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Wylde Fyre

Chapter Six

By Stephen Doyle

August 24th 2017 Avalon Foundation Facility Lajes Air Force Base Terceira Island, Azores 11:30 hours

Sean had spent the hours after his morning PT and ablutions reviewing everything on the personal computer that had been delivered to his door at eight 'o'clock on the dot, along with his personal ID card - which also contained all the access permissions for the computer, in a fascinating twist. He'd spent hours reviewing the security procedures, base layout, aircraft procedures, command structures, documents about the organisation and its aims and goals, personnel information, and enough other things to make his head spin. And he still hadn't found out everything that was going on here, or why. There was so, so much more that he didn't know about, lurking just under the surface. It was almost like knowing you had a surprise party being planned for your birthday; you know it's being planned, you know it's going to happen, but you have no idea what's going to be involved, or when it's about to be sprung on you - but you know you're going to enjoy it, and it's going to be fun. However, he'd reached his limit on reading from the screen. His reduced vision was still giving him trouble, with his remaining right eye having to do more work. Focusing to read on the screen was giving him eye strain and headaches - which meant it was time to knock it off for a while. He was expecting a call from Rebecca, or one of the others, but nothing had happened so far. He hadn't had a place to report to, or a time set for a meeting. So, there was very little to do. But, his house needed a lot of things. Like furniture. And food. His stomach grumbled loudly as he remembered that second one, and he winced. Maybe he ought to look into some of those things. He fiddled with the computer a little more, browsing through the bases intranet to find information on where to eat, and living on the base, and after a few minutes came up a winner with a page on the local area, and base facilities. He closed the lid of the mini-laptop, and headed for the door, pockets loaded with the normal drabble of everyday life, as well as the secure phone he'd been given. A short walk got him to the motor pool. A flash of his ID and a carefully worded conversation netted him an open-topped, utility-bedded hummer pickup, which would do very well indeed to take care of his errands. He belted into the vehicle and revved its' engine, giving a slight smile of pleasure as the engine grumbled into life. A brief adjustment of the mirrors was needed - he wasn't quite used to driving with reduced vision, yet; in truth this was the first time he'd be doing so... but no-one had produced any papers telling him not to, or decertified him from anything other than flying, for the meantime. So he intended to take full advantage of that loophole while he could. Although, not at anyone else's risk, if he could help it. The fox drummed his fingertips on the top of the hummer's gigantic steering wheel for a few moments, waiting for the motor pool parking lot to clear before putting the vehicle into gear. A cargo truck grumbled out of the parking lot, and things were clear. Sean put the vehicle into gear, and - carefully - rolled out of the lot. He moved the vehicle slowly, navigating around the other vehicles and obstacles, and letting out a tense sigh as he reached the open road. Once clear of the vehicles, he gained a little confidence, picking up speed as he had more space. He checked mirrors and the road ahead almost frantically, worrying about his sight with every foot of road. Quickly, he realised the danger - the more worried he got, the more he overcorrected his driving, and the more frantic his actions became. Taking a breath, and steeling his nerves, he arched his back, flexed his shoulders and fixed his vision ahead, limiting himself to checking the mirrors in a regular sweep, and mostly keeping his eye on the road. After that, things got easier. He had a few close encounters with traffic approaching from the 'blind spot' on his left; which reminded him to check his left side more often, and approach any junctions much, much slower than he would've before. He still felt like his nerves had been scraped over with barbed wire, but all the same: he was driving again, which was exciting enough. He wove his way out of the base, snaking around the wide roads of the facility, managing to get a peek at the aircraft apron on the way, although there was nothing worth seeing waiting around. Making it through, and past, the gates he was on the open road, and after fifteen minutes down the highway, he was into the city of Lajes. As always, he found the experience of being in a foreign city interesting. All of the advertisements were different, even if for familiar products or brands. The language, sounds, signs, and smells were all different, and that only added to fascinating nature of being somewhere else. The place wasn't a hive of activity, but neither was it dead. He already knew that Lajes was the capital of the Azores, and as such all manner of major business was conducted there. But even so, the Azores themselves were hardly a densely inhabited area. There were probably as many people spread across the islands as the total population of Atlanta, the capital of his home state, Georgia. Eventually, he spotted what he was looking for; a supermarket, and department stores he could gather what he'd needed for his new home - that still surprised him - to make it a home, and not a house. He parked up the Hummer, trusting that no one would steal the open-topped vehicle. After all, it was decked out in US Air Force insignia and stencils, which implied a heavy punishment if anybody decided to try and take the vehicle.

As the fox walked the streets of the city, he felt the heat of the mid-morning sun.This close to the equator and in the near-tropical climate on the islands, the heat wasn't humid and oppressive, sapping of your energy like it could be back in his home state. Instead, the heat bore down almost relentlessly, and was a constant weight. For him, clad in BDU pants and a lightweight T-shirt, it was still pretty heavy. He wished he'd bought a hat with him, on reflection, if only to keep the bright sunshine out of his remaining eye. The grocery store was air-conditioned heaven, after the beating heat of the streets though, and he took time selecting his goods. He stocked up on everything, and more besides. Why not splash out? He thought to himself. After all, he had a much bigger pay check than his time in the 'rank and file' USAF, and he intended to make use of it. Not to mention he'd accrued back-pay for the time spent in Hospital, and a fair amount of 'hazard pay' for his time flying in Tajikistan on deployment. Wheels in his mind turned as he shopped, and the decision came to organize a party. They hadn't had one the evening of his arrival, and he wanted to get to know his new comrades, and get back together with his old ones. Not to mention there was a house to warm, and he'd seen a brick-built barbecue in his back garden. There was only so much of the USA that he could leave behind. He managed to overfill a shopping cart with the amount of stuff he'd bought, and the staff members of the store were enthusiastic in helping him manhandle all of it back to the Hummer, and to help him load it as well, which he was grateful for. He tipped the guy who'd helped him, hoping it was a decent cut, before moving the truck closer to the department store, and enticing a parking attendant to watch over his purchases while he went inside to outfit his new home. The temptation to splash out again was hard to resist, and by the end of it, he was sure that his account card was about to melt into molten plastic. But it was worth it to walk away with a new sofa, bedding (the night was warm, but not quite warm enough for no sheets), curtains for the various rooms, a couple of chairs, kitchen utensils, a bedside lamp and an alarm clock, and, in the most indulgent expense, a widescreen plasma TV and a kick-ass sound system. He just managed to restrain himself from splashing out on a new XBOX though, eyeing it for another time. Unwilling and unable to cart all of that in the hummer, he settled for taking the smaller goods, and then signed to have the rest delivered, before returning to the vehicle; which he was pleased to see hadn't been ransacked. Feeling accomplished, he climbed into the drivers seat, and was about to start the engine when he phone rang with a personalised tone he'd set for any calls coming from 'command'. Giving a resigned smile, he plucked the phone out of the pocket of his fatigues, he tapped the screen and waited for the string of beeps to sound, confirming the call was scrambled. "Blade here, go ahead," he answered, leaning back in the drivers seat of the Hummer, and putting one hand loosely on the steering wheel - and quickly drawing it back. It had gotten very, very hot under the sun. "Major," said Rebecca's voice on the other end of the line. A note of frustration was in her tone as she spoke. "Where the hell are you, sir? I went to your house to find you, and you weren't there. Next thing I heard, you'd checked out a Hummer from the motor pool, and disappeared off base. And you didn't file that with anyone, sir, which put a hell of a fright up the staff, and ballsed up all my plans for the day". He stifled an amused smile. It wasn't that he got any particular thrill out of annoying the brass; but this time at least he couldn't find it anything other than funny. He'd had nothing to do, and been told to do nothing. But somehow, he'd buggered up someone else's plans by doing so, which made something inside him amused "Sorry, ma'am," he said, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. "I wasn't supplied with any orders or a duty roster, so I decided to make the most of my time. And I made sure I was available when needed". There was a huffing growl on the other end of the phone, and Sean's smile twitched over his muzzle again, his tail thumping lightly against the seat back in amusement at Rebecca's ire. "Well, Major, I suppose that's understandable, given the circumstances and all, but in future you should report your movements more... thoroughly. Especially given the enemy we're up against. But for now, I'll let it slide if you get your tail back on the base and to the Ops building double-quick. And keep the hummer; you can pick me and the others up at HQ, and then take us to the apron". "The apron?" He asked, curious now. "What are we flying, and where are we going?" "Wait and see, Major. Get back on base, get whatever you need to get from home, and then meet me and the rest of your squadron at the front of the Ops building, soonest". "Uh, Yes ma'am. I'll be there shortly". "Excellent. Oh, and Major? While you haven't crashed the vehicle and killed anyone after your decision to try your hand at driving, the word from above is to wait until you've undergone the treatments we've got lined up for you before you decide to do the same with the aircraft" Sean mumbled an apologetic 'yes ma'am' into the phone, and then groaned as the line went dead. Stuffing the phone back into a pocket, he gunned the Hummers' engine and swung back onto the road, heading for the base, keeping under the speed limit, but pushing it as he went. It'd be funny at the time, but now it seemed a bit less amusing that he'd made her angry, and screwed up whatever the duties for the day were. Especially as he was the FNG in the group, rather than the old hand as he had been before. He gave a grumbling sigh, and twisted his hands on the steering wheel as he held the Hummer on the straight stretch of highway. Maybe he could make it up to her by inviting her to the party.

