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Chapter 3
Elena Michaels
Hanger Four
Vladimir Air force base
1850 hours local
I was taking a look at some of the other planes that the Air Force had. The one I was looking at would have fit well in the
night. It was jet black with a few streaks of red along the center and on the edges. The planes engines where huge. I could
have easily fit into one of them standing straight up. The emblem on the tail had a red skull with some kind of yellow serpent-thing
coming out of the skull’s mouth and eyes, with another grey larger serpent-thing coming around the skull and looking
about to swallow the yellow serpent-thing. The identification said: ‘SCHWARZE SQUADRON -- 13th Night Fighter Air Division
/ 6th Tactical Fighter Squadron’
“You like my bird?” someone asked. I spun around, surprised. How the hell did he manage to sneak up on me? I wondered.
This guy had a lot of facial hair, and didn’t look to be that strong, but he was wearing that same drab green colour
‘flight suit’ as Bird Dog had called it. He held out his hand and said: “Captain Dominic Zubov.”
I reluctantly shook his hand and said: “Elena Michaels.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said. “You’re new here.” That wasn’t a question, but a statement.
“Yeah, I’m new here. How’d you-”
“If you weren’t new here, you’d already know me. Or at least you’d know what people call me.”
“What do they call you?”
He smiled and said: “people call me ‘the Vulture’ among other things.”
There was a long silence that followed, save for the aircraft being launched on the runway, and then he said: “so, who’s
your flight lead?”
“Actually, I’m not in the Air Force. Or the military for that matter.”
“Oh… well, if you DO join let me know what squadron you end up in.”
We both left the hanger. Dominic however took off in his plane and went for some kind of mission.
I went to Bird Dog’s room (or Quarters, as the base personnel called it) and knocked.
“Come in,” he said as I opened the door. He was filling out a few forms of something, he looked up and said: “oh,
hey Elena. What’s up?”
“I just wanted to ask you if you where planning on joining the Air Force again.
He shrugged, and said: “well, technically, I never left. That’s why I’m doing this” he gestured at
the paperwork on his desk. “All this is backlog stuff. Anyways, I still have a lot of years of flight time left in me.
I’m 27, and for a fighter pilot, that’s in his or her prime.”
I nodded and said: you know you’re going to have to tell Jeremy about this.”
“Yeah, I know.”
As if on cue, Jeremy contacted us telepathically that night. The ‘connection’ was a little fuzzy though. Almost
like using a cell phone in a building, now weather that was from that Yuri guys own psychic powers disrupting it, the distance
between us all, the fact that he was trying something that he never tried before (contacting more then one of us at one time)
or some combination of the three, I’ll never know, but he did a good job with it.
Jeremy was a bit worried about Bird Dog going back into active combat again, what a little incident last year that had dropped
out numbers to five, and Jeremy was not keen on losing one that he just gained, if only through sheer coincidence. So, he
made me join as well. I was the most logical bet because I got along with him fairly well, and for another thing, Antonio
and Nick where busy with their business and Clay… well, he didn’t get along with Bird Dog, and had absolutely
no desire to join an organization that was completely human.
Don’t get me wrong, I also didn’t want to join because werewolves don’t use guns. We just don’t. Although,
Bird Dog said that in an aircraft, you KNOW you are killing people, but it doesn’t FEEL like you are. That plane over
there? It’s just a target and the crew are incidental matters. It’s the same with ground targets, you know you
are dropping bombs, and you know that they’re blowing up, and you know you are killing people, but from where you are,
you can’t see them.
Now, if that sounds cruel, inhuman or just wrong, well… it can’t be helped. That’s simply the cold, hard
truth.
Supreme Commander Romanov
Bear Valley, New York State
1833 Hours Local
I was going to Stonehaven again. This time, assuming Yuri’s information was accurate, to let Jeremy Danvers know that
we had found out about them. It was a dangerous idea as again, assuming Yuri was right, they could easily kill me. However,
to prevent that, I was going along with a team of Cossack Spetsnaz. Spetsnaz are one type of Special Forces. The other type
is KGB Operatives. Cossacks, however usually make the best of both Special Forces. If anyone can keep a person alive in even
the toughest types of terrain, a Cossack can.
