FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Rika sighed and set her PDA down, glancing at the troubleshooting tree on the display one last time. She did NOT like where this gripe was going. Grabbing a tool from her box she set about unlatching the grip pad from the floor the crew quarters. It was an almost tacky carpet-like material to prevent crew from sliding during the unexpectant accelerations Farrom interceptors frequently experience. She reached the last fastener in the far corner and sighed. It was encrusted with crud; likely a forgotten split beverage (or something far less savory) that had dried to sticky and collected dirt, dust, and shed fur. When she had checked into the training squadron a year ago it would have disgusted her, but now it was just an annoyance that slowed her down. She set the square latch tool down and set about digging the crud out with a claw. A claw she didn't have a little over a year ago. In fact, she mused, a year and a half ago she was unrecognizable from what she looked like now. Yet she remembered leaving that identity as if it happened yesterday. The hairless, human form that had branded her callsign that she bore even now as a corporal...

[RECRUIT FLAT FACE!] yelled Platoon Sergeant Whosp.

Rika sprinted to the quarter deck, racing Bokkan, [RECRUIT BENDRIN REPORTING AS ORDERED SIR!]

"Report to medical with Squad Sergeant Milam!"

"YES SIR!"

Bokkan let go of her hand as Rika ran to where the Squad sergeant was waiting by the door.

"RECRUITS BOKKAN AND FLAT FACE, DID I SAY YOU COULD LET GO?!"

Rika froze, mentally cursing. She turned as Bokkan sprinted towards her.

"NO SIR!" they screamed in unison.

"YOU'LL BE FEELING PAIN WHEN YOU GET BACK!"

"YES SIR!"

Bokkan snatched Rika's hand again as she slid trying to stop herself before running into the wall.

Ssgt Milam took of at a break neck walk again, crossing the road and into a maze of roads and trails that intertwined the mix-match collection of structures on the opposite side. Eventually they arrived at a large dome and the Squad Sergeant plowed through the door, not breaking his pace. The inside looked exactly like what Rika imagined an alien doctor's office would look like. There were rows of chairs, a reception desk manned by a rather disgruntled looking rakkan wearing a grey uniform similar to her own but without the orange bars, and that it fit him. The drill instructor didn't stop. He didn't go to the desk, or even hesitate. Instead he flew down one of the hallways to the left of the reception desk, Bokkar and Rika almost running behind him. The hall looked like any other hall in a doctor's office, with doors off to either side, some open to exam rooms, others closed. He suddenly stopped at an open door, and Rika and Bokkar lined up behind him against the wall. He entered, muttered a few words to someone in the room they couldn't hear. Then stepped back from the doorway. A tall rakkan with red bars on his uniform poked his head out the door. He had immaculate white fur, with the exception of black tips on his ears.

[Ah yes, the human.] His eyes moved to Bokkar, [who the heck are you?]

[RECRUIT BOKKAR SIR!] she barked.

The white furred rakkan winced, [No yelling in the clinic, please. Why are you here?]

[This recruit has to hold Recruit Bendrin's hand sir.]

Squad Sergeant Milam whispered something in the white rakkan's ear, who nodded.

[Ah, right, I understand. Very well. I have them sir, you may go.]

The sergeant grunted and walked back towards the waiting room. The other rakkan, who she was starting to suspect was a doctor of some kind, waited until he had rounded a corner before continuing.

[I am what your kind would call a doctor. Did anyone tell you why you were here?]

Rika stared straight ahead, [No sir, this recruit was not told.]

The doctor groaned, [I know they don't want you to, but drop the third person while you are here. It drives me up the wall. You never finished your acceptance medical exam, though they were supposed to complete that to you aboard the Trisona, though it looks like they started it. We've had to modify it a bit and amend it to deal with your compatibility, but it should be similar to everyone else's. If you have any questions, just ask. Recruit Bokkar and I will do our best to explain everything we can.]

Rika fidgeted nervously. Even though her past two experiences were fairly mundane, she still didn't want anything to do with an alien medical department. Flashes from horror movies with people getting long needles stabbed in their eyes or other excruciating terrors crossed her mind before she was able to force them away. This was a civil race. Grenkle and the others had shown level headedness, kindness, and manners that surpassed most people on earth. She didn't feel like she was being forced here, even if she knew that she probably was. This was the military after all.

[Yes Sir,] she sighed.

The doctor nodded, [Good, follow me.]

He led them to an exam room a few doors down. He showed Rika to a padded, remarkably plain table before going back to the door.

[I'll be right back, just have to get a few things and the papers,] he said, gently closing the door behind him.

Rika stared at the ground, her mind blank and her body wanting explode down the hall and as far away from this hell as she could. There was a squeeze on her hand that surprised her. Bokkar was giving her the same look of concern she had once gotten from the dog at the foster home when she had fallen off her bike.

[What's wrong?]

[I'm scared of what's going to happen.]

[It's just a -----------, er, a health check.]

Rika nodded, and then explained. [On Earth, there are stories about people being kidnapped and experimented on by people from another planet.]

[That is horrible! Are they true?]

Rika shrugged, [I didn't think so before I learned about the Koaku. Now... Either way they make me keep think bad things.]

Bokkar gave a whining, groaning noise that the rakkan used to communicate sympathy. [That really --------. I know you don't know me very well, but I promise you we won't hurt you.]

[Thanks,] replied Rika, trying to muster a smile, [if you're anything like the rest of your kind I know I don't have to worry.]

Bokkar flicked her ears in a smile. Rika could hear her tail brush a little against the floor, [Thank-you.]

The door slide open with a hiss, the doctor pushing a small cart and holding a folder under his arm while staring at the same curious hand-held device that Grenkle used. He looked up as the door hissed closed behind him. His ears flicked slightly in a smile. [I'v never thought I'd have the pleasure to see one of your kind, let alone get to examine one! I have to say it's a pleasure to meet you.]

Rika shifted uneasily and glanced at the cart. To her surprise there was only a red, featureless strap on it with a thin cord that ran from the strap to were a couple yards of it coiled loosely and ended in a small plug. There were also four small things that Rika guessed were syringes even though they looked like pens covered in writing. No exam came without shots.

She tensed. Alien shots.

[Uh, what are you going to do?]

The doctor looked up from his PDA, [Nervous?] Rika nodded. He set the small computer down on the cart and picked up the red strap.

[I am going to make sure you are healthy, and that your body doesn't have any problems.]

"And shots," Rika added, using the english word.

[I'm sorry, I don't know any human. What are you trying to say?]

[They put uh, stuff to stay healthy, straight into the blood. Those things,] she motioned to the capped tubes, [you give them to people so their bodies can, uh, fight bad little animals that make you sick.]

The doctors eyes lit up, [Ah, you mean ------------. Yes, those too.]

He held up the strap. [Most of the exam is painless. I'm going to have you put this around your neck, and then I'm going to plug it into the computer,] he motioned to the PDA, [That will let me have a look at everything your body is doing. I can even show you.]

He handed her the strap, and she turned it over in her lap with a hand. It really was featureless. There was no sign of any way to fasten it closed, not even velcro. It was about as thick as a pencil and flexible, almost like two ply nylon webbing, only she couldn't see any fibers. The surface was, other than a cherry red, as featureless as if it were made from polished steel or new plastic. It was almost identical to the one she had worn on the ship, except the color was much darker and it had a cord attached.

[Uh, I just hold the ends together, right?] she asked, looking over either end.

[Just touch the two ends together around your neck, it will, uh, become one, like your uniform,] explained Bokkar, pointing to Rika's awkward fitting suit with her free hand. [Ok,] she replied.

Bokkar helped her put the strap on, Rika shivering a little when the band resized it's self down until it was gently touching her neck all the way around. The doctor plugged the cord into his PDA and began pressing buttons.

Bokkar leaned against the table next to Rika.

[I wish there was another chair in here,] she muttered.

Rika scooted over on the table and tugged on Bokkar's arm, [Come on, hop up.]

Bokkar slid onto the table. There was barely enough room for them to sit side-by side.

[Thanks.]

[No problem.]

The doctor turned the PDA around, showing it to the two recruits.

[Would you like to see what a human ------- -------- looks like?]

Rika looked at the screen. There were various line and bar graphs with strange writing around the edges of the screen, along with several things that kept flickering between two or three symbols. Underneath them though, was the crystal clear image of a valve opening and slamming shut. Clear, except the colors were all in shades of blue rather than the pink she expected of normal flesh.

[Is that MY heart?]

The valve quickened it's pace.

[Yes,] replied the doctor, [that's your -------- -------- .] He said the word again, pointing to her chest.

[Why is it blue?]

[It's using a different ---------- than light. So we can see with all your blood in the way.]

[Oh.]

[Everything looks ok, but the timing on that valve is a little bit off. That can be normal, but I need to make sure it's safe when your active.]

[Do you need me to run around or something?]

He laughed, [No, I can do that here.]

He took the PDA back and pressed a few more buttons. Rika suddenly felt her heart beating faster and faster and her breathing growing heavy.

[Wha, what's going on?] she gasped.

[Relax,] said Bokkar, squeezing her hand. [He is, um, speeding you up inside. You are safe.]

Rika felt like she was sprinting, though she was sitting still. After what felt like minutes she was getting tired. Her body was hot, and she could feel the muscles in her arms and legs growing warm as the blood flow increased to them. Her suit grew moist on the outside as she started to sweat.

[Uh, Bendrin, you are getting wet,] said Bokkar with concern, staring at the beads of water forming on Rika's face. Rika felt the rakkan's fingers move in her hand, feeling the moisture that was collecting.

[That is her body cooling its self,] assured the doctor. [We pant and sweat through our hands and feet, but she sweats all over. That's right, Bendrin?]

Rika nodded, wishing she was running so she could stop and sit down. The doctor showed her the PDA again. The valve was almost a blur, slamming open and closed so fast as the camera was buffeted by flowing blood. She nodded again, praying he would let her stop soon.

[Every thing looks fine,] he said cheerfully, taking the computer back.

[Stop... Please...] panted Rika.

[Yes yes, you'd like that. We'll start cooling you down.]

He pressed a few buttons and she felt her heart rate begin to slow again. It stopped at about what she would guess was a slow jog.

[Next we'll check your --------, your --------, --------- function, and your --------.]

Rika cocked her head in her best impression of a rakkan quizzical look.

[My?]

The doctor stared at Bokkar, as if to plea for help.

[Storage thing.] She chimed with a smile. [You have five of them around your body, you know what I mean.]

[No,] started Rika shaking her head, [No I don't -]

[Her kind only has one,] explained the doctor, [Well, one, but three sections all together.]

[Hmm,] said Bokkar, thinking. [They filter your blood and store stuff you need and process the stuff you don't.]

[Ok, I know what that is. What the next thing?]

Bokkar looked thoughtful for a while, then spoke, [they pull you away from danger without thinking.]

Reflexes. Rika nodded and she felt her heart rate drop to that of a brisk walk.

[The next is like the filter for your body. It takes stuff out and makes you have to, um, make water.]

[I know the word urine,] smiled Rika, [but go on, what's next.]