That Same Time Omidiyeh Air Base Khuzestan Province Islamic Republic of Iran 15:30 hours (+4 hours time difference)

General Tufayli looked at the man stood next to him with an undisguised look of irritation and displeasure. Despite the equipment and services he and his superiors had provided to the Republics armed forces so far, he couldn't help but feel a level of loathing for the man and what he represented. He was a westerner, as much was obvious from his superior attitude towards the men under Tufayli's command, and to the leaders of his country and its forces. He showed only token respect, almost an afterthought, to the Shahs and Mullahs, and the disdain he had for the holy men was obvious in his face and his body language. Had he not been as important as he was to the prosperity and success of the country and the efforts against their former allies, then Tufayli would have had him locked away in a cell by the Pasdaran Guard to give him a strict and strong course in respect and humility for the customs of others. Not to mention, his arrogance could do with a great deal of adjustment. But for the moment, he could ignore all of this, as the uncouth braggart had come through with the promises he had offered to the leadership of greater, more powerful weapons that would modernise the armed forces and allow them to stand against the forces arrayed against them, and unite the Arab peoples of the Middle East against the Jews, and their allies in the United States and across the world. His thoughts were derailed as the air was filled with a rumbling, thundering roar. It reverberated in his chest, and shook the ground itself, as a spread of dots on the horizon grew larger with every passing moment. The five dots resolved into large aircraft, each with a low, swing-wing, a single tall tailfin, and a boxy, long-nosed body, with wedge-shaped intakes on either side. The five aircraft grew larger still as they got closer, their true huge size becoming apparent as they reached the outskirts of the base, and overflew the runway itself, their huge engines shaking the ground itself with their passage. As the five bombers passed overhead, he couldn't help but feel an ecstatic smile creep onto his muzzle, his ears pricking in pleasure. The TU-22M Backfire Bombers flew on, and turned in a long, gentle arc, changing position into a long line, preparing to land on the long runway at the base. Turning to the Coyote next to him, he nodded slowly. "So, Mister Chessman, you have come through with the aircraft you promised, and the crews to fly and operate them. In addition, you have come through with the weapons to equip them as well. You have the payments and agreements from our government to support and favour your businesses in our reconstruction efforts throughout the Middle East and Asia. What more do you require from us?" "Nothing at all, General," said the Coyote, shaking his head with a slight smile. "Only that you use your aircraft as we have briefed and trained, rather than overstretching or over-reaching your abilities. Otherwise, you will quickly find that as much as we can be a worthy, valuable and helpful ally, we can also be a dangerous, vicious, and resourceful enemy". "Was that a threat?" growled the Civet, balling his fists and flattening his ears. "I would say it was most unwise to threaten me in the middle of my own base, Mr Chessman, whether you have delivered out aircraft or not". The coyote shook his head, the irritating smirk still fixed in place. "Of course it isn't," he answered. "I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing. I do counsel one thing though, General. There are international rumours about the development of nuclear weapons in your country, especially given the hostility your government projects when questioned about its nuclear power plants". The general bristled visibly, his teeth bared, ears flattened back and eyes virtually bulging out of their sockets. Chessman's smirk had vanished now, and in its place was a steady, intense look as he spoke. "My organization has far, far better knowledge than the governments you're used to dealing with. We know the status of your countries' nuclear program, and the fruit it has borne so far. And I must recommend, with all sincerity, General, that you do not consider using those weapons against China. While we have provided you with long-range bombers, capable of striking the Chinese in their own territory, to do so with nuclear ordnance would result in a devastating counterattack. Use your weapons wisely, and as we counsel and your visions of a united Arab nation, and a unified Islamic superpower - will be a reality". Tufayli was unnerved by this Americans words. He, and his infuriatingly mysterious employers, obviously knew far, far too much about the long-term goals of his people. It was unacceptable, even, how much they knew, and the sheer level of conniving interference they were showing, and the thought that they could guide, or presume to direct the forces of his country made his fur crawl. But at the same time, what he said was an alluring proposition. United the Middle East under the leadership of Iran, and guiding them in the teachings and laws of Islam to become a state to rival the corrupt and misguided peoples of the west and east was a glorious vision. And if this was the first steps in doing so, then so much the better for it; even if it meant he had to put up with this smug, self-aggrandizing dog for the moment. "Very well," Tufayli grated through clenched teeth. "I shall heed your words for now sir, and the wisdom behind them. We will restrain from using any weapons we may or may not have on the Chinese, and instead limit ourselves in the employment on these weapons to bring about an end to the war", he grimaced briefly and swallowed any other comments he might have had brewing before he continued speaking. "I hope that we can continue to have an... amicable... relationship in the future, Mr Chessman, and any further agreements between yourself and my country will be conducted with such expedience as this one". "Quite," replied the Coyote, shaking hands with the Civet and smiling warmly. "The staff we have trained and loaned to you will continue to assist your crews in maintenance and operation of the Backfire bombers. I'm sure that your people will have little trouble in their operation and employment. For the meantime, I must take my leave of you, as I'm sure you have plans to build." The Civet nodded rapidly as the Coyote excused himself, Chessman moving away from the podium set up for the arrival of the bomber aircraft at the base, and their acceptance into service. He didn't much care to stay and see how things progressed; after all, he had done his part in arranging the delivery of the aircraft to the Iranians after their back-channel purchase from the Russian government. Previously, the Backfires had been rusting away on an airfield in central Russia, with no decided fate for them from the government. Like so many aircraft in the possession of the Russian Government, they were a relic of the huge militarisation of the Cold War which had ended more than twenty years earlier. The end of that political conflict had left little money for the maintenance and operation of the vast fleets of aircraft, and less still for the training and even paying of their crews. Even disposing of them by demolition or scrapping cost money that the state didn't have. As such, large numbers of aircraft of all kinds had been left in place in their bases, exposed to the elements for disposal by the relentless hand of time and nature. When the White Bishops had approached the Russian government with plans to convert many of the existing airbases left in the interior into privately operated airfields for supply of the various towns and cities in the interior, they had also provided a cover for the Black Bishops and Rooks to make offers to carefully scouted and chosen members of the parliament and military for sale of the aircraft, in exchange for carefully concealed financial transactions, intelligence reports, and technology transfers. In effect, they had aided the modernisation and revitalisation of the Russian military and the country as a whole, in order to further their own plans and designs, gaining the aircraft for later sale and transfer to various powers and groups around the world, and for their own purposes where needed. Like the bombers they had procured for their own use, under Black Knights' orders. Bombers that would very shortly be used to take action against the organization that seemed to be unravelling the secrets of their