FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

Wylde Fyre

By Stephen Doyle

Barry Roberts and all associated characters belong to Direwolf505, and are used with his permission. Please check out his work on FurAffinity!

Chapter Nine

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August 25th 2017 Tajikistan Five Miles South of Dzharteppa 10:30am

Gunfire was still spraying up the highway as the truck raced down the blacktop, swerving to avoid burned out and wrecked vehicles, or occasionally shouldering them aside. In a normal truck, this would be a much more of a danger, but the Roadhammer was anything but normal. Once upon a time it may have been a long-nosed cargo truck. Now, it was more like the mutant offspring of an M2 Bradley and a Vietnam-era guntruck, which might've made its way to the modern world via the wastelands of Mad Max. It was an armour plated monster, with slatted windows and a front fender that'd give a snow-plough or a bulldozer a second thought. Its' long nose gave it an aggressive aspect; one enhanced by the turret atop the armoured box of the rear, and the stubby gun-ports on both sides. As Nadia, the sleek, slim sable-furred ferret in the drivers' seat angled the Roadhammer around yet another abandoned car, the turret swivelled and opened into hammering fire with the lighter of its' two guns, a browning M2 .50 calibre heavy machine-gun. The pursuing armoured, black-bodied SUV's screeched tire smoke and skidded aside, before the .50 met metal, and one of their number spun out of control into a spectacular crash. Inside the truck, the leader of the group worked his way from the viewing slits at the back to the front, using hand-holds as he moved. Grey furred, scarred, rugged and with a black patch covering his left eye and a cigarette clamped in his muzzle, Barry Roberts cut the expression of a dedicated team leader. One that was deserved, as the team around him were his friends as much as his comrades, something shown by how hard they fought whenever he'd asked. "How we doing, Nadia?" he asked as the wolf poked his muzzle into the driving compartment. The ferret glanced back and nodded. "Good, I think. We're almost at the GPS co-ordinates we got before the mission. How many of them are on our ass now?" "One less, at least," replied Barry, his lips quirking up in a slight smile. "Thistles' seen to that". His gloved thumb jerked back toward the turret-well, where the muscular, yet shapely, lower body of a huge female badger extended into the cabin. The team's Heavy Weapons specialist, Thistle as tough as she was big, and had enough muscle to probably throw the bullets hard enough to go through armour, never mind shoot them. Despite this, there was no mistaking her as anything but female due, if only because of the haltingly beautiful eyes she had, along with her somewhat disproportionately generous bosom she possessed. Should anyone further mistake her, if the normally silent woman was to speak, it would instantly correct them - she had the voice of an angel. "They are really wanting Black Box back," Sasha added from the passenger seat with an amused smile, her Russian accent adding a musical note to her voice. The humour sparkled in the vixens' grey eyes, making them stand out against her almost midnight-black fur. "It is almost a shame to disappoint them!" "Speak for yourself," replied Sarah, Barry's second in command, from her position in one of the Roadhammers' bench seats. The fox-wolf had taken a grazing hit in their extraction from the building that had held the black box. Phil, the teams' communications expert was finishing up the field dressing as they made good their escape. "I'm quite happy to leave them behind, and leave them disappointed to boot. Thistle can shoot as many more of them as she likes". Barry grinned at her and shrugged. "Least they didn't hit anything important. Might need to check everything's workin' properly later though, right?" Sarah rolled her eyes in amusement and leaned back against the wall as Phil stood and brushed his hands against his camouflaged pants. The mouse looked to Barry who nodded his approval. "Think we're about clear," he said as the sounds of gunfire dropped off, the sound of the Roadhammers' huge engine the only noise aside from their own movements and the rattle of various gear and fittings. "Phil, time to get on the radio and call for our ride outta here and back into civilization". "Right," replied the mouse briskly. Sitting himself on one of the bench seats, he settled his headphones over his large, sensitive ears and began to transmit the code phrases and signals over the radio. As sharp clipped tones replied, the mouse spoke rapidly, showing his expertise. Moments later he looked up to Barry's waiting face and nodded. "Bird's inbound, they oughta be here in five". "Gotcha," replied the wolf. "Let's pull up and make sure we got no company".

