Goldlusting Oil Sheikhs of Arabia

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This article (Goldlusting Oil Sheikhs of Arabia), is fan fiction and isn't automatically canon. On the other hand, no one said it isn't.
Unlike the Not Canon banner, this page is not intended to be seen as lore from Team Echoes, and is instead something from the mind of the author. It is, however, supposed to be read and enjoyed. Have fun! You should also browse the fan fiction category for more content. Maybe these will inspire you to write your own projects.

## THE ARABIAN WINDS BRING ADVENTURE FOR AMY AND LAURA IN THE PERSIAN GULF!

I ducked and dodged Laura's jabs, trying to send a kick at her legs to break her stance. Laura jumped back and grabbed my leg, tossing me around on the mats and into a roll. I tried to jump up, but before I could Laura was already over me with an elbow on my neck.

"Okay, okay, pinned!" I shouted, slamming my hand on the mat.

"Told you, you're telegraphing." Lifting me up, Laura took the same stance I did. Then she suddenly kicked out at where my legs should've been. "I shouldn't see you leaning back until you actually make the kick, and you let your eyes linger too long on my leg."

"Got it," I said, rolling my neck. "I'm gonna check the mail, need anything?"

"Some water," Laura said, pushing some hair off her forehead.

I nodded, watching as Laura rolled her shoulders before I walked around the corner. One of the radios in the penthouse was still on, playing the latest hit from whatever garage band was popular this week, but it didn't sound so bad with the guitar. It sounded like Dick Dale, just long trains of notes and chords all over the place but coordinated.

Walking out the front door, went for the elevator down the hall. The golden faceted arch above it reflected the light from the lamp attached above it, and pressing the button I tapped my foot patiently waiting for the elevator. The needle on the arch moved slowly across the floors, and I silently started wishing we'd pressured the landlord harder for an express elevator to the upper floors.

With a ding the gold and silver doors slid open, and I walked inside the wood-paneled elevator. Tapping the button for the ground floor, I patiently waited for the fifteen-minute ride down to the lobby.

Walking into the lobby, I saw one or two people milling around at the front desk, chatting as the automaton behind the desk smiled it's golden smile and watched the world detached from it. But then it isn't like it could go anywhere, it was just a green-painted bellhop without any legs and an ape's brain inside it. Useless for everything else but looking good for the residents who thought that the civilian automata were worth anything other than looking good. It's why the building manager still kept one or two actual staff on-hand.

Walking over to the mail boxes, I checked inside to see if the mail had arrived yet. There was a decent stack of mail, and pulling it out I noticed that along with mine and Laura's stipend from the Technate, information on Future Industrial's quarterly performance, and a letter from Lynn undoubtedly bitching about us trying to get aid to the Phoenix Front, there was a private letter, postmarked from Saudi Arabia. Raising my eyebrows, I walked back to the elevator checking the rest of the mail again.

After another ride up the floors, I walked back to the apartment staring at the letter from Saudi Arabia and seeing no return address. Walking back inside, I quickly grabbed a glass of water for Laura and left the majority of mail on the counter.

I walked inside to see Laura working on the heavy bag, punching and slamming into it. I waited until she decided to finish, watching quietly as she kept demolishing the bag. Fist, fist, elbow, fist, knee, fist, elbow, fist. There was definitely some of Tenzin's kung fu in there, Laura's movements flowing and shifting between each strike. But when she did make a hit, it was harsh and fast, evidence of how she made herself some money back in LA. She finished with a strike with her elbow on what would be neck-height, right in the voice box. Taking a few breaths, Laura closed her eyes and shook herself out. Smiling, I walked over and handed her the water. "Lynne wrote us back."

"I can't wait to see that letter," Laura said sarcastically, taking down half the glass in one go. "Is that it?"

"No, this one's apparently from Saudi Arabia," I said, opening it. "Any ideas?"

"Isn't F.I. working on a new engine type for the Technate's armored divisions?" Laura asked. "Maybe they want you to sell them what the company has?"

"No go there, those engines are designed for the Technate's armored vehicles." I quickly unfolded the letter and read, "To Ms. Smith, my name is Musad Al-Saud, relative of the royal family of the nation of Saudi Arabi. I write to you both for a business proposition regarding your history. I feel there is no one else in the world more capable of handling the task I wish you both to take. If you are both interested, I ask that you please call the number in this letter to alert my valet of your willingness to accept or decline. I patiently await your reply, and wish to see you both soon. Sincerely, Musad Al-Saud."

"Well that's an interesting invitation," Laura said. "What do you think?"

"The Al-Saud are the ruling family of Saudi Arabia, if they're going to us for a job it's gotta be something they can't trust their own people with." I couldn't help but smile. "And we can probably charge whatever we want for it."

"I have been looking at a scope for the Thompson," Laura said with a grin. "But they'd better give us a car with air conditioning for whatever they need."

"Well of course," I said, folding the letter back up. "Okay, I'll make the call."

"And then we're gonna finish up in here," Laura said. "And don't think I won't notice you telegraphing again."

I cringed at the thought of getting my butt handed to me again, and it didn't help when Laura said, "Don't bother stalling with the call either, or we'll do some work with the mitts on."

*Continued on Page 14*

#### HELP THE POOR!

*No one should be forced to live in poverty, yet every day the favelas face such crushing poverty that thousands can see no end to the misery. The Technate says no more!*

*For the next two years, we are asking volunteers to accompany Civil Defense recruiters into the favelas to assist in enlistment of those within the favelas willing to become part of the future!*

*Volunteers will be allowed to also enlist as well at these events. Know that the Technate depends on us all to do our part for the sake of our futures. Our civil defense is everyone's responsibility, and in helping the poorest of our nation gain a new purpose volunteers may find their own!*

*Utopia can be attained, but everyone must be willing to gain it! Don't wait, do what you can to help today!*

### Page 16

Riyadh isn't much of a city when you first get to it. In fact, it's little different from the developments in Las Vegas or in Utah, boxy buildings meant to act as hotels and to give foreign visitors the impression that the region was developing well with oil money. But as you go into the city, you see the stone and dirt houses doubling as storefronts, the massive traffic snarls of antique and modern cars mixed with a few horses. That didn't matter to us though, as we rolled through the streets in a massive black Hudson Hornet.

Laura and I said nothing as we sped through the city. Our drive had only held out a sign with our names, and when we tried to talk with him he said nothing. Of course, when you're as wide a man as most TV sets, you probably don't need to do much talking anyway.

Laura and I watched as we passed through the city, saying nothing as we watched women in full black burqas guiding their children down the streets past men in Western business suits haggling with men in red keffiyehs over stands filled with trinkets and curios. An obvious police presence also made itself felt, as men in berets and tan uniforms stalked the stalls and streets with SMGs and rifles. They patrolled in small groups, but you could spot them every few yards. Of course we all knew what they were trying to prevent, but that detonator can be pressed a lot faster than more men car aim and fire.

In silence we kept driving through the city, until eventually we turned onto a highway and sped off away from the dust of the barely paved roads. The silence in the car was deafening, and our driver's stone-faced expression in the rear-view mirror didn't help make us feel any more welcome.

Laura leaned over to me and whispered, "You starting to think that maybe we should have talked to the man himself?"

"The valet just kept changing subjects whenever I tried," I whispered back, smiling towards the driver as he glanced back at us. "He just said the driver would take us to the prince's home."

"That scope had better be worth it," Laura whispered as she sat back in her seat.

Another hour of driving in silence later, and in the distance across the barren sands we saw a house coming into view on our right. It rose out of the desert like a mirage, white enough to almost reflect the sun. A wall ran along what I assumed was the property's boundaries, with a massive main gate and a small guard shack out front. The driver turned off the highway, and as we got closer I could make out guards in the shack or patrolling just above the walls.

The driver pulled up to the shack, Laura and I both trying to stay as still as possible. Rolling down his window, the driver spoke with the guard in Arabic. The guard nodded, and pressed a button in the shack that activated the motors on the gates. Two more guards with rifle walked into view flanking the car inside the gate, and as we drove by I saw that the guard had armor plating inside the shack and an ARM-14 ready to go.

The house, really more of a mansion, was lavishly spread across the estate. Small plants and shrubs grew around the front of the house, colorful flowers blooming in the sweltering desert sun. The guards walked around the car, one of them rolling a mirror under the chassis as the other checked the back bumper. Both nodded and the driver pressed on towards the house. As we got closer I saw that the massive columns out front had a camera attached, and there were two more guards walking the top of the house. All of them were armed with ARM-14s or M1 Garands, and one was even hefting a Bren around.

The driver pulled up to the front of the house, and getting out he walked to the back of the the car and opened the trunk. Not knowing what else to do, Laura and I meekly slipped out and did our best to stay in the shade as the heat made itself known again. Without even making a grunt, the driver hefted our luggage in his hands and carried them up the stairs to the massive front doors. Two more guards stood at the front, glaring at us and with their fingers on their safeties.

"Well, it was a good run," Laura said with a sigh. "Any regrets?"

The doors opened, and out walked a man with a wide smile on his face. He wore a black bisht over his snow white thwab, and on his head was a white keffiyeh with a black agal wrapped around it. The man was just becoming middle aged, his thick black beard covering his entire jaw and his smile as wide as his gate. He said something in Arabic, and his guards instantly relaxed, easing off on their weapons and softening their scowls. "Ms. Smith, Ms. North. Welcome to my home. I am Musad Al-Saud, and it is my honor to be your host. What is mine is yours as long as you are here."

Laura and I smiled. "Thank you for this kindness," I said, holding my hand out. "It's a pleasure to meet you in person sir, I'm Amy Smith."

"Laura North," Laura said, shaking our host's hand. "This is some nice place you have here."

"It's actually quite humble compared to the rest of my family," Musad said, laughing a little. "But you must both be tired after your flight. Come, we must get you settled in. I have other guests here, and you must meet my children. My sons are great fans of you exploits."

"We always like to meet fans," Laura said, going to grab her suitcase. The driver didn't let her, instead picking them both up and trudging off into the house behind his master. Shrugging to each other, we followed Musad inside to a marble lined foyer. Both walls were decorated with massive paintings, and the chairs looked like they were brought right out of pre-revolution Versailles. There was even a small marble fountain in the center of it all. A small line of servants waited inside the house, heads bowed out of respect for Musad.

"Butrus will take your things to your room," Musad said, his driver already moving up the stairs. "Tell me, have either one of you ever been to my homeland?"

"No, we've never really had the time," Laura said. "I'm amazed that you say this is a small house too, I could've never imagined a place like this growing up."

Musad chuckled. "I have thousands of cousins and dozens of brothers, many of them quite wealthy. Compared to their palaces, my home is a hovel. Yet I am not one to be envious. I have a good life, and a good family. What more can a man wish for in this world?"

"Not many people can find that level of satisfaction," I said. "That's even more impressive to me."

