I'm back.

Chapter Six: His Problems with Mercenaries

June 39, 219 PGW 0900
En Route to Red Sector, Arcsernea

The shuttle and its nine occupants were unusually quiet as it soared above the clouds and reflected the bright morning sun. The rest of Fireteam Zero was here, the three other leaders of RecForce: Shawn, Raul and Charlie. Staff Sergeant Remington and two privates, also from ASOD, sat in the back of the shuttle. The pilot and the copilot silently flew the plane to their destination.

James was reading a book on the different religions on Earth (the Arcserneans were all atheists). He was immersed in one religion at the moment which they called Christianity; it was about the son of an all-powerful god, also present in at least two other religions in different forms, which came to Earth and died for all of humanity's sins. He also learned that his birth was the basis on what became Earth's official calendar circa 160 BGW.

"We're approaching the sixty-degree-north line," announced their pilot, codenamed Bright Shadow.

"Where are we headed, anyway?" asked James, closing his book.

"You're going to the northernmost reaches of Red Sector," sneered Bright Shadow. "We're going to sweep the whole sector clean of those mercenaries. Today's assignment will be to establish a new base; I'll back you guys up on that."

The clouds stealthily disappeared, and water vapor faded into snow. All that could be seen was snow and some hills dotting the landscape. A vast forest rushed underneath; James thought if they went any lower, they would start knocking off branches.

Fifteen minutes of winter wonderland later, the shuttle circled around a clearing and landed slightly north of the center. Fireteam Zero and Remington's team walked out and looked around.

"These mercs picked a good place this time," Remington told the other six. "Last time they made us go to the desert. Brown Sector is the worst, I tell you."

"Sentinel One, do we get air support out here?" asked Charlie-13.

"Hell no. I'm too scared of this sector. I'll pick you guys up when all the mercs are dead."

"Coward," muttered Remington.

"Now what do we do?" asked James.

"Well, James, as the leader you get to decide on how we take on a million mercenaries with three special forces agents, a medic, an intel officer, a berserker, and yourself," said a private, smirking."

"Shut up, private!" barked Remington.

"Hey, Alpha, can you throw your sledgehammer far enough to hit Sentinel? I want to kill him; he promised us air support and chickened out."

"So what do we get?" asked Delta-17.

"We get four shovels, a tarp, and three meals for each of us," replied the other private, "guess we have to dig a hole."

James scooped up a pile of snow in boredom, and watched as it evaporated into Arctic Gas in his hand (Arcsernea had no water, of course). The gas was the Arcsernean equivalent of helium, albeit with a higher freezing temperature.

"This ground is hard," said Alpha-02. "Unless..."

And with those words, he brought his sledgehammer down on the icy crust of soil, and exposed the softer soil beneath.

"Okay," began James. "Four of us stay and dig; I'll take two to explore. Charlie and Delta, you're with me. Shawn, listen to me. You have to stay. These mercs could come busting in at any moment. I know they didn't give you three any weapons, so I brought one for you. Use it well."

James removed the second weapon attached to his Nexus Rifle; it was about a metre and a half long, and consisted of three small connected chainguns, which rotated individually, which delivered thrice the firepower. It ran on three ammunition cells at a time, and Shawn received thirty.

"This is the MC-71 TBHWS. I call it the Berserker. A fitting name," James explained, laughing. "Now, I can barely wield this thing, but with all those steroids they pumped into you I think this is lighter than air."

Shawn bowed his head and took the chaingun.

As the four selected agents got to digging, James, Charlie and Raul headed for the woods.

About a half hour later, they came to a halt. Charlie pointed out into the distance.

"See that, guys? The mercs are there."

A small guard tower with two mercenaries inside stood about a stone's throw from their hiding rock. A stone's throw for Shawn, anyway.

"Think they're alone?" asked Raul.

"Let's find out," replied James.

James then wielded his Nexus Rifle and fired two rockets which destroyed the outpost in a dazzling red burst.

"You two run," he instructed, "because they know we're here." He pointed a finger at approaching silhouettes.

The silhouettes were covered by snowfall, as the cold barrel of an assault rifle pressed down on James's ear.

"Do you know what this is?" asked the person on the other end of the rifle.
He nodded. Indeed, he could even tell what model it was, and how long it had been in service.

"Then unless you want me to use it, I suggest you drop that funny-looking weapon you got there. And that bomb on your leg."

He dropped the rifle and the unarmed bomb and stood with his hands raised.

"Good boy. I have to tell most people to put their hands up," said the mercenary.

However, James, while getting up from his crouch, raised his hands and slightly inclined his head while rising. It was nothing too noticeable, but it allowed him to open a small container on his shoulder. The only way to see the contents was to be up close and staring directly into the hole.

With a slight gravity push with his left forearm, James intercepted a tiny detonator with his lips and returned to a normal state.

The mercenary motioned in the direction they were meant to go. They started down a narrow trail that presumably led deeper into the forest, and into their encampment. As James stole a glance back, he noticed that there was a good three metres between him and his captor. He would live, at least...

With a slight acceleration, James estimated the distance between the two. When it increased to what he presumed was three and a half metres, he moved the detonator and placed it between his teeth.
Three taps on a 4-number pad armed the bomb. Three, one, two, one.

The distance reached four metres. However, even the mercenary noticed this.

"Where are you going? Get back here!" he commanded, pointing his rifle at the agent.

Damn it! He would have to redo his plan.

The path curved to the left, and James saw his advantage. He estimated the reaction time of the
mercenary, and wondered.

An old sky tree approached them, inside the curve of the path. Perfect.

Three metres...

James pushed the fifth button on the right, the DETONATE button, and a second time for confirmation.

One and a half metres...

Four seconds. Three seconds.

One metre...

Two seconds. One second.

At a quarter of a second, he pounced at the trunk and bounded off into the forest. His fall was cut halfway by the explosion, as he was propelled through the air, through the plant life, and rolled down a hill, unconscious, burned from the explosion, and in the middle of a vast arctic forest.

* * *

Charlie was running west, into the deeper wilderness, closer to James. Once at a safe point, she would plan a route back to base.

She dropped from the trees and landed quietly on a cleared path with the dead-aim precision nobody else in RecForce could beat.

Minutes later, she saw the mercenary's blasted remains, and a blackened patch of forest. James and his fire bombs, she thought to herself, smiling. So where was James?

Looking south, she saw broken twigs and fallen snow, as though something had been thrown through here. And it was large.

Farther down, there was a broken, large tree branch. It was covered in blood, her smile fading away into a fear for the worst. The fear was realized when she saw what was lying at the bottom of the slope.

James, covered in blood, missing a large patch of skin on his cheek, was all but dead, with smoke rising all around his body. He seemed to also be choking on a small metal object. The detonator.

Charlie now knew why she had been training so closely with James now. She had the talent and intelligence. He had the resourcefulness and adaptation. Combined strengths, not to mention the other thirty-three exceptional agents, was what made RecForce nearly unstoppable.

Dislodging the detonator, she took out the radio and contacted Raul.

"James got hit by his own firebomb. I'll explain once you get everyone here. And tell Bright Shadow to come. If he chickens out again, remind him we have the power of generals and we're giving him an order.

"Gotcha, Charlie. Signing out."

With this, Charlie covered up James's body to protect him from the cold, and jumped up into a tree, waiting for the dropship.