organization, deeply woven as they were into the fabric of the world stage. But not before they set their own plans into motion. Rook showed his ID to a guard outside a small building, who let him inside - not standing to attention as he did so, he noticed with a slight smile - and then locked the door behind him. Inside, the coyote signed for his turned-in survival equipment and flight suit, quickly dressing in the gear, and packing his civilian clothes into a small bag. He let himself through another door, emerging back out onto a parking area, where a UAZ-469 utility vehicle waited for him. In the driving seat was his aide, A female mink he knew only as 'Miss Knight'. She was cold, calm, and always watchful. He hadn't given her an order yet that she had refused to follow, and she'd once said that she was there to obey all of his orders. She was strikingly beautiful, in an icy kind of way. Despite being a Mink, normally somewhat short and stocky as a people, she still had very long and elegant features that were mirrored by her graceful dancing movements. Her eyes were a cold, watery blue, and her fur a dark sheen of black, with her short, stylish hair a natural silvery grey. He wasn't sure of her age, but she couldn't have been older than her mid-thirties, with the athletic, lithe beauty of her body. Beyond what he could see of the woman, all he knew about her was her deadly skill with a large number of weapons. She could wield a variety of firearms and heavy weapons with consummate skill, as she had demonstrated on a variety of occasions. She was also expertly skilled in hand-to-hand combat in a variety of styles, in which she had instructed him - some of which, had been a pleasurably experience, to have had his body intertwined with her own, getting hotter, closer, and more ragged as they did. Although she had shown little-to-no actual interest in him, but neither had she spurned his advances or actions. Additionally, she was also a skilful pilot and weapon systems operator, which was yet another level of her amazing array of skills, which stretched even into more civil areas - she also had great skill as an administrator and secretary, communications operator, and business. In short, he'd be lost without her, and he trusted her skills and capabilities intimately. He wouldn't have her more than five feet from him at any time - and any time she was not at his side; he knew that she was watching him for any signs of danger or threats to his person. "Everything went well," he remarked to her as he climbed into the passenger seat of the UAZ. She nodded silently in reply, setting the four-wheel-drive into motion, and guiding it out onto the roads of the base, and away from the building. He glanced at her, and wasn't surprised to find her eyes fixed on the road ahead, occasionally glancing between the mirrors. He leaned back into the seat, shifting slightly and into the silence that extended between them. "What is our next move?" she asked suddenly, surprising him by breaking the silence. He looked at her with a slight surprise on his face, before recovering his composure and answering the question. "We meet up with Knight Senior in the West Pacific, and await the outcome of his plans, and to oversee the launch procedures for the Damocles System. White King will activate the system shortly after that, and we'll be free to move against our... interlopers... as we have planned". "I look forward to removing the thorn in our side," she said in a calm tone, only a hint of an Eastern European accent coming through in her words. "The plan must be allowed to succeed. Without it, there is nothing". He didn't answer, as he didn't see a need to. Her words rang true enough. The plan was all they had worked towards. The long-term strategy, stretching over years of manipulations, negotiations and carefully calculated strategies, designed to produce a global environment where the balance had been upset, and long-term strategies were a confused, unclear mess of moral and political complexities. The situation left was open for the Organization to assume control. The foundations had been laid in place, and the time was, slowly but surely, getting closer. It was a thrill to envision it, and one too easy to get lost in, or impatient for. But if the Black King could wait for Thule to rise again, then he could do the same. After all, it was a certainty, encoded in the very chemical makeup of his being, rather than one reliant on any plans or strategies. In short - it was inevitable. The thought left the confident smirk on his face once more, as Miss Knight pulled the UAZ up alongside an aircraft shelter at the far end of the base. She switched off the engine, and turned the keys for the vehicle over to one of the Pawns managing the shelter, and the aircraft inside it. She was already dressed in her flight gear as was he, and they both recovered their helmets from inside the vehicle. Together, they passed the security checks, and performed a walk-around of their aircraft, which lurked in the hangar. Low to the ground, pointy-nosed and with a sleek triangular wing behind a smaller triangular canard surface, their aircraft were both painted in a digital camouflage pattern, in a mix of dark, dull black, and silvery-grey; the same colouration as Miss Knight herself, Chessman noted. And also like the Mink, the airplanes were pleasant to the eye, but deadly if involved in a fight. The surprisingly small Saab Gripen was a deadly aircraft, capable of engaging in air-to-air combat, or air-to-ground attacks with no modifications beyond the load of it's weapons, which were plentiful in variety. It was agile and powerful, and had been made more so by the addition of a fly-by-light control system, and a thrust-vectored engine. Additionally, the helmet mounted sights had been upgraded beyond even that level of capability with the inclusion of technology available only to the Thule Societies' members from their recovered sites. As he considered this, his gloved fingers rubbed at the back of his neck, and the hard bumps of his interface implants under the skin, the regular lines of the metallic device under his skin standing out as a ridge in his fur. He knew, from his fingers running through her silky fur, that Miss Knight had the same device, and that all of the Knights also shared them. It was one of the many edges they possessed. "Everything is sufficient," the mink said, with a measured nod. "We are ready to board our aircraft". "Excellent," he replied, turning to his Gripen, and climbing the retractable ladder to the cockpit. She did the same, and as soon as the whine of the aircrafts' starter carts began, they ran through their checklists, taking care of every item in order as briefed, before reaching the final few. Strapped in, and with helmets on, the final items were to start the General Electric F414 engine, which came to life with a whining roar, which cut off as the canopy smoothly came down and locked into place. With Chessman in the lead, the pair of aircraft began to roll smoothly from the hardened shelter, and, following the clearance and instructions from the tower, headed for the bases' runway. They held at the end of the runway as a transport aircraft lurched into the air and headed for the frontlines, before the pair received clearance for launch. Chessman released his brakes, and increased the throttle to full military power, the airframe reverberating with the thunderous power of the engine in back. He felt pressed back into his seat as the Gripen accelerated down the long runway, gaining speed quickly. With his implants, he could feel the moment when the flight computers built into the aircraft registered the speed, and it was only a gently twitch of his hand to tip the side-mounted joystick back, and pull the nose of the jet skyward, and the rest of the plane followed it smoothly into the air, the flight instruments feeding him information in a constant whisper into his mind. Carefully framed commands in his mind instructed the undercarriage to retract into its' bays, and the plane was cleaned up for flight. He didn't need to check to know that Miss Knight was right behind him, formed up on his left wingtip, shadowing his movements. Together, the two aircraft moved into a slow bank as they reached cruising altitude, increasing speed until they reached the optimum balance of speed, altitude and fuel consumption. Miles slipped away beneath their wings, as they flew south, heading for the Arabian Sea, and the Indian Ocean, where they'd rendezvous with a tanker aircraft, before continuing to a secure facility under Thule control in Indonesia.