"Then I am honored to have earned your admiration," Musad said, nodding. Hearing footsteps, Musad turned to see a woman walking up behind him in a light black dress with gold patterns across the front, her hair in a hijab. "Ah, may I introduce you both to my wife, Najwa. My dear, this is Amy Smith and Laura North."

"Welcome to our home," she said, nodding to us. She was a few years younger than her husband, but see kept herself composed. If I had to guess, she kept herself so at all times due to her husband's lineage. "I hope you both feel at ease in our home. Dear, I came to tell you that the other guests are in their rooms now."

Laura and I looked at each other but said nothing about the fact there were other guests. "Thank you dear, please tell them that we will talk after dinner." Kissing his wife's forehead, Musad turned back to us. "Dinner will be in an hour, but if you need more time to prepare I will make sure to let the cook know."

"An hour is more than enough time," I said politely. "Forgive us though, we didn't bring any formal wear. We typically don't need it."

"It is acceptable," Musad said. "I promise that after dinner we shall discuss everything we need."

"See you then." Bowing a little, Laura and I followed a staff member who motioned to us to follow him. Waiting until we were in our room (Which was frankly as big as most presidential suites), we quickly thanked the butler and quickly checked our luggage on the bed. It never hurts to make sure after all. "Okay, nothing's missing with mine," I said. "You?"

"All here," Laura said. "Well Musad seems like a decent enough guy. Kinda wishing he'd mentioned that there were gonna be other explorers involved though."

"I don't think it's anyone we know though," I said. "I didn't hear anything through the grapevine about anyone going to Riyadh."

"Well we'll find out at dinner I guess," Laura said, shutting her suitcase again. "What now?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm taking a shower." Looking through the drawers in the room, I found a fresh towel and made my way to the bathroom.

"I'll make sure the beds aren't booby trapped then," Laura said as I took off my jacket and she kicked off her boots. Laying down, she nearly disappeared into the comforter.

Dressing as best we could for dinner, we walked down the stairs as the sun started to set. Looking out the windows, I couldn't help but stare at the orange sky outside, the sands turning an amazing shade of pink in the fading light. If you can, you really need to see it for yourself before it's too late for you to ever travel again.

A house staff member was waiting at the foot of the stairs, and with a silent motion led us through the echoing halls to the dining room. Along the way, he motioned to a small sink. Nodding, Laura and I quickly washing our hands before the man led us into the main dining room. The room was massive, the ceiling an incredible mosaic or twisting red patterns across blue tiles that went on for infinity. I saw a group of young boys surrounding Musad, chatting excitedly as their father tried to pay attention to each one in turn. Servants waited to the back of the room by the doors to the kitchen, as Najwa checked the table. Then one of the boys saw us, and quickly all attention was focused on Laura and I. Swarmed by so many little faces, it was hard to try and piece together anything they were saying. Of course, it didn't help that they only spoke Arabic. With a firm word from their father, the boys quickly went to the table, still anxiously staring at us in awe. Musad chuckled as he walked over to greet us. "As you can see, they can't wait to meet their idols."

"It's alright, really," I said, Laura flashing a wide smile at the boys. "You'll have to translate though, I'm afraid I don't speak Arabic."

"Then no wonder we were called in." The voice behind us was deep like a lake, and turning I saw what had to be the other guests Musad had been talking about. There were six of them, all dressed in business clothes. One of them was rotund, with a fiery patch of red hair and a short goatee. The tallest one of them had gray hair, but he didn't look much older than thirty with a placid expression on his face. There was a short man with military birth-control glasses and jet black hair, standing shorter than the rest. There was a woman with long blonde hair falling down to her waist, but here sharp brown eyes were already looking towards all the entrances and exits. A blonde man waited to get into the dining room, and it wasn't hard to smell the strong scent of freshly-smoked tobacco from him. The man who had done the talking was clearly the leader, standing at the head of the six with a smirk on his face under his raven hair.

"Ah, Ms. Smith, Ms. North, these are my other guests," Musad said, quickly moving between us. "This is Ronald Mustang, he and his team are also to be hired for the task I expressed to you."

"Amy Smith and Laura North," Mustang said, nodding to us. "Heard a lot about you two. Hopefully it's not all Technate talk."

"Ah, the dinner is ready," Musad said, turning our attention to the staff walking inside the kitchen before Laura could go off. "Come, let us all sit. Ms. North, please, sit to my left."

I nodded, and quickly everyone sat around the massive mahogany table. The boys dutifully sat quietly at their seats, Najwa sitting to her husband's right. With everyone seated Musad stood and raised his arms, and we bowed our heads out of respect. "*Allahumma barik lana fima razaqtana waqina athaban-nar,*" he said, reciting what I know now is the Islamic blessing before meals along with his sons and wife. I noticed that Mustang and his team recited the prayer as well. "*B-ismi-llāh-ir-raḥmān-ir-raḥīm.*"

Nodding, we all looked up as the food was brought out and dinner began in earnest. The meal was extravagant, a spare-no-expense affair. If you want to eat like a king, make sure you're friend with a sheikh. All through dinner the boys kept bombarding us with questions, about everything from what it's like to ride a giant ant to how many KGB agents Laura had fought hand-to-hand. Musad told us stories about his boyhood adventures, and talked of how he and his wife met and married. Still, none of Mustang's men spoke or did much of anything through the meal, they just sat, ate, and listened.

Finally, the food was cleared away, and the family said quietly, "*Alhamdulillah.*" Rising from the table, Musad said, "Now, I ask my guests join me in my study. We have much to discuss for the task I have for you all."

"Come children, let's go into the television room," Najwa said, the boys walked dejectedly away from the dining room with longing glances at us. Waving goodbye, Laura and I followed Musad and the others towards the other end of the house, towards a small spiral staircase winding up to the second floor. The metal stairs clanged softly under our shoes, until we finally reached a small, modest door on a landing above the dining room. Taking out a key, Musad opened the door to a library, a small window set high above the room. The lights were soft but kept the room bright enough to see the thick Persian carpet spread out beneath us, blue and white patterns spreading out under the wooden bookcases. Walking up to one of them, I found that the books were real and not just decoration. Everything from first editions of works like the *The Three Musketeers* and *Dracula* to legal texts and atlases.

"Please, sit," Musad said, motioning to some chairs and a sofa before his desk. Laura and I took the sofa, as Mustangs team either sat or stood behind their leader. "I personally do not smoke or drink, but if any of you wish to have a cigar or liquor I'm able to oblige."

"That's very generous of you," Mustang said with a nod. "I'd personally like a brandy."

"A Cuban if you have one," the blonde man said.

"None for us thanks," Laura said, waving off Musad's offer.

Musad nodded, opening a drawer in his desk and bringing out two cigars, a cigar cutter, and a glass. Handing them over to Mustang and the blonde man, Musad waited for Mustang to sit before sitting himself. The blonde man cut the cigar and quickly lit up. The room quickly filled with the aroma of thick tobacco, but it was something I'd had to get used to so it was easy to ignore.

"Tell me, do you all like stories?" Musad asked. "My family has one, passed down through the years before we even took the name of Saud. A tale of the silk road, before the Crusades or the rise of Europe." We listened intently, all eyes locked on Saud. Even the breathing in the room felt controlled, like we all needed to listen to every detail. "Many centuries past, a caravan snaked through the road bearing great riches. Silks from China and exotic spices from the Indies, exotic animals for royal menageries. A group snaking back for miles. Yet the most important treasure carried with them was a horde of gold and silver, a literal kings ransom from the amir of the Samanid Empire. He wished to purchase from the Byzantine Emperor some of his personal guard. Viking warriors who acted as the emperor's personal warriors."

"The varangians," Mustang's gray-haired man said. "Originally river pirates and raiders who became paid retainers of the monarchy after a series of conflicts between their kingdoms and the Byzantines."

Musad nodded. "You are well read, Mister..."

"Falman, sir," he said. "However, there are no records indicating that the Byzantines ever considered selling the services of the varangians to any other power."

"The trade hinged upon the gold arriving in Byzantium," Musad replied. "The story came to my family as the caravan stopped at an oasis we controlled. Unfortunately, it soon moved on and was lost. Whether by bandit raid or the sands consuming them, we will not know."

"And I presume that you want this treasure found?" Mustang said.

Musad gave a Cheshire grin, toothy and wide. "A month ago, a survey team found what appeared to be the remains of a lost caravan outpost on the Saudi-Iraq border. Of course, the Coalition moving in to secure such an archaeological site would be seen as an act of aggression."

"But a group of foreigners is probably nothing to worry about," I said. "Is there a specific goal you want accomplished?"

"I want you to bring back the gold, as much as possible. Even in times as this, gold is still valuable enough to warrant being found." Musad opened another drawer and took out two checks. "Your first payments on accepting this task, with the rest upon completion of the mission. I will supply all necessary equipment and expenses, and even allow you to keep pieces of the treasure if you so wish." We all got up to look at the numbers on the checks, and Laura and mine's eyes went wide at the numbers. Even for someone who held majority shares in their own company, there were a lot of zeroes on that slip of paper. Mustangs team suddenly got wide excited smiles as well, though Mustang and the blonde woman kept their faces blank. Musad took out a pen and said, "I trust these will be enough?"

Laura and I nodded a few times, Mustang only one. "Excellent," Musad said. "I'll make sure to buy whatever equipment you recommend is necessary. We shall discuss this more tomorrow. For now, I wish you all good night."

Mustang nodded and quickly lead his team out of the office. Laura and I just followed, trying to mentally shake ourselves. If this was a modest house and that was a simple check, then whatever business Musad was in had to be booming.

"If it weren't for the heat I'd have come here instead of LA," Laura said as she brushed her teeth. "I could've made my money with interest here."

"It is a lot," I said, settling into the thick feathery blankets and silky sheets. "Almost too much to believe. He has to be making a play for something."

"Gold's gold," Laura said. "The elders used to tell us all stories about the gold rush and how crazy the prospectors got over it. None of us ever really understood the point until we got older." Rinsing, Laura turned off the lights in the bathroom and got into bed, letting out a content sigh. "Wish all our jobs could be as nice as this one."

Snuggling up close, I put my head on her shoulder and kissed her cheek. "You're worth the bad ones."

We slept for a few hours before I woke up to Laura staring at the ceiling with her eyes wide open. I said nothing, the look on her face told me something was wrong. Straining my ears, I tried desperately to listen for what the noise might have been. Laura just kept breathing like she was asleep, and even trying to do the same my eyes tried desperately to adjust to the darkness. Finally I heard it, the soft footsteps moving across the floor. It wasn't someone wearing boots or shoes, but they weren't in bare feet either. They were wearing a slipper to hide their movements. Laura gently gripped my arm, and I braced myself as the person in the room got closer to the bed. By now I saw a shadowy outline moving our way, indistinct in the dark room. I suddenly wished we hadn't drawn the curtains.

Laura didn't move, didn't speak until the man was standing over her. He started whispering something, and pulled something from behind his back and raised it over his head.

