Date Thursday 11/03/2060, Location 53.38042, 50.27575

Shimazu coughed, then looked down at the gash over his ribs as the pain receptors fired a warning to his brain. He reached over for the almost-empty spray bottle of disinfectant and finished off the bottle on his shallow wound. Despite the interaction of anti-bacterial agent and raw flesh, he didn't wince or show any emotion - performing the procedure with a resigned look upon his face. As he finished dressing the wound, the door swung open and Anton entered the room.

"Marius – we're getting a call to head back to the pad to arm up, in case we need more firepower. I'm worried in case… whatever happened before, happens again. Will you fly with me?" Marius glanced around for a moment, but saw no objections, so he headed out with Anton, sliding into the chopper's co-pilot seat and running through the start-up procedure with him. Nadia followed him, of course, sliding into the back and strapping herself in.

"If there is still a threat, especially a magical one, I need to be out there." Aswon grabbed his gear and headed out after Marius, and started to walk a random path, circling the barracks blocks and keeping his eyes peeled, watching out for astral intruders.

"And I'm going to go check on the bodies, and look for loot. Cheers for the gun!" Hunter hefted his rifle, the bullpup weapon looking like a toy in his heavily-developed arms. With deft movements he checked the magazine was seated in the well and that a round was chambered, while his induction pad synced up with the weapon, establishing a good link. Shimazu looked up, snapped out of his fugue.

"If you're going into the woods, I will come with you. If there are magical threats, I will deal with them." He rose gracefully from his position on the floor, his heavy-set body moving gracefully and in near silence, something that always looked – or rather sounded – disturbing for a man of his size.

Kai looked around at the scene of carnage, used medical containers, bandages, blood and needles everywhere. Someone was going to have to clean this up, he suspected – and he was dammed if it was going to be him! He left the room quickly, keying up the radio as he did so.

"This is Kai, I'd like to speak to Captain Zarkorov please?"

"The Captain is unavailable at this time."

"Then make him available please!"

"The Captain is organising containment into the forest, a clean-up team, scouts, close air support missions and authorising surgery on a civilian who shouldn't be on the base at all. I will pass on your message, and the Captain will be in touch if and when he becomes free!" Kai blinked, went to push the transmit button again, then thought better of it – without the advantages of a face to face meeting where he could read his opponent, a lot of his skills were blunted. Perhaps better to let this one go, for the moment.

Hunter and Shimazu headed down the path, much slower than their previous journeys. Hunter led the way, his eyes rendering the forest path like daylight, while Shimazu followed the solid shape in front of him, moving steadily and surely around the trees and branches. They'd made it nearly two-thirds of the way to the scene of the fight when Shimazu saw Hunter stop and raise his weapon.

"Halt! Identify yourself!" came a somewhat muffled voice from the darkness ahead. Hunter relaxed slightly – it wasn't likely that magical creatures or enemies would make a call like that, which meant it was one of the patrols or guards from the base.

"It's Hunter, the Orc. I'm coming to examine where we fought the enemy and to look for magical clues and threats." He wasn't looking for anything magical of course, but he figured that dropping that into the conversation was likely to stymie a lot of the potential arguments that could be raised.

"Oh, ok. Well, you can't go any closer, not dressed like that." Shimazu stepped to the side of Hunter carefully, mindful of the branches that crowded the path, just in time for the patrol to step out from their positions of concealment ahead. One of the troopers flicked on a torch covered with a red filter, lighting the area with a dull red glow that made the slush on the ground look like a scene from an abattoir. In the reflected and spilled light they could see the four man patrol standing in a cluster, weapons held pointing down to the ground, but all four of them were in their NBC suits. The rubberised and treated overgarments made them look shapeless and bulky, the sheen caused by the chemical treatments of the fabric reflecting light in strange ways.

"I have orders – nobody may approach the scene unless they are in their suits. There is hazardous material there. But I guess you know that already." The trooper's words were still muffled by the full face gas-mask he wore, and as Hunter quickly examined them he saw that they were taking this threat seriously – there was no exposed flesh anywhere, the hood was cinched tightly around the gas mask, and equally tightly around the wrists where the over-gloves were tucked inside. Even in the cold, wearing a suit like that trapped the heat and sweat, and became unpleasant quite quickly – so they were obviously worried about something.

"Yes, we know about the threat. But we need to examine the scene, and make sure it is safe for your people, too. Do you have any spare suits?" The junior NCO nodded to one of his men, who pulled out his tactical radio and called for someone to come to their position with spare suits. It didn't take long, and both Shimazu and Hunter could hear other people moving around in the woods to both sides of them – apparently the woods were almost crawling with troops, surrounding the location with armed men forming a living barrier – the question was, were they there stopping things getting in – or things getting out?

Another patrol turned up with a large plastic crate held between two of the men. Inside were a random assortment of kit, apparently sized for orcs and trolls. Rooting through, they found a pair of trousers and a smock each, along with a gas mask that would fit them, and clambered into the gear under the watchful eyes of the patrol. After a bit of a struggle, one of the troops came to help Shimazu out with getting his gear on right, pulling the cords to tighten the hood around the mask. The fabric was stiff and heavily impregnated with plastics and complex chemicals, forming a waterproof barrier that made wearing them a special kind of fun. Still – the aim of the suit wasn't fun or comfort, but to form a barrier against nuclear, biological and chemical agents, resistant to a wide variety of threats. Once they were suited up, the patrol let them pass, radioing ahead to whomever was waiting.

