Saturday 16/10/2060, Location: 43.04661, -102.37761, Time 10:45

Ehran looked up at them and pointed towards them, presumably saying something to the people gathered around him, for a moment later six of the braves sprinted up the hill towards them. The team stood looking around, feeling helpless and adrift. The valley was littered with the bodies of the dead and signs of the massive fire-fight, with grenade blasts pockmarking the ground and deep furrows where heavy machine-gun fire had ripped up bodies and slammed into the soil. The graveyard was full of disturbed earth, bones sticking out here and there where the horror had been mid-way through animating the bodies of those laid to rest.

Tads suddenly leant down and let her fingertips graze Shimazu's sword hilt.

"If he's dead, then this shouldn't be bonded anymore. But if it is, then he's alive!"

"We couldn't detect a pulse, and the medkit didn't show any brain activity at all." Kai said dejectedly.

"I know – but I have no idea what it did to him. If he's been pushed to the meta-planes, then that might be accurate." She concentrated on the sword for a moment, a frown deepening on her face as she tried to work out what she was sensing. "I can't get a good read on it. It's not acting like it's bonded or unbonded… it's more like it's not even properly here. I don't understand…" She let go and stood up, thinking furiously about everything she'd learnt about magic from her instructors and her own experience of the past year, but she'd never encountered anything like this before.

The six Sioux natives arrived, slightly out of breath from their sprint up the field, and moved towards Shimazu, splitting into two groups of three. Moving swiftly they struggled with his body, lifting him as gently as they could into the air and clasping their arms together underneath him, then started to walk down the hill with the body held aloft between their shoulders, their arms forming a makeshift bier. With nothing better to do, and no better ideas, the team followed along with them, following the funeral party down the hill and back towards the waiting circle of Shaman and Ehran. The Shaman were sitting on the ground still, swaying slightly and keeping up a gentle rhythm with their hands, tapping at their thighs once per second.

"Place his body in the centre please. As for you…" he turned away from the braves as they moved the body into the centre of the circle and gently laid it on the floor, "We must provide a link to that has been cast asunder. The body dies while the mind wanders, and there is precious little time." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small stick, stripped of bark and covered in some kind of sap or sticky material. Fishing in his trouser pocket he pulled out a lighter, and waved the flame under each end of the stick, lighting the tacky substance and causing it to smoulder gently.

"A tribal talking stick - only the holder of the talking stick may speak, it is passed around to ensure that all who wish to speak can do so," Maisie whispered to them. Aswon turned to her and raised a finger to his lips, recognising the general motif, even if it wasn't quite how they did it back home in his tribe. Ehran slowly raised the stick to shoulder height, holding it parallel to the ground and then spoke loudly and clearly, his eloquent voice betraying no hint of sarcasm.

"I remember. I remember meeting Shimazu as if it were yesterday. Though he knew little about me, he bowed to me deeply, showing respect and consideration. Not once has he ever interrupted me while I was speaking. A man of honour, and a man committed to preserving the lives of those he deemed worthy." He turned the stick ninety degrees until the smoke rose vertically. As one, he, the shaman and all of the Sioux natives chorused, "We remember." After a moment of silence, he rotated the stick back to be parallel with the ground and passed it to Maisie.

"I remember. I remember meeting him, and wondering if I had offended him - for he spoke little. But I found out that he was quiet, listening more than speaking, observing much and saying little. But, he was always willing to help, and when I had to stow my gear upon their aircraft, he helped ensure that my weapons were correctly secured. He was so careful with my bow, handling it gently and with reverence when he saw that it was hand-crafted. He seemed to place great stock in the craftsmanship and time invested." She too tipped the stick, and all the voices chorused, "We remember," Aswon, Tads and Kai included, though Hunter and Marius kept quiet. Maisie turned to Tads, holding out the stick for her to take.

"I remember, I remember the first time we met. We were captured, local bandits having waylaid us all, keeping us captive in some cages on a mountain. We managed to escape from the cages, escape from captivity. It was my responsibility to get us out, but he helped with my job. Elk is a protector and defender, but so was Shimazu. He was well trained to defend others, and acted to guard those around him – and he did it well." Her voice cracked at the end as a wash of guilt overwhelmed her, and she turned the stick to the upright position. "We remember." She turned to her left, passing the stick to Marius, who didn't look thrilled with the prospect, but took it from her and followed along with the format – despite his expression clearly indicating that he wasn't sure of the purpose or validity of it.

"I remember. I remember that I let him drive my truck and he didn't crash it. I might even have let him drive it again, maybe. And he was a lot better than Kai." He twisted the stick quickly, sending smoke spiralling out, then muttered, "We remember," along with the rest, before passing over the stick to his left into Aswon's waiting hand.

"I remember, I remember him as a force of nature, a man of great power and stamina. He did have some rather unhealthy obsessions, but they defined who and what he was. He was quiet, speaking seldom, but often having wise words when he did speak, but he was also strong, tough and my friend." Aswon spoke loudly and clearly, as if trying to call out to the dead, or proclaiming his opinion for all to hear. He rotated the stick much more calmly than Marius had, then chanted, "We remember!" As he turned to his left, Hunter looked about as pleased to be included in the ceremony as Marius had, but took the stick anyway.

"I remember that he liked them dammed leeches more than me." He saw several of the others staring at him, then realised he'd not followed quite the same wording – but shrugged his shoulders and carried on. If it was important, they should have explained it, after all… "Maybe because of where he was born, or maybe 'cos of who he was, he always seemed to like some weird stuff, but I liked him anyway." He turned the stick, and mumbled the phrase, then passed on the stick to Kai.

