THE JAGUAR
The infantry fighting vehicle's engine roared, the sound changing pitch every few seconds as it swung left and right sharply. The movement up, down and side-to-side was throwing everyone inside around like toys, the driver struggled with the controls.
Lucas found his head thrown back against the bulkhead, once and twice. His helmet protected his skull, but the angle was enough to shift it a little more, almost over his eyes. Caralho! "Hey, watch where you're driving!" he shouted forwards, "We're getting the shit knocked out of us!"
"There's fucking gnarly trees everywhere!" the answer came back.
"Shut it!" Sergeant MacDonald commanded, even as his head knocked against Private Williams' helmet.
Lucas obeyed. Normally it would have been the Sergeant asking the FNG driver to watch where they were going. If MacDonald wasn't complaining, then he was thinking about something else. What the hell is going on?
All of a sudden, the brakes screeched and every passenger of the vehicle slid in their seats towards the front.
"Dismount!" MacDonald shouted, opening the door beside him, "Move yourselves!" The section piled out of the LAV and followed the Sergeant forward of the vehicle.
Lucas followed, getting a glimpse of the platoon HQ and reserve section vehicles as they came to a halt among the trees. He almost slipped on the snow, but Taylor pushed him upright again just in time.
The section moved forward and spread out in front of a clearing, as did B section to the left. Lucas ordered Taylor onto a tree stump to set up the light machinegun, and put a grenade into the launcher under his own rifle's barrel. Everyone looked the same in their arctic camo, masks and helmets. Only their height, weapons and name tags distinguishing them. The near-anonymous line of soldiers settled down and waited.
"Okay, ladies, gentlemen, fellow gravel technicians," Lieutenant Jones announced over the comms, like she was calling a hockey game, "We've got some guests. Do not fire unless the order is given. Break out the 84 and SRAAW."
Are there tanks out there we need bazookas for? Lucas thought idly, as MacDonald ordered another man back to fetch the bigger anti-tank weapon.
The answer came a moment later; the sound of whirring helicopter blades in the distance. The huge clearing was the only piece of large and clear ground nearby that wasn't part of the base that had been built up around the Spiral. It had been used as a landing spot for logistics flights already. Where the hell is the Air Force?
Lucas found his palms itching like he had pins and needles when the aircraft finally came into view. They were painted black against the darkening sky of the approaching evening, which was ominous enough. But their shape was more so; they were tilt-rotor Osprey helicopters. And there was only one group it could possibly be.
The Americans.
Lucas couldn't keep his mouth shut. "Sergeant," he said over the radio.
"Yes?" MacDonald grunted back.
"Is it just me or are those American helicopters coming towards us?"
Taylor shifted uncomfortably, his helmet turning this and that way with his head as yet more of the aircraft came into view.
A short pause. "I don't see any markings," the Sergeant replied, terse.
As if that means shit. Lucas knew further argument was pointless, and settled down on his knee. The dozen helicopters wasted no time at all, dropping their altitude and arriving over the clearing at tree-top height. The wash of the rotors sent freezing air gusting towards the platoon's defence line, forcing everyone to drop their goggles over their eyes.
The black aircraft touched down, and began releasing their passengers; light vehicles and platoons of infantry in dark colours. A full company of light infantry disembarked in mere minutes, and drew up in their own line opposite, well clear of their transports. The helicopters soon began turning off their engines, the newcomers having no intention of leaving any time soon.
A screech from above announced the arrival of two Royal Canadian Air Force F18s, buzzing the landing zone. Too little, too late, Lucas thought bitterly.
The guests were in the open and didn't have infantry fighting vehicles, but there were three to four times as many of them… and it wasn't hard to pick out that they had anti-tank weapons, ready to shoot.
The jets circled the site, apparently deciding to watch what happened next instead of getting involved. But time seemed to stretch on interminably as both Army and guest soldiers stared across no-man's land in between. Both sides seemed reluctant to raise their weapons, aside from the machineguns and AT weapons that couldn't be brought into use quickly.
