Date Tuesday 09/03/2060, Location 53.38042, 50.27575

Tads caught up with the Captain as he turned and headed back to the building.

"Excuse me. What is the position about use of magic on the base? Are we permitted?"

"Well, that depends. If you're licenced by the Church, then yes, you can practice your magic. If you harm anyone, or affect the troops, then you'll be considered to be using a weapon in a pre-meditated fashion."

"Well, actually I am authorised by the Church. So providing I don't hurt anyone, then we're good, yes?" She watched the Captain nod. "Ok, thank you. I'll let you get back to your tasks." The Captain continued his route, striding off quickly towards the barracks blocks.

Tads grabbed Shimazu and asked for him to come with her, setting off towards the main administration building.

"Sure, where are we going, and what are we doing? And do I need my sword?"

"Um, yes. Yes, you will, but keep it hidden. Just enough contact that you can astrally perceive. I'm heading for the infirmary – they must have one here somewhere. There'll be lots of people needing help, with lots of things wrong with them. I thought it would be good practice for you to assense them." Shimazu grunted in agreement, and fell into step with her, and they strode off towards the oppressive looking central administration building, only pausing to grab his sword from the truck in passing.

Grey and drab, stained with weather marks, it rose up at least four stories over them, brutal concrete with an unfinished surface. The windows were thin, and covered with an adhesive film to block sight into the building, indicating a retrofit of old glass rather than replacement with polarised units, giving them the impression that the building was decades old.

They entered the lobby, and saw a sign board, then followed the guide towards the base hospital. As they walked down the corridors they saw plenty of uniformed troops, and drew some stares – but it seemed that now they were on the inside, they were assumed to belong here; at least nobody challenged them openly. The hospital was on the ground floor, at the western end of the building, and they entered the reception area, finding it as stark and utilitarian as the rest of the building. Shimazu wrinkled his nose as he tasted a sense of despair and pain in the astral realm, and squinted slightly in unconscious response.

Tads swept up to the desk where a female nurse sat entering data into a terminal, and ask to speak to the duty doctor. She was told to wait, and the nurse placed a call, asking Doctor Tolyev to come to the entrance. While they waited, she pulled out her commlink, and sent a message to Marius. 'Magic ok on base. Let me know when you go to look at aircraft. I can cast a spell on you to let you catalogue and index whatever you see near you – might make things quicker. Tads'

It only took a minute after hitting send, then a middle aged woman with her greying hair pulled up into a tight bun on the top of her head entered through a set of double doors. Wearing a standard white medical coat, she saw the nurse point, and followed her pointing finger towards Tads and Shimazu.

"I'm Doctor Tolyev. How can I help?"

"Actually, I'm here to offer my help. I'm a state and church licenced mage, with some ability to heal. I've spoken with the Brigadier's aide, and he said we were ok to offer some help with healing your men." The doctor blinked rapidly, and her eyes flitted from Tads to the silent form of Shimazu then back again.

"You can make our patients well again?"

"I can probably make some of them at least some part better. But there are no guarantees with magic. I can surely try though, and they won't get any worse, that much I can be certain of."

"Well, any step on the road to recovery is a good one. And you can fix all of them?"

"That depends. The more gravely they are wounded, the harder it is. It requires more mental energy, and I might become fatigued. So we need to work out some kind of order to address the people in, and try to do it steadily. "

"Hmm. So, it's like asking you to perform a long run or a route march, and perform operations? The further you go, the harder it will be?" Tads thought for a moment, then nodded – it was close enough. "Then we shall see. I wish to supervise this – these people are under my care." Tads nodded.

The doctor beckoned them to follow her, and led them through the double doors into a short corridor and to a t-junction. They turned right, into a ward full of basic metal beds, with soldiers lying in various positions, limbs bandaged, IV drips hanging from stands and metal bars and ropes forming traction apparatus in odd cases. Some of the soldiers were sitting up in bed, or in chairs by the sides of their beds, nursing lesser wounds, and a couple were slowly walking up and down the ward, some with crutches or holding on to the bed frames for support.

The doctor guided them to one patient, who lay on his bed slowly raising and lowering his leg, a look of pain on his face. Doctor Tolyev examined the chart carefully, then nodded.