"I remember. I remember that like all good weapons, he knew when to use his skills, to act when needed, to restrain himself when required. He was good at assessing the situation, and that's got to be worth remembering. And like all good tools, he knew when not to kill." He twisted the stick, and his voice rippled, a wave of power echoing out from him. "We remember." Even Marius and Hunter focussed then, following the command, even if only briefly.

The ritual had been carrying on while the team had been recounting their memories, the shaman beating on their thighs, weaving from side to side in unison. Smoke coiled around them from the incense and candles lit before them and their eyes rolled back in their head as they turned their sight elsewhere, chanting and singing in a complex melody. Though she didn't know the song or the ritual, Tads picked up on the structure of the chanting and started to weave her own chant quietly into it, the words of Nenet recounting her regret over his loss.

The chanting grew faster, hands slapping on thighs with more and more force until they sounded like a drumbeat and all of the shamans trembled as their hearts pounded and pulses raced. Aswon, Kai and Tads could feel the power rising in the circle, even if they didn't know what it was the shaman were doing. It looked a little like the ritual search that Tads and Vadim had done back in Hong Kong, but with enough differences to make it clear that this was something new.

After a few minutes, one of the shaman suddenly threw back his head, blood coursing out of his eyes and ears and his lips pulled back to reveal his teeth as pain washed over him. His body started to thrash, and the brave behind him stepped forward swiftly to grasp his mohawk firmly in his left hand and then strike hard and fast with his dagger, plunging the blade into the neck of the shaman and sending a spray of blood across the circle, sacrificing his life to fuel the ritual. A moment later, the last shaman in the circle also started to thrash and moan, and was similarly dispatched, sending another pool of blood out of the body to soak into the land.

Aswon and Tads stared on with alarm – was this blood magic? The rumours said that the original Ghost Dance had required tremendous amounts of power, more than should have been available that early in the mana cycle, and that as a result the native shamans had been forced to fuel the ritual with their own lives, sacrificing their own power in the form of spilled blood to achieve their aims. They had forced the US to capitulate to their demands, which had opened the way to the Native American Nations – but at a terrible personal cost to those involved. If this was proceeding along a similar path – then just what were the shaman trying to achieve, and just what had the team gotten themselves involved with? Kai was busy watching Ehran, trying to read his body language and determine what was going on, while Hunter and Marius both looked disgruntled at once more being dragged into magical shenanigans.

The body on the floor gave a convulsive heave, then arched – the back of his head and the heels being the only part of Shimazu's body to remain in contact with the ground as his muscles suddenly tensed and a deep ragged breath was taken. A moment later he screamed, a long undulating howl of pure terror that seemed to go on and on, without pause. Ehran waited a few moments, studying Shimazu before extending his hand towards him and muttering.

"Sleep now." Tads and Aswon both saw the stun-bolt forming, at a power level that made Tads' version look like something a child would use. It was effective immediately, the body collapsing back to the ground and the scream cutting off abruptly. "There… that should give him time to recover, and adapt to his condition."

"His condition?" Aswon queried, his spear held tightly in his hand – not sure if it should aim at Ehran or whatever inhabited Shimazu's body. "Explain." His voice was flat and firm, indicating that as far as he was concerned this was not a request, but a demand.

"Well, being alive, after being on the brink of death. Being here, after being stretched across the gulf and nearly consumed of course. That's a shock for anyone."

"Can I heal them?" Tads gestured at the bodies of the two shaman, slumped over on their sides surrounded by a bloody puddle, flesh pale and drawn as the blood leeched from their bodies from the deep savage cuts." She felt conflicted – was Shimazu really alive? If so, was his life purchased at the cost of two others? If that was the case, she didn't know if that was a trade she could feel happy with – though she would be ecstatic to have Shimazu back, she wasn't sure she could weigh his life against that of others, even if they had given their lives voluntarily.

"No. No, they are beyond saving, alas." Ehran closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep and steadying breath. "There is always risk, and in some ways we were lucky. It could have been worse. But there is nothing more to do here."

The shaman around the circle struggled to their feet, some of them helped by their braves, and they too turned to look at the bodies laying slumped upon the floor. A slow and sad sounding song was started, picked up by the other shaman and sung without any clapping or beat, a funeral dirge that twisted and flowed, rising and falling as they sent the spirits of the fallen back to the land. As the song came to a conclusion, the shaman, starting to walk slowly back towards the road and head north, back the way they had came, while the braves clustered around the two fallen shaman and bore them aloft, carrying them as they had Shimazu (though their much more slender forms proved to be far easier to move than the massive Japanese bodyguard had been). All apart from the two young men who had struck at their shaman, ending their lives - they stood in front of the team, bloody knives still in their right hands, dark eyes staring at them. One of them spoke, voice charged with emotion, speaking in rapid Sioux. They glanced around the team, then turned and without another word hurried after their comrades, catching up and joining the funeral bearers, moving to the head of the line and walking with bloody knives held aloft.

"Did you hear that? 'The blood of the tribes is on his hands?' Sounds like they blame him for this…" Hunter's hand was resting lightly on his gun, watching the Indians as they moved away, almost as if he was expecting them to turn and attack.

"Are you sure? I thought they said 'The blood of the tribes stains his hands' I mean, I'm not sure it's any better, but I thought there was a different emphasis on the words there." Aswon shook his head, trying to replay the phrase in his head and struggling with the garbled words.

"I'd better go with them and sort things out with the tribes and smoothing things over." Ehran looked at the valley and the scenes of slaughter and carnage, watching as birds started to circle overhead, drawn by the carrion stench below. "I think you'd better head off - too many questions and not enough answers that people will find palatable. Stay with your friend and comfort him - he may be in need of your support when he awakens - he's been through a traumatic experience."

