Author's Notes: I did some research to figure out the likely cartridges used in the various up-scaled rifles utilized by the AS's to find out the actual combat effectiveness of each. As a rough factor, AS weapons are roughly five times larger in dimensions then their hand held counterparts and approximately one-hundred-and-twenty-five times as heavy. As an inference this means that the Shipunov BK-540 that is used by the RK-92 Savage and seems roughly patterned after the AKS-74U weighs a whopping 750 lb. unloaded. The massive 40mm rifle used by the M9 Gernsback and M6 Bushnell weigh in at roughly 1,250 lb. unloaded.

Some specific combat abilities of each weapon are as follows.

Bofors ASG96-B 57mm smooth-bore gun

Ammunition: 57x438mm shells usually a mix of APDS and HE-Frag.

Armor Penetration: 110mm at 1,000 meters

Ericon Controlaves GDC-B 40mm AS Rifle

Ammunition: 40x364mm shells usually a mix of APDS and HEI-T

Armor Penetration: 35mm at 1,000 meters

Otto/Melala "Boxer" scattershot cannon

Ammunition: 90x600mm shells (Officially labeled 57mm, considering a 5x increase in bore from a 12 gauge shotgun (18.5mm) results in 92.5mm this is more likely)

Armor Penetration: 190mm at 1,000 meters with Sabot or slug, 30-40mm with buckshot or frag

Shipunov BK-540 37mm AS Rifle

Ammunition: 37x198mm shells usually a mix of OR-167 Frag-T and BR-167 AP-T

Armor Penetration: 30mm at 1,0000 meters (40mm with HVAP ammo)

Using that information we can extrapolate on some other weapons that likely are in use by the various groups. It's likely that soviets have a weapon comparable to the Boxer shot cannon which would fire the same 100mm round used by the BMP-3 Infantry Fighting Vehicle this would likely be similar in design to an enlarged Saiga-12 or TOZ pump action shotgun. The soviets would also have their own 57mm cannon for Snipers and marksman though specialist roles and equipment are likely less common in Soviet doctrine then American doctrine. The automatic pistols used by Zy-98 Shadow shown in TSR and the Cordarls are likely 23mm caliber weapons using a pistol form of the gun used in the Zsu-23 Shilka AAA cannon or 30mm that fire the same cartridge as the BMP-2. Most of the main AS weapons are unusual in that they use calibers that have been phased out in most nations. The Shipunov 37mm for example uses a caliber that was discontinued in the 1950s from further use. 37mm, 40mm, 57mm, and 90mm shells are all much rarer than they once were in the 1950s and 1940s. The 90mm shell for the boxer is actually a World War II era flak shell, probably with the nose squared off so it can be cycled through a pump action. It's roughly comparable to the infamous 88mm flak gun.

Now… a word on what this means. An Arm Slave can reliably engage an Infantry Fighting Vehicle and expect to win (BMPs have only 30 to 40mm of armor) but they're not looking at a one shot kill against main battle tanks unless they're up close and firing down on the turret or fire a volley of fire that knocks out the less protected parts of the tank such as IR scopes and so forth or hits vital components like the gun sight or engine deck. An Arm Slave is more mobile than tracked vehicles and can hide in forests and foliage unlike a helicopter. In combat both attack helicopters and Arm Slaves have a similar function, just one is better in urban or forests and one is better in open terrain.

Wow, I'm starting to sound like Shinji! Back to the story!

Sword and Shield

Chapter 4: Gathering Dangers

Danger 1. n. (obsolete) Ability to harm; someone's dominion or power to harm or penalize. See In one's danger, below. 2. n. (obsolete) Liability. 3. n. (obsolete) Difficulty; sparingness. 4. n. (obsolete) Coyness; disdainful behavior. 5. n. (obsolete) A place where one is in the hands of the enemy. 6. n. Exposure to liable harm. 7. n. An instance or cause of liable harm. 8. n. Mischief.