August 24th 2017 Avalon Foundation Facility Lajes Air Force Base Terceira Island, Azores 12:30 hours

Sean hadn't expected this when Rebecca had said to meet him at the apron. He'd expected them to be flying somewhere for sure; after all, they were reporting to an airfield, and all of them, more or less, were pilots or aircrew. But even if they were going somewhere, he'd expected something common-or-garden, and run of the mill. Like a Gulfstream business jet, a Lear jet, or even a Beech King Air. Maybe even something more daring or obscure if it had been a transport, such as a Caribou, or a Dornier Do-228. Something common, and turboprop powered. What he hadn't expected was an iconic aircraft of World War 2, gleaming in the sun in a splendid blue-on-white paint scheme, looking almost factory fresh. With it's high wing, and boat-bottomed fuselage, the PBY-5A Catalina wasn't a plane that would really win many beauty contests, but it was an aircraft that had served in the second world war with great distinction, saving the lives of many airmen shot down over the seas, supplying troops in cut-off areas, and even after the war, operating as an airliner and utility aircraft as well as an aerial fire-fighter. He'd always wanted to climb aboard one and fly, ever since his grandpa had related stories of them from his time in the air during the war. It had stuck in his mind, after he had seen them at various museums and air displays in his youth. And now, here was one close enough to touch, and that he was going to actually get to fly in. "Having a blue-screen moment?" asked Nina lightly, elbowing him in the ribs. "We were beginning to think your brain had overloaded". "Almost," he replied, pulling himself back to the moment, and looking back to the hyena, his thick bushy tail waving slowly as he did so. "Getting on one of these has been a long held dream of mine. My grandpa used to fly 'em in World War Two. He had plenty of stories about them". "You'll have to tell me at this part of yours," she said, smiling and touching his arm. "I can't wait for that, by the way. It'll be good. As for the plane, maybe you'll get a chance to fly it yourself" "We'll see what we can do," remarked Rebecca, stepping up alongside them both, and gently ushering them towards the set of the rear stairs on the plane. "I'm sure there's something that can be done". "I'm still interested in where we're going," remarked the fox, ducking his head as he climbed aboard. "Especially now that there's an amphibious plane involved". "Aw, come on Blade," remarked Max, tipping a bottle of coke his way in greeting. "Don't you like surprises?" Sean grinned and waved to both him and Taia, the pair of them lounging in the couch-style seats that had been installed in place of the machine guns that used to occupy the glass 'blisters' at the planes' wasp-like waist section. Red was also strapped into one of the comfy-looking chairs that had been installed in place of the wartime fittings. "I'm not fond of surprises after the last time we got one," he replied. "It wasn't exactly the best one we've had". "It definitely will not be anything like that," answered Rebecca immediately. "No, you should like this. All of the others have, or else they wouldn't be here. Believe me, it's nothing bad". "I'll take your word for it," he replied, after feeling Nina briefly squeeze his hand for reassurance. She strapped herself into one of the other spare seats, and the fox looked around, planning to strap himself into one of the seats opposite Nina, before Rebecca called back from the cockpit. "Ah come on," she said in a loud voice, calling back long the planes' gangway. "After all that talk about flying this bird, you're not gonna come up here and sit in the front?" He hesitated, and Nina raised an eyebrow at him. Shrugging, he moved forward, ducking through the narrow door in the bulkhead and sliding into the unoccupied seat. Ahead of him, the controls were far different to those of the F-15's he was used to, and even the training aircraft he'd learned his skills as a fighter pilot in, the T-38 Talon. In fact, there were even worlds removed from the only other prop-driven plane he'd flown, the T-6A Texan II in his basic flight training. The T-6A had been modern inside, with big multifunction displays, and a few dials and tape instruments alongside for the sake of redundancy; which almost made it more modern than the 1980's-era Strike Eagle, and the even earlier designed T-38. But the Catalina was a very different beast, from an earlier era. There were no CRT screens, no electronic push-buttons and no rocker switches. Although the panel had been modernised with an up-to-date radio, a civilian transponder, and a GPS, everything else was as originally built, more or less. Dials filled the arc of the dashboard, old clock-face style ones - including a clock- and were sharing space with old style manual levers above his head, and between the seats. The pedals and even the control yokes felt old-school. And somehow, that only made the airplane better. With a keen smile, he pulled the belts over his shoulders, and fastened the lap belt, before accepting a headset from Rebecca. A quick cross-check with the tower from her, and a thumbs-up from a ground-crew member outside confirmed that the plane looked good. She thumbed the starters, and the engines began to cough and splutter, puffing a belch of sooty smoke, before the props caught and began to spin, whirling into life with a climbing rumble. The big twin piston engines built up power with a grumble of protest, the dials and indicators on the dash showing the plane as nothing but healthy and eager to fly. Sean shifted in his seat, eager to see the plane lift into the air. Rebecca gave him a sidelong glance with a smile, her tail wagging, before she cleared them off with the tower for taxiing to the runway. The rough collie fed in power to the twin engines, and the plane moved forward, rolling along under its' own power, heading across the tarmac apron past the sparse aircraft parked there. The planes he'd seen earlier had moved on, or parked away. But a new arrival had come in the shape of a KC-135 tanker aircraft from the USAF, along with an attendant flock of F-16's from the USA, bound for the frontlines. The Catalina moved past them, many of the pilots stopping their business briefly to watch the unusual sight as the vintage aircraft rolled past. Sean couldn't help but offer them a wave, which many of the men and women returned. Rebecca guided the plane through a turn onto the taxiway, patiently guiding the plane along the paved surface to the runways' hammerhead waiting area. Opposite the amphibious plane, a short-range airliner rolled into position on the runway, before spinning its' props up to full speed and power, launching down the runway to climb into the air, off to deliver more people to the local islands. Then it was their turn, and Rebecca moved the 'Cat onto the end of the runway, lining up on the centreline. Last