As he brought it down, Laura lifted the sheets with her arms and legs, catching the knife as it came down. I jumped out of bed and ran for the lights as Laura started trying to wrap the man's arms with the bedding. I ran for the door and started shouting, "Guards, guards!" Maybe a little cliche, but if I wanted to get attention it was going to work.

Laura managed to wrap enough blanket around the man's hand that the knife was covered up, but she realized that now he had something to use like a glove. As my eyes adjusted I realized it wasn't just anyone trying to kill us, it was Musad's driver. The man swung wildly at Laura, trying to connect with either arm. Laura parried and deflected each hit, but every time she tried to connect the driver managed to jump back or make some fancy footwork away from her. I ran over to help, trying to get a shot in at his back or neck, but he wove through our attacks like water.

The guards started to shout as they ran to our room, and the driver stood still. He glared at us, and we glared right back at him. He was cornered, and no matter what he would try he couldn't do anything without being caught. Closing his eyes, he took a breath and whispered, "*Allahu Akbar.*" He used his wrapped right arm to smash the glass windows behind us, and just as we realized what was happening he threw himself out the window. The blankets slipped away from us before we could grab them, and two seconds later we heard a sicking thud and a loud cracking noise over the night breeze.

As the guards outside started to shout, two man ran in with their weapons ready looking for the assailant. We both pointed to the window, and the men ran over and pushed the curtains out of the way to see what Laura and I already knew. They looked at each other and us, their faces a mix of confusion and concern.

"What has happened?" Musad said, running into the room with Mustang behind him. The sheikh looked confused and concerned, but Mustang just stood in the doorway with a dispassionate expression. "Who attacked you?"

"Your driver," Laura said, getting her breathing back under control. "How long have you known him?"

"He's been my driver for twenty-odd years," Musad whispered. "I've known him since I was a young man out of college, since I started my company."

"Then I think it's safe to say our timetable has moved up," Mustang finally said. "We'll need our gear and equipment ASAP, we'll all need our equipment ready in two days, we'll leave in the early morning."

"Of course," Musad said, trying to keep his focus away from what just happened. "Anything you need, you will have it."

"We'll have our list ready by the time your people leave to get it," I said, looking towards the shattered window and billowing curtains. "I don't think we'll be getting much sleep tonight anyway."

Musad was as good as his word and better, and Laura and I had everything we'd need for the journey ahead. Ammunition, rations, mess kits, sunblock, everything a girl needs going into a hostile desert. Laura and I sat in the plaza out back, loading magazines and going over our gear as the morning sun started to heat things up. Mustang and his team were doing the same, only they were thinking bigger. They had requested and gotten two Leopard LAVs modified for the deserts.

"They're definitely military," Laura said. "They're either pathfinders or PK Recon, they don't carry themselves like mercs."

"You have a point," I said. "Well, there's only one way to find out." Finishing up on my magazine, I walked over casually. "Hey, you guys need any help?"

The blonde man was working atop the Leopard on the Ma Deuce, smoke wafting up from where he worked. "Yeah, can you have me that ammo can?"

Nodding, I hefted the ammo can up onto the roof. The man nodded, taking the ammo and placing it next to the gun. Pulling the belt out, he opened up the M2 and lined the ammo up with the feeding system. Slamming the top down, he pulled the handle a few times to work the system. Nodding, he opened the top and pulled the belt back out of the gun and took the ammo can out from the mounting, placing it inside the Leopard. "So, Amy Smith. Gotta say, I thought you'd be shorter."

Well, at least it was a break from being thought of as blonde. "Well the boots add an inch or two, Mr..."

"Havoc," he said, sliding into the Leopard and opening the door towards me with his hand out. "John Havoc, nice to meet you."

"Likewise," I said, shaking. "So, have you all been working together a long time?"

"Ever since '64," Havoc said, before pointing to the short black-haired man with the thick glasses who was busy working on a radio. "Well, except for Fuery, he joined up in '67 when we were still in action."

"Pathfinders?" I asked.

"No ma'am, PK Recon," Havoc said with a grin. "After the war the captain decided to strike out as a merc, but since he didn't want to go with the Legion he brought us along."

"You telling old stories again?" the red-headed man said. He was lugging some Jerry cans towards us, painted blue to mark them as water. "If you're gonna flirt, at least do it with someone who isn't already taken."

"I wasn't flirting," Havoc growled before clearing his throat. "The big ox there is Hans Brede, our resident egg-head."

"That's three egg-heads to your jarhead," Brede said, smiling as he turned to me. "Don't let him fool you, he does have a soft side if you can see past the tough-guy act."

"I'll show you an act," Havoc growled. "Where's the maps?"

"Right here," the blonde woman said. Her hair was no longer down to her waist, now it was tied high and tight to her scalp. Kneeling down between us, she spread the map in her hand across the stones of the back plaza and let us get a closer look as I motioned for Laura to come over. "We'll be heading west on Route 65 towards Al Majmaah, then Route 50 north to Hafar Al Batin. Al-Saud said that the location of the ruins are just north of Ar Ruqi, once we reach the location we're to radio and alert him that we've arrived. Then we secure the gold and return before the Desert Corps decides to ask around. All in all, six hours up, two hours there, six hours back."

"We're not worried about the GLA?" Laura asked.

"Six Recon and two explorers?" Havoc laughed. "It's not even fair."

"I'm more worried about the RDF," Brede said, tapping at an empty segment of the map just south of Hafar Al Batin. "G4 was setting up a massive base here before we were moved to the Suez, it'll be the Coalition's now."

"I thought King Faisal made sure his soldiers were all loyal now," I said. "Did something change?"

"Yeah, the Coalition's people found out how good bribery works for them," Brede said. "GLA's got some decent money behind it, so it isn't unheard of lately for them to pay off Coalition troops to look the other way."

"Wonderful," Laura groaned. "So what's our plan then?"

"We keep as low a profile as possible," the woman said, turning towards us. "Lisa Hawks, pleasure."

"Nice to meet you," I said. "So I ordered us about two days worth of three meals for the both of us, do you think that will be enough?"

"I'd recommend rationing it to two a day just in case," Hawks said. "We have food pills to spare though, so between the eight of us there shouldn't be any concern."

"Then we're all set right?" Laura said cheerfully.

"Not even close," Hawks said sternly. "We haven't touched on the fact that someone tried to kill the both of you last night, and one of Al-Saud's loyal retainers at that."

"Do you realize how often we wake up to someone with a knife over our heads?" Laura said, sounding bored. "Seriously, I was starting to wonder why it wasn't happening anymore before last night."

"What's more important is the motive," Hawks said. "Killing you both takes out the two easier targets, he was probably going to come after us next." Hawks smiled a little. "Thanks for taking care of him."

"He just needed to have a break," I said with a grin. "So who was he then?"

"Probably GLA," Havoc said. "Bastards are stupid enough to try anything to kill people, he probably wanted to kill you both for being foreigners."

"That's pretty simple logic," I said.

"They're pretty simple morons," Havoc answered. "C'mon, let's finish up with the work. After we're done we'll double-check everything so it's ready to go tomorrow morning."

"Thanks," Laura said smiling. "Is there anything else we'll need to make sure about?"

"Sunblock," Fuery said, suddenly holding a half-dozen bottles in his hands. "Make sure you have it."

We were up before morning the day we were leaving, but still several of Musad's sons were up to groggily wish us goodbye. Smiling at them, Laura and I both decided to leave them with some candies out of our rations before loading our gear into the back of our Leopard. Every strap was checked to ensure it was taught, every loose object accounted for. Magazines and belts were loaded as Musad stood waiting.

"We're all set," Mustang said. "We'll try to contact you at every stop we make, we should be back later tonight."

"*Inshallah,*" Musad said. "What matters is that you remain alive. Good luck to you all."

"Tell the kids we'll make sure to get plenty of scenes for the next adventure," Laura shouted. Revving the engine, I let myself take a second to hear the engines rumble at my command. The Leopard was bog-standard I.I. make, but that V-12 roaring in the morning calm never fails to make a person feel like they're alive.

We rolled out, rounding the palace to the highway. Riyadh in the day is crazy, but in the morning hours before dawn the city is practically dead. A few beggars moving before the cops could find and arrest them for vagrancy, or vendors who were willing to sacrifice sleep to get the best spots for the day. Quickly we rode through the city, and as the sun started to rise the tallest buildings were already starting to shrink in my mirrors.

"Off and rolling," Brede said, hefting his Bren gun in his hands with a pan magazine. He and Laura sat in the back, Laura ready to jump up on the Browning without hesitation. Falman was riding shotgun, a single-barreled Thompson in his lap and map in hand. You know you've been living in the Technate for too long when you forget that the Thompson wasn't originally built with two barrels. "Either one of you ever been in the desert before?"

"Never," Laura said, leaning back in her seat as we drove past the dunes west of Riyadh. "It just looks like it goes on forever, like an ocean of sand."

"Saudi Arabia has the largest single sand desert of any nation in the world," Falman said, taking off the modified patrol caps that Musad had bought for us all. They had been modified for wear in the desert, thick cloth sewn onto the back to keep our necks safe from the sun. "Local stories claim that there are two lost cities that were lost due to desertification in the region." Laura and I looked at each other, our eyes lighting up at the mention of "lost city".

Fuery's voice suddenly crackled over the radio. "*Alright, radio check, HiSaan 1 to HiSaan 2, come in HiSaan 2.*"

Falman grabbed the mic. "This is HiSaan 2, we read you. Radios seem to be working 5-by, good job Fuery."

"*Thanks," Fuery said, sounding proud of himself like a kid who just got a compliment from his parents. "*Captain wants to run a quick weapons check on the guns, wait about fifteen minutes then fire a short burst."

"Roger, over." Falman looked back to Laura. "Get all that?"

"I love my job sometimes," Laura said, sliding on a pair of gloves. Sliding her cap on, Laura slid on a pair of goggles as well and stood up behind the gun. Behind the lead Leopard, I saw one of them get up and chamber their belt, but wearing the same gear as Laura I couldn't tell who it was behind the gun. Then I noticed the cigarette and realized it was Havoc.

"*Okay, we're far enough away,*" Fuery radioed. "*Fire a short burst.*"

An M2 is a *loud* gun, even if you have a V-12 under the hood you'll still feel it inside your ears. Laura and Havoc fired off a three second burst, and as Laura slipped back inside I could hear her laughing. "Oh man, I *love* John Browning. Tell them it's working fine on our end."

Falman nodded and radioed, "HiSaan 1, we're set to go here."