[Uh, we can use the ----- to see everything you are feeling, especially pain, so he knows were to look for problems. Like if your arm hurt, he could see exactly which ----- it was that was sending a pain ----------. You might know the back of your arm hurt, but he can see exactly where in the back of your arm was hurting, better than you could.]

[Right,] said Rika, [I don't know if I understand that completely, but I think I get the general idea.]

Rika felt her heart rate drop again, her breathing quickly returning to resting. The sweat was evaporating quickly in the dry air, make her feel cold as goosebumps rose on her skin.

The doctor nodded and started pressing buttons on the PDA again and writing on some of the papers. Bokkar noticed Rika's goosebumps and was fascinated by them.

[What's that?] she asked, pointing to Rika's hand.

[I'm cold,] she replied, [my body is trying to use what little fur I have to stay warm.]

[Your body is so cool.]

Rika just rolled her eyes, [not really. My own sweat is making me cold.]

[I'm about to test your reflexes,] interrupted the doctor, [I need your --------- system to be quiet, so please lay back and try to relax.]

Rikka laid back. Bokkar stared down at her, her ears in a smile.

[These are always so funny to watch.]

[Why is tha-] started Rika, but she didn't finish. Her jaw twitched open as if she had bitten into something too hot. Bokkar giggled as Rika's neck twitched, then her shoulders, the tick strong enough to make her hands fly off the table.

[UH] grunted Rika as her chest and abs contracted suddenly, sending Bokkar almost into flat out laughter.

[I'm sorry,] she giggled, [I can't help it.]

Rika's wrists snapped back, then she felt her hands contract.

[YIPE!] cried Bokkar, attempting to jerk her hand out of Rika's involuntary grip. [Shave me you have a strong grip!]

[Sorry,] Rika giggled as her hips twitched, then her knees. [I couldn't help it.]

[Slow but strong,] winked the doctor, [you'll have trouble keeping up on runs until you're through it.]

Rika groaned, imagining herself and Bokkar running far behind the group getting screamed at by the Combat Instructors as Bokkar frantically tried to get her to run faster. Just then her foot gave one last twitch and she saw the doctor put the PDA down to write.

[Am I done flopping around on the table?]

[Yes,] said the white rakkan, [you may sit up.]

[Aww,] growled Bokkar, [it was so fun though...]

Rika gently squeezed Bokkar's hand, making her jump. She laughed. Bokkar flicked her ears back in embarrassment, then out in a smile. [Ok, we're even.]

That sat in silence for a few more minutes as the doctor ran his tests, writing things down and pressing buttons. Rika sat staring at her hands while the past weeks since her arrest replayed over in her mind. Bokkar looked in thought, and snapped Rika back to the present when she spoke.

[Why do your reflexes have you move so hard?]

Rika imitated a rakkan cock of her head to try and indicate confusion, [What do you mean?]

[You nearly crushed my hand when he was testing your reflexes, and I saw the rest of your arms moving a lot too. Why do you move as hard as you can?]

[I didn't, I just twitched.]

Bokkar looked at the ground, her ears slowly folding. Rika didn't know this expression, but she guessed it wasn't good. Apparently the doctor knew, and was paying attention, because he interjected.

[She's not lying, Recruit Bokkar. Humans come from a family of animals that are tree climbers, where as we come from runners. You'll notice that you're built much lighter and faster than she is, but she is much stronger in her arms and hands. If she had actually squeezed your hand hard she would have very likely broken it.]

Recruit Bokkar looked her over with interest. Rika saw her pay especially close attention to her arms and hands, and then to her legs.

[That would explain why you have tree legs,] she said.

Finally the strap released from her neck, flopping into her lap. Rika looked up as the doctor moved to collect it.

[Done?] she asked.

He nodded, [With the -------, yes. Just the part everyone hates left.]

Rika looked at Bokkar, tilting her head to the side. [--------?] she asked.

[Health check,] she explained.

[Ah.]

The doctor was playing with a small ninety-degree flashlight, similar to that which Agner had used on the ship, blinking a small square of light on his hand pad.

[I need you to roll down the top half of your uniform.]

Rika looked and the "pens" on the table and nodded. She fingered the collar of her suit for a moment before turning to Bokkar.

[I can't,] she said, waving her fingers, [Nothing fits in the hole.]

Bokkar chuckled and reached up with a claw. Rika felt the suit release and wiggled her arms out of the sleeves.

"I hate shots..." she muttered in english.

[What?] replied Bokkar and the doctor at the same time.

[I don't like getting stabbed,] Rika repeated.

[No one does,] said the doctor, [but I think you'll find our needles much smaller than yours. You probably won't even feel it.]

Rika finished rolling down her uniform, feeling naked as a draft washed over her exposed body. The doctor shone the light on her right shoulder for a few moments before he set the device down, picked up the pen and pulled the cap off, exposing the needle.

[Wait!] cried Rika, a bad feeling rising in her gut, [What is that?]

The doctor stood there blankly for a second, then looked to Bokkar.

[Uh, it's, er, stuff that keeps you from getting ill... A preventative.]

[Preventative for what? What kind of ill causer... uh, small... ARGH! I hate not knowing words!!]

The doctor flattened his ears and looked to either side, [I don't think there is any way to say what it is so you can understand.]

Rika stared at the ground, defeated, [I know, just get it over with.]

She heard the pen set back on the tray and looked up.

[Aren't you going to give it to me?]

The doctor smiled, [Our needles are small. I already gave it.]

He picked up the light again and lifted her arm to feel around in her armpit with a gloved hand. She squirmed when he found a lymph node. He shone the light on the area and she watched as he stuck the second pen into the node. It hurt this time, but only deep within her armpit.

[The same thing?] she inquired, unable to ignore the disturbed feeling.

[Nope,] replied the doctor, [This is to prepare your, erm, ah, killing parts in your blood. It translates the white ones in preparation.]

Adrenalin flooded into her system. Rika felt like she was undergoing another stress test, her heart began pounding and she felt sweat forming on her brow again.

[WHAT? Translating what?! What are you doing to my immune system? Prepare for what? What's in that third needle?]

[They didn't tell you?]

"Tell me what?!" she yelled in english, "What the fuck is going on?!"

[Calm down Rika,] begged Bokkar, [we haven't tried to hurt you yet, and we arn't going to now.] Rika bit her lip and stared at the ground, trying to calm herself. Her heart pounded in her chest, and he brain wouldn't stop screaming that something was wrong. Bokkar watched Rika a few seconds before giving the doctor a stern look, [Now then, the doctor is going to explain exactly what he is doing, right?]

The doctor nodded uneasily. Past experience also taught him that enlisted troops were a little off-center mentally at best, and formed strong friendships quickly. He didn't know if that applied to humans or even recruits for that matter, but he was out numbered and out matched. He began explaining quickly, mostly to Bokkar, what he was doing. Rika didn't understand most of what was said. The words were technical and spoken quickly, though she could make out something to do with "adaptability" and "body" and "compatibility". When the doctor finished speaking he sat on the counter-top, massaging his forehead while waiting for the black furred rakkan to translate everything to her friend. Bokkar didn't look up at her, but stared at the floor as if in thought. Her ears appeared to be sharing conflict with some cognitive part of her; torn back and forth between full forward and laying back. When she did speak it was slow, as if labored by thought.

[Rika,] she began, [you didn't understand any of that, did you?]

Rika shook her head, [something about body and compatible. That's it.]

Bokkar didn't look up from the floor, but her ears indicated that she troubled, laying flat against her head. [I thought so.]

She stared at the floor a few more moments in silence. When she looked up the normal spark of cheerfulness that had first occupied her expression in the office was gone. Replacing it was a solemn sincerity that looked her human friend in the eye and didn't flinch. Rika got the quiet feeling of power looking in her eyes, like that of a mountain or granite cliff. [I don't know how to explain this to you so you will understand. You just don't know the words, and I don't know how to teach them to you. I don't know any of your language that might help, or how much you know about science to try and explain everything. But I don't want to try and lead you wrong by mistake, either.] She paused, her ears flicking once before returning back along her skull. She blinked a few times, but never looked away. [You need to trust me, Rika'. This is going to seem scary, but you will be fine. Your body is going to change a little, but you,] she touched Rika's temple with a claw, [in here, the real you will be the same. Do you understand?]

Understand? She thought; her over taxed adrenal gland attempting to dump whatever it had left into her system. I understand I am going to change. I could just stop having my period, or it might be something as drastic as turning into a giant lamprey! WHAT THE HELL? IS RANDOM FORCED TRANSFORMATION NORMAL HERE?

Rika glared at her, [I understand you are going to change my body in a way you can't, or won't, describe. Why?]

Bokkar looked in thought for a second, her brow furrowed. [You are not compatible with our equipment, our weapons, and most of our medicine. In this body you would need special everything. Just look at your uniform,]

Rika followed Bokkar's motioning hand down to her ill fitting uniform to her bare feet. Recruit Bokkar continued, [What would happen if there was an accident, and the only thing we had was rakkan medicine? There would be nothing we could do without risking killing you. Not to mention if you ever needed new uniforms it would take ages to get it. You need this.]

They were making her one of them, or at least something close. By their logic and technology it was far easier to make her fit their civilization than the other way around. Rika knew the rakken by her side was right. If she was going to be in a dangerous job she would need to be able to be treated if she was injured.

[So, what, I'll be a half human, half rakkan? Is it reversible?]

Bokkar suddenly perked up and smiled. [Both of my parents were not born rakkan, and further from it than you are. Yet here I am. I don't just look rakkan; I am rakkan, and so are my parents. People can only guess my heritage by my unusual fur pattern.]

[And it can be reversed?]

Recruit Bokkar looked at the doctor, who shrugged.

[Rakkan use something similar when visiting other planets who haven't had contact yet, and they can change back. For people like you and my parents though... I don't know.]

She looked Bokkar in the eye again: [I will be okay? My mind will not change?]

Bokkar smiled, [On my honor, you will be the same Rika I speak to now.]

Rika bit her lip, feeling like she was about to jump into a cold swimming pool. She could feel the goosebumps rising on her arms and her body felt chilled just thinking about it. Well, cold really. Over the past few minutes the room seemed to be growing colder, and now it was down right bone-chilling. If she didn't know better, she would have thought she was growing a fever. She was even starting to shiver.

Finally she bit the bullet and gave in, just as Bokkar opened her mouth as if to say something.

[I trust you.]

She turned to the doctor to give him the ok, but found him putting the cap back on the third pen.

[What?!]

He shrugged, [You said you trusted her. You were running a fever. Indicating that your immune system was reacting to your body, starting to attack it. I couldn't wait much longer.]

[I didn't have a choice, did I?]

[You did,] replied Bokkar, standing up, [you could have died if you had wished.]

[And you would have let me?]

[If that had been your choice, yes. I would have made sure you knew it was going to happen before it was too late... I was about to tell you.]

Rika was about to reply, but the ominous figure of their Combat Instructor appeared in the doorway. Quickly she slipped back into her uniform, grabbed Bokkar's hand and stood as the doctor explained something to him quietly.

