Eve of Destruction (c) 
Chapter Thirteen 
By Fiction Writer #13 
(nosex, sci-fi, paranormal)

"My goodness, Malcolm," Elissia purred as she slinked her way over 
to her brother's side, "I think you broke the poor man's brain."

Allen's world was spinning out of control yet again.  It seemed like 
every time he finally came to terms with this new reality, Malcolm 
threw him another curve ball.  Still shaking off the effects of Elissia's 
charms, the addition of this new revelation proved too much for him to 
comprehend.

He was lost, confused, things he had never felt before.  He had 
always been able to find the conformity within the chaos, the pattern 
in the maelstrom, but not this time.  He was back to square one; first 
day of school in a world he thought he knew but now realized was 
nothing more than a sham.  The wool had been pulled over his eyes, 
he was duped.

His only hope was to hold on tight, hold on to what he thought was 
real, but the world was spinning so fast, so damned fast.  Flickers of 
light played at the corners of his eyes.  The room stretched and faded 
at the edges.  He focused entirely on the un-made bed before him 
and staggered towards the comfort it promised.  Soft bedding, warm 
sheets, and then a moment of darkness as his vision contracted to 
pin points.

"Allen?"

A voice called to him from far away; a deep voice, a commanding 
voice.

"Allen?  Come back to us, Allen, this is no time to pass out."

Allen blinked a number of times, each flutter of lash and lid wiping 
away the silver sparkles that obscured his line of sight.

"Come on, Allen, we don't have all day." Malcolm's face loomed over 
him.  He was smiling, and yet there was clearly some concern in his 
eyes. "Never would have taken you for the fainting type."

Gravity returned to Allen, the weight of the world tugging him down, 
holding him steady.  The room stopped spinning. "I... I don't know 
what came over me."

Elissia peeked over Mal's shoulder. "Feel better now?"

"Yeah, um... yeah," Allen shook the last of the cobwebs free, "much 
better."

Elissia grinned. "Good.  Now please get the hell off of my bed before 
you get drool on my pillow!"

A flush of embarrassment washed over Allen as he slowly sat up, 
wiping spittle from his cheek. "Sorry."

Mal helped him to his feet. "Okay, let's try this again.  Allen, this is my 
sister Elissia.  Elissia, this is Allen."

Elissia extended a delicate hand to Allen. "Not everyday I get to meet 
a man who falls head over heels for me."

Allen shakily took her hand in his. "It's not everyday that I find out that 
everything I thought I knew was a lie."

He turned to Malcolm, his eyes pleading for answers, for truth, "Your 
sister Mal?  Not once in all the years that I've known you, have you 
ever mentioned having a sister."

Elissia pulled her hand free of Allen to deliver a punch to her brother's 
arm. "You prick!  I've been locked up in here helping you and you 
don't even have the decency to tell people that I exist?"

Malcolm groaned. "Elissia, please, not now.  Allen, for obvious 
reasons, I couldn't tell anyone about my sister.  If the Council knew I'd 
be in a cell right next to her, or worse, I'd be dissected."

Allen nodded. "I guess that's a good enough reason.  But, I mean, 
how?  I can't say I see any family resemblance between you two."

Mal stopped him, "Half sister.  Sorry, I should have said that first, but 
I was a little worried about telling you in the first place that it never 
occurred to me.  Different fathers but we share the same mother."

"Evangeline."

Allen spoke her name aloud without realizing he had done so.

"Yes," Elissia answered. "She was one of the first of my people 
captured and imprisoned here."

Mal took over. "My father was the one chosen to study her; to learn 
as much from her as he could.  Along the way they developed 
feelings for one another."

Allen gave Elissia a hard look. "Can't imagine how that could have 
happened."

"She didn't trick him, if that's what you are implying," Elissia snapped 
back. "Christian was immune to her charms, at least the magical 
ones."

Mal jumped in. "It was one of the reasons she fell for him.  He was 
honest with her, without her having to exercise her talents."

"So, she was a... a pixie?  Like Elissia?"

Elissia rolled her eyes. "I hate that term.  Humans call us that, among 
other nasty things, but that one really gets under my skin.  It 
infantilizes us, makes us sound weak, like a friendly character in a 
child's nursery rhyme.  My people were once the most powerful force 
in our universe.  We traveled the stars and walked with our Gods.  
The Dark One took that away from us, but humans took the rest."

"I'm... I'm sorry," Allen stuttered. "I didn't realize."