"Are we going to have time to debrief on this – whatever it was. To talk about what happened here?" Aswon asked.

"Probably not. At least not now. Though the crisis seems to have been averted, there is still much to be done." Ehran sighed. "So, I must leave, for now." He turned and headed after the shaman, using a small piece of cloth to smother the smouldering end of the stick before replacing it inside his coat. Maisie looked at the receding party of shaman and Ehran, then back to the team.

"I'm uh…. I'm going with them. I'm back in country, which is what we agreed, and I'll make my way back to Seattle now once I've sorted out the visas and permits and things. But I want to know what's going on here, and what they're going to do next. If I find out anything that'll affect you, I'll get in touch with someone at the church and leave a message for you?"

"Here, take a card, if you can contact us directly – we're not sure where we're going next." Kai dug out a small business card and handed it over, getting a nod from Maisie in return.

"Ehran – are there any particular things we need to worry about? Signs of alarm?" Aswon called out to the retreating elf.

"Don't leave him alone – and be wary of signs of alienation and isolation. Look after him, and make sure he's cared for. Beyond that – you'll just have to work it out."

"Right." Aswon didn't look happy with the answer, but it was clear that it was all the information Ehran was going to give them. "I think he's right about one thing though – we should get out of here. We don't want to be around when the police or the military show up, especially when they look at how most of those people died."

"But it wasn't our fault – they were coming at us with knives and guns and things!"

"Doesn't matter, Hunter. We're illegal aliens carrying automatic weapons used to slaughter hundreds of civilians. You think they're going to believe that they were all possessed by a demonic creature from another dimension and just let us go on our way?"

"I am calling the tilt-wing to us. I agree – we should leave." Marius started to tap on his remote control unit, sending the commands to start the tilt-wing and have the automatic systems power up and take-off so he could remote-pilot it to his location.

"I want to head up to the graveyard to check it out, make sure there's nothing we're leaving behind or that we need to check over. Can you land the bird somewhere up there? I'm not keen on us splitting up too much."

"Ja."

They struggled to pick up Shimazu's unconscious body, heading up the field towards the graveyard while they could hear the rising pitch of the engines as they started up carrying on the wind from the wooded area to the east.

"Hey Tads – do you need to cleanse your signature, from the spell you cast? To stop them trying to trace you?" Kai asked. Tads looked around until she spotted roughly where she'd been and tried to cast her stun-ball spell, examining the astral plane and recoiling slightly from the chaotic and turbulent mess.

"I don't think it's going to be a problem – the area sucked most of the magic away to the point where the spell failed anyway, and the amount of death and carnage is masking pretty much anything else. I'm not sure there's much remaining to clean, and if there was it's buried in so much muck and filth that I'm not sure I can find it – let alone anyone else."

While the tilt-wing rose up out of the woods and then started to fly their way, Aswon moved over to the graves, carefully examining them. He moved cautiously, not wanting to stand on any of the plots and further desecrate the resting place for the massacre victims. It looked like the bodies had been reanimated using magic, some combination of spell-like powers used to fling or control motion, along with a variation of the earth shaping spell that Tads used. He couldn't imagine why it had been done or what practical advantage it had given the horror, but he checked around a little more anyway, looking for clues or explanations. He did get a strong astral 'scent' though for the spell used, filing it away in his memory. He was as certain as he could be that this was the signature of the horror, and that meant he might at least be able to recognise its taint in the future, or perhaps spot people under its influence.

Hunter meanwhile had headed over to where the body of the horror had been and was examining the ground. The grass was all disturbed and showed clear sign of passage, looking as if a giant sled had been pulled over the ground, leaving a swath of depressed foliage behind it. From the looks of things, the legs or tentacles or whatever it had, put down just enough pressure that it could slide the huge body over the ground, rather than clearing it entirely and walking like a normal creature. He wasn't sure how relevant this was, or how important, but he filed it away for the future.

With nothing more to do here, and the risk of someone official coming along to investigate rising by the minute the team boarded the aircraft and got the drones and all their gear stored – taking the time to pack things down correctly as they weren't THAT short on time, and wanted to have the most comfortable trip they could. With Maisie and her gear offloaded, they had a little more space to move in, but it still wasn't the most comfortable of rides, and at times the walls could seem to converge upon them. With the unconscious form of Shimazu laid out on the floor taking up valuable movement space, it wasn't going to be easy to shuffle around once they'd taken off.

When they were about ready to depart, Aswon lifted one of Shimazu's hands up towards the seats and used one of the plasti-cuffs they had to restrain him there, making sure that the cuff wasn't going to cut into the flesh or restrict his circulation, but holding him in place. Given the prodigious strength and size, it was entirely probable that Shimazu could break himself free if he needed to – but it would at least buy them some precious time to do something about whatever situation had arisen, and hopefully that would allow them to take non-lethal action if they did need to subdue him. Aswon also noticed that once Marius and Hunter had entered the cockpit, they closed and locked the door, muttering under their breath about zombies as they did so – but he chose to ignore this. After all, they didn't have The Sight, and couldn't tell that he wasn't possessed or controlled by a spirit, and had only their word to go on – better to let them think they had something to worry about but also a way to combat that worry, even if it was nonsense.

Once all was secure, Marius lifted off gently, calling over the intercom to ask for a heading.

"North please, low and slow to start off with. Let's not make any waves, but also not head in a direction we've been before or need to go in. And on that note – the floor is open for suggestions about where to head next."

"In that case, Kai, I wish to fly back to Seattle, then use the marker we have with Maersk to get us as far back towards the ranch as possible, and fly back the rest of the way. I wish to see Nadia."

"Ok, noted, and I don't disagree. But I was wondering about maybe trying to track down the horror and take the fight to wherever it is – it won't be expecting that!"