---

There was the familiar growl as engine one came online and Scout watched the engine parameters for a moment to ensure they were stable and where the should be. She cleared the warning from the master caution light and went back to her checklist. The digital display indicators (or DDIs as they were known) flickered in the cockpit and she smacked the instrument panel more out of reflex and habit than anything, -they were back on before her hand even made contact. The master caution light came on again, and she frowned as she saw the flight control fault codes start to display on the opposite DDI. She pulled up the self test menu and started looking for the one she wanted. "Uh, Scout, we have a problem." Said Echo from the back seat. "I know, trying to clear it with a BIT before getting a troubleshooter." She replied. "No," he said. There was unease in his voice. Not good.

"Well?" She shot back, signaling to the Plane Captain and waiting for him to repeat it before initiating test. The Super Hornet jerked and bounced slightly as the computer moved the controls in it's preprogrammed test.

"We don't have any transmitting or receiving."

"Both radios?"

"I mean on anything. No radios, no satcom, no radar, no ALQ, no TACAN, nothing! It's like were sitting in a glorified Sopworth Camel! At least the damn targeting pod works... for once."

A few more seconds of jostling from the jerking flight controls and the fault code cleared. "FCS is good. Still no go on everything back there."

"It's FUBAR Scout, calling a troubleshooter," he said, making a "T" with his hands before holding out a single finger out sideways. The plane captain nodded before turning around and repeating the signal. It wasn't long before a technician in green jogged over and plugged his comset into the front of the jet.

"Good evening sir, what is the issue?"

"All transmitting and receiving is down on everything. I-"

"Goddamnit."

"-Excuse me?"

"Sorry sir. The whole ship is experiencing the same thing. The last three aircraft all had the same problem, and we couldn't clear it. I see four more plane captains calling for com/nav, and there's a swarm of technicians running around the ships displays."

"#All aircraft shutdown immediately#" The accent was strong enough to stand a spoon up in. Eve tried her best to place it. It was very guttural, but definitely not German. Russian? No. Norwegian? Perhaps, but it didn't fit what she had heard. Icelandic maybe? What did that sound like anyway?

"Well that worked." Said Echo, snapping her back to reality.

She keyed the mic: "Identify yourself."

Static. It was strange that nobody else was making the same demand. Then again, maybe they were, and like herself all they heard was static.

"We're being jammed." Said Echo. "On a secure net, on our own fucking ship, we are being jammed. That should be impossible! What the fuck is going on?!"

"#Final warning. All aircraft shut down. Carrier group cease travel and remain still.#"

"Who the hell is this?" Said Scout, swallowing the icy tendrils of fear as they crept up her. Echo was right. It should be impossible. "Identify yourself!"

Below the plane captain frantically began drawing his hand across his throat; the signal to "kill it" or shut down. She frowned and glanced up at the tower. To her surprise the air boss was leaning out, frantically screaming something and giving the same motion with his hand. She cut throttles, and sat in the dark cockpit as the engines wound down. By the time she opened the canopy the flight deck was quiet except for the hushed conversations of aircrew and deck personal. She didn't wast any time heading in: she could tell by the air boss's actions that any real information would be coming down from inside the ship, not along the outside of it. Echo followed at her heels, uncharacteristically silent. "Do not undress, ma'am and sir. Go straight to the ready room. Skippers orders." She had barely made it through maintenance control's hatch before the maintenance chief had begun talking.

"Thank you, Senior Chief." She replied, turning and walking across the maintenance control office to the second hatch. "Oh shit," muttered Echo.

"Can it Ech-" She stopped suddenly, the hatch wide open. The ready room was packed. Every officer in the unit was there, some in full flight gear like herself, others not, and more than a few looking like they had just hit the rack when they were called back in. Most were talking in groups, making the already cramped room seem that much smaller and stifling. "Everyone sit down!" boomed a voice that could only belong to the Maintenance Officer, or MO. "Skipper and ex-oh should be back any minute." There was a brief clamor as officers hurried to sit down, some trying to squeeze in with bulky gear. She managed to slide in a seat from one end. Echo squeezed in next to her. They didn't stay there long. "Attention on-" "SIT DOWN"

They were half way up already and promptly dropped back into their seats. The Squadron commander walked to the front of their room and nodded to the Ops. Officer, who closed and locked the ready room hatch. The commander looked over the room.

"Where is Ruffles?" He asked.

"Duty." Someone said. It sounded like Gomer.

The CO gave a hint of a smile. "Good." There was a quiet chuckle from the room, but it quickly ran cold as the commander rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Alright. As those of you who were just on the flight deck know, someone is jamming the ever living dog shit out of us, and demanding we cease all operations." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Including all vessel movement. The simplified transmission we received was something along the lines of 'Stop everything or we'll shut you down and stop you ourselves.' While our pilots were probably demanding the voice calling for them to shut down identify themselves the vessel was doing much the same. After no identification was given, the captain told the jammer to go, and I quote, 'Eat a hepatitis shit sandwich' (don't tell anyone I passed that on) and then the entire ship promptly lost power until the bridge gave in and completely cut throttles. "

"Holy shit," muttered Echo, "that's impossible."

The CO nodded. "They're still trying to figure out how they did it. And they obviously knew that without power we don't have ventilation below, and on a ship this size that can be lethal. The skipper is determining if they had inside help, and in the mean time we are in an alert status. We will be rotating an eight hour shift of a flight of pilots, geared up and ready to go at a moment's notice. MO, maintenance will go as usual, but nothing happens to my alert aircraft to change status. You can all be assured the moment we get out from under this bull every free bird we have will be going up to give us some eyes and a full mouth of fangs. Questions?" Echo's hand shot up and the commander shot him a cold look. It didn't phase him. "Sir, what about the rest of the battle group sir? No help?" "We had to break out the damn signal lamp to find out, but they are all under the same duress: dead in the water with no comm." He looked around the silent room for a moment.

"Alright then," he said, "those of you on tonight's sorties have first alert. ODO will have the roster posted right after the OPS-O has it to my office. Carry on, and not a damn word." He added, pointing to the Operations Officer by the door as he opened the door to walk out. The room immediately erupted in noise as people started talking. "C'mon," said Echo, "-maintenance control. The A/C doesn't have to work as hard." He added with a nod to all the talking officers. Scout caught Spark's eye across the room and he nodded, starting to make his way through the gaggle of yammering officers.

Six hours later found them still leaning on counters and sitting on the occasional free chair, shooting shit with the night check desk chief. A plane captain came in from the flight deck and began to sign off the daily and durn around inspection on one of the alert aircraft. Chief looked at the plane captain, then at the clock, then back at the plane captain. "Damn Hudser, I hope you didn't rush that job. It only took you four fucking hours." "Sorry chief," AD3 Hudser said, not looking up from where we was writing in the logbook. "I was done a long time ago, but AE3 Ortiz said he saw something over the ship, so a bunch of us were watching it trying to figure it out if it had anything to do with all the radar going down and the power acting weird." "They let you stand around on the flight deck and star gaze." Said the Chief, his voice saying he clearly was not buying it. "Oh no Chief. We all hid between the vert stabs on aircraft two oh..." He trailed off as he looked up and noticed the circle of officers watching him for the first time. "...Four." He finished before muttering "Shit" under his breath. "You saw something?" asked Scout with alert interest. "It was nothing ma'am. Just looked like heat waves from the ship refracting light." Scout stood up from where she had been leaning against a cabinet and said the words every junior petty officer dreaded hearing: "Show me." "Yes ma'am." She grabbed her gear bag and pulled her helmet onto her head. "I'll be on two zero four if they call the alert chief. Sparks. Echo." "We'll pass the word if someone comes looking." Said Sparks." She gave a nod and followed the Plane Captain through the passage ways to the flight deck.

