It was a dark and stormy night. Of course it was, what other weather would it be the night a bunch of spooks from the CIA, FBI, NSA, or some other top-secret shadowy organization which most likely received funding via taxpayers dollars sued on some ‘holiday’ like National Peat Moss appreciation week showed up at your front door. That was the worst part of the whole stinking deal; they showed up at his front door! One of the few times he was actually home an allowed to spend some time relaxing, a bunch of shadowy agent-guys knocked on the door, waited for him to open, then promptly shot him full of horse tranquilizer and he was out like a light, giving them the opening they needed to haul his sorry shape into some secret government van and drive him off to somewhere else, probably someplace like Area 51, or some other top-secret base.
That’s where Captain Richard Vilick of the First Special Airborne Unit was right now. Vilick was a Tier 1 operator, top secret as was his unit. So top secret in fact, that if anyone even mentioned or exposed him as a Tier 1 operator, that very un-lucky individual would be jailed for life, no questions asked. So as it was, Vilick got very, very few days he could go home and relax, and as a result he took those precious days very seriously. And these freaks had the nerve to kidnap him in the middle of it all, well, that was just outrageous!
They could have gotten him better accommodations for sure. Maybe it wasn’t as bad now as they had finally got him off the cold metal bench in the back of the van, which judging from the soreness of his rear, must have been purposely driven over a gravel dump and one hundred miles an hour. Now he was on the cold metal seat of a plane which he was starting to think the pilot was intentionally flying through either turbulence or a herd of flying water buffalo. Either way, it was starting to get annoying, being all jostled about on the small plane which was smelling significantly of unwashed human. Which humans these where Vilick did not know, but he knew there were several. Apparently his kidnappers had decided to snatch a few more people, most quietly, some not. He had figured this out after he’d heard a series of curses, blows, yells and screams.
This was all topped off very nicely by a slumping body being dumped right next to him and yet another trip across the gravel dump followed up by several more stops, all of which consisted of unconscious bodies being thrown into the van. And now they were on a plane, partially blind. He was blind because of a professionally tied handkerchief which covered his eyes, allowing naught but a very small portion of light to gleam through the pitch black material. He could still hear and speak though, but of course he hadn’t said a word. He knew from his experience that if these spooks wanted him dead, he’d be dead by now. Obviously there was more that they wanted from him and whoever the hell was also on the plane. So he was, for now, perfectly content to sit around being jostled like a, well, a man being jostled around in a plane smelling of unwashed humans.
He could tell the other occupants were now also awake, his trained senses keenly detecting the subtle differences between unconsciousness and it’s opposite. They were all being as quiet as he, doubtlessly awaiting some form of response from their captors. He’d spent the first hour or so of this flight taking in his surroundings to the best of the abilities at his disposal. So far, he’d came to a conclusion that he was in what was obviously the cargo belly or bay of a plane, medium sized Learjet class plane. He was surrounded by approximately other six or so individuals, all male, good shape. The two next to him were highly trained in the arts of combat and were waiting and hoping to use their skills soon against either their captors, or the targets which their captors wanted dead.
Vilick had also decided that all, or at least most, of the people in the cargo bay with him were special operations, or at least some sort or form of military elite special forces. He was positive that this was all some stupid, actually most likely serious, government mission in which they decided to abduct a bunch of SpecOps soldiers and have them do some mission vital to the free nation, like shoot some communist dictator who was trying to get nukes off the black market from someone like a bunch of Russians or leftover Nazi scientists from world war two. Nah that sounded far too much like a Cruise or Pitt movie storyline.
Maybe it was the Andalites. Maybe the alien centaurs, the ‘Andies’ as the civilians termed them, had done something crazy. And while Vilick was far from a coward, he had no wish to fight Andalites. Even if they got their hypothetical quarry un-armed, he could still decapitate them with ease.
He was still thinking this collection of thoughts when there was the sound of clomping combat boots on a stainless steel deck, and rough hand grabbed his left shoulder while another ripped off the blindfold, revealing to him both the planes interior, his fellow captives, and his captors.