words of confirmation were exchanged with the tower, and she fed in the power to the rapidly spinning props. The engines rumble grew into a powerful roar, and they both watched the revs climb. As the moment came, she toed off the brakes, and the amphibian sped forward, galloping down the runway. He had to resist the natural urge to put his hands on the yoke in front of him, which trembled and jumped, moving in a combination of the collies' steadying and the planes natural desire to move around. Finally, as the airspeed indicator clicked over, she smoothly hauled back on the yoke, and the Catalina soared into the sky, the rumble of ground under the wheels falling away, and replaced with the smooth hum of the engines as they climbed. Rebecca slid the lever to control the gear, and there was a gentle rumble as the gear moved back into its' housings, and the ride became smoother still. "Nice takeoff," remarked Sean, speaking into the microphone at his chin. Rebecca grinned in reply, and nodded. As the plane climbed higher into the bright blue sky, the rough collie slipped on her trademark shades, before turning them westward. "We're staying in the islands?" he asked over the radio, having to speak loud to be heard over the engine noise. "Yeah," she replied. "We're heading to another facility that belongs to the foundation. During the later nineties, mister Pendragon, our founder, commissioned a pretty extensive survey of this area. I think he used pretty much everything he could get his hands on - ships, aircraft, helicopters; and all sorts of sensors too, magnetic resonance, seismic charges, ground-penetrating radar, yadda, yadda, yadda. Anyway, there are a few small islands around here, aside from the main ones that always get overlooked, as they aren't much use to anyone for anything. But he decided to give 'em a good look over, and he found something, after a bit of persistent looking, anyway". "Why?" asked Sean, shielding his eye from the sunlight with a wince, and trying to look across at Rebecca. "I mean, I understand that there are all sorts of reasons for geographic surveys and whatever, but I don't see how that leads to where we are now". "You pay much attention to mythology, Blade?" she asked, turning her attention back to the Catalina, and checking their position and heading, and gently adjusting the trim of the plane as she smoothly set them onto a turn westward, heading away from Terceira, and into the open water between there and Graciosa. "Not really," he replied. "I used to read some stories when I was a teenager. My sister and I got interested in all of that stuff when we were growing up. We always wanted to uncover a mystery, or find some kind of relic or something. I dunno what we expected to find, but it was one of those phases. I never really paid much attention to it after that though. Why'd you ask? Did Mr. Pendragon find the Lost City of Atlantis down there or something?" Rebecca paused, her muzzle half-open, and then she burst out laughing, almost bending double with the laughter, and shaking her head. Sean looked confused, one ear flattening to his head, and an eyebrow raised as he eyed the collie, who managed to gather herself together, a huge grin staying firmly fixed on her muzzle. He stretched around to look back through the hatch, and saw Nina had come forward to see what the laughter was about. "What's going on?" she yelled over the sound of the aircraft in flight, and Rebecca shook her head. "I'll tell you later," she yelled back "but Sean's a goddamn honest-to-god psychic!" Nina shook her head and shrugged at the fox, before heading back. He shrugged in reply, and looked to Rebecca, who nodded, holding the boom of the mike as she spoke cross-cockpit to him. "You want to have a go at flying this monster?" she said, and gestured to the controls. He nodded rapidly, and she grinned, her ears twitching in amusement. "Okay," she continued. "Put your hands on the yoke, and get ready. She's a lot less responsive than the jets you're used to. It's less fly-by-wire, and more filing a request to make a move in this thing. All mechanical flight controls, okay?" "Right!" he answered, nodding firmly. "I understand. I'll take control when you're ready, you keep me on course". "Roger," she said, and took her hands off the controls, leaving Sean in control of the plane. He gently shook the yoke to confirm he had controls, while speaking out loud; "I have control of the aircraft". She nodded in reply, as Sean kept his hands on the yoke. The plane was steady, and didn't fight him too much as he kept her straight and level. He could feel some flutter through the pedals and the yoke, which put a slight smile on his muzzle. Feeling the plane feed back to him like this was a very different form of flight than the smooth, refined, F-15. "Take us into a turn," she instructed. "Ten degrees of bank put us on a south-south-west heading. You ought to be able to see our heading after that". "Right," he said briskly, and carefully pressed his booted foot against the rudder pedal, and gently inclined the yoke, carefully letting the left wing drop and keeping his eye on the artificial horizon and the compass as the planes' blunt nose swung around smoothly. He felt a warm curl of pleasure as he completed the movement and lined the plane back up on the heading, and the artificial horizon indicator centred itself again. A tiny island, little more than a green blob on the canvas of shimmering blue had appeared on the nose. "There's our destination," she called out over the radio, pointing with one long finger towards the island, which was growing closer. He could see that the small landmass was mostly a large hill, swathed in vegetation. A small cluster of buildings were located by the coastline nearest to them, and a large ship attached to a jetty. Then his eye started to hurt again, and his vision blurring with strain. "I'd better take over again," she said, with a slight note of concern in her voice. "Gotta take us in for a landing on the ocean; and good as you were with this bird, I don't think you're quite ready for that yet". "Not yet," he replied, letting go of the yoke as the rough collie put her hands back on the yoke, shaking the controls again, and affirming her control verbally again. Giving an exasperated sigh, he leaned back in the chair, and looked sullenly at the island ahead, hoping that whatever was there would ease the frustration he felt at the failings of his vision. Rebecca paused in prepping the Catalina for its' landing, and looked over at him, speaking into the headset. "Sean... I promise - as soon as we're finished here, and back to Lajes - I'll take you right to the medical facility, and we'll get your treatment started. Whether you want to carry on working with us or not, I'll make sure it happens". "If you can make this better," he said in a bitter tone, "then I'm staying. If it gives me the ability to fly again, then that's all I need. And I'll owe it to Avalon, too"

