Across the rift 1-2
Chapter 1
Intro
With wind streaming through his hair, Sean Turner piloted his 39 foot Sea Ray yacht out of port Ensenada Mexico. Clearing the harbor, he slowly increased speed until he was cruising at twenty knots. heading westward towards U.S. waters. At 5'10" he wasn't particularly tall but neither was he short. And while only weighing 150 pounds he was quick, if a bit skinny. With dirty blond hair and light skin that burned easily when out on the water, he could blend into almost any crowd in western Europe, Almost.
The one thing that set him apart was his face. While not unusually shaped or colored in itself, his pale green eyes hinting at his Irish ancestry, It was the mass of scar tissue extending from a half inch above his eyebrows and ending a full inch below his eyes, almost like a mask, that set him apart.
In the Spring of 2014, just 19 years old at the time, a 60mm mortar shell had hit the nose of his MH-60K Black Hawk while med-evacing wounded soldiers. The shell hadn't detonated on impact, driving straight through the nose, and had instead detonated upon hitting the ground. He had been knocked unconscious and his copilot and best friend Ryan had been killed.
The ground troops had managed to get all members of the crew out before it was totally destroyed, but one of the door gunners and the crew chief suffered moderate burns. Sean, on the other hand, had gotten a face full of shrapnel, only prevented from suffering even more damage by his flight helmet which had protected the rest of his face. Although he didn't lose his sight, thanks to several surgeries, he still lost his flight status.
Eventually he transferred to infantry. In 2015 he was again deployed, this time as a combat engineer. Finally in 2018 he was honorably discharged, handed his DD-214, and left to his own devices. After a brief stint as a mercenary for three years he was finally able to purchase his yacht which he named Springer.
Now 26 years old, and with tensions ratcheting up between the U.S. and Russia he figured it would be time to return to the mercenary business. Skilled in piloting, demolition, fortification construction, and small arms; not to mention having actual combat experience made him a valuable catch for any private military company he signed on for. Grinning, he brought Springer up to twenty five knots and the boat jumped forward. Oh yes, there would be plenty of work even if Russia and America didn't come to blows, there would still be all the proxy wars that would start up.
Once America had deployed the Geosynchronous Orbital Laser Defense System the threat of any attack on the U.S. was blunted significantly. Consisting of three out of the projected twelve stations remotely controlled from NORAD they could acquire, target, and destroy an inbound Inter Continental Ballistic Missile, while it was still in boost phase, in just under a minute. This had not eased tensions between America and the new Russian military junta, which had seized power in 2017. Plenty of little brush fire wars at least.
With that happy thought Sean popped open a cooler near his leg and pulled out a beer. Turning on the radio, he checked his radar, wanting to avoid meeting a Coast Guard cutter. While he didn't expect to be boarded or searched, if he was, and they found out what he had down below, he probably would be arrested and jailed.
Three hours later Sean saw San Diego coming into view. Then he saw something that made him frown. Coming out of the harbor he saw three ships. grabbing a pair of 20 power binoculars he realized they were navy ships. They were hauling ass, going 30 plus knots. Watching them for a bit he realized they were probably Ticonderoga's, the incredibly ugly superstructure was also incredibly distinctive.
This was confirmed for him, when suddenly he saw the forward launcher on the lead ship suddenly swivel and fired off a missile that quickly climbed up and to the west. Seconds later he observed the two rear ships, obviously newer models, began punching off missile after missile from their vertical launch systems away and to the west. It didn't look like any exercise he had ever seen before as they were burning through and incredible amount of missiles. Throttling down Sean decided to watch for a bit before moving in to dock.
Aboard the Combat Information Center of the USS Yorktown chaos reigned. Captain McLeary Looked at the Target Information Display in despair of the number of vampires inbound. More than two hundred targets inbound, some of them targeted on his ships no doubt. It didn't matter anyways, his formation wasn't battle ready . Lake Erie and Shiloh only carried sixty SM3 missiles the Yorktown only had forty. At best they could destroy little more than half of the inbounds, which he knew would be a miracle in itself, but more realistically they might get 30%.
It had started only four hours ago. A Russian Borei class ballistic missile submarine had surfaced off Alaska and had targeted the American early warning sites in the area with a barrage of RSM-56 submarine launched ballistic missiles. An old attack sub, one of the few remaining 688s, had jumped the Russian sub only forty minutes after its launch. Still, the damage was done.