"In that case, you had better have a better plan. Because in that attack we did somewhere between nothing and fuck all to it."

"I wouldn't put it quite so strongly as Marius, but I agree with the sentiment. I think we still need more experience to face that thing, especially if it's going to be in it's own lair. We did this because we had to, we got told it was on the move – but none of us were really ready for it, or wanted to do it. I would certainly like a little break, maybe a couple of weeks to relax and get some studying done before we set off again on some new work. We should have the money for it."

"I agree with both Marius and Aswon – but I also have a suggestion. When we stop somewhere for a while, I can take a couple of spirits with me and try to head back to the temple in Tashkent. And carefully – very VERY carefully – head down inside and see if the creature has gone back there. It might be good to know."

"I think when it went through that portal or gateway or whatever, it went to its own metaplane of some kind. So if it went voluntarily, from what I understand, it can come back to anywhere it wants, whenever it wants. It could be the temple, if that place was somehow significant in some way, or contains some power – or it could be anywhere else."

"I think I'm going to start a search running for major memorial sites, massacre locations and other places that might match the same kind of conditions as what happened here. Just in case it tries to pull the same shit again." They could hear the change in intensity in Hunter's voice as he jacked in, splitting his attention between setting up the search parameters and talking to them, indicating that he was at least getting the programming set up for the search, even if he wasn't starting it yet.

"So team – are we heading back to Daniels, refuel and then back over to Seattle? Or do we stay heading north and try this other stop – Lady Jane's, I think it was, then turn west? Or go via a quiet airport and fudge the papers, assuming we can."

"I think we ought to head to Boston. No – not Boston, Detroit! Yes, Detroit. That was the place that Knight mentioned. We should go there."

"Why, Aswon?"

"Because we're closer to it now than we've ever been before, and we have an offer for something there. And if we go all the way home, we have to come all the way back. What if the thing they had for us was a small bag of chips, or diamonds, or some tiny medicine or something like that? Something easy to transport. We'd waste huge amounts of fuel on the trip when we could have just stopped and grabbed it."

"But isn't that hundreds of kilometres to the east? He mentioned something about hours of flight."

"Detroit is about fifteen hundred klicks from us to the east, so it's just doable with the fuel that we have – maybe. But we've got a full reserve, so if we stop anywhere on the way, we can top off and make it easily. And if we aim east generally there are at least three stops we picked up from Iceman66 over that way that we should be able to refuel from." Hunter called out from the front, checking over the maps and looking for the appropriate stop points.

"But then it's even further to go, to get back to Seattle, right?"

"Yes, if we're going that way. We can always go the other way."

"The other way?"

"It's not flat you know!" They could hear Hunter's sarcastic giggle clearly enough through the door, let alone the intercom. "If we get to Detroit, it's only about another seven-seventy klicks to New York, and that's a massive harbour. We're probably as likely to get a Maersk boat there to cross the Atlantic towards somewhere like Rotterdam, or if we're lucky maybe all the way into the Med. From there, it's simple hops back home."

"Oh, right. I mean, I know it's not flat, but I see what you mean."

"Or even if we don't cross on a boat, if we head north towards Nova Scotia, then follow the coast along we can make the hop to Greenland, refill from the reserve and get all the way to Iceland. Either find a smuggler stop up there or file as legit, then it's a single hop back to the Scandinavian Union – and we've been there once before already. From there we've got stops we've already used to get us back towards Russia, Ludmilla's place and then south towards the Quarry, Sochi and back home."

"Good shout, Hunter. At least we'll be going over ground already covered. And the Atlantic crossing is going to be way shorter than the Pacific. Isn't it? I'm not making that up, am I?"

"No, Aswon. The distance is about the same if we head east or west from here, we really are on the other side of the world. But the actual over-water part is MUCH shorter flying east over the Atlantic.

"Is there any reason not to go via Europe? Nobody got a fatwah or death sentence hanging over them we don't know about?" Kai asked, without any trace of levity in his voice. They'd been together nearly a year, and had gotten to know each other reasonably well by now – but he also knew they all still had plenty of secrets and dark spots in their past."

"I would wish to avoid Germany, and any major Saeder-Krupp facilities for obvious reasons."

"And I should probably stay away from the UK and certain chemical companies, I suppose."

"Ok, noted, Marius and Hunter. But from the route you suggested, we should be able to do that, right? We're not going to have any issues with the cold or anything?"

"No – it's actually a better route for the bird. It's still going to be cold, wet and miserable, don't get me wrong – but just normal cold, not polar cold. The Gulfstream will moderate things a lot."

As the tilt-wing flew north, flying only a hundred metres above the rolling plains and keeping the speed down to minimise their signature, they studied the maps and the information they had received from Iceman66. The closest stop, near the city of Minneapolis, was the 'Purple People Eater' listed as a generic stopping point where several smuggler routes met up, or diverged – depending on your point of view. A little way further east was 'Crate City', which was annotated as having links to some fixers who could procure military-based gear along with the general mix of stolen or smuggled goods available at such places. And further east again, a little north of the cursed city of Chicago was 'Merv's house of Sin', noted as a prime location to score some cutting-edge pornography in any style you could imagine, and at least half a dozen you'd never considered.

Marius banked to the right, heading east in the direction of the border now that they'd decided that at least they were heading east towards Detroit, then onwards towards the coast – though if they were heading across the ocean by boat or flying themselves was still up for discussion. Kai placed a call to the number for Crate City, but got nothing but an engaged tone.

"Can't get through – maybe we should head to the People Eater place instead."

"Can we not wait until we're in the UCAS before we divert, Kai? They're not that far apart are they, anyway? Are they, Hunter?"

