So this is war, she thought to herself as she cowered behind the pile of dusty cardboard boxes. The dampness from the rain soaked up through her pants as she sat on the dirty, uneven pavement of the narrow, blind alley. She could hear gunshots down the road, with their strange, twanging echoes. Now and again, a distant explosion would shake the rooftops, showering her with years of accumulated dust and soot.

Alone in the dark, she recalled the mad rush. The TVs blaring as people hung on the words of the reporters, then the frantic phone calls, with cell phones dropping people left and right. Cars screeching down the streets… and then cars not moving at all, as the major roadways became parking lots. Then there was no one in the cars: mothers carried screaming children, fathers carried luggage. Most of them were weeping. And there were those who gave up, who knew it was too late to run. They sat in their cars, or on the road, or just stood listening to the broadcast from hundreds of car radios, as announcers gave a blow-by-blow account of the ranks of soldiers, tanks, and other war machines that bore down on them from all sides.

I’m going to die here, she thought to herself as she hugged her legs closer. Here in this dirty little unkempt alley, behind these stinking boxes, just like so much trash.

A nearby explosion shook the ground. She ducked her head as more debris fell on her hiding spot. Something flew over the alley, briefly obscuring the sky above.

After all, that’s all I am to these people. Hot tears cut trails through the grime on her cheeks. Just so much trash.

This was probably the most difficult fight he had faced in nearly a decade. The half-evacuated city, with houses left wide open and cars crowding every major thoroughfare for miles around, left the enemy lots of cover to pick and choose from. The fact that there were civilians hiding everywhere didn’t bother them, as they had demonstrated on previous occasions.

The one good thing was that the crowded roadways prevented most of the heavy artillery from entering the city. All the tanks were fighting in the outskirts of the city, which were mostly empty. His unit was the only sign of heavy war machinery around.

The Suits, as they were called, were hundreds of pounds of pneumatic actuators, a huge quantum battery, and enough ammo to last three times as long as that battery, if he was careful. All this was tucked into what might be called a humanoid shape - if you forgave the total lack of hands, head, or features - and controlled by a special neural interface that had to be surgically implanted.

“Earth to Alrhael! Did you hear me?”

“Sorry! I got caught on some loose shingles,” he lied as he continued to make his way over the rooftops. He blushed in the privacy of his Suit when he realized his comaerade’s com light had been on for over a minute.

“I said, have you been monitoring the local radio station?”

“I thought that was Jerhan’s job,” he said, scanning the area before moving on to the next building.

“He’s just encountered a group of enemy who were executing noncoms. He’s a little busy.”

“Allright, monitoring radio,” he said, triggering the mental switch. He dialed in on one station just in time to hear the scratching noise of tapes being unexpectedly switched.

“This is the Humanitarian alliance. We now control this city. Give up now and we will spare the lives of the civilians within these bounds…”

“Heard that before…” he muttered to himself, moving up the bandwidth as he re-opened the com to his right-flank comrade.

“Shranta, they’ve already got at least one station, scanning for more. Pass it on.”

“Got it!” she replied. He expected her to cut the com and pass it on immediately, but… “Have you encountered any Heads yet?”

“Not so much as a single bullet,” he responded, pausing before a big jump. He checked his monitors before taking the leap. “But I hear fire up ahead.”

“Good. Had me worried for a second. You’re the only one who hasn’t engaged yet. Out.”

Last one to engage, huh? He thought, checking that against their entry pattern, and that against the computer’s map. Must have come in through the business district. Typical.

He was quickly approaching the source of the gunfire: an intersection of two car-packed streets, with UN and Alliance troops splitting it diagonally.

He shot two grenades for the Alliance lines and began taking out the troops in the houses. He then dropped between two houses and cut through the alley, putting him behind enemy lines, and safely out of sight.

In the shadows of the alley, he took the time to note the three main concentrations of alliance troops: in the building across the way, hiding behind the abandoned cars, and… a small group walking away?

They’re removing some noncoms, probably, he thought. He leaned out a little and zoomed in, confirming his suspicions as he sighted a distinctly short personage being roughly handled by one of the troops.

Alrhael made a snap decision. Ignoring the troops in the streets, he ran out, shooting at those in the building. He heard bullets hitting the Suit, but ignored them. A quick flip to infrared confirmed that all the soldiers in the building were down. He skidded to a stop, turning to pursue the escort group.

He knew he had to act fast if he was to keep civilian casualties down. He switched to his sniping view, feeling the legs of the Suit lock as he quickly made his first sight and shot. Dead. He moved on to the next one, firing off six shots in a row.

