FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

. Chapter One .

The mid-morning sun twinkled off the chrome bumper attached to a nondescript black SUV wending its way up the drive. Billowing behind the truck a plume of red dust drifted lazily in the still air. Grasshoppers and day crickets buzzed in the tall hayfields to either side of the dusty track, blissfully ignoring the intruding behemoth while those in the center of the drive scurried and flew out of its path.

The vehicle slowed at a white picket fence encasing an impeccably manicured swath of bright green. The lawn framed a rustic, whitewashed and green-shuttered farmhouse. Brakes whined softly as it stopped in front of a rose covered arch, the engine dying as the driver pulled the key. The ticking of a cooling engine competed with the constant insect drone for a minute until the door opened smoothly. A black, orange-striped feline stepped from the cab and smoothed his equally dark suit jacket, taking a moment to fiddle with his tie in the rear view mirror. Confident that all was well, he shut the door and took one step toward the gate.

"That's far enough, Lou," a thick, male voice said. The unmistakable sound of a hammer pulling back gave additional weight to the thinly veiled promise of violence in the newcomer's voice.

"Now, Cain, is that any way to greet an old friend?" the suited feline said.

"You'd be better off if you got your striped ass back in that vehicle and got the fuck off my land, old friend," came a growled reply.

"Really, Cain. I am touched by your hospitality," Lou said, turning slowly with hands raised. "You really should give up the tabac. It is a dead give-away."

Cain merely snarled and squinted at the cat. Slowly he reset the hammer on the blocky pistol he held, He lowered the weapon past the charred stump of an unlit cigar clenched in his flat teeth. It passed a bare, sweaty brown chest, sliding finally into a low-slung, quick-draw holster.

"Good boy," Lou said with a smirk. "We have a job that requires someone of your ... unique ... skill and persuasion."

"You should learn to read the newspaper more often. I'm 'retired'. Been 'retired' for the last five years," Cain said, keeping his un-patched equine eye locked on the tiger's gaze.

"Yes, yes, I know. I was at your ... retirement party."

"And if I say no?"

"Tisk, tisk. Cain my boy," Lou said shaking his head slightly. "We both know the answer to that, do we not?" he continued, a sudden, hard edge creeping into his voice. "Besides, don't you miss the rush?"

Cain snorted derisively, then turned on a hoof and stalked up the paving stone steps and opened the gate. "Shut it when you come through. It's cooler in the house," he said, not bothering to look back as he made his way up the short walk and onto the wide front porch.

Lou smirked wickedly, admiring the well-muscled rump for a moment. Then he looked out toward a specific point on the distant tree line, he held up two fingers and a thumb for a moment, then one finger. A single twinkle from the woods responded. Nodding in satisfaction, he opened the rear door of the SUV and removed a steel briefcase and then followed Cain into the house.

Wide, lace covered windows let in the strong southern sun through half-slitted blinds, illuminating a matched set of leather couches. The bare wooden floor creaked softly as the tiger padded through the living room towards the dining area and kitchen. He stopped at the division between the two, waiting for the large stainless-steel door of the refrigerator to close. "Beer?" the stallion asked.

Lou arched an eyebrow.

"What?" Cain asked, cracking open the bottle. "It's five somewhere. Probably where you're sending me. Besides, seein' your fuckin' face don't help." He pitched the cap over his shoulder with a flick of the thumb. It spun in a graceful arc, landing with a clink in the trash can.

Lou only harrumphed and walked around Cain's bulky form to set the briefcase on the kitchen cook island. He popped the latches, tilted the top up, and slipped a catch on the inside. An antenna extended slowly from the lid, unfolding Yagi style bristles. A soft electronic whine hummed from the case, rising in pitch to inaudibility as a capacitor charged. Then, a clawed finger flipped a switch.

"Ugh, Those things make my skin crawl," Cain said, shaking his head and scratching his arms.

"That is to let you know the dampening field is working," Lou explained absently. The tiger laid a small, black velvet bag on the counter next to the butcher's block. A manilla shipping folder appeared next, its flap sealed with red and white striped security tape.

