**Wylde Fyre

Chapter Four**

July 21st 2017 Unknown Location 20:00 Hours

The varnished wooden floor resounded with rhythmic clacks as the heels of the snow leopard's boots struck with each step. The sound ceased, replaced only with the steady ticking of the clock further down the hall, as he stopped in front of the polished wooden doors to the office of his commander. He paused, raising one hand to knock, and then hesitated. Zachary had been called by his leader, whom he only knew by his 'face name', a name only used within the Organization, despite having spent time with 'King' in a social and non-professional capacity. He was one of many 'Knights' in the group, the heads of the Organizations' military affairs branch. ** ** That was of no real concern now though, and he self-consciously straightened his uniforms' collar before smartly rapping on the door. Even before the end of his second set of taps, a voice from within called out for him to enter. Zachary entered quickly, keeping his back straight and walking proudly into the lush office beyond. It was decorated with the artefacts of a hundred different adventures and expeditions, several of which he'd heard from Kings' muzzle on other occasions. The man had never given away, however, whether the stories were his, or whether they had been passed down. The authenticity he told them with made it sound as if he'd been there himself. But considering the age of some of the artefacts in the room that would be ridiculous - he'd have to have been centuries old for that to be even remotely true. As his eyes fell on the man behind the huge Mahogany desk, he reasoned that couldn't be true. Certainly, the Badger with the name - or title - of King was easily within his fifties or sixties, but looked good for the age. There were marks of age around his eyes, the thicker, styled fur that all Humanimals had on their head had thinned out, and greyed (even for a badger). But he wasn't a stooped, shrivelled, dried-up ancient creature; nothing like someone that age would be expected to be. In fact, he was positively energetic for his age, with a strong, healthy physique and active nature. He spoke with a strong voice, and had clear, intelligent eyes. Those same eyes were now locked onto him with curious intensity, and followed him as he moved across the thick Persian rugs toward the desk. The other person in the room registered him with a measured nod as he stood by the desk, hands folded neatly into the small of his back. Zachary returned the woman's nod with one of his own, glancing at her with a sideways flick of his eyes, and keeping his expression neutral despite his bitter hate for her. The Gazelle, with her smoky-grey fur and white front-parts had a simmering beauty to her. But it was counterpointed with the disdain in her hazel eyes, and the smirk on her lips as she lounged in the chair, one long leg crossed over the other in an almost provocative pose. Her slender piano-players' fingers were laced together as she glanced at him with a critical eye, before looking to King. Again, he didn't know her name; but knew her only as 'Bishop'. Like him, she was part of the 'black' world of their organisation. She had no public identity of power, unlike the 'white' sector, who were those in influential positions of power and responsibility, guiding the world towards their goals openly, while the 'black' side of the organization did the true work. "Knight," said the Badger at last, breaking the silence with a smile and a warm voice. "Please, feel free to take a seat. Bishop was informing me about the fallout from the incidents in Tajikistan and the effects on our operations there". "I see," said the snow leopard carefully, trying to keep venom out of his voice. He had no doubt that Bishop and her Intelligence section had been doing nothing but undermining the work he and his section had done in person. "And what exactly did she have to report? I thought that my people had supplied all the information you needed already. I admit, we were not expecting the actions of the Allied Forces, and that we should have prepared extra contingencies, and had more Pawns in place-" King held up one hand, the soft smile still maddeningly in place. "You'll have a chance to explain yourself, don't worry. But first I'd like to review what I've heard already regarding the... incident... and the materials that have fallen out of our grasp. Perhaps then we can also discuss our next steps to remedy the situation". Zachary clenched his muzzle tightly together, stopping short of grinding his teeth, but nodded, his tail twitching in irritation - much to the amusement, he noticed, of Bishop, who smirked at him, before turning her attention back to King. "So," the badger said, slowly standing from the desk and pacing to the window nearby and the light streaming in. "The Black Pawn we had in Tajikistan was involved in an air assault. The convoy he was travelling in, after meeting with ranking officials from the Iranian Armies' forces regarding our efforts in that region, was destroyed by an aerial bombardment. You and a Pawn intervened in an attempt to protect the Pawn and the documents his contact was in charge of, intending to wipe out the attacking force". "That is correct, sir," he answered, feeling a hot flush of nerves rise under his collar. Having his actions explained so straight-forward and in plain detail removed the complexity and what seemed - at the time, at least - the elaborate strategies he had put into action as part of the operation. "I see," said the badger in a measured tone. "As I understand it - and I should, as I am the head of this section of our organization - the plan for this Area of operations was to destabilize the region through the international conflict, and to disrupt links between the People's Republic of China and the Islamic Republic of Iran, two major regional powers. The goal of which, being an opportunity for