24 March 2000, 20:34 hrs.

Fayzabad, Badakhshan Province, Afghanistan

The Home of the General Majhid

Majhid stood and looked out across the darkening cityscape, the curtain held roughly to the side. He slowly chewed his lip in thought. According to the woman Kashim was dead, but Majhid was uncertain whether to believe that.

That boy has survived many things that would have broken or killed others, merely adding a nuclear blast to the list would be like checking a box on his score card. He took a deep breath and scowled slightly smelling the distinctive acrid odor of Hashish being carried up from the town below by the wind. It dulls the mind far more than the stress relief it brings.

"Have you told me everything?" General Majhid asked quietly, his eyes focusing out amongst the stars.

"Yes." The woman's voice was soft, a result of the painkillers more than her natural state. The bonesetter had done his best with the wounds he'd inflicted and those they found beneath her armor, now she was clad in simple grey trousers, a long qemis shirt, and a cotton hijab was wrapped around her head. The burqa was not a required garment under Majhid's rule for women, and he himself had tutored his daughters in English and other languages. Education was a rite of all in his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair before readjusting his pakul cap atop his head and glanced back at her.

"Your wounds will heal given time. If what you say about yourself and these whispered is true, you are a most valuable individual, but I am uncertain if your skills will be of any use to us." He ran a hand through his curly hair for a moment. "Though I am certain the Soviets or Americans would see you as quite valuable."

He smiled slightly as the woman's eyes widened, a hint of terror at the thought of being traded to either group seemed to appear in her eyes.

"I take it that would not be preferable to you." He stated simply.

"No."

Majhid nodded slowly and glanced out the window. "I am certain you are skilled as an AS operator, and my men could always need further training. Would such a position be suitable to you?"

"Work as an instructor for you?" She asked quietly, her eyes studying him for a long moment. "I could do as you ask, my life is purposeless since the death of… Amalgam."

Majhid knew that Amalgam was not what had died, the one she called Leonard would better fit the sentence she had spoken. He let the silence grow for a moment.

"Than by Allah's grace you have fallen into my lap, and I've given you something of a purpose." He rubbed his beard once again then stepped out the door and sighed, glancing up into the twinkling light of the first stars of the night.

"Kashim… are you truly gone or have you survived once again? I must say I'm proud of you." He smiled to himself and glanced at one of his couriers sleeping beside the doorway, an empty satchel case acting as his pillow. "Not that long ago that was you, and now you're out saving our world. I always knew you were meant for more than that life."

I would like to meet this Kaname Chidori, but I am uncertain if that is possible. I have so few contacts out in the world at large.

"Farzen!" He called out and a young man who looked to be eighteen stepped up and saluted smartly.

"General!"

"I have a job for you it will be a bit difficult." He smiled slightly at the young man. "How is your Japanese?"

"Rusty, General, and of no use here." He adjusted his pakul cap and shrugged. "Kashim and Kalinin alone spoke it for me to practice upon."

"I have received word of Kashim." He spoke in English and glanced at the information he had collected.

"Really?" The young man brightened as he spoke and smiled in the dim light.

"Yes, it seems he's made quite a name for himself outside our little world." The afghan general smiled and shook his head. "The woman that was brought before me knew of him, and wanted to kill me because of it."

"I see." Farzen shrugged. "What has he been up to?"

"You remember the rumors of an organization called Mithril?" General Majhid asked as he walked along the wall of the small compound.

"Some group by that name intercepted a nuclear weapon the government wanted." Farzen said as he adjusted the rifle on his back and glanced out over the dim lights of the city.

"Kashim was part of that team." General Majhid smiled. "According to Sabine, he's been going by Sousuke Sagara. It seems the poor boy has even found love."

"Kashim and a woman?" Farzen laughed and bent over. "Only Allah himself could make that happen!"

"Indeed." Majhid shook his head slowly and glanced back at Farzen. "But it has happened, he's spent a great deal of time working to rescue her, apparently Amalgam made the mistake of abducting her."

"And now it's in ruins no doubt." Farzen laughed again. "So, what do you want me to do?"

