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"It was in 2173 kid, before the integration laws came into place, before humans became respectable to the galaxy on the whole and the corporates still did their ‘research' on your kind..."

3rd of December 2173

A ledge on a mountain ridge overlooking BioSynth Alaskan Board Retreat

The Special Tactical Reconnaissance, Operations, Logistics, Intelligence (S.T.R.O.L.I.), essentially the black ops arm of the UN Security Council, a combination of skills equivalent to the FBI, CIA and SAS and after years of investigation and bypassing all the laws designed to protect the mega-corporate entities, found more than enough evidence to prosecute the BioSynth Corporation for illegal genetic experimentation on the refugees and castoffs, people who wouldn't be missed, of the Anthron-Terran Spatial Alliance.

The standard snatch-and-grab, refugee or independent ships go missing, as space is so hazardous, then torture and dissection, the general public never knew. Never knew that BioSynth did it with humans too, trying to find medical breakthroughs with alien DNA to create medicines for Parkinson's and other genetic disorders. Make a great deal of money without a fucking care for the poor bastards they mutilated. So the UN SC sent in a snatch-or-kill team into Alaska to capture or eliminate the company senior members, while other teams raided their facilities in Mexico, Mars, Pluto, the Asteroid Belt Delta Labs and so on. Take them all without a public peep then a secret trial, locked up or executed either ones good, all to remove a major embarrassment to humanities relations with the furs and scalies. Fair enough.

From my position I could see over the entire complex in the valley on a cliff bluff between the two mountain peaks. The retreat had one main road out of the facility, a windy mountain track carved in the craggy mountain surface to the east, quite hazardous for the ground teams to move up on because of the blizzard. From the ledge I had overwatch over the entire complex as well as the road, the place had a standard square defence placement. A hidden flash-bang minefield on the perimeter covering the hill approaches on the western side private ski slope, a guarded tunnel entrance at the foot of the cliff that lead to the road. In the compound itself it had a courtyard in the middle with the main house between it and the ski slope, a guards barracks on the north of the courtyard, the second security checkpoint at the east covered the road at the top for it's last 500 meters with a watchtower on top of it, and the sheer cliff to the south had small shack that leaded to the secret research centre within the mountain just behind the cliffs edge. I saw it all through the scope.

My job was to covertly eliminate the guards at the lower and upper checkpoints, the guards near the cliff, and to ensure no-one popped out with an RPG to take out the evac Ospreys. I was assisted by Kris. A nice enough male fur of the Arctic Fox species, who was on the other side of the valley with his wife and spotter, Red, human, but I never met them face to face, they were just voices on the ICOM.

I had my own spotter lying next to me, behind the spotters scope was a fine looking 130 year-old Draconian 5'10" fem who only looked twenty, her scales had a pale white hue to them with a black stripe that went from the tip of her muzzle over her back to her very prehensile 4 foot tail, with a golden hued fin skating along the stripe from her head to the base of the tail. Though right now I could only see the tip of her nose from her thick Inuit jacket hood, she had little icicles dangling from her nostrils. We have been there on the cold 20-meter square ledge for 5 days, watching and waiting for CC to be ready.

"So... cold enough for you" I called over the 50 knot wind to her. "Why don't you take off that Drizabone coat and find out warm-blood". She responded

"Lazara K. Krikik, there is no need for speciest remarks like that". I said whilst watching the two cliff guards walking back and forth. "Look", she spat "I'm freezing, it's windy, it's dark, it's winter, some of us aren't blessed with their own electrical heating system, and at least get my bloody name right. It's Liz'ra K. Kriket, damnit."

"Sorry, for having organs that emit heat and energy from screwed up DNA, and I thought I did get it right this time Liz. Besides I don't know why you don't wanna use your codename, like I, Red, or Kris does, it's kinda cute." I yelled back over a sudden gust of arctic wind. "Bushman, I don't think Pink is BLOODY CUTE", She blasted back.

"Jesus, someone's bitchy today," I mutter, "I heard that", she seethes. Bugger, ICOM is still on.

"You try being nice when I'm freezing my fucking tail off." Liz rants. "If I want to bitch it's my right to fuckin..." "Look" I interrupted, turning my head to look at her in her sapphire slitted eyes, "You weren't so cold last night when we had to share my sleeping bag, and your tail was certainly wasn't frozen, what was that great move called you did when you shoved it up my...mmmff". Getting wacked in the mouth by a snowball is quick to silence the most determined tongue.