Something happen already, Lucas complained to himself, his pins and needles spreading up his arm. It was irrational a thought as someone could have; the rest of the company was mustering at base and would arrive soon, every minute that passed by reduced the chance of things getting out of control.
Three men walked from the helicopters to the guests' line; someone in charge with an armed escort by the way those nearest reacted when they arrived. The trio spent only half a minute there before walking towards the Canadian line, slowly.
Lucas watched carefully, before he noticed Taylor tracking the group with his light machinegun. He tapped the corporal on his shoulder. "Don't aim at them," he ordered, "They want to talk. We want them coming as close as possible."
"Got it," Taylor replied, pointing the barrel of the C9 elsewhere.
Lucas felt a tap on his shoulder in turn. He turned and found a tall lieutenant standing over him. It was Jones. With her was Private Mactin, the signaller.
"Master-Corporal Teixeira, you're with me," she said, her breath smoking and her tone amused, "Since you're so smart."
Fuck. "Yes, ma'am," Lucas replied reflexively, getting up.
With a lack of caution that was crazy, the Lieutenant quickly led the way, moving to the side so she wasn't in the way of the machinegun and then straight out into the clearing to meet the parley of the guests. Lucas and Mactin followed behind her to either side, all three of them with their rifles in hand and ready to use them.
All of the guests had American Army colours on under their arctic jackets, although their insignia and names were missing or covered in black tape. Two carried modern Heckler and Koch carbines with all the Gucci kit a soldier could possibly want. All three wore pistols. Their helmets were special forces types, more to allow the wearer to have night vision goggles, of which all three had multi-lens versions already attached.
Fucking robot ninjas, Lucas grumbled to himself, Probably can see through walls. He could see platoons on the right and left of the presumably-American force creeping off into the woods, looking to get around the obstacle of the Canadian line.
"That's far enough," Lieutenant Jones declared when the guests got within twenty yards. They stopped without complaint.
The guy in the middle took another few steps forward and pulled down his mask to his chin, revealing a face with grey hair and wrinkles to either side of his sharp eyes. "I am Colonel Davis of the United States Space Force." His eyes shifted to look at the LT's weapons, and his lips curved with amusement. "What are your intentions? To shoot your allies?"
Lucas snorted, causing the man's gaze to sweep over him briefly. Space Force? Seriously?
"Lieutenant Jones, First Battalion, Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry," the LT replied politely, "Space Force?"
Davis smiled widely now. Lucas couldn't tell if it was genuine or not. "All extraterrestrial matters are our purview, Lieutenant."
Jones sniffed loudly, unimpressed. "You're on the wrong side of the border. Did you get lost?"
Davis sniffed, the cold getting to him. "It appears there's been a misunderstanding, Lieutenant. The President has already spoken with your Prime Minister, and orders are being filtered down your chain of command right now. I don't know how much you've been told about the situation, but it's not an exaggeration to say the security of the world is at stake. What could happen here would not just affect Canada, you have a responsibility to the rest of us."
Lucas' jaw clenched. He probably knew more than the LT did through his talks with Anne Cloutier. And what he knew was crazy stuff. This was inevitable, he realised.
Jones clicked her tongue. "I haven't been told much. But you're probably right, Colonel."
Davis smiled. "You're a sensible officer, Lieutenant. We'll move back to your camp together and get settled in. Sound good?"
Crap. Lucas quietly flicked his thumb over his rifle's safety. Jones was somewhat new to the platoon, having replaced Duquesne six months earlier, but everyone knew something; she had a chip on her shoulder.
"No problem," Jones smiled back, "As soon as I receive orders to allow you to join our camp." Crap, Lucas thought to himself, The LT is enjoying herself.
"Those orders are coming soon," Davis said with complete assurance, "We both know it's your brass, dragging their feet. You lost some people, you want them back. And you know, I get it."