"Nope – two hundred and forty klicks from Purple to Crate, two hundred and thirteen from Crate to Sin. So not long if we're flying. And we're about a hundred from the border, and then six hundred more to the first location, so we've got plenty of time to adjust course without it costing us more than a couple of minutes of flying time."

The tilt-wing lurched, slowing dramatically and then slewing sideways, pushing them around in the back against their harnesses, before dropping like a roller-coaster coming over the first hill, until they pulled up about five metres from the ground, throwing up a mass of dust. Marius added a tiny bit more power, raising them up until there was less crap being thrown up from the ground and their signature lowered to something he was happy with.

"Problem, Marius?" Kai asked mildly.

"Yes. There is a wall of shit ahead. Here…look for yourself." The monitors in the back lit up, showing the sensor feed from the forward systems. Most of them had no idea what any of the notations meant, nor could they say with any certainty what they were looking at. Lines and strobes came out in arcs from dots annotated with the different codes, while some were surrounded with circles containing different blends of colours with a sweeping line that moved around the circumference. It was confusing and unclear, to say the least.

"Ahh. I see. I'm not sure everyone else understands though, so if you can just clarify what you're showing us?" Kai managed to get the line out without a smirk, earning himself several looks from the others in the back.

"I have approximately fourteen high-altitude aircraft that have their radars operating in max-range setting, doing full sweeps ahead of them as they patrol the border. There are at least twenty more ground based air-search radar systems that seem to match signature files for long range ground to air missile batteries. There is also a number of overlapping sensor fields from some fast-moving ground-based units, perhaps hovercraft or fast-APC type vehicle – either that or slow moving t-birds. But whatever is going on over there, we are not getting through that without being detected. And if those detect us, we will be shot down. Not if – but when. And whatever is going on, seems to stretch both north and south of our position to the limit of our sensors. In fact, beyond our sensors – I am picking up transmissions from beyond our effective sensor range because of the strength of their emissions."

"Well that sounds sub-optimal. Ok, if we route north or south, have we got enough fuel to get around this?"

"Unknown. If this is only on this fifty kilometre stretch of border, then perhaps – it will cost us some time and some reserve fuel, but we can make it. But if this is all the way along the border, then no. But I have no idea why this is happening. This reminds me of the kind of coverage you would see along a border during open hostilities between two nations. The Sioux and UCAS do not like each other much, but they are not at war. At least, they were not…."

"Let me check the feeds." Hunter locked onto a signal and started to rummage around, looking for a free feed or some pirate aggregator that was repackaging one of the commercial stations and jamming it full of adverts. Soon enough he found a channel with a reasonably stable connection and a 'Breaking News: Special Report from the Sioux Border' graphic scrolling along the bottom of the screen. He set to work blocking the pop-up adverts, killing their links back to their control servers until the feed was relatively clean, and then shunted it out to the monitors just as Marius drifted over to a grassy area by the side of a river and started to come in for a landing.

"I am going to set down and wait this out. Unless they are at war, whatever this is will hopefully finish soon."

"Hi, I'm Dan Mayers,"

"And I'm Susie Ortran, and we have here a special report coming to you from the Sioux Border. We cut now to footage released by the UCAS Military Media Office, shot on scene this morning by Specialist Albarez attached to the Military Media liaison service."

"Indeed, Susie, this was shot on the old US Route 20 highway, about five kilometres west of Crookston this morning, when UCAS forces started to approach the Sioux border in division strength, without apparent warning. According to sources, no war-games or exercises were scheduled, and no warning was given. We cut now to the feed…"

The picture changed from the anchor desk and the two newsreaders to a rolling set of fields that looked almost identical to those the team had been flying over for the last twenty minutes. The camera work was shaky initially, but steadied down as the operator got a grip and stopped moving, then panned over from the empty view ahead to their right, showing a whole division of APCs, ground tanks, hovercraft, heav trucks and Humvees approaching in a massive line abreast, rumbling across the fields.

"That's weird. Not tactical at all. There's no way they should be travelling in a formation like that – trucks right up front in-between tanks." Aswon leant forward to study his closest monitor. "All the tanks and APCs have their commanders' hatches open, and someone in and half-exposed, and nearly all the guns are elevated thirty or forty degrees, like you'd have on a parade. Whatever this is, it's not an invasion force."

The vehicles rumbled closer to the camera position, forming an extended line that stretched on to the edge of the picture and beyond. As the camera pans over towards the left, it showed vehicles stretching as far as the eye can see, over the horizon about three kilometres away in the middle of a huge field. The camera steadied facing what looked to be due north, a fence stretching off to the rise in the land forming the horizon running down the side of a dirt road to the left, before it and the road dropped down out of line of sight. The picture held for a moment, then swung back to the right and panned up slightly, showing choppers flying forwards in line abreast, about two hundred and fifty metres up. The choppers nosed up, going into a hover, and as the camera panned down to the ground again, it showed all the ground vehicles had stopped about a hundred metres from the fence. Swinging to the left by ninety degrees showed the blacktop road that the camera was presumably positioned on, as it approached a border checkpoint. The UCAS border guards and customs staff were all out of their huts and shacks, gawping at the massive show of military force that had closed on their position, while on the far side Sioux soldiers could be seen standing in a slightly disorganised clump, rifles held tightly in their hands and in enough of a state of disarray to show that they'd bolted from their barracks or position very hurriedly in response.

The camera zoomed in a little, aiming between two of the clumps and showed a dust cloud approaching down the highway, a force of tanks, APCs and other vehicles barrelling down the highway towards them, while overhead Sioux choppers with their noses down were charging forward at high speed to close on the border and counter the show of strength from the UCAS. Again, the formation was ragged and dishevelled, and clearly they'd been caught by surprise and thrown forward with little notice.