"I'd like you to find her, her name is Kaname Chidori. Amalgam even knew her home address." He pulled a scrap of paper from a pocket and handed it over. "Find her, if he's alive you'll find him. I'd like to resume contact with my son, if he is dead I would wish to offer my condolences."

"Yes General, I'll see about it right away." He pursed his lips and Majhid could see the young man's mind begin to turn about the problem of getting to Japan. He was a courier, had been for years, and delivering messages was his specialty. He smiled slightly. "I believe I can make it there in a day or two."

"Good."

Across the city an explosion sent a plume of smoke through the air as a dark shape flashed overhead followed by a string of blinding white flares. Green tracers chased the Su-25 Frogfoot across the sky before a second explosion echoed from the city below and Majhid sighed.

"They're starting early tonight."

24 March 2000, 07:51 hrs.

Elmendorf Air Force Base, State of Alaska, United States

Dispersal Center for the 3rd Wing, 11th Air Force

Four F-15E Strike Eagles sat out on the pad, their four pilots and four RIOs sat in the heated confines of the building in their full G-suits. Before them their squadron commander paced before a whiteboard pointing out different aspects of their training mission.

"Right, now you will approach the initial point at angels ten, then drop down to low level for the transit through this valley to the—"

A blast of cold air made the pilots shift in their seats to see who had stepped inside. They stopped and froze as they saw an Air Force General slowly begin removing his coat. "Major, the training sortie is canceled. How soon can your squadron be at action readiness?"

The squadron commander that had been running through the mission gaped for a moment. "Twelve hours sir, we've got four write offs currently waiting for the mechanics to fix though."

"Check them, make sure what's broke is something vital, if it isn't ready them. We'll need every plane we can lay our hands on." Scowling he glanced down at the pilots. "Base wide briefing in the convocation center at 10:00 hours sharp."

"Yes sir." The major said as he glanced at the pilots. What the hell is going on?

24 March 2000, 08:01 hrs.

Fort Richardson, State of Alaska, United States

25th Division Arsenal and Vehicle Park

Specialist David Johnson watched as the ordnance crew opened box after of box of 40x364mm ammunition and manhandled the rounds into a clip for the Ericon Controlaves GDC-B 40mm AS Rifle sitting into the back of a truck. After twenty rounds of mixed armor piercing incendiary and high explosive incendiary was pushed inside they moved to the next magazine and repeated the procedure. There were also ten round magazines of the 57x438mm shell used in the Bofors ASG96-B 57mm smooth-bore gun that the team marksman in each Arm Slave unit used. Monomolecular cutters were loaded in heavy crates into the back of other trucks while canisters of shot for boxer shot cannons were loaded in the back of others.

David breathed out watching his breath condense in the air before him. Just months earlier he had participated in an assault on an Amalgam alongside a detachment from Mithril, now if the rumor going around the base as to the reason for the mobilization could be believed, they were off to face their old allies.

A heavy vehicle transport rolled out of the vehicle park laden down with a pair of M6A4 Bushnells and their accompanying armament. Each Arm Slave was crouched on the flat bed and tied down.

David swallowed as he watched them rumble past. "Specialist!" A man yelled and David glanced at one of the armament officers. "Johnson, what the hell is going on? We've been told to get every unit that is combat capable out of storage. I know we have more pilots than AS's but this is nuts."

"Hell if I know, the rumor mill is saying something crazy about a Mithril base." He shook his head as a Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicle rolled past followed by three more. "Whatever is going on it, is sure is FUBAR."

"No shit, I've been freezing my balls off getting this gear loaded. They're telling us to load five days' worth of war-shots. You know no unit used a full day's worth during the gulf, what the fuck are we going to do with five times that amount. It's all white on the rails too, no practice rounds at all." He shook his head. "I haven't seen that much 40mm Bofors ammunition before in my life."

"I think the Navy has more, hard to believe we're using a naval gun as a rifle on these things. I tell you, I still can't believe we've got Arm Slaves, I remember growing up and watching cartoons, you'd swear this stuff would never exist." David shook his head as the wind blew around them picking up snow as it went. "Did they issue more fuel then normal? Everything eats gas in cold like this."