He held up a finger. "That said, it would be both polite and good politics to let us come in now. It's going to get cold out here, we might not get camp built up quickly enough."
"Those helicopters look pretty warm," Lucas commented, "Especially if you get the engines working again. Hell, it's plenty warm down south."
The Colonel seemed to regard Lucas like a dog had just stood up on its hind legs and spoke with him. Or a corporal, he reminded himself, A corporal that just snarked at a Colonel.
"If only going south was an option," Davis said, "You see, we flew here from Montana and we're quite low on fuel now. Long trip. It really would be best for us to come to your camp."
"Not my call," Jones stated, "Sorry."
David threw up his arms a little. "I understand completely. But hypothetically, I do wonder how you would stop us from just walking or driving to the base. That is the only reason you would come out here and set up like you have. Textbook perfect deployment, by the way. Still, it's unwise, considering we can just go around."
The LT shrugged, her fingers spreading from their grasp around her rifle's grips. "We have plenty of fuel. We can drive ahead to wherever you move."
"You're outnumbered. We can just split up."
"We have armoured vehicles. You have a few buggies."
"Your stuff against Javelins and TOW missiles… Not sure how that would work for you."
"Lots of tree branches in the way. Bushmasters autocannons against grounded aircraft though… that would be fireworks. And you know that, it's the only reason you're talking to a lowly platoon leader."
The Lieutenant and Colonel stared at each other. The implication of combat had crept into their back-and-forth so suddenly that Lucas hoped they were bluffing. NATO allies shooting at each other in the Northwest Territories? It seemed impossible. But so was a portal to another world. And the road to the riches of another world.
"If we have nothing else to say, then…" Lieutenant Jones began, before her radio crackled in her ear. Her mouth closed with an audible click, as she listened to the transmission. Colonel Davis waited patiently for her to continue.
Here it comes, Lucas said to himself, The inevitable.
"Yes, sir, understood," Jones said into her mouthpiece after a minute.
"Getting new orders?" Davis said, his tone lacking any sense of victory. Man needs an Oscar, Lucas grimaced.
"You got lucky," Jones replied flatly. The Colonel pursed his lips slightly, doubting it.
The Lieutenant nonetheless walked over to him, and offered her hand. "Welcome to Canadian Forces Base Monolith, Colonel."
Davis took the hand and shook it. "A pleasure, Lieutenant."
The F18s flew overhead again, moving south fast, probably for their home at Cold Lake. Like it was the fat lady singing, Jones turned on her heel and marched back towards the line. Lucas followed, not daring to look back and see if the Americans were walking behind too.
Things just got more complicated.
Lucas had just propped up his weapon against his bunk and taken off his helmet when the alarm was raised again. Sergeant MacDonald stood into the doorway of the barracks. He wasted no time in roaring for the section to grab their cold-weather coats and assemble outside with their weapons. Every man did as he was ordered, quickly throwing on their arctic warfare kit once again.
Lucas was the last one out of the prefabricated building, and into what was now night-time.
It was warming up relative to what it had been like when the First Battalion had arrived to relieve the Third. Now, winter was beginning to slip away, but it was still far too cold in Lucas' opinion. It was the kind that left you unable to smell anything as your nose flooded up. The sky was clear, and the stars were overhead, but angry clouds were on the horizon and moving closer.
His boots crunching into the snow, he found the whole platoon in a loose double line in front of the barracks area at the edge of the base. Even the guys who drove the LAVs and manned the vehicles' turrets. Ahead of the lot was Lieutenant Jones and about seven MPs, recognisable by their red berets and ears that were almost the same colour from the cold.
Police? Lucas thought as he joined his section, What the hell is this? His mind raced with images of them all being arrested for standing up to the Americans. He must've been very deep into them, because he almost missed MacDonald nudging him to get his attention.
"Teixeira," the Sergeant growled, "Wake yourself up now. Follow me."