"This should be a good test subject." The soldier stopped, and a look of concern crossed his face. "We have here a rip of the muscles, sustained after a fall onto the leg while completing the assault course. Restricted movement, moderate levels of sustained pain. This is a fairly simple injury, but moderately painful and limiting on their abilities." She turned to address the soldier, rather than Tads. "This is a mage, she is going to heal your wound. I will supervise." The soldier turned to Tads and looked her up and down.

"Nyet! This is not a priest. I reject this treatment." Tads blinked at the venom and certitude in his voice and wondered what his issue was. She watched him grab what looked to be an Orthodox Bible from his nightstand, which he held to his chest, with a fierce look of determination on his face. Shimazu took a step forwards and glowered down at the man, but he didn't seem the slightest bit intimidated and simply stared back with a look of defiance.

"I'll volunteer," came the voice from the next bed. Doctor Tolyev looked to have been about to overrule the dissenter, but instead she turned and took a step or two over to the adjacent bed.

"Hmm. Broken ankle, landed in a pothole while jumping down from a transport. Compound break and some tendon damage. Very well." Tads came over, and perched on the edge of the bed, holding her hands just above the proffered leg. All sounds on the ward had stopped, and everyone craned to see what was going on. Tads concentrated, calling power into her and trying to ignore the taint in the ward from the years of suffering and pain. The golden light extruded from her hands, suffusing the air around the leg, pulsing and growing brighter. There was an audible "ahhhh!" that rippled through the room as the soldiers saw this, and looks of concern on some faces. Tads concentrated, spending perhaps a minute performing the healing rite, letting the power flow through her, before it slowly faded away.

The room was so quiet, you could have heard a pin drop. For a moment, everyone was frozen in place, and dare not move. Then the soldier swung his legs over to the edge of the bed, and gently lowered them to the floor, gingerly putting some weight onto the bandaged ankle. Slowly at first, but then with more confidence, he increased the pressure, then pushed himself up from the bed. A look of joy crossed his face, and he suddenly strode out into the middle of the walkway, into the space between the two rows of beds and jumped up in the air, his feet landing with a slap onto the bare floor. He sunk into a deep squat, his buttocks almost touching the floor, then sprang up again, his ankle flexing entirely normally.

"Удивительно!" he called out, and there was a small cheer from a few of the soldiers.

"He said 'Amazing' Shimazu", Tads said quietly, and they watched as he strode up to the end of the ward, apparently heading for the doors out.

"Err, didn't your mother teach you to say anything?" she called out after him.

"No, I am from the orphanage. I had no mother…."

"Well, a thankyou is considered polite."

"Oh, then yes, thank you. I must go now!" And he did, pushing through the doors and almost skipping down the short corridor. Tads watched him for a moment, then sighed, and turned to the doctor.

"Treatment approved. If you need me, I'll be in my office." She pointed to a room at the other end of the ward, and then left in that direction, leaving Tads to continue her work. One other person appeared to object on religious grounds, someone who had managed to pour scalding water over his hand and arm. The wound was painful, but superficial, so Tads didn't bother arguing with him – it was his body, after all.

The rest of the ward had no such objections, and she went from bed to bed, triaging the cases and working her way up from the lightest wounds to the more serious, trying to pace herself and ensure that she didn't become drained and fatigued. The hamstring injuries, shin splints and muscle tears were fixed, one after another, leaving delighted patients in her wake. Slowly she moved on to the more serious wounds, the broken legs, fractured kneecaps and puncture wounds sustained from various falls and exercises.

For each one she explained that she would do the best she could, but magic was not a science, and there was no guarantee. She worked through the ward, and though not everyone was healed to the point they could leave, everyone ended up better than they had been, shaving weeks off of their recovery time. A good third of the ward was healthy enough to return to duty, and they emptied out their lockers, grabbing their gear and getting discharged by the Doctor. The remainder had their pain and suffering eased, and were well on the road to recovery.

It took nearly an hour, and Tads looked slightly woozy by the end of it, but insisted she was ok to Shimazu. The two objectors remained defiant, so she ignored them, and after filling in the Doctor on her progress, she and Shimazu left the infirmary, heading back to find the others.

Back outside, Kai waved for the rest of the team to head to the fuel depot and armoury and go stock up, then headed for the back of the truck.

"What are you doing, Kai?"

"Planning. Just working on something that's been bothering me a little. Don't worry, I'll fill you all in when I'm done." With that he climbed up through the back door and into the rear of the truck, pulling the door shut behind him.