The camera panned back to the right, and then zoomed in on one of the trucks, showing a platoon of cavalry troopers climb down from the rear, all in their dress uniforms. A line formed, and someone inside the truck started to pass out weapons to each trooper, who took them then moved away to form up in their platoons. Once again Aswon leant in to examine the screen closely.

"All the rifles have fixed bayonets, which is unusual for a starting engagement – makes them less wieldy and harder to manage. And… yeah, all of the scopes have covers on. Like the vehicles, these people aren't expecting to fire those guns. Not with aimed fire anyway."

Once the platoon was armed, they formed a double line and marched as evenly as they could over the rough ground forward of the truck towards the border fence and the road running along it. They slipped and struggled over stubble and ploughed trenches, but as they made to a position about twenty five metres from the road they split into two lines, arcing out from each other until the last man was level with the first. The perspective shifted, showing trucks further down the view were doing likewise, until there was a row of soldiers in dress uniform stretching away into the distance, spread out evenly all standing at parade rest with the weapons sloped over their shoulder.

A drummer out of camera shot started a slow steady beat, and the line starts to move forward, undulating as those nearest the road hear and react to the audio cue first, the rest following along, and they march forwards slowly and steadily, at a pace seen normally only at funerals and remembrance parades. They continued until they reach the edge of the dirt road, the line becoming a little raggedy as they struggled over the ditch in their best uniforms and dress boots, but quickly worked to get back into a single dressed line. Within a minute a line of unbroken blue stretches out to the low rise, yellow piping and collars catching the weak morning sunlight.

A blur passed in front of the camera view, and it rapidly pulled back to bring into focus another platoon of troops, also in their dress uniforms. Each of these was noticeable in having more braid and decorative flourishes, along with a lot more medals, with most of them having sergeant rank stripes at least, some with additional bars or decorations presumably indicating some honorary position such as regimental sergeant major. Each bore a folded Sioux flag, the deep red material immaculately folded with the white central designs of the ring of tepees showing in the middle, face up. On top of each flag lays a single medal, ribbon neatly laid out. The bearers marched forwards, then performed a similar split to the one carried out in the field - but this time the line split with one man going left, one right until they formed a line abreast across the road. With twenty men present, they filled the road from edge to edge, standing shoulders almost touching. The camera shook again as the operator broke into a jog, moving off the road and down the strip of rough ground to the side until they were parallel with the line of troops, then steadied again.

Once more the drummer started a slow beat, and the flag bearers marched forward in unison, much tighter than the troops in the fields as they walked across the smooth surface of the highway, approaching the checkpoint. Sioux soldiers had now come through the barricades, rifles at the ready and confusion evident on their faces as they watched the approaching UCAS soldiers, while the UCAS side had split and moved out of the way, chivvied there by a junior NCO who had a radio pinned against one ear and an incredulous look on his face.

As the troops closed to about five metres, they stopped as one, feet stamping to attention and arms rigidly holding the flags before them. The drums stopped, and a lone bugle started to play the Last Post. Other than the drone of rotorcraft engines hovering over the fields, nothing else was audible, and the camera showed the twenty-man detail standing rigidly to attention, and beyond them platoon after platoon now standing rigidly with weapons clasped in front of them held vertically. Nothing was moving as far as the eye could see.

As the last notes fade away, the entire line of troops in their dress uniforms dropped their weapons to their side, then threw and held a salute towards the Sioux lands, rippling down the line as each trooper took their cue from the man to his left. The camera pulled back again to focus on the platoon on the road just in time to show them each take one precisely measured step forward then extend their arms forward, holding the flag out to be taken.

Again, for one moment, nothing moved. There was absolute stillness, despite the huge number of people that could be seen.

One of the Sioux border guards stepped forward, a very junior looking individual with no rank markings visible. He looked around somewhat wildly as if expecting this to be a trap of some kind, then shouldered his rifle and moved to stand just in front of one of the honour detail. He composed himself for a moment, then threw his own salute, held it for a second, then lowered his hand and raised the other, placing one on each side of the flag and gripping it firmly. For a moment, four hands gripped the flag, holding it in place, and the two soldiers stared at each other intently. Then the 7th cavalry trooper releases his hold, white gloved hands almost stroking the flag as it slides through his fingers, arms pulling away from the package until they were both clear. Briskly, he took half a step back, then raised his hand in salute, holding it while he maintained eye contact with his foreign counterpart.

Seeing what had happened, more Sioux troops come through the checkpoint, shouldering their weapons to free their hands and pairing off with a UCAS equivalent, receiving the flag and medal, then getting a sharp salute, until the last pair exchanged – the tiny digital clock in the bottom corner of the picture showing 10:26am.

The drummer started again, and the presentation squad dropped their salute, stood briefly to attention then did an about face and returned back to wherever they came from, reversing the previous manoeuvre and merging from a line abreast until they are marching away in single file. All along the line, the other Cav troopers dropped their salute – once more rippling down the line away from the checkpoint as each trooper took his cue from the man to his left, and each platoon followed along in turn. They did an about face and then marched back across the field towards the waiting trucks, all without a word. Engines started all up and down the line, and the tanks and APCS turned on the spot, tracks churning the ground to mud and ripping up the stubble from the fields, then started to motor away from the border. Once the heavy armour had moved, and the troops had reboarded their trucks, they trucks pulled into tight circles and also headed east, following along behind the armour. The video feed cut, returning back to the anchors in the studio.

"Hunter - what direction is that? That place?"

"About forty kilometres south east from us, the road is pretty straight and should be easy to spot." No sooner had he finished speaking did the team members in the rear spot Tads' body slump as her spirit vaulted out and flew off, travelling down towards the location where the broadcast had taken place.