Elissia softened her grimace, "Its okay, Allen.  I've learned not to 
blame all of humanity for the crimes of their ancestors.  But I'd prefer 
if you would call my people by their rightful name, not by the one 
created to keep us down."

She placed her hand on his shoulder, "I am an Illitharian.  My home 
world was Illithia, and before it fell, it was a place of beauty and 
wonders, where peace and knowledge reigned supreme.  All of that is 
lost now.  Our cities, our world, our knowledge, our history, our 
legacy... it's all gone.  All that remains are a few survivors, and our 
memories."

Allen watched silently as a tear formed at the corner of her eye before 
it slid slowly down her cheek.  The hand on his shoulder trembled, 
whether from anger, fear, or loss, he could not tell, but the pain she 
felt inside was evident.

"I can share those memories with you.  That's why my brother 
brought you here, to see them with your own eyes.  But I can't force 
you; I wouldn't, even if I could.  You have to decide for yourself."

Allen looked into her pain filled eyes. "Will it... will it hurt?"

Elissia shook her head. "No.  You won't feel any physical discomfort."

Allen now shook his head.  She had misunderstood. "Will it hurt you?"

"No." Elissia let out something between a sob and a chuckle. "No 
more than the hurt I already feel.  But I want to share this with you.  
Sharing my memories... my people's memories... it... it's as close to 
keeping our dream alive as we may ever get."

Allen gazed into her eyes, searching for any signs of deception, but 
found none.

"Okay.  What do I have to do?"

Elissia smiled through her tears. "Thank you.  Thank you for doing 
this for me.  Mal was right to trust you."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The private jet's engines screamed in the confined space of the 
hangar as the pilot spun the craft around one-hundred eighty degrees 
before returning to the runway where it had just landed.  Jonathan 
marched across the wide open space, heading for a little used door 
located at the back of the hangar.  The door opened before he could 
enter his ID code.

"Welcome to Wright-Patterson, Mr. Reynolds." The young man 
speaking wore the blue standard service dress uniform of the U.S. Air 
Force; the insignia identified his rank as a Technical Sergeant. "If 
you'll come this way we'll get you to your connecting flight."

Jon moved quickly through the door and entered a long hallway that 
sloped gently downward.  The door to the hangar closed on its own, 
cutting off the deafening noise of high powered jet engines.  
Fluorescent lights buzzed above him in the drop ceiling, his shoes 
click-tapping on the green-grey laminate floor tiles below as he 
followed his escort.

"Has my package arrived?"

"Yes Sir.  It's been placed with your gear as per your orders."

"Good.  How about..."

"Your three p.m. briefing..." the Sergeant handed over a packet of 
papers bound within a red folder, "... was just faxed over."

"Thank you." Jon took the offered report and began to flip through the 
pages of coded information.  The first page contained something that 
caused an involuntary reaction. "Well I'll be damned."

"Sir?"

"Ah, nothing Sergeant," he lied.  It really was something.  His little 
plan, the one he had sent into action no more than thirty minutes ago, 
was already starting to take effect.

Between the warring countries of North and South Korea is the most 
heavily defended border in the entire world.  This border, called the 
Demilitarized Zone or DMZ for short, is chock full of land mines, 
barbed wire, electric fences, and other booby traps.  Soldiers on 
either side stand a stoic guard, watching, waiting for the other to 
make any kind of aggressive move.  The U.S. is there as well, 
Marines standing beside the South Koreans to further deter the North 
from doing anything it might regret.

Within the DMZ, near the western coast, sits the village of 
Panmunjom.  The border splits the village in half, and at its center is 
the Joint Security Area.  A telephone line connects the two posts, a 
single phone on either end.  The Americans have used it on several 
occasions, they made various attempts to open up communication, 
but the North had never answered the ringing.  That is until fifteen 
minutes ago.  The report in Jon's hand didn't go into any detail about 
what had been said, but the words didn't matter, the action spoke 
louder.

Jon flipped through the pages searching for anything else that might 
require further attention.  He received briefings like this four times a 
day, sometimes more if he was monitoring a specific problem.  If 
anyone intercepted this fax, they would have a difficult time 
deciphering the code, but Jon could read it as easily as a Sunday 
newspaper.

It was designed to be confusing, even if the cipher was broken.

The topics covered in these briefings varied wildly.  Politics and world 
affairs made up the bulk, but there were also mission updates, 
scientific announcements, and even a few pop culture tidbits.  
Anyone who read it might mistake it for junk or a decoy, but in Jon's 
hands it was an invaluable tool.