"You had that coming, for ‘accidently' spilling your instant coffee on my bag." She says to me, sticking her tongue out. After a bit of spitting and spluttering I responded "To me Liz, it was worth it, after ten years I didn't think you were going to be that good in the sack at first but boy did you prove me wrong".

"WHY YOU UNGRATEFUL SONOVABITCH, DON'T SACRALIAGE THE UNION, YOU SON OF A WH..." "ARE you two finished, I don't have to come over there do I." Came the voice of Kris through the static, he was always known for his striking baritone and no-nonsense attitude when on mission, off-mission though, well I didn't know, like I said I never met him in person. "Besides the Blizzard is easing off and HIGHCOM wants to get the Op underway". Kris continued.

"Why didn't I receive the comm signal Kris, I thought I was in command on the op." I enquired. "I think that's because that both of your inflated egos jammed your ICOM using the unidentified flying snow-ball-like object from your fucking about." Kris retorted, with a condescending tone to his baritone static infused voice.

He was right, the wind died down to a much more respectable 5 knot westerly, and I could see the ski slope right down to the base of the mountain 5 kilometres down. "Okay Kris, I've cleared the snow from my ICOM gear, I'll get the details from HIGHCOM." I calmly responded in my deep V8-like voice, game time. "HIGHCOM, This is Bushman, awaiting orders and priority lists".

From the ICOM earpiece I heard the strong booming voice of the Director, I only met him once and he was always called the Director. I could see him in front of the STROLI Tactical Room screen with the assistants providing him with up to date reports from their ‘desks'. Standing proud would be the tall 7'5" timber wolf, his black and grey pelt mixed well with his well-pressed black Armani suit and his custom gold headset.

"Listen up people, we have received the Intel of this emergency meeting of the senior company members regarding our investigation as you well know. That means there top cutters, lawyers and directors will be there", "Pardon me, Director," I interrupt "But what do you mean when you say cutters?"

"The cutters are the bastard so-called doctors, surgeons and genetists who have been directly involved with the mutilation of the refugees...of both governments, any more questions Bushman?" "Not at this time sir" I tactfully respond. "Good".

"Moving on, the ground team ‘Emu' will block off the road 50 meters down from the tunnel checkpoint to prevent vehicular escape. Once that road has been secured, Eagles 1 and 2 shall fast rope the Capture team into the courtyard wherein the team shall remove the senior members, codenamed Umbrella, to the courtyard for extraction while Eagle 3 shall fast rope the Asset team by the shack to secure the research labs. Bushman, Kris, you are Longbow 1 and 2 respectively. Your job is to help secure the checkpoints and the courtyard landing area, Longbow 1, you have the landing area, the shack and upper checkpoint, Longbow 2, you have the lower checkpoint then assist Longbow 1. Is that clear". A flurry of yes-sirs sounds over the ICOM.

"One more thing gents, anyone who may have the possibility of escaping us must be stopped, non-lethally if possible, they are all a bunch of speciest bastards and could cause problems later on if they do escape". "I copy that sir, I'll personally take care of any coop fliers," I acknowledge with a hint of maliciousness.

"Let this not be a repeat of Tunisia, or Asteroid 3656-1 Bushman." States the Director, growling with a hint of anger in his "It's not my fault that those missions involved high explosives, no one told me about them...sir". I defend.

"Be that as it may I want this one to be nice and clean... Understood." "Yes sir" I diligently respond while thinking, Asshole.

"Okay then, lets begin while the weather holds", I zoom up to ten times magnification. Setting the crosshair on the guard on top of the of the upper checkpoint watchtower I call out for distance, wind speed and direction although I can see it on the scope on the top left. "600 meters, 5.5 knots west-south-west." Liz replies using the instruments on her spotter's binoculars. "Kris, HIGHCOM, start the bush dance". I call over ICOM with a small smile and a surge of adrenaline. I double check the 241 Special Sniper Battle system is set to the 7.62mm XM110 rifle and drift the crosshair a smidge to the left of the illuminated smoking human in a floppy ear cap and parka and slowly squeeze the trigger...