The Roadhammer pulled to a gentle stop under Nadia's control and with a hiss of brakes, the big marine diesel engine rumbling softly in its' song as it ticked over. The back door and passenger side doors opened as Thistle swivelled the turret around the area slowly, checking for any signs of an ambush or roving patrol. By the numbers, the rest of the team spread out in a perfectly executed dismount, moving and covering each other with automatic, wordless efficiency. Weapons were pulled tightly to shoulders, eyes in a straight line down sights as they moved tactically around the area, and formed a tight perimeter. "All clear," Sarah reported to Barry a few moments later, shifting her Steyr TMP to a low carry as she approached him. Barry had his M-14 EBR in a similar posture, his cigarette glowing as he listened to the news. "All right," he replied after a moment. "Keep yer eyes peeled, sweetheart, and we'll move out once the birds' down and ready for us". The team didn't have long to wait. Moment later, Sasha called out the eyes-on to the aircraft, as it dipped a wing and moved into a turn from high above. The drone of props filled the air as an Airbus A400M Atlas transport plane lined up on the hardtop road for a landing, gear down and locking into position. No sudden bursts of gunfire emerged, and no sudden streak of a missile from nowhere; and then the plane was on the ground and taxiing. Barry let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding, and used hand signals to get the team moving as the plane pivoted on the tarmac, and the rear ramp came down. The four engines roared as the plane turned about to face the way it had come, and then wound down to a lower idling RPM, the scimitar-shaped prop blades whirling circles as the loadmaster jogged down the ramp, and Barry jogged to meet him. "You got the package?" the Marten yelled over the noise. "You know it," Barry replied, raising his voice similarly. "It's in the truck. Ready to take us home?" "Of course," replied the helmeted Foundation man. "Roll her onboard, and we'll get you out of here!" Barry and Sarah co-ordinated the team expertly, and within moments the Roadhammer was aboard the transport. The team took a seat, safeing and unloading weapons, Thistle emerging from the turret at last and taking a seat with a slight sigh of relief. Nadia smiled up at her, and the badger gave a silent nod and the briefest of smiles. Acceleration pressed them all into their seats as the A400Ms' engines roared up to power again, the crew opting for a fast, short takeoff, even with the extra weight of the truck aboard. The plane jolted lightly as it left the ground, the rumble of wheels on the road dropping away and replace with the rough rumble of the turboprops as they gained altitude. Sarah came to sit beside Barry, leaning in close as the rest of the team exchanged banter and small talk . "So, we got the package, and we're on our way back to base; a successful mission. You said there'd be more from the same guys?" "Eyup," replied the wolf, rubbing the patch over his missing left eye with the back of one gloved hand. He looked over to where Phil was examining the two aircraft black boxes, and a small stack of hard drives and computer memory chips they'd recovered from a building in the town. "Seems like it'll be worthwhile, especially since whatever's on those black boxes and sticks of memory is worth being that well-armed for. Someone don't want it getting out into the world, and was willing to be all shady about it - which means it's probably something that shouldn't be happening". "Just the kind of thing we stick our noses into then, huh?" Barry answered with a raised eyebrow and a smile, to which Sarah chuckled softly, the humour dancing in her eyes. The grey wolf leant back in the canvas jump-seat of the Airbus Atlas, and Sarah did likewise, their hands silently finding one another and holding as the plane made a gentle bank, heading westward for the first leg of the flight towards the Azores.

August 25th 2017 Lajes Air Force Base Terceira Island, Azores 10:30am (15:30pm Tajikistan Time)