"*Roger that,*" Fuery answered. "*Everyone strap in, we're on the way.*"

*Continued on Page 24*

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### Page 24

As we pulled into the edges of Al Majmaah, I saw a few Coalition positions lining the area. Coalition troops stood idle by the large, almost comical red and white wooden gate at the front of the town. One of the Coalition soldiers motioned for us to stop at the gate, his vest nearly filled to overflowing with magazines, the Islamic crescent in green over his chest. What I noticed meanwhile were the cameras everywhere around the checkpoint outside the city, pointing in every direction leading in and out of the city. I noticed that Falman slowly moved his hands up above the radio as Brede put his atop the back of my seat. Laura quickly took the hint and put her hands above the passenger's seat, as I kept my hands glued to the wheel. The guard in charge walked up to Mustang, saying something I couldn't understand before a wad of Allied credits was slipped out the window. Nodding, the guard quickly shoved the money into one of his pockets and motioned for the gate to be raised.

If Riyadh was like Las Vegas, Al Majmaah was Reno. There were only a few scattered buildings taller than three stories, the rest were blocky homes/shops for the locals. But while the locals looked about the same as the ones were saw in Riyadh, the biggest difference was that instead of men in Western suits, there were Coalition infantry patrolling in twos and threes. Tanks sat on corners and next to the intersections, and as we passed a traffic circle a massive steel rectangle of a tank sat with infantry watching the traffic pass by.

"They really don't trust their own people do they?" Laura said as we drove into one of the city's neighborhoods down a narrow street off the main highway.

Brede nodded. "If half your personal guard betrayed you, you'd be paranoid too."

Mustang finally parked in front of a small shop, miniature sand dunes moving across the road in front of us as a few city residents perked up at our being there. Stepping out, Mustang put on his cap and looked back at us. "Alright, Havoc and I will see about getting gas to top off the Leopards. Falman, Brede, stay with the vehicles. Hawks, take Fuery and the explorers, get us some food so we don't have to start digging into the rations yet. Meet back here in twenty."

Everyone scattered, Mustang and Havoc walking down the road to what I could only presume was a dry goods store. Even with their skin marking them as foreigners, their surplus Reservist uniforms didn't mark them as being too out of place. The one thing I did notice on Hawks and Fuery was their shoulder patch, a skeletal horse charging you head on wreathed in flames. Around it was "ROD-144: And Hell's Coming With Him".

"So where do you get a bite to eat in a town like this?" Laura asked. "Place doesn't look like it'll have much."

"No one really dines outside like in New York," Fuery said, the small smile on his face a welcome break from how serious everyone around us looked. "There are so many particles in the air that it wouldn't mean much to sit outside and eat."

"Makes sense," Laura said thoughtfully. "So where to then?"

"Over there," Hawks said, nodding to a small shop with a metal sign above it. Bullet holes marked the sign, and underneath were the heads of a lamb and chicken, probably marking what was being served inside. I realized that as we walked inside, we must've made quite the sight. Haws with her scoped Springfield rifle, Fuery with his M3 grease gun, and Laura and I with our own weapons.

There were only three people inside the shop, the man behind the counter and two old men with snow white bears half-watching, half-glaring at us as they smoked from a small hookah. Hawks walked up to the counter and started talking with the shopkeeper while Fuery led us to another table to wait.

"She seems all business," Laura said. "She always like that?"

"I guess you could say so," Fuery laughed. "Even when she was training her dog she acted like he was in a boot camp situation. Still, the lieutenant's a good person deep down. She was the one who taught me a lot about how Recon worked."

"So you all served in the Gulf?" I asked.

"Yeah, I was moved a year before the Empire attacked." Fuery smiled a little, his eyes traveling back to earlier days. "There's nothing like it, charging across an endless desert with an entire company of Recon around you. We'd drive and drive, night and day, only stopping when we arrived at an outpost. It was hard at first, but eventually I started to pick up on the little things with the lieutenant's help."

"It'll be a good twenty minutes before the food's ready," Hawks said as she sat down with us. "I ordered everyone lamb and rice."

"Sounds good to me," I said. "So, I guess it's safe to say you're freelance mercenaries?"

"Independent contractors," Hawks said flatly. "None of us wanted to work with Legion Security due to how they write up contracts, and the II enforcers don't get the option of using their own personal loadouts."

"What about Pacifica Security?" Laura asked. "They're having a good run."

"Pacifica is still to small a company for us to have any interest in," Hawks answered. "Maybe in a few years, but not now."

That pretty much shut down the conversation, and for the next few minutes we were drumming our fingers waiting for the food. People whispered to each other as they walked outside down the street, undoubtedly at our cars waiting to go again.

As we waited, two men walked in and made an order before sitting a table down from us. At first I ignored their conversation, but then I looked over at Laura and saw her glaring at them furiously, and quickly tuned my ears in.

"They're just a few miles to the North of us," one of them said, his voice a corn-fed accent from the Midwest without a doubt. "We join up with them, we'll get some of that cash she's been sending them for it."

"But what about the desert?" the other one said, younger and clearly a little intimidated by the first man. "We're only here to prove that the Coalition's desertification is worse than they're telling the world."

"We already have a lot of data on that cover-up," Corn-Fed said, sounding like a con-man trying to sucker in another rube. "We'll head north and join them, who cares about why they're here."

"What about Mitch and everyone else?" the second many asked. "We should at least tell them right?"

The first man scoffed. "This should be our money man, why the hell should we bother with them taking a cut? We'll get the cash then come back and no one has to give a damn."

The second man mumbled for a few seconds, then said, "No, we have to tell them okay? We can't just leave then hanging like this."

Corn-Fed sighed. "Fine, we'll tell Mitch, but then we're getting outta here." Two chairs scraped against the floor, and two sets of boots walked out of the shop.

"I'm following them," Laura said as she started to get up. I quickly grabbed her arm and tried to hold her back, but she didn't sit back down. "You heard them, who else could they be?"

"What's going on?" Hawks asked.

"The Network," Laura whispered. "We've had a run in with them once, they're a bunch of terrorists who like to attack and terrify innocent people."

"We aren't here for these people babe," I said quietly into Laura's ear. "We get out food, we go to the cars, and we leave. There's nothing else we should worry about right now."

"And wait until there's another group of people being treated like they're somehow not people?" Laura shook her head. "We need to keep the Network from getting any kind of foothold around here, you know that."

"We're on our own here Laura," I said.

"Hey, what about us?" Fuery asked.

"This is something personal," Laura said. "There's no money involved, these people tried to hurt people I care about."

"What's the background?" Hawks asked.

"They make people paranoid and afraid," Laura said, finally getting out of my grip and moving towards the door. "Then they pick a target and try to destroy them when they've probably done nothing wrong."

I hurried out behind Laura onto the street, and she looked down the street to see the two men walking along the street towards the south past the Leopards. Laura quickly started following with her head down, but before I knew whether or not to talk Laura out of it I heard footsteps behind me and saw Hawks and Fuery standing behind me in the doorway. "If either one of you is dead, our combat effectiveness is diminished. The more of us working together, the better odds we have of succeeding."

I nodded, and set to following Laura. Corn-Fed was busy pulling his partner close in a hug and shaking him, excitedly going on about whatever they were hoping would happen when they left. Laura just kept stalking forward, her Thompson slung over her shoulder to try and help her look at least a little more casual. Looking back, I saw Hawks motion to Brede and Falman. Both nodded, and Falman was soon following along with us as Brede stayed with the Leopards.

I noticed little kids poking their heads out of their houses and out of alleyways as we walked, looking at us with innocent curiosity. Some of them were brought back inside by their mothers, but the kids on the street watched until we passed out of their sight. In the distance, a man called out to the city that it was time for one of the five daily prayers from the nearest mosque. The city seemed to get quieter, but that was probably partly because as we followed the two the paved streets became tracks in the sand. The heat was starting to build more and more, like someone was stacking hot coal on the back of your neck without giving you a warning about it.

The two walked into what I could only presume was an abandoned supermarket, the once-clean front now a dusty shell with whole sections of boarded up windows in the front. Corn-Fed was so excited about what he was planning, he didn't even bother looking around to check if he was being followed.

Slipping around the back, we ducked low and ran along the wall. The only door was locked, and Laura slammed her fist into the wall in frustration.

"Hold on," Fuery said. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out one of the new plastic credit cards and slipped it inside the door. Jiggling it for a few seconds, he shook his head and pulled out a number of credit cards, and after a few seconds we heard the door slide open.

"Well what do you know," I whispered. "You never should leave home without it."

Crouching low, the five of us scattered through the back of the store. The cracked doorway was the only thing letting any light in, and even in the darkness inside the temperature still wouldn't let up. Scurrying through the space like rats, we drew our weapons and shuffled forward, mindful of anything and everything that might jump out to try and attack us. Even in the dim light it was clear to see there was nothing back in the storage area, just bare shelves and the lost shipping receipts of the owner. But as we got closer, we heard voices in the main area of the store and held for a second. I strained to hear two voices, one young and excitable, the other older and clearly annoyed.

Looking around, I saw Laura motioning to a cracked door to the market, and the rest of us quickly closed in. I kept to the back and let the professionals stack up, but now I was close enough to actually hear what was going on.

"Are you insane?" the older voice said forcefully. "Those idiots are going up against the GLA, and *losing*. We're better off staying as far away from there as possible, and I won't stand around and let you two commit suicide like that."

"Well why don't we put it to a vote?" Corn-Fed said. "How many here want to go to Ar Ruqi?" The silence gave me a second to look at everyone else in a shared realization before Corn-Fed started talking again. "And how many want to keep looking at sand? I thought so."

The older man grunted. "Fine, you all want to get yourselves killed? Go ahead, I'm not guilty of murder if you all chose to do it to yourselves."

"Now I've actually been thinking about that," Corn-Fed said, his voice suddenly jovial. "Why even let you stick around?"

Laura ran out, firing a quick burst from her SMG as the rest of us followed. The Network men shouted and ducked for cover, and as I followed them into the market I saw that the shelves had been cleared out, and in their place was a makeshift garage with two makeshift armored cars in the center. We quickly circled the dozen or so men, Laura keeping her weapon trained on Corn-Fed. I finally got a good look at the boy, and couldn't say I was surprised. He was built like a typical meat-head, all muscle and gristle with a confused look in his eye. His crew-cut hair matched perfectly with his pudgy face in a weird way, and the way his hand twitched it was obvious he was all bluster with no killer instinct despite his surplus gear and uniform. The man he'd been confronting was about thirty, and had decided to trade surplus uniforms for civilian desert gear. He was about as average as you could expect a man to be, and something told me that was why the rest of the Network wanted him dead.

"Okay jerks, the party's over." Stepping closer, Laura quickly tackled Corn-Fed to the ground and pinned him despite his massive bulk on her. "Tell us what's going on in Ar Ruqi?"

The former-leader of the Network team scoffed. "Some idiots are trying to do something stupid that's what. We're only here to prove that there's something wrong with the Coalition's desertification weapons."

"Good cover story," Laura said, using one hand to keep her weapon trained on the man. "Who are you all hunting this time huh? Coptic Christians? Shi'ites? Don't give me any lies, tell me why you're all really here."