It was a beautiful night. Pleasantly cool, but not the bitter cold they had known over the past few nights. There was a slight breeze, the occasional lap of the water and noise of a mechanic working were the only breaks in the stillness. Above them there wasn't a cloud in the sky: a fantastic display of the cosmos spilled out across the black expanse. They arrived at Buno 204, an aging "F" model super hornet tucked aft of the tower. AD3 scrambled up the ladder and walked down the cobra-hood shaped extension, or LEX as they called it, to the mid section. Eve climbed a bit slower; she was encumbered by her flight gear; and stopped when she reached the top of the ladder. Normally the canopy was up, exposing the hand hold that she normally used. Now the canopy was closed, and instead of the handhold she was used to the bulbous form of the canopy threatened to push her off the curved LEX should she try and scramble up. Ignoring the amused look on the Plane Captain's face she attempted several different hand placements before settling on one, gritting her teeth, and hoisting herself up. Carefully she got to her feet, and looked at the Plane Captain, who had restored the poker face often used when dealing with officer. She smiled. "You guys make that look a lot easer with the canopy down than it is." The corners of his mouth twitched. "Lots of practice ma'am." She nodded and followed him to the back of the aircraft. There was a group of about five maintainers, all of which started to stand at the sight of her. She held a finger to her lips and motioned for them to sit down. "As you were. I just wanted to get away from all the hot air and bullshit." She sat on an empty spot in between a rudder and an uneasy looking airframer. She relaxed against the vertical and let out a sigh. "No wonder you guys sleep back here! This is pretty comfortable!" "Even better when the engines are running, ma'am." AD2 Bickley said. "It's warm and acts just like a massage chair. The noise even drowns everything else out." She gave a short laugh. "I'll have to try it sometime. AE3 Ortiz, I'm told you saw something above the ship?" "Yes ma'am. I still do." "Where is it? I'd like to see it please." The electrician got to his feet, took the two steps over to the officer and dropped to one knee. "Do you see the bowl of the big dipper there?" he said, pointing to the sky. She recognized the constellation and nodded. "I do." "Now look at the stars just above and below it." "Alright." She said, not seeing anything different. "Now follow that narrow band directly towards the stern. Just look at the stars." She did. There was an area towards the aft of the ship that seemed to get a little dimmer, but as the plane captain said; it could be distorted due to the heat waves of the ship. "Alright AE3, but I don't see anything except where they get dim towards the aft. That could be due to the ship's heat-" "I know ma'am, but keep in mind where that dimness starts. Let me know when you've memorized it." "I have it." She said, starting to feel like the enlisted half were simply making a fool of her. "Now walk from fuselage to where the wing folds, watching that spot." She looked at him, almost sure he was simply trying to make her look like a fool. "OH! Are you showing her the spot?" Eve leaned forward to see AE1 McGonigle climbing up onto the LEX. "Check this out Ma'am. Its wild. Did they say anything about it in the pilot pow-wow?" "No," she said, climbing to her feet, "but that doesn't mean they don't know anything about it." She had worked with AE1 long enough to know he was a no-bullshit sailor and wouldn't tolerate his subordinates playing games in this manner. She walked to where the fuselage met the left wing. She looked up at the group of stars she had memorized and walked to the left while looking at them. They maintained their brightness, and shifted subtly in odd and all directions. "What the fuck." She muttered, half under he breath. "Exactly." Said AE3 Ortiz. "I'm glad you see it too." She began systematically picking groups of stars around that cluster and making the same walk, noting which ones changed and which ones did not. She spent about twenty minutes walking back and forth until someone interrupted her. "Determining size and shape, ma'am?" asked AE1. "You've got it." She replied. "AE3, get me a clipboard with blank pieces of paper on it. Keep track of the Lieutenant's findings however she wants." "Aye AE1." The sailor was gone before she saw him leave. When he returned with the pad she drew a short sketch of what she knew, and together they finished the outline, complete with reference stars. It was about another hour before they finished the drawing. The sun was just starting to rise. "It looks kind of like a dagger." She said. "Or an old SR-17 with the engines lopped off." She nodded in agreement. "I'd say so." She looked up noticed the tail of an aircraft moving past, nosing towards the fantail. She frowned. "He's going to have trouble turning that around." AE1 popped up the ladder again with a grin. "He's exactly how he should be." He said. She raised an eyebrow. "The boss okay'd a move like that?" "He okay'd this one." He replied with a wink. "That's the highest person that knows, and we should keep it that way ma'am. Please feel privileged." She narrowed her eyes. "This is an enlisted F.M. Project, isn't it?" "Indeed. The brains in Com/Nav think they have a way to get around the jamming and are going to test fire off the back to see if they can get a peak without our invisible friend-" he pointed skyward, "-from interfering. She nodded, letting a smile creep onto her lips. "I guess I should just relax back here on the tail of my alert bird, since there isn't anything going on over at the fan tail. It's boring up here, but after all there is fresh air. I really wish there was something to look at or know about so I could have the pleasure of reporting it up to make myself look better." AE1 nodded. "I'll let you know when things become less boring so you can look for something to report ma'am." "Thank you, first class." And with that the petty officer climbed down the ladder again and she made her way to the tail and resumed sitting between the verts. To the east the sun was beginning to make it's daily journey across the sky. Off the stern of the ship she could just make out the flare of orange cloud against purple skies. She heard voices just out of her field of vision, and after a few minutes the kick and scream of the ground cooling fan as ground electrical power was turned on in a jet. Less than a minute later two large, flat objects could be seen, flying towards them at a mind blowing speed. Fear churned her stomach as her mind immediately jumped to flying saucers, -they certainly didn't fly like aircraft. Not at that low altitude. The air was torn apart around her and skin was slapped by heat as there were two flashes from right above her. Something black was suddenly there and flashed off towards where the saucers, now falling debris, had been. Several other black streaks darted away against the glowing horizon, likely from the other ships. A streak curving from the sky caused her to look up. A swarm of hornets was descending upon the earth. At least that's what it looked like. Black, sleek objects could be seen pouring into the atmosphere from all over, twisting and curving from the chaos into what she recognized were flight packages and vectors. She was suddenly cold. Whatever they were, they weren't from Earth. Beside her Smith, a young flight equipment sailor hugged his knees to his chest as he stared at the swarm. "We are so fucked." "Damn the torpedoes," she said, "If we're going to go, make them take everything we can dish them first." She got up and walked to the cockpit. The canopy was already raising and she saw Echo walking out with a smile on his face. She pointed to the sky, his eyes followed, and he dropped his helmet bag. The plane captain, a young marine, was stone faced. "Ready Corporal?" she asked, nodding towards the mess above them. He nodded. "As much as I will be. I wish I was on DET with Staff Sergeant Owens... Lucky bastard. At least I'd have my rifle." She tried her best to smile. Gallows humor. "With the time difference... he's probably playing darts at Patty Mac's with a beer in his hand."

---

Sanders crouched against the shattered brick wall, fighting every instinct he had to breath. Above him he could still hear the loud, piercing hum of the skinny's ship from where it hovered. Less than twenty yards from the other side of the wall a group of the aliens were forming a defensive perimeter as more of the ground troops were disembarking. To his right, Staff Sergeant Owens was plastered to the wall as well, ever so carefully peaking around the corner to spy on the aliens. On the other side of Sanders the remainder of his platoon remained frozen, clutching their weapons with eyes on their leader. Owens motioned for his team to slowly get ready, the time for their suicide mission approaching. The team silently complied, creeping the SABER missile into position so that it peaked above the edge of the wall. Sanders readied the targeting sights. *** Across the street a strange looking figure accompanied a human crouched behind the battered ridge of a rooftop two stories up. [I don't get it,] Said Matt. [They'll be wasted by that company. Hell, it'll be luck if they even deal a few bruises.] He was tapped on the shoulder by a clawed finger. "Hmm" [Look down here,] whispered Grenkle, pointing to the side of the building that bordered a small side street. Matt cautiously peeked over the edge, Below five figures wearing Marine Corps camouflage were contained in a hole that was easily twenty feet wide and the width of the street. It was hard to guess the depth from his vantage point, but it was at least twice the height of the tallest. He swore. [They can't leave them behind. I'll go let the others know and go get our extended kit. We'll probably need it.] Genkle nodded, [I like how they are defending trapped men to the end. He's a good leader.] His voice changed slightly as he closed his mask and called on the secure channel [#Swab, this is weasel. We need-#] [#Already enrout weasel. Transport is in sight aaaand lock.#]

***

Suddenly the troop transport ship's door slammed closed and it zipped away from them, vanishing over the crest of the ridge that bordered the Okinawan town. Owens stared, dumbfounded. Skinny ships never acted like this, they always had at least twenty or thirty more troops on board, and they always stuck around for at least a little while afterwards to give them time to find cover. Something dark flashed over head, followed seconds later by a shock-wave that shook the ground and threatened to topple the rest of the wall onto themselves. Suddenly there was a brilliant flash, followed by another deafening boom. Owens could see a cloud in the sky where something had blown up, but it appeared to have come from nowhere. The Skinnys were upset about something as well, shifting about uneasily in there perimeter as if they were unsure about what to do. Half of them were staring at the sky, then looking at each other. Of those on the perimeter, most seemed to be uneasily scanning the surrounding rubble, slowly back up. If they were going to do anything, now was the time.

"NOW!"

Owens was still yelling "W!" as the SABER streaked off, shaking him violently with a deafening boom. Shortly following it were the orange streaks of the fifty caliber; every third round a tracer as the gunner walked it in. The world smothered to silence. The missile seemed to be crawling through the air, and he wondered briefly how it was staying airborn. Around him he could see aliens running, raising their weapons and jumping, all in slow motion. Time had slammed on it's brakes, and was sluggishly sliding forward. In front of him the SABER collided with something (or someone) in the crowd of aliens, sending bodies flying as the explosion ripped the group open. Chaos immediately reversed it's flow, as limbs began bursting, head-sized holes appearing in skinny torsos and alien bodies shook. To his right he could barely hear, feel more than anything, the low thug-thug-thug of Sanchez's fifty cal. The massive machine gun had always stopped the skinnies, but it had never penetrated the invulnerable suit their infantry wore. Skinnies were diving for cover behind the rubble, but aside from a few panicked, unaimed shots no fire had been returned. One of the skinnies was slow to move, and Owens shifted slightly, sending a hammered pair into what he guessed was a vital area. The alien flinched, but the bullets simply fell to the ground from where they had hit. Then there was a flash, and everything above it's waist was gone, as if it had simply vanished into thin air. He shifted again to find another skinny that hadn't found cover, when it burst in front of him, collapsing in a puddle of dark purple goo and shattered space suit. It was as if suit and creature had instantly and spontaneously melted.

He hadn't even pulled the trigger.

Looking up from his sights, he began to see the same phenomena repeating across the field. Skinnies would just up and vanish, usually with a piece of the landscape. Others would flash-melt, splattering into a pile on the ground. The remainder seemed to only have large holes blown in them, through their seemingly impenetrable suit. Something caught his attention from the corner of his eye, and he momentarily glanced over at his men.

There were others. Scattered intermittently between his Marines were bizarre looking figures, crouched behind the cover of the wall as they fired equally bizarre looking weapons. They were covered head to toe in nearly featureless flat grey suits, which extended up and over their heads. Like the Skinnies their faces were covered, but instead of the typical white, skull-esque mask, these wore glossy, featureless hoods that curved out and narrowed in the front, giving them the appearance that they had an almost dog-like muzzle. Owens snapped back to the combat in front of him. They weren't fighting his marines, yet, so his main threat was still from the front. Ahead of him, one of the Skinnies was leaning out from behind a concrete traffic barricade. In his hands was a large, long silver cylinder that he was pointing towards him. Owens squeezed off a single round from his rifle before someone slammed into him, ripping him to the ground towards his men. Time caught up, rapidly. Sulfur burned his nose, and he could feel the heat from the muzzle of his rifle, less than an inch from his face. Gravel stabbed into his hands where they were sandwiched underneath him and his rifle. He tried to spin over; off his stomach, but the figure was gripping his upper arms and laying on top of him, pushing him to the ground. From his awkward position on the ground he could see fingers from one of the hands around his arm. A short claw on the end of four fingers, all covered by a seamless, flat grey material. After what seemed like an hour there was a deafening *SMACK* behind him. The person finally rolled off of him, and Owens lifted himself onto a side to see who had tackled him. It was one of the mysterious arrivals, the smooth grey material interrupted only by the glossy, muzzled mask. Looking back at his position he could see the wall. It was laid out in a scattering of finely crushed bricks and mortar scattered across the road behind them. "Thanks," he coughed to the figure. It nodded once, then looked down at it's feet. Owens wasn't sure how they were supposed to look -the odd shapes and angles were definitely foreign to him- but one leg was shorter than the other, and brilliantly red blood was beginning to run over the dusty concrete. The figure gripped his leg, slowing the blood flow. He ripped the velcro open at the base of his flak jacket and frantically ripped out his belt. Sliding over to the wounded figure he reached for their bleeding stump. The mysterious person kept their grip on the leg, but lifted their arms, allowing him to slip the belt around their leg. Snatching an empty magazine from his pouch, he slid it under the buckle before tightening it down. The figure released their leg, and snatched the end of the belt, wrapping it and additional time around their leg before gripping the empty magazine and twisting it. The belt tightened around the leg, and the person reposition their hands, turning the magazine until the bleeding stopped. Dipping his finger in the blood on the ground, Owens hastily wrote the time on the figure's thigh. "JUST HOLD THAT," he shouted over the gunfire. The figure nodded and crouched, hands on the magazine. Owens didn't need to see their face to know they had to have been in pain.

Crawling back to the wall he popped back over the crest, scanning the scene. A single alien crawled out from behind a shattered cinder block wall, gripping a blocky microwave cannon. Instantly there was the rattling sound of gunfire from eight M-16's and the fifty caliber before a large portion of it's chest erupted out of the back of it's suit, the rest of the body crumpling to the ground. Back behind the wall his men were still focused on the battle field in front of them. The occasional BAT-BAT as they issued their usual "Insurance Policy" on anything that might not be all the way dead.

One didn't take chances with skinnies.