As they closed, they could see the forest glowing ahead of them – someone had bought in some arc lights on stands, set up around the perimeter and facing inwards and down, creating a bubble of light and shadows across the area. Every time one of the suited figures moved in front of a light, it created a huge and monstrous form that stretched away from them to play across the scene, looking for all the world like aliens from another planet. Frequent flashes of intensely bright light strobed across the ground as one figure moved around with a camera, recording the locations of the bodies and the scratch marks in the ground, the positions of blood and entrails, ripped armour and spent cases.

Hunter and Shimazu moved about, looking at the corpses who if anything looked more frightful now, illuminated in the harsh white light from the lamps, their forms frozen in a rictus death mask of pain and agony. They couldn't see any sign of weird materials or anything that hadn't been there when they were fighting, and it didn't look like anything had been added. Hunter looked around one final time, and then moving swiftly he loosened the hood and pulled up his gas mask, taking a hesitant sniff, then a deeper breath.

The air moved up his nostrils over the sensitive receptor, and the tiny but advanced cyberware sprang into action, pulling a small sample into an even smaller chamber before it was analysed and broken down, fed into the computer built into his brain and analysed against the library of chemical agents and compounds stored there. He heard a shout – angry, but also mixed with fear and confusion – but ignored it and took a deeper sniff, turning his head and stepping over towards the body of the bear to get a better sample. Data cascaded through the router buried deep inside his body, sending a stream of text data to his image link. Arsenic – negative. Cyanide – negative. Sulphur dioxide – negative. The list went on and on, but the only hits were things he expected to find here – natural chemicals found in the wood, blood, traces of cordite and propellant, sweat… he couldn't detect anything that he could pinpoint as a danger. The shouts grew louder and more strident, so he relented and lowered the gas mask again, pulling the hood tight once more. Angrily the figure in charge of the scene pointed back towards the base, demanding that they leave.

"Don't worry, we're going – just not that way. We're leaving this way." Hunter pointed to the far side of the clearing, and matched actions to words, leaving via his chosen direction before they could argue with him, Shimazu in tow.

It took about ten minutes of searching once they had walked far enough, but they found what Hunter was looking for – a small hollow at the base of a tree, near where the Owl had first landed. Rooting around he found the remains of an area that had been used as a bed, pine boughs laid down to form a more comfortable area to lie, and branches propped up to shelter the area from both the wind and from sight. And there, in the corner, was a string bag full of random items – a pen, a ring in a small bag, a slender bible, a spent bullet.

They looked around, but other than the odd bit of fur and scraps of blood and sinew, found nothing else of note, so they grabbed the loot and headed back, carefully working their way around the fight scene and passing through or past several patrols in the woods. On their return they could hear the drone of choppers flying overhead, frequently seeing craft pass through gaps in the trees. Hunter saw the beams of IR searchlights painting the forest as they flew their patrols, and guessed that they were loaded up now with troops and munitions, looking for targets. There were no sounds of battle though, no fresh combat that indicated they had stumbled across new enemies.

Back at the base, Kai waited for a quarter hour, then reached for the radio again. This time he politely requested to speak to the Captain, making it clear that he had important news for him, that might help him deal with the crisis. The MP on the other end was a different voice, but told him that the Captain was not available – but he could pass on a message.

"You need to be aware that there could be at least one more magical threat out there. Once we had fought with the creatures, there was still a spirit affecting one of your helicopter pilots, and that was unusual, and normally indicates that there is a magically active threat still at large. A powerful threat."

"I will pass on the warning, but we have several companies now deployed in the woods, and they are doing near constant radio checks amongst the squads to keep track of what is going on. The air wing has also been launched and we have multiple sniper and gunships in the air."

"Well, a mage is still a serious threat – and without magical help, you could still be in trouble. But please let the Captain know that we're ready to help again if he requires it. Now, can you tell me where my Shaman is, please?

"She's being taken care of." Kai shuddered involuntarily at the words, then replayed them in his mind – searching for emotion and context. He hoped that it didn't mean what it COULD have meant, otherwise they were going to have a problem – brigade of troops or not!

"What do you mean, taken care of?"

"She is in surgery at the moment. Dr Astirdar is working on her – don't worry, she is very good! We will get a message to you when the surgery is over." Kai relaxed somewhat as the meaning of "taken care of" was clarified, and released the button on the radio.

After a while, Hunter and Shimazu returned, followed by Marius and Nadia, and then Aswon. Aswon had seen nothing on his patrol that was a cause for alarm, no sign of astral intruders or happenings. Marius told them all that the air base had gone to full alert, and had launched several squadrons of gunships, loaded down with rockets, guns, and several squads of marksmen. Also, while walking back from the aerodrome, they'd seen squad after squad of troops heading into the woods – it looked like the ant hill had been well and truly kicked!