Wordlessly, Cain collected the folder from Lou. An emblazoned warning of "EYE ONLY" and "TOP SECRET: PRISMATIC" in garish, blood like print screamed across the crisp, unbroken paper. He ignored some half-witted desk jockey's attempt at humor and pointed at the second stamp. "Prismatic?" Cain asked, before taking a knife from the block and breaking the seal.

Lou nodded. "Black is so ... cliché these days," he said with a smirk. "In all seriousness, Cain, I do believe only the director and possibly one other is privy to any of this, including myself." Lou watched as the equine up-ended the folder and a small thumb drive fell into his large palm.

Casting an evil, one-eyed glance at the tiger, Cain pinched the microchip and studied it for a moment. "Got a reader?" he asked.

"Fresh out. Use yours," he replied.

"Bastard," he spat back. "That piece of shit always gives me a fuckin' migrane."

"Perhaps if you had not left, the equipment branch would have ..."

"Given me a damn aneurysm is what they would have done," Cain interrupted.

He opened a cupboard and withdrew a small, oblong box with a thick wire extruding from one end. The tail of the cable ended with a short spike and claw-like grips. The other end sported a more normal looking electrical wire. He plugged it into the wall outlet above the counter and waited until the lamps showed green. Folding his eye-patch up, he fiddled with something metallic before inserting the probe into the data port. It sunk in and with a gentle nudge, the grips clamped down onto small studs with a solid click.

"Resistance is ..." Lou began with a smirk.

"Stow it, asshole," Cain growled with ears pinned back. He set a disconnected lens on the counter next to the butter dish and swapped the patch to his good eye. The jump drive slipped into a receptacle on the reader and the world faded into a blue-screen centered with the Agency's departmental seal.

. Chapter Two .

"Greetings agent Cain," began the director's disembodied and sultry voice. "Welcome back, though I wish it were under better circumstances. Normally, we'd employ a non-retired agent, but you are the best qualified and more importantly, in the neighborhood." A scene of a painted desert faded into view. "This is the operational headquarters of a secretive organization calling themselves the 'Human Liberation Front' or 'HLF'." The scene zoomed in on a non-nondescript cave opening on the side of a small mesa. "This is the entrance to their hidden underground base. Most of it is contained within this mesa, and therefore would be difficult - at best - to eliminate by more conventional means. The HLF abdicates and supports what they call 'forcible genetic cleansing'. I believe the proper term for this would be 'Xenocide'. The group recently received a large, lump sum of funding from a number of other radical fringe groups. Attempts to infiltrate the command structure have, so far, been uneventful, but we believe that they're planning something awful. We have evidence suggesting that this group has been responsible for a rash of low profile disappearances in some of the major metropolitan areas of the west coast. While this, in and of itself, may not be cause for alarm, it is the end result that has us worried. Pay attention, Cain. This video has cost the lives of several of our agents to retrieve."

A shaky, grainy video faded into view. "The time signature in the lower right was added in later by us," the director commented. The unconscious and naked form of a calico feline strapped spread-eagle to a metal table filled his view. Two dark skinned humans in stark white lab gear and large, frizzy, spherical hairdos stood with their backs to the camera on either side, checking the restraints. As if responding to some unspoken off-camera cue, one of the lab techs pricked the female's skin with a needle. Both techs then backed away, but not before the needle tech groped the cat's chest with a chuckle. "Subject 2 dash 3-1-2 Foxtrot. Compound Tacgnol-3. All unnecessary personell must clear the room," a deep, electronically amplified voice spoke out over cheap loudspeakers. "Repeat: All unnecessary personell must now clear the room."

The cat's body stirred slightly as it groggily came back to consciousness. Golden eyes slowly focused on its surroundings, the head flopping over to look at the leather wrist cuffs. "Where ... am I? What's going ... on?" she managed to croak out.

"Subject is conscious. Initiate sequence," the voice returned. "Bring the laser processing system to full charge, please." The view panned down to focus on a control panel. Dark skinned hands slowly pushed a slide-lever to its upper limit. A low, throbbing hum began to pulse across the audio, picking up in tempo and pitch. The camera returned to the subject, now struggling, albeit weakly, against her bonds.