One of the hooded figures was running towards him, waving a textbook-sized pouch. Owens looked back at the person who had tackled him earlier squeezing their leg with both hands, nodding at the running figure. There was a shout, and Owens looked up. One of his marines had seen the running figure and was yelling at it to stop, taking aim with his rifle. Owens screamed at him to hold his fire, jumping to his feet and launching himself to get between the rifle and the strange figure he recognized as bringing help to his injured savior. The marine was too focused on his target to see him though. The rifle cracked, and Owens felt the heat on his face before smacking into something behind him. Owens fell to the ground before scrambling to his feet again, waving his arms and screaming at the top of his lungs.

"CEASE FIRE, CEASE FIRE!!"

Several of the mysterious fighters took the opportunity to move forward through the rubble, weapons raised, looking for survivors. His marines were beginning to notice the newcomers, and appeared to be rather uneasy of the situation, but they lowered their weapons slightly and looked at him.

"Burns!," he shouted, "WHAT THE FUCK! YOU NEARLY KILLED ME!"

"Sorry Staff Sergeant," he said quickly, "I thought he was a-"

"THEY JUST WASTED A FUCKING COMPANY OF SKINNIES! I DON'T GIVE A FUCK IF THEY'RE STALIN'S UNDEAD ARMY, DON'T. FUCKING. SHOOT. THEM! GODDAMNIT BURNS, FIRST HERNANDEZ THEN ME- I SWEAR YOUR GOING TO GET US MURDERED BY OUR OWN TEAM BEFORE THE SKINNIES DO! IF ITS NOT A SKINNY, DON'T KILL IT TILL IT SHOOTS AT US, EVERYONE HEAR THAT?"

There was a correlation of nods and "Yes Staff Sergeant."

"Good. Who needs doc?"

Before anyone could answer the grey clad figure that had been running with the pouch briskly walked up to Burns. There was a copper colored smear on the forehead of his face shield. It reached a clawed finger underneath it's chin, and a seam formed a around the glossy mask; encircling it's face from above the brow and down the side before running forward along the base of the mask's snout before returning along a similar rout on the other side. The figure then reached up and lifted the mask, swinging it up like a welder's helmet. Inside, a snarling muzzle came before angry green eyes. Fur covered the dog-like face, sweeping back in a reddish brown from it's black nose before fading into a light grey at the eyes and cheeks. It loomed over Burns, who stared up in fear, finally figuring out the group responsible for the liquefying of the Skinnies. The canine-faced figure moved, and Burns's flinched. A clawed index finger ended an outstretched arm as it pointed at the marine on the ground. Owens was surprised and shocked, so much so that for a few moments he just stood there, staring.

"RAGRASH MOGU DO RAGMANHAS! GOMA NAHA EHU? ETSH? ONI? HONU KUBA! GOKAWA RO RAGRASH?"

"Agner," came a voice. Nobody payed attention.

The figure stooped lower, and to Burns's credit he didn't move, though the terror was evident on his face. A clawed finger jabbed into his chest as the creature continued chewing his ass.

"Agner!"

Owens finally collected himself and interrupted.

"SOHI NE WAL PETVA! SKOKI-"

"HEY MOTHERFUCKER, WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" Owens screamed, shoving the two legged dog to the side and positioning himself in between it as his men.

"AGNER," shouted a low voice to the side. He turned to see the injured person who had saved his life sitting up, their mask up as well. This one shared the same canine features but was jet black save for a light grey blaze than ran between it's eyes. It's expression was relaxed, and Owen wondered just how large a dose of painkillers it had just received. "His Commander has already made him vary clear on his mistake. 'ut yourself in their 'osition for a second before you start biting faces. These are MARINES Agner. You of all 'eo'le should know we don't wan' a conflict with them. An' fer fuck's sake, use english. Owens," She added, turning back to the Staff Sergeant, "thank-you for the use of your belt." It held up his belt, the blood drying in it's nylon weave. Looking down he saw a dark blue cap over the end of the creature's severed leg. He reached over and took his belt back.

"Cut it." He said, fishing his belt back through it's loops. "I need answers, and I need 'em fast. Your group here mopped up a company of skinnies like they were a handful fire ants while we've barely been able to scratch them using our heavy stuff. To kick it, you're obviously not human, so what gives? Quickly! We can't afford to be trusting or wast time."

"Bar," it replied, "Com'any Sargent. 'Is is my, well, part of my unit. Com'any Sargent Genkle has the other half across the street providing cover and heavy support.'"

"So," he continued, not comfortable with letting this person know the frugal handful of Marines he had were everyone left. "The two inevitable questions. Who that fuck are you all, and what the fuck are you doing here? No wool over my eyes, your group here mopped up a company of skinnies like they were a handful fire ants. We've barely been able to break a few threads on their uniform."

He extended his hand, and Bar took it, hoisting herself up on her good leg.

"Thank you. We are the Rakkan." Bar explained, "We are here to assist Earth in repelling the Koaku. A handful of us have been here a while, hidden, observing and researching your s'ecies and the rest that inhabit the 'lanet. I'm not 'rivileged to details, but in the past that has usually followed with an offer to integrate civilizations."

"So to take over. But the Koaku tried to beat you to it. I see-"

"No." Said Bar. "I'm not saying 'oliticians haven't used circumstances to 'ressure things, but they have always mandated a 'o'ular vote. 'lanet wide."

"Uh-huh. Of an over-populated planet?" He said, not buying it.

"Your s'ecies is more valuable to us alive and in great numbers than your resources are." The staff sergeant crossed his arms over his rifle and pursed his lips. Bar continued, appearing to not notice. "Our gene 'ool is dangerously shallow. If you think your s'ecies has a shallow pool, compared to ours it is like the ocean. We want to make you're s'ecies 'art of our own, not conquer it."

SSgt. Owens had heard enough. "Bullshit. What, you're plan is to have everyone just have an gigantic orgy? You're six foot fucking eight and look like mis-colored bipedal wolf! Do we even have the same number of chromosomes? And if your gene pool is so shallow, why doesn't everyone have defects out the wazoo.. Or is your group here only the finest and best?"

Bar made an expression he didn't understand. A smile maybe? It wasn't threatening, but he couldn't tell between innocence and something malicious.

"HALT. IDENTIFY YOURSELF." Screamed Hernandez.

Owens turned, seeing Hernandez at the ready and followed the rifle to an ally across the rubble-lined street. A man with an odd looking rifle at the alert was standing in the entrance. He wore a similar uniform to the others, but a digital woodland green camouflage kevlar was on his head.

"SERGEANT BENDRIN!" He yelled. "GERAK COMPANY. I'M WITH THE TECHNO WEREWOLVES. AS YOU WERE TEUFEL HUND, I"M ON YOUR SIDE!"

"Staff Sergeant, he.. But he knows... I mean, should I?"

"Is he one of yours?" Owens asked.

Bar nodded. "Our liaison. Let him though before that crazy S.O.B. Thinks we need rescuing."

Owen let out a short laugh. "You? Rescue? Let him through Hernandez."

"I don't know why you're shocked." She said. "That bastard is one of your kind."

Owens frowned. "Now all humans are-"

"No." Interrupted Bar, "He's a jar head. Or was, or however that works."

"Oh." Owens paused for a moment as the man jogged up. "Never mind. It makes sense now."

"Staff Sergeant." Bendrin nodded as he dumped a small pack on the ground. Owen gave a polite nod back.

"You never answered me. Why are you really here? Your gene pool story sounds like a load of crock, so-"

"Oh, that." Replied the man. He was rummaging though the bag until he pulled out what appeared to be a very basic prosthetic. He handed it to Agner before continuing. "I thought it was too until I saw it myself. Wait, do you mean the gene changing thing, or that the pool's that shallow?"

"Both. Woah, wait, changing genes?"

"They've developed a process that actually goes and changes your DNA, cell by cell, and then stimulates them to grow. We were here six years ago finding volunteers to test it."

"You were abducting people?"

Bendrin scoffed and gave the Staff Sergeant a disbelieving look.

"Please, Staff Sergeant. Go to a furry convention sometime. We had and still have plenty of willing people. I can show you pictures to try and prove it, but with photoshop these days that's meaningless. My own daughter is a convert herself. As soon as my service as a liaison is complete I will be too. -Fuckers won't promote me until I do. 'Score is so high from time in I'll jump three ranks when that day comes."

"Uh-huh." Said Owens, dubious.

"Fine. I can show you. Do you have a volunteer?"

"Matt!" Exclaimed Bar. "Not in a combat zone!"

He had pulled a couple of preloaded injectors out of his bag; one white, one red, both covered in bizarre characters written all over them.

"This one first. Make sure it goes into a lymph node-it can be a bit of a bitch-" he said, handing the white pen to the Staff Sergeant. "Be careful though. After the first one, if you don't use the second after a fever starts then you'll die. Your immune system will simply treat your whole body as an infection. The second one goes in like a normal shot into muscle after the fever has risen by at least two degrees."

"You're actually serious." Said Owens, his disbelief beginning to lift.

"As a heart attack, Staff Sergeant. The next week is hell as your body changes. The genes actually change relatively rapidly, it's the regrowing that takes time and makes you feel like shit. And... There is no reversing it." He looked the Staff Sergeant in the eyes. "I've put enough people through it to know. Everyone thought they wanted it. Some embraced it. Some only accepted it. And others struggled to come to grips with that they can never go back."

Owens held the pens out, eager to get them away from him.

"Alright," he said, "And the gene pool stuff?"

"Ah. Will you take a walk with me, Staff Sergeant?" Bendrin asked.

Owens nodded, then turned to his Marines and mouthed 'Cover me', eyes on Sanchez. Sanchez gave an exaggerated nod and restored his position behind the machine gun. Other marines did the same, or scooted closed to Sanchez their backs to him in order to keep an eye on the remaining Rakkan while protecting the machine gunner.

Matt stepped though the hole in the wall and began picking his way though the rubble towards where the Skinnies had disembarked from the saucer. Owens followed, and Matt talked as they went.

"The way the Rakkan look now is the result of their continuing to attempt to restore their shallow gene pool. They've incorporated (or consumed, depending on how you want to look at it) two other species so far. Every time they do so they take everything, from genetics, to culture, to customs, to cooking. They take technology, language, everything. If they merged with humanity today not only would you see new physical features, -fur patterns mostly- but German, French, Chinese, and English words, swears, slang, art, music, and holidays, all folded in. They love new traits- Hell, they already sell pizza on Arlon. And I'm sure I saw a Christmas tree in someone's window last time I was there.

"But what I'm saying is this: Those creatures over there are the result of not just the Rakkan, but a species called Picayans, and a species they call "Walkers", which is kind of a slang name but because they didn't use speech to communicate it stuck. Back when the Rakkan decided to deepen their pool they weighed several options: creating genes from scratch; altering genes from other species and introducing them to their own species, -in other words adding genetic variation to the population by using modified gametes instead of natural ones;"

"Ga-what?" Said Owens.

"Like egg and sperm. Those are gametes. Everyone becomes a test-tube baby."

"Oh. Gotchya."

"Anyway, the last solution they came up with was converting a species to their gene format and merging with them or vice-versa, mixing them evenly with their own existing people. The latter turned out the be the easiest and the fastest way to disperse lots of new genes. "Approximately two hundred years ago the decision was made to convert and merge, and the race split. A large number of the population felt that preserving the race's identity was more important, and that to merge and recreate this much variation would cause them to loose their original identity. Which, in their defense, is exactly what happened."