us to assert our own control in the region through our business fronts, and with the infiltration of our own pre-groomed political candidates. That would later lead us to a situation where we could engineer a situation where we are able to better shape development in that region toward our goals". He paced away from the window, pausing as he let the words hang in the air. Crossing to a drinks cabinet, he poured brandy from a decanter into three crystal tumblers, passing two to the Knight and Bishop without asking, before taking the third for himself. Zachary held the crystal drinking vessel under his nose, breathing deep of the strong-smelling spirit, before leaning back in the chair and awaiting the inevitable slamming from his superiors regarding the action in the Middle East. "The encounter in Tajikistan has now disrupted those plans, although not derailed them. The information in the dossiers now in the hands of our rivals and enemies will indicate our hand in the events in Tajikistan, as well as pointing to several of our interests and facilities, something that we have avoided so far". "The data can be-" began Zachary, but a warning look from King cut him off. The badger was not finished talking. Zachary immediately looked into the bottom of his glass, as the man looked away, ambling around the edge of the room, examining the ancient artefacts on the walls and atop the furniture. "I am surprised that such... conventional forces were such a challenge for you, Knight. And even more so that they managed to shoot down one of the aircraft you campaigned so hard to get." Bishop smirked at this, shaking her head and running the tip of one slender finger around her glass, the crystal chiming as she did so. Zachary shot her a withering glance, which she turned a withering smile on in return. Even King smirked as he caught the exchange. "I think that defeat is probably punishment enough," remarked the gazelle in a cool, silky voice that matched her appearance. "Certainly at the hands of such... pedestrian opponents as the US Air Force and a squadron of thirty year old F-15's; although I understand that there were Australian Air Force aircraft involved too". "One," he replied in a clipped, short voice. "And the pilot was something of a masterful one as well. I took the liberty of looking into his record after the event, and it turns out he's something of a prodigy. He's well on his way to becoming an ace, which is no mean feat in this current world. And his record for air-to-ground performance, as well as his performance in exercises and simulations are above all averages; close to being on par with my own". King and Bishop both looked surprised at that revelation, something that Zachary took as a small comfort. "Even with normal aircraft?" said the badger curiously. "They hadn't been enhanced at all, just stock F-15's?" "Yes," replied the Snow Leopard with a nod, eyeing his leader, who now looked pensive. "They had no obvious modifications, or enhancements. And even if they did, the UN or any of the National Powers don't have any access to the Higher Technologies..." he drifted off, as the badger looked concerned still. "No," he said a moment later, pacing on from where he'd stopped in front of a reproduction of an ancient mariners' map showing Antarctica as a green and verdant continent. "They don't have any widespread knowledge. But there are some groups, we all know that. Those that have strayed from our path, and have gathered with others that have dangerous knowledge, or information that they've gathered over time" "You think that they suspect something then? That there's some kind of organization being formed against us?" added the Gazelle, her superior expression wiped clear from her face now in the face of the idea. "Could that be a possibility?" "It wouldn't be the first time," replied the badger. "We've been opposed before. The Allied Powers in the Second World War had their suspicions, and had numerous group dedicated to our opposition. And even further back, there were groups during the US Civil War, and in the Renaissance... But in this age of global information exchange and near-instant communication, the danger is much greater". "We have more control of information though," said Bishop, some of the snide arrogance returning to her voice. "We can regulate and control the channels of information, through the White and Black networks easily enough. We've done so before, and always have - no one could find the existence or Knights' aircraft, or of our weapon systems already in place. Or of this facility and others like it. Or of our technologies and scientific achievements - all of these things are completely under our control and influence, and no member of the public, other than those seen as fringe lunatics, would believe any of it is real, or that we even exist!" "Only because their leaders have no evidence or motivation to believe such things are true, and that their advisors and staff are telling them the same thing," countered Zachary, backed up with a thoughtful nod from King. "If they were given enough assurance of the opposite, then their opinions would change, and people would start looking. And if they looked hard enough..." he left the rest of the sentence unfinished, the silence hanging in the room for long enough to be uncomfortable. "Well," said the badger briskly, returning to his desk and sitting down. "In that case, we must use this to our advantage. If there is such an organisation abroad, then we must do our best to deal with them. They have information about our plans, information they believe is accurate. Those plans and operations are vital to our continued goals, so we must carry them out; but with, perhaps, some modifications to lure our enemies into the open". He leaned forward over the desk, and the gazelle and snow leopard leaned in closer as well, beckoned by the badgers smile, as he began to outline a new strategy.