Hunter and Shimazu showed the team the string bag, and they went through the items, tying them up with the reported thefts – all the items were there, no more, no less, and all in good condition. Well, at least they were going to be popular with some people tomorrow morning. After chatting for a while about the events for the night, letting the stress of combat bleed off, they started to settle down to sleep, waiting to see what the new day would bring them.

In the morning they rose at their normal time and had breakfast, and were just getting ready for their normal run when they heard voices outside – a low murmur indicating that there were lots of people. Aswon went to the door to check, while several of the others leant out of their rooms to see what was going on. As Aswon swung the door open, his eyes opened wide as he saw about three platoons worth of troops in a big gaggle on the area outside the building, stretching and limbering up. One of the NCOs turned to him and threw a salute, before he spoke.

"We're ready to escort you for your morning run!" Aswon grinned, and shrugged, not quite sure what was going on, but told him to wait for just a moment, then called for the rest of the team to hurry up. Shortly afterwards the large group were running around the base – the Russians teaching them their marching song, and Hunter and Aswon reciprocating. Aswon's song was hard, being a mix of African tribal chanting and words that the Russians had never heard before, but having the advantage of a very strong and easy to follow beat that matched the pace of the runners well, while Hunters was in English, lacked the same easy cadence, but made up for it with gutter humour and profanities. His song took three times as long to sing, as some of the troops burst out laughing, then in between breaths had to translate for those that didn't know English, when then in turn were exposed to knob jokes and discovered the joys of Y-shaped coffins.

Following the run and the inevitable showers, the team split up again. Marius and Nadia headed over to the graveyard, finding a couple of technicians waiting for them again, along with a driver and a mobile crane. The driver explained that they'd found space in a hanger, and he was ready to tow the bird they were working on into the maintenance area. They lost the first few hours while they grappled the bird with the mobile lifting gear and got it transported back to the main base – but being able to work inside, out of the vicious wind and sleet or snow, with access ladders and diagnostic equipment on hand soon made up for that. Nadia soon found herself delegated as chief scrounger, heading back and forth to the graveyard to remove parts from the other hulks dotted around to fix up the KA-60, and work progressed well.

Hunter headed for the range with his pistol and a box of the cheap and nasty ammo that Nadia had sorted through when they were back in Batumi – he figured he might as well use it up, and if he could shoot accurately with that, he could do it with anything. When he got to the range though, he found the range officer following him out of the little hut that he had normally sat in, going through his paperwork, all the way out to the shooting station. As he started to shoot, the officer watched him, making the occasional notes. When he'd finished his first magazine, and set off to fetch the target, the officer started to chat with him, discussing his shooting position and form.

Over the next four hours, as Hunter put round after round downrange, the officer coached him – never saying why he was doing it, but spending all morning working with him one to one, and helping him improve his stance, gun handling and style. Some of what he had to say was at odds with the instructor in Sochi, but Hunter figured that was just a style thing, and probably individual to each shooter – or perhaps tutor. But there was enough common ground that he could take onboard the comments, and he continued to shred the targets, working on improving his aim.

After lunch, the same change was in evidence at the combat area. Unlike previous sessions where he'd ended up being paired off with any odd man or as a stand in for when someone was injured, this time he was pulled off to the side and an instructor spent some time working with him, going over the basics and working on the easier moves, showing him some of the fundamental concepts of stance, where his centre of gravity or balance was, blocking, and simple combinations. Hunter made significant progress that morning under his expert tutelage.

Kai spent the morning returning each of the stolen items to the rightful owners, sitting with each man and discussing the history of the item and what it meant to them, studying each radio operator in turn and watching the reaction of their bodies and minds when they saw the item returned to them intact. Part of it was studying their reactions, watching the thousand and one tiny cues in the body that betrayed their real emotions, studying the human reaction to joy and relief to better learn and understand it. Part of it was a need to share in a pure joy, unsullied by greed or desire, just a genuine outpouring of happiness that he could absorb.

Aswon and Shimazu went to check in on Tads. The Doctor had worked on her for several hours last night, and she was still listed as being in critical care. She lay on a bed, surrounded by plastic sheeting with a large oxygen tube down her throat and several drips running into her arm. She had little colour to her and looked drained and shrunken, a fragile form that had been battered and mauled. The machine at her side showed a weak and fast pulse, slow and erratic breathing with the machine pushing oxygen enriched air through the tube into her lungs. Shimazu read through the chart, frowning as he did so.

"Collapsed lung, low O2 sats, shock, blood loss, possible complications to secondary organs from oxygen starvation. Looks like it was a close run thing. And she's not asleep – it's a coma. Or very deep unconsciousness at the least – hard to tell from these records."

A very weary-looking Doctor Astirdar emerged from her office, face lined with fatigue and wisps of hair escaping from her surgical hat, pinned to the side of her face with dried sweat.

"You pair – out! Leave her alone, she's in no state for visitors, and neither am I. You can see her later, but she needs rest now." An arm was raised and a slender finger extended towards the door back to the corridor. They thought about arguing with her, but the set on her face and the bloodshot eyes made them reconsider and instead they nodded and left without a word.