He stopped at the carcass of a dead skinny, laying face up. There was a large hole where it's left shoulder and most of it's chest should have been.

"So those that disagreed left. The Rakkan had set up a colony some distance away, and under the threat of conflict these purists left, taking the colony and kicked many of the original colonists back to Arlon. The remaining Rakkan merged with the Picayans, and the Rakkan on the colony formed their own nation and continued from there. They've never incorporated any other races, becoming almost like clones, so while the Rakkan who have merging with other species have been inheriting technologies and resources, the purists haven't. In fact they've remained very much the same as they were two hundred years ago. Things have gotten tight space and resource-wise over there, and so they've have to turn to... other methods of acquiring the resources they need."

He knelt at the head of the dead skinny and fished around under it's chin.

"You can imagine the amount of animosity developed between the two over two hundred years."

Owens nodded. There was a quiet squeak, and a soft hiss before the skull like mask visibly loosened from the helmet. Matt kept talking.

"Both are rightfully called Rakkan; the purist Rakkan call the folks you've met back there something akin to golems, while these blending Rakkan call the purists 'Koaku', which means 'Inbred',"

He lifted the mask. Owens revolted. Inside, the face looked like a hairless, short muzzled dog. It's lips were short, too short to cover twisted and misshapen teeth. Pink-grey skin was flecked with thin, wispy hair as it stretched over sunken cheeks and a boney skull. Dull, dead grey eyes looked back, while the head was anointed with short, almost nonexistent ears on top.

"Or as we call them," said Matt, "Skinnies."

---

Rika sat on the rolled up grip pad and lifted the panel off the floor. The smell that came up with it felt like a punch to her muzzle and she retched. She didn't need the troubleshooting tree to know what was wrong. Poking her head out of the cockpit door for a quick breath of fresh air she turned the flashlight on her PDA on and shone it down the hole. Sure as shit, the side of the waste recycler tank was ruptured, and by looks of it had been leaking for a long time beforehand. She sighed and ordered the part before picking up her tools and diving into the revolting task of removing the faulty glorified septic tank. It wasn't long before he mind drifted back to her memory...

**** Once they were back at the squad bay the Combat Instructors took turns making the two push, run, sit-up, and do a whole number of other exercises meant for a body with far more endurance than her own until Rika could barely hold onto Bokkar's hand as they stumbled their way back to the bunk. Despite the heavy exercise she was freezing, and struggled not to shiver. They had to make and remake their bunks several dozen times until the screaming drill instructors were happy. Rika was miserable by the end of it, shivering violently as the room seemed to have a frigid chill to it. Her head was pounding, and the lights seemed blindingly bright. She was so exhausted and cold that she didn't follow the rest of the platoon when they were ordered into the bathroom. Instead, she knelt on the ground, shivering and feeling ill as her head throbbed and the room heaved and began to spin around her. If the drill instructors were there, (and they probably were, screaming their lungs out) she didn't notice. She heard Bokkar's voice a few times, perhaps asking if she was ok. Rika remembered looking up and seeing everything going in and out of focus. There was the face of a very large, concerned dog above her. "Nice doggy," she said. She reached up to pat it on the head, but her arm seemed too heavy. It took so much effort just to get it off the ground, and when she did she found she couldn't balance herself. There was a strong tug on her other arm that kept her upright.

The next morning she felt better. When ever did she go to bed? She shrugged the thought off, not wanting to know the answer. The room remained still as she stared at the dark ceiling, and her head didn't hurt anymore. She was warm, too and breathing out of her mouth seemed to feel mildly refreshing, as if she had suddenly recovered from a sinus infection and could smell again. The room was suddenly flooded with light as something large and metal bounced across the squad bay. Screaming CI's ran down the length. She scrambled to get out of bed, remembering the movies where the drill instructors would dump the whole bunk over. The sheets seemed to stick to her as she did though, coming away with a slight tug. As her feet hit the ground her muscles complained. She must have worked out harder the night before than in her entire life, because every muscle in her body seemed incredibly sore. Her joints ached as she jumped up, along with her face, as if her body had been battered around by something. Bokkar gave her a small glance of surprise as they threw on their uniforms, but that was all before she gripped her hand and stood at attention on the red line. In the bathroom Rika nearly choked on her issued toothbrush. Across from her in the mirror was what clearly looked like a human, but covered in fine, short length black and reddish-tan hair. From the top of her hairline to her chin and down her neck the reddish tan hairs radiated out from the patch of black hairs that surrounded her nose and mouth and cheeks. The hairs were so dense that she could barely see the skin beneath them. Did she have to shave now? Then it hit her sleepy mind: She was growing fur.

She glanced frantically to her left, where Bokkar was clumsily attempting to brush her teeth with her left hand. She noticed Rika's look, however, and nodded. [You will be fine. I gave my word.]

Rika swallowed and nodded back, turning back to the mirror to brush her teeth. Two of them fell out, the roots completely dissolved. Three more were loose. After the third tooth dropped into the sink she put the brush back in her bag. Bokkar was still making awkward jabs in her mouth with the brush. Rika spun so that she was back-to-back with her and snatched Bokkar's left hand with her right. Then she let go with the other hand and continued her twirl so that she was facing the same way again, only on Bokkar's left side instead of right. Bokkar was staring at her, dumbfounded. Rika plucked the toothbrush from their combined grip and placed it in Bokkar's other hand. She took it, and silently went back to brushing her teeth while looking at Rika in amazement.

She was starving by breakfast. After the CI's had made them get undressed again, redress, tear the bunk beds apart, rebuild them, tear them apart again, rebuild them and make the sheets before ripping the sheets off again (well, you get the idea), they marched to the chow hall. "Marched" was bad word to describe, because it was more like shuffling while one of the instructors called cadence. Every time someone got out of step they stopped, turned around, and went back to the barracks. Rika swore it would be noon before they made it half way. After about an hour and a half of marching back and forth they either got it right long enough to make it, or the CI's grew tired of the game and wanted something to eat themselves before the galley closed. As they filed it off to get into the line for the mess hall Squad Sergeant Milam pulled them aside. He handed Rika a laminated blue card with some writing on it before yelling at them to get back in line. One they were a safe distance Rika discreetly showed Bokkar the card.

[High protein,] she whispered back, [show it to the server.]

When it was finally her turn in the line she held up the card for the server to see. The rakkan nodded, dropped two slabs of rather undercooked looking meat and a grey, pudding-like substance on her plate before handing it back to her. Rika took the plate and waited for Bokkar to be served. Her friend wrinkled her nose at her plate as the server handed it to her. She gave Rika a look of disgust before sniffing Rika's plate from a distance,

[Eeyech,] the rakkan whispered, [that stuff actually makes my food smell edible.]

They were on their way to a bench as another drill instructor ordered his Platoon to get out, immediately. There was a hurricane of activity, and suddenly that area of the mess was empty, as if it had never been occupied. Bokkar sat at the first available seat, with Rika sliding in beside her. Being extremely hungry and having a sneaking suspicion that they didn't have much time Rika inhaled her food. After the first few mouthfuls she was glad it would be over quickly, too. The meat stank, like it had been cooked by sitting it under a heat lamp for far too long. The pudding-like substance was slightly more bearable, tasting something akin to creamed chalk. She coughed as she set down the spoon and looked over at Bokkar, who was half way through the brownish-red slop that was the main meal and looked like she was in pain. The oder reminded Rika of cooked carrots and bathroom cleaner, and she was secretly glad that the rest of the military's food wasn't this nasty. At least, not if the ship's galley she had travel with was something to judge by.

[GET OUT OF MY CHOW HALL!!]

They were gone, having grabbed their trays, wiped off the table, and deposited their eatery to be cleaned to the sound of screaming of the Combat Instructors. Then they 'marched' to an auditorium, where they were made to sit with perfect, motionless posture through a dry, boring class on military etiquette. If someone fell asleep the Combat Instructors swooped in, hauling them outside to "Intensively Train" the unfortunate soul with a heavy dose of running, push-ups, crunches, and a variety of other exercises Rika had never heard of before, all until the perpetrator could barely move. Their first experience with such was after Bokkar nodded off. They both went, of course, each getting a double dose- Once for Recruit Bokkar falling asleep, getting them "killed", and once for Rika not keeping her awake. Afterwards whenever one of them started to feel tired the other would squeeze her hand painfully, snapping them back to alertness. It was aggravating, but it was better than being 'I.T.'ed again. When the class ended another began, this one on military customs and courtesies. The sun was high by the time the instructors had ordered them at a full sprint back outside the auditorium, to make a formation in the road, and then repeat that morning's routine of remix marching to the mess hall. By the time they were halted in front of the doors she swore it was mid afternoon, and she wanted nothing more than to sink her teeth into a steak. Lunch consisted of the same thing that breakfast had, only staler. She didn't care though, he body demanded meat, and wasn't picky about what it was like. This time, there were more teeth that fell out. She spat them onto her tray, the nubs of new teeth behind them poking through her gums.

Her meal was cut short, all of them having to evacuate the mess hall and form it up outside again. More marching, another class, this time on military pay. Afterwards it was back to the barracks to clean the whole thing at least six times over, move all the bunk beds, move them back again, then take them apart, sort the pieces, march with the mattresses pretending they were rifles, re-assemble them again... ad nausea.

By the time evening rolled around, her body had taken almost all it could. Her legs felt like they were lifting sandbags with each step. Her ears hurt, her vision was blurry and the world was beginning to spin again. Gamun Bokkar continue to grip her hand after she found she didn't have the strength to move her fingers anymore. The constant feeling of the rakkan's hand on hers ground her nerves, but she held her tongue. Finally the games were done, the squad bay was put back together, and they were to form it up on the road outside. Rika made it just outside the door when her legs gave out. Bokkar hauled on her arm as she scrambled to try to get to her feet again, but the ground wouldn't stay still, and reality seemed to spiral back and forth away from her.

[Help me,] she whispered.

[I've got you,] Gamun replied, pulling Rika's arm over her shoulders.

[I can't see. Everything is just a dimming blurr. Am I ok?]

[You are fine. Just keep in step. I'll find a C.I.]

Rika wasn't sure how far she made it, but the next thing she knew she was looking up at the dog again, feeling like she was in a distant world. This time the dog was joined by another, then another. She knew the first one. She liked the first one.The others were going to be mean to the first, she just knew it, and it was her fault.

"I'm sorry." She tried to say, but wasn't sure the words made it out. It was so hard to move...

---

US Army Sergeant Tobias River wiped his brow and stifled a curse, heaving the last bit of food from his stomach out onto the ornate carpet. The mid day sun seemed to take every waking second to remind him of two things; that it was another of Japan's unbearable hundred plus degree summers, and that there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. The tropical humidity matted his hair together under his helmet, and he could already see a circle of sweat soaking past the grime filled interceptor vest. The ever present stink of burning plastic wafted through the air on a cloud of putrid vapors, made all the better by gentle breeze blowing it into his face. This place was a fucking hell hole.

