Luc adjusted his goggles from night vision to thermal imaging as he entered the deathly silence of the forest. All he saw
was dark blue. Dammit, i know you're in here somewhere, he thought. He caught a flash of yellow, and whirled. A
startled wood pigeon flew up to the canopy. Fuck. Slowing his heart rate again, he continued. Measured, silent
pacing brought him to a small clearing.

Kneeling, he checked again his battered old silenced OC-14, fingering the groove he'd accidentally put in it 20 years ago
when the fighting was in the streets of the urban conurbations. Rattling the loose laser sight switch, he stood and swept
his gaze over the low- lying vegetation. Could be anywhere.

Aware that it would do nothing for his battery life, he flicked back to night vision and set it to hi-res. After
zig-zagging in the same general direction for some time, he spotted a broken stem. A couple of feet later, there was a
broken twig on the ground, and a faint shamrock imprint in the soft ground.

Gotcha. Almost did it, I'll give you that. One corner of his mouth twitched as he set off in the direction he now
knew his quarry was taking.

Moving faster, long- honed muscles flexing beneath his figure-hugging black outfit and body armour. He glided over the
ground, barely a trace left of his passing, scanning ahead for changes in direction.

A flicker of movement ahead grabbed his attention. Man or beast? he wondered. Switching back to thermal imaging, he kept
his eyes on the forest ahead as he ran.

Risking the disorientation, he turned the goggles to 4x zoom, to remove some of the haze from further ahead.
A few seconds later the blues on the screen suddenly exploded into reds and yellows- man shaped. Flicking back to 0x
zoom, he doubled his pace, ghosting towards the fleeing man.

Swinging his gun forward and simultaneously switching on the laser sight, he took a deep breath.
"Stop! You are trespassing in the lands of General O'Neill and must return for questioning! You cannot escape, the border
is secured!" Small lie, but it might work.

The man broke into a dead sprint, but when he saw the laser dot sweep up across the vegetation in front of him, he
stopped.

"Who are you? What will you do to me?"

As if you don't know fine well, Luc thought caustically. You've been special forces for years.

"You won't be harmed," he called. Yeah, right. "You'll just have to answer a few- hey!"

The man had vanished. Luc turned his goggles back to thermal, and spotted the man crawling through the undergrowth before
exploding into a sprint, dodging between trees.

With a sigh, he returned to night vision, and tracked his quarry's progress with the laser dot. With an instinct born of
years of sheer survival, he pulled the trigger and the man went headlong into the tree trunk.

He returned the rifle to his back, and pulled out an ancient Glock 19 and a taser.

7 hours later...

Luc walked quietly down the dark hallway, lit only by a couple of weak strip lights hanging from the wall. Ahead of him, a
door opened and a older man came out, dressed in old-style fatigues and aviators.

"Hey Luc, I was just looking for you. You're wanted over in the Spec Ops building. Something about an escape and evasion
talk."

Oh, shit. Completely forgot about that. "Yeah, I remember. Is it urgent?"

"Yeah, Winter said it needed doing now, so they can go out and practice before mess tonight."

"Well, I'd rather not piss Winter off, so I'll be over there soon."

"Sure thing. I'll let him know." He left, as suddenly as he had arrived.

Strange guy, Peterson. Alright, though. He's one of the oldest guys on the base, but he gets along with everyone.
Winter on the other hand, now he's just a bastard. I swear he sees it as his personal duty to make every soldiers life a
living hell, just to make sure they have what it takes. Maybe it's not even that; he just enjoys it. Probably gets off on
it, seeing them break down and cry in front of him. Fucking sadist.

These thoughts carried him across the courtyard, and up the steps into the Spec ops building.

It had once been something else, something from his past, normal life, just like everything else here; in this case, a
library. Now it was filled with bullet holes from years ago, and a couple of windows were still chipboard-covered. The
rest were salvaged perspex.

Not much around was new, since after the Collapse all the industry had shut down. The power stations had shut down fairly
quickly, killing pretty much all business, since it was almost all either industrial or technological. Of course, a
couple of the new 'warlords' (he didn't like that word, they weren't striving for war- at least, most weren't) that had
popped up had anticipated this, had built up some financial and military support in readiness.

These were the ones to get their hands on the industrial machinery, the technology, the software to run it, and their
choice of strategic base position, to fortify. They were the ones who got three rungs up the ladder that no one even knew
had been placed against the wall. He was working for the best.

"Captain Griffiths! I hope you didn't forget your lecture?" There was Winter, large as life, huge arms folded across his
barrel chest. Luc wondered again why he was in Spec ops and not in, say, demolitions.

