The inside of the BTR60 was cramped, especially when you shared it with men as large as Boris. The ride was somewhat bumpy as the all terrain APC went over rocks and felled trees. It seemed that after the previous weeks assault the local forces had decided that it wasn't worth the effort to take the hill, or had more likely been unable to continue the assault. They had used the shell craters as mass grave pits and used engineering vehicles to push the bodies of the men, animals, and other creatures into them. They then poured petrol on the bodies and burned them to prevent disease and even now, greasy black smoke was rising into the sky like filthy, grasping fingers making Feliks glad that he had been picked for recon duty instead of cleanup duty. There was talk of high command sending more forces through to reinforce them which Feliks thought to be unnecessary. Nothing sent at them had even threatened to dislodge them.

Regardless though, the Gate as it was simply called, never ceased operation. It was wide enough for eight T-62 main battle tanks to drive through abreast with at least a meter separating them and day and night trucks poured through bringing munitions, food, water, equipment, and more forces. All of it current or slightly older model equipment available to the Soviet Union. The newest weapons such as the T-64 main battle tanks was kept on ready status in Europe and the withdrawal of such weapons would have drawn suspicion and raised tensions between the Union and NATO.

The passage of so many vehicles at the top of the hill churned the earth into a soupy, rutted mess that was repaired and leveled constantly by the engineers, only for it to be torn apart again in an endless cycle of churning tires and treads.

As it stood now, Feliks was in just one of many patrols being sent out into the surrounding area. Mi 2 helicopters were conducting recon flights, but they could not see through the dense forests surrounding the mountain and command wanted an accurate picture of what was around them as well as the artillery wanted better grid maps so they could more accurately plot their shots.

Two BDRM2s, three BTR60s and a trio of UAZ jeeps made up the patrol force, with the BTR60 in the middle of the column housing the lieutenant and acting as their command vehicle. The jeeps were full of cartographers and engineers tasked with helping to map the terrain. The helicopters took enough pictures to make accurate topography maps, but command wanted more detailed maps and local area knowledge which led to dozens of patrols like theirs scouting and mapping the terrain around them.

The smells of crushed wood, sap, and clean air filtered in through the firing slits of the BTR. It was pleasant smelling, natural and untouched, but the smell itself was tainted by the smell of diesel and gun oil within the cramped confines of the BTR.

The big bear of a man Boris in particular had to hunch to fit comfortably within the BTR. He was well over six feet tall and a mountain of muscle. He was also the man sitting next to Feliks and was pushing him into the rear of the APC.

They had been driving for a few hours now and were at least a dozen miles away from the main base camp by the Gate. The engineers and cartographers and whatever other specialists in the jeeps would take soil samples, plant samples, and generally do their field work, discussing what they found like boardroom scholars, while Feliks and Boris along with the rest of their comrades had to stand around and watch for anything that could possible threaten them, which amounted to very little.

On this particular day however, the lieutenant had gotten the idea into his head that he wanted to send a third of their force on a deeper patrol while the engineers did their work when they had finally found a promising spot. This section selected to go out ended up being Feliks' which was why he was now trudging through a forest he knew nothing of with no map of, and just a compass so he could find his way back to their patrol. Feliks was really starting to dislike the lieutenant.

"Find anything interesting yet?" asked Boris conversationally as they pushed through the undergrowth.

"Indeed Comrade Junior Sergeant. Stones wishing liberation from the oppressive bourgeoisie soil and wishing for a home in your noble rucksack."

"Ha, well they can stay in the ground, they're needed there."

"But Comrade!" exclaimed Feliks feigning shock and disbelief. "You would refuse to help the hard working, oppressed, and downtrodden rocks? Have you no shame Comrade Junior Sergeant? Do you not know that the only war is the class war?" Boris guffawed heartily at that, a deep booming laugh that if it could have, would have torn the trees from their roots.

"I can guarantee you that there are more types of war than the class war Comrade Senior Sergeant," said Boris in between laughs, wiping at his eyes. "What about the hardworking trees? Can you not see that they need your help as well comrade?"

"Imperialist scum and deciduous traitors to the motherland."

"You've got an answer for everything don't you kid?"

"If I don't I make it up pretty quick," said Feliks.

"Sergeant, I found a blood trail."

Feliks perked up immediately at that and quit smiling. It was Corporal Abram Davydov who had said it, the squad marksman. He was the newest and youngest member of the squad, still a kid at 17 years, but a crack shot nonetheless. A short man from the Ukraine that hailed from some rural hamlet near Odessa. The kid was new and young, but he had eagle eyes.