A large force of Backfires spearheaded by Blackjacks had slipped through the hole. There they had proceeded to wreak havoc with their KH-55s backed up by KH-22s. American naval power in the pacific had been almost completely smashed. Three naval air stations had been seriously damaged and the USS Nimitz sunk along with three amphibious assault ships.
"SIR" A panicked ensign called. "Shiloh and Lake Erie are requesting orders."
"Inform them to engage targets at will." McLeary said calmly, no matter his own doubts roiling around in his mind he had to stay calm in front of the crew.
"Flash message from COMPACFLT, sir! We are ordered to defend San Diego to the best of our ability, no reinforcements available, everyone else is busy!" Another ensign shouted. McLeary merely nodded, he knew his duty, he knew what to do, and he would execute it as best able or die trying.
Aboard Springer Sean stood dumbfounded. He was now beginning to see the missile impacts, little more than puffs of smoke and flame in the sky. Then, suddenly, he saw a missile streak in and slam into the hull of the third cruiser. It immediately began listing to one side and pulling out of the formation, yet continuing to pump out missile after missile. This was when Sean was forced to comprehend, his country was under attack and however the mercenary he was, it was still his country, he had never undertaken a contract against America, and now before him American servicemen were dying.
He watched in shock as another missile slipped through the missile screen the cruisers were throwing up then another and another. Soon more were slipping through then were being stopped.
Two more missiles came in for the damaged cruiser, and he saw one suddenly erupt in a gout of flame, as he heard a faint sound between a ripping and a growling, probably the 30mm CIWS firing. The second missile however, bored straight in and took her in the bridge. A third striking her amid ship. Then a thunderous eruption of flame as her magazines exploded. Sean had barely gotten into range but he could now make out the name on the ship with his binoculars, Shiloh, then she was gone.
With the outgoing fire reduced the other two ships began taking hits as well as even more missiles slipped through the screen. In a matter of seconds only the lead ship, Yorktown, remained. Firing only from her aft launcher and burning brightly she held up for a few moments more. Then she too was gone, consumed by the savagery of three near simultaneous strikes.
Captain McLeary's battle group was able to stop almost forty percent of inbounds. His actions on that day would earn him a posthumous navy cross.
Sean said a quick prayer for the souls of the men aboard then, seeing missiles begin to strike the ships in dry dock, sought to change course and move away from the attack. Then there was a blindingly white light, an intense heat and pressure and suddenly a sucking sound as he felt himself being dragged by something, a kaleidoscope of color, a spinning sensation, and finally darkness.
Chapter 2
Emergence
Sean slowly blinked his eyes open, blinking away the pain throbbing in the back of his skull, abruptly he rolled over threw up. With this new motivation to get his face away from his vomit, he staggered unsteadily to his feet. Leaning against the side his first thought was that Springer had beached. Looking to the side and seeing jungle, He decided this was correct. Jungle? There shouldn't be any jungle anywhere near where he was. Shaking his head slowly to clear it and ignoring the sharp stab of pain that this produced.
His first thoughts were to get his bearings and figure out the situation, years of training kicking in. He moved to the cabin to see the GPS and was surprised to see "NO SIGNAL" on the front of it. Sean's first bleary thought on the situation was that the satellites must have knocked out. Never less he needed to find out what was happening, his only option now seemed to be a recon in force. Slowly and unsteadily he let himself down the stairs to the lower area. Stumbling up against a large locked door, he numbly tapped in his alphanumerical code.
There was a hiss and clank then the door slowly swung open. Inside was a room that would have made any gun nut jealous, and any law enforcement officer quake in fear. Sean called it his "War Chest". Indeed it was, for it could almost outfit a small army. Guns on the walls and ammo boxes everywhere and even a case of C4 and a few crates of claymores.
He immediately turned to the left wall where he had his personal favorites. Looking long and hard he finally selected an CAR-15 HBAR, semi automatic and chambered for the .458 SOCOM round, its small profile, incredible accuracy and stopping power made it great for many situations. Sean also grabbed an MK23 in case he needed a little discretion and almost as an afterthought grabbed the hatchet resting on a table, in case he needed to cut through any tough foliage. While a machete would be better, he unfortunately didn't have one.