The seventh ducked behind a woman who was madly screaming, causing him to pause.

He heard a clang as a magnetic grenade hit his back. He switched to regular view, but left his legs locked as he waited for the thing to go off.

It did, and while the explosion was deafeningly loud and shook his body till it hurt, he was only a little worse for wear. He checked the battery to make sure it was undamaged, enlarged his rear-armor display, and dumped another grenade behind him as he took off after the escort.

He had closed about half the distance between them before one of the soldiers was smart enough to realize that hey had lots of hostages at hand. He snatched a child from his mother’s arms, and placed a gun against the kid’s head. His four remaining fellows did the same with other noncoms, one grabbing a woman by the hair.

Alrhael quickly ducked into an alley on his right, hoping his sudden disappearance would prevent them from shooting their captives, well aware that they had little inhibition when it came to blowing off the heads of innocent people. He looked around for some access to the roof, and, finding none, decided to jump for it.

He landed with only a slight skid, and made his way forward, trying to stay just out of sight of his target, while he followed their progress by sound.

He let them proceed for nearly three blocks before he decided that they had relaxed enough for him to take down the remaining four soldiers…

She wasn’t sure what happened. All she knew was that fire had broken out just as a group of people passed her little alley. Gunfire deafened her, and she heard screams of women and children, as well as men. Then she heard a small explosion as a rocket was launched. After two nearly silent seconds, the missile exploded right above her. Metal and stone shrapnel pelted the ground around her. One piece sliced into her back, making her scream in pain.

She collapsed, gasping. A loud thump just a few meters away made her look up. The explosion had knocked her almost out of the alley, so she lay totally exposed to the large machine that had landed in the middle of the street.

A shout from down the way made her look. Several alliance soldiers lay dead, while about twelve people scattered, running from them. She looked back to the machine, which hadn’t moved.

It was opening. The front panel was slowly pushing forward until the interior was visible. It looked like there was someone inside.

Unsure if it was friend or foe, she tried to crawl back into the alley, but the pain in her back had spread to her chest.

The front panel flopped forward entirely, and the someone fell unceremoniously to the ground. He wore a black body suit with a high thick collar, the matte darkness of which contrasted badly with his pale, sweaty face and hair. He rolled on the ground a bit before he managed to get a shaking hand on the collar and rip it away. She was surprised to see what appeared to be wires popping out of sockets in his neck.

He reached in the cockpit of the machine and grabbed a com unit.

“Alrhael to base, my gyros are out, request airlift.”

“Already? Register shows that you’ve only used a sixth of your ammo.”

“Got hit by a rocket. Oh, and it looks like the alliance is taking as many noncoms hostage as possible.”

“Noted. Sending airlift for you and your Suit.”

He placed the com back in his machine and rubbed his neck with a gloved hand.

“Down already. Guess I’ve lost my touch.”

All of a sudden, pain lanced through her lungs. Unwillingly, she leaned forward and coughed, trying to stifle the sound with her hands.

It was no good. He looked over at her with concern on his face.

“Hey, you all right?”

She tried to back away, but only started another coughing fit. Something warm and wet covered her hands.

“Hey!” he was putting his hand on her back now. “Say something!” his hand slid down to where she was cut, and she cried out in pain.

“Sorry! Listen, we’ll get you back on the lift, and someone can get a look at you – “

She looked up at him in surprise. As she did so, he went from pale to stark white.

“Sweetheart, I think I better put a mayday on that transport.”

She was confused, but another set of coughs took her. When she was done, she looked at her hands.

They were covered in blood.

Alrhael rushed back to the suit picked up the com, and switched his bandwidth to medium-high priority.

“This is Alrhael, I need a mayday on that transport; have a noncom, serious wound, needs immediate attention, repeat mayday.”

“Request Acknowledged, though I have to tell you, we’re in the middle of repelling an attack on our medical unit. Heavy artillery.”

“Damn.” He turned back to find the woman trying to stand.

“Hey!” he rushed over to her. “None of that!” he gently pulled her back down. “We can’t have you losing any more blood.”

She looked at him as he carefully guided her movements. While he was unusually pale, his face was actually very pleasant to look at. His features were strong, but not quite sharp, and his pale skin and hair gave him an almost ethereal look, especially since his eyes…

“Are… you wearing makeup?” she managed weakly.

He stared at her, his eyebrows up in surprise. Then he smiled and gave a small laugh.

“You mean this,” he said, pointing at the coral-colored eye shadow. He sat down next to her. “Yeah. Most of us do.”