Sleep drifted away in the rush of waking, and Seans' ear twitched as he awoke. He kept his eye closed a moment longer as he languished in the comfort of the huge double bed of his on-base home, and as his muscles twitched, and senses came to, he felt the soft warmth pressed against his front, the soft, smooth, cushy swell of furred flesh under his left arm, the tickle of sweetly-scented auburn hair against his muzzle, and a tail draped over his thigh. Memories of the previous night flashed back, and he opened an eye half-way, looking into the tangle of buoyant curls at the back of Nina's head - after all, she was that little taller than him. He left hand stroked and hugged softly at the curve of her plush stomach, and he nestled his head against her shoulder momentarily. Other parts of his body stirred as memories flooded back unbidden at the cosy warmth of her body and his in twain, and the full-bodied hyena stirred with a sleepy, playful growl and half rolled over, looking at him through heavy-lidded bright green eyes. "Mmm, morning handsome," she said in a sleep-heavy voice. His muzzle found hers and they kissed slowly and languorously. She pulled his arm over her shoulder and hugged him closer, grinning wickedly as she wiggled her plentiful rump into his crotch, and he growled into the nape of her neck, his arm tightening around her, and moving up, squeezing one of her large, shapely breasts. "You're ready for more, after last night?" she murmured gently arching her back further and pressing her muzzle against the side of his face. "You animal," she chuckled, reaching beneath the covers and searching with one hand, which elicited a lower, throatier sound from the fox. "I can't get enough of you," he chuckled back, raising his free hand to tilt her muzzle to meet his and kiss her deeply once more. "But we'll have ta put a pause on this lovely wakeup, since I gotta go see th' flight surgeon today, and we're already runnin' late". "No fair," she growled with some genuine irritation, but a smile, turning in his arms to look into his face. The covers fell around their middles as she turned, and he wrapped her naked, in his arms as she did the same. "I could get comfortable here. You know how to lay out a place, and to make a lady feel welcome". "I do my best," the fox replied with a soft chuckle, as she ran one finger down a scar on his chest, livid against the near-white fur. "An' I can't let y'all leave without offerin' pancakes fer breakfast, and a shower" "Well," she said slowly, the corner of her lip moving up in a smile made only more saucy by the wild tumble of her hair, as she looked into his face. "If you're in such a hurry maybe we could move things along by showering together, hmm?"