"Let me go," she pleaded, looking into the camera, ears low and eyes wide. The type of pitiful face that felines are masters of, only this time, it was genuine.

"On my mark," the voice called again. "Turn the delivery switch to 'ON'. Three ... Two ... One ... Mark." A soft click as an unseen hand turned the requested switch and the camera panned up, giving a short glimpse of a back lit control room and mechanical arms descending from the ceiling encased in a large, clear tube..

One probe like appendage swung down and stopped at head height while the tube encased the strapped-in feline, socketing into a thick, rubber-foam seal on the floor. Fear gave way to raw panic and the subject began to thrash her body on the table, choking slightly on the neck restraint. She opened her mouth to scream and the probe darted forward, stuffing itself between her teeth.

"Easy, Number Seven. Try not to kill the subject this time, please? Begin infusion sequence."

Somewhere, a large motor whined. Floor vents slid open in the tube and a greenish-yellow vapor quickly filled the chamber. "Chamber is full, sir, shutting fan down." Muffled grunts, choked yowls, and sputtering coughs came from inside the tube. "Subject is ingesting the compound, sir, starting thirty minute countdown in three, two, one, mark."

The scene ticked as the time counter jumped ahead. The tube was gone and the metal table now rest parallel with the concrete floor. Once again, two lab techs were fiddling with the leather restraints, only this time they were removing them. One gave an evil chuckle, swiping his gloved palm against the fur along the inside of the cat's arm. He held it up for the camera person to see. "Number Twelve reporting. Initial effects have already started, sir," he said, displaying the bare patch of feline skin.

"Good," the amplified voice said as the table retracted into the floor. The two techs stepped away and out of range of the camera.

Another tick forward by the time sequence with the table and its contents on the floor. The cat looked to be in bad shape, she writhed and yowled. Clumps of matted fur piled on the floor. She raised a shaking paw to her face and screamed, watching the paw-pads elongate. The claws and muscles rearranged into a more ... human configuration. She gripped her head as the bones crackled and shifted.

"Remind me, Number Two, to anesthetize the subject next time," the voice said.

"Good one, Number Four. Anesthetize!" came a chortled response

Mercifully, the scene changed again, this time, showing a naked, hairless human female. The skin still kept the calico's pattern in the form of lighter and darker melanins. She still twitched, hiding her face from the camera.

"Subject 2 dash 3-1-2 Foxtrot. Liberation is complete."

The film faded to black.

"If you think that's bad, keep in mind that we showed you only highlights from what these monsters are calling a success, not the failures," the director's voice cut in. "We found out that this is the first of several successes. Each case, however, has been driven insane by the change. Most have committed suicide, usually by chewing a hole in both wrists. The HLF fully intend to weaponize this ... Compound Tacgnol-3 and reduce our cooperative civilization to babbling anarchy." A new picture faded into view of a balding, bespectacled human scientist. His remaining white hair contrasted sharply with his dark skin. "This is Professor James "Moareu" Allegheny. He's the primary target. We'd like him ALIVE, agent Cain. I am sure you remember what that means, no? We have under good authority that he would like to leave the HLF organization and he has offered us full access to the formula, manufacturing methods and an antidote in exchange." Another slide faded in, detailing the underground complex. "The primary data storage is here," the director noted, as the 3D view rotated and zoomed in on a flashing green room. "As you can see, a design flaw has worked to our advantage in that the storage room is very near a main exhaust duct. It will be necessary for you to plant an electronic data collection bug on the NAS rack. It will insert a worm into the data stream, allowing us to bypass their internal security. All other operational details will be handled by agent Lou. Prepare for compressed data dump. Good luck, and God speed."

The audio cut to dead silence as the image faded first to a blue background with the Agency's seal, and then collapsed in to a small point of blinking light. It pulsed in and out three times before the horrid noise of raw data blasted its static through Cain's skull like a swarm of angry bees in a snowstorm. The stallion shuddered and quaked, fighting every urge to tear the probe from his skull until ... blessed silence and a softly glowing "EOF" marker.