"What are you talking about?" the man said, the Network cell looking at each other in confusion. "Why would we care about what Coptic Christians are doing? And what the hell is 'shi'ite'?"

I shot a quick glance towards Hawks, and we both started to slowly lower our weapons a little. "Laura, you should get off him now."

Laura turned her glare on me. "What are you talking about, they're Network aren't they?"

"I don't think they're like the ones we had to deal with though," I said. "I don't think they're trying to hurt anyone."

The older man looked like he had a question for us, but before he could ask it we felt a rumbling around the store. Hawks and her squadmates quickly threw down their weapons, and Laura and I realized we needed to do the same and follow their lead by throwing our hands in the air. The Network cell quickly did the same, and seconds later what was an abandoned supermarket was filled with Coalition troops ordering everyone around in Arabic. Then they realized we were already doing what they wanted, and despite the confused looks on their faces we were detained and brought outside.

Mustang and the others stood just outside the Coalition force arresting us all, nodding to us as we were taken into a paddy wagon. Hawks and Fuery were with us, along with the cell's deposed leader and a few of the Network cell. They all looked at us like we were a threat, trying to edge away as much as possible from Laura. Laura looked at me with a grin, and seeing no other reason not to, I smiled and nodded. Putting on her creepiest smile, Laura leaned close to the nearest Network man. "So do you know what it's like to see a woman give birth?"

By the time we finally were taken out of the paddy wagon, two or three of the Network cell collapsed to the ground and started retching and dry heaving. The others looked woozy, and one had to be kept upright to even walk. Falman was a little shaky as well, but Hawks kept her same stone-faced expression. "I feel like you were going easy on them," she said. "You forgot to mention the afterbirth."

"Well a few of them looked faint after I described what happens when the water breaks," Laura said. "I didn't want any of them to pass out and miss the really fun parts."

The Coalition men gestured us forward, and handcuffed we followed their instructions to march towards a massive block of a building. Even over the massive walls around us, there were the sounds of heavy vehicles and groups of men moving about everywhere around us. But the immediate concern were the tall guard towers looming around us as we were lead into what was obviously a stockade. The squat, off-white building had small, escape-resistant windows meant to prevent a full-grown man from getting out by cutting any bars. At one time, it had probably been meant to serve as an armory or storage facility for the Peacekeepers, but as a stockade I suppose it wouldn't hurt.

The interior of the building was sparse, but filled with cameras and guards. The men were quickly patted down, but the Coalition troops seemed hesitant to do the same to us. Realizing that they probably didn't have any female personnel immediately available to pat us down, Hawks nodded to us and we turned around. Quickly she patted us down, and Laura did the same to her. "Uh, you sure about this?"

"Right now their trust is more important," Hawks said. "Do it."

Nodding, Laura took out from inside Hawks' jacket a small holdout revolver. She quickly popped and emptied the cylinder, handing the ammo and weapon over to the nearest guard. The guards nodded, and we were led along to the back of the building. A central holding cell was set in the center of things, a massive wire mesh cage that the Network prisoners were already milling around in. A few local men were inside as well, speaking quietly to each other on seeing us. One of them went up to the mesh and started shouting to the guards, but a stern shout from a sergeant quieted him and sent him back to the small group. Fuery and Falman were already inside the mesh to the side, backs to the mesh and watching the Network men suspiciously.

"You okay?" Hawks asked.

"Fine LT," Fuery said. "Those Network guys were a little panicky though, they didn't know what to do. I don't think they had any idea they could be arrested by the Saudis."

"Glad we broke their little fantasy then," Laura said with a grin. "Can't wait to see them on trial."

"That's the thing," Fuery said quietly. "They kept talking about having all the proper permits and payments made, I don't think they were here illegally."

Laura blinked for a second. "I don't understand, how could they just get let into this country?"

"Bribery," Hawks said bluntly as she looked towards the man who had been leading the Network cell. "Hey, I need to talk with you, now."

The man had been standing separately from the others, and despite shooting Hawks a harsh glare he stomped over. His shoulders sagged with his being deposed, but his face was still set to scowl at anyone who even dared talk to him. "What do you all want?" he asked.

"How much was it to get you all inside the country?" Hawks wasn't blunt, didn't hesitate to go right for the jugular.

The man sighed, taking off his cap to wipe the sweat away from his balding head. "It was about five hundred dollars for each man, it was basically all of our funding."

"Funding?" Laura laughed a little. "Who the hell would fund thugs like you?"

The man folded his arms. "The Massachusetts Institute of Technology," he answered. "We've been studying adverse weather phenomena for the past few years now, Saudi Arabia was our next big trip."

Laura's mouth hung down like a window shade. "But...But you're all with the Network..."

The man shook his head. "*They're* with the Network. That big idiot," he said, nodding to Corn-Fed. "He's been trying to rope my students into getting deeper and deeper in bed with those lunatics. All I like is the fact that they have the armored cars, I never even let them put any weapons on the cars or on their persons."

I nodded. "So all you're interested in is the science?"

He nodded. "The world's getting to be a dangerous place for a lot of people, and all these insane weapons systems aren't helping. But so much of this stuff is wrapped up in 'military security' that we can't study it."

Hawks looked around at the guards. "So you decided to head somewhere you could pay the military to look the other way."

The man sighed. "The Allies were never gonna let us study cryo-weapons and their effects, and the Contingent won't let anyone in their borders to study their artificial gravity. The Coalition has desertification weapons, we figured they would be the easiest to work with by not working with them at all." Laura's whole body seemed to fall, her mind rearranging itself to work with the new information as the man went on. "But then he starts talking about this fight up north between some Network idiots and the GLA, and I can't shut him up enough."

"Looks like you underestimated him," Hawks said. "All you saw was a brash fool, what he wanted you to see."

"I guess you're right," the man replied. "God, I just want to go home so badly right now."

"Then we'll try to get you out with the rest of us," I said, putting a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder and giving him a smile. "Think of it as our apology. I'm Amy Smith."

The man perked up. "The explorer? Go figure, never thought I'd run into one of you."

"Yeah, you just run into all types of people in this job," Laura sighed, covering her eyes.

"Well, I'm Dr. Walter Philips," the man said, shaking my hand. "And I'm...well, I'm still angry at you all, but I think you probably saved my life."

"Not necessarily," Hawks said, glancing over at the men who were in the cage first. "Those men over there, they're probably GLA. If they decide to start something, they won't hold back."

"The way I'm feeling right now that won't mean anything," Laura said. "Want me to start some trouble before they can?"

"Escalation of force," Hawks said. "We hold for now."

So we sat in the cage, watching as the sun drifted through the sky. There was no air conditioning or even a fan, so it was probably for the best that we just sat around doing nothing. The GLA men just kept glaring at us, probably because Laura, Hawks, and I offended some of their sensibilities somehow. But Corn-Fed just kept talking with the students, all of them wrapped up in his words like fish in a net.

After a few hours, one of the guards spoke up and the door was unlocked. Turning around, we all stood up and watched as a sergeant motioned to Corn-Fed. Smiling, the mass of muscle pretending to be a man motioned for the students to follow him out. Sheepishly they obeyed, but when one of them tried to reach out to Philips the doctor turned away. "I told you didn't I?" he said. "You want to throw your lives away, I won't be guilty of it." Despite his words and the back to his students, we all saw his tears as his charges walked out into the desert.

By the time the sun was setting, the sergeant returned for us. The GLA men started to protest as we walked out, but another harsh shout from the guards silenced them. As we were lead out, two of the soldiers handed our weapons back to us before we left. Mustang and his men stood by, Mustang glaring at Laura.

"Please get in your vehicles and follow me," the sergeant said in heavily accented English. Walking outside behind him, he got into a Coalition Ranger. It was made for base duties, the top had been removed and there weren't any weapons mounted. Laura and I tried to get into the Leopard we had drive, but Mustang and Hawks got in the back.

"I told them I was angry at you both, it's why I was glaring," Mustang said. "But I am a little confused. Our job is to go north and get the gold. Why are you two hunting the Network."

Laura sighed. "The Network tried to hurt some people close to me. So I wanted to hurt them. Simple as that."

"Well it's a good thing the lieutenant thought to let me know what was happening," Mustang said. "You're lucky we let the Coalition handle this before anyone got hurt."

"You let them arrest us?" Laura shouted.

"Hey, easy on the eardrums please?" Mustang said, grabbing at his ears as Hawks simply closed her eyes. "You're gonna puncture an eardrum with that kinda voice."

"Why'd you get us arrested then?" Laura said as I followed the Ranger deeper into the base. "You didn't think to try and get us out of that problem?"

"I told them to arrest anyone inside," Mustang argued. "Unfortunately, you were all inside. Starting to see a connection?"

"What matters is that we're out now," I said, trying to calm Laura down. "Do you know where they're taking us?"

"To their commander," Mustang said. "He's agreed to meet with us about what happened."

"I'm starting to think I should've stayed with the GLA," Philips said from the back.

The sun was setting again, and as we drove through the base we saw Coalition soldiers walking about as PK Recon teams made repairs and tried to relax. I noticed in my mirrors that Mustang watched them as we drove by, a look of longing deep in his eyes. Hawks just kept her eyes ahead, she didn't move or breathe without making you think that it was all calculated and planned.

The Ranger stopped at the center of the base, a massive octagon of buildings surrounded by guard posts and roving patrols. Anti-air positions lined the roads, and as we drove in I could see flags lining our approach. "Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Jordan, the Allied Nations, they're all here."

"King Faisal doesn't want to offend any of his guests." Glaring as we passed the Allied flag, Mustang shook his head. "How thoughtful he is."

I said nothing as we pulled in behind the Ranger. What surprised me as we got out was that the ground under our feet wasn't paved, it was a mosaic. The entire area was a massive mural of blue glass and stones, and as we were led up to the main building proudly flying the Saudi flag I heard a massive fountain behind it. The buildings were emptying as we walked, staff officers and adjutants filing out for the day in pristine dress uniforms along with civilians contracted to work on the base. Two men in dress uniforms stood at the front of the building, weapons shouldered and loaded. The sergeant spoke to them, and the two stepped back and let us enter.

The interior of the building was almost a shrine of loyalty to the king. Cameras scanned everywhere inside as a massive picture of King Faisal bin Abdulaziz Al Saud stood looking over the entrance. A soldier behind the front desk looked up and studied us for a minute as he and the sergeant spoke.

"Amy, you and our guest come with me," Mustang said. "Everyone else stay here."

The sergeant nodded to the man, and walked out without even sparing us a glance. Seconds later another sergeant walked out from a hallway behind the soldier at the front desk. "You are in charge?" he asked to Mustang.

"These two are as well," Mustang said, motioning to Philips and I.

"Follow me then." Leading us on in his pressed uniform to an elevator in the rear, I noted that the sergeant didn't have any weapons on him at all, but the cameras surrounding us as we walked made me hold back from doing anything. Philips looked like he didn't know what to do, and I couldn't blame him as his hands drummed against his legs. As we stepped onto the elevator there were yet more cameras inside, four pointing down on us from each corner as we rode up to the top floor. It was cold, unemotional steel inside the elevator, bright enough that we reflected in it.