Another item drew his attention, this one buried between a report on 
whale migration in the Pacific Ocean and the predicted weekend box 
office numbers out of Hollywood.  There was a problem with one of 
NASA's satellites.

The Solar & Heliospheric Observatory, SOHO, a project of 
international collaboration between ESA and NASA to study the Sun 
from its deep core to the outer corona and the solar wind, was no 
longer sending a signal back to Earth.  None of the large radio dishes 
around the world which formed NASA's Deep Space Network had 
received a signal from the satellite since noon, shortly after a routine 
uplink sent a new software update.  Mission control, based at 
Goddard Space Flight Center in Maryland, had yet to make a public 
statement regarding the satellite's status.

It may have been nothing, but Jon didn't like to take chances.  The 
prophesy mentioned a "Long Night", whether that was literal or 
figurative no one could say for sure.  Jon liked to be prepared on all 
angles, so he pulled out his cell phone.

"Sorry Sir." The Sergeant made a move to take the phone from him 
"Communication devices are forbidden in this area."

Jon ignored him and flipped the phone open. "You do know who I am, 
right?"

"Yes Sir, but regulations..."

"So you know that I out-rank you?"

"Yes Sir, but..."

Technically this was true.  Jon held a high rank in every branch of the 
military, even though he had never served a day in service.  His ranks 
were more honorary than earned, at least by normal standards.  
However, with his enhanced knowledge, strength, and thousands of 
hours of virtual, MERI and real world combat experience, he would 
have easily made his current ranks the hard way.

"I'm making this phone call, you can write me up in your report if you 
feel the need."

"Sir, you... you won't be able get a signal down here."

Jon smiled. "You just need the right service provider."

The phone connected as any other would, but not by normal means.  
Jon had made good use of Malcolm's occult contacts and specialists 
over the years, amassing quite an arsenal of magical trinkets and 
gizmos.  The phone on which he was now placing a call could make a 
connection just about anywhere, even if there were no cellular towers 
in range.  Its signal was broadcast through the Ether.

The phone rang three times before the answering machine on the 
other end picked up; A life-like but computer generated female voice 
spoke.

"Hi!  We're not home right now, but if you leave a message we'll get 
back to you as soon as we can."

Jon waited for the beep before speaking, effectively holding two 
conversations at once.

"Hi Honey.  I'm going to be late tonight."

'Checking in, still on assignment.'

"Could you order from that Chinese place for me so it's waiting when I 
get home?"

'Need further info on some items, use the menu code, have it ready 
when I arrive at destination.'

"I want a pint of beef with broccoli and some vegetable lo mien."

'Item number thirty-six, the SOHO problem, and item number four, 
the activity in Korea.'

"Thanks Honey, I'll see you when I get in.  Bye."

He flipped the phone closed and found the Sergeant staring at him.

"What?  I'm hungry."

His escort shook his head before continuing to lead him down the 
long ramp.

"You'll find your gear stowed in there." He pointed to a door on the 
right. "When you're set, I'll be waiting here."

"Thank you, Sergeant."

Jon entered a small locker room lined with low wooden benches.  
Showers could be seen through a gap in the far wall.  On one of 
benches rested a black flight suit, the insignia of Aurora noticeably 
missing from its sleeve, as was any mention of nationality.  Beside 
the suit rested a large sea-bag, filled to the brim and packed solid 
with everything Jon had requested for this mission; everything except 
for one item which Jon had sent to the base in secret.  It rested on 
the floor in a plain brown box, sealed tight with tape, and a large 
printed warning to not open it.

Jon locked the door before moving to open the box.  His knife sliced 
through the tape easily enough, but the next layer of protection 
required a more delicate means.  Opening the box in any other 
manner would completely destroy its contents.  The knife glinted in 
the flickering fluorescent glow as he drew the sharp end of the blade 
through the flesh of his thumb.  The incision opened cleanly, not too 
deep, but deep enough to draw blood.

The crimson liquid flowed in pulses, drops of it splashing against the 
cardboard lid where the tape had been peeled away.  It sizzled and 
hissed where it fell.  Wisps of white smoke lifted from its surface 
before dropping back down, pulled by an invisible force.  Hair-fine 
purple lines flowed from the blood, covered the box in a spider web of 
designs.  Jon waited for the blood to finish doing it's work before 
pulling the lid open.

"Perfect," he said to himself while lifting the item free from its 
confines. "You'll do nicely."