“‘Us?’” she asked, her voice wavering. As Alrhael watched her, she began to sway slightly from side to side.

He reached out, grabbing her shoulder gently. “You had better lay down. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Mmm…” was all she managed.

Realizing she was going into shock, he carefully held her by the shoulders, and, considering her wound, he laid her face down on the road.

“My people, the Darhad,” he explained, hoping the conversation would help. “We’re a special branch of the UN’s genetics department.”

“You…’re… with… the UN?” she asked in a slurred mutter.

“That’s right.” He said. He noticed her eyes flutter, and leaned in closer.

“Stay with me, sweetheart. The transport will be here soon.”

Her eyes, which seconds before had been focused on the pavement, rolled up to look at him.

“Ya know… you remind me of….”

He could hear the chopper approaching, but he didn’t turn to look. It could get there on its own, and he suspected that what she was about to say was significant… at least, to her.

“Of who?”

“The man… in the book…”

“The book?” asked, confused.

Her eyes rolled back toward the pavement.

“Not… ‘portant.” She muttered.

The chopper was landing. Three engineers jumped our and ran to the Suit, while a fourth person, a medic, he hoped, ran over and began to go over the woman.

“Damn. How long has she been like this?”

“Ten minutes,” Alrhael replied. “She was coughing up blood earlier.”

“Punctured lung,” muttered the medic, quickly wrapping her torso in tape. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.” He cursed as he stood, motioning for the backboard. “To boot, the Alliance has begun to strategically attack all of our medical units. Something about using genetic materials in our medicine.”

“That’s right along their line,” Alrhael said as he watched them strap her to the board.

“Hits close to home for you, huh?” asked the medic.

“Yeah…” said Alrhael, thinking. “Hey!”

The medic looked down, startled.

“Have they got the City up yet?” asked Alrhael.

“The city?” asked the medic.

“The Darhad City,” Replied Alrhael. The medic shook his head in confusion.

“Don’t sweat it. I’ll just take her with me.” Alrhael stood and nodded once to himself.

The medic looked skeptical. “Is that even legal?”

Alrhael smiled reassuringly. “It’s not like there is anywhere else for her to go.”

They walked toward the chopper, the medic shaking his head.

“Hope you’re right, Al’had.”

She might have woken up a couple of times. She vaguely recalled pain as someone unwrapped her chest, and a mask being placed over her mouth. A swirl of lights and the mutter of voices were all she could remember of the other instances. What little she heard and saw assured her that she was in a hospital, so that when she did become fully aware of her surroundings, she only slightly surprised.

The room was pale yellow, and while there were no windows, a gentle light filtered down through the ceiling, warmly illuminating the interior.

The room was about as bare as any other hospital room might be. There were gadgets on one wall, dispensers, shelves, and countertops on the other. And across from her, a curtain obscured what she was certain was a door.

As though in answer to her thoughts, she heard the door open, and listened as the two people who entered spoke with one another.

“… isn’t the only one making use of these facilities. With the Alliance now strategically attacking hospitals, military or otherwise, the UN is getting pretty desperate.”

“What about the refugee camps?”

“Overcrowded and understaffed as usual.”

“Do we have people helping?”

The curtain was pulled aside. The two men looked at her, surprised.

“I didn’t expect her to be awake yet.”

That one was the shorter of the two. He wore dark blue scrubs, and over that, a lab coat. But both of them had such similar facial features that she had trouble telling them apart.

They both had white hair and pale skin. The doctor (or so she assumed) had long hair that was pulled back and knotted, while the other had short hair that seemed to only want to stick to his face. They both appeared to be wearing eye shadow. The doctor’s was pale blue, while the other man’s was coral.

She tried to say something, but she started coughing instead.

The doctor walked closer and smiled at her in a perfect bedside manner.

“Bet you feel pretty rocky, huh?” he said.

She nodded in reply, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m Doctor Isenth,” he continued, pulling up a chair, “And this is Alrhael, the man who brought you in.”

She looked back to the other man, noting that the pale blue shirt he wore looked much better on him than the black jumpsuit. She also noticed he wore a single, long earring on his right ear.

“Thought you looked familiar,” she croaked. “Thank you.”

He grinned sheepishly.

“Please don’t thank me.” He said. “I’m probably the reason you were hurt in the first place.” His smile became more natural. “Besides, I don’t even know your name yet.”

“Grace,” she managed, coughing a little.

