The two military helicopers stayed in formation and flew low, barely skimming the topmost branches of the tallest jungle trees.  The MH-60 Pavehawk flew point, with the CH-47 Chinook right behind it.  The windows of the troop transport were crowded with the helmeted and camoflage-daubed faces of soldiers looking out over the jungle.  They looked tense, as if uncertain of what they were flying into.

Neither the choppers nor the men bore any kind of insignia indicating from where they came.

"Up there." the civilian  sitting in the co-pilot's seat pointed at the buildings that jutted out of the sea of green, "That's the target."

"Get ready, you dogs!" their sergeant yelled, not at all happy to have a civilian as the commanding officer.

"YES SARGE!" the eight men yelled, shifting positions so as to be ready to dash out the doors.

Sarge leaned forward, "Ready to tell us the mission now, Baines?" he asked his CO.

Baines glared back at him, "In due time, Sarge.  Just make sure nobody is around to take potshots at us!"

"Hah!" a soldier muttered, "Not after a snootfull of YX!"

"QUIET BACK THERE!" Baines yelled, "That's classified!  One peep, and you'll be busting rocks at Leavenworth!"

"They don't bust rocks at Leavenworth any more." came the reply.

"A change in policy CAN be arrainged." Baines said mildly.

The soldier looked a bit perturbed, but said nothing in reply.  Sarge mentally ticked off another item on his list of possible employers of Baines.  He didn't like the entry beside which the tick marks were piling up.

In fact, there were a lot of things about this mission that he didn't like.  Baines as commanding officer was one.  Them flying over a foreign country under radio silence except for the very low power radios was another.  The lack of insignia was another, since meant they'd be treated as spies if caught.  The lack of a co-pilot or crew chief on this bird bothered him, as well as the single pilot and two civilians flying in the Chinook.

His biggest dislike was just being there: If this was such an important mission, why pick a Non-com like himself and a squad of average Joes?

"Let's split up and circle around," Baines spoke to the pilot and the Chinook with his radio, "if we get any small arms fire of any kind, we go there-" he pointed to a clearing 500 yards away from the nearest building, "Set down, and dig in for fifteen minutes.  Then we leave.  Look for anything suspicious."

"Roger!"

They separated and circled around.  Sarge nodded, leaning out of the door, "Large barracks, firing range, classrooms, and training courses.  Four to five thousand troops, with, oh, maybe one to two thousand support staff."

Baines grunted and nodded with satisfaction, "I don't see any activity.  Do you?" he asked

"No."  "Not here." "Nothing." "Poor guys.  Those courses look like hell!"

The radio squawked, "Uh oh!!"

"WHAT?" Baines yelled, "What do you see?"

"It's Travis.  Come around to the mansion and hang over what looks like a parade ground."

The Pavehawk wheeled around and headed for the Chinook that floated over the mansion.

"In front of the mansion." Travis said.

"DAMN!" Baines cursed.

"Don't set down there, sir!" a soldier said, "The chopper will kick up dust and cover any tracks!"

Baines glared at the soldier, then at Sarge.

"He's Porter, the best tracker in the division.  Do what he says if you want hard information really badly."

Baines looked like he had bitten a persimmon, "Okay, set down over there, in front of that building."
------------------
"THAT is wierd!" A soldier commented after glancing into the building.

"What Rogers?" Sarge asked him.

"It's a mess hall.  A huge one.  Built to hold a huge number of people at a time.  Maybe four, five thousand."

Sarge frowned.  It was more efficient and cheaper to hold rotating messes and make many smaller mess halls, "Um hmmm." he murmured noncommittally, not liking the mystery at all.  He'd been in jungles before, and he liked the unnerving silence even less.

The civilians, Baines, Travis,  and Connors, the civilians, were standing near the helicopters.  The soldiers were in a defensive formation surrounding the helicopters.  The engines were a few notches above idle, so the blades were still turning, creating a cooling breeze that was welcome in the hot, humid climate.  Another, more important virtue, was that they would be able to get the hell out quicker if necessary.

Porter had gone in ahead toward the dug up area they had seen from the air.  He walked around, looking, sometimes hunching down and looking closely at the ground.  After fifteen minutes, he got up and came back to the civilians.  Sarge joined them,

"So what's the skinny?" he asked Porter.

"It looks like a mass grave, sir.  He used a ditch digger to dig the hole and fill it in after he put the bodies in it."

"He?" Baines asked, "There was only one?"

"Yes sir.  Only one."

Baines swore while Travis asked "Are you SURE it's just only one person?"

"Absolutely sir.  Must be exhausted too, sir."

"Why?"

"He carried each of the bodies, since some of the footprint impressions are deeper.  At least thirty.  No recent sign of any other vehicles, and the ditch digger came in and went out on the same road." Porter pulled out the mission map and pointed, "See?  this road goes to this building marked 'motor pool'."