The rest of the team shrugged, then carried on, actually climbing up into the truck and staying in the cab, then driving round to the vehicle park at the rear of the main building. It was a large sprawling affair, full of chunky four by four jeep analogues, heavy transports with cavernous storage areas, rag top trucks that clearly showed a common heritage with their truck, armoured personnel carriers lined up in neat rows. They had common markings and numbers that incremented smoothly stencilled on the side, and it became clear that the 87th Brigade was a motorised infantry unit, with enough integral transport to keep the whole detachment mobile.

The fuel area was huge, designed to allow the vehicles for an entire company to refuel at the same time. It was deserted at the moment, so they had the pick of the pumps to choose from. As Marius pulled up and stopped the truck, a beefy looking staff sergeant emerged from a small building at the edge and double-timed over to them. He had apparently been warned of their arrival, as he entered a code into the pump and activated it, then headed for the fuel tank – knowing exactly where it was of course.

While the truck's vast fuel tank was being filled, Marius walked over to him.

"Can I also purchase some aviation fuel? For a drone?"

"Kerosene? Sure. How much do you need?"

"Well, if I can top off the tanks, and maybe fill two portable containers, that would be good."

"Yes, we finish fuelling here, then you drive around the end, head for the next pad over, next to the blue pumps. I'll meet you there."

They waited as the truck swallowed twelve hundred litres of fine Russian diesel, and after securing the fuel cap and resealing the pump, the Sergeant headed off. Marius started up and followed him at a crawl, the truck in first gear and the torque of the engine pulling them along, without him having to touch the accelerator. They found the pumps easily enough, and after a few minutes wrestling, managed to get the drone out of the launcher and the fuel tanks lined up, then filled with high quality aviation jet fuel.

Marius thanked the sergeant, and remounted, then they made off towards the squat and low shape of the main base armoury. Massive ribs of reinforced plascrete decorated the building, casting shadows along the entire length of the structure. Around the front they found somewhere to park up, as close as possible to the front doors without blocking them – after all, ammo was notoriously heavy.

They buzzed on the outer door, looking up at the camera when requested by the metallic sounding voice that emerged from the battered speaker. A deep buzz sounded, and the electronic lock clicked open, allowing them to pull the heavy door open and gain entry to the building.

Inside it was as unfinished as the outside, the walls rough where they had been shot-blasted with concrete mix. Cages lined the walls, and inside rough shelves of unfinished timber – actual real wood rather than sculpted plastic – held box after box of ammunition, neatly stacked and ordered, sealed with plastic ID tags. A desk sat in the centre of the space, with a heavy duty set of scales on each side, along with a small computer.

A corporal approached them, and beckoned them over to the desk, asking what it was they required.

"I would like a hundred rounds of 12.5mm by 73, for my rifle. Oh, and 500 rounds of super-blast plus in 18.5mm shotgun. Thankyou. I am Aswon." The corporal tapped away, then pursed his lips.

"I have nothing of that brand name, but we have an equivalent – 'Массивный взрыв' that I can supply?" Aswon considered for a moment then nodded.

"I have a chit here, for 100 rounds of 12mm pistol, with tungsten penetrators." Hunter waved his terminal at the man, who scanned the barcode and nodded. "I'd also like two sets of BDUs with assault plates please." Again, the corporal nodded, adding them to his list as if Hunter had just ordered a couple of coffees.

"Oh, and we wanted to get Tads some grenades right?" He looked over his shoulder at the rest. "So she can throw them in that sling of hers?"

"Yes, but not incendiary grenades. That would be… unwise."

"Of course not Aswon. I was thinking about 50 flash grenades, 50 flash-bangs or concussion, and 50 standard anti-personnel. Or whatever the local equivalent is." Nobody argued or suggested anything better, so he nodded to the Corporal to add that to the tally.

"Marius, what are you after?" There was a pause. "Marius?"

"Oh? Sorry, 200 rounds of standard assault rifle, 7.62 by 39" Marius went back to staring around the room, spending a few moments looking at each box, cage or shelf, then moving on. It was like he was trying to commit to memory the exact look and style of the building. As he was doing this, Nadia leaned over, and whispered something in his ear that distracted him.

"Sure, you can get that, go ahead. It might be a good idea, yes." Emboldened, Nadia turned to the Corporal.

"Another 200 rounds of 7.62 by 39, but in tracer." The corporal made a note, and then looked up expectantly."