The shower really hadn't made things quicker, but neither had it managed to stop Sean from breaking into uncontrollable bouts of smiles as he rode in the passenger seat of Rebecca's Hummvee toward the bases' medical facility. The rough collie kept glancing over at him with an amused smile on her muzzle, before finally looking over the top of her Ray-Bans at him as the truck pulled to a stop in one of the spaces outside the modern-looking building. "That big stupid grin you keep getting on your muzzle is utterly infuriating, Blade," she said after a moment, although the smile remained. "Do try and at least keep it under control, or release a message on the Institute internal network that you got some ass last night, since you're virtually broadcasting it". Her tail wagged in amusement, and her nose twitched. "Besides," she murmured as she stepped past the fox, who was half-opening his muzzle to answer back, "I can still barely smell her on you... very nice," she added with a smirk, pocketing the glasses. Rolling his single eye and shaking his head, Sean followed her inside, directing his glance around the room instead of on her backside and thinking of aiming a kick at it or possibly withering her to death with a stare. The medical facility had obviously been built earlier than the HQ building he'd been in, and may have been one of the buildings from the military base already here, as it lacked the sophistication and ultra-modern glass-and-metal look that the HQ had. However, it was still light, modern, and pleasant to be in - as much as any medical facility was, anyway. Tasteful pictures decorated the walls, and various plants stood in corners, keeping the air fresh with only a sharp undertone of disinfectant and sterility. "Before we go on," Rebecca said, coming to a stop suddenly and drawing a slim, black leather folder that virtually matched the businesslike suit she wore, despite the heat, from under one arm. "I must remember to hand this over to you". Unzipping the wallet with an elegant movement of her slender fingers, the collie produced a thick, yet small, card that was virtually transparent aside from a photo of Sean, writing identifying his name and position, and several gold filigrees of circuit-like paths running through the thick plastic. "Your PAN card, which also serves as your ID and virtually everything else you'll need. There's also this-" she handed over a perforated envelope "-which has all your network access details, including your pay details. Once you've opened the envelope and put in the data, you can reset it yourself and it'll be coded onto your PAN card too. It's all self-explanatory, so you'll get it. You'll also note that you've been cleared for driving now, considering your little adventure the other day". Sean grinned at that, his ears flicking and tail wagging slowly. "Do I get my own Hummvee?" "I don't think so, I'm afraid. We're running a little short in the Motor Pool right now, and while our hosts are very welcoming, they can't give us everything. Besides, we have all those lovely planes to pay for; there's not really enough to go around for cars for everyone too." "Shame y'all can't get my Mustang over here from England... maybe some time". "Well, while it may be a better deal than the USAF, I'm afraid it's not all roses and sunshine, Sean. And after all, we are here to do a job, and a very important one at that". "Yeah, I knew the holiday wasn't gonna last forever," said Sean with a sigh, as he took the offered papers. He examined the card with a raised eyebrow, and fell in behind the collie again as she headed for a door out of the atrium and down a corridor. A few steps down, she knocked, and stepped in as a loud, yet friendly male voice bid them enter. Sean followed her in, and immediately his eye fell upon the doctor they'd come to see. The black-and-brown furred heavy-set canine was sat at a desk that while not exactly cluttered, was busy with models of DNA strands, a stethoscope on a stand, an antique microscope, and all manner of other knickknacks and keepsakes. The walls held evidence of the Doctors - whose name was Jean Lafontaine - many achievements and qualifications, some more unusual and unexpected than others. Although with the things he'd found out over the last few days regarding the Institute and its' goals, it wasn't as much of a surprise as he'd have found it previously. Anthropological studies, humanimal geography and population disposition, genetics and more were all present on the walls, along with an equally diverse library. The doctors appearance mirrored the eclectic nature of his office. While the Bernese Mountain Dog was dressed in a smart shirt, pants, and a lab coat; he wore a brightly coloured and patterned tie, with Converse sneakers on his feet in bright red, that matched the bright red braces he wore. As Sean stepped in, he rose from his seat and extended a huge hand that firmly engulfed the foxes' hand within. Huge and broad-shouldered, as well as somewhat barrel-chested, the Swiss canine gave a wide grin as he shook Seans' hand in a nearly bone-crushing grip. "Ah, Oberst Blade, a pleasure to meet you. Please, why do you not take a seat and we shall discuss your visit today, hmm?" Sean was immediately taken with the big mans' jovial manner and constant smile. He settled into the chair indicated, while Rebecca sat at the rear of the room. The doctor leaned back in his chair, settling his bulk slightly and shifting, his muzzle on one hand thoughtfully as he examined Seans' face critically, jotting a few notes, before leaning closer. "I am Doctor Lafontaine," he said with another bright smile as he leaned forward. "But please, call me Jean". The thick accent in the doctors' voice made sound come out comically stereotypical, almost like a 1940's movie. It did nothing to stop his rapid and excited speech though, which was full of hand gestures and smiles. "I shall hope that we do not see too much of each other, certainly beyond what our normal duties would require, but I do keep my door open and welcome". "Thanks, Doc" replied Sean with a nod. "Good to see another friendly face. Not that I ain't been welcome so far, o'course. All the same - Bex there said you had some magic potions for me?" The canines' grin split wider as Sean spoke, and he laughed, a deep bassy rumble that shook his chest as it rolled around the small room. "Ah, yes, yes, indeed. After all, your results from the base hospital at Rammstein and the tests upon being recruited for the Institute indicated you have the Atlantean Genes in your makeup, and we have our 'magic potion' as you say". Sean noticed Rebecca giving a wry smile and a slight shake of her head out of the corner of his remaining eye, and looked between the pair, puzzled by the apparent shared joke. "What the heck's goin' on here?" he growled. "There some kinda joke here I ain't a part of?" "Something like that," replied the large canine with a wide grin. "Did you talk to any of your team-mates about the procedure?" "No-o" said Sean slowly, "Should I have," he asked slowly. "I'm sure it will be fine," replied the jovial Doctor, tapping a few notes into his computer as he examined Seans' healing injuries, and gave a nod at completion. "Now, I must explain a few things regarding the retro-viral treatment; things you should be aware of. First, there will be some side effects immediately. You will feel slow, tired, and a somewhat ill. Headaches and other aches are likely, as are wild swings in mood, due to your changing body chemistry over the twenty-four hours following the procedure. Do not worry, you will be signed off for this time". He checked another note on the computer monitor and nodded. "Following that, please come back to me, and I shall administer a check-up to make sure that the procedure has had the intended effect, and you are able to adjust to the changes". "What kind of changes I am expecting, here?" asked the fox, rubbing his chin in thought. "Rebecca said it's make my sight and senses better, for one". The Bernese flicked his eyes sideways at Rebecca momentarily, out of Sean's eyesight. He held the look and shifted in his seat uncomfortably for a moment, before turning his eyes back to the canine. "Your senses and physiology will be heightened, making you stronger, quicker and mentally more acute. You'll heal and recover from injury at an accelerated rate, and be more resilient to damage and injury overall too. It's all part of your true Atlantean heritage, and an indicator as to what they were capable of." The Bernese gestured to the pendant around Sean's neck with his pen. "That your pendant responds to others and vice versa is a part of this. Receiving the genetic rewrite will also increase this ability you have. What research we have performed suggests that the link Atlanteans, and perhaps the Mu and Lemurians, have with Orichalcum material and its' derivatives and alloys is some kind of symbiosis or reaction between trace elements of the material in their cellular structure". Sean nodded, considering the benefits. It was almost too good to be true - a miracle injection, giving him near superhuman abilities, all for the price of signing up with the Foundation. Again, the doubts he'd expressed with Taia crept into his mind. What if the Foundation really were up to no good? What if Marcus really did have an agenda he was working toward that was less than beneficial? He grimaced, ears flicking back as he considered the implications yet again, wrestling with the idea. But what he'd said to Taia was true - if things went south, if it looked like the Foundation weren't the good guys they'd sold themselves as, then they'd adopt a quick exit out of the place, and set themselves up with the winning team. Until then, the advantages the retro-virus promised were too good to pass up, especially if he wanted to get back into the fight. "All right, Doc," he said finally, giving a nod and looking into the canines' face. "Juice me up". "Very good," the canine answered, wagging his tail and grinning. Jean swivelled his chair around, opening a cupboard to one side that hid a safe, and punching in a code that was carefully hidden from both Sean and Rebecca's eyes. He removed a hard plastic case and from that, pulled out an injection gun and loaded it with a glass vial filled with barely-blue liquid. He beckoned to Sean, who stretched out one arm, palm up. Jean parted the rust-orange fur at the crook of Sean's elbow carefully, and then glanced up into the Foxes face. "Think happy thoughts," he said to the fox, and pressed the needle of the gun to Seans' arm, and hit the trigger.