River stopped and looked behind him. The wonderful salty spray of ocean mist relieved his nose for a few seconds, and he took a deep breath to savor the natural perfume. This place, this island as a whole, had been his station of duty for the past year, and he knew this spot well. The highest point in Okinawa sat atop a sheer cliff overlooking the pacific. It had been a lookout and partial lighthouse for the docks of the shipping port below, protecting merchant ships from running aground on the rocks. The pilot house and light sat atop the fourth floor of what used to be a large school house; It had been converted after the turn of the century into a quaint hotel. Now however, the building was a charred mess of half standing structure, and half debris. The cliff face visible from below had been marred with the familiar criss cross pattern of burnt earth present around the rest of the small city.

The worn man let his mind wander for a brief moment, images of a home most certainly no longer standing invading his brain. Did it look and smell like this? Were his parents nothing more than stinking piles of burnt flesh? Shaking his head, he tried desperately to push the thoughts to the back of his head. He'd seen many horrific things today, that was certain. Looking back to the men behind him, he felt his heart lurch in his aching chest. These guys had seen the same horrible things, waded through the piles of rubble and burnt bodies, and watched their friends die in front of them without so much as a warning. He owed them a capable leader, which meant the time for personal reflection would wait until much, much later.

Rounding the corner, River let out a curse as the tip of the AT5 rocket launcher mounted on the back of his six foot two frame met the bottom of something hard. The familiar green and white "running man" exit sign had shattered straight down onto his gear, littering the back of his neck with plastic and white fluorescent powder.

"Awe for fuck's sake!" He seethed quietly, picking the pieces out.

Kicking the glass away in anger his peripheral vision caught the glint of a small piece of metal. Looking off to his right, past the now open half of the building, he could make out a strap fluttering next to the olive drab of a parachute. It was hung up on something at the end of the right most side of the building, blocked from view by the crumbling center structure. Tapping the side of his helmet, his microphone activated.

*Found the bird stuck in a tree* he whispered.

Reaching the thresh hold of the second floor landing he stopped. External walkways to the left and right, almost like a motel back in the states. A single stairwell ran through the center of all three floors effectively splitting the structure down the middle. 'Doable, gotta get someone to watch my back' he thought. Pushing forward with his SCAR on semi auto and pressed firmly in his shoulder, he scanned quickly to the left and right. Stopping abruptly, he nearly dropping his rifle.

The walkway ahead opened up into a near perfect view of the island, or what was left of it, down below. Tendrils of fire leapt from building to wooden building, decimating the small city's cultural center, and even managing to spread out to the large shipping port. Off in the hazy, smoke filled distance he could make out what was left of Joint Base Kadena. The air traffic control tower jutted up at a strange angle and was still smoking like it had been when they left the base eight hours earlier.

The smell of burning wood, plastic and the distinct, sickly sweet smell of ozone helped to hammer home how complete and utter the destruction had been. His superior's theory that the strike had been calculated and confined to the military installation, was a complete pile of shit. Retreating back to the stairs he radioed in.

*Clear, two, come up.*

*Copy* came the muffled reply.

Quiet foot falls shook dust from the ceiling behind him. River turned and nodded, motioning for the man to come forward.

"I think the canopy is stuck up on the third floor, but I can't see all of it," He pointed off to the right at the barely visible parachute. "Anything on the second?"

"Nothin' below Sergeant just-"

River watched the man's gaze wander to the scene behind him, but moved to block it.

"Focus. Just what?"

"Black shit... Same as the rest." The machine gunner Fox said, looking away.

River thought back to the strange black streaks that lead out of each open room on the first floor. The spartan Japanese living areas had been utterly destroyed, but the same dried streaks slathered what little untouched sections there were. He hoped in his heart that it wasn't what he thought it was. Fox shook his head and cursed, spitting a wad of dip over his shoulder as he collected himself.

"Menendez didn't make it. Bled out about five minutes ago."

River clenched his jaw, squashing the anger building deep in his chest.

"You tell any of the other guys yet?"

"Nah, figure I should tell you first."

River nodded, flinching slightly as a piece of concrete fell from floor above.

"You're my new team leader. Take the two Marines; Christoff and Martin. Grab Marko too while you're at it. Gimme a quick scan of the fourth floor I'll take who ever's left for this one."

"Gotcha. What do we do about V?" Fox said pointing a thumb over his shoulder.

The two looked down the winding stairwell at the Corporal with the flushed white face and medical wrap around his throat. Both of his pant legs were stained crimson from below the knee to his boots. River looked Fox in the eyes and shook his head.

"Doesn't look good."

The Private nodded. "His clock's ticking man. I've got most of what was left of doc's gear, but there wasn't any co-ag gel when I checked."

"Rodger that. I'll keep checking on him then. Grab your guys and case the rest of this level."

"Sure thing Sergeant."

River couldn't help but admire the young soldier. Fox was the image of a kid from the deep south, an accent built from the drawl of something born next to a swamp town. He'd been the company "shit kicker" since day one, and loved it. Fox knew how to lead, and that was one thing the sergeant had needed at the moment. Watching his new team leader gather up his men, River made his way forward.

Freeing the special forces issue Glock machine pistol clipped to chest, Fox spotted his corporal laying against a pile of rubble. The broken man had been looking out toward the front parking lot with his side arm at the ready. Fox tapped him gently on the helmet before moving to his side.

"Virg, take this, got a little more bite then that berretta." He said with a smirk. Virgil gave him a slightly vacant stare before he let out a gurgled cough. He nodded his understanding. "You take it easy got it? Yer my least favorite NCO, remember?" It was a joke, and they both knew it. Fox waited for Virgil to smile slightly before patting him on the chest. "Keep your shit together."

Taking stock of his fire team Fox spit the overused tobacco out completely. He himself was from the tenth mountain division, and he'd had no combat experience. The two Marines were force recon, but also new guys, or "boots" as the Sergeant put it. The rest though, were POG's that they had scraped up at the last minute. A person other then a grunt who came from all the walks of the military except the infantry. Cooks, admin specialists, maintenance personnel, intel, or like In the skinny kid Grime's case, nothing at all. He had only just gotten to Japan a week prior, and to Okinawa a day before all hell broke lose. He was the greenest of them all, fresh out of training and barely knew how to follow commands.

Regardless of age, experience, or background, the events experienced over the past twenty four hours had already changed everyone on the island. The small squad bore looks of grim determination told him they were ready to sacrifice everything to carry out their mission.

"Fuckin movie shit right here." He said smirking. Grabbing the three remaining soldiers, he ushered the rest up to Sergeant River.

River took a knee.

"We're splitting up, the walkways and rooms aren't big enough for four people to clear a room at once. Loui and Young, you two clear right. Once you get to the parachute, stop and hold it there." They nodded and took off down the hall of fourty or so rooms. He turned toward Grimes, who still looked surprisingly calm. 'Shell shock.' He thought. He'd seen it on the younger troops too. He had to stir up the kid. Punching him in the shoulder he smirked. "You still remember how to clear rooms? Or did you shit that out on the plane ride up here?"

Grimes nodded, still stone faced.

"Two man clear, ready move, pull charge. You remember that?"

"Yes Sergeant."

"Good. Follow me, an for christ's sake, it's not the end of the world."

"Not funny." Grimes said as his lips curled into a scowl.

It wasn't, but they didn't have time for any emotional unloading now. "Wake the fuck up, or I leave your ass here, got it? Now come on."

"Roger."

The other two made their way slowly out of his line of sight to the left, disappearing around the corner. River moved past the first door swiftly, waiting for grimes to stack up on the other side of the door. Yanking the door open, they leaned in, quickly scanning opposite ends of the room in criss crossing fields of fire. Letting the door fall shut, they repeated the process on the next room, and the one after.

A single room at the end of the hallway was missing a door. Looking inside, they could see it had been blown off the hinges and partially embedded in the ceiling. It became clear quite quickly that the smell of putrid flesh was emanating from this room. That same caustic, sickly sweet smell they'd run through the entire way up the hill. Grimes dropped his rifle as he passed the thresh hold.

River stopped abruptly, keying his radio on all channels.

*Third floor left clear.*

*How?* Fox asked quickly. *I just got up here and-*

*Shut the fuck up. Finish your sweeps and get ready to move in twenty. Status on package?*

*You're not going to believe this Sergeant.*

River looked up at the ceiling with a sigh. 'From what I've seen, try me.'

*Is he still alive?*

There was a pause as the mic rustled around a bit.

*Yeah, just barely though, He's stuck in the railing.*

*Copy. Cut him down. Quickly. The rest of you finish up.*

Three sets of mic clicks in quick succession provided a wordless affirmative. Passing the room's threshold, Grimes immediately emptied the contents of his stomach onto the black stained floor next to them.

Even with the light from the doorway as their only source it was easy to see the hell the room was covered in. The white walls were stained with the same black streaks they'd seen before. Now however, the patterns spread out in all directions, bits of sinewy gore hanging from every point in the room, almost like a bomb had gone off in a dense crowd. Human remains, if you could call the bits of carcasses that remained such, were strewn about the room in sickening piles of sludge. A separate pile of skulls had been neatly stacked in the corner, golf ball sized holes in all the skulls. River could see a single body, eviscerated, hung along the shower rod in place of the curtain like a stuck pig. From what he could see, the tub was filled with what was left.

"God in heaven..." Young trailed off, his jaw hung open.

River looked over his shoulder at the shocked man. "Grimes head downstairs. I'm gonna finish up here."

The private looked like he was about to protest, but he stopped as River pulled a pencil sized demolition charge from his drop pouch. Young had been trained to protect his sergeant, his squad leader, but following orders always came first, even if that meant he'd be putting him in danger. Grabbing Grimes by the collar of his flak jacket, Young nearly had to drag him out of the room.

River cursed as he surveyed the room again. 'What the hell had these people done to deserve an end so horrible.' He wondered. It was only the second building he'd seen like this, but it was a safe bet that the grey skinny aliens had systematically collected all of the people and put them here. All the guests methodically tortured and dismembered. Murdered.

He clenched his eyes shut, successfully beating back another flood of emotions, placing another charge as he did so. He willed himself to believe that these were no longer people, but soulless bodies, husks of meat. Mind over matter just wasn't doing it.

Taking his helmet off and wiping the sweat from his brow, he clipped it to his flak and left the room. To his right were another couple of rooms, but he had already decided he wasn't going to enter them. Instead he threw the remaining charges in as he kicked the doors open, stopping only to shout for survivors to come forward. When none did, he retreated back to the first floor, repeating with what charges he had left on the remaining rooms. Reaching the end of the building, he saw the top of the parachute canopy stuck to the side. Looking down below, he could see the two soldiers struggling to cut the pilot free without letting him drop the remaining feet to the ground.

"Ten minutes, then I start the countdown." He yelled down to them.

They looked up and over the railing below, giving him a thumbs up. Five minutes later, and the charges were set. It made sense to demolish the building. If any more civilians took refuge, then the hilltop hotel would probably remain a meat house. Some part of River also said that the bodies needed a final resting place, and without the time or resources to do it himself, this was the next best option.