"Can we buy helmets? Boots? Things like that?"

"We don't hold them here, but if you want them we can get them for you. It's all on the same system."

Aswon checked what everyone's boot sizes were, and ordered a spare pare of military style boots, along with a standard anti-fragment helmet. Shimazu wanted to know why he needed his shoe size, and after explaining, passed on his own request from the supply catalogue.

"My friend, he's not here at the moment, would like one of your heavy duty breaching shields – the ones you use for entering the kill-houses with." Another notation was added into the growing list. "Oh, and our mage wanted to know if you had any magical supplies?" At the look on the Corporal's face, he quickly spoke again. "I expected not, but she asked me to check, so now I have. I think that's everything."

The Corporal totted up the amounts and then spun the display round to show them. Hunter blinked, but quickly ran through the numbers, then sighed and nodded, handing over a credstick, which was quickly slotted and debited, removing just over twenty thousand Nuyen. The door at the back of the area swung open, and a sergeant and two privates appeared. Behind them the armoury appeared to continue, but they could see the heavier munitions, belts of 20 and 30mm ammo for rotary assault cannons and larger rockets lined up against the wall. Another desk was laid out much like the corporals. Behind that, a further door led into an area where they could just see the edge of a milling machine and gun vice, and a rack of tools.

The sergeant came and looked over the list on the computer screen, then nodded in agreement, adding his thumbprint alongside the corporal's. The two technicians saw the light go green, then started to open cages and remove box after box of ammunition and supplies, crates of grenades and other supplies from the stores.

The sergeant stood at parade rest while the privates did the heavy lifting, and watched, his eyes surveying the operation carefully. In return, Marius studied him carefully, examining the differences in rank tabs and badges between the different soldiers.

As the loading progressed, apparently to satisfaction, the sergeant took a few steps over towards them, then waved at the ammo, specifically the rifle grade stuff.

"What do you shoot?" For a moment Hunter and Aswon wondered what he was asking - then to avoid trouble, they decided he wanted to know what kind of gun they shot, not what kind of targets. They described their respective weapons, and the sergeant seemed genuinely interested, so they offered to show him. The sergeant thought for a moment, then asked them to bring them into the armoury – but unloaded. They both headed to the truck to grab their weapons of choice.

They returned to the armoury, and noticed they were being very carefully scrutinised, and the sergeant had his hand resting on the handle of his service pistol – casually, but clearly ready. Hunter turned his weapon so the bottom faced the officers, showing the empty magazine well, and then worked the action, showing the chamber was empty. Aswon followed suit, and they saw the Russians relax.

"I'm guessing that normally you're not allowed to enter the armoury with a weapon at all, especially not if you're not actually in the army. But that you also don't get chance to see odd weapons like these either, so sometimes rules get bent a little?" Hunter smiled to take the edge off the question, but still got a sharp look from the sergeant, that was all the answer he needed. He walked over, and presented the Ares Alpha to the sergeant, who took it carefully and then began to examine it.

The officer hefted the gun, checking the balance and then turned away from them, bringing the gun up to his shoulder and checking the sight picture, before lowering back to a ready position, the barrel safely pointed away from everyone. He repeated the move several times, then twisted slightly and held a hand over the charging level and looked to Hunter, waiting for his nod, before smoothly working the action and checking the mechanism.

"Nice, very nice. Of course, is typical of Western guns. High tech, and complicated, over-engineered. Accurate and fast, I grant you – but if you show it a field, it will jam. Hunter nodded and smiled, humouring him if not actually agreeing.

They talked for a few minutes, comparing the roller locking mechanism and design of the sears with the much simpler and cruder manufacture – but cheaper and more robust – construction of the latest generation AK. He handed the rifle back to Hunter with a quiet but heartfelt thank you, then turned towards Aswon.

"Wellington, Mark 2, Manufactured by Purdey. This rifle was designed and manufactured in 2014 as part of a triple set of guns, marking the bicentenary of the companies manufacture. At least that's what I've been able to discover about it so far." He offered it over to the wide eyed sergeant, and found the corporal looking in for a closer look as well. The two privates were also stealing glances at the beautiful rifle, while still looking like they were working.

Calloused, but gentle hands brushed across the fine engraving and stroked the burnished and lacquered wood, traced the gentle curve of the cocking handle and the smooth rolled lip of the ejection port, admiring the craftsmanship of the hand-produced gun made by a dedicated gunsmith.