Following the sergeant off as the elevator stopped, we found ourselves in a long, white corridor. The walls were lined with pictures, men in military uniforms proudly puffing their chests out and showing off more medals than I had any idea what to do with. I'm not typically one for accessories, but the Saudi military knew how to make color work for them.

At the end of the hall was a small desk next to an ornate wooden door, the man behind it pouring himself a cup of coffee as he tried to finish up for the night. The sergeant gave him a quick salute and spoke, and the other man mumbled a reply and let the sergeant go back to the elevator. Grunting as he got up, the man sighed and knocked on the door. A voice from behind it said, "Enter."

The man, an officer by the rank insignia, opened the door and saluted to the man inside. A quick exchange in Arabic later, and the officer backed away to let us in, shutting the door on his way out.

The man behind the desk was a barrel-chested man with a large smile breaking through his well-manicured beard. His tan beret was marked by the symbol of the Coalition, the Eagle of Saladin. His office was an ornate shrine to the nation's military history, from a wall-mounted scimitar behind his desk to pictures of the man on operations out in the field with Coalition and Allied personnel. Accolades lined the walls, medals and awards on desks and stands wherever there was room. "Captain Mustang, an honor to have you here. I am Gen. Amir Al-Saud, and I welcome such a hero openly into my base. Please, sit down. If you're hungry or thirsty, I'm sure someone is still available in the mess to make you and yours something fresh."

Mustang bowed a little, letting us sit down after being in the cage for hours. The chairs in front of the general's desk were soft, and as I sank in I was half-tempted to just fall asleep and forget about the world for a little bit. "Your welcome is most gracious general. I'm also glad to know that your efforts during the last war were recognized."

"A pittance of an effort compared to those who gave everything," the general said quietly. "But I am most surprised to see you back again. The rumors were that you had taken up the work of a mercenary in the time since you were last here."

"Those rumors were true," Mustang said, no emotion treading into his tone. "My team and I were en route to Ar Ruqi along with our partners, on a mission from a private client."

"Then I'm afraid your client will be most disappointed," Amir said, shrugging. "That town is a battleground now, a free for all between the GLA and those mademen calling themselves the Network."

"May I ask what that entails?" Mustang asked, his tone submissive and polite.

"A most bizarre tale," Amir said, leaning back in his chair. "The GLA seized Ar Ruqi knowing, in a rare moment of clarity for their movement, that a post such as that on the border would be an ideal location for trying to act in both Kuwait and socialist Iraq. We merely tried to guide the civilian away from the region, the chance of conflict spilling into Iraq was too great to risk. Then the Network came into play," Amir said, suddenly looking befuddled. "They came claiming that they were on a rescue mission, believing that an American was being held hostage by the GLA, Bobby something or other."

I blinked. "Bobby Fuller sir?"

Amir nodded and smiled again. "Yes, they believe the GLA kidnapped him. So now the GLA and Network are busy fighting each other for a barren town that no one lives in. It's been going on now for about five months if I remember correctly."

"I see," Mustang said. "Then we'll be on our way as soon as we can to get out of your way."

"I'm afraid you cannot," Amir said. "You see the situation in Ar Ruqi is dangerous, even for a man as skilled as you. I have orders to keep anyone from going near Ar Ruqi unless they are allowed, and you do not have the right permissions to travel to a dangerous region." I shot a glance to Philips, who shook his head. Amir got up and walked to the window, looking out over the sprawling base as spotlights started to come on. "I'm afraid your paying of bail for your team is all that will be possible at the present time. Unless you're willing to share with me the name of your employer?"

Mustang didn't hesitate. "Musad Al-Saud."

Amir barely held back his laughter. "Musad?" Amir said something in Arabic, and judging from Mustang's eyebrows shooting up it was something very important. "I'm afraid you've been sent on a fools errand. You will all have to leave, or else face the king's justice."

"Sir, please reconsider," Mustang said, walking over to Amir. "You have my word that we won't cross over the border into Iraqi territory, we'll stay strictly to the city and surrounding area."

"I'm afraid my decision is final," Amir said, turning away from the window. "I must-" Mustang punched Amir's neck and grabbed the general's beret. As Philips and I watched Mustang ripped the gold rope off Amir's shoulder and wrapped it around the general's beefy hands. Mustang forced the general face-down into the floor, shoving the beret deep enough into Amir's mouth that it couldn't be spit out easily.

"Now tell me this simply or they'll find you dead tomorrow morning," Mustang growled. "Is the GLA paying you?" Amir nodded. "The Network?" Another nod. "Are there any civilians left in the city?" Amir shook his head. "Good." Lifting Amir's head, Mustang covered the man's nose and waited. Amir's eyes went wide, but he couldn't kick with Mustang's right left planted firmly atop the general's knees.

"Oh God," Philips said, watching everything with wide, frightened eyes. "What do we do, there's no way they'll let us out now."

"Calm down, it'll be alright," I said, quickly moving between Philips and Mustang. "We're going to walk out of here like nothing is wrong. We'll give the aide out front an excuse, then drive out like nothing happened at all. What matters is that we act like everything is as it should be and nothing is out of place. Right Mustang?"

"Exactly." Putting Amir's head on the floor, Mustang straightened his uniform. "Let's go, we'll only have a few minutes at best." Leading the way out, Mustang stopped at the desk and whispered something in Arabic. The officer nodded, and we quickly moved for the elevator.

Laura was pacing the lobby as we came down, and Mustang gave a nod to everyone. We made our way outside, back to the Leopards where the Ranger was still waiting. The sergeant nodded and started his engine as we loaded up, but despite the act I was terrified. Taking on terrorists and mercenaries was one thing. Taking on the troops of an actual government was something else, something that could land Laura and I in jail, if not being expelled from the Combine Exploratory Society.

The Ranger led us through the base again, the extreme darkness of the desert a pall broken by the sweeping searchlights undoubtedly looking for GLA biplanes. We rode through two interior checkpoints, waved through each time. Philips was shaking in the back, trying to keep himself calm after being associated with an assault on a military officer. Hawks put a hand on his shoulder and tried to keep him calm, smiling a little to give him a little lift.

By the final checkpoint, we were all a little on edge. Sure, in a movie this was the point where the heroes were found out and suddenly there's a great chase scene followed by a rolling shootout, but that couldn't happen here. Amir would call PK Recon for assistance, and by the time we even managed to get a half-mile away from the base we'd be surrounded and hammered to pieces. We were all thinking it, "God, just let us get through."

The guard waved us through, the Ranger parking next to the small guard house. I gave a nod to the Coalition soldiers and kept driving, following Havoc along the route that would hopefully get us as far away as we needed to be. After a few minutes we were far enough away that the searchlights became thin pinpricks of light in the distance behind us. "Hand me the radio," Mustang said. "We'll need a new plan."

"You're not seriously still going for that city are you?" Philips said. "You heard that guy, it's filled with GLA. There's what, eight of you guys in two Leopards?"

"It's like we're crazy or something," I said playfully as Laura handed the mic to Mustang.

"HiSaan 2 to HiSaan 1, Falman, get a map out and see how far it will be to Marj Allsoban."

"*About a good hour's drive sir,*" Fuery answered. "*You think he'll be there?*"

"It's the only place he'd take his people to keep them safe," Mustang said. "Besides, he still owes me."

"Old friends?" Laura asked.

"So you all wouldn't mind if I left once we got to this town?" Philips asked. "No offense, but I don't want to die in the middle of a fight between terrorists and lunatics."

"None taken," Mustang said. "Once we get to Marj Allsoban we'll arrange for you to get to the port at Khafji."

"Thanks," Philips said, sliding his hat over his eyes. "I'm gonna check out for a little bit."

As we drove, Laura was incessantly checking the magazine on her Thompson. I wished that we could have some music on the radio, but given how many cameras were around in the Saudi cities, the government was surely monitoring for "subversive" radio signals. Which definitely meant no rock to listen to. At least it would've taken some of the pressure out of the air.

As we followed through the desert night, we passed an abandoned gas station sitting in the middle of the sands. I had to blink a few times to make sure I was seeing things right, the last time that the station had been pumping gas it had cost 1.85 in credits per gallon. Looking back, Mustang shrugged. "They don't have the refineries in-country."

After another half hour, Mustang radioed, "We'll be on the outskirts in a few minutes, I want all weapons safe. No one fire unless I give the order."

I was about to ask what that was for, but then Laura bolted up in her seat. "Heads up, I've got horsemen coming our way."

"Stand down kid," Mustang said, smiling. "That's the welcoming committee."

Looking out onto the sands, I saw a squadron of horsemen and camel riders closing with us through the desert. HiSaan 1 slowed to match their pace, and as I did likewise I saw the riders carrying rifles, pistols, any and all varieties of weapons.

"Bedouin riders," Philips whispered. "I thought they were all being placed in towns by the Saudi government."

"Telling a Bedouin he can't ride is like telling a German not to be efficient," Mustang said with a smile as the horsemen rode alongside us. "You can't change their nature no matter how hard you try."

As we were lead tot he village, I noticed that the security cameras were all shot up full of holes, their wires cut and buried in the sand. The Coalition probably didn't care enough about the village to make any noise, and I could understand why. It was so small that I didn't even think it could qualify as a permanent settlement.

As we were led into the center of town, lights started to burn and illuminate the mud-brick houses. People started shouting to one another, crowding the open windows and lining the streets of the town. Where there weren't houses, the traditional tents of the Bedouin nomads sat. People streamed out of them in the dozens, and the part of my brain that shouldn't ever be allowed to talk jumped to "circus clown car". If the outskirts of Al Majmaah were just sand traps with houses sticking out of them, Marj Allsoban was the sandtrap to the sandtrap.

"Everyone let me do the talking," Mustang said as we pulled into the town square. A group of men stood before us, glaring at the Leopards as the horsemen rode around them. The man in the center was a large man, square-shouldered with a massive thick black mustache hiding his mouth from us. At his side was a massive curved dagger, and behind him were a group of men with rifles at the ready.

"Ronald Mustang," the chieftan said harshly. "It has been quite the long time since you last dared to show your face to my people and I. Now you come back and expect a welcome?" The men started to step forward slowly, and Laura and I stood in front of a shocked Philips. Laura slowly tightened her grip on her Thompson, as my hand started to work its way to my holster. "You thought that we would forget about you and what you did during the last war? That we would simply move on with our lives as you sped through the deserts?"

"What the hell did you do?" Laura said.

"There is only one thing I have to say to you Mustang," the chieftan said, chest to chest with Mustang now. "And you know what the only answer is."

Mustang glared back at the chieftan, unflinching as the two stood face to face. The air was still, nothing sounding except for shuffling feet and horses breathing. Then out of nowhere the Mustang and the chief skipped backwards flapping their right hands on their heads, then skidded forward shouting, "Yo!"