July 22nd 2017 Ramstein Air Force Base, Germany 10:30 hours

The air was cool, and sweet on his face. Beside him, she laughed softly, smiling beautifully in the evenings' sunlight as it gleamed off of the brass sheen of the elegant spires and walkways. In the distance, the soft sighing of the sea against the shores could be heard. Her hand was warm in his as they walked, and she pulled playfully at his hand, tugging his fingers, her tail bumping against his intentionally, and a smile on her face as she coyly leaned her head against his shoulder. It was the most natural thing in the world to drape him arm across her shoulders, and draw her close. Over their heads, the lights of the city came to life in a gentle chime, drawing off of the days' stored energy. At the centre, even visible from their place in the outskirts, the Centralia slowly glowed with warm, beautiful light. Everyone stopped and watched - it was part of life. Their pendants clinked together as she turned to face him, her muzzle tilting to meet his, her green eyes looking deep into his own... The sky split with a rumbling discharge of energy, splitting the soft pastel blue like a white crack in the world. Static pricked their fur, as the ear-splitting crack was followed rumbling that reached deep inside, rolling around the ribs and chest after coming up through your legs. All at once, streaks of fire lit the sky, slashing through the air to hit buildings and topple the elegance of the cities' architecture into the streets below. Screams rose to meet the chime of the distress calls. People ran in terror as darting shapes began to gather through the air, darting through the spires, as clouds began to curl above the Centralia, its' lights dimming. A light split the skies, this time growing into burning intensity, washing the colour out of everything, the air charged with static as the light grew into a pillar from the ground to the skies, thickening with an audible crackling, hissing sound. Her eyes met his again, this time filled with terror, her thick auburn hair dancing with the hot winds coming from the centre of the city. He had nothing, his mind a whirl of panic, and he reached out, folding her into his arms as the light grew too bright...