Rebecca fell quiet after that, leaving Sean to his own dark thoughts. However, as the Catalina lost altitude and assumed an attitude for landing, he perked up. Rebecca slid more controls, and Sean watched in interest as the floats at the end of the wings slid down from their retracted position at the wingtips to their 'down' position under the wings. The approach was much more flat than a normal landing, and the boat-like bottom of the hull made contact with the waves in a splashing, rushing sound. The flying boat juddered and shook as the first contact was made, before stabilising as the 'step' in the hull sunk further and provided more stability as Rebecca eased off power on the engines, throttling back until the plane sank further into the water, the wingtip floats making contact with the waters' surface and stabilising the craft further. Now, the Catalina moved as a boat, steering through the water, and heading for the jetty that thrust out from the shoreline. With gentle, careful motions, she guided the Catalina to the dock, moving the plane so that the main body was on one side of the narrow pontoon, and the wingtip arced over the main walkway, nestling the amphibian close to the structure. A brief blast of reverse engines bought them to a halt, and she shut down the props, allowing the personnel on the wooden jetty to dart in and tie up the plane to the shore. "Exciting enough for you?" She commented to the fox, glancing across at him, as he began to undo his lap belt and harness. "Definitely a new one for me," he replied with a small smile. "First time landing in a sea plane, and a good landing it was, too. You've got a knack for this!" "It all comes from good practice, Blade. Maybe you can have a few more tries in the Catalina once we've had a look at your eye". "Maybe," he replied, the smile growing slightly, before he slid out of the seat, heading back to the hatch to the outside. Nina smiled at him, her eyes flicking over his face, and her ears drooping as she saw the doubt and sadness in his face. She hesitated, before turning away and climbing out of the open hatch. He followed after her, moving carefully through the tight confines of the opening, and setting foot on the jetty. The sea lapped at the water around the wooden legs of the jetty, slapping at the poles. The smell of the salt water was strong, and competed with the earthy smell of the exotic plants from the island looming close. He walked a few steps further down the dock, following Nina as she headed to a short ladder leading up to the main jetty. As he waited for her to climb, he looked out to the ship - if only to avoid staring up at her bottom as she climbed the ladder - and regarded it with a careful eye. It wasn't a military vessel - it had no obvious weapon mounts, and didn't feature the angles and contours common to modern military ships, designed to reflect and divert radar away from the ship. It did have a helicopter pad on the fantail at the rear, and what he presumed was a hangar; but other than that there was little unusual about the vessel. It was large, with a prominently blue hull and white boxy superstructure. The bridge was set high up on the citadel-like upper decks, and a tangled scaffold of masts, antennae, and dishes crowned the flat roof. Having never been a navy man, he knew very little about ships and ocean-going craft than what he'd learned in terms of ships as targets and threats, and through history books and museums. If he was pressed, he'd want to call the vessel some kind of cargo ship or carrier - but he felt he'd be wrong. He turned his attention away from the ship for the meantime, and mounted the ladder, taking Nina's offered hand once he reached the top, returning her warm smile, and looking out at the vessel with her. "The ship's called the S.S. Guinevere, remarked the Hyena, her hair flowing in the wind. She put one hand up to hold it out of her face. "It's a research ship, full of labs and storage spaces where the eggheads and support staff can go through all the finds they've got off of the island, as well as shipping them back to Lajes and the base there". "Finds, huh?" he said, feeling curiosity return again. "So, there's a lot of value on this island?" "That's one way of putting it," said Taia, who had climbed up beside them. "What's been found here definitely has a lot of value all right, some of it financial; but most of it? Well, the value of it in a historical and scientific sense, that's something that can't be measured..." "Wow, Mainline," he remarked with an astounded expression. "I'm impressed - you're usually the practical one. Doesn't sound like you to get all passionate". She grinned, the tip of her tail twitching. "Oh, boss. If only you knew how passionate I could be," she answered in an overly dramatic tone, miming a swoon. The vulpine rolled his eye and chuckled, as she cuffed the back of his head. Rebecca emerged at the top of the ladder, and they all turned to the collie for guidance. She matched their looks, and then gestured onward, towards a paved trail leading away from the jetty, and passing a cleared out space for a helicopter pad. The trail wound further on, leading them into the near-tropical environment under the trees. The air took on a humid edge that had them all panting in short order, and sipping at bottles of water. Thankfully the walk was short, and they soon came to a halt outside an ugly concrete structure with it's own guard post, and numerous additional buildings set around it in a another cleared area of vegetation, much of which was already trying to claw back the space. The peak Sean had seen from the planes' cockpit swept up and away behind the concrete building, which was set partly back into its' lower slopes.

Around them in the clearing, people worked at various tasks, securing pallets of - he looked again, and was taken aback. There were dozens of crates, and he had to squint hard, but he could be sure that the writing on the side of the box was labelled 'Atlantis' - crates of various shapes and sizes. Other people worked on generators and machinery, or took measurements from seismic equipment and other electronics, while others still loaded pallets onto the back of small all terrain vehicles. It wasn't a hive of activity, as there were few people around, but the people working were all focused on their tasks. He turned back to Rebecca and the group, who were waiting for him by the security checkpoint. He stepped up to them, and the guard nodded to him, checking over his details on the screen inside the checkpoint as the RFID card sent his details automatically. A bell rang three short times, and the large door began to roll back on tracks, opening onto a wide corridor with only a few doors set into its' sides, stretching back to a mesh door a hundred feet inside. "Major," said the guard. "Good to have you here. Hope you enjoy the grand tour". "Thanks," said Sean, feeling a mix of confusion and excitement. He looked to the door, and shrugged as Rebecca gestured for him to step through. He led the way through the door, the others following close behind him. He stopped in front of the door, and the others closed up around him. Rebecca paused with her RFID card in front of the card swipe slot, and looked back to the others, before fixing her eyes on Sean, sliding her sunglasses off of her muzzle, and pocketing them. "I just want to make sure, Sean, that you don't want to change your mind, because from here, there's no turning back. Once you see what's on the other side of this door, you won't be able to forget it. It will change what you think is real. And then there'll be no turning back". He almost hesitated, but everything that had lead up to this. And more than anything, he wanted to know what there was behind the door. He looked at the others, and they all met his eyes. Taia and Max nodded firmly their expression set. Red's muzzle had a slight smile on it, and he nodded as well. Finally, he looked into Nina's face. Her eyes looked back into his, and they were filled with hope and excitement. Silently, her face and her body language urged him on, her hands folding over his, and gently squeezed, before letting go. It was all he needed to be convinced. He returned a warm smile to Nina, before turning to face Rebecca. "All right," he said with a nod. "You got me, although it's not like I had much of a choice after all of this build up you've been giving me since you were lurking in my hospital room. Swipe the card, and let's go". The collie flashed him a smile, her tail wagging, and then swiped the card. A light on the card-reader flashed to green, and a buzzer sounded. The door rolled sideways, while a second rolled in the opposite direction. A breeze gusted up from below, bringing with it the smells of old metal, damp stone, and the promise of mysteries. Banks of lights flashed on down the tunnel, illuminating a mostly featureless tunnel, with a cemented smooth floor, and porous rock walls. Rebecca lead the way, the others falling into trail behind her, quiet in anticipation of Sean's reaction as they headed onward. Finally it was the fox who spoke up as the left the door behind. "Shouldn't you have offered me a red and blue pill by now?" he said to the collie, as they drew to a halt at the top of a sheer slope with a set of tracks set into it. The others gave a round of soft laughter, Red picking up in his deep voice, which was a fair imitation of Laurence Fishbourne. "You take the red pill, you stay in wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes". Sean grinned, and then blinked in the face of a gust of strong wind from below, the tunnel howling gently with the rush of air. The sound sent a shiver up his spine. "Looks like a pretty deep rabbit hole," he murmured, glancing over the railing at the top of the slope. They stepped into the wide, empty platform, and Rebecca hit controls on a pedestal, and another buzzer sounded. Somewhere below, there was a grinding, grumbling clank, and the platform shuddered to life, moving slowly down the slope with the grinding rumble of heavy machinery. The platform moved steadily, dropping down the slope, winching itself slowly down, a counterweight moving up alongside the platform as it descended. As the car descended, Sean frowned, feeling a vibration on his chest that had nothing to do with the movement of the elevator. His hand moved up, pressing through his T-shirt, and he looked down as he realised that the others were looking at him as well, with expressions of surprise; all aside from Nina who had a knowing smile. The thin cotton of his shirt was letting through a gently blue glow from the pendant around his neck and nestled into the ruff of fur on his chest. Looping the leather thong around his fingers, he hooked the circle of metal out of his shirt, and bought it out into the air, where the glow was much brighter. Almost enough to see by, in fact, as it burned softly in the gloom, humming softly with a gentle, soothing tone. As he looked at the object, he couldn't hide the expression of wonder on his face. He looked to Nina, and saw that her pendant was doing the same - through the light cotton button-up shirt she wore, the same blue glow could be seen, and a symphonic hum that matched up with the one his was emitting. Somewhere inside him, he felt a shiver start, one of excitement, rather than fear. The tingling persisted, stretching from the end of his muzzle, to the tip of his tail, making him want to fidget and move around. It wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't comfortable either.