"Hell yes specialist, we've got a whole damn company of fuel tankers. The few Abrams we've got are also being fueled. You're lucky the Bushnell and Abrams are both gas turbines." He shook his head. "We were told to ready for a thousand kilometer march, so we've loaded enough fuel for two or three."

"Thank god, maybe this thing isn't that FUBAR. I really hope the rumor about a Mithril base is bull. I don't want to think about going up against those fuckers. They've got the Gernsback and have been using it in the field for three years now, plus ECS on fucking everything. You'd swear they were funded by a fucking superpower or something." David pulled a cigarette from his chest pocket and lit it. As he took a long pull he was grateful for the meager heat the small point of flame provided. "They're damn well trained too, bastards could run the NTC."

"You think we'd lose?" The ordnance officer asked.

"Fuck no! It'll just be damn bloody."

24 March 2000, 12:47 hrs.

Hunter Army Airfield, State of Georgia, United States

Maintenance Hangar of the 3rd Battalion, 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment

"Come on you maggots, let's get a move on. If rangers lead the way I want to see you dragging that damn helicopter! Come on!" The distinct bark of a platoon sergeant echoed in the hangar as the four pilots of the 160th SOAR watched the men of 1st battalion of the 75th ranger regiment lend their 'assistance' to the act of loading the two AH-6J Little Birds into the waiting and gaping mouth of the C-17 Globemaster that sat out on the tarmac just outside the hangar.

"Should we mention to them that there are wheels on the rails?" Lieutenant John Elliot joked as he watched the rangers nearly sixteen hundred pound helicopter finally begin to roll out the hangar with its sound dampening five bladed rotor curled pulled back over the tail boom. Dozens of small electronic pieces jotted out from the craft, the trademark sign of ECS systems.

"Nah, I think they finally figured it out, they're rangers not marines." Warrant Officer Curt Saxton answered from beside him. "God, I'm glad we're not working with them this time. Delta Ops tend to go smooth as silk comparatively."

"Unless they're working with the Rangers, then it's too big to go right." The Lieutenant observed as he started to trudge toward the cargo aircraft that was swallowing their choppers. "Japan though, I got to say that's irregular for a place to go."

"I know, maybe they got another terrorist group with Arm Slaves. You remember the big ass fight there was there a year ago, and then the A-21 incident the year before that." The Warrant Officer shrugged. "Not that we could do much to stop an AS except fire off all our rockets and pray."

"And hope it's not a third generation AS that can jump over our head while taking pot shots at us." The Lieutenant shook his head. "Damn I'm starting to sound morbid." A grin slipped across his face as he saw the eight Delta Force Operators sitting in the cargo plane. "At least our cargo is here."

Each Delta Force operator war a set of the new experimental digital camouflage pattern along with a set of knee pads and arm pads that looked more like what one would see on a skater. This was topped off with a black Kevlar helmet that looked more like a bicycle helmet then the K-pots that the normal army and marine jocks wore.

There were reasons for all that though. In combat you can drop to your knees into a sniper stance to line up a shot, hence the knee pads, and the K-pot while offering greater protection dampened hearing somewhat compared to these helmets.

There were no ranks spoken by the Delta Force operators, this was in part due to the plethora of sources from which they were drawn. The best of the Rangers, Seals, Green Berets, Force Recon, and CIA Field Operatives landed here. They were professionals, the best of the best.

Their leader was simply known as boss, or boss man. Since there were eight that meant there were two teams, two bosses and the senior had overall command. This man stood at the pilots approached and handed over a clipboard. "Bit of a strange tasking."

The Lieutenant blinked as he looked down at the clipboard and the picture clipped to the front of the documents that showed a young Japanese woman with dark black hair that shimmered slightly from the camera flash with a hint of blue. A perplexed expression passed over his face.

"A bit pretty for a terrorist isn't she." The boss stated. "We're on a snatch and grab, and that's the target."

The Lieutenant pursed his lips as he sounded out the name. "Kaname… Chidori?"