The tribe cheered as Laura, Philips and I just stood staring as Mustang's team smiled and started mingling with the villagers. "I think I missed something," Philips said. "Did they just do a Three Stooges bit?"

My eyes lit up, and I quickly turned to see Laura had a wide smile on her face. "You knucklehead, I told you to set up the tents!"

"And I did," Laura said. "You told me to pitch them, so I did! Nyuk nyuk!"

Still grinning, I held out my fist. "Pick five!" Laura did so, and I played at slapping her. Some of the Bedouins roared at seeing us do the bit, and started imitating all sorts of Three Stooges routines. They played at poking each others eyes, stomping on each others feet, and one elderly man even started spinning around on the ground going, "Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo!"

"Bedouin Stooge fans," Laura laughed. "I have found my people."

"I don't get it, how'd they all become fans of the Stooges?" Philips asked.

"We met the Chief's people during the war," Hawks said, smiling as she cleared her weapon and slung it over her should. "We were stationed in a village they frequented, and one day special services came by with some of Stooge movies. Well we didn't have a screen, so we set up a bedsheet in the village square and just started playing it when the sun went down. By the next night everyone in the village was clamoring to see the movie again, and when special services came back we told them all we needed were Stooge shorts."

"That explains the love right now," I said, watching as the villagers surrounded Mustang's squad with smiles. "They look like they've missed you."

"Within reason," Hawks said, nodding towards Havoc. Looking over, Laura and I saw Havoc staring blankly ahead, his cigarette smoldering away as he was surrounded by three elderly Bedouin women glaring at him. "Some of us didn't quite pay attention as well as we should have during the cultural briefings."

"Oh sure, blame the roguish blonde for stealing the innocent hearts." Sighing, Havoc tapped his cig.

"And who are your guests Mustang?" the Chief said, motioning to us. "New recruits?"

"Technate explorers actually," Mustang said. "May I present, Amy Smith and Laura North."

The Chief's eyes went wide, and in a small circle around us the people went quiet. "The two famous explorers," the Chief said. "We have read many of your stories when we can find the magazines. Tell me, what made you both dye your hair?"

I could hear Laura's eye twitching, but before she could do anything the Chief quickly came to a realization. "Ah, this is who you truly are then. Forgive me, for I was to say how much more beautiful you both look in person compared to the magazines. Your raven hair dances in the moonlight," he said to Laura. "And your blue eyes, they are like deep pools of the most pure water." Laura blinked, then started smiling coyly as she flipped her hair as the Chief turned to me. "And your long hair, so pure and radiant, it fits with your green eyes. They are like jade, beautiful at first glance, yet with substance behind it."

"Better watch out," Hawks said with a grin. "The Chief thinks he's quite the charmer. It's how he got himself three wives."

"How can you accuse me of using charms on others Lt. Hawks," the Chief said jovially. "With flaxen hair and such piercing brown eyes, you know what a terrible price you have wrought on the young warriors of my band. But I digress I suppose. Come, to my quarters. I feel we have much to discuss."

"Well, that was certainly interesting," Laura said as we followed Mustang and the Chief to a building set apart from the others in town. "What do you say, think we have what it takes to be part of a Bedouin harem?"

"You'd only have one thing on your mind once you got inside of it," I laughed. "I don't think the Chief would like you making it *your* harem."

"Don't worry," Laura said as we got to the door. "You'll always be my first choice."

I shook my head and smiled. "What every girl wants to hear."

The Chief's home was small, but there were rugs hanging from the walls as three women were laying out bowls of food next to a small circle of cushions. On one side was a table with a radio and papers, a map of the region plastered above it. They respectfully bowed their way out of the room as we entered, and as the Chief sat he motioned for us to join him in the circle. "So, do your new partners know about why you came here?"

Laura and I raised an eyebrow. "So Musad's invitation wasn't the reason?"

"It was a good cover," Mustang said. "The truth is we received two letters, one from Musad and one from the Chief here. He wrote us almost four months ago, but things are so insane around here that good postal service is almost impossible."

"The Coalition is rounding up the Bedouin bands where they are found," the Chief said, sounding defeated. "They say it is for our safety, but for months now many of our cousins have been fighting any GLA attempts on their herds and homes. The reality is that they fear our not living by their rules, not submitting fully to their control. They herd us into half-abandoned villages and towns, then demand taxes for their 'protection'."

"The Chief called us in to see if we couldn't help his people get back to their former region," Mustang said, Hawks taking some of the offered food. "Their old homes and herding lands are under the control of the GLA right now, and as is they don't have the forces capable of taking them on."

"Their former lands being Ar Ruqi," I said. "Why didn't you tell us this from the start?"

"Well Musad lied first," Mustang said. "Didn't you remember what Amir told us? He said the fighting has been going on for months, but Musad told us that he had surveyors out in the past two weeks. I doubt there is any gold near Ar Ruqi, just something he wants."

The Chief laughed mockingly at the mention of gold. "A fools errand. If there ever was gold near Ar Ruqi, it is long gone now."

"Well now I have some anger that desperately needs to be worked out," Laura said as she grabbed some food. "And I think you guys can point me at just the right place to let loose."

"We'll need to scout the area first," Mustang said. "We have two days from now until Amir decides he's healed his own ego and gathers his forces to come after us, and he'll head straight for the town. Can you get us close to the town Chief?"

"As close as we can," the Chief said. "For tonight, rest. We will leave before dawn tomorrow." The Chief started to walk away, but stopped. "Ms. Smith, do you and Ms. North know how to ride?"

"Cars or horses?" I asked.

The Chief laughed heartily as he walked up the stairs, his rich voice echoing around us. As Mustang reclined onto the cushions, Hawks turned and stared at us. "Really?"

"Everyone just get some sleep," Mustang said. "Tomorrow morning we're back in the line after all."

"I'm just gonna head outside for a few minutes," I said, pushing myself up. Walking out the front door, I watched across the emptying square as a few scattered groups of locals talked to Mustang's squad excitedly. Well, except for Havoc, who was still surrounded by the elderly women of the village. Smiling, I leaned my head back to take in the night sky. You might not have this problem if you live in the city or suburbs, but the night is an amazing thing isn't it. All those stars, hanging there, and you're just an infinitesimal little speck compared to them. But somehow, it makes you feel like you're in the perfect place. Like life was all a buildup to just that one moment. Or I'm probably just rambling.

"Babe, you coming to sleep?" Laura said, poking her head out of the house.

I nodded. "Yeah, let's rest up babe. Never ridden a horse before, should be interesting."

*Continued on Page 36*

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### Page 36

"Remind me why we can't take the Leopards?" Laura groaned. The sky was still dark, but even with the little sleep we could get Mustang's team sat straight as we crossed the sands towards Ar Ruqi.

"We can't afford to be heard or seen getting close to the city," Mustang said, astride atop his horse. The animals weren't magnificently decorated or dressed in colorful saddles and bridles, and their riders wore surplus Allied or Soviet desert uniforms. Only the Chief chose to wear his traditional garb, and even then it was a light brown color meant to hide himself in the sands. But where everyone else was riding a beautiful Arabian horse, Laura and I were riding two donkeys tied to Havoc and Hawks' horses. Fuery was back in the village, manning the radio with some of the Chief's men.

"Fine, but we have to ride on an ass?" Laura growled. The donkey started braying, and jumped high enough that when he landed Laura was thrown off balance onto the sand. "Oh come on!"

"Don't insult them, they're quite intelligent animals." Getting off his horse, the Chief picked Laura up and dusted her off. "He has more knowledge of the desert than you ever will, trust him to lead you through."

"I'll trust him to stink up my clothes," Laura said. The donkey brayed again and leaned it's bulk into Laura, throwing her off balance again. "Seriously?!"

"I think they're adorable," I said, scratching mine behind the ears. The donkey shook it's head but didn't pull away as I pampered it, and as soon as Laura was back on her noble steed we were off again. "So any ideas on what this plan will consist of?"

"First we need to scout out the city," Mustang said. "We need to note their positions and possible defenses, and get as good a count as we can of their numbers. Once we have that, we can come up some details."

"You like playing things close to the chest don't you?" I asked.

"Mustang has always been such a man," the Chief said. "During the war, he would tell no one a thing about his planned routes or attack plans. It played hell with ACIN trying to track him through the deserts."

I nodded, and as the sun crept over the horizon I noticed what sounded like weapons fire in the distance. We were getting close.

Mustang held up a hand. "Dismount." Everyone practically jumped off their horses, but Laura and I fumbled a little getting off the donkeys. "Leave the weapons here for now, Brede and Falman stay with the Chief's men and horses. Everyone else with me."

Mustang and his team ran quickly through the desert, and Laura and I struggled to just barely keep pace with him. It was like the sand was trying to swallow our feet as we moved, each step an exercise in not being sucked down or falling forward. To watch Mustang and the others, you'd think they were running on pavement with how they were moving. Mustang crouched, and even without him waving down with his hand we all instinctively did the same as the gunfire got louder. Ahead of us was a dune ridge, and slowly we climbed up it to the edge. Taking out some binoculars, the Chief and Mustang crawled over the top, and the rest of us followed.

The town, even from a distance, was a ruin. Buildings lay half crumbled everywhere, pops of gunfire erupting every few seconds. Smoke drifted up from the center of the village, and as we watched we saw two Cobras rode around the village firing off random bursts every few seconds.

"Our home," the Chief said, trying to keep his sadness buried from us. "It is, I think it is called, a 'fixer-upper'."

"Hawks, what do you see?" Mustang said, scanning over the village.

Hawks took out a rifle scope from her jacket. "I have three definite GLA positions in the town itself towards our right," Hawks said. "There's people wearing cooking pots on their heads moving around on the left side of the town, I'm presuming those are Network personnel."

"How nice, they're getting better armor," Laura quipped.

"It looks like the Network has another position to our left in a small collection of houses and a few shacks," Hawks said. "Do you see them sir?"

"I do indeed," Mustang said. "I spot two vehicles as well, they look like they've got improvised armor plate on them."

"Definitely the Network," I said. "They seem to have a thing for making improvised fighting vehicles. But why isn't the Coalition here?"

"Amir wants to make sure he has the forces to crush us and bring the GLA and Network to heel," Mustang said. "He'll come in hard and heavy, he'll shoot anything that's moving in that city and crush it to ashes. We can't let that happen, so the plan is simple. We draw the GLA and Network out, and let the Coalition finish them off for us."

"So we don't have to fight the Coalition forces?" Laura asked.

"No, we'll probably have to fight them too," Mustang said. "We need to take everyone's fighting ability down a peg to make sure they can't cause any more trouble."

I sighed. "Then count us out."

"You're telling me that you aren't willing to fight a man like Amir to get the Chief's home town back?" Mustang said.