Sean woke up with a start, flailing through soft, cool sheets, and drawing in a breath of cool air. He sucked in a deep breath, and moved to rub one hand across his face, halting as he felt tugging on his arms. Pausing, he looked down at his arm, hesitantly as he felt pressure over his injured eye, and gently probed the area, feeling a cotton bandage in place, all of which felt clean and cool to the touch also. He continued his look down, and found his arm hooked up with clear plastic tubes, which ran to a variety of machines. With a sigh, he leaned back on the thick pillows behind his head, confused by the lingering thoughts of the strange dream he'd had moments earlier. "Major," said a soft woman's voice a moment later, and he turned his head in alarm, looking to the source of the voice, surprised he hadn't flagged the person earlier. "Don't worry," said the speaker as his eyes fell on her. She was seated, cross-legged, in a hospital chair at the end of the bed. The morning light through the window stung his eyes, and he rubbed at his face for a moment, before looking at her again, frowning. "You've been asleep for almost two days, Major," she continued. Sean was content to let her talk as he tried to get his senses functioning properly. He looked at the woman, trying to gauge who she was; and what she wanted. She was an exquisitely groomed and presented rough collie. Her near-blonde, white, and brown fur shone in the light slanting through the slatted blinds of the room. The slender, sleek figure she had was wrapped in a well tailored skirt-suit, and - he couldn't help but smile - a pair of ray-bans sat in her lap. There was no mistaking the fact that she was a genuine beauty. Her figure was perfectly proportioned, and she was tall and had a grace about her. But, as most people would be surprised to hear, as gorgeous as she was, she wasn't really his type. Not that it mattered in this situation. He opened his muzzle to ask more questions, but found it dry and stale. As he tried to take a breath, his dried-out tongue stuck to his mouth, and he coughed a few times. The Rough Collie unfolded herself from her seated position and crossed to his bedside, pouring him a glass of cool, clear water from a glass pitched next to the bed, which he accepted gratefully, eyeing her carefully as she returned to the seat, noting the way she moved in confident, yet elegant, movements. And the bulge at the back of her waistband above her tail that showed whoever she was and whatever group she was with; she was packing firepower. The water chased away the dryness in his throat, and he gave a soft gasp of relief before he turned his attention back to the Rough Collie, forming the words again. "So," he said after a moment, as the sound of jet engines rattled the glass in the windows, "Who are you? And how long have you been waiting for me to wake up? And," he added looking around at the room, "where am I?" "So many questions," she answered with an amused smile, her tail wagging slowly. "But that's not surprising; I'd be confused in your situation too. You've had quite a time lately, what with all the excitement. To answer for you, my name is Rebecca Stewart. Or, if you must-"her muzzle fell in a grimace that showed what she thought of the title "-Agent Stewart. I work for the Avalon Foundation, which I'll go onto in a minute. I've been here for around twenty minutes. The Doctors had instructions to inform my superiors when you were clear of surgery and in your room. I got a flight out here from our headquarters after that. And, major, you're in the hospital at Ramstein Air Force Base in Germany. Somewhere I'm sure you're familiar with, although not the hospital I hope. You were airlifted here from Bagram after your rescue. You were stable, but needed time to recover in secure surroundings, away from the battlefield". Sean leaned his head back on the pillow, content with the answers for a moment, and needing time to adjust to them. The anaesthetics still in his system were clouding his mind, and making it hard to focus on his thoughts, or what Rebecca was saying. As he slowly processed the information, he took another sip of the water as he formed another question which he pushed out with careful thought. "So that's who you are, but what do you want with me? This 'Avalon Foundation' of yours, what do they do? Are you part of the US Government?" The Collie settled in her seat, eyeing him over, and he met her gaze, not looking away as her cool gaze roamed over his features before she spoke. "The Avalon foundation isn't part of the United States Government per se," she began, "but we do work closely with them, and receive a great deal of funding and co-operation from them. We also share many personnel and facilities with them, as well as a great deal of information. Not to mention other key NATO and United Nations members as well. We are very concerned with defence and security, as well as developments regarding scientific advancement and the pursuit of knowledge, for the prosperity of peace, and the preservation of our race for the future." "Security against whom," he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I haven't heard of you people before. You weren't involved in the war I was flying in, unless you're some kind of spook operation or something. Or some civilian group that spends a lot of time and effort talking about things, and then never doing them; which sounds exactly like what you do, with what you've said so far, actually" The collie raised an eyebrow in return, and gave a dry chuckle. She looked out the window again, her eyes tracking the shape of a distant C-130 Hercules transport as it rolled onto the runway, holding short with all four propellers turning as the pilot waited for clearance. As the plane began to move, she turned back to Sean. Studying him for a moment, she moved her hands up, and began to undo the buttons on the suit jacket she wore. The foxes single eye widened in surprise as she followed with the buttons on her white blouse, the insides of his ears flushing a bright red and his muzzle opening as she gave a sniggering laugh as a white lacy bra holding a generous bosom was revealed. "Don't get too excited, major," she said with a laugh in her voice. "I like you, but we've only just met. It wasn't my chest I was planning on showing you, it was this". The tip of one of her slim fingers looped around a delicate chain, hooking it free of the ruff of caramel-coloured fur between her similarly shaded breasts, lifting the elongated, three-sided pyramid shape up to the light, where it glinted with a dull sheen. Sean recognised the metal for what it was immediately (once he started looking at it) - the same material that the pendant he wore was made of. And as he hooked a fingertip around the leather thong