"Well, those were the scenes on the UCAS / Sioux border earlier today, as elements of the 2nd Cavalry brigade, led by the 7th cavalry regiment approached unexpectedly to apparently render military honours in a surprise ceremony. One of the most notable features of this surprising move, other than the apparent lack of planning that went into it, is that no senior military officials were present to give a public speech or explain what was going on, and the liaison office has yet to publish an explanation for the event."

"That's right, Susie. Shortly after the event concluded, there was a press release from the White House though, in which Vice President Nadja Daviar appared and gave a short statement, citing the event as a 'historic chance to heal the wounds of the past and foster better co-operation and understanding between our two great nations. The only way not to repeat the mistakes of the past is to learn from them, and the best way to defeat your enemies is to make them your friends.' VP Daviar did not take or respond to any questions after reading the statement."

"A very strange event indeed, Dan, with military pundits and social dynamics managers all equally perplexed by the suddenness of the presentation and confounded by the meaning of the transfer of medals. Clearly though, the troops on the ground felt that the situation was serious, and the entire ceremony appeared to have a very solemn character."

"Indeed, Susie – a powerful performance from the bugler that I'm sure will have raised hairs on the back of the neck for any veteran that heard it. Initial reactions show that the nation seems to be divided with a majority questioned that welcome the apparent peace initiative on one hand and a small but very vocal minority that seem to regard the move as pandering to the Indians and their threat to the UCAS way of life on the other. On the show tonight, we'll have live interviews from across the UCAS to discuss further, along with expert commentary back here in the studio."

"Looking forward to that show, Dan – it's sure to be a fiery and heated exchange! And now, in other news, UCAS Secretary of Defence Gerald Hughes announced that the military will take delivery of three wings of Ares Phoenix class Low Altitude Vehicles following the brokerage of a new financing deal with Ares Arms." The feed shifted again, cutting away from the anchors and showing a stubby, ungainly looking brick of a vehicle, slabs of heavy armour and huge weapons poking out of a brick-like fuselage with small canard wings and massive jet thrusters – an aircraft that was not designed to slice aerodynamically through the atmosphere but more to tell it to get out of the way or suffer the consequences… The female anchor's voice continued to add detail: "The UCAS military is expected to start taking delivery of the new craft over the next few weeks, replacing some of the aging McDonnell-Douglass Thunderbolt strike craft that have been the mainstay of the air-cav squadrons." The picture shifted back to the pair in the studio, who both turned to their left, "And now, over to the weather..."

Hunter cut the feed's audio, but left the video playing, just in case anything else interesting happened. Before anyone could speak, Tads twitched then opened her eyes, looking up and around at them.

"Well, found it – but didn't get too close. Lots of press there now, lots of civilians too it seems, all pressing in on the checkpoint. Plenty of spirits wandering around and a couple of mages, checking the area over very carefully. Really weird feeling to the place – a massive sense of alarm and fear slowly fading away, but with an undercurrent of confusion, respect and consideration. I don't think much of anyone knew what was going on, but it generated some really positive emotions near the checkpoint – hugely strong. Whatever happened there REALLY meant something to a lot of people. And I'm guessing that was whatever Ehran wanted from this Sec Def person?"

"Probably Tads. In fact almost certainly." Kai rubbed his chin for a moment. "Hey Marius – can you pull up the logs from your robot things, and tell me if the time when the ghost dudes arrived matches anything from that footage?"

"They are drones Kai, not robots. But yes – the ghosts of the cavalry appeared at 10:26 am, matching the handover of the last medal and flag."

"Well, that seems entirely too coincidental doesn't i…" Kai paused as Shimazu twitched a little, then carried on as he settled. "…doesn't it. I mean, that really seals it in my mind that the two things are related. I'm still not entirely sure why they did what they did, but it worked, and it probably saved our hoops, so…. Yay?"

They watched the footage again, playing over some pieces several times with Marius or Aswon identifying some of the hardware on display and giving the rest of the team a run-down on the capabilities or level of threat they represented. Once that was done, the three magically active members of the team went over the craft from nose to stern, doing a thorough check to look for any lingering astral traces or oddities, before coming back inside and subjecting Shimazu to another thorough check up. He appeared to be his normal self, with no magical parasites or spirits inhabiting his body or displacing his normal persona, though he twitched and moaned as if having a bad dream. But – if what Ehran had said was taken literally, then that seemed to be exactly what was going on, his human mind struggling to make sense of something that should be impossible.

About an hour later, he finally opened his eyes, looking up to see the team relaxing and sitting still. He spied his sword and scabbard leaning against the fuselage, moving to get it and then discovering the restraint. Semi-glazed eyes watched with incomprehension at first as he rattled at the cuff until he realised what was going on. He tried to speak, but his voice just cracked and broke at first, until he let out a racking cough that cleared some of the thick phlegm that was blocking his throat. Tads leaned over with a cup of water and let some pour into his mouth, swirling around and rehydrating him somewhat.

"Thanks. My sword – I need my sword."

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Shimazu," Kai tried to sooth him, and gave him a big smile.

"Sword. I NEED my sword."

"You've been through a lot. Why don't you just rest…" Kai watched as Shimazu rattled the cuff again, putting more effort in.

"Sword! Now!" His voice rose a little and they could see a vein bulging on the side of his neck, and he seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilating or having a panic attack. Aswon stood and backed off, then grabbed his spear, aiming it generally down towards Shimazu.