MacDonald marched straight towards the meathead cops and the LT. Lucas dared not defy him, though his instincts screamed at him to run like hell. Calm down, you'd be in custody already if they wanted it, his rational mind said, They're not going to screw with you. It didn't help. Childhood memories wouldn't go away.
Lucas arrived close behind the Sergeant, and they both saluted the LT more sharply than usual. The presence of the military police even has the Sarge worried.
"Master-Corporal Teixeira as requested, ma'am," MacDonald stated.
Lieutenant Jones nodded, and her cool green eyes settled on Lucas. His palms began to itch again, but he kept any flicker of emotion from his face. "Corporal, you know Doctor Cloutier well, right?"
Lucas' eyes narrowed before he caught himself. What does Anne have to do with all this? "Yes, ma'am."
"Good," Jones replied, "We have a situation. Our orders have changed, we're now locking down the site completely. No contact is to be had with… what ever the hell that ghost thing saw is. Problem is someone tipped off the civvies."
"Someone in Ottawa," the only woman MP said, "We think Doctor Cloutier is politically connected…"
"That doesn't matter," Jones interrupted, "What does is that she has got the civvies together and they're camped out on the Spiral like a god damned college protest."
Lucas grinned to himself. Of course they have.
"What's so funny?" the Sergeant asked, gruff.
"Sorry, Sergeant," Lucas said, "But that does sound like Anne. She gives off the whole college professor image, you know? Doesn't surprise me she's leading a protest."
The Lieutenant rubbed the back of her neck, biting her cheek. "We need to clear that spiral of anyone on it, Corporal," she said, urgency in her tone.
That sounded utterly crazy. "Aren't we about to talk to someone over there?" Lucas objected, "We can't just manhandle our citizens!"
The Lieutenant's face fell. "Corporal… other governments know about this thing now, and they don't trust us to fight off a potential invasion alone. And we don't want to. Our own government doesn't want to take sole responsibility for this. It's not hard to understand why. Mistakes have already been made."
Though his mind burned at the idea of anyone else protecting the country, Lucas bit his tongue and fell back on basic military discipline. "What do you need, ma'am?" he said, almost robotically.
"Talk Cloutier out of it," said the female MP, "Get her to bring her people off the Spiral."
"She won't listen to me," Lucas objected, "You do realise that?"
"She won't have a choice," Jones replied, "The rest of us are going to be there, Corporal." She gestured at the platoon behind him. All fully armed, armoured and ready to roughly treat anyone who said they'd be sticking around where they shouldn't.
Lucas stood a bit straighter. Okay, there is definitely no choice. "Yes, ma'am," he said, resigned to the duty ahead, "I'll talk to her."
"Good," Jones said, a sympathetic look with the word, "Stick by me until it's time. Sergeant, return to your section. We're moving out on foot. Don't think we need armoured vehicles to deal with civvies."
MacDonald let out a single laugh. "She doesn't seem like the folding type, ma'am."
"The professor will regret it if she doesn't," Jones replied flatly, returning the salute.
The Sergeant's moustache twitched with amusement before he saluted again and marched off to rejoin the platoon. Lucas was left on his own with the Lieutenant and the cops. Things only got worse as Warrant Officer Faucher showed up, the tallest man in the company towering over him and glaring. The man never forgave Lucas' role in forcing Duquesne out of the battalion.
Crap, what have I got myself into…
The platoon got into a rough marching formation and moved out, the cop group walking alongside it. The rest of the camp was soon turning out of buildings to watch. Startled Parks Canada and Rangers personnel intermingled with less confused but equally interested members of other units, crowding at doors and intersections.
To the surprise of no one, the gates to the Spiral's enclosure were now guarded by the Americans as well as soldiers of the Patricia's. They must've been too late to stop Anne and her friends, Lucas thought with amusement as he passed by the masked Yanks with unmarked uniforms, I'll have to congratulate her on panicking their President.