In his hands he held a sphere of glass about the size of a baseball.  It 
was a deep blue color but its center was much darker.  The light in 
the room passed through it, but seemed to reflect off veins of a mirror 
like substance that radiated from its core.

"Now to keep you a secret until I need you." Jon pulled some of his 
socks out of the sea-bag, dropped the sphere into one, and then 
placed them both into his canvas backpack.

He quickly donned his flight suit, slung his pack over a shoulder, and 
gripped the nylon cord that closed his sea bag before rejoining the 
waiting Sergeant.

"Find everything you need?"

"Yes." Jon readjusted himself to ease his burden. "Yes I did."

"Just out of curiosity, what was in that box?  Security had a hell of a 
time with it."

Jon smiled.  He knew they would. "Travel insurance."

The Sergeant gave him side-long glance but decided not to press his 
luck with another question.  The ramp continued down until it 
terminated at a pair of steel security doors.  After entering in a twelve 
digit code on a keypad, the doors slid open.

"This is as far as I have clearance.  Your aircraft and men are waiting 
for you just past the second set of doors."

"Thank you, Sergeant." Jon nodded when the man saluted; his own 
hand was busy holding gear.

The doors closed behind him before the second set opened.  On the 
other side was a large, well lit hanger, in the center of which rested 
the most technologically advanced aircraft in the world.

"Sonofabich!" Jon cursed as he shook his head. "Number Five!  They 
gave me fucking number Five?"

There were seven Aurora class aircraft in service.  Auroras one 
through four were fast attack fighters.  Six and seven were heavy 
bombers.  Aurora five, though still capable of the same feats as its 
brethren, was a behemoth by comparison.  The huge wedge shaped 
craft was designed as a stealth transport, either cargo or personnel.

Irate, Jon flagged down the closest maintenance tech dressed in an 
orange jump suit and tore into him, "You!  Why the hell am I flying this 
craft?"

The man, caught a little off guard by Jon's tone, came to a skidding 
halt and nearly dropped his clipboard, "Sir?"

"I asked why in the hell you have me set to take off in broad daylight 
in the biggest fucking Aurora there is?  Has everyone forgotten that 
these aren't supposed to exist?"

"Sir, I... we were told to have Aurora Five ready for you."

"Why not One, or Two, or Three or fucking Four?"

"Orders Sir; from the top; came in about half an hour ago."

"What?  Who's orders?"

The tech flipped through the pages attached to his clip board. "Uh, 
here it is.  The order came directly from the Council."

"Who authorized it?"

"Says here, it was... that's odd."

"What?"

"It says that you authorized it."

Jon pulled the clipboard free from the tech to see for himself.  There, 
on the required line, was indeed his signature. "I didn't sign this.  
Someone's trying to fuck with me, and I don't like it."

Jon handed back the clipboard. "Sweep the craft, again.  Make sure 
that everything is in order, check everything."

"Yes Sir." The tech was off before Jon could add another word.

The delay would add another half an hour but would give him time to 
feel out the new men, the very same men he was now fully convinced 
would be attempting to kill him.  Since it hadn't happened yet, and he 
was damn sure they wouldn't risk losing an Aurora just to take him 
out, it would most likely occur once they landed in Australia.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Okay, so how do we do this?" Allen trembled in the faint glow 
emanating from Elissia. "Is it like some kind of Vulcan mind meld or 
what?"

"What ever that is, no, it's not like that." Elissia moved closer, the top 
of her head barely reaching beyond Allen's chin.  She looked deep 
into his eyes. "A lifetime can be lived within a single shared moment.  
A kiss."

"You want me to kiss you?"

Elissia nodded.

"You okay with me kissing your sister, Mal?" Allen nervously 
chuckled.

"Just get on with it, Allen, time's ticking.  We only have a minute or 
two before the door opens."

"Okay, okay.  Just give me a second to... Hmmph..."

Elissia's hand caught Allen by surprise as she pulled him down by the 
back of the head until his lips mashed into her own.  At first his eyes 
went wide, the shock of the situation sending his heart into an excited 
fit of thumping.

She hummed softly once he began to relax, a contented purr that 
lulled him deeper into the kiss.  His arms found their way around her 
waist, his hands pressing softly into flesh through her gossamer 
clothing.  As his eyes fluttered closed his lips parted, allowing her 
persistent tongue entry, where it quickly found an eager partner to 
dance with.  A waltz, a tango, an embrace of warm, wet, softness.  
They made love within the hot confines of their mouths.