The Mi-24 ‘Hind’ helicopter Gunship landed and we all got out. Of course, Clayton Danvers was there to ‘greet’
us, but he was turned away by my guards.
Jeremy was in his study when I walked in. he looked up, met my eyes, but I couldn’t read his expression.
“Commander,” he said formally. “What brings you here again so soon after our last meeting?”
“According to one of my top Psychics, Captain Patrick Roy and Elena Michaels have certain… anomalies in them.
I wanted to ask you if that was true.”
I could tell that he was slightly confused at the way I worded my question, but he caught on and said: “I see, what
are the nature of these ‘anomalies’?”
“Our psychics picked up… well, even they have no idea what it is, but it is giving them cause for concern.”
“I see…”
I was going around the question, I knew, but what I was hoping for was that he would reveal the information I wanted without
realising it. Unfortunately for me though, he seemed to know his way around answering questions. I knew from background checks
that he once worked as a translator, although I didn’t check out where exactly he once worked. Possibly for the United
Nations… I thought.
Eventually, after going around the question so many times that I felt like I was right back where I started, I decided to
come right out with it.
“Our Psychics told us that Captain Roy and Elena Michaels are werewolves. They didn’t tell us very much, only
that they have a Pack of sorts, and that you are the leader of said Pack.”
His expression was unreadable again, and Clayton came into the room.
“Clay…” Jeremy warned.
He looked at my guards that had surrounded me. One look from them said that he’d be dead long before he could lay a
finger on me.
“In case you are thinking of killing me,” I said. “I also have an extremely powerful Spy/Attack satellite
watching my movements all day. If you kill me, the Satellite will see it and open fire. It is extremely precise, and it can
annihilate this house in less then a second.”
That was both true and false. The Satellite I mentioned could not attack, but it WAS a spy satellite and an extremely powerful
one at that. It could literally view a small game of chess and determine what the next move should be, even if the game was
being played at the deepest played at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. So, in a sense, I was calling their bluff, while at
the same time telling the truth, if that makes any sense. So even though it couldn’t fire anything, it could direct
something else to fire.
Clayton cast a hard glance my way and left, slamming the door shut behind him.
There was a lengthy silence between us, and then Jeremy said: “because you now know about us, you will probably find
out about the other races too. There is an Interracial Counsel meeting in the next few days. I’ll tell the delegates
that you will also be there.”
“’Interracial Counsel’?” I asked. “What’s that?”
“It’s the supernatural version of the United Nations. The meeting will be in three days, in the town of Long Bay.
I’ll give you a map so you won’t get lost.”
I reluctantly took the map, even though I could have a satellite easily find the town, and have a Chronosphere teleport me
there, all in less then a second or two.
I left shortly afterwards. The trip back to Moscow was as easy as it was leaving it. A time-space portal (as our Officers
call it) opened, and sucked the craft in, transporting it through time and space to appear over Moscow. The time of travel
is less then one second when traveling in this way, although the first time you try it, you get a little nauseous.
Once I was back in my office, my aide called.
“Sir,” he said. “You told me to notify you when Captain Roy got back on active combat duty.”
“Da, of course. Thank you.”
“Sir, there is something else. It may be nothing, but I think you should know about it.” He hesitated, waiting
for my approval.
“Go on…”
“Elena Michaels has joined the Air Force, Silber Squadron to be precise. Apparently, Captain Roy vouched for her.”
“WHAT!?”
Silber Squadron was for cadet pilots who seemed to display a certain natural aptitude for combat flying. Of course, they didn’t
just let anyone in. it consisted of four trainees, and one top ace who lead the formation. You had to have someone, a top
Ace pilot, vouch for you. As trainee Squadrons go, it was the best possible way to start, and at the end of a cadet’s
tour with them, they where arguably some of the best pilots anywhere.
“When is Silber Squadron’s next mission?” I asked, my thoughts spinning.
“One moment, Sir.” There was a pause then: “I’m sorry, sir, they just launched four minuets ago.”
Dammit! I thought.
“What about Captain Roy? Where is he?”
“Just a moment, Sir.” Another pause then: “I’m sorry Sir; he doesn’t appear to be in the base.
I’ll let you know the moment he arrives though.”
I sighed, and then said: “very well.”
Why do things never go exactly as planned?
Chapter Four
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