The ride home in the passenger seat of the Hummvee was interesting. Sean blinked and held tightly onto the dashboard, keeping his single eye fixed on his hands as the trembled on the plastic dashboard coaming. Already, his head was swimming with nausea, his hearing sounded like everything was coming down a tunnel, and his vision blurred. His stomach alternated between growling and churning, and he felt his temperature fluctuating wildly. He was either panting and wilting in heat, or chattering his teeth in cold. "This is going to get worse?" he managed to slur out to Rebecca, who looked at him with an expression of sympathy as they pulled up back outside his house in the little cul-de-sac that was home to the squadron. "Sadly, yes. It will get worse. But I'm sure you can handle it, if you could survive in the desert for three days on your own". "Yay for me," he groaned, as he waved her help away and planted his feet on each step up to the porch with some effort, and turned his key in the door after three attempts to push the key into the lock. Rebecca leaned on the porch railing and watched as he let himself in with a groan, and held his stomach. The collie winced, her ears drooping slightly, as he looked back at her and gave a half-wave, mumbling something about seeing her in a day or so, on the 'other side of hell'.

Rebecca trotted lightly down the steps as the door clicked closed, sliding into the Hummvees' drivers side seat. She gazed toward the house as she donned her sunglasses, regarding the place with a cool expression, before pulling out her phone and tapping a speed dial number. The call connected without ringing, and her fathers' voice spoke into her ear with a simple question. "Well?" "He accepted the retroviral formula, and he's in the first stage now. The next step will be flight exercises and tests. Is there any more news?" "Some. The 'contractors' we've hired are on their way back. They recovered more data consistent with what we learned from the documents Blade recovered in Tajikistan. He's already proved a useful asset; I think we'll get a lot of use out of him, and the people he bought with him." "I wouldn't underestimate him, father. He's got a lot of strong ties with his people, and he knows more than you realise. I can see it in him; he's always thinking about the next step, and the angles. He may not accept all of your plans. Especially the Ultimata-" "Do not mention that on a phone line," he answered instantly, his voice cold and hard. "Especially in a car, Rebecca; that is the most privileged of information. Concentrate on the immediate present, and on getting our pilots into action. Leave the rest to me". The line went dead before she could reply, and the collie sneered at the handset, her ears drooping before she tucked it back away into a pocket, and glanced at the window. She didn't particularly enjoy deceiving Sean and his comrades. All of them were nice, friendly, and honest people. They were strongly dedicated to their duties; and strongly morally opposed to wrongdoing and injustice. In short, perfect soldiers and warriors, making it all the harder to lead them on a ride. But she had to - after all, the stakes were too great to do anything less. If the Lemurians and their secret society of bastards had their way, then ultimately, there might not be any humans left to fight for. She shivered in her seat despite the heat beating down, and set off in the Hummer, there was more work to be done.