"You don't have to tell me – I would not want to put this in the mud and then try to fire it. But to get mud on this would be a shame, would it not?" The sergeant nodded, then repeated his drill, turning away from them and raising the gun to his shoulder and sighting through the mounted scope. The gun rose smoothly and nestled into his shoulder easily, a testament to the superb craftsmanship and balance.

Aswon spoke again, describing in extremely loose terms that he'd received it as a gift from someone of English origins, in exchange for some work, and that he too admired the craftsmanship of the weapon. Hunter nudged Aswon in a friendly way, looking up at the towering tribesman, standing with his head bowed slightly to avoid the light fittings.

"My friend here is a real good shot – most of the time. Sometimes though, even he misses. I like to put a few more rounds down range and make sure of things, so I tend to make a bit more noise, even than his beast of a rifle."

"You should get a suppressor fitted then, to cut back on that."

"Oh I have got one, I just haven't had chance to fit it yet, at least not properly." The sergeant looked at him, then at Aswon.

"How about… an exchange?" He looked at them both, and saw that he had everyone's attention. "I will fit your suppressor for you. In exchange, we go to the range, and I am allowed to fire each of your weapons." Aswon and Hunter exchanged looks, and then nodded.

"Excellent! We shall go, shoot, then maybe later drink some Vodka. Da?" Dutiful nods. "Come then my friends. I am Sergeant Tomaz by the way." Handshakes were exchanged, with everyone, including Nadia

Tomaz led them back through the heavy weapons armoury full of rockets and missile pods, along with a few Dragunov sniper rifles and 25mm anti-material behemoths that drew looks from Aswon, into the machine shop. There he expertly clamped up the Alpha, taking care not to distort or scratch the casing, and tapped and drilled the barrel out, using deft and gentle touches on the wheels of the drill press and tapper to attach the mounting collar tightly onto the barrel. The team watched carefully, realising that they were watching a very skilled operator at his craft, and about twenty five minutes later, they saw him quickly fit the suppressor onto the newly fitted locking mechanism on the front of the rifle, sealing around the barrel with incredibly tight tolerances. It had been done on the most basic of machines, but they could see a number of custom guides made from wood, baling wire and metal offcuts, each one shaped for a specific purpose. Low tech, but great design – perhaps there was a lesson here.

The sergeant led the way out, collected a large selection of ammo, and unlocked a cupboard, grabbing his own weapon – a heavily modified rifle that looked like a bastard offspring of the Dragunov and an AK-94 AK series. Aswon coughed discreetly.

"Excuse me – I was looking at these shotguns – they are for door breaching, yes? I wonder if you could show me how they perform?" Tomaz grinned and unlocked a dull green shotgun from the cage, hefting the beast out onto a shoulder, and added a box of shells to his ammo selection. He escorted them to the range, stopping by the truck to allow them to gather their other weapons. Aswon toyed with the idea of breaking out the purloined sniper rifle, but decided to leave that hidden, just in case.

For the next hour they shot on the range – Nadia working on the shorter range and firing her submachine gun, receiving some coaching from the range officer. Marius kept a close eye on him after he seemed a bit…familiar with her, standing very close behind her and adjusting her grip, his arms stretched around her and his mouth almost touching her ear.

Aswon, the sergeant and Hunter headed for the longer distance range and put a number of rounds down towards the pop-up targets. The sergeant's hybrid was not as accurate as Aswons' rifle, and not as fast as the Ares Alpha – but it competently did the job, coming a credible and close second to both of them and proving to be a very capable weapon system. The sergeant was also a great rifleman – not as good as the long shots as Aswon, to be sure – but he responded like a snake and could raise his rifle, acquire the target and fire off two three round bursts with remarkable accuracy and smoothness.

They swapped weapons around, engaging in a little shooting competition that soon turned quietly serious as they each tried to outdo each other. Tomasz edged ahead on points, being more generally skilled then both of them – though each of them held their own in their respective specialities. Whilst shooting, Aswon pointed at the kill houses, and expressed a desire to learn more about those, maybe even watch the troops running through exercises – Tomaz said he would see what he could do.