'Next best option. What a crock of shit.' he seethed to himself.

Doing one last check of his gear and making sure everyone was rounded up, River called them into a small circle.

"Menendez is gone. Moment of silence."

The group seemed to exhale at once, before bowing their heads quickly. Looking up, Fox was the first to speak.

"Sarge, we got one stretcher. I checked out the pilot, an he's maybe a bit better off then Virge I think. Not sure, just sayin."

"I'll carry Virgil," River began. He slipped his helmet back on, concealing his creased forehead. Clearing his throat he drew the charging handle back on the battered M4, checking the round in the chamber. "Fox you got point. I want everyone to carry the stretcher two at a time. Switch off the instant you feel the burn. We've been out here for close to twelve hours with little water and no food. Watch each other and if someone looks fucked up, say something." He thumbed upward at the dilapidated building. "There's about two pounds of condensed PBX up there and down here. The detonators are on a half hour timer, so I suggest you grab your gear and roll. Fox."

"Yeah Sarge?"

"You grab the shit off of Menendez?"

"Clips, water, med gear, everything but his weapon."

"You get his letter?"

Fox produced a blood stained piece of paper from his cargo pocket. "You can't read shit, I was gonna-"

"You were gonna what?"

River held out his hand, palm up. Fox looked down at the letter and then back at his sergeant and swore under his breath. Handing it over he hissed a curse through his teeth.

"It's not your responsibility." The sergeant said. Taking the letter and folding it with care. Putting it in his left breast pocket, he gave Fox an understanding nod. "We'll figure this out when we get back. Everyone, grab your gear. We're headed back to the train station."

'I'll get them out alive. Even if it kills me.' He promised himself. Hauling Virgil up onto his shoulders he grunted, the hundred plus pounds of weight of both their gear, plus the weight of the man nearly made River topple over. Righting himself, he pulled the man up, wincing when he accidentally grazed a wound in his friends leg.

"Sorry buddy, but no pain, no gain. Tap me on the back when you can't hang on anymore okay?" He watched Virgil nod weakly. They were running out of time.

Without a word the small group of ten collected what they had and moved as a squad in two columns, River in the middle. They worked slowly and cautiously past the burnt out cars in the parking lot, all taking care not to make eye contact with the charred and blackened victims in their vehicle tombs. Heading out of the square parking lot and out the front entrance, they headed down the narrow and winding access road so typical of Japanese hilltop buildings.

The slightly moist top soil next to the road seemed to be the only break of the day, the soft dirt laying mercy on their battered boots and tired legs. Ten minutes later, a thunderclap followed instantaneously by the pressure wave of an explosion nearly swept the squad off their feet. Liouie and Grimes almost dropped the stretcher as they were pushed forward.

"A bit early aint it?" Fox yelled back through the explosive din, sticking a finger in his ear.

River checked his watch. "May be defective. EMP could have-"

Another pressure wave and explosion, but the men certainly didn't see that first. A reddish green flash nearly blinded them, before a third explosion sent a cloud of debris up in the air. Looking up, they watched a series of orange plumes rise up into the air.

"You lay another friggin satchel of PBX next to that one Sergeant?" Marko asked.

"Skinnies?" The marine with the fifty caliber rifle, Martin asked, his voice cracking.

A dark object flew through the air tumbling through the chaos. It only took the squad a second to see it was a burned out truck, and it took nearly as long to land on the section of path they had been only moments before. With a screeching crunch it hit the asphalt, tumbling off the cliffs edge into the decimated town below. Behind them more objects were flung into the air.

"Run." River said under his breath, watching the black plume of smoke curl into the air. Eyes widening, strength found his shaking legs again. "Run! Run damn it! Fucking go!"

A second series of explosions, which had obviously been the PBX cooking off, tore through the area. Virgil seemed to tense up for second on River's back, before relaxing again. An instant later, the heat from the orange cloud reach the group, melting the plastic on their radio headsets to the kevlar frame of their helmets.

"Fuckin hell!"

"We passed an access tunnel on the way up, look for it!"

Fox stopped to push the corporal up higher on the sergeants shoulders, taking up the rear. "You got any idea where it comes out at?"

A piece of smoking shrapnel wizzed by River's helmet, narrowly missing Virgil. A second later a car smashed into the hillside above them embedding itself in the soft grass.

"I don't give a fuck where it goes, just as long as it's not here!"

"Rodger that!"

Rounding the bend, River stopped to survey the chaos, only to wish he hadn't. At the top of the hill a giant saucer hovered, spitting out beams of fire and without a doubt destroying what was left of the hotel. What the hell had been the point of eviscerating the humans, if they were just going to blow it up?

'Forget it. Keep moving.'

The path continued down the blind side of the hill on a more gentle slope, which slowed the men's sprint to a labored jog. The steel gate of the old water plant access was covered with vines and age old rust, but the area around the lock had been scrubbed free of it. The stretcher was placed down gently, and for the first time the squad heard the pilot, their "bird", moan in pain. He'd been the reason they had to go up there in the first place a search and rescue for a pilot. Not just any pilot though, their pilot. The group didn't have to follow orders to rescue him, they simply wanted to.

River stopped to the side, setting Virgil as gently as he could against the concrete wall. Looking him over, River realized he wouldn't be taking his friend on the rest of the trip. Searching him quickly, he found the hand written letter in the pocket over his heart. Grabbing the machine pistol and clipping it to his back, he closed is friends eyes with his thumb and index finger. The rest of the squad simply didn't look.

"Grieve later." He said with a crack in his voice, more to himself then the men watching. "Martin, put one of those fifty cal rounds into that gates lock."

"Don't have to Sergeant." The Marine responded. "Lock's already been shot off."

Fox pulled the gate open with a creek, leading wordlessly into the dark abyss. River said a silent prayer for his friend and bounded in after him, the rest of the squad following.

---

Rika shook her head and returned her focus to mindless, revolting task of removing the recycler tank from the lower fuselage of the trainer farrom she was assigned too. She wiped her hands off on her uniform and avoided thinking about what that nasty sludge was probably composed of. Her last day in this unit... supposedly. She had yet to receive orders, which was why she was still here, out on the line, pulling a glorified septic tank out of a beater UFO. Squadrons out in "the fleet" that she was supposedly headed to hopefully had better equipment than this that they used.

She sighed, changed wrenches, and wiggled into the tiny hole that was the only access to the tank. She was beginning to wonder what was worse: Laying in fifteen years worth of leaked rakkan poop, or bootcamp. At least then her nose would have a toned down version of this smell... well, until her change.

-The first thing she noticed was the smells. They seemed to flood into her in amazing detail, and her brain was able to categorize them with easy discernment. What had been "that faint dog smell" was now a torrent of odious colors, all rakkan, and yet all belonging to distinct individuals. She could also smell the blending of fears, stale with time, along with the dirt and foliage outside. There was one smell that was stronger than the rest, and for some reason he brain had plucked from her subconscious, that smell meant friendship.

She had awoke what to what she thought was morning. The overhead lights in the squad bay were off, but the room seemed to be bathed with light. Somehow she was laying on top of her bed. Her hand felt like it was wrapped in something soft and warm. The squad bay was unearthly quiet. She looked down, where Gamun was drooling onto her blanket about midway down--

Rika froze, having caught sight of what was supposed to be her own body. Her breasts were gone, her chest adorn instead with thick, medium length black fur that ran from as far up as she could see to the bottom of her rib cage where it made a rough transition into a rusty-red tan. The black was flanked on either side by the same tan, that ran down her shoulders before giving way to the black, retreating to her sides. She was naked, but it didn't matter. Fur covered everything, transitioning roughly into black on the inside of her thighs that eventually translated into socks on her misshapen looking feet. Likewise her arms were a lighter tan that abruptly faded into black gloves half way down her fore-arms. She picked up her hand, Gamun's clawed fingers still wrapped around it. At the end of each of her fingers was a single black, slightly raised pad tipped by a stubby, dull, black claw of her own, the rest was completely covered in black fur. She brought her other hand up, observing another, like wise bald pad on her palm before reaching up to touch the dark object that bobbed with her head at the bottom of her vision. Her finger pads collided with a damp nose, followed by wiry whiskers and more hair. She had a muzzle. It way maybe six inches long or so from her eyes to the tip of her nose. It was black, at least as far as she could tell. She ran her tongue over her teeth, feeling the long, sharp, jagged rows of new teeth. Next to her face, on the bed, was a small pile of what had used to be in her mouth, fillings and all. There was something uncomfortable under her butt, something that she could feel like an extension of her spine with limited movement. She flexed it forward, and was rewarded by a mass of tan and black fur rising between her legs.

It was official. She had a tail. Gamun suddenly lifted her head. She smacked her lips several times before looking up at Rika. Her ears flicked to the side in a smile while she gave her a sleepy look.

[Oh, you look much better like this.]

[Eeeurgg.] Rika replied. Her new mouth would take some getting used to.

[If you say so,] she tried again, with effort.

[You had us worried. When you went down every time we woke you up you'd mutter something in your own language and then fall back asleep. The medical staff said it was normal though, so they had me drag you back here and wait for you to wake up.]

[How long have you waited?]

[About two days.]

[And you've been here the whole time?]

[Yep. The platoon has brought be food a couple of times now. I have to ask permission to leave so I can use the bathroom.]

Rika didn't know what to think of this. On the one hand she was touched by her fast forming friendship with the alien, feeling sympathetic towards her for what must have been a painfully long two days. On the other, she was still a little upset at being backed into this change in the first place.

She sat up, feeling weak. [I have to urinate, and I'm thirsty.]

[Me too,] said Gamun, clamoring to her feet.

Rika took the opportunity to observe the rakkan as she stretched, observing how she positioned her feet, the bend in what Rika now felt to be her "knees". Dropping her legs over the side of the bed, she was just starting to psych herself up to stand when Gamun pulled her to her feet. She waved her free arm frantically, but was surprised how quickly she regained her balance. She was standing on what she would have normally considered to be "tip-toes", but it felt natural and took surprising little effort. She took a few uncertain, wobbly steps before Gamun yanked her forward. Instinctively Rika began to walk as if she had been doing it all her life. [You're thinking about it too hard,] the rakkan said, [motor controls have all been reprogrammed, as have reflexes, expressions, and instincts. In essence, the vehicle might have changed, but the driver is the same.]

Rika looked at her friend with suspicion. [You sure know a lot about this.]

Gamun shrugged and kept walking. [I had an uncle that was born a Walker, and so were my parents,] she said, referring to a race of aliens known for their absurdly long legs. The rakkan had merged with them for a reason that was beyond Rika. Gamun continued. [One of my uncles changed his mind years later, and decided to convert. He came and stayed with us when he did. I was only twelve years or so, but I did my best to try and help him when my parents were busy. Its how I knew you would be safe.]

Rika smiled, feeling overcome with gratefulness.

[Bokkar, I am so lucky to have you as a friend.]

Gamun wagged her tail. [I'm lucky too. Come on: Let's sneak a bathroom break before they come back.]