24 March 2000, 13:05 hrs.

Chesapeake Regional Airport, State of Virginia, United States

General Aviation Hangar 12-C

Tessa crinkled her nose as she stepped inside lugging her baggage. The acrid odor of ozone filled the hangar as the air before her shimmered once and the grey expanse of the Gulfstream G. IV jet appeared. It's forward hatch popped open and dropped to the tarmac revealing the stairs built into it.

Jerome Borda leaned against his cane as he walked slowly toward the aircraft. The Mithril pilot quickly took his baggage and tossed it inside before offering the older man a hand as he climbed inside.

Tessa glanced at the name tag on the pilot's lapel as she climbed inside. "Lieutenant Wilkins?"

"Yes ma'am?" He asked as she stepped out of the way for him to grab the hatch and secure it.

"Do you have family in America?"

The Lieutenant scowled as the hatch shut with a clack and glanced at the two passengers. "My wife and son live in Norfolk. Admiral, is there a danger to them?"

"That depends on how much you told them." Jerome Borda stated as he sat heavily in one of the chairs. "The United States is likely going to be moving against Mithril. If you want out, after this flight, I understand. I'll ensure you're not charged the early termination fees."

"Understood, sir." The pilot let out a relieved sigh. "We'll be making a non-stop flight to Las Vegas international. From there you should be able to catch a plane to wherever you need to go for your safety."

"Good, since their movement against us is trying to be hidden I don't anticipate any problems there, even if we're forced to use civil air lines." The Admiral said as she leaned back in his seat.

Tessa watched the pilot head to the cockpit and sat down opposite the Admiral. "If they're moving against Mithril…"

"I doubt we'll have the resources to rebuild the organization, we were rather dependent upon western companies for equipment." He let out a long sigh. "It also depends on whether the Alaskan base has been identified, if it is and they move militarily against it Mithril will effectively cease to exist afterward."

Tessa nodded slowly. "I see." Outside the engines began to whine to life and she glanced out the window. "I have become like Mithril it seems, nation-less."

"Yes, but then that gives us the ability to view the world without the lens of nationalistic pride. Nations have interests, not friendships. As such it is not surprising for America to be acting this way now." Admiral Borda let out a long sigh. "Our focus must remain on preserving what we can, protecting those we can." He tapped the computer display built into seat and studied the information that popped up. "I have been a military man for quite a while, after a time you learn to anticipate such things. It seems it's time for me to bring out my contingency plans for just such a scenario."

24 March 2000, 10:01 hrs.

Elmendorf Air Force Base, State of Alaska, United States

Base Convocation Center

"Good morning." The base commander coughed once after he spoke and swallowed audibly. Bad news had come in mere moments before he'd walked to the podium. Word of the impending operation had spread throughout the pentagon. Those that had grown close to Mithril were up in arms, and one man in particular Thomas L. Tinsley had gone beyond protests and shot himself rather than issue the orders.

But the orders were issued.

Behind him Lieutenant Colonel Tod D. Wolters glanced at the Brigadier General. As commander of the 19th Fighter Squadron he would be in the lead wave of the attack engaging the Mithril Fighters that were sure to scramble. Intelligence said they only have Av-8b Harriers and XF-32 Joint Strike Fighter prototypes for air defense, but then intelligence didn't even know the base existed twenty-four hours prior. He was worried. Av-8b's lacked radars so their ranged potential was negligible, but the same could not be said for XF-32 prototypes. Moreover, rumors said that the Super Harrier Plus upgrade that Mithril installed in their craft included ECS and radar systems. Just how dangerous this engagement would be was totally up in the air.

"At approximately 08:30 hours this morning, the President signed an executive order instructing the department of defense, department of justice, pentagon, FBI, NSA, and CIA that all available methods were to be used to eliminate the freelance mercenary organization known as Mithril because it represents a clear and present danger to United States interests. At approximately 04:00 hours this morning actionable intelligence was received that a large scale Air Base belonging to Mithril was located in the State of Alaska. As a result units of the United States Army Alaska are moving to maximum readiness and being deployed as we speak to jump off positions for operations against this base."