Meanwhile, Shimazu and Tads had just about finished in the infirmary, and were heading back, taking their time and looking at the building and the grounds as they wandered back to where they assumed the truck still was. As they passed the front of the building, Shimazu felt his pocket vibrate twice, then stop. He fished around and pulled out the commlink, then checked the message – it was from Aslick, the talismonger back in the windmill near the ranch.

'I have secured an introduction for you, with Dr Wael Mohamed, of Pharos University in Alexandria. He is a world expert in psychology and parapsychology, who I once helped with materials for some work. He normally has a significant signup queue for his lectures and focus group sessions, but you should be able to jump this with my recommendation. However, he will *not* be cheap, and you will have to pay for your sessions at the university rate.'

There followed a matrix address and contact details, along with a short public biography for the Doctor, including page after page of published works and bylines for research papers. He certainly seemed to fit the bill for "world class".

They meandered over to where the truck had been, and clearly wasn't anymore, but then followed the wide track marks in the gravel around to the fuel depot and eventually over to the armoury, and asking around there, then on to the ranges.

A private appeared at the edge of the range, and once the range master had given him leave to enter, he ran over to sergeant Tomaz and braced to attention, quickly rattling off that he'd come to escort the guests to the heliport. The team gathered together, thanking Tomaz and the range officers for their hospitality, and headed off after the private – dropping weapons back in the truck. It was strange – the planning that Kai was doing sounded an awful lot like snoring, but they were content to let him be. At least this way he wouldn't be accepting some strange mission for twelve Nuyen to get some tartan paint or something equally daft.

The private led them over to the helipad and reported to an officer. Marius studied the rank tabs and style, then lowered his voice.

"If I've got this right, this is a Warrant Officer or an equivalent. Not part of the Infantry brigade. Might be attached to the base, or a separate unit that is paired with them for air-mobile operations perhaps." The rest of the team nodded, and shrugged. It didn't really seem to matter, at least not to them.

Marius sketched out his desire to see the graveyard, explaining that they might be interested in trying to salvage some parts in exchange for some assistance to the Brigadier. The officer pursed his lips, looking uncertain about this, and studied the team carefully.

"Ok, I show you around. Looking ok, touching ok. No taking though, not without written authorisation." Marius nodded in approval, and followed him along the path, while the rest of the team dawdled along behind them. They exchanged smiles as Marius started to ask what the officer flew, and described the craft he'd flown in return, quickly establishing some rapport with the rotor-head.

They headed down the path through the birch trees, smelling the moss and peat, the dampness in the air of the woodland carrying the vague tinge of kerosene from the airbase on the other side of the woodland. It wasn't a long walk, interrupted only by a series of sneezes from Tads, who wiped her nose a few times, complaining that she'd gotten too close to the range without her mask.

When they emerged into the clearing they saw a vast array of helicopters in various states of disrepair. Some had clearly been here for years, having weeds growing up the landing wheels and into the fuselage itself, whilst their skins were rusted and streaked with age, while others were newer and looked much more serviceable. The warrant officer waved his arm to them, and moved to the side of the concrete apron, settling himself down on a tree stump and leaning back against the broken timber whilst he crossed his legs in front him, watching the crazy foreigners.

The team huddled together and Tads cast her spell on Marius, her shamanic mask glowing and covering her face whilst she channelled power, but shielded from view by the bodies of the rest of the team. With her first spell cast, she concentrated again and cast another spell. The first gave Marius a sense of clairvoyance, a magical ability to detect the presence of things – things that he "knew of", while the second linked his and Hunter's minds together, allowing near instant flow of information. With that done, and concentrating hard to keep both spells in operation, she found somewhere to sit quietly out of the way, whilst they went to work.

Marius approached the first chopper, and listed the major components, working down some memorised list in his head. Annoying as he could be at times, Hunter had to give it to him – he knew his helicopters. As Marius catalogued the contents of the first chopper, and listed the parts missing, Hunter pushed the information through his cyber-router into storage memory, transcribing the thought information into a readable file that could be extracted later.

It took hours, with Marius and Hunter criss-crossing the apron, checking each aircraft in turn, walking back and forth to get some aircraft out of range of his magically granted ability and others in, slowly working out what was in what aircraft though logical deduction. Occasionally they crawled inside an airframe to check on something, or assess the condition of an unusual part or something particularly desirable. The sun wore on through the sky, and the afternoon grew chill as the wind rose from the east, pushing grey clouds ahead of it, promising more snow before the day was out. Tads sat curled into a ball, concentrating on her spell, whilst Aswon stood next to her like a giant, but equally still, showing the stoic patience gained whilst hunting on the vast plains of his homeland. Shimazu moved away quietly to the edge of the wood and went through his katas, working out with his sword for a few hours, leaving Nadia to fidget and pace back and forth, until she went and grabbed a data download from Hunter to start entering the data into a database for later use.