"Shimazu – I'm heading into the woods to try and attune myself to the spear we found. If you're not doing anything else, would you come with me?" Shimazu nodded, glad for the distraction from his guilt. They headed back to the truck and grabbed the spear and some warmer clothes, along with a small blanket, then headed off into the woods, steering well away from the southern end where the fight had been the previous night. It didn't take long to find a suitable clearing, a small space surrounded by tall pine trees that stretched up into the air. It was still and quiet, the trees blocking out the wind, and only a very light smattering of snow made its way down through the opening overhead.

Aswon laid out the blanket with the waterproof side down, and then arranged himself cross-legged on it, facing into the centre of the clearing. He laid the spear over his knees, hands resting lightly on top of it, and then took a deep cleansing breath and slowly closed his eyes. His last sight was of Shimazu drawing his sword and dropping into a tight crouch about three metres ahead of him, balancing his weight over his feet, his sword held flat in front of him, in a mirror of his own grasp. He took a deep breath, then spoke clearly and firmly.

"I am Aswon, hunter of Anu, protector and student of Dibia, guardian of the ways of Nri! Hear me now! MMuo I call to you, bear witness to me! Carry my deeds to the ears of Chukwu that he may judge me! I am Aswon, son of Ala, and I call to you Chi to hear my words." The forest was silent, and Shimazu looked around, feeling for all the world like he was being watched. He flicked into astral space, but saw nothing against the vibrant background of the living forest.

"I am Aswon! I walk with my friends, to protect and guide them. We fought against the darkness, in the place under the earth, driving back a creature of evil. We did battle against evil and triumphed, saving the weak from destruction. The evil remains though, trapped and alive, festering in that dark place. Chi, I sense you at work, when you led us to this treasure. I heed your call, your message, and I speak to you now." His hands ran lightly over the haft of the spear, fingers tracing over the faint carvings.

"I call the spirit of this weapon to me. Recognise me – I am Aswon of the Nri. I see the path ahead of me and will not shirk from it. I bind myself to you, and you to me. I name you."

"Medaron…" A faint glow of mana sparkled around his head, like motes of dust tumbling through a sunbeam.

"Speren…" The motes started to swirl, still faint but moving faster and faster in a vortex around the tribesman's head. Shimazu rose silently, powerful leg muscles pushing him upright and his sword raised slowly to a guard position. Aswon continued to speak, unaware of his surroundings.

"Mes Bele…" The light intensified and the motes moved so fast they appeared like a solid ribbon, swirling chaotically around his skull. Shimazu opened his mouth, drawing in air to shout a warning.

"se'Farad!" The vortex of light spiked in brightness, and two forks of lightning struck out from the mass of light, one to Aswon's forehead, the other to the tip of the spear. The light peaked, and then vanished, and Aswon slumped down, falling backwards to the ground.

"Aswo…shit." Shimazu stepped forwards, and with the tip of his sword rolled the spear off Aswon's legs and into the snow. As he circled around it, Aswon opened his eyes and pushed himself up to his elbows, making a grunting noise.

"Oh, gods. How long was I out for?"

"You weren't – not really. You barely had time to fall over. What happened?" Shimazu offered him a hand and Aswon sat up, then reached for his water bottle and took a drink.

"I was somewhere else, some far-away land. Not somewhere I had been before. Surrounded by thick twisted vines, covered in thorns. A massive thicket – I mean the base of the vines were as thick as your leg, massive twisted plants, curling and twisting around each other, made of some hard looking material – it looked as solid as oak. But everything was covered in spines. I didn't touch them, but somehow I knew they were deadly – they looked razor sharp and long enough to go clear through an arm. As I watched them, the vines writhed, twisting and moving as if they were a creature, like a snake curling around its prey. As they closed in on me, the tips of the spines started to ooze blood. Thick, blackish droplets, like something infected or tainted." He took another sip of water.

"Don't ask me how I knew, but that stuff was evil – polluted or twisted by something hideous. I looked around me, but the thorns were all around me, higher than I could jump and dense enough that I couldn't see through them. I couldn't see a way out at all, then with no warning, the vines parted on one side, burnt away by some light. I could see out over the land, fields and meadows, green and pleasant, and in the distance I saw a spire. Wide at the base and sweeping up in a smooth arc, this thing reached up so high it was like it touched the clouds. I couldn't see any detail, it was too far away – but that meant it must be miles tall. Huge – the biggest building I have ever imagined. Then I woke up."

"What does it mean?"

"I have no idea – I was hoping you might. Nothing like this in your psychology books?" Shimazu shook his head, then offered Aswon a hand up. The tribesman accepted his hand, pulling himself upright with his right hand, and grabbing his spear with the left. Neither of them noticed the tiny little ripple of light that ran down the spear as he made contact with the haft, or noticed the miniscule snowflake that landed on the spear tip and flashed to steam as soon as it touched the surface.

The headed back towards the barracks, chatting about his "dream" and trying to make sense of it, without any great success. When they got back to the truck they found Kai sitting in his seat in the front, staring blankly into space.

"What's up, boss?"

"Just thinking Aswon. Just thinking. Wondering if I'd had more insight, if Tads wouldn't be so badly hurt."

"I'm not sure how that might have helped – you were back in the truck, co-ordinating us all. Not sure how that would have changed anything."