The change was a subtle one.  His thoughts, so focused on the lithe 
form pressed against his body, barely noticed that the warmth of her 
had increased and spread to envelope him.  One moment her lips 
were sliding against his, their touch softer and softer, until he finally 
had to open his eyes just to be sure that she was still kissing him.

The light in the cell had changed drastically in the few seconds in 
which his eyes had been closed.  It was brighter, far brighter than he 
remembered.  It stung, blinded him until he blinked several times.  
When his vision returned his breath left him.

"What the?"

Elissia was gone, as was Malcolm and the cell.  Allen stood upon a 
high hill under the light of twin suns; one blue and distant, the other 
white and looming huge in the sky.  The sky itself was lavender with 
fuchsia clouds streaking from horizon to horizon overhead.  There 
were things moving through the clouds.  Aircraft of some kind, though 
they looked more like bioluminescent plankton seen through a 
microscope.

Allen's eyes followed one of the craft as it lazily dropped lower and 
lower until his gaze found its destination; A city.  A magnificent city.  A 
city stranger than anything he could have imagined possible, 
stretched as far off as he could see.  Gleaming towers of crystal, a 
million colors and shapes, organic in construction, chaotic with 
activity, but there was order, a sense of purpose and direction within 
the swarming madness.  The whole city seemed to shine with an 
inner glow, much as Elissia herself did.

Allen tried to will himself to move, but found it impossible.  It seemed 
he was only along for the ride, an observer in another's memories.  
Even his eyesight was not his own.  He believed that it was his own 
wish to look upon the city, but when his view suddenly moved on it's 
own it left him with a mild sensation of vertigo.

When the whirlwind movement halted, the face of a beautiful woman 
filled his field of vision.  No, not just a woman; an Illitharian woman.  
She towered over him, smiling warmly, her blond her blowing gently 
in the breeze.  She possessed the bluest eyes Allen had ever seen.  
Eyes that reminded him of the glacial blue both Helen and Eve had 
inherited.

She was holding on to someone's hand, a tiny feminine hand 
attached to a thin arm, a child's arm that led back to where Allen 
figured his own shoulder should have been.  Allen quickly figured out 
that it must have been Elissia's arm, since this was her memory, but it 
was still an odd thing to see.

"Are you having fun sweetie?" the woman asked, but she wasn't 
speaking to Allen.

"Yes mum," a young child's voice answered.  The sound of it startled 
Allen, as it seemed to come from within his own skull.

A dark shadow passed over the woman's face.  A gust of cool wind 
blew her hair wildly in all directions.  Allen's own vision suddenly filled 
with strands of coppery red hair before Elissia's hand appeared, 
brushing and holding it at bay.

A quick view shift back to the city as the same massive shadow that 
blanketed mother and daughter now crept closer and closer to the 
city.  The darkness grew deeper as the outskirts were swallowed.  
Elissia's eyes moved to the skies above.  The white sun now gone, 
blotted out by a massive aircraft.  It was immense, far bigger than 
anything Allen had ever seen flying.  Its underside was completely 
black and shaped like a hexagon.  Thousands of smaller craft began 
to spew out of the larger ship.  They swarmed, as thick as a nest of 
bats exiting a cave for an evening of hunting.  Sirens began to wail, a 
high and keening call to seek safety.

"Papa!  What is it?"

Elissia's eyes searched wildly until they found her father standing 
behind her.  His hair was a deep blue color, his skin almost glowing 
with a golden light.  He looked angry, his teeth clenched almost as 
tightly as his fists were.

"I warned them, I told them that He would not abide by any treaty.  
Now it's too late," he growled low in his throat. "We've lost without 
even putting up a fight."

Allen could feel the panic, the fear coursing through Elissia as her 
mother picked her up and held her close.  The desperation in her 
voice did nothing to help her remain calm. "We have to run!  We have 
to hide!"

"The ship; we have to get back to the ship!" Elissia's father pulled 
mother and daughter along, guiding them through a crowd of 
Illitharians who had gathered on the hill for some kind of celebration, 
a festival of fun and music.

Explosions rocked the ground.  Blinding flashes of light.  Screams 
filled the air as they began to run down the far side of the hill.  Allen's 
view, Elissia's view, was from over her mother's shoulder, and from 
that perspective they watched as the city of light began to crumble.

VABOOM!

Ground... Sky... Ground... Pain... Darkness...

"Allen, come away.  We have to go." Malcolm's voice called him out 
of the darkness.

Allen opened his stinging eyes, his face soaked with tears.  Elissia 
pulled her lips free, breaking their kiss.  Her face mirrored his; So 
much pain, so much loss.