Across the base in the hangars, Nina and Red sat in the cockpit of the revamped F-111. Both had tablet computers either on their knee or in their hand, and were reading through the annotated diagrams and checklists Rachel and her staff had provided detailing the changes to the planes' cockpit. The process was surprising - normally, changes to an aircrafts' controls and the interior of the cockpit would result in things being added; especially so in the case of an aircraft like the original F-111 that was a product of the 1960's, where tape readouts and 'clock face' type displays competed for space with simple two-colour CRT displays. The refit - which was more a rebuild, in truth - had done away with almost 99% of those displays, leaving only the simple clock and compass, with a few other traditional instruments, and had instead substituted massive flat-panel LCD multi-function touch-screen displays for the system readouts, and moved most of the functions of the instruments to the pilots and WSO's helmet visor displays. Even the control sticks had been rearranged, and were now more like those of more modern fighter aircraft, relocating almost everything to programmable function switches onto either the throttle or the stick, supplemented by voice controls and the touch screens. The displays had been powered on with an external power cart, which chugged away toward the rear of the plane. The noise had resulted in them closing the canopy so that they could hear one another actually talk when necessary. "So," said Red, not looking across as he pressed the touch-screen display and gave a satisfied nod at the result. "So?" asked Nina in reply, equally not looking as she glanced down at the tablet PC's screen, then tapped the touch screen on her side, checking the window and then nodding. "So," the kangaroo continued, moving onto another check. "What do you think of the new guys? Sean and the others, I mean," he said, giving a sidelong glance to the hyena. "I mean, we've worked together for years, but those guys..." "What about 'those guys?'" said Nina, looking across after switching through more screens. "They've worked together in the same way we have, done some of the same things the same way. Hell, I bet they even had this conversation". "Yeah," said Red, screwing up his muzzle and his long ears twitching. "But, still..." "But?" The Hyena sighed and lowered his computer tablet and stared hard out of the cockpit window for a moment, leaning back in the ejector seat. "Maybe it's not them I have a problem with," he said after a moment, his voice quiet. "Maybe it's more this situation we're in, with the Foundation and all. And you, receiving that Super Soldier Serum of theirs; it's too much of a good thing. Too many unknowns, with what they want to do 'for' the world. I guess I'm concerned we'll get caught up in something we don't wanna be part of. That we'll get, I dunno - used". He looked over at the hyena as he said that last part, a sombre expression on his muzzle, and she was looking at him with a interested expression. He raised an eyebrow and shrugged, and the hyena grinned. "Sorry, Red - I'm not used to seeing you be this serious. But you're right; this place is impressive, but I'm... concerned too. We haven't been on a mission yet, and we've only seen one bad guy so far, in the single event that ended up leading us here anyway. And we've all been pulled in the same way. I think the other guys-" she glanced toward the two F-15's, nestled together nose-to-tail a short distance away - "Are in the same boat as us. We were all there when the same things happened at the base, and that fake marine was after all of us. And the Iranians were gunning for everyone too, and everyone fought back the same way; I don't think they know any more than us". Red nodded, looking at the two planes as well, the familiarisation forgotten for a moment. "About the only person who wasn't there was Blade," he said, looking at the nearest of the two aircraft, the single seater that would be Sean's. "He got shot down, and wandered the desert, and came back with a grab-bag full of intel that pointed us this way-" Red cut off his monologue as he saw the expression on Nina's face, and slowly picked his tablet PC up again looking back at the screen, and away from the dark expression on her face. "He's not in league with the bad guys, Red," she said in a quiet and firm voice, that despite its' low volume managed to cut through the background noise in the cockpit. "Trust me; I know. He's concerned by the same thing". "Sorry," he murmured quietly. "I didn't really think there'd be anything to it. But still; we ought to be careful, you know? It's just hard to decide who we should trust" "Maybe," she replied, picking up her tablet with a sigh, "but we can trust them," she nodded toward the paired F-15's. "You're probably right," groused the Kangaroo. He looked outside the canopy again, his eyes tracking something. "But are you sure about her?" he said a moment later, pointing to Rebecca, who was engaged in conversation with Rachel to one side of the hangar. "Her, I'm not so sure of," the hyena replied, her ears flattening back and staying back, her green eyes fixed on the rough collie. Red followed her gaze, the tablet again abandoned as they pair looked at the collie. He looked back at her and frowned. "I know I don't trust her," he said, "but you've obviously got some much bigger beef with her, huh?" "Kinda," she said absently. "When I looked into the crystal, before Sean arrived, the first time we went into the cavern-city; it showed me a lot of things. It showed me the same as Sean, the fall of the city, but it showed me a little more. Who was responsible for screwing with the defences, and allowing the city to fall, what they looked like". "Wait," said Red, alarm crossing his face as he twisted rapidly. "You mean, it was, well, not her, but-" The hyena nodded slowly as she spoke. "Someone that definitely looked a hell of a lot like her, yeah. A rough collie, in a high position of trust, and then betrayed the city and let the Lemurians in to take the place down". She shook her head and sighed. "Of course, the crystal doesn't tell the whole story of what happened, or why they did it. I think that's partly one of the things I want to find out about all of this." "You think we should give her the benefit of the doubt?" "I think we shouldn't judge her too soon, but by the same line, we shouldn't let our guard down. She must expect someone else to know. And have seen the same thing herself, too. We should trust Sean and his guys, share what we know with them... and be on guard together" Red gave one last lingering look at the collie, before nodding at Nina with a tight smile, his eyes still showing the doubt. "Right," he said after a moment. "You're the pilot, after all. I have to follow where you're going". Nina gave him a grin and patted his shoulder gently, before they both went back to their work.

