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2

The internal comm of the drop ship chimed.

"ETA to the Wolf's Tooth, twenty minutes," said the pilot. "Stealth field is in play and there appears to be no pursuit. It is now safe to leave the harnesses."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," said the Marine sergeant. Ritter recognized the tenor voice from the comm earlier. He also suddenly noticed that only the captain and the sergeant had the ribbed chest pieces. All the other Marines had the winged wolf sigil, but the chest plates were flat. And every single one of them had tails, with the same stylized wolf helms.

'Which Marine unit did this group belonged to,' he silently wondered. 'And why was a captain in charge of such a small unit?'

He suddenly felt a cold gaze upon him, and quickly turned to see the captain staring at him. Again, that predator/prey feeling came over him. Why was this captain so hostile? What had he done to receive such attention? Then a thought hit him, and he glanced towards the doctor. Ritter stopped the thought before it could completely form and slowly shook his head. No, that wasn't possible. Their orders had been from high command, and he had followed them to the letter. At least up until they had run into that Xelfarak patrol. A patrol that was not supposed to have been were it was.

All around him, soldiers and Marines were going about trying to relax. Several of his men had snuggled into their harnesses and gone to sleep. A handful of Marines had unhooked the harnesses and were proceeding to check their individual equipment. Then, all of them, starting with the sergeant, removed their helmets.

The sergeant reached up and seemed to press something located just behind the right ear of the helmet. The helmet then seemed to slide backwards in small sections, starting at the nose. Like a wave of metal moving backwards, the helmet flowed over and around the head that emerged from with in. As what remained of the helmet slid onto the back of the sergeant's head and then down into the metallic collar of the battle plate armor, Ritter looked on in awe and surprise. Shoulder length brown hair fell down onto the battle plate pauldrons as the head of a young female Raccoonin1emerged. The raccoon like head shook itself once, and then she reached up and massaged her jaw.

"Damn," she said, her voice now definitely feminine, "I hate not being able to use my jaw in those things. You'd think they could develop a helmet that allowed us to talk normally by now. Instead they still rely on those vocal nerve casters. I hate it! Hate it! Hate it!"

"Get use to it, sis," said one of the Marines that had escorted Ritter and his men, the sound of amusement in his voice. This one was also a Raccoonin, though male. "Until R&D comes up with a helmet that allows us to use our jaws with out our noses being shot off, you'll have to live with it. At least it beats being encased in a bio-metal virus skin. You'll never feel anything again."

"Hear, hear," said another Marine, a male Black Guarden.

The female Raccoonin snorted in indignation. "Shut up, Karl. You too, Roy. Both of you know that a bio-metal virus is very rare, and the Syntax only use it on the most grievously wounded; and that only under the most careful observations. Besides, most of our equipment wouldn't work at all if it didn't incorporate some amount of bio-metal. Our society uses more of it then either of you realize."

Both Karl and Roy burst out laughing, and the fur on the back of the female's neck bristled with anger. Before she could respond to their obvious jibbing, a Marine towards the back of the shuttle, this one a white Foxin, looked over to her and spoke. He had been hunched over a portable computer terminal, punching up some sort of data.

"Sergeant, I'm going to need those data cards for the report. And the equipment checks still need to be done." His voice was mellow and flat, as if he was giving a standard data report to the board of directors in a business, or simply talking about the weather. It was almost a bored tone.

"Sorry, Wulf," the sergeant said. "You heard the man; fork over those cards. Axel, I want a report on our armor in half-an-hour. Felix, check and clean each weapon, it's your turn. Karl, why haven't you double checked the comm system yet? Make sure you hand your report to Wulf when you're done. Kiyoshi, I want an inventory of any explosives and grenades that were not used. We'll have to return them when we get back to base. Yeriel, make sure we have all our medical supplies. Elek, check on the power cells, both ours and the army's. Recharge or replace any that need to be. Chop, chop, people. Let's move it. Nic, check the army for any wounds; let Yeriel know what you need. Viktor, check with the pilots about our ETA with the cruiser."

There was a collective, "Yes, sergeant," and everyone of the Marines started to move.

A large red Foxin2suddenly stooped over the doctor. "Easy, governor," he said in a thick New London accent, his deep voice seeming to rumble from inside his chest, as Jacob jumped in surprise. "Just check'n to see if you need any patch'n."

Jacob gave a short bark of laughter. "I'm fine, Nicodemus. Just tired." The doctor looked past the field medic to the female Raccoonin. "Hello, Cassandra. It's been a while."

Cassandra cocked her head slightly and gave him a warm smile. "Hi, dad."