"Of course not, Winter. When did i ever miss a lecture?"

Luc swept past him, crossed the room, and walked up the aisle between the folding chairs holding his new audience. One or
two of them only looked to be about 12 or 13. Getting them younger and younger, it seems. A reverent hush
descended as he progressed.

"Ok, let's get started. I had originally planned to tell you all about an operation that I was on a few years back, up
between Richmond and Washington. However, recent events have caused me to change my mind. As you all probably know by
now, I captured the enemy agent that has been disrupting our operations for some time now early this morning. So, instead
of telling you what you should do, I'm going to tell you what he did, and you're going to tell me what he should have
done. Comprende?"

One of the younger, bolder students piped up; "Avoid your attention, sir!"

"Silence, boy!" bellowed Winter. "I'll see you later!" The boy went white.

"No you won't, Winter," Luc replied.

"You can't tell me how to teach my own students!"

"I prefer to avoid it, but in this instance, yes, I am."

"I'm in charge here; they'll do as I say."

"Don't make me pull rank on you, Lieutenant."

Winter paused, shocked. "Yes sir, Captain." He replied stiffly, and left quickly.

One of the older students looked worried. "With all due respect, you shouldn't have done that, sir. He's going to be even
worse now."

"Hmm, that's probably true. I'll think on it, and see what can be done. He was the same to me fifteen years ago, when I
was in training. Maybe I'll have him moved to a desk job."

The students looked gobsmacked. "You were still in training 15 years ago? But you're a captain? How did you do it? Sir?"

Luc smiled thinly. "Hard work. Anyway, on with the lecture. First of all..."

2 hours later...

Luc was packing up his notes, when he heard a tap, then a knock from the ceiling. Suddenly, the air con grille burst open
in a shower of sparks, spewing forth a cloud of dust and stale air- and a body. Pulling his MK23 from his shoulder
holster, he walked over to the body sprawled on the floor. It was the agent he'd captured that morning. How the fuck did
he escape from his cell? I've tried that, it's damn near impossible. And he doesn't -or shouldn't- know the layout. He
poked the body with his foot. It twitched, slightly. Alive, then.

Not feeling particularly benevolent, he took his glass of water and splashed it in the man's face, before hoisting him to
his feet and slapping him a couple of times. The man jerked awake, spluttering, and fell to his knees, heaving. He
retched, as though about to be sick, but managed to stop it, merely spitting on the floor.

He looked up, and his eyes widened. "Luc, it's you!" he croaked "I've been looking for you for hours!"

"What!? Where is everyone? How didn't they notice your escape? And how do you know my name?"

"There's something big happening somewhere they all had to go and watch; they just tied me up and left me. I haven't had a
drink in about 6 hours"

Luc's eyes narrowed, "I suppose I was sleeping at the time. I'll be having words with someone; we keep prisoners alive and
well. And you still haven't answered my last question."

"You mean you don't recognise me?"

"No, why should I?"

The man on the floor raised his body and took hold of Luc's jacket. "Luc, it's me, Jan! Don't you recognise me? Do I look
that different?"

"Jan? From school in Roanoke?"� Luc slowly collapsed into a chair. "My god, it is."� No mistaking those oriental eyes,
incongruous in his northern European face. "How the hell did you get involved in this fuck up? You never seemed to be the
soldier type, let alone the special forces type."

"I don't know." He pressed a hand his forehead. "I was in the forge build onto our house; must have been what, 15 years or
so ago now, re-edging a knife for a friend, when about 20 of their soldiers came along the 460 in APCs, looking for
recruits. For some reason I liked the look of it, but of course I had Kari and little Henrik to think about."

"So you married her then? I know you were still going out when we graduated and I headed out to the academy."

"Yeah, we married about a year later, and moved to a nice house about 10 miles away from my parents. Remember when we used
to see them after school? But they were killed when the fighting reached the town itself."� He smiled, sadly. "Anyway,
one of the soldiers came over from the column, and said I had to join them, or they couldn't offer protection for my
house and family. Well, I knew the war was slowly spreading outwards from the cities, so I talked to Kari and she agreed
that I should work for them somehow, it might help to keep our lives relatively normal. Of course, it didn't quite work
like that, but these things never do. Have you got a drink, by the way? My throat's killing me."

"Yeah, I'll get my bottle."

Refreshed, Jan went on; "Well, I joined up, as a metal worker- basically, I did anything and everything that required a
knowledge of metal to do. I worked my way up, and eventually I was in charge of my own small team of workers. We worked
in cells, you see, since apparently it's faster that way.