The funicular elevator trundled further down into the bowels of the earth, and there were a series of gasps. Sean looked up, and then gasped along with them, his eye widening. "I'm guessing that didn't happen before," he murmured softly, and Rebecca shook her head slowly, also transfixed. Around them, the walls had begun to pulse with threads of light. They ran up and down the walls, pulsing softly and running up and down the ceiling and walls, gleaming like threads of quicksilver. "That's... gorgeous," breathed Taia softly, turning on the spot, and craning her neck upward to look at the ceiling, following the flowing patterns. They almost looked like circuitry or futuristic mechanisms. The patterns of light were hypnotic as they moved and flowed, moving along with the funicular car. As it rumbled to a shaky halt at the bottom of the slope, the light patterns on the walls stayed around them, fading slightly as they stood still. Eventually, Rebecca broke the moment, leading them off of the elevator, and onto the ridged floor of the tunnel. Down here, the rock was more ridged and pitted, with more fissures and tiny holes leading away. But there were chunks of solid, dully gleaming rock interspersed with them. The others filed off of the platform and moved on, but were bought to a halt as Sean stepped off the platform and immediately let out an expletive in surprise. The others whirled around, fearing the worst; only to see that the rock around his booted feet had lit up with hexagonal patterns. Doing nothing, they simply sat there, lit up around his feet. Each was no more than two feet to an edge, and the cluster of geometric shapes wasn't bigger than six of the clustered shapes, with the edges of another 'ring' of outer ones faintly visible. Nina, who was the closest to him at the back of the group, cautiously walked back, and as she stepped within the glowing lights, her pendant flared brightly, emitting a loud chime, and the entire chamber flared in a seconds-long display of glowing hexagons, the light almost a force, stirring all of their fur and hair, before passing within seconds. A hushed silence fell over the group, and then Sean spoke up. "What... happened? What the hell was that? What the fuck is this place!" "Come... come with me," stuttered Rebecca, beckoning them onward. They all followed on, Sean shaking his head in disbelief, and looking down at his hands, and at the pendant on his chest. The glow had diminished, somewhat, but was still faintly there. "Did anything like this happen when you came down here?" he asked Nina, who had a faraway look in her eyes, her lips moving. He frowned and leaned closer to her, gently shaking her shoulder, only to rear back as she spoke out in a loud voice: "The darkness, deep under the ice, sleeping in the cold, waiting until their shadow falls over the world... and then... then..." she took a deep, gasping breath, her chest heaving, before she spluttered and she blinked rapidly, half-falling and stumbling into Sean's arms. Everyone had crowded around her, Red supporting her other arm as the two men lowered her gently to the floor of the tunnel. "What... happened?" she asked with confusion, glancing at the concerned faces. "Did I do something? Did I pass out? What's the matter... you're all freaking me out!" "You don't remember?" asked Max, the wolverine looking a mix of confused and amazed. "Christ, this place is getting weirder every minute. Blade, you always bring the party with you, don't you?" "What can I say," muttered the fox, "I like to keep things interesting". He turned his attention to Nina, looking at the hyena's face with concern. She gave him a weak smile in return, taking his hand as he offered it, and climbing back to her feet. "So what happened?" she asked him, wincing and rubbing her head. "I just remember walking alongside you, and then... well, you and Red catching hold of me as I toppled". "You looked a bit... out of it." He said, as they resumed walking slowly onward. "I was asking you if any of that stuff back there-" he poked one thumb over his shoulder "-had happened last time you all came down here. But, you went all Exorcist on me instead, and started speaking in a weird voice, and making no sense. Speaking about shadows, ice, darkness and whatever; and then you passed out". "Well, I'm not known for fainting," she replied with a frown, before smiling and giving a wink as she gently patted her rounded tummy. "This helps with that a little, I make sure to keep my... well, everything, levels up. But, if nothing like the other stuff happened before though, then I guess there might be an explanation. It's a bit like when Rebecca took out her pendant..." she trailed off and looked across at him. "Did anything weird happen when she showed you that?" He hesitated, and then remembered the strange dream he'd had, of a strange, but beautiful city. And the beautiful woman, curvy like Nina, with almost luminous big green eyes... In fact, if he looked at Nina, the Hyena looked almost exactly like the woman from the dream. Her eyes, her face, even her hair was almost the same. Even he, from what he remembered from seeing the end of the dream from the 'outside', looked the same as his dream-self. Did that make it a premonition, or something else? A warning? "I did see something," he said reluctantly, realising how crazy it would sound; but at the same time the events of the past few moments were like a bright beacon in his mind. "A dream," he said after a moment. "Of a huge city, which was really beautiful and wonderful city; bright and clean and peaceful with futuristic buildings and full of happy people. And then, out of the sky came a huge attack. I didn't see what it was that attacked, but the city was engulfed in explosions, before everything ended in a bright, white light" Nina had stopped and Sean turned back, expecting another 'blue screen' from her, but instead she had a shocked expression on her face. "Did... you have a dream where you had a woman in 'your' arms, standing on a pavement in this city. There was a big... lighted structure at the middle, tall and really impressive-" "And then the attack started, and people were scared as the city began to fall around them?" "...yeah," she answered numbly, looking him in the eye with a shocked, stunned expression. They both fell silent, confused and a little scared by the events. Quietly, they walked on, and caught up to the end of the group, who stood at the edge of another large opening in the tunnel, light coming from beyond. Sean stopped dead, his muzzle opening, as his eye roved around slowly. He tried to catch his breath, tried to take another look at what was in front of him and process it, somehow, to make it make sense. But even so, the words were hard to find, simply because he almost didn't believe what his senses were telling him.