Eventually though, they were done, and the team regrouped. They all looked at Marius, clearly expecting him to lead the conversation.

"Well, this is doable. There's over twenty craft here, and I think we can make at least six of them airworthy, inside a week. We'll need some assistance to do so, and a lot of sweat and lubricating oil, but we can do this. And better, we have a choice of craft to think about." Whilst he spoke, Hunter quietly sent a stream of the last data to Nadia, who quietly continued amassing the database for later analysis.

"First off, we have that one there. It's a Hip, an Mi-8 troop carrier. Probably room for about two platoons and a couple of technicians, and can carry about 4000 kilos all told. Should cruise at about 130 kph, and we can push that to maybe 200 plus if we hammer the engines. Good for 600km on a standard tank, and we can mount weapons on the winglets, if we can get hold of them. If we adapt if for riggers I can fly it solo, but it's designed for a crew of three."

"Next off is that one, two down from the Hip. That's technically also a Hip, but it's the Mi-17 version. A tiny bit smaller, similar load capacity, but this one has a strengthened airframe that allows it to carry a 5000kg load from an underbelly hook. The crew compartment is a bit smaller like I said, but that's because the fuel tank is larger, giving it another hundred and fifty, maybe two hundred clicks of range. However, the weapon options are a bit more limited due to the reinforcement for the hook. Again, ideal crew of three, but can be flown by a single rigger."

"After that, it's the massive one at the end – the twin rotor job. That's an Mi-26 Halo, room for a full company of troops in that, and will carry about twenty thousand kilos – absolute beast of a machine. Not pretty, sure, but it would carry the truck if it was a different shape. Similar sort of range and speed, despite the size, but not normally armed at all – it's designed to be escorted by attack birds. Crew space for five, due to the electronic warfare potential and additional systems that can be loaded in."

"Working down this side, look by the thin birch tree growing out at an angle – the one just behind that is a Mi-6 Hook. Another beast of a machine, can also carry a company, and designed to be run with a crew of 6. Less overall load on it, and a lower overall operational range – but it's supposed to have two heavy duty autocannons mounted in the doors – this one doesn't need any escort to go in harm's way. "

"Then the next one – this is the only attack bird we've seen that's vaguely salvageable. It's a KA-60 Kastaska. Two crew, you could just about fit a squad in if you don't mind them being really close. It's fast – much faster than any of the others. We can probably push 300 kph in that, and keep going for two and half hours on a tank of fuel, and it's also got enlarged intakes – it's been modified for high altitude flight. Might be an important factor if we're thinking about doing runs to places like that guy was setting up in the Iranian mountains."

"Last of all, there's this one here – a Mi-14 Haze. Another troop carrier, big one that could maybe carry three or four platoons. Similar kind of speed to most of the rest, but a decent range, though they're not great at altitude. Room for four crew, and it can carry a reasonable cargo, at least 10,000 kilos."

Marius took a breath, and licked his lips, then took the proffered water bottle from Shimazu with a nod of thanks.

"So, we can get them all flying. Our choices as we see them are to go for the smallest bird, and kit it out as a high speed courier for small cargos, get some decent weapons, and rely on speed and stealth. Or second, we get one of the main troop carriers, work on minimising the noise and signature as much as we can, and load up on ECM and other electronics gear to help us spoof radar and such like, for general cargo. Or third, get one of the biggest choppers, forget stealth almost entirely but be able to carry just about anything, anywhere, and have enough capacity that we can turn them into horrible armoured beasts with extended ranges. It really depends what we're going to do."

They chatted for another twenty minutes, with each of the team asking Marius to expand upon the finer details of the various options, and the likely time and effort to get them working. They didn't notice Captain Zarkorov walking down the path until he was almost upon them – in fact it was the warrant officer springing to attention that made them look around for the source.

"Good afternoon. I hope you found what you were looking for in your little tour?" He sketched a salute at the Warrant Officer, who took the hint, returned the salute and then left the area. "I wonder if I can talk to you about some possible options. Where is your captain?"