on his neck, he was surprised to feel that same vibration as in the dogfight over Tajikistan. Only this time, it was dozens of times more intense. As he lifted the disk shape clear of the unflattering hospital pyjama gown, the pendant emitted a melodious humming sound, the one held in Rebecca's fingers doing the same. "What the hell?" he murmured softly, as the pendant swayed gently on the leather thong, moving gently against his fingers, arcing minutely towards the rough collies' own pendant. "Why is it doing that? This has never happened before... do you know something about this?" "A little," she replied, letting the pendant fall back on its' string, and tucking it back into her shirt and buttoning it back up. "And I didn't believe any of it at first. It was so utterly ridiculous sounding that I couldn't. But then I saw the technology, and the ruins, and saw what the people we're standing against could field against us - just as you have - and let's just say that my mind has been changed. Like you, the foundation wanted me for my skills, for my brains, and because I'd already seen something up close". Sean shook his head with a bitter smile on his face. "I think my skills aren't going to be much help," he loosely gestured to the dressing covering the left side of his face, and the ruined eye. "Might be able to get certified for flying a Cessna with this thing, but I'm not combat pilot material anymore. All that training and experience, all the things I've done..." he trailed off, and looked away from the rough collie, embarrassed as he felt tears welling in his good eye, his lips trembling and twisted in bitter anger. "When I mentioned technology," she said in a much softer, more sympathetic voice, reaching out to place one cool, soft hand over his, "I was thinking of the things the foundation can do to help you. Your injuries can be... dealt with, remedied and worked with. The Foundation has been performing research and development for decades - longer - with the technology in their possession. Some of the things they can do are astounding, major. And they want you to work with them". Sean's hand tightened under hers, not holding or gripping it, but enfolding her fingertips in the curl of his hand, before he looked back at her, his single brown eye looking deep into the sparkling enthusiasm in her cornflower blue eyes. "You say my C.O. has spoken to this... foundation... and wants me there?" Rebecca reached into the inside pocket of her suit jacket - which still hung open - and withdrew a smart phone, tapping the screen to wake it up, before selecting a number from the directory and passing it to the bed-ridden vulpine. The screen displayed the information and telephone number for Colonel Michael Carlson, his commanding officer back at RAF Lakenheath. Sean looked at Rebecca, who smiled and nodded to the phone, and he tapped his thumb against the 'dial' button on the screen, lifting the slim handset to his ear as it began to ring. After a few rings, the other end picked up with a clear, strong signal. "Colonel Carlson's office, how can I help?" Sean recognised the voice of the secretary, having had to deal with her in a few times. She was an extremely focused person, dedicated to her career - and with not much time for small talk. "Sergeant Abel, It's Major Blade; I'm using Agent Stewarts' phone, and calling from the hospital at Ramstein. I was told by her that Colonel Carlson spoke to her superiors. I just wanted to speak to the Colonel for some clarification about what's going on". "Major," answered the squirrel with some surprise. "I'm glad you're awake, I heard about your injuries. Just a moment, I'll connect you to the Colonel". A hold message sounded for a few moments, and Sean flicked his eye to Rebecca, who had sat back, watching with interest as he waited on the line. He turned his full attention back to the phone as the line cleared and the Colonel came on. "Major? Carlson here; glad to hear you're back in the world of the living. That was some feat you pulled out there, getting away from those bastards. When you're back on your feet, I want to hear all about it. I've heard that The Chief wants to hear it from you too, when he can find a moment in his schedule". "Sir, yes sir. Thanks for your concern, and I'll be happy to talk about my experience with you. But I have another reason for this call at the moment, sir". "The Avalon Foundation; you want to know if they're legitimate, major?" "Yes sir, that's correct. I have an Agent Stewart with me now, and she claims that you've recommended my transfer to this group, whoever they might be-" "Major - Sean - let me say this. That group is into things that I don't quite understand. They're half-submerged in a world of ops so classified that I'd be under security surveillance just for asking questions about them. But on the other hand, they have a huge civilian staff, and a lot of their research filters back into civilian areas of research. They need skilled, smart people, who can operate in a relaxed, unorthodox atmosphere. I think you'd be perfect. Not to mention, Sean, that some of their technologies and equipment will help with the injuries you've sustained. And the Air Force has... different requirements... for it's pilots that might mean your career could be... different". The fox paused, listening to the man on the other end of the phone - but there was nothing else coming. The decision was his and his alone. "Thank you, sir," he said finally, "Your information is very helpful. I didn't want to throw myself into this without knowing what I was getting myself into. Especially with the situation I encountered out 'there' and all". "Major - I know you well enough to know that all you want to do is fly jets and you're damn good at doing it. You're a good pilot, and you could be a good officer, if you settle down and stop being such a headstrong ass all the time. But a headstrong ass might be just what they need. And they can get you back in the air too. Do yourself a favour - accept the offer, have a look at what they can give you, and make a decision. Whatever you plan to do, I'll be here if you need any advice. And for when you want that conversation too. Give my regards to Captain Maine and Lieutenant Winter when you see them also". The line went dead before he could ask about Max and Taia, and he returned the phone to Rebecca wordlessly. She pocketed it again, and studied him from her chair, as he looked around the room as he thought. For the first time, he noticed the vase with the brightly coloured flowers on the nightstand, and a card at the bottom, signed in several colours of ink and styles of handwriting. He picked it up in his left hand, moving the limb carefully with its' tubes attached, and held the card up to read it, lips moving silently.

