocked to the ground. Something flashed, like fire reflecting on steel and
something sharp tore through Fox's leg. Screaming in pain, he looked down to see
four feet of shining blue steel skewering his leg, pinning him the forest floor.
Blood seeped like dark, red wine from Fox's leg. It soaked into his muddy fatigues
and trickled away into the soil. He could see his own face, twisted up in a grimace of
pain, reflected in the sword's keen blade.
Looking up, Fox saw his attacker. Behind the visor of the matt-black helmet of his
stealth suit, his eyes seemed to burn like blue fire. He was canine, of that Fox was
sure, but that was all he could tell. The attacker stood with his weight on the pommel
on the sword he had through Fox's leg, preventing him moving without causing
further injury.
"You and your team are now dead. I suggest you evacuate the engagement area and
report back to Colonel Wren for debriefing," The canine said, cold as before. Pulling
his sword out of Fox's leg quickly and cleanly, he then tossed Fox a med-kit. Turning
away and recalibrating his thermoptic camouflage, he was once again just a blur of
motion in the jungle.
"The exercise is over mister McCloud. You've lost," Came his voice as he departed.
He wasn't taunting Fox, he was simply stating a fact.
To Be Continued…