The platoon passed with little incident. Soon, they were in the floodlit area with big stones as well as the scientists' quarters, labs and archaeological morgues. More MPs surrounded the fenced-off Spiral itself, but not enough to hide the large crowd in its centre. Lucas winced as he counted up almost fifty civilians in the middle, recognising many of the faces as the top scientists in the various fields that had been necessary to analyse the phenomenon.
Lieutenant Jones and Warrant Faucher soon split up the platoon into two groups, with Faucher leading two sections around to the other side. The LT kept MacDonald's one with her, along with the Weapons Detachment and vehicle crews. Jones gave the command, and most of the platoon scaled the cattle fence simultaneously.
Well Anne, you're surrounded, Lucas thought, Now I get to play good cop. He couldn't see her in the crowd yet. But he knew that would change soon.
"Right Corporal, you're up," the LT said, "See if we can't end this quietly." She gave a nod to the MPs, and one of them gave a thumbs up.
Lucas said nothing before trudging forward through the snow, the cops in step with him. It seemed to get even more cold the closer he got, but he was soon over the fence himself and moving past his section-mates towards the cluster of civilians. Most of them were bundled up pretty well in cold-weather gear, and they had even brought gas stoves and a barbecue with them to provide hot food and drink.
This was planned well, he realised, wondering just how long the preparations must have taken. Did the scientists always expect trouble?
He recognised Doctor Shih at once, her small frame and constant frown clear giveaways even if she was so wrapped up, she looked like a black bear cub. She soon saw him too, and began shouting into the crowd.
Anne Cloutier appeared a few seconds later. Her nose was red, but aside from that, she was still rocking the hot-professor thing Lucas had come to appreciate over the last couple of months. Curly brown hair, grey eyes, and of course, a brain. He would've made a move before, except she was way too smart for the likes of him. And now we're going to be enemies, he thought sadly, Now I'm the boot.
"Lucas," Anne called, separating herself from Shih and walking over, "You brought some friends."
A pang of guilt hit him like a slap. Jesus, this is going to be harder than I thought. "Yeah, sorry about that."
Anne regarded the military police with him with a cocked eyebrow, squinting on account of the floodlights. "Are you going to introduce them?"
Lucas didn't want to. "Actually, I don't know their names."
"Are they here to arrest us?" she asked.
He didn't actually know the answer to that. Will they try that if I don't talk her down? he wondered. "They're just here," he said.
"Well, they're welcome to stay," Anne said carefully, eyes locked with the woman MP beside him, "Our visitor will be returning tomorrow morning, and I'm sure we'll have a breakthrough. History in the making."
Here we go. "You can't," Lucas said, "The government is locking this place down, Anne. They don't trust your visitor… and I have to admit, I don't blame them. That guy was creepy as hell."
Anne inhaled and sighed hard. "He's a man from another world, Lucas. Do you have any idea how significant that is?"
"Not really," he admitted, "All I know is politicians are afraid of this. They think the doorway, portal, whatever could be used to invade our world."
Anne shook with silent laughter. "Invade? Invade what? The middle of nowhere? Every one of our visitors has been armed with a sword or spear, Lucas. Your colleagues all around us could probably defeat an army on their own." She swung a finger around at the platoon standing just inside the fence-line.
"We're the threat to them, not the other way around," she continued, "And we can't let the military or the government cover this up. If we're going to make contact with another world, the process needs to be transparent, for the protection of everyone living on the other side. And for Canada's protection too, from the powers that be on this world."
Lucas frowned. He knew she had thrown in that last part for his benefit. An appeal to patriotism… The attempt at manipulation annoyed him "That's not your decision to make, Anne," he said, "If you feel that way, run for office. All I know is that you won't get far if you're in trouble for camping out here. And if you want to talk about danger… Did you forget this thing we're standing on swallowed up a whole squad?"
Anne's lips moved around as she contemplated that. "We're aware of that danger," she said, "But the conditions aren't the same. No aurora, see?" She waved up at the sky.