Jacob frowned. "Cassandra Iason, you know perfectly well that William Iason is your father, and I will not have -"

"William's dead, Doc," Karl cut in while he double checked the comm equipment. "Committed suicide when his doctor told him that he would never be a father." He glanced up at Jacob, a look of sadness in those deep brown eyes. "He wanted another child, and after trying to get mom to agree for a while he went to see the doctor. Mom told him, and us, the truth after he came back from the hospital." He looked back at the comm equipment. "He was dead by the end of the week; jumped from the Trenton Valley Bridge."

Cassandra watched Jacob's face contort with a look of horror and sadness. William and Jacob had been close friends in collage, and it was also where William had met his future wife, Sandra. They had been married shortly after they graduated. Cassandra stood up and sat down next to him as Nicodemus moved to the next person. A protecting and supporting arm wrapped around Jacob's shoulders. An easy feat give how much larger she was than him, even in the bulky armor.

"Don't blame yourself, dad," she said. "You were trying to give a family to a friend, no crush him. And both Karl and I know that we were born in incubation shells, not in mom's womb. We also know that you only contributed your genes to provide some stability to our biology when William's wouldn't take. You, however, are now the closest person we have to a father." She gave him a warm smile, again. "Plus, its nice to know that we have a younger half sister."

Jacob gave her a thin smile and sighed. Sandra and he would have to have a long talk about this, when he got back home. He looked between the brother and sister. Jacob had forgotten he had given William and Sandra Iason twins. Despite the fact that one of them was male and the other was female, they looked completely identical. Karl kept his hair much shorter, but other than that, they looked much the same, down to the black line of fur that ran down the top of their snouts between their noses and the black mask around the eyes. He had planned to give them twins, but not identical. Sandra had been aware of the truth about William's genes from the beginning. She and Jacob had been neighbors and friends for years after college, and had remained close after Jacob had been assigned to the Marine Project.

Jacob had been aware of the fact that growing children, no matter how superior they might be genetically, to kill for their government was morally wrong. This gave him the idea of having them raised with a solid family background. Where possible, the people doing the raising would also share the genetic background of the children, hence the 'parents' would donate genes for the production of the children, and thus making it easier to include the child in the family. It also gave those parents who could not, or were unable to, have children a chance to raise a real family. Jacob went to the Clan Council and proposed his idea. At first, it was not excepted very well, especially by those who were not part of the military, and both sides argued for almost two hours over the moral obligation of raising children to kill. Finally, Clan Master Barbara "Darkrose" Shifter, daughter and oldest child of the first Sapphire Prince, gave Jacob the approval to go ahead with the plan. There was a brief out burst of disapproval, that was quickly squashed with a glare from Darkrose. No one, save her husband and the ruling Prince, were going to tell her how to run her Clan.

Nicodemus Meinhard, the red Foxin field medic, and Wulf Friedhelm, the white Foxin tech expert, were the first two of the group to fall under the program. Nic, as his friends and family called him, was an easy going, almost jovial, soul. While not a joker, he laughed easily, and took to lightening the mood of those around him with his banter and casual conversation about just about anything. He was normally only silent when he was concentrating on his job, like now, but radiated a quiet confidence that made him easy to like. He had always gravitated towards the natural sciences, finding a deep love of biology and chemistry. His mother, Cheyenne, was a nurse, and had encouraged here son to take up the same field.

Wulf was almost the complete opposite. Quiet and a little introverted, he preferred to keep to himself and the company of his equipment. His family was a little weird as well. His father was a white Foxin who worked on computer hardware and software, while his mother, a white Guarden, was a mechanic that helped put together and maintain the ships and and shuttles for the Clan. Strangely enough, when Wulf was four years old, his mother gave birth to twins, both girls. The older of the two, by almost an hour, had developed a fondness for weapon technology, while the youngest was into armor. Wulf himself dabbled in just about everything technical, but loved working on his squads equipment most of all. As well as doing the reporting and data collecting that the others hated to do.

Karl and Cassandra had been among the last children that Jacob had a direct hand in bringing into the universe. They were also two of three children that he had used his own genetic material with. Only his daughter, Esther, had been raised by himself. Then, like all those that were part of the Marine Project, when she hit fifteen, she was taken away to attend the Marine Academy. That had been four years ago. Jacob had tried to keep tabs of her, but the Academy had wanted him to stay away so that Esther could concentrate on her training. He had not seen her since. Karl and Cassandra, though they had not know about sharing their genetics with Esther, had instinctively kept an eye on her for Jacob. Cassandra had come to love the young Guarden like a sister, and had been extremely up set with the Academy heads when Jacob had not been permitted to see her. One of the last messages Cassandra had sent, now a little over a year ago, had included a picture of Esther's graduation, with her standing at attention, dressed in her official Class A uniform.

Cassandra, seeming to read his thoughts, gave him another warm smile.

"You miss her, don't you?"

"Esther?"

Cassandra nodded.

"Yes." Jacob sighed and leaned back into his seat. "More than I can put into words," he said. He stared up at the ceiling. "I should call your mom. I'm going to have to talk to her about all this."