“Well Grace,” said Dr. Isenth, “Let me just fill you in on what happened. When the rocket went off, a piece of glass cut into your back and punctured one of your lungs. As soon as you got here, we had to take you into surgery to remove it. We successfully closed the hole in your lung, and fixed the other damage the cut had caused – just muscle and skin, don’t worry. You’re recovering very well, but I’d like to keep you in the hospital a bit longer, just to make sure no infection sets in.”

She nodded weakly, but stopped.

“Uh, where am I, anyway?”

Alrhael leaned in a bit. “It’s a little hard to explain. For now, we’ll just say that you’re in my hometown.”

“Umm…”

Dr. Isenth cleared his throat.

“I’m sure you’re tired, Grace, and I think that Alrhael has some things he needs to do.”

“True enough,” Alrhael said, rubbing his neck. He turned to go, but paused and looked over his shoulder.

“See you tomorrow?” he said, his tonality making it a question.

“Uh, sure,” She replied.

He nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

Dr. Isenth shook his head and muttered to himself as he flipped through his clipboard.

“Huh?” she asked, confused.

“Nothing,” he replied. “Ignore us natives, we’re crazy.”

“I can do that,” she said, relaxing. Within moments, she was asleep.

Alrhael did come back the next day, just as a nurse was bringing her breakfast.

“You look better,” he said, pulling up a chair.

She smiled. “I feel better,” she replied hoarsely.

He laughed a little at the dichotomy between what she said and how she sounded. Embarrassed, she tried to clear her throat, with only limited success.

“Did Dr. Isenth say how much longer you had to stay here?”

“He said only a day more,” she replied, a little more clearly.

“What are you going to do after this?” he asked, watching her.

She looked down at the plate the nurse had brought her.

“I’m not really sure. Dr. Isenth explained that this was a special UN Peacekeeping facility, so I can’t stay. My parents live in Poratia, so I can’t go home, and Lentif City is, umm…”

“They’re still fighting, but it’s looking like the UN will have to pull out last I heard,” supplied Alrhael.

“They are?” she asked, her voice squeaking.

He nodded. “Too many civilian casualties.”

“Oh,” was all she could muster. She examined the small bowl of grapes, her train of thought lost.

“I don’t suppose you would consider…”

She looked back up to find him staring blankly at the wall of instrumentation.

“What?”

He frowned in thought but didn’t look at her.

“I know you don’t really know me, or anything, but I was kinda hoping you might stay at my place-“

“Whaaat?” she asked, nearly upsetting her tray.

He glanced at her, still frowning. “Yeah. I know it’d be kinda awkward, but I figured with the camps so full, it’d be better for you. And when I get re-deployed, my mates will look after you, so…”

She was absolutely flabbergasted. She wasn’t sure if she was being given a generous offer, being lured into a spider’s web, or something totally different, but she was certainly caught totally off guard.

“C-can I get back to you on that?” she asked.

He looked at her blankly for a second, then smiled and nodded.

“I suppose that might have sounded a little creepy.” He said, obviously embarrassed.

“Umm,” she replied intelligently.

He sighed and rubbed his neck in what appeared to be a habitual gesture. He said something she didn’t understand, and stood up.

“I’ll just leave you to think about it, I guess.” He turned to leave.

“Ah, see you tomorrow?” she asked.

He paused and looked back at her.

“Yeah. See you.”

He turned and walked out.

Grace did think about Alrhael’s offer. His kindness thus far spoke for his good intentions, and the alternative, the camps, was far from appealing. Still, he was a near-complete stranger. She knew nothing of his background, save that he was in the military, and had only talked with him three times, each interchange only a handful of words.

She spent most of the day trying to draw a reasonable answer from what little she knew. She often found herself leaning this way or that, only for doubt to set in. Hours of meditation, broken only by meals and sleep, yielded no answer.

She was still trying to make up her mind when Dr. Isenth came to look at her the next morning. He started by listening to her lungs. Obediently, she bent over and inhaled while he pressed the stethoscope to her back, breathing in and out as he instructed.

“Something wrong? You seem a little distracted today,” he said as he made notes on his clipboard.

Grace bit her lip in thought, and decided to plunge ahead.

“Doctor, do you know Alrhael very well?”

He glanced up and raised an eyebrow at her.

“That is a distinctly odd question,” he said.

She nodded, blushing.

The doctor sighed and put down his clipboard.

“However, I do know Alrhael rather well, and I can well imagine any number of circumstances that could lead to that sort of question.” He shook his head with a tight-lipped grin. “He’s a little impulsive at times, but he always seems to have a well-thought explanation for what he does. Generally, he’s kind and patient, easy-going to the point of aloofness. Seems to be more aware of external problems than the rest of the Darhad, though.” He leaned back and regarded her with a quizzical expression. “So, why do you ask?”