"Anyway, after about 5 years, one night we were attacked by the upstate militia, and everyone was pressed into action. I
have to say, I was terrified. I'd never held a gun in my life, except for your old air rifle, and here I was in the front
lines. But I realised that if I didn't fight, I wouldn't be protected by my group, and if I died, I would never see my
wife or son again again. So the only thing I could do was fight and survive. It turned out, I did more than survive; my
command-" he laughed, "my men turned the tide of the battle with a few well executed lightning strikes on their flanks
and rear. We took out two of their captains, and destroyed four of their tanks, as well as probably about 50 of their
men. We were on fire that night... I still don't know how we did it. Most of it passed in a a blur.

"Well, when it was over, I was immediately promoted to officer and switched to Spec ops, where I spent the next 5 years in
a mix of training and operations. The next three years I spent on resource gathering and nationwide recon. When I
returned, I had to go back into training for a new job, one that was more focussed on disruption and misinformation.
Turns out that it was this one. You know most things I've done."

"Wow, that's not bad. Not for the almost- pacifistic kid I left behind in Roanoke. So what's happening with your wife and
son now?"

Jan's eyes darkened, and his fist balled involuntarily. "They were killed, and the house torched. Apparently by your side,
that's why they gave me this job." He smirked, bitterly. "Apparently.

"I've only continued the job because I had no hard evidence."

"Well I can tell you now that any civilian strikes have had to go through me for the last six and a half years, and in
that time I've only authorised three. Only one of those was against your group, and it was a good 40 miles from Roanoke.
Right up the interstate near Lexington. So we had nothing to do with it."

"That's the confirmation I needed. I knew it. That bastard! When I get out of here I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch. No,
I'm going to crucify him. On his office window."

"I'd gladly do it myself. But if you're going to do it, you have to calm down, and get out of here first."

"True. It's just hard, knowing you've been betrayed by someone you counted a friend. Will you help me?"

"I'll try. You have to get to the store room, and find a special forces jacket. No one bothers the Spec ops guys. Not when
they know we're trained to kill quickly and silently, and not averse to dishing out a bit of pain. Out of those double
doors, turn left, go to the far end of the corridor, and enter the door on your right. Go to the other side of the room
and open the door nearest the window. That's the clothing store room.

"Get one of the jackets that has this logo on, and climb up into the loft. Head east, and there'll be a trapdoor in the
roof. You're out of the building then, and most people you come across should ignore you. Grab a bike from the shed on
the way out of the courtyard. The guards on the gate will almost certainly let you go. They're generally stopping people
going in. I've said about that before, but apparently they don't get paid enough. bullshit I say, but what can you do?

"Once you're out, you can make your way back. They don't know that you're going to kill General Mackeson, so you should be
able to get weapons from your base."

"Thanks Luc. I knew I could count on you to be a true friend."

There was an awkward pause, as ever, of emotion between estranged friends. Luc broke the silence.

"Now go! Before they come back from whatever it is they're doing!"

Jan grinned. "Yes sir!" He left the room at a run.

Luc slid into a chair with a sigh. Had he done the right thing? He'd helped his childhood friend, but what of his new
friends? What of the dozens of his students Jan had killed or injured in his duties? That's war, I suppose. Not a good
place to find a friend as your enemy. They were still friends though, and he allowed a small smile at that.

3 hours later...

Jan rode up to the gates, and was stopped by a pair of guards sporting battered old M-16s.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"I am Jan Cheng, back from a mission for General Mackeson."

"Prove it."

Jan mentally rolled his eyes. Almost as bad as drill sergeants, gate guards.

"Obviously, having been on operations, I don't have any of my ID with me. If you get Colonel Richards or Lieutenant
Bradford, they will be happy to allay any of your concerns."

He casually threw out the names of two of the most feared men in camp, as though he knew them personally. It did the
trick.

"All right, you can come in. But we're watching you."

Jan laughed. "All right then."

He knocked on the door. General Mackeson, the shiny brass plate read.

"Enter!"

There was the general, as well as two of his colonels- including Richards, Jan noted with amusement- and the captains of
the Spec ops and mechanised infantry divisions.

He saluted.

"Jan Cheng, reporting back from operation"

"At ease, lad. How long have you been away? Two years? What have you achieved in that time? I heard rumours you were
captured, but my eyes tell me otherwise."

Jan reeled off a list of impressive figures.

"I was captured, but an old friend helped me escape after just a few hours."

"Really?" the general chuckled. "I doubt he'll be feeling so happy about it in a week. Well, you have the information,
here are the assault commanders, and there is the map. Appraise us, if you will."