. Chapter Three .

"Holy shit, what a mind-fuck," Cain muttered, staggering and leaning heavily on the counter. He stood there for a moment, one hand cradling his pounding head, rubbing small circles above his ocular implant. Then, he popped a release catch on the cable, disengaging the probe. The card reader's lights flashed orange and a thin, acrid smoke wafted from the back end of the thumb drive. He replaced the lens over the data port and slipped the patch back in place. Fumbling open the cupboard again, he grabbed a bottle labeled "Bute" and chewed two pills. The extremely bitter and foul taste of the pain killer barely registered.

Lou stood, arms crossed and impassionate to the dump sickness. "You have grown soft in your absence," he said, pulling out a handkerchief.

"Suck my dick," Cain returned, raising a shaky middle finger, not bothering to look up.

"We're getting to that, but not while we have business to attend to," he said with a smirk. The draped paw dabbed at a small runnel of blood trickling from the stallion's left nostril before handing the cloth over.

Cain accepted the handkerchief and pinched off the flow above his nostril. "How long was I down?"

"You were in dump-mode for the better part of an hour or so. I am Tac-Ops on this run and will remain outside the insertion point as your uplink. Once you install the bug, I will be able to patch into the security systems, locate Dr. Moareu, and insert the payload."

"Tac-Ops? Damn, you're moving up in the world then. Poor bastard," he said pointing at the data-reader. "I know you were in longer than I was. You'd think that one'd eventually get used to that shit, 'eh?" he said, removing the destroyed chip from the reader. He placed it in a thick glass container and dug under the sink, pulling out a jug of clear, yellow-tinged liquid. He splashed some onto the chip and watched as the acid hissed and smoked, dissolving what was left of the memory card beyond recovery. "Insertion method?" he asked, snuffing the blood back and pitching the handkerchief into the sink.

"A modified Personal Rocket Propelled System Mark 5, or PeRPS-5," he explained. "We are scheduled to air-drop onto a nearby mesa and boost the rest of the way in."

"Armament?"

"Each, one pistol, two magazines, silencer and knife. Anything else is OOS." Lou picked up the velvet bag. "You get the bug, I have this." He patted the case.

"You and your fuckin' bag of tricks ..."

"This 'fucking bag of tricks' has saved your ass more than once, if I remember correctly," Lou began indignantly.

"Stuff it, you pompous prick. I wasn't making an insult. When's the fireworks?"

"There should not even be any fireworks, Cain. This is to be a quiet mission."

"Rocket propelled entry, kidnapping a high-value scientist, stealing and then destroying their records and the phrase 'quiet mission'... I smell something ... and it smells suspiciously like bullshit."

Lou sighed. "Just keep the bloodshed to a minimum," he grumbled, glancing at his watch.

"'All according to operational need and the situation at hand'," he quoted the field agent manual with a smirk.

Lou ignored the dig. "The briefing went faster than anticipated. Transport is not expected for at least another couple of hours."

"Sure you don't want that beer?" Cain asked, making for the refrigerator.

Lou side-stepped into Cain's path and put one paw on the horse's muscled chest. "Not a bad idea," he began softly, "but I would rather have some of that dick you offered earlier," he finished, tracing his claw tips down the washboard. He leaned in and scraped his tongue across Cain's bare breast, licking the musky equine sweat from it. Black paws slid down to the stallion's waistband, quickly opening his tight jeans and pulling out the thick, dark cock. Slowly the tiger sank to his knees and nuzzled along Cain's pole.

"W..wait," Cain gasped. "They ... uhnf ... They'll overhear."

Lou looked up and reached into his suit jacket pocket, pulling out a slim, silver coloured remote. He punched in a code on the keypad, eliciting a soft beep from the case. His rough feline tongue started at the equine's smooth ball sack and licked up the shaft to the pulsing tip. He continued his slow progress back up as he stood, letting the jacket slip off and crumple on the kitchen floor. "I put the field on random scramble. By the time they figure it out, the transport will have arrived," he said with a hand-full of stallion jewels.