"Go ahead, Kai. But then move back, just in case." Kai nodded to Aswon, then moved the scabbard over, laying it on Shimazu's chest before swiftly moving backwards away from him as far as he could. The presence of the sword seemed to have a calming effect on the bodyguard, and they saw him relax a little. He pulled the sword partially from the scabbard, exposing about three hundred millimetres of steel, then carefully placed his palm on the edge of the blade and pushed down firmly, moving the hand away from him. The razor-sharp edge easily parted the skin, slicing down into his palm and a line of blood appeared as Shimazu carefully sliced through his epidermis and exposed the tissue below. Across the fuselage, Aswon was watching in astral space, and noticed that Shimazu had deliberately turned off all of his adept powers – at least one of which allowed him to resist pain.

"Ahhh, it hurts. Goooood." A small smile pulled at his lips, and Shimazu's head lowered back to the deck plate. His hand clenched, stopping too much blood from leaking out, and he used the closed fist to push the sword fully back into the scabbard."

"Shimazu – can I heal that?" Tads asked.

"No – I need it to hurt. Bandage it, sure. But not heal. Pain is good."

Kai frowned, but then pulled out the medkit and removed a simple bandage, then peeled the hand open, pressing down swiftly on the cut before it opened too far. The absorbent pad soaked up the blood, turning a pinky colour almost immediately, but Kai pushed his hand closed over the top again quickly, before wrapping the bandage around the fist to apply additional pressure. It would stop the bleeding quickly, especially with the coagulant chemicals impregnated into the bandage – but it wouldn't do anything to stop the pain. Apparently that was what he wanted though…

"Thanks… please – leave the light on. Make sure it's light."

"We can do that, Shimazu. Why not rest for a bit."

"I will. Could I have some oats, please? Just some simple oats, nothing fancy."

"Of course. I'll make some fresh for you." Tads moved back a little and rummaged through the kitchen supplies, looking for a container to create some food into and broke out the small stove to start heating some milk up.

"I was stretched, you know. Stretched… into nothingness. Stretching off across it."

"Ok?" Kai wasn't sure what he was talking about, but he figured that Shimazu would explain when he was ready, and that he probably wanted a sympathetic ear at the moment rather than to convey information.

"We're frogs in a well. Or a flower. But there's things outside, things we've never seen. But I've seen them now. And the golden man. Who was the golden man? It was dark, but they were warm, and alive."

"The golden man? At the meeting? That would have been Harlequin or Ehran then?" Aswon suggested.

"No, not the clown man. Not a clown man. Not inside. A force of nature – like nothing I've ever seen before. But tired, oh so tired. But what a warrior. Maybe one day I could be like him."

"So probably Ehran then." Aswon stayed back, spear at the ready. It wasn't like Shimazu to be this talkative, and he still wasn't sure that he hadn't been affected by his ordeal. "Or maybe one of the shaman from the ritual group."

"The shaman? I saw them, on the bridge. It got them, and they fell, fell, fell….fell, screaming into the void. I don't know why they fell. I need to figure this out."

"Perhaps you need some time. Relax, mediate, practice your breathing. When your mind is calm, and the time is right, the answers will come."

"Yes, ok. I'll sleep now for a bit." He closed his eyes again, and his breathing slowed. They waited silently for a minute, watching him, and relaxing a little when a gentle snore rumbled out from him – but only a little. What clinched it was when the hand that was laid over his sword slowly slid off to land by his side, leaving the scabbard resting on his chest – still in contact with him, but not in his hand.

"I'll mediate a little and watch over him, if you want to rest. Unless we're leaving soon?"

"I suggest we wait for nightfall," Marius called over the intercom. "It will give the border time to calm down, and make the crossing easier if there are still guards on a heightened alert posture. And we don't have a particular schedule to keep."

"Sounds good to me. I think we need to watch him carefully."

"I don't disagree, Aswon – but something you may not have considered… we bought him in through the normal door, which means he passed through the ward. A powerful ward, which didn't so much as twitch or kick. So as far as the ward is concerned, it's just him as one of the people that helped build it." Aswon nodded to Tads, realising that she was correct. "And his aura has changed a little. Not much, but just a little. He's looking more vibrant and alive now, and there's an edge to his feelings. If I had to categorise it, I'd say 'hopeful'. Not much, but it's there. I think he needed to feel something from the real world, to prove he wasn't… well wherever he was." She bought over the pan of hot porridge and set it down on the deck, close enough to Shimazu that he could reach it when he wanted to. How hot it would be by that time, who knew?

The smell of the porridge had started to permeate the air, and they saw his nose twitch once, then again. Sleepily he opened his eyes and let his head flop over, then made a grab for the bowl, missing on the first attempt but getting it on the second. He poured some of the nearly scalding porridge into his mouth, seeming to enjoy the burning sensation and the taste. A few large mouthfuls were consumed with gusto, then he set the bowl back down, and laid his head back.

"Thank you. I needed that."

"Don't worry, Shimazu. You're welcome… and I'm glad you're back. I'm sorry that it happened – it's my job to protect and defend people, and I let you down."

"No, you didn't. I jumped in the way. Was gonna hit Kai. Had to stop it." He opened an eye again and stared up at Kai. "You're welcome by the way." Kai winked at him in return, but then relaxed and gave him a genuine smile, not one of his social engineering carefully calculated expressions of joy and friendliness.

"What you did with that bolt – it nearly worked though. Nearly. So we need you to rest up and recover, and work out how to do it right. For next time, you need to do better."

"Ok, Aswon. But more sleep first."

Shimazu closed his eyes once more and relaxed, drifting off to sleep while the team watched over him, stood guard on the craft or continued their magical and mundane studies, waiting for night to fall so they could cross the border into the UCAS and continue their journey towards Detroit and their mysterious invitation to go and see Ares.

Walking into the lion's den, the private back yard of one of the ten most powerful corporations in the world, at the behest of their CEO. What could possibly go wrong with that…