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August 26th 2017 Lajes Air Force Base Terceira Island, Azores 17:30

Sean groaned and drew the edges of the blanket around himself and squeezed his eye tight against the light and grimaced as his stomach churned again. Laid on the couch, he didn't want to take to lying in bed; that would be too much like admitting defeat. Not to mention he wasn't exactly tired, just ill. Really ill, in fact; the kind of ill where everything hurt, every joint ached and every movement ended up producing a wave of disorientating nausea. His senses were definitely sharper, it was like the world was turning into a HD Surround Sound version of itself, but unfortunately it didn't come with a volume control, or a brightness filter, so his beleaguered brain was trying to adapt to the overpowering stimuli. And that was besides the rest of the changes he had to deal with - every other sensation in his body was going haywire. Over the last eight hours, he'd been ravenously hungry and devoured s much of the BBQ leftovers as he'd dared - which had been a critical mistake a few hours later, as his body had gone full circle and wanted to get rid of all the delicious food. And then again, it had gone from being sick, to cold, to hot, to hyperactive, to dog-dead-tired, to indescribably horny, to feeling almost stoned-drunk. After nearly twelve hours of these ups and downs, the vulpine was genuinely tired, hungry, and emotionally exhausted. Of course, the hour of uncontrollable gibbering and sobbing had probably added to that too. Now, he lay flat on the couch with the TV on very quietly, curtains drawn, dressed in sleep shorts and a battered, comfortable T-shirt and cocooned in a duvet, hissing every time a loud noise happened on the TV, with one claw-like hand venturing out occasionally for a sip of the extremely sweet, warm, and weak tea he'd managed to hold down so far. The headache he'd had since he'd closed the door after Rebecca had dropped him off what seemed like another lifetime ago had dulled down to an occasional thump, rather than the laser-guided armour-piercing pain-bullets he'd been pounded with earlier. Curling up again, he blinked slowly, his eye finally focusing on the TV enough to make out what was going on. Everything was more focused, sharpened, the TV image appearing more flat and unrealistic as he looked. Despite being a HD flat-screen TV, it lacked the definition that the ceiling, with the bobbled ripples in the plaster did, or the smears on the glass, or anything else in the room did. Slowly, he sat up, reaching for the glass of water on the table and picking up as he looked around. And then he paused - he'd picked up the glass, unconsciously, without any effort on guiding his hand to it and correcting for depth perception from his missing eye. Oh, hell yes. He thought, and repeated the exercise, growing more confident as he tried other things. Quickly, he found that his hearing was more acute, and he had an improved range of hearing. His sight was more acute and accurate, and thanks to thank, it had correct itself to a significant degree - although he still had a blind spot, and had to concentrate. He had better balance, and could detect more distinct scents when he used his nose. And even better, he no longer felt like he was about to die, which made it all worthwhile. His stomach growled and he groaned. Now that all the illness had passed, he was really, really hungry. Sean reached for his phone with a smile; it was time to get the gang together, and get things really moving as a squadron. As he dialled, his ears twitched at the sound of a large prop-driven plane landing on the main runway.