Cain scooped Lou into his arms and strutted quickly to the bedroom, his lips locked around the other's. Once there, the pony broke the kiss and set the cat on the bed. He opened Lou's slacks and slowly peeled the black fabric down, nickering softly at what he revealed.

Lou's pulsing, pink penis protruding from its pitch-coloured pocket, throbbed in high contrast above the soft belly-fur. Equally dark orbs, encased in fuzz-covered flesh beckoned and teased as Cain finished removing the tiger's pants. The stallion lowered his nose to snuffle at the cat's musky crotch and then pitched his head up and curled his upper lip back. He shook his head, snorting and lowered back down, twitching his lip along Lou's cock.

"Mmrrrowl," Lou purr-moaned, arching his back and stretching out along the bed. He reached up to loosen his tie and unbutton the shirt's neck. Eyes closed, he gasped softly when Cain took his shaft into those warm, soft lips while one paw dug into the old-fashioned quilt covering the sheets. The other slid down his shirt and lightly caressed the side of Cain's face.

Cain wiggled and tugged his sweat dampend jeans down with one hand while his mouth worked over the feline's flesh spike. After the pants hit the floor and he stepped free, the stallion slipped his hand between the mattress, pulled out a bottle of lube and squirted some below Lou's ball sack. Then, he caressed the lube-soaked fur and skin, slowly working a pair of fingers into the cat's ass.

Lou groaned louder at the penetration of his pucker. He shuddered softly as equine fingers pushed upwards and milked along his prostate gland, pushing the fluid into Cain's mouth. Both paws clenched into the mattress now, and his rear claws flexed in and out with each slow bob of the stallion's head. "I want to ride," he moaned.

Cain nodded and crawled up onto the bed, laying on his back with a goofy grin. "Saddle up," he nickered.

Lou took the bottle of lube, knelt between the stallion's muscular legs and grasped Cain's cock firmly. Forming a cup with his clenched paw, he slowly dribbled the clear, slick fluid across the blunt tip until a small puddle collected. Then, he squeezed the head, and slid his paw down the shaft, painting a bright sheen across the flesh. Cool, soft paw pads slipped gently up and down, making the stallion squirm slightly. With a toothy grin, Lou shifted forward. He held the spike in one paw, positioning it on the porch of his back door. Then, he inhaled sharply as he leaned back onto it, the other paw clenching into Cain's chest.

"Haaaaahhh!" Cain exclaimed. "Claws!"

"Sorry," Lou said, relaxing his grip. He rocked slightly on the equine's pole, purring loudly as it sank farther and farther in. The tip shoved past his prostate and another runnel of man-milk dribbled down his shaft. Finally his hips rested on the stallion's and he squeezed his muscles around the shaft while leaning forward to lick Cain's nose.

Cain slipped a hand along the tiger's thigh and then up under his shirt, brushing his strong fingers across the cat's nipples. Finally, they wandered south into Lou's crotch and petted the throbbing, drizzling slab. Lou's tail quivered as he stretched, arching his back and sitting up to rock his hips, thrusting his cock into Cain's palm. "Ahh," the stallion murmured, adding his own thrusts. There had been some time lapse since his last roll in the hay and the vice grip of Lou's clenching tunnel quickly pulled the equine's control away. He groaned loudly, feeling his flare begin to stretch against the cat's guts. He sped up his strokes on Lou as Lou sped up his thrusts on him.

Both furres' eyes closed, and mouths opened as they both panted, snorted, yowled and purred at an ever faster pace.

Lou placed a paw back on Cain's chest again and then the stallion slip over the edge. With a slight twinge of pleasurable pain in his bowels, he felt Cain's cock tip mushroom out an instant before he stiffened, ploughing the thick horse cock in as far as it would go. Cain's hand squeezed hard against Lou's shaft and jerked erratically as blast after blast filled the cat's bum. Mere moments later, Lou joined in the orgasm festival. His cock flared as well, but with spikes instead of a blocky wad of flesh, and erupted in a hot geyser of cum. Lou "chuffed" with each squirt, leaning heavy against Cain's chest, and emptied his balls before collapsing against his lover.