Mal grabbed Allen by his shoulder and dragged him through the open 
door of the cell, but not before he managed to choke two words from 
his tightening throat.

"I'm sorry."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The fourteen solders stood silently beside their packs.  All were 
dressed in black assault uniforms loaded down with field equipment.  
Jon eyed them from a distance, hidden by one of Aurora's landing 
struts.

'This isn't right,' he thought to himself. 'Even the best soldiers relax 
when there isn't an officer present.'

The number of them caught him off guard as well.  They matched the 
number of loyal troops Jon had already assigned in Australia, took 
away the slight advantage he thought he might have.  But there may 
have been another reason behind the number of selected soldiers.

'Fourteen.  Just like, just like when I... when we...'

Jon sucked in a deep breath, blew it out in one long gust.

'Get your shit together Jon.  Take control of the situation.  Take away 
their advantage.  Find the head of the snake and cut it off.  You can 
do this; this is what they made you for.  Remember what the Doc told 
you.  Nothing is impossible, just improbable.  Fuck the odds.'

With that he marched directly towards the gathered men, his voice so 
loud it made a few of them flinch before standing at a stiffer attention.

"Will somebody tell me why in the hell you are all dressed that way?  
Didn't you get the mission briefing that I sent out?  Were you 
misinformed or are you all just fucking stupid?"

No response.  They all remained in place, eyes forward.

"I asked a question.  Now someone give me an answer."

At first none of them made any move to speak, but then one stepped 
forward.

"Sir, there must have been a miscommunication.  Our standing 
orders are to be in full combat dress." After speaking the man 
stepped back in line.

Jon moved to within inches of his face. "I don't know whose orders 
you were following before you got this assignment, but now you 
belong to me.  Understood?"

All fourteen answered as one. "YES SIR!"

"Good.  Now that's clear, listen up!"

Jon paced from one end of the line to the other. "We are heading into 
a civilian environment, not a battle zone.  The local authorities are 
taking care of our cover-story and have evacced all non-essentials 
out of the area.  However, there may be unregulated eyes in the skies 
looking over our shoulders.  To prevent drawing any undo attention, 
we will be operating as if we were any other scientific expedition.  
That means civvie dress, civvie speak, and no weapons.  Keep radio 
chatter to a minimum.  There is to be no mention of rank or anything 
else that may identify us as a military operation.  Am I understood?"

The slightest of pauses before they answered, "YES SIR!"

Jon stopped and faced them, searching their faces for any signs of 
trouble. "Get out of that gear and stow all weapons, we won't be 
needing them where we're going."

At first no one moved, but then Jon caught some of them glancing 
towards a soldier on his left.  Not the soldier who had previously 
stepped forward to speak, no, that one was a decoy.  The looks were 
barely perceptible, but Jon caught them.  They were waiting for this 
one to make a move, waiting to see how he would react to the new 
orders.  The moment he began to pull gear from his uniform they all 
followed suit.  He was the real one in charge, and now Jon knew it for 
sure.

'Gotcha.'

"Once y'all are set, climb aboard and strap in.  I'm flying this bird."

More glances, this time identifying the pilots among them.  Two at 
least, maybe a third, it was hard to tell with all of them stripping down 
and digging into their packs for civilian clothing.

Jon checked his watch. "We're going wheels up in fifteen whether or 
not you are on-board, so pick it up, boys.  Time's a waste'n.  Make 
sure all gear is stowed properly.  When we lift we'll be going straight 
up, full speed, cloak on.  The cloak will only keep us invisible for ten 
minutes before the damn thing overheats, so we only get one shot at 
breaking the ceiling before we are detected by civvies'.  Total flight 
time is one hour.  We'll be landing on the dark side, about twenty 
miles outside of our target destination.  I'll be leaving two of you with 
Aurora."

Jon scanned the group as they struggled to get dressed and stow 
their weapons back into the lockers where they had found them 
stored.  He thought about assigning the leader to guard duty, but 
decided against it.  They would just defer to the next one in line.  
Better to stick with the enemy you knew.

"You and you," He pointed to two men he was sure were not pilots. 
"You'll be responsible for Aurora once we land.  Standard field 
cammou nets, cover the whole damned thing.  Make sure nothing 
happens to it."

"YES SIR!" from the two of them.

"Get you're asses on-board." Jon turned his back and headed up the 
ramp into the belly of Aurora.

"We've got a date with destiny, and that bitch hates waiting."



Continued in Chapter Fourteen....


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