"Still, I see you all trying to learn new things, reaching out into the world around you and expanding yourselves. And I haven't. I think that should change now. I need to learn too. How about we go into the back, and you teach me how to look at the astral world?"

The three of them headed into Tads' lodge and settled down. Kai lit a few candles, for the look of things, then tried to clear his mind and meditate, asking them to describe to him what they could see. Aswon and Shimazu sat to each side of him, reaching with their senses into the Astral world and describing it with intricate detail, each telling Kai how they felt when their senses changed to a different view of the world. Working together, as a group, they shared their knowledge and experience, telling Kai what they had seen, felt, learned and undergone recently. There wasn't a key moment or an epiphany, no one word that tipped the balance, but suddenly Shimazu and Aswon saw Kai looking at them – looking at their astral forms.

"Hello there boss. Nice to see you." Aswon let his defences down, revealing his true nature and spirit, and felt Kais gaze flit over him for a few seconds, examining but not probing too deeply. Shimazu did the same, and Kai looked him over as well, then turned his gaze around the truck, taking in the scene of the ethereal forest alive with signs of Tads' homeland, bought into being with the chalk marks inscribed into the physical walls of the truck.

Later on, while Aswon walked with Kai, teaching him to refine his astral sight, Shimazu returned to the infirmary and sat by the side of the bed. He checked over her vitals, examined the equipment and then settled down to wait, motionless. The Doctor noticed him at her next visit, giving him a sharp look – but as he sat there motionless, unspeaking while she carried out her hourly observations, she clearly decided to just ignore him, returning to her office and closing the door behind her.

That set the pattern for the next few days – the morning run, training and practicing, scrounging parts and fixing helicopters and sitting by the side of the hospital bed. The Doctor gave a start one night when she saw a dark form in the corner of the room, until Hunter leant forward into the light, his face emerging from the shadows. He gave a tight-lipped smile and then sat back, continuing his vigil over his team mate.

After a few days, Marius had finished the repairs on the KA-60, and turned it over to quartermaster. Slightly unbelieving, it was run through a full check and found to be in working condition – actually in good condition, given the age and where it had been. The diagnostics computer declared it fully operational, and it was wheeled outside and clamped down with chains while they did a static test. Passing every test with flying colours, they moved onto a short test flight, where it again performed flawlessly.

As soon as the chopper was handed over though, Marius and Nadia headed back out to the graveyard, and started work on the Mi-26. The enormous craft dwarfed the KA-60 – it could probably fit inside if the rotors were taken off, but it was very similar in design to the Mi-6 that the team had their eye on, so a fixing it would give Marius great practice for their own craft.

On the Monday, they received word just after the morning run that the Brigadier would like to see them, on the main drill square, at lunchtime. They acknowledged the message, and headed off to their training or work, wondering what was going on, but not having any clue.

They met up at midday back in the barracks, and got cleaned up and into fresh clothes – getting approving looks from Nadia. As the team walked around the corner of the first company building and into sight of the parade area, they saw hundreds of men lined up in formation. Moving further around, they saw more and more men, realising that in fact the whole Brigade was formed up.

At the front a small podium had been set up, with the Brigadier standing in the centre, with the Captain standing to one side. Several other high ranking officers fanned out to either side, with a row of the base support staff beyond them. Facing them, the Brigade was split into the four battalions, then into companies, then down into platoons, with the NCOs and Officers formed up with their units, all standing in their uniforms, weapons slung and standing at parade rest. The two thousand plus troopers formed an impressive sight, and was the first time they had seen the Brigadier's men (and it was almost exclusively men – there were very few women, and they were mostly confined to the base staff) assembled in one place.

They were guided to an area to his right, just on the podium, but a step lower than the main officers, and turned towards the sea of faces. The last squad of troops fell in at the rear under the baleful gaze of a Captain that promised that several more people would be scrubbing bed frames with a toothbrush before the day was out, then the parade ground was hushed.

Speakers around the ground hummed for a moment, then then blared out the national anthem. All around them voices raised and sung, some with skill, others with gusto. Aswon joined in, much to the surprise of the rest of the team, but he ignored their glances, his eyes staring straight ahead as he sang with the brigade. Once the anthem was over, the Brigadier gave his speech. They listened to him – wondering which way this would go, and how much trouble they were in.

The Brigadier was inspiring – there was no other word for it. He spoke with honour and pride, with an eloquent choice of words, mixed with an earthy commonness that spoke to the lowest private. He described the threat to the motherland, how the forces of the Red Army stood against those who sought to harm her, how they were the guardians of the land, the people, the state. He was passionate, compelling, enthralling – it was easy to see how he inspired such loyalty in his troops.

Aswon nudged Kai and whispered out of the side of his mouth

"Check in astral, look at him," Kai looked, and blinked in amazement. He could see the shimmer in the air, the control of mana around the Brigadier as he used his talents without conscious thought. He heard odd words rumble with the subharmonics, recognised the same command of the subconscious mind that he made use of – and saw how far his power radiated from him. All of the staff were affected, as were the front row of troops. But those further back were clearly outside the area of effect of any power designed to control or compel them.