Some time later, the soft beeping of a watch alarm split across the quiet purring. "Bloody hell," Lou muttered, "I hate to say this but ... we need to get dressed."

"What about a shower?"

"No time for a shower now. That is the transport proximity alert."

"If we show up smelling like a fresh fuck, they'll know what went on here."

Lou shook his head. "They already knew it would. Why else do you think I was sent?" He leaned in and began to lick his seed from Cain's chest. "Hmm ... I waited five years for this again," he said.

Cain shivered as the cat's sandpaper tongue slid over his right nipple. "Damn, you've got to stop that shit!"

"Why?" Lou teased, coyly, shifting his rump and squeezing the remains of Cain's hard-on.

"If you don't, we'll be getting on that transport buck ass naked and I'll be a little busy filling a tiger-shaped condom."

Lou laughed and slid forward, moaning softly as the stallion's flare passed from his body with a wet, sloppy squelch. "Though I suppose that would be an interesting show for them, the mission would still have to be done, and I do not feel like dealing with the director. Shi has very dim views about overt fraternization. Especially when it is immediately before a mission. Remember that night in Monaco?" He slid off of Cain's body and then off the bed.

"That ol' bitch is still in the chair? Yeah, I remember hir. I remember hir damn policies. And if I remember right, we broke every damn one of those policies in Monaco too," the stallion said, sitting up on an elbow.

"We never did get a shower then either," Lou giggled, tossing Cain his jeans. "I believe that is when they put the basinji on our tail."

Cain stood and pulled his wallet from the pants and tossed them in the dirty clothes. The wallet slipped into a drawer next to the bed and a well-oiled leather shoulder holster slipped out. He pulled the five-seven free and racked a round into the chamber. Then he popped the clip and pulled two rounds from a box and loaded them. "Oh, that's who that was?" he asked innocently before tapping it on his palm, and resetting it in the weapon. "Oops." he said, setting the hammer gently back against the pin. Pulling black BDUs from the closet and a black skin-tight T-shirt from the dresser, he began to assemble his mission outfit.

Lou raised an eyebrow, sliding one leg into his slacks. "I really hate it when you say that. Did you ...?"

"Confucius say: How many do it take to keep secret?" Cain returned in a forced Siamese accent. He looked over at Lou with one arm in his top. "I don't know what happened, and anyone else who does ain't sayin' much," he said flatly, pulling his shirt over his head.

Lou shrugged and watched Cain dress, lingering as long as possible before leading out of the bedroom with a raised tail. He walked back to the counter and began reassembling the briefcase. He tossed the velvet bag at the sound of creaking boards. "Here, slip that in one of your pockets," he said, without looking up. He clicked the briefcase shut and then headed back out to the front door.

Cain caught the bag and did as he was told. He watched for a moment, then followed out of the house, pausing only to lock the door and slip a key under a flower-pot. "Make sure you let those fuck-heads know about my key, asshole," he said to Lou. "I don't want to come back to another busted lock that some retarded probie used for picking practice. Them damn things are a pain in the ass to engineer."

"Just shut up and get in the truck."

. Chapter four .

"You've got to be fuckin' kidding me!" Cain exclaimed, taking a look at the bat-winged apparatus. "They expect us to fly on that tinker-toy piece of shit?" He rattled the composite structure.

"As always, Cain, your confidence in our equipment branch is underwhelming. This, quote, 'tinker-toy piece of shit', as you so eloquently put it, can handle three of you at a 7-G boost," Lou said, pulling the last of the brown camouflage netting off of the PeRPS-5 units. "It also returns a radar signature the size of a mosquito, if it returns one at all."

"E-Branch has had its share of complete fuck-ups. There's more than one time I've had a piece of equipment become a very interesting and oddly shaped hammer."

"Was that before or after you broke it over someone else's head?" Lou sniped.

"Hey now! Just a damn minute ..."