The cavern was huge. As a pilot, he'd been trained to judge distances, and at a rough guess, the cavern must've stretched out over a good few square miles, and as high as almost three hundred feet. Which made him astounded as to how it was standing in one piece, how the ceiling was supported, and how it hadn't been discovered earlier, being such a truly enormous space. The place was lit, and even had fresh air - again, things that left him amazed. Light floated, dust-motes dancing in it, from clusters of tiny circles far, far overhead in the roof of the cavern. Around the interior, globular crystals, many of them cracked or broken, absorbed the light and shone brighter. Air also wafted in through the multitude of cracks and vents in the rock above, and blew past him softly from behind. But none of that really amazed him as much as what the cavern contained. The spires had been dulled by the ages, their lustre and shine now worn by the passage of millennia into a dull bronze. What had once been needle-thin towers and graceful arches had splintered, cracked, and fallen into jagged shapes, but the shapes still fit right into his mind. Right into the fevered dreams he'd had. His eye moved along the rubble-choked streets, the cracked and shattered boulevards, the empty-eyed windows, and ended up upon the central feature, the giant, shattered cylinder, stretching high towards the cavern of the ceiling, surrounded by soaring towers, shattered halfway or less up their height. He finally arranged his thoughts and turned to look at the others, who were all looking to him. "What..." he began, then pressed one hand to his left temple, frowning, his eye closed tight, before he shrugged and shook his head, looking at them. "Just... what?"

Atlantis. He still couldn't believe it, but once they'd walked down the slope and into the building that had been cleared, cleaned and patched up for use by the research groups, he had seen the evidence. The paintings recovered, the writing that had been translated, using the language patterns and roots from existing cultures, the comparisons between ancient architecture, the artefacts and objects from other contemporary cultures. All of it pointed to a common history and common cultural values and ideas. It was hard to find something to shake the evidence. Especially linked with the strange dreams he'd had, and the behaviour of the object around his neck. And that had been something else. Almost all the objects and artefacts arrayed around the shelves on the rooms' walls, and on the workbenches around the room were made of the same material as the pendant on his neck, and the ones on Rebecca and Nina's as well. There was so much more to tell, he knew, more than he could understand at this time. He had more questions than he could cope with, almost. Every time he could ask one, another would come up just as quick; or the answer would raise a dozen more questions. Fortunately, and somewhat bizarrely, Rebecca had answers lined up for his questions. The bizarre part was how she was intending to get them across. As the group stood in the room, he shook his head again, dumbfounded. He didn't consider himself a 'stupid jock'. Sure, he had - or at least, he used to have - some of the cocksure arrogance of a fighter pilot, but there really wasn't such a thing as a stupid fighter pilot in the first place. With all the math and physics you had to get a grip on, you didn't have much choice. Not to mention, to be a pilot, you had to be an officer. And to be an officer, you had to have at least one college major, which meant more smarts, and more learning. He also never thought he was lacking particularly in imagination or possessed of a particularly narrow mind. But to him, this was almost too much; it was only the sights he'd seen himself, and his own experiences that had peaked his natural curiosity, and the driving vulpine instinct to solve whatever puzzle was being laid out in front of him. Of course, all of that was understandable, but the block of hexagonal white crystal, enthroned on a base of the dull, beaten-gold coloured metal was something else altogether. The rough collie had assured him, without the slightest hint of irony, humoured, or sarcasm that it would answer all of his questions; all he had to do was sit in front of it, relax, and stare into its refractive depths. He took in a deep breath, looking around the room at the array of artefacts, at the unusual, yet oddly familiar, architecture, and then finally at his friends and comrades. Taia gave him a tight-lipped smile and a nod, her arms folded and tail-tip twitching. Max smiled, Red grinned, and Nina gave him and long, firm nod, her looked sideways at the crystal, jerking her head in a sideways nod. The message was pretty clear, along with what to do, it seemed. He rolled his shoulders, and with a sighing breath, slid into the chair. He shuffled around in the hard plastic seat, lay his hands flat, palms-down on the table, and leaned close to the crystal, looking into its' depths, his eyes flicking left and right as he followed the delicate wisps of it's internal structures, the tiny micro-fissures and fractal patterns inside the crystal. He found himself drawn to the patterns, his attention on the room around him slipping away, as he could make patterns out in the crystals' depths. Images, that told of greater things, of sights, sounds, smells, tastes, textures. There was more, almost a memory, written in patterns of lines and energy in the crystal

TO BE CONTINUED

Glossary

Beech King-Air - A twin turboprop aircraft, used for all manner of utility roles around the world, the King Air is a small aircraft that is even owned by some civilians for recreational activities, and is also capable of carrying a reasonable amount of cargo and passengers over short distances.

Caribou - A medium utility propeller-driven transport, capable of carrying a reasonable amount of troops and cargo, and landing on rough surfaces. Originally used by the Canadian forces and some others around the world, it was also used by civilian transport companies. Many are still in use, despite being retired from military service and production coming to an end.

Dornier Do-228 - A small, straight-winged turboprop aircraft; the Do-228 used for transport of small cargoes and small amounts of personnel over medium distances, for both military and civilian organisations. The Do-228 was designed and built in Germany.

Gulfstream - Originally the manufacturer of a range of business jets, the name has now come to refer to the range of jets themselves. Twin-engined, and built of very modern materials and equipped with modern systems, the Gulfstream series come in a range of sizes, and are capable of long-distance flights.

PBY-5A Catalina - A piston-engined amphibious aircraft, capable of landing on the water's surface, and also on land, the Catalina was produced and designed during the Second World War, as a patrol, rescue, and anti-submarine and anti-ship aircraft by the Allied Forces. After the war, many fell into private hands, and continue to be used.

Saab Gripen - A single-engined multirole jet aircraft, of a delta-wing shape, the Gripen is small and lightweight with very modern systems. The Gripen was originally designed and manufactured in Sweden, but has been exported to many other countries. It is a very versatile and modern aircraft, and has very high agility and performance.

T-6A Texan II - A turboprop-driven training aircraft used by the USAF and other air forces as a first-stage basic trainer; it is equipped with modern avionics and cockpit systems to familiarise pilots with the systems of fighter aircraft. Some versions are also equipped with hardpoints and weapons for light ground attack and close air support.

T-38 Talon - An older 1950's designed supersonic training aircraft derived from the F-5 Tiger; used to familiarise pilots with supersonic flight and the handling of high performance aircraft.

TU-22M Backfire - The Backfire is a Soviet-designed and built supersonic bomber aircraft. A large swing-winged bomber, it does not have quite the size and range of the B-1B Lancer or TU-160 Blackjack bombers, but can still carry an impressive payload over a long range.

UAZ - A jeep-type utility vehicle designed and manufactured in Russia and the Soviet union. Dozens or more of variants are in use around the world, military and civilian.