He cleared his throat once more. "The personnel of Elmendorf Air Base will support these operations with the carrying out of air strikes against the air base and the elimination of local Mithril air assets. The objective is to secure as much of the air base as possible intact, but Mithril's capabilities may make a certain level of destruction all but impossible to prevent."

Already whispers were washing over the crowd of pilots, RIOs, and other personnel. The room was tense as each person knew they were facing a serious engagement in the coming hours. This wasn't some third rate power with twenty year old equipment and marginal training, this was a professional army with the most advanced equipment in the world they were facing. They were scared.

Not one of their commanders could blame them.

25 March 2000, 04:42 hrs.

Yokatsu, Uruma, Okinawa

Yokatsu Dockside Warehouse

"Finally!" Sarah said as the transfer finished from the AI core to the portable unit. "Al, can you hear me?"

"Affirmative, I feel much lighter now and I noticed a point five percent increase in processing speed after the transfer."

"Are you… you?" Sarah asked, uncertainty if the AI's personality would remain the same had worried her throughout the transfer. Now that it was done it would be best to check, wouldn't it?

"I am me, thus far I have noticed no change in my personality algorithms though with the Heisenberg uncertainty principal I doubt my personality will remain totally identical, this is not worrisome however since people change and grow over time. Is this not correct Miss Miller?" Al stated.

Sarah smiled. "Yes Al, that's correct. You're coming with me now." She picked up the case and adjusted it unsteadily for a moment.

"Please don't drop me." Al muttered.

Melissa Mao slept with an M16 rifle in her arms at the end of the truck bed while Kurz stood watch beside her. Glancing back at Sarah he smiled. "Finally done?"

"Yes Sergeant, I'll be taking Closeau and Al back to the Alaska base now if you'd be kind enough to help." Sarah said.

"Just one moment." He kicked Melissa in the shin and grinned. "Hey beautiful we've got to take the princess back to the airport."

Mao cursed and threw a loaded magazine into Kurz's head before her eyes had finished opening.

25 March 2000, 06:00 hrs.

Chofu, Suburbs of Tokyo, Japan

Room 404, Mansion K Apartments

"Que… Kana-chan get up, or you'll be late."

Sousuke opened his eyes to the sound of the alarm clock and glanced at Kaname's face lying mere centimeters from his own. Instantly he felt himself flush and beads of sweat began to roll down his temple.

He watched her eyes move under the eyelids for a moment before she opened them a crack, a lost and confused expression on her face for a split second before her eyes met his. Immediately she blushed brightly and sighed. "Sousuke? Is something wrong?"

His sweating came to a stop and he sighed. "No Kaname." He tried to smile reassuringly at her as she scooted closer in her striped pajamas and leaned forward and pursed her lips. He stared at her pursed lips for a moment before realizing what she wanted then leaned over to kiss her.

She sighed happily as their lips met. Both were stunned by the plethora of feelings such a simple act brought to the both of them and Sousuke ran a hand through her hair affectionately. With a sigh she broke for air and grinned at him. "Good morning."

"Good morning." Sousuke repeated as she stared into his eyes and leaned against the pillow.

"Is it okay if I don't want to get up?" Kaname asked as she glanced at the alarm clock.

"Affirmative." Sousuke sighed. "There is no school until the term begins again in April."

Kaname smirked slightly. "Three weeks… whatever will we do?" She nuzzled up against him and smiled.

"I do not know. I'm unfamiliar with the concept of a vacation." The tiniest hint of a smile alerted Kaname to something unexpected.

Sousuke was joking.

Perhaps Al is rubbing off on me. He thought as Kaname stared at him for a long moment then snorted.

"Was that a joke?" Kaname asked as she grinned at him.

"Affirmative." Sousuke said as he leaned against her.

"I still say we need to educate you on that subject." Kaname said quietly.

Sousuke stiffened as he caught a glint of light of a scope from across the way. Scowling he shifted his gaze. Damn, Wraith is back.