“Ahh,” she began, twiddling her thumbs, “He asked if, when I was released, I would stay with him-“

“He what?”

While the Doctor’s response wasn’t loud, it was enough to stop her short. She watched in awe as the he launched into monologue that made up for volume with facial expressions and pointed gestures. What surprised her most though was the fact that she didn’t understand a word he was saying.

She let him continue for a few minutes before interrupting him.

“Doctor?”

He looked at her with an expression that suggested he had forgotten she was there.

“Was that Latin?”

He sighed and nodded, rubbing his forehead in exasperation.

“Grace,” he said, “Did Alrhael ever mention that the Darhad were part of the UN’s Genetics Research branch?”

She frowned in thought. “He might have said something like that back in Lentif, but…” she looked at the doctor, and her lips formed a silent ‘O’ as she realized why Alrhael, Dr. Isenth, and even the nurses she had seen all looked so similar.

“Yes, ‘oh,’” he continued. “We’re employed by the UN, housed by the UN, and each have enough contracts with our name on them to fill three filing cabinets.” He closed his eyes. “I’m not sure his invitation is even legal, and all the paperwork involved-“

“-Is sitting on your front desk.”

Alrhael had managed to sneak quietly into the examination room, and was lounging against the wall, smirking slightly.

Dr. Isenth jumped to his feet and began to speak rapidly… in Latin. Alrhael stood and patiently endured the harangue, interjecting his own comments as necessary.

As the Doctor ground to a stop, Alrhael walked over and stood next to her as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Did you decide?” he asked.

Grace glanced over at Dr. Isenth, who was talking in hushed tones with a nurse holding a large box of papers. She looked back to Alrhael, whose face was unreadable at best.

Uncalled, the photograph from the book came to her mind, and she realized that she wanted to lean more about the people who had helped her.

“I… I think I would like to go with you,” she replied.

He smiled a little and nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

She would have gotten up and followed him, but she realized she had one small problem.

“Excuse me,” she said, loudly enough to interrupt Dr. Isenth’s conversation.

She blushed and tugged at the nursing gown she was wearing.

“Can I get some real clothes first?”

For a military group, they seemed to be well provided for. Her own clothes, of course, had been cut off of her before the surgery, so they had given her a nice set of slacks and a blouse to wear. She also got a new purse, which contained a hairbrush, toohbrush and toothpaste, and a small set of unusual looking ID cards.

The last of these Alrhael had handed to her in a small wallet.

“Keep those with you at all times, even when you sleep.”

“O…kay,” she said uncertainly.

“This is a quasi-secret military establishment,” he explained as she signed the discharge papers. “You’ve got more certifications under your name right now than most people will ever even hear of.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “How did you manage that?”

He smiled one-sidedly as they exited the building. “I’ve got friends pretty high up in Genetics Research. I called in a few favors, that’s all.”

1
Author’s note: Please Read!

Now any of you who are familiar with my work (which is mighty few of you, given I’ve never published anything,) will be more than familiar with the principles I use in my writing. The rest of you, hold your applause and your tomatoes till the end.

AHEM.

There is a limited amount of writing that can be done about the real world. I mean, trying to use the present, past, or even future setting of good ol’ Earth can severely limit the amount of freedom you have while writing. You must display the world fairly accurately if you want to be successful, and that means research. Some writers are very good at this, and write successful pieces, often at a much higher level than I am capable of producing.

Not I said the Rabbit.

I don’t like research, and I don’t function well when my universe is restricted to what actually did-is-islikelyto happen. A lot of writers overcome this by writing fantasy or science fiction stories that clearly do not happen anywhere on earth, and totally dislodge themselves from the history of the world.

However, the world we live in is full of inspiration and old stories just waiting to be plager – oh, I mean re-written. And why go to all the trouble of inventing your own universe when the one we live in seems to be functioning just fine?

It is a very real conundrum. One that I have totally ignored.

This is the root of what I’m trying to say: I don’t play by the rules. I can, and will, re-arrange the world, history, and the laws of physics to suit my needs and desires. If I say France is in the middle of the Gobi desert, then France in the middle of the Gobi desert. Yes, I know I’ve just seriously mucked up the space-time continuum. I don’t really care. Also, don’t be surprised if I inject some factual bits into what appears to be an entirely fictional world.

So if you find the dichotomy between what I’m writing and reality to be too much for you, go watch reality TV for a while. There is dichotomy for you.