"He's back in the truck, working on some possible future missions for us. But we're happy to discuss alternate plans," Marius quickly responded. "I'm sure we can relay things to him and get his agreement."

"Walk with me, if you will then." The Captain turned and headed back down the path, back towards the main building, with the team falling into step with him. "Now, the Brigadier has some ideas that you could assist him with. If you were willing, we would be… grateful. And could see our way to releasing additional material to you." Marius nodded, and the team exchanged glances, then decided to let Marius take point on this one.

"First of all, we know the base is not defended against magical incursion. Are you able to do something about that?"

"We can, but it would only last for a few weeks – unless we can get hold of some materials. Then we could make them last on an indefinite basis. It would take some time to complete a ward on each of the buildings you have though, at least at a rating that we would regard as 'secure' against most threats." Aswon said.

"Oh, that sounds better. Draw up a list of your required ingredients then, and I will see what can be procured. Now, the next thing is, that although the core of the Brigade has been with us for over a year, we have a number of new recruits and transfers that have arrived with us to bring us up to nominal strength. The Brigadier would like to ensure that we do in fact have the loyalty of the men we have under our command. Is that something that can be done?"

He listened as Tads explained in a somewhat rambling fashion that although there was a spell that could peer into the mind of a subject and determine such facts, it was not one she had – and the most she could do was to share thoughts with a target, and exchange information voluntarily.

"Pity. Oh well, it can't be helped." Shimazu coughed to get the Captain's attention.

"Well, that could still work. After all, they won't know we can't read all their thoughts, if we don't tell them. And if Tads can get some information that makes it clear she's got access to their mind, if we ask the right questions, we might get you what you want?"

"Ahh, I see. A feint, as it were. Psychological warfare. Well, that might be sufficient. Now, is there anything else you have or can offer, that I can propose to the Brigadier?"

One by one the team offered their suggestions – Tads described the fact that she'd walked from the northern part of Russia clear down to Chechnya, living off the land and offered to share her survival skills with the soldiers. Shimazu offered to do some hand to hand training or work with bayonets or combat knives. Hunter detailed some stories about covert surveillance and electronic information gathering that might be useful for scouts and recon troops. Marius described his command and control experience and mechanical skills, and then described Nadia's excellent logistics and analysis abilities. She looked annoyed to be spoken for at first, until Marius heaped on the praise, and then found herself in the odd position of wanting to speak for herself, but enjoying being described thus. Aswon rounded out the party, offering to work with the designated marksman on long range shooting, and stalking.

"Ahh, good. Tomaz reported that you were a 'fair shot'. That's high praise from him."

"We can also check over your troops I suppose, looking for anyone with magical talent that might have been missed in screening. I assume you do screen your population for sensitivity, like they do in other countries?" The Captain nodded at Aswon, confirming this. "If we do find someone with talent, we can help nurture and develop this, shaping it into a useful tool.

"Good, good. All good points. The Brigadier will be pleased."

"Oh, one other thing – the special ammunition we bought with us. I'd suggest that we put up a ward around that first, even if it's not a permanent one. Keeps it safe, and stops it affecting anything else. And we might want to consider doing the same for the Brigadier's quarters as well." The Captain nodded at Tads, and then took on a thoughtful look.

"We should do my quarters as well then. I'm his operations officer, so generally I know as much, if not more about what we're doing than he does. Yes, that sounds like a very good idea – let's go ahead and do those three places immediately."

"I'd also suggest the infirmary as well. Though it's emptier than it was previously, it's a weak spot in my opinion. People there are wounded, trying to heal. Often drugged. They're weaker, and less able to resist manipulation. If I were going to try and subtly affect your troops, that's where I would start."

"I see, fair enough then – that's add that to the priority list. Now, as you appear to be staying a while, I have arranged some quarters for you. There's only one brigade on base at the moment, and room for two – so we have a lot of billets empty. I've arranged for you to stay in the Brigade HQ building, hopefully it will be sufficient for your needs."

The Captain led them over to the building, and then handed them over to a corporal and a number of troops, telling the corporal to help get them settled in and see to any immediate needs, then escort them to the officers' mess for 20:00.

With only an hour to go, the team moved quickly, pulling the truck around and unloading some personal kit, grabbing showers and getting changed, then finding something decent to wear. It looked like they were going to be busy for a while on the base.