In the parking apron for the Foundations' aircraft, Rebecca leaned against her Hummvee and watched as the A400M airbus Atlas turned 180 on the apron, and the ramp at the rear slowly lowered with a low whine, just audible as the scimitar-bladed props wound down. With a grumble of powerful engines, the RoadHammer truck backed down the ramp, swinging smoothly into a wide turn as it passed under the tail of the transport plane, and then coasted neatly to a halt exactly opposite Rebecca. The collie pushed herself away from her leaning position on the vehicle, and stood tall and smart, brushing imaginary lint from her immaculate tropical-weight shirt as the armoured trucks' door opened, and a grizzled, yet distinguished grey-furred wolf clad in tactical clothing and strapped with tactical gear climbed down and turned to face her. Immediately, she noted that, like Sean, he was missing his left eye and it was covered by a black leather patch. He looked older than the Vulpine though, and more experienced, or hardened by whatever life he'd led. He carried himself proudly, and with a reserved kind of motion. "Mister Roberts?" she said, extending a slim hand. The wolf eyed her for a moment, before giving a brusque nod and taking her hand in his own black-gloved hand and pumping it once. "Right," he answered in a gruff voice. "You're the one we're reportin' to fer this?" he said, jerking his head in the vague direction of the plane. "My boss asked for your help. Something about a favour, I hear. He said to mention 'that time in Africa'...?" Barry winced and nodded rapidly. "Yeah, yeah, that's about right. Okay, so, that's a favour settled, and done with. And gladly, if it was the same people we were up against". "I'm told so. You got the information?" Sarah, Phil and the others had disembarked from the truck, or were sitting in the doors, or leaning against the bodywork, which was heating up slowly in the mid-Atlantic sun. The mouse came up alongside Barry, and handed over a diplomatic pouch and a pair of hard drives. "All on there," Phil remarked, studying the collie curiously. "Everything we could pull. None of it is corrupted, or destroyed; I disabled their security systems before we ripped out the drives". "Excellent," remarked Rebecca with a cool smile. "So," said Barry after a moment, folding his arms and shifting his weight onto his back foot. "Is that it, or are there more of these guys...?" She hesitated and looked back toward the rest of the facility. There was the upcoming mission, and the need for personnel... "There may be another mission we could use your assistance on," she said carefully, "if you'd be interested. The same group again, with more of the same problems. But this time you'd have help, people to work with..." "I'd have to meet them first," said the wolf firmly. "I don't wanna work with them otherwise" "Not a problem," she replied. "I can arrange that right away..." Rebecca reached for her phone.

To Be Continued...

Glossary:

Airbus A400M 'Atlas': A four engined turboprop - that is, modern propeller driven - transport plane, built by the European aircraft company 'Airbus', more widely known for airliners. Around the same size as the much older and more venerable C-130 Hercules, it is designed for the same kind of tactical and strategic transport roles, to complement and replace some models of the C-130.

Browning M2: A heavy machine-gun firing rounds a half-inch - thus, 0.50 - in diameter. Based on a design first produced prior to the Second World War, modernised versions of the M2 are still produced and used today in all branches of a massive variety of armed forces, paramilitary organisations, and even in the hands of terrorist organisations and other groups, all around the world. The .50 round is effective against personnel, light vehicles, and even lightly armoured vehicles. Due to it's large size, the M2 is not man-portable, and is usually mounted on vehicles or a special tripod when fired.

M2 Bradley: A tracked armoured personnel carrier (APC), capable of carrying six fully equipped soldiers, as well as a three man crew, into battle and giving them covering fire with its' turret-mounted 25mm chaingun and TOW missiles.

M-14 EBR: M-14 Enhanced Battle Rifle; based on a 7.62mm 'battle rifle', formerly used in general issue to the US Armed Forces in the early 1960's, now used for ceremonial duties and in limited numbers. The EBR version is essentially the same 'guts' of the rifle, with a new stock, grip, and other functional parts, modernised and able to be equipped with a variety of modern accessories thanks to the accessory rails mounted on its' frame. Very accurate and powerful due to its' heavy and powerful round, the M-14 has also formed the basis for a number of sniping weapons. The EBR equally makes a handy sharp-shooting weapon in a tight situation.

Steyr TMP: A modern-looking sub machine-gun, the TMP, or Tactical Machine Pistol, is a compact firearm with a side-folding stock, and a sturdy vertical foregrip. The exterior is made entirely of moulded plastics and synthetics, making the entire weapon light-weight. It is also very compact, and has a high rate of fire, making it very formidable in close-quarters. The TMP uses 9mm pistol ammunition, which is also very common, if not especially powerful. A rail atop the body allows various sights and optical aids to be attached.