Cassandra opened her mouth to say something when the comm chimed.

"Docking in three minutes."

"Stow the equipment and return to you seats, gentlemen," Cassandra ordered. The Marines quickly obeyed.

The drop ship shuddered a moment later.

"Docking clamps engaged. Lowering landing gears," the pilot intoned.

There was another shudder.

"Docking concluded," the pilot said. "Ramps lowering. Proceed to disembarkation."

There was the resounding snap of harnesses releasing as the doors to the drop ship opened to the whine of hydraulics. Everyone rose as one and proceeded out of the door. As everyone stepped down the ramp to the deck of the shuttle bay, a team of men went up into the drop ship to retrieve the bodies of the two fallen soldiers. Another team directed Ritter and his men towards a door on the far side of the bay, while the Marines took Jacob with them through a door directly opposite of the drop ship. Inside was a small room filled with electronic equipment and several computer terminals. Standing just inside of the door on the far side of the door was a tan furred Ratin3in the naval uniform of a Lieutenant-Commander, his light colored fur contrasting greatly with the deep blue uniform. Wulf moved over to one of the computers and inserted a data cable that he pulled out of his portable. The Lt-Commander watched him for a moment and then faced the Marine captain.

"Welcome back, Captain. After you have your equipment stowed, and have changed, please proceed to Briefing Room Three. Take Sergeant Iason, Corporal Iason, and Private First-Class Friedhelm with you. The doctor was also requested to attend."

"Will Captain Strauss be doing the de-briefing," Cassandra asked.

The Lt-Commander paused. "No," he said. "The Clan Master wants to do the de-briefing herself." The Ratin gave a quick salute. "Captain Ravenwolf. Marines. Doctor." He then turned and quickly walked out of the room.

Jacob's body had gone ridged at the name of the Marine captain. His hackles raised up and pressed against the collar of his armor, almost painfully. Slowly, he turned with widened eyes, filled with a mixture of surprise and fear, to the tall figure that stood to his right and slightly behind him. He found the captain staring right at him, the helm still on.

"Esther," he asked tentatively.

The captain reached up and released the helmet catch for the first time. As the helmet disappeared into the collar, crimson red hair that fell almost to the shoulders dropped loose. A black furred wolfen head turned slightly, as the jaw worked out the stiffness caused by the helmets restriction. Then, with both triangular ears facing forward at full attention, two cold, emerald green eyes stared down the long muzzle at Jacob.

"Hello, father," Esther Ravenwolf said in a flat, emotionless voice that did little to dispel the anger that burned in the back of those eye.

1A Raccoonin is a race of man like beings that resemble, superficially, the raccoons of Old Earth. They usually stand between five-in-a-half feet tall to six feet tall. Raccoonin colorization is much like their earth born cousins; mostly brown or gray, with black markings on their bodies, and black rings on their tails, which are long and bushy on average. Not every Raccoonin has the black mask on their face, nor do those that do have the same size and shape. Eye color has the same range as those of humans. This race have a monarchical government, with an elected parliament to run the day to day doings of their society. Raccoonins have a deep respect for nature, and try to live in harmony with their world, rather than over it.

2Foxins came originally from the same planet as the Raccoonins, the world of Ralconis, though they never had a large population until they left their home world and colonized the world of Fanix some four hundred galactic years ago. Much like the Raccoonins, they resemble foxes from Earth, but in the shape of a man/woman. They stand a little taller than Raccoonins on average, though not by more than a couple of inches. Unlike their Terran cousins, fur color does not change with the seasons. A white Foxin will stay white in summer, and a red Foxin will stay red in winter. Again, like the Raccoonins, Foxin eyes have the same range of colors as humans. Foxins tend to be clannish, with no real central government, save in the direst of needs, at which time they elect a Prefect to handle the crisis. Once that crisis is over, the Prefect must stand down, and the army return to their respective clans. Do to this process of recruitment, just about every citizen is trained to serve in the military.

3Another race from Ralconis, Ratins are a race of 'rat-men' who were once the scourge of both the Raccoonins and Foxins. Most Ratins stand between four-in-a-half to five-in-a-half feet tall. It is a rare Ratin that gets to six feet tall. The fur color ranges from white, tan, browns, and black. Some Ratins resemble rats, while some resemble mice. Eye colorization is a little more restricted than the other inhabitants of their world, with red, yellow, brown or black eyes. Occasionally one will be born with blue eyes, but these are extremely rare, with one being born once every other generation. Contrary to their appearance, Ratins do not breed like 'rats', though they do have large and extended families. Ratin society tends to be highly militaristic, with their government leaning closer to a stratocracy than any other type of government. Ratins once had an expansive empire and had conquered great swaths of Raccoonin and Foxin land until both races had risen up to defeat them.