"Sousuke?" Kaname turned toward the window growled in irritation as she caught sight of the silhouette behind the air conditioning units of the Tiger Maison Apartment complex. "Wraith! God, can't she just leave me alone?"

"I guess not." Sousuke stated flatly.

25 March 2000, 07:59 hrs.

Naha Airport, Naha, Okinawa

General Aviation Terminal

Sarah Miller sighed as she took the last few steps onto the plane behind Clouseau. Behind them Kurz and Mao watched the hatch close and slowly relaxed. The team had dwindled down to just the two of them and their mission was accomplished.

"So they're headed back to Alaska then." Mao said with a shrug.

Kurz yawned. "Better them than us, I hate the cold, and I hate those bulky winter outfits women hide in when it's freezing. Can't they make winter clothing sexy somehow?"

Mao glanced at him and rolled her eyes not even deigning to answer him. She tapped on the roof of the car and Kurz slipped in behind the driver's seat. She sat beside him and sighed. "Fucking long day." She leaned back in the seat and yawned. "We've got a flight to grab in a couple hours to Sydney."

"Shit, maybe we can sleep on the plane." He yawned and glanced at Mel. "You're not pissed at me still?"

"Is your mouth open?" Mao asked and grinned at him.

"Come on! I mean seriously pissed, not your normal flirtatious smack me around pissed, but really pissed."

Melissa's smile disappeared and she sighed. "Fucking A. I thought you were dead, you know how much that fucking hurts? I don't know how the fuck Kaname or Tessa don't gone insane with how often Sousuke pulls the nearly died bit. Jesus Kurz!"

Kurz's normal sarcastic expression turned somber and he leaned over the steering wheel tiredly. "You know I didn't mean to hurt you, I didn't plan on getting shot or bleeding out in Russia. I thought I was really done for. Then I woke up with a bunch of fucking Russians putting away surgical instruments and thought. Fuck, now the KGB is going to grill my fucking ass about Mithril. I didn't think the fuckers would help us. I was worried you didn't make it out, that was one fucked up op."

"Shit, tell me about it." Melissa sighed. "I know you didn't plan on it. Who the fuck would? But I guess I'm still a bit pissed about it. Should have taken it out on that Sabine bitch, that fucker starts laughing about launching nukes until she faints. Glad that fucker bled out." She took a long pull on her cigarette. "And this next gig we got… I, fucking, am not looking forward to it."

"What the hell is the job going to be Melissa?" Kurz asked.

Melissa sighed. "Tessa wants us to go to Merida Island and make sure the TDD-1 is unrecoverable."

"Are you shitting me? What the hell is the radiation level on that island now?" Kurz scowled. "I suppose Sousuke got off looking normal, he didn't grow two heads while we weren't looking did he?"

"Fuck, radiation doesn't do that shit." Melissa sighed. "I hope Mithril's health insurance is still good after this."

"No shit."

24 March 2000, 15:15 hrs.

Las Vegas, State of Nevada, United States

McCarren International Airport, General Aviation Terminal

Tessa walked alongside the Admiral her gaze drifting out onto the tarmac at the eight Boeing 737-200 aircraft that sat down the runway from where she walked. She could see the black SUVs of the PMC that provided security and that each aircraft lacked a serial number.

Anyone that had been a part of the black world of secrets that she had been knew what the planes represented. Known colloquially as the JANET terminal or Just Another Non-existent Airline, it was the primary means by which workers went to Groom Lake, also known as Area Fifty-One, or Dreamland.

In the context of being a whispered, the last nickname was a bit frightening. The unsettling feeling of floating and the dreamlike nature of a trance when the whispers took hold made it so that Tessa could not help but associate the place with whispered research.

She hope the United States treated those under their care well, she hoped they were volunteers and not coerced into their work, but while Area Fifty-One was an open secret what actually was done there never seemed to come to light. Rumors said the YF-22 and YF-23 were undergoing testing there, that the F-117 and B-2 had been initially tested there and that the XM9 Gernsback prototypes were kept there as well.