"Just strap in and pay attention while I go through the pre-flight. We hardly have the time to go through an argument," Lou said sharply. "It will be dark soon and we have to be in the air before then."

Cain muttered something vile under his breath but complied, crawling under the fragile looking wing and linking into the High-G-Assister harness. "Who's bright idea was it to strap a hang-glider to a fuckin' cruise missile anyway?"

"Very observant. Normally, there would be a small, rubber-cement rocket attached to each of these wings, but that is inadequate for our purposes. Now, below your left and right thumbs are one button each. The operation is simple. Lift the safety and click. The primary ignition is located on the left. The black box with the series of coloured LEDs is your detachment gauge. Approximately fifteen seconds after ignition, the gauge will be in the zone indicated by the white strip. Use the button under your right thumb to jettison the booster." The tiger fiddled with something on Cain's craft before doing the same to his. Altimeter and compass are in the center of your goggles' HUD."

"Simple enough. What happens if I don't jettison the booster?"

"S.F.B.U." replied Lou soberly, crawling under the wing of his own craft.

Cain arched an eyebrow. "Shit Fucking Blows Up, 'eh? What happened to the 'no fireworks' rule?"

"That applies to inside the base, not out here. Officially, this is an operational test of this model of cruise missiles today that has been advertised through the local media. Since we are still on the Naval Missile Testing Range, it was arranged for us to hitch-hike along. That is the other reason for detaching from them. This is but one leg of their hastily altered flight plan. The initial heading will be bearing 2-7-5 degrees and try not to stray too far off course. You remember what the aerial photo looks like?" They both maneuvered the crafts to face the correct heading. Luck was with them, a slight breeze blew gently into their faces.

"How could I forget? They crammed it into my head with the other mission bullshit," Cain grumbled.

"Humph. Just review the photo again. Notice the faint dirt track and wadi?"

Cain closed his eye and recalled the reconnaissance. Nodding slowly, he said, "That's the landmark set we follow from here to there if we get off track."

"Still sharp as ever."

"One question," Cain asked. "Why not just parachute onto their mesa? That would have been a hell of a lot easier."

"Though most of the technology inside that base is almost fifty years old, their radar would have picked up our signal coming down. It is easier to glide in, hidden by the ground clutter than it would be to try and stealth through their detection umbrella. Not only that, they are on the fringe of the general aviation No-Fly Zone. Commercial and private air traffic just does not exist this close to a missile testing range."

Cain laughed. "Yeah, I wouldn't want a supersonic 'Rattler' warhead stuffing itself into my ass either."

"Our hard ceiling on this flight is rather low. No more than 350 feet AGL."

"Not much time to scream, much less pop the emergency chute," Cain remarked, pulling his helmet on and goggles down.

"Yes, but try dodging a SAM in one of these things. Oh, and that is the brake for when we arrive, not a safety chute."

Cain nodded. "Ready?"

Lou nodded. "Two more things. I would like to keep it at about 200 feet and then bleed off speed climbing the last 100 feet or so. It'll make it easier to land. After separation, dive forward and left. Race you to the edge?"

"You'll lose. Three ... Two ... One ... GO!" and a pair of rocket engines roared to life, belching smoke and fire from the rear. Speed built quickly and the edge of the cliff fell behind within moments. Cain shouted into the roar of air and rocket, trying to ignore the shaking that threatened to rattle the teeth from his head. Grimly he counted off the seconds while keeping an eye on the LED strip. Finally, it flashed red and slipped into the white zone. He mashed the jettison button and nosed down, swooping away from the missile's exhaust.

"Damn! What a rush!" Cain shouted. He stole a look at the glow and contrail turning hard east, along the border of the Range. Now, without as much drag, the weapons picked up speed quickly until the echo of a sonic boom rippled back to the flyers.

A burst of sound crackled in Cain's ear as Lou's voice spoke from his helmet's speaker. "Nice separation."

Cain glanced over his left shoulder at the other craft. "Not as nice as earlier," he said, letting the smirk carry over through his voice.