Stopping on his way out he grabbed his Reactive Combat Armor. Fitting over his entire body it took him a few seconds to strip down and wiggle into it. However the armor more than made up for any discomfort. A form fitting ballistic weave, with impact plates on the torso, thighs, and shins. Despite being less than an inch thick the skintight armor was capable of stopping a direct hit from a .30 caliber round to the limbs, the chest armor could stop a direct him from almost anything up to .50 caliber and could even take a glancing blow from up to 25mm, though the impact would probably kill him. It also allowed him to take a knife up to four inches to the chest and two inches to the limbs due to the incredible density of the material. In addition to that, on the left forearm was a built in interface device allowing him to use the communications and networking gear built into the helmet, almost like a mini computer.
Slinging his rifle and holstering his pistol he popped over the side of the boat. Slowly he began moving through the forest trying to make as little noise as possible. It was a dark and humid place full of dangling vines that would impede his progress and general make things difficult. The armor at least wasn't stifling, it had a thin heating and cooling system in it, pumping either hot or cold chemicals through a flexible network only millimeters thick running the entire length of the suit. The pattern, a mixture of greens and yellows, helped him blend into the landscape.
After only 15 minutes of walking Sean suddenly felt like he was being watched. A few more minutes of walking and he was sure of it. Suddenly a humanoid figure burst from the foliage to his right. Unable to bring his gun inline, Sean was knocked to the ground. He rolled out from beneath his attacker and only stood up when he had gained several feet of distance.
This was when he got his first good look at his attacker. Standing more than a foot higher than his own 5'10" and probably a good 80 pounds heavier Sean knew he was outmatched. He next noticed that his attacker, while standing like a man, was obviously not one. Light golden fur and a bestial snarling face were his first clue, the razor sharp claws were also a fairly obvious indicator.
"Oh shit" Was Sean's first words out of his mouth as he franticly tried to tug out his hatchet from where it was hanging at his belt. However at this the beast in front of him paused, an almost confused look crossed it inhuman features. Sean was pretty sure that it wasn't out of any fear of the hatchet he now held in one hand, low and to the side ready to try and gut it if it tried to spring at him again.
However the creature seemed to be relaxing, as if it didn't consider him a threat anymore. It was then that Sean noticed that his attacker despite his obviously alien visage was dressed in what could be called clothes, really not much more than the skin of some large reptile wrapped around its legs like a kilt, and had a short stabbing sword attached to one hip by a piece of rope.
Suddenly it leaped and all of Sean's attention was on not killed. It moved incredibly fast and suddenly was on him pinning him down, he just barely got the haft of the hatchet between the snapping teeth and his unprotected neck, teeth sinking deep into the reinforced plastic of the grip.
Taking a risk, he took one hand off the hatchet and viciously smashed his right elbow into the golden furred attackers face. With a surprised sound the creature leaped off him and moved some feet away hands on its muzzle, watching him warily and making whimpering sounds.
"Why the hell did you do that?" The creature said in a whimpering voice that still sounded like a purr.
"You might have just broken my damn nose." At this Sean was angrier than surprised at the creature talking, it had leapt on and tried to kill him and now it was yelling at him for defending himself!
"Well if you don't attack and try and kill people they won't try and fight back!" Sean yelled back growing angrier by the second. The situation was just too surreal.
"I wasn't going to kill you; I was just having a little fun." Sean snorted in disgust at this.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" Sean managed to say after the few seconds it took to digest the situation.
"My name is Arutha, and I was posted here by my people, to guard against any raiding parties. Who are you and why are you here?" The creature, Arutha, then asked suddenly suspicious.
"Sean Turner and I don't know how I got here." Sean answered truthfully, for he saw no advantage in trying to deceive Arutha yet.
"Hmm you could have come through on another rift." Arutha mused almost to himself.
"What?" Sean asked bewildered, but Arutha ignored him.
"We will go back to my village and the elders will decide what to do." Arutha suddenly said. Sean knew he would have to establish friendly contacts with the natives and this was probably his best chance. He knew he would have to be wary; this could simply be a trick to catch him off guard. But, if this creature, this Arutha, had wanted him dead it could have done so easily.
"Lead on." Sean decided that he would see what the situation was before doing anything rash. He also needed to find out what was going on. As it was he had no idea where he was, how he got there, or what was going on. Pausing only to pick up his dropped gear, they both set off into the forest.