Rumors seemed to be the tip of the iceberg in her mind as she stared at the aircraft.

"Tessa." The Admiral stated as he laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Uncle… I'm scared. I don't want to end up walking aboard one of those airliners, not if I have a choice." She said quietly and glanced up at him.

"I know, and you won't have too. As long as I live and breathe you won't have to."

24 March 2000, 15:30 hrs.

Mithril Base, State of Alaska, United States

Base Headquarters

The general in charge let out a low growl as a combination of fury and insolence gripped him. He'd been a career officer in the United States Army, a decorated veteran that had left after the fiasco that had erupted at the end of Operation Desert Storm. The use of a nuclear weapon on Baghdad in retaliation for a half dozen or so poorly executed futile attempts to use chemical and biological agents against the invading troops.

Now that same army was on the move, and there was little wonder as to where it was headed. A mobilization was a tough thing to hide, especially when the two armies in question had friends and allies in the other. Phone calls had been made in the first few hours but those soon ended as the Americans somehow had managed to put a communication blackout over the base, satellite signals wouldn't go through and communications were limited to line of site and short wave radio.

Around the plotting table the senior staff of the base stood, their eyes fastened on the penciled in red and blue lines marking their defenses and the axis of advance.

The lead scientist on base swallowed and glanced at the general. "How long until Miss Miller returns to base?"

"Eight to twelve hours." The Lieutenant Colonel in charge of one of the two Av-8b Super Harrier II Plus squadrons stated. "That's around the time they'll reach their jump off positions."

The general glanced at the Lieutenant Colonel and nodded once. The man was formerly Royal Navy and had piloted Harrier jump jets in the Falklands, so he knew all the tricks for his crop of machines. "What do you think of our chances?"

"Depends, a lot of our men are former Royals or former US Marines, it's one of the few places that train jump jet pilots. We've got a few Russians but not many, they're probably eager to test their old foes in combat. The rest, aren't so much. We're looking at defections, refusing to combat, and that sort of thing is all in the cards. Some are livid though, good motive to combat. Betrayal is something soldiers don't take lightly." He tapped his pen on the table. "We've got two squadrons of harriers, one squadron of Boeing F-32C JSFs to go up against the whole damn United States 3rd Wing. That's mostly F-15C and Es, it'll be a bloody slaughter on both sides, and that's before we get to the attack helicopter components. They've got Ah-64s, mostly the new Apache Longbows and we've got RAH-66 Comanche's. It won't even be an even contest. The problem is the ground. They've probably got half the twenty-fifth division moving up that road. It's a light division but it's still a bloody division. We might be able to fend off their air force, and they can't posthole the runways and do anything to our capabilities, but if they roll tanks into the bloody hangar there's not a damn thing we can do about it."

"What about the M9s, surely they'll turn some of the balance of power toward our side?" One of the other officers stated.

"Maybe, but most of that lot is American trained. I don't know about you, but I'm not sure how many of you bloody yanks are willing to shoot at your countrymen?"

There was silence at that remark as most of the officers pondered that question. Then the Brit continued.

"Moreover, Mithril is a mercenary organization. When was the last time we got paid? Face it chaps, I'm not sure how many of our comrades in arms are going to line up for this fight. Some might just take their equipment and run, flee somewhere till it all cools down and they can sell their services to the next bidder. That ultimately is partly why I doubt we'll win this fight. They'll swamp us, and when they do the mercenaries that make up our average trooper will take their chances and desert or surrender."

The general in charge nodded once and leaned over the map. "You're quite right Lieutenant Colonel Albus Doran. This quite likely is Mithril's last battle as an independent army." He pursed his lips once and sighed. "So, let's make it one worth remembering… one that they'll recreate every week at the National Training Center and teach at West Point for centuries to come."

The American trained officers nodded one after another and the foreigners watched as the Americans bent over the maps and sent to work. Albus Doran watched and marveled as the Americans plotted the course for one last battle between English speaking armies.

Win or lose, this would be one hell of a fight.