Lucas blinked, not sure of the significance of that. "Does that matter?"
Anne grimaced "Ah, sorry, forgot you might not know about that."
Shifting his weight, Lucas felt like the ground might swallow him up. Not knowing what triggered the event that had brought them to the remote NWT remained unpleasant. I need to hurry up.
"Anne, please, just come back with me. Bring the rest of the scientists out of here. Your contribution can't be ignored, and this can't be hidden forever. It's the Canadian government we're talking about, they leak like a a bucket that's been used for target practice."
"Sure, Lucas," Anne agreed, "I'll agree to go… after we've met our visitor tomorrow morning. That's my final word on the subject." She turned to go back to the group.
"Not good enough," an MP said, one of the six men this time. The woman MP was too busy talking to someone on her radio, and when the reply came through, Lucas realised it was Lieutenant Jones on the other end.
"Anne Cloutier," another MP said, "You're under arrest for trespass." Another moved to take her by the arms. She shook them off.
"I am fully authorised to be here," she objected.
"Not any more," the woman MP said, "Your authorisation has been rescinded."
Anne pushed the next cop away, barely moving the man. The push was all the cops needed.
Three men jumped her, pushing her to the ground and grabbing her arms to push behind her back. Handcuffs were produced, and clicked as the first was tightened around her wrist. The crowd began shouting at the MPs, as the remaining four fanned out to put themselves in between the scientists and their leader.
This is really why they wanted me here. "Hey, easy!" Lucas said loudly, "You'll hurt her."
The MPs kneeling beside her looked up, as much as his rifle as to meet his eyes. Yeah, that's right, I'm better armed than you are.
"Move in," said MacDonald over the comms.
Lucas turned around and found his section approaching. A glance each way and it was obvious the order had been given to seize the whole group of scientists. The other two sections were moving in too. Only the Lieutenant, Warrant Officer and the crews remained behind.
The shouting became louder, and Lucas could no longer pick out the words anyone was saying. His platoon began trying to corral the scientists away, as Anne was hauled back onto her feet, her hands now firmly locked behind her back. That seemed to set off everyone else into a frenzy of waving arms and pointed fingers, the volume rising to full-throated roaring.
This is getting out of control. Lucas went to calm the situation down, trying to make it to Shih and Taylor.
A bright flash like lightning burst everywhere, and silence fell.
Light turned to pitch darkness for a moment, movement to complete stillness.
It felt like an age before Lucas could take another step, like he had been rooted to the spot. When he did try, he stumbled, and not just because he couldn't see.
A wave of heat rolled out of nowhere, like opening an oven with your head too close. Have the floodlights exploded? he thought.It seemed the only explanation, until he realised the heat did not want to disappear. It just lingered.
The civilians began shedding their clothing at once, unable to take it.
The smell of forest came next, plants and dirt and water all at once as Lucas' nose thawed out. It seemed trapped in the air by a humidity, the combination with the heat making him begin to sweat through his coat and uniform.
A flock of large black birds flapped low overhead, causing everyone to duck before the animals disappeared into the dark. Not about to let that surprise happen again, Lucas quickly turned on the flashlight attached to the end of his rifle. Others in the platoon were doing the same, and scientists lit up their camplights too.
Murmurs of fear rumbled before Lucas could see the reason for it. He looked up pointing his weapon and its beam of light outwards, in the same direction as MacDonald nearby.
A white tree snarled back, eyes and a mouth carved into its bark and what looked like black-red sap pouring from the cuttings. Lucas felt cold again briefly, as more of the things appeared in the sweeping lights of the platoon. Dozens of them. The black crows or ravens that had flown over head stood in the branches, watching.
Lucas couldn't shut up now. "What the fuck…" he said, "We're on the other side."
The statement of the obvious seemed to shake the Sergeant into action.
"Perimeter!" MacDonald shouted, "Now! Civilians to the middle!"