Hey boss, waiting for you to get back to us. We always knew you were out there. See you soon, Mainline x Hi chief. Can't wait to raise a glass with you, got the Bourbon on ice already, and a cigar waiting. Get well soon, Ice. Get your arse back in the air. Shooting up that Iranian Patrol made us look bad, flyboy. Zane. Thanks for the help, sir. Looking forward to thanking you in person, first round's on me. Devil

_ _ His gaze moved down to the final signature, which was written in a much more flowing and flowery hand than the others. Curious, he read over it slowly.

Dear Blade. Thank you for saving us in the fight. I'm so sorry for what happened to your friends, and to you. If it wasn't for you, then Red and I wouldn't be here. I can't wait to meet you, so I can thank you for what you've did. Get well, get strong, and I will be waiting to meet you, and say thank you.

_ Best wishes and care for a quick recovery, Dart xxx_

He smiled at the message, heartfelt as it was. Rebecca smiled also, nodding at the flowers. "They were here when I got in. The nurse said that there had been four pilots here every day since you got here. Eventually, she had to agree to call them as soon as you woke up, just to get them out from under her feet, and stop them pestering the other staff. They must really care about you, major". "I only know two of them," he said in reply, touching the petals of the flowers with a smile, and then turning to look at the collie. "Yes," he said a moment later, with a smile. "Because, that's why they ain't here, isn't it? They're already at whatever base it is you people have". She grinned and nodded, her hair shining like a halo in the bright summer sun from outside. "Of course," she answered with a chuckle in her voice. "We couldn't not ask them, after all; I knew you wouldn't come without them - any of them - and besides, they were n the same incident you were involved in. And they're all damn fine pilots too, and we need more of those as soon as we can get them. You saw what the pilots we're up against are like! And now, we have you too". "You can really fix this," he said, gesturing to his eye. "And whatever else is wrong with me too, for that matter". "We can't replace your eye," she said, more serious. "But with what we have got? We can make things good enough that it won't matter that you don't have it any more. As for anything else - you're not in too bad shape. A couple of cracked ribs, a few sprains, and a touch of dehydration and fatigue, all of which you're over the worst of already. You're a tough one, sure enough". He smiled at that, and shifted in the bed, looking back up at the ceiling. He wasn't sure what he'd gotten himself into with this Avalon business - but if the Colonel was backing him, and Taia and Max had gone for it, then it seemed on the level. And the lure of flying was too strong to back away from. And then there was the lure of whatever was behind the pendants, the strange reaction his had shown to the one Rebecca wore. He could still feel it against his breastbone, a spark of warmth and a slight trembling vibration against his fur. It was too much to pass up. The potential for answers, and for having a purpose and direction; the same things he'd feared would be lost when he'd been struggling through the desert. It was the only real route to take. "When do we go then?" he said eventually. "And where?" "Not more than a day or so - we have medical facilities on our base and nearby that can deal with the rest of your convalescence, and we can begin your teaching and training at the same time. And it'll be in a much warmer, more pleasant climate too - I'll leave the rest as a surprise, shall I?" "Why not," he said back, a soft smile still tugging at the corners of his muzzle. Rebecca squeezed his hand one last time, before gathering her personal items together again, and refastening the buttons on her jacket and heading for the door. She paused with one hand on the handle, looking back towards him as he met her eyes. "I know you're worried," she said, in the same level, serious tone she'd used earlier. "But don't be. Trust me, from someone who was right where you are now: one day, you'll look back and realise this is the most important thing you ever did, and you'll wonder why you ever hesitated. And I'll be there laughing along with you". The Rough Collie slipped the Ray-bans on, and stepped out through the door, a wave of noise briefly intruding into the room, before the door swung closed again, returning him to a peaceful quiet again. Engine sounds boomed and rolled distantly, and the windows rattled again. Despite himself, Sean smiled at the sound and lay back in the bed. He couldn't wait to get out of the hospital, and to get back together with his friends. He traced the outline of the pendant under the hospital gown, and thought on meeting Dart - something else he was looking forward to meeting with her, at last.

TO BE CONTINUED

Glossary

NATO: North Atlantic Treaty Organization. An alliance of North American and European countries originally put together to face the threat of Soviet Aggression, but since the end of the Cold War, operating as a mutual defence and action group against all aggression and conflict.

UN: United Nations, a co-operative council of nations formed after the Second World War as a forum for discussing ideas, concepts, and regulations that have the potential to affect the world as a whole, and dedicated to improving the quality of life for all people. The UN has no actual governmental power of its' own, nor any armed forces, but acts as a point of contact and appeal for the many countries that are members.