"We're not going up against a government force," I said. "We took enough of a risk being with you when you hogtied Amir, we aren't going to get involved with a fight with the Coalition."

"You're afraid of getting the Technate in trouble?" Havoc asked.

"No, we're afraid of the Coalition bringing us up on charges," I said. "Do you realize what would happen if they decided we were committing an illegal action? We don't have any immunity from prosecution, we'd be hosed in court."

"Well Amir doesn't know your name, probably doesn't even know who you are, and as far as the world is concerned Amy Smith and Laura North aren't taking on the government, they're just doing a job for Musad Al-Saud." Sliding back down behind the dune, Mustang pulled out a small map. "If we follow this plan, we should be able to take back the city without either one of you getting into trouble."

Laura looked over to the Chief. "How much are you willing to give to get your people back into the village?"

"Our lives if need be," the Chief answered. "Ar Ruqi has been a home for longer than men can remember. We will fight for it, or die without it."

"Then I'm sold," Laura said. "I'm helping them."

I was going to start an argument, but Laura was giving me that look. If you're in a relationship, you know the look I'm talking about. That look of their eyes pleading with you, that expression of, "I will do this, but I can't do it without you." Sighing, I looked towards Mustang. "Okay, what's the plan?"

Havoc and Brede gave each other high-fives as Mustang laid the map down. "Okay, here's what we'll do first."

We kept close to the sand during the day as the sun reached it's apex in the sky, watching as the scattered squads of the Network and GLA popped out, fired a few rounds, then started running away again. We traded the binoculars between each other, placing bets every few minutes. For now, it was Havoc's turn with the binoculars. "Okay, I've got two Network with bolt action rifles going up against a GLA with a vest, what's the bet?"

"They all die," Laura said, reapplying some sunblock. "Guy with the vest manages to close the distance."

"I'm gonna say the Network this time," Havoc said. "Odds have gotta be in their favor by now."

We all waited a few minutes, then an explosion erupted on the edge of the city. "Laura wins," Mustang said, despite not being atop the dune to see what happened. "Hand it over John."

"Argh, I just cannot get lucky this week," Havoc said, taking out a few small credits and tossing them to Laura. As she laughed and slipped them inside one of her pockets, Havoc took a sip from his canteen. "No one down there really seems to be in charge do they?"

"I don't think they even know what's about to come their way," Hawks said. She's been motionless for hours, just staring into her scope and watching everything in front of her and speaking up every few minutes. "Otherwise the GLA would have sprinted out of the town hours ago."

"Or they think they can take on the Coalition," Havoc said. "Those guys almost have an ego as big as Fournier."

"No one has an ego nearly that big," Mustang said, laying on his back with his cap over his eyes. "Any patterns of movement lieutenant?"

"The GLA seem to have a makeshift headquarters and staging area on the east side of the town," Hawks said. "I count at least seven gun trucks and two Scorpion tanks...hold on, there's a tractor."

Mustang bolted up. "Are you serious? No, now the entire plan is out of line, we can't go in with a tractor."

"I didn't know John Deere had a problem with you guys," Laura said, trying to not look bemused. "What, will they plow our fields in anger?"

"It's probably a toxin tractor," Hawks said. "An improvised fighting vehicle made from civilian farming equipment and fitted with a high-pressure nozzle and hose weapon. Typically they're armed with stores of weaponized DDT or acid, most often in a two-tank configuration."

I started shaking my head. "That is so incredibly stupid, it's no wonder they use it."

We all went silent again, the heat forcing a stop to conversation for a little while. There was some more random gunfire from over the dune, and as the sun kept climbing we all just stayed as still as we could.

Laura finally sighed. "So. Why is this so important to six PK Recon? Trying to find that old projector for the kids?"

"Then why is it so important to you?" Mustang asked. "You heard your girlfriend, you both don't have a reason to be here."

"I asked first," Laura said. "C'mon, spill."

Mustang pushed his cap away from his eyes a little. "During the last war, our company was actually caught in the sights of an Iranian armored division pushing through the border. They were trying to split the land routes to Kuwait. Ar Ruqi was their primary target to try and cut off the supply route to the north. Well command was desperate enough to send us at them head on to try and slow them down." Laura and I shared a quick look. Recon were good, but driving into enemy tanks was a suicide mission for any Allied unit. "Well we did. We drove right into them full-force one night, straight into their jaws." Mustang sighed. "But it didn't work. The Iranians just buttoned up in their tanks and toyed with us. Even when we managed to take one down they had two more waiting to blast away at our people."

I tried to picture it, an assault of Recon PK across the desert against Iranian armor. Late-model Rangers and Multigunners against Rhino platoons. Of Recon jumping onto Soviet tanks and ripping open the turrets to hose down the interior. Maybe one of the Rhinos being seized and turned on the Iranians. Of the Iranians and their Soviet advisers quickly turning the battle around, running down Rangers and gunning down Recon with coaxial guns. There was no glory in the mental picture that Mustang was giving us, no brilliant win by Allied command. Just a last desperate grind to hold off defeat.

"I couldn't afford to kill any more of my men," Mustang continued. "I ordered a retreat, did my best to get everyone I could moving towards Ar Ruqi. By the time I was sure I'd saved as many as I could, I realized that half of the men in my Ranger were dead and that it was just Hawks and I left. Then a shell blasted our Ranger from under us. Now I'm barely awake, and Hawks is lying in the sand next to me unconscious. I'm scrambling to pick her up, and then I hear shouts and gunfire from where I sent my company. It turns out that the Chief was sending his people to save us before we could be captured."

"It was the kids," Laura said without looking over. "You gave them candy and treated them right didn't you. Didn't act like they weren't there or didn't matter."

Mustang nodded. "The Chief grabbed us before we could die, we owed him our lives."

"He's acting like he's the one who owes his life to you," I said. "What happened?"

"If you'd let me finish I'll tell you," Mustang said. "Well, what happened was that the Saudi government didn't feel Ar Ruqi was worth saving, and Allied command decided that they could keep up Kuwait's supplies by the sea. So I ordered that the civilians were coming with us, and I made sure our CO understood it."

"And your company carried them through the desert," Laura said. "So what then?"

"The Chief and his people had to stay in the military city for the war," Havoc said. "Ar Ruqi was written off until after the war, and even then it's obvious the Chief and his people couldn't just walk back in. Command confirmed the presence of unexploded munitions nearby, they cleared the roads but didn't bother with the sands to the north."

"So the chief's people had to find new grazing lands," Laura said. "Command found there were just so many shells in the sand that the Allies didn't want to risk anyone's lives."

"So they were in the worst place to be when the Coalition government started to round up the Bedouins," Mustang said finally. "Fools like King Faisal think the Bedouins will join the GLA, and idiots like Amir would rather extort them than keep them loyal."

Another explosion rocked the city, and I could feel Laura simmering besides me. "Have they killed any Bedouin?" she asked.

"No, just herding them onto what amounts to reservations," Havoc answered. I cringed a little, but thankfully Laura said nothing. "Then when the GLA rolls in, they can pay the bigger bribes and seize the smaller towns."

I nodded. "Well, I guess I can't just pretend I don't want to be here anymore, can I?"

"That's the spirit," Mustang said, sitting up. "Okay, the first phase of the plan starts at sunset. You two are gonna have to go into the town and tell the Network that the GLA are planning on going for the gold."

Laura and I just blinked at Mustang. "You'd better be planning on coming with us then," Laura said. "If you haven't noticed, we're not the most popular people with the Network."

"You're also people they might know if you've had past dealings with them," Mustang said, pulling out a piece of paper. "Plus, we have the letters from a member of the Saudi royal family. You two are good at making stuff up as you go aren't you? Just make up a story involving the gold and GLA and run with it from there."

"You have got to be the most lackadaisical peacekeeper we've ever run into," I said, glaring at Mustang. "One second you're all concerned and planning out how to retake the town, then you're telling us to improvise how to get the Network not to kill us after we're going to basically walk into the animal's jaws?"

"Do you two ever stop complaining?" Havoc asked.

Laura smiled and patted her pockets. "Only when I've got your money to make my troubles go away."

Another explosion sounded, and Hawks spoke up. "One of the Network vehicles was just destroyed."

"Look on a positive note," the Chief said with a wide smile. "By the time you both are down there, the Network may be all dead."

As the sun fell so did the sound of gunfire. Rifle cracks and the pops of pistols faded into the twilight sky, but as Laura and I crept closer to the city it didn't take us long to realize just how long and fiercely the fighting had been for Ar Ruqi. Even far on the outskirts you could see where the buildings had been shot to pieces, trashed and destroyed by how fiercely the two were fighting over what basically amounted to a one-horse border town.

"Sand, everything here is freaking sand," Laura said, idly trying to brush herself off. "I don't get it, how do people live like this? It's blazing hot all day, then you probably get home and spend hours trying to dust yourself off just in time for tomorrow."

"I'm more worried about what's waiting for us," I whispered. "How do we even know that the Network is able to know who we are? We only fought with a cell in the middle of Iowa."

"Let's focus more on fighting these ones here," Laura said. Motioning for me to crouch low, we kept quite. In the distance, a powerful motor was driving by through the sand towards what Hawks had said was the Network HQ, and the closer we crept the more voices we heard. Looking around, I figured we stood a good chance of at least getting into the Network's base undetected. Then the motor started getting closer.

"We're in trouble," I said. We both quickly stood up, raising our hands and praying that it really was a Network vehicle coming our way. Two incredibly bright headlights kept growing as they approached, a massive armor-plated car careening across the sand towards us. The small turret on the top had two machine guns on it, and they were trained on us.

Eventually, the car stopped in front of us, and one of the doors opened to reveal a laughing, farm-raised man. "Well, you two again. What'd you both think you were doing huh? Trying to stop us from finding the truth?"

"There's a lot of truth out in the desert," I said. "What one are you looking for?"

Corn-Fed blinked, but quickly shook away the confusion. "What do you both want?"

**WIP**

 ***Echoes of Adventure***
 ***Journey through the Quantum Gate***
 ***The Battle Against Annihilation***
 ***The Null Set***
 ***The Pandemonium Peril Palooza***
 ***Insatiable Incidents Of Insanity***
 ***Excursion Into Extremist Lands***
 ***Sightseeing At Silentium Soiree***
(R.U.N.) • Uncovering Multidimensional Conspiracies of Doomsday Puppeteers • Majestical Mystical Magnificent Maidens of an Ancient Order • Attack on Titans from the Under-Earth • (Abyssal Ancients) • (Drakonate of Rigelis) • My Secret Affair with a Multidimensional Black-Ops Agent • (The Horde of Unliving Metal) • The Million Man Militia of the Yellow River • (Polynesia Ltd.) • (NKGB Division A) • (Y-Files) • (Imperial Department for Anomalies) • (CBURA) • (SPIDER) • How I Won my Freedom in the Blood-Soaked Arena of Aliens Warlords • (Intergalactic Explorer's Lodges)