The platoon backed away from the scientists and knelt down in a circle around them, weapons aimed outwards. It took Lucas a few seconds to understand why they were following the Sergeant's orders; the Lieutenant, the Warrant and the platoon that hadn't stepped onto the Spiral were now nowhere to be found. That means…
"What's going on?" Anne rasped from the ground, "What are those trees?!" The fear in her voice almost made Lucas shiver.
"Quiet," the MPs said as one.
Lucas turned to MacDonald. "What about Doctor Cloutier?" The MPs and the professor herself tore their gaze away from the forest of horrors beyond.
The Sergeant shook his head rapidly, and jabbed a finger towards the cops. "Take the cuffs off her and stick her with the others," he said, "We've got other fish to fry."
"She's still under arrest," one of the MPs stated.
MacDonald left the circle formation, his eyes wide and sharp with anger. The Sergeant squared up to the man at once. "This is now a combat situation and I just gave you an order," he stated with plenty of menace, "Now's not the time for this. Take the cuffs off, and put her with the others."
Lucas moved into the MPs' view with a side-step, ready to support the Sergeant. The cops took one look at his rifle once again, and got the picture.
"Do as he says," the female MP said quickly, "Look."
The birds were being joined in the branches by strange, small creatures. They looked vaguely like children, but their eyes were slitted and reflected the light of the flashlights, like cats. They're the dead things from under the stones! Lucas raised his weapon at once. The MP's nearest colleague grabbed the keys so quickly he dropped them.
The Sergeant grunted with satisfaction, unphased by the new arrivals. "Stay over there, watch the trees," he said to the cops, pointing at a spot in the perimeter that was between the sections, "We don't know what they want." The MPs walked off, pistols in hand.
Anne stood and rubbed her wrists, pulling off her gloves and coat.
"Contact!" called Taylor, pointing off in front of him.
Every person looked. Lucas could see a faint orange glow approaching. It didn't take long to see the source; hundreds of people approaching on foot, carrying fiery torches.
"Firing line," Sergeant MacDonald commanded, the order echoing over the comms, "Machineguns to the flanks."
Lucas tapped Taylor on the shoulder and waved him to the side, as the Sergeant had ordered. The man laid down and set up his weapon on its bipod, checking the belt of bullets to feed it was ready to go. As if they were still at the clearing, waiting for the American helicopters, the platoon drew up to shoot down whatever was coming.
Here we go… again.
The oncoming mob stopped short of breaking out into the open, seeming to recognise the threat in front of them. They were barely dressed, some of them stripped down to what amounted to loincloths made of animal skins. Lucas would've thought them no threat at all, except every single one of them was armed with swords, spears or bows.
A young woman with long red hair in braids stepped out; one hand wrapped around a bow of white wood like the trees all around, the other raised. She shouted something at the mob, and then towards the platoon.
"Any idea what she's saying?" Lucas asked Anne.
"No," Anne said softly.
The lack of communication seemed to send the woman pacing and turning. Does she expect us to be able to speak her language? The mob seemed to grow by the second, more and more armed men and women gawping.
"Into the air!" the Sergeant commanded, "Three shots rapid!"
The line erupted, the muzzle flashes illuminating a dense forest beyond the few trees that could be seen, every trunk carved with a face of anguish. Branches overhead briefly appeared in the light of the flying tracer bullets, hanging from a truly massive tree. Lucas hadn't noticed it behind the group. The mob recoiled at once, running behind the trees and putting arrows to their bows. Except for the young woman in front. She simply looked on, standing in the open, alone. There was a rustling from all around too, as the child-creatures jumped from the branches and back into the dark.
Lucas lowered his weapon and looked to MacDonald. "We should try talking, Sarge. They're too close if they rush us. That ghost with the birthmark on his face tipped them off."
The professor cut in. "Is that what happened though? He didn't look anything like them." She gestured at the barbarians beyond.