Lou cleared his throat. "Even though we are communicating on a microwatt, burst carrier wave that is double encrypted with a custom algorithm I just built prior to take-off ..."

"Yeah, yeah. A simple 'Shut the fuck up, Cain.' would have worked. No chance that the HLF will overhear this, will they?"

"The signal is so weak, that after about three hundred yards, it fades into the background static. Even within range, it just sounds like a louder static burst to the naked ear."

"Nice. So, explain to me, how did this group escape notice long enough to build this base?"

"They actually bought it through a domestic front corporation during a series of military cutbacks. In an attempt to generate some quick cash, this particular chunk of land was sold. It was all very quiet and rather cheap, considering the amount of equipment that was left behind. We are still investigating to see if there was any inside shenanigans regarding this sale, but for now, we are unable to find any direct ties."

"Humph. From the plans, it looks like an old fallout shelter."

"Yes. It is. Hardened, shielded against EMP, and very difficult to get into. Unfortunately, due to the shielding, it means you will be flying blind until the bug is installed and I can set up a masking routine on their radio detection."

Cain grunted in reply, steadying the craft in a small updraft.

"Visual on target. ETA five minutes. Come about to heading zero, three, five degrees. Remember to nose-up hard after clearing the mesa rim and engage the chute, otherwise you will get a face full of sandstone at high speed. There's a switch at your left ear. As much as I hate to say it, engage radio silence."

"Course correction, zero three five, acknowledged," Cain spoke back automatically. "Target visual confirmed. Engaging radio silence." He reached up and found the toggle, snapping it to 'Off' with a click.

Whisper quiet, the gliders skimmed over the rocky tops of windblown desert formations. Though the craft had been bleeding off speed ever since booster separation, Cain estimated ground speed still well above 150 miles per hour. He spent the remaining moments reviewing the installation floor plans, estimating troop movements, likely quarters, weapons caches, and security details. He reviewed likely escape routes, both with and without the scientist and sighed. "This ain't gonna be no picnic," he thought, focusing on the rapidly approaching mesa wall. He pushed on the horizontal bar, swinging his weight back and the glider began to climb.

Lou followed suit, reviewing the mission data in his own way as his glider cleared the lip. Then, throwing his weight back, he yanked the rip cord, sending two hundred square feet of nylon billowing out behind. Moments later the glider was wrenched back to level flight as its speed dropped exponentially. Wheels touched down on the rugged flattop and the craft bumped to a stop.

Quickly both unhooked, examined their transports and then anchored them down. After a quick inspection, the agents removed supplies and hurried toward a nondescript pile of rocks. As they neared, the rubble took on the shape of a cleverly camouflaged air vent.

"Phugh!" Cain exclaimed with a wrinkled nose and slightly whited eyes as they neared the vent. "Oh my God, what the fuck?"

"B-B-Q. Or at least I think that is what the humans call it. Remember, this is the main exhaust vent and it must be near feeding time. Though as to how anything can survive exclusively on cooked meat ... ugh."

"You fuckers owe me big for this," he grumbled, setting a wrench to the bolts..

Lou laughed. "I'm sure that the smell of burning yard-bird is even more offensive to you leaf-eaters."

"You have no idea. I've rimmed skunks that smell better."

The vent-hood came off in short order, revealing a gaping, metal-lined shaft into the rock. Wordlessly, the equine drove three long stakes into the rock, weaving a thin silksteel cord around the resulting triangular formation. He tossed the rest over into the pit and it quickly vanished in the gloom, unwinding from its carry bag. Cain clipped in and wrapped the cord around his waist, shouldering a lumpy sack.

Lou placed a hand on Cain's chest. "Three hundred feet down is the horizontal shaft that will lead you to the main data storage. Remember to place the antennae no more than fifty feet apart, otherwise the bug will not be able to send a signal back up here. And, hon ... be careful," Lou said while leaning in for a kiss.

Tenderly, Cain wrapped his hands around the tiger; one hand rising to his striped head, the other squeezing his rump. "Heh. You know me," he said, breaking the kiss, then stepped over the edge, rappelling down into the dark hole.