He looked more closely, and realised where the Brigadier's true power lay. Sure, he could read people, and in a pinch could control them until they thought about what they were doing. But a good chunk of his power was wrapped around himself – improving his already prodigious talent to inspire and lead people, boosting that ability considerably. In a weird catch-22 kind of way, he inspired himself to live up to his own ideals, and then did so, so convincingly it was impossible to look at him and for his men to think about letting him down. Kai watched him carefully, observing the body language and flow of mana around him – this – this was worth studying!

The Brigadier spoke to the troops, describing how it was up to them to defend the motherland, and at a signal, cloth was pulled off from large frames at the back of the stage, revealing the twisted and deformed corpses of the tiger, bear, raven and the bisected form of the owl. He spoke of how the team of outsiders had flushed out the threat to the Brigade, forcing them to make their move – how they had pursued and harried them into the forest, how they had bravely taken on the magical threat, at great risk to themselves. How that had bought the sniper teams time to gather the new ammunition from the armoury, and to get into position. How again when the magical threat had struck at the pilot, one of the team had saved them from crashing, and gotten them into position. And most importantly, how the snipers had taken down the evil creatures, with precision fire. How a shot had destroyed them, stopping their near miraculous powers of regeneration.

By the time he had finished speaking, there could be no doubt in anyone's mind that though they were facing a magical threat to their country that had been severe and pressing for the last decade, that a day of reckoning was coming. That the training they had been undergoing, along with the new equipment would see them victorious on the field of battle, and render them heroes to the people.

The team were swept along with the mood, even the most cynical of them. Shimazu, Aswon and now Kai looked around them as the power built – the belief of the soldiers and their officers, building into a presence in astral space that grew and grew over the parade ground. Tiny flares of mana popped in their vision as power gathered, tempting them to use it. It was a heady feeling, like coming up on a powerful wave of drugs – worse in some cases as there was no come down afterwards. It was easy to see how some mages got addicted to foci and the use of mana.

During the speech the Brigadier displayed a uniform, apparently found in the woods, and named its owner as Dimitry Ivanov, a fairly recent addition to the Brigade that had joined to replenish its strength. Despite having a good record, it was clear that he had been working for the enemy – in fact was likely to be one of the distended creatures on display.

At the end of the speech, the Brigadier called forward one of the troopers – the team recognised him as the spokesman of the trio that had been asking Tads to lead them in a service. As they listened, the Brigadier explained to the waiting parade that the team's shaman had attacked the enemy, spending her power to keep the others safe, but had fallen to a severe blow and even now lay in a coma in the hospital. That he had spoken with the army command and the politburo back in Moscow, about the civilian who had "happened" to be near the base during the attack, a Russian national, who had leapt to the defence of her country.

He presented the trooper with the Order of Courage, a fancy looking certificate with a wax seal stamped onto the bottom right corner, along with a small golden star on a red and purple ribbon. Iosef Lebedev came to a textbook example of attention as he was asked to accept the award on her behalf, to hold it in her stead until she was able to be presented with it personally.

The emotion they had felt before was reinforced, washing over them like a powerful wave. Politically it made sense – the troopers could see that if a mere civilian was recognised for her efforts, then going to war against the enemy would make them heroes to the people. But more, they saw that the Brigadier valued her efforts, had taken the steps needed to reward her personally. As the team looked out over their faces they could see admiration, even adoration in places. These soldiers would follow him into hell itself if they were asked.

The parade was inspected, then dismissed, the troops heading back to their barracks to get back into their normal uniforms and resume their training. The team moved over to speak to the Brigadier and the Captain, thanking them on behalf of Tads for the award – and for looking after her. After looking at the bodies in astral space and seeing the distorted mass of blackness gathering around them, they also recommended that the three shapeshifters that had been shot were burned as hot as they could be, then buried – just to be sure. Neither the Brigadier nor the Captain seemed to have a problem with that.

Five more days passed, with the team quietly training around the base, improving their skills and working with the Russians where they could, keeping an eye on Tads in the hospital, and working on the massive chopper, eventually returning the Mi-26 back into service as well. Marius was expecting a clap on the back for this second piece of heroic effort – but instead was rewarded with a poisonous look from the group-captain, that left him wondering just what he'd done to offend the man! He went out of his way to try and be nice – making sure that he gave him no grounds for concern or offence, and instead concentrated his efforts into fixing up the slightly smaller MI-6 instead.

On the evening of the fifth day, Hunter was in his normal spot, in the corner of the ward – just keeping an eye on the motionless form of Tads, when the Doctor came over for a chat. As he was talking, he let out a hacking cough that made her sit up and stare at him in alarm.

"How long have you had that?"

"Couple of days now. It's not so bad – just sometimes creeps up on you."

"Is everything else ok?"

"Well, I've had a bit of a headache, not that painful, but it's lasted a while…"

She extracted more information from him, bit by bit – finally getting him to admit that he'd taken off the gasmask at the skirmish site. Soon afterwards Hunter was persuaded to lie on the bed so she could give him a proper examination. After checking his vitals, and attaching some machines to monitor his vital stats, she approached with a syringe.