MacDonald ignored them."Three more!" the Sergeant ordered. Again the air lit up with bullets, again more of the mob withdrew. But not enough.
"Cease fire!" came a new shout from the forest in English, "Company formation!" This was followed by another sentence in the language the young woman had already used. More flashlights shone from behind the mob, moving through it.
The warriors seemed to jump, not welcoming the command. Still, they sheathed their swords and put their arrows back in their quivers. Hundreds moved just behind the trees. and began assembling in lines. What were obviously NCOs were moving up and down, trying to push and pull people into their correct positions.
Christ it's like a boot camp, Lucas realised, And there's only one way they could've learned that.
Two new figures emerged from the moving men and women, carrying rifles. A tall man and an average-height woman, wearing camo-pattern kevlar vests over shorts and a t-shirt. The green beret of the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry sat on both their heads. They immediately began barking orders at the others, and finally, the mob completed its transformation from a complete gaggle-fuck into a fully drilled company.
Sergeant O'Neill and Corporal Zheng, Lucas realised, recalling the descriptions and photographs of the missing soldiers. His stomach seemed to lurch with the realisation they couldn't possibly be alone.
The bastard Duquesne himself walked almost casually from a gap between the warriors, his rifle slung and his uniform jacket unbuttoned. The man wasn't grinning like Lucas remembered he did often, and he was thinner than before too. With him was a young man in a red hoodie and shorts, carrying a scoped rifle. The missing Ranger.
"Holy shit," said Williams nearby, "It's Angel Eyes." The rest of the platoon seemed to relax, like the declaration made it true, led by those that had survived their last tour of duty with him. Fuck.
"Stand down, but keep sharp," MacDonald ordered over the comms, "I'll talk to Duquesne." Acknowledgements came over the line from the other section sergeants.
Lucas felt hatred burn in him as the Lieutenant drew closer, walking straight for the MacDonald. You lucky son of a bitch, how are you still alive…
"Who commands here?" Duquesne said, apparently not able to see anything. The platoon probably just looked like silhouettes to him.
The Sergeant exchanged a glance with Lucas. Yeah, you're not happy either. "I command here, sir," MacDonald said.
Duquesne stopped and cocked his head forward in surprise. "MacDonald, is that you?" He pulled out a flashlight of his own and lit it up.
"Aye, the whole platoon too," the Sergeant confirmed, "Plus a bunch of civilians."
The Lieutenant glanced around. "I don't see Faucher or Jones," he continued, "Where are they? What the hell are you doing here?"
The Sergeant did not answer. Lucas wanted to, but he found he didn't have a response.
Anne stepped forward. "Looking for you, in theory," she said, "Doctor Anne Cloutier. We found the place you fell off the Earth. Looks like we've fallen after you."
Lieutenant Duquesne nodded. "Your luck is almost as terrible as ours then," he said, "But at least you landed softly."
The Ranger in the hoodie snorted his agreement.
"This wasn't soft, sir," MacDonald said.
Duquesne narrowed his eyes. "We lost Arran and Singh inside fifteen minutes of landing, Sergeant."
"How?" MacDonald looked to the barbarians. "Did they do it, sir? Have you been stuck in this forest this whole time?"
The Lieutenant hesitated, glancing back towards O'Neill and Zheng. "Not exactly. We came out somewhere else in the world. It took us months to get to this place, it's the only way home that we've been able to find."
"And you just proved it," the Ranger chirped happily, rolling on his heels.
"Where are we?" Lucas asked, before he remembered who he was talking to, "Sir?"
Lieutenant Duquesne paced over to him slowly, inspecting. His tongue was working in his mouth. He's deciding what to do about me.
Lucas tightened his grip on his rifle, regretting his life choices more as the seconds rolled by. It was only when the prick broke out in his familiar sneering smile that the danger passed.
"Welcome to Westeros, Corporal Teixeira," Duquesne said at last, "But it might as well be called Hell."