Baines had gone pale and was looking all around him nervously.  Sarge suppressed the temptation to yell "BOO!" and see him piss in his pants: Some momentary pleasures were not worth fouling up one's prospects for promotion to experience.

"It's just only one, Ted," Connors said reasonably, "Nine against one?  Great odds."

"YOU don't KNOW the WHOLE story!" Baines said shakily, "I want five to stay here and four to fan out and look around.  We're not budging or touching ANYTHING until this place is secure!"

"Coward," Sarge thought disgustedly as he turned and yelled out four names and issued the orders.

"Not by pairs!  One by one!" Baines countermanded Sarge's orders for them to pair up.

"But-"

"We don't want to lose two men at once!  And set those M16s on burst!"  Baines added, sweating from more than the heat and humidity, "I don't care what they told you in basic training!  If you see something worth shooting, aim at the chest and empty that clip completely!"
------------------
Private Jeff Weller looked around himself cautiously as he walked away from the relative safety of the landing area.  And with a bit of nervousness: the orders to go singly and to shoot in burst mode until empty meant that that Baines guy (CIA maybe, MI probably not, black ops definitely) was scared shitless of whoever he, Jeff Weller, was being sent to meet.  Heart thumping, he stopped to set up his M16 and put a couple of extra clips into an easy-to-reach pocket: At 900 rounds a minute, a 30 bullet clip would last only a few seconds...

He stopped, glanced at the map he pulled out, and decided to head toward the concrete block building in the distance.  He went along the path for a while, then stopped, "I'm a strolling duck here.  Maybe-"

He turned off the path and went into the jungle foliage.  He got to where he thought he was halfway to the next path, which led off to those large barracks they'd seen from the air, and then turned and walked as quietly and carefully as he could, stopping often to assess the area.  He felt naked: the total and complete absence of animals would make ANY animal-like noise stand out as prominently as a bull horn at a college football game.  He privately decided to take as much time as he needed and let Baines worry about his own ulcers.

After about 40 minutes of very slow and careful sneaking, during which Jeff was absolutely sure that the pounding in his heart and head was audible for miles around, he thought he spied something unusual.  Crouching, he carefully approached, pulled out his opera-glass-sized binoculars, and looked.

Someone with black hair was hunkered down about 30 yards ahead of him.  Jeff shifted his position to get a wider view and gulped at the relatively old, but very huge and effective machine gun behind which the person was kneeling, "That would take three men to haul!" he thought nervously, noting that the position was not fortified, telling him that the location of this particular defense had not been planned ahead of time.  He glanced off to the right and paled, thankful that his instincts, and Baines's warnings, had served him well: Whoever it was had a clear line of sight down that road leading to that concrete building, while being concealed in the foliage.  That meant a clear, and withering, line of fire also.

This guy knew what he was doing.  He was placed along the road to the most interesting building in the place.  He probably would have let him go by, waiting for the main group, and Baines, to come so he would get them all at once.

Thankful also that he had been ready to fire, he decided it would be prudent to follow Baines's orders and try for a chest shot: the bare neck and shoulders told Jeff that the person wasn't wearning any armor, but just a shirt.  He carefully and quietly circled around, double and triple checking where he put his feet so as not to make a sound.

"Perfect!" he thought, estimating less than 25 yards to the target.  Barrel shoot, even without a scope.

He lifted his rifle to his cheek and slowly went through the steps drilled into his skull by his shooting instructors, not wanting to rely on instinct.

"Exhale.  Hold breath.  Sight.  Squeeze S-L-O-W-L-Y."

The moment it fired, he started pumping the trigger, seeing the arms flail briefly in the air before his target fell to the ground.

Hastily, he yanked the clip out and shoved a fresh one in.  He rose up from his crouch and approached cautiously, holding his breath, rifle at the ready.

He exhaled, almost collapsing as his legs wobbled from the wave of relief that crashed over him.  The guy was sprawled over the machine gun, with maybe 10 to 12 bullet holes in him.  He pulled out the small, short range hand radio he had been issued and toggled the button.

"Yes?" Sarge's voice squawked out tinnily, "Status!"

"Weller, Sir.  I got him.  He had a big-ass machine gun trained on the road leading to that concrete building.  The one on the map with the question marks.  Unfortified position, but well concealed.  You wouldn't have seen him from the road until it was too late."

He heard Baines talking excitedly to Sarge, "Baines says to bring the body back.  Good work!"

"Yes sir!" Jeff said spiritedly.

He put the radio away, slung his rifle over his shoulder, bent down, flipped the body over, and gasped, "JEEEZUS!!!"
------------------
Baines was elated as he saw Jeff returning, the slim body slung over his shoulders.  The others had returned, and they were all gathered around the body bag that had been pulled out and opened, curious to see what or who had terrified Baines.

Grim faced, Jeff knelt down and very gently laid the body down, face up.  The men around him gasped and muttered under their breaths as it flopped limply onto the bag.