"Just some antibiotics and muscle relaxants, will make the examination more comfortable. Nothing to worry about." Hunter stiffened, but the Doctor sounded convincing – and they'd been looking after Tads ok. All of them really – if they meant them harm, they could have done it by now. He blinked at the Doctor, and watched as she started to go soft focus, his cybereyes zooming in and out wildly as they tried to adapt to the confusing signals from his brain.

"Hey…." His head lay back, and his breathing slowed and became regular as the sedative took effect, and the Doctor went to work.

When Hunter woke, he was groggy and very uncomfortable – and strangely out of breath. But the Doctor was there, checking up on him and looked pleased about something.

"Ahh – you're back with us. Good. Sorry, I had to put you under for the treatment – time was of the essence. But, hopefully it's not too late, and you should be fine."

"Spline veeth woth!" The Doctor helped support his head and raised it a little with one hand, then held up a cup of water with the other and let him sip through the straw and rehydrate his mouth a little. "Fanks. Fine weeth vot." Hunter frowned, and managed to snag the straw again, drinking some more of the metallic and flat-tasting water to try and get rid of the bad case of cotton-mouth he had.

"Well, it looks like you managed to ingest some small shavings or particles of radioactive matter. It wasn't a large dose, or you'd have been much worse – but the particles were all through your lungs and would have continued to dose you until it reached a critical point. But, I managed to get them all out, and safely contained. You're likely going to be feeling very thirsty for the next few hours – that's normal, and I encourage you to drink. But for now – rest."

Hunter did recover swiftly, and was soon back to running with the rest of the team, not mentioning the treatment to the rest of them. In the day he'd been mostly laid up, it appeared that Kai had asked Captain Zarkorov if they could get any of the special ammunition, but had been turned down pretty hard and flat, while Shimazu had been making enquiries to see if anyone on the base had come from a swampy area, and anyone that had was being asked what they knew about leeches. So far nobody had admitted anything to him, though.

It was the morning of the twentieth day that Tads awoke, her eyes fluttering open then her body starting to shudder and shake as she fought against the ventilator pipe that fed her airway. As the medical team rushed to calm her and pull the pipe out, letting her breath normally, they struggled and tripped over the supine form of Shimazu, who had thrown himself down to the floor and was bowing before her, sword outstretched in his hands as he dropped into a position that any student of Japanese history would recognise. Unfortunately he was not prostrate before a high ranking noble, offering penance, but right in the way at the side of the hospital bed. Doctor Astirdar pushed at him with her foot and barked an order to get out of the way, and he shuffled backwards a metre, keeping his head pressed to the tiles and eyes lowered.

The checks on Tads took about thirty minutes to complete, and Shimazu stayed in position the whole time, while they made sure she was comfortable and making progress. Eventually though, they left her, and she could turn her head over to the side, staring for a moment at the raised form of his ass.

"Shimazu, get up. What are you doing down there?"

"I'm sorry Tads – I was supposed to protect you. I failed."

"Don't be silly, we were supposed to protect each other. I just got unlucky. Come up here."

He raised his body, looking into her sunken and blotchy face. She was still pale and wan, but her eyes twinkled at him, and it was clear she certainly felt no anger or disappointment in him. He pulled up a chair and moved to sit with her, sliding his sword back into the scabbard and keeping his hand resting on the pommel, looking over her astrally.

Around the ward, the few new patients that had been injured during training watched, but none of them laughed at the display. Shimazu was pretty big for a human, and carrying a sword for starters – and it never paid to annoy targets like that. More so, especially since the parade, the word had gotten around that while most of the visitors weren't Russians, they had fought for Russia against the shapeshifters – and had handled themselves pretty well as it went. They might not be soldiers, but that didn't mean they weren't dangerous – whoever they were. And besides, the Brigadier had met with them personally, and they seemed to have his favour.

Shimazu stared at Tads, and inside his shame ate at him. She hadn't shouted at him, hadn't demanded his loyalty or set him a task of atonement. It was as if she didn't really care or it didn't bother her at all! Tads meanwhile concentrated on checking herself out, feeling her body and testing her magic to see what the damage was, unaware of what was going through his head.

"Just sit back a minute, will you, Shimazu?" Her voice was croaky and the words sounded odd – until he remembered that she'd not spoken at all for nearly three weeks. She waited for him to sit upright on his chair, moving his hands away from her. With a great deal of effort she raised her hands, positioning one above her groin, the other over her heart, and then closed her eyes. The fingers trembled, then started to move, wiggling in a sinuous fashion as she sent mana through them. Golden motes flowed down from each digit, weaving in and out of her body as they flowed throughout her. Her hands moved faster, dancing back and forth as she concentrated and the golden light intensified, forming a glow that cast a radiance like the sun throughout the ward. All around them troopers struggled to sit up and stared, open mouthed and agog as the magic intensified around her. The golden light deepened as she poured energy into the spell, the mana repairing the burst blood vessels, shoring up the muscles around her chest, strengthening her and repairing the brutal damage done – including the huge scar down her chest from the trauma surgery. It did nothing for the ancient scarring from the fire that had nearly ended her life so many years before – powerful as it was, it wasn't that strong.

Dr Astirdar appeared at her doorway, watching with her head cocked to one side, staring into the brightness with a guarded expression. She watched as the glow peaked, her pupils contracting to tiny pinpricks under the violent assault of intense light, then slowly widening as the glow faded away. When the glow suddenly ceased the room seemed darker and colder somehow, lacking the life giving energy and left only with the harsh light of the overhead fluorescent tubes.

"How are you feeling now?"

"Better physically, but tired. That was hard work. Bit of a headache."

"Well, you should rest then. Good night." Tads looked confused, for a moment, but then her features cleared as the sedative rushed through the drip into her body, as the doctor slipped her a sedative as adroitly as she had to Hunter.

Over in the aerodrome, Marius had also reached a critical point – but it was with his patience, not the progress on the choppers. He finally found the right time – catching the Group Captain alone, walking from his office towards the maintenance area. With no one around, Marius figured he could speak honestly and openly, not having to worry about his men or his image.

"Captain Gorchenski! I had hoped to catch you. Progress is being made with the last of the helicopters, but I wanted to check that the two aircraft we had returned to service were functioning correctly and that you were happy with the results. I had hoped you would be, but whenever I have seen you, it appears that something is bothering you." Marius spoke carefully, aware that his natural cleverness often came across as condescension or in a patronising fashion, and trying hard not to be confrontational. He and Nadia had discussed this, and she was right – they needed his help still, and he could make their lives so much easier – or harder – that it really made sense to go out of their way to keep him happy. The look on his face told him otherwise, though.

"You people! Coming in here, from wherever, under some dark rock, no doubt! I don't know what you have done for the Brigadier but I owe you nothing! Nothing, do you hear me! I'm not part of his precious Brigade, we're an independent formation. But no, you weren't getting what you wanted from me, so you went running to him behind my back like a spoilt child!" Flecks of spittle burst from his lip as he hissed at Marius. He was self-aware enough not to shout, keeping his voice pitched low to avoid attracting attention from the men, but the anger on his face and the guttural tone in his voice was unmistakeable.

"Not content with that, you get him to speak to Moscow, don't deny it! Not a day later I get a communique telling me that I need to follow the Brigadier's example, and produce results not excuses! My people are good, I tell you, we work hard to defend our country and we don't need some know-it all child coming in here and demanding special privileges! I may have to give you what you need while the Brigadier is around, but don't think for one minute that I have to like it!" The last sentence was punctuated with a finger poking into his sternum, and Marius felt his temper rise, but he fought hard to remain passive, keeping his face calm and letting the Captain blow off steam. As the Captain finished, he turned on his heel, stalking off swiftly towards the maintenance area, leaving a confused Marius standing in the middle of the road.

He replayed their conversations, his photographic memory bringing back the scenes with clarity and precision. They'd not spoken that often, and no matter which way he figured it, he couldn't come up with a reason for the enmity between them – there must be something else at work here. Unless someone else on the team had done something he was unaware of, there was just no reason for the anger at all.

Tads was laid up in bed for another four days while her body finished healing the damage that she had been unable to cure magically – but it was a far cry from what it should have taken her. All told it had been just shy of a month since her near-death experience, but given the nature of her injuries, everyone had expected her to take four to sixth months to recover fully.

Marius and Nadia had finished the repairs on their chopper, and it was sitting on an out of the way apron, cloth covering the engine intakes and the massive rotor tied down to prevent damage. All of the systems were functional, and mechanically she was sound – though lacking in creature comforts. Cannibalising the other craft to the point that many of them were now just skeletal wrecks, they had complete armour coverage against small arms over the entire craft, along with a decent radar and imaging system, camera coverage and sensors on all the major components fed into a cobbled-together flight management system. A chemical toilet had been ripped from one of the VIP transports left behind, along with a small locker system that held airline style clip-in trays safely. The rear of the craft had the original folding seats down either side of the craft, and a vast amount of cargo space.

Hunter had been training hard, Aswon had made initial contact with the snipers who had taken the shots from the helicopters and Shimazu had assensed so much of the base that his face was now a part of the scenery and people just took the vaguely smiling Japanese man for granted.

Kai approached the team as they settled down for dinner though, with a big grin on his face.

"I got some good news folks. Having a Chat with Captain Zarkorov, and while he's still pretty firm about the special ammo – which given what we suspect it might be, I'm not actually that fussed about any more – says the Brigadier is pleased as punch. Turns out he's been in touch with Patrick, and has decided to up our reward a little bit, on top of letting us keep the chopper."

The others waited patiently, watching Kai and wishing he'd get to the point before their dinner got cold.

"I think you're going to like this. Marius, in particular. He noted that the chopper was a bit lacking offensively, and offered to let me have something from the armoury. It sounded impressive, but I'm not sure how impressive. But I wanted to see your face when I told you." Marius narrowed his eyes in suspicion at Kai.

"Do we want an NSV tripod mounted heavy machine gun, chambered in 12.7 X 108mm with a box of fifty rounds of tungsten cored armour piercing munitions, along with a box of a thousand rounds of regular ammo?"

Kai smiled as the fork slipped out of the German's hands and clattered on the plate, his head nodding frantically while he searched for words.

"Thought so, good job I said yes, then. So – now we've got a helicopter with a gun and the team is ready to go – what are we going to do next?"