"A teenager, sir.  She couldn't be more than sixteen, seventeen." Jeff said, "Like my sister." he thought.  He felt sick, the memories of his sister applying makeup and excitedly getting ready for a date flooding his mind.

"Hah!  The Nazis defended Berlin with kids younger than her!" Baines said, "Didn't you empty the clip into her?" he demanded, frowning.

"I tried sir.  It was 25 yards, and the body flew out of my sight."  Jeff said, wondering if the vision of those white arms flailing would ever leave his memory, "You also didn't tell us about the hollow points."

"What??" Sarge gasped while the men looked at each other nervously, Hollow points were banned by the Geneva convention.

Baines rolled the body over with his foot, noted the bullet wounds in the girl's back, then rolled it back.  Frowning, he got down, grabbed at the thin material of the camo undershirt, and tore it open.  Jeff and almost all the soldiers politely averted their eyes when he grabbed at the green, strapless bandeau bra and pulled it down to the girl's waist.  Sarge frowned and mentally put a demerit beside Private Kyle Haldane's name when he noticed the look on the man's face as he watched Baines do this.

"What is it, Ted?"  Connors asked, frowning.

"You see any exit wounds?" he asked, pressing his fingers all over the girl's chest and sides.

"No." Connors replied, a bit peturbed at his boss's behavior.

Baines rolled the body over again and started feeling at the bloody back,"How many do you see in the back?" he asked after a few minutes of poking and pushing.

Connors counted, "About 11."

The men hastily scooted out of the way when Baines stood up, pulled out his 9 MM Berretta, cocked it, aimed the gun straight at the girl's head, and fired.

They came back, staring dumbfounded.  The head was INTACT.  Travis, who had been standing off to the side and listening, quickly came over and stared also, "But- but-" he stammered.

Baines quietly flicked the safety on his gun and put it away.  He bent down, probed through the girl's hair, and lifted out a flattened slug.  "See what you guys were up against?" Baines said, holding it up so everyone could see it, "This ain't yer average kid sister, guys.  Do you think the only thing this-this creature has is a skull tougher than plate armor?  Probably thought I was a pervert, huh?  Well look again, guys!  See these?  Eleven bullets hit, but only three went between the ribs to tear its insides up!  The rest were stopped by the ribs!  I was feeling for broken ribs, but didn't find any!" he glared around at them, "So what ELSE do you think it was capable of?"  he pointed at the mansion, "I don't know about you, but I'd rather READ about it than see it in action, coming right at me!  Now...  ARE YOU GOING TO PAY ATTENTION???"

"YES SIR!" They all shouted.

"Good!  Unload half the drums from the Chinook and fuel the choppers up.  Also take the big crates out and set them under that tree.  When that's done, I want you, Sarge, to pick four men, take both choppers, and check out that campfire we saw while coming in here.  My guess is that the campfire will give us some clues as to the range of YX.  If there are people alive in the middle of a dead jungle, I want to talk to them.  Here.  All of them.  Some of them may have worked here, so I'll want to question them too."

"What about the others?" Sarge asked, worried about idle hands.

"I want two to do a count of bodies in the barracks and outlying buildings.  I hope I can find a list, so we can determine if any like that-" he jerked his head at the body on the ground, "-were away when the bombers came.  I want the other two to check out the firing range.  We think their armory is there.  I want an idea of how much firepower they could have thrown at us if we didn't use YX.  Send your demolition expert, for I want it blown up after you have a good idea."

"Aww right!" one soldier said, grinning, "Fireworks!"

Baines turned, "Porter!"

"Yes sir?"

Baines smiled pleasantly, "Knowing now the type of, umm, person we WOULD have been up against, are you really, POSITIVELY sure there was only one person here?"

Porter slung his rifle off and stood it up against the side of the mansion's porch, "Absolutely sir." he said, undoing his gun belt, "The boot size matches what I saw, and there were no others.  Nobody here to worry about.  Not even the wild animals." he added, punctuating his sentence by dropping his gunbelt next to his rifle.

Baines grinned, "Good to work with a man who knows his stuff." he complimented Porter.  He turned to his companions, "Connors, break out the radio equipment, set it up, and use a mobile headset."

As he mounted the steps, Baines congratulated himself on being able to contain his surprise and act as if he had expected a teenager with a bulletproof skeleton all along, "Johnson NEVER suspected THAT!" he thought shakily, "Damn, what the hell ELSE did Von Richter enable them to do?"

While his men scurried to unload the Chinook, Sarge went over to the girl and looked at her for a long moment.  He then got down, rolled her onto her back, pulled the bra back up to where it belonged, and moved the shreds of the ripped shirt to cover her chest.  He shifted her limbs around so he could get her into the body bag.

"Poor kid," he though as he zipped the bag over her pretty face, "Looks like she was so tired from burying whoever is here, she nodded off waiting for us and let Weller get the drop on her.  Oh well, better her than one of my men."

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