"We'll follow it, but let the lieutenant know that we're doing it," Feliks told the radio operator who obediently called the lieutenant who approved it.

Like a bloodhound, Abram followed the trail relentlessly, with the rest of the section following close on his heels, spread out in a combat patrol pattern. Wary of attack or ambush. They followed the trail for maybe a kilometer. It was faint but definitely visible to the sharp eyed marksman.

Light filtered in through the leaves overhead, giving patches of lights and casting shadows from the large and tall trees. Easily fifty feet for the smallest, the trees would take three grown men holding hands to loop around the smallest of them. This was an old forest and the gnarled roots snaked across, under, and over the ground at their feet making the going slow. The canopy above them made the forest quite dark in places and the thick brush sometimes made it necessary to walk single file. If one wasn't careful they could easily trip. It was unnerving walking through the dense foliage. They had poor visibility and dozens of hostiles could be hiding behind every tree.

After they had climbed a small hill, Davydov signaled for the section to halt and Feliks came up level with the marksman quickly.

"The one that's been making the trail is sitting behind that tree up ahead, I saw a hand for a second," whispered Davydov.

"Alright. Boris, stay here and set up, Davydov you Vitsin and Grekov will do the same. Belikov, guard the rear. Zonov and Averin, you're with me. Zonov you'll go around the opposite side of the tree that I do while Averin, you'll watch our backs just in case."

There was a chorus of yes sergeant and Feliks' section deployed quickly and efficiently. Feliks advanced with a low combat crouch, walking like a SWAT officer clearing a building, rifle up and searching for something to shoot at. With a quick hand signal to Zonov, Feliks went around the side of the large oak tree quickly, and was quite frankly surprised by what he saw.

It was a woman with long blonde hair in a dress, with long pointed ears and a slender face. There was also an arrow sticking out of her stomach. She was breathing, but shallowly and her dress was soaked in blood. Her complexion that wasn't hidden by a golden shroud of hair was waxy and white, looking deathly like a corpse breathing its last. Despite that her features were eerily perfect, doll like even in their symmetry and lack of flaws.

"Medic, get up here!" called Feliks authoritatively. Vitsin, the squads medic came running up and stood stunned for a half second looking at the elf woman with the arrow in her stomach before setting to work.

"Honestly Comrade Volkov I don't know what to do. She's lost a lot of blood, but I don't know how much and she's breathing and she's got a heartbeat, but I don't know what's healthy for her and what's not. The physiology is just...different. What I can tell you is that she is still alive, in shock, and needs surgery. Something she can only get back at base camp."

"Alright. Would waking her up help at all with smelling salts?"

"Maybe. It's mostly used for verbal cues to see how the patient replies to stimuli. Pain works too, but I have no idea where to pinch and if it would cause the same amount of pain stimuli."

"Well, one way to find out," said Feliks. He grabbed one of the elf woman's ears between his thumb and forefinger, then pinched and bent it towards him. The effect was immediate. The woman's eyes shot open revealing bright purple eyes, followed quickly by a loud yelp and a fist into his face, knocking him off of his haunches and onto his back.

--

The woman was currently tied to a stretcher on the roof of the BTR and taking the bumpy trail back towards Base camp. Vitsin had patched her up as best he could, stopping the bleeding but leaving the arrow in. He said that removing it could cause severe damage and possibly end up killing her. She had initially fought them when the had woken her up, been terrified of them even. They had bound her to a stretcher as much to stop her from agitating her wounds as to stop her from trying to hit them. Boris had nearly died from laughing when he learned that Feliks had been knocked onto his back and that his new shiner was a result of the petite blonde woman. They couldn't give her painkillers for fear of how it would react with her physiology, but they had given her antibiotics to prevent infection.

Now the woman got gone from speaking in a rapid fire lyrically soft language to glancing apprehensively at Feliks and whimpering in pain intermittently. It was odd looking at the woman. She was something from myth and legend, a Faye creature and yet now he was looking at her with his own eyes. She was the first living inhabitant of this world that Feliks had seen with his own eyes, though it was almost surreal seeing the arrow sticking out of her and her conscious and looking around. And her eyes, Feliks had never thought that he'd ever see purple eyes and he couldn't help but stare, but stopped when he saw that it was making the woman nervous.

"So I guess that it's not that you don't want a woman, you've just got more exotic tastes," said Boris, his RPD resting across his knees as he picked at his metal teeth.

"Why is it if I look at a woman, you assume I like her?" asked Feliks.

"Well when you look at a girl like that you like her my friend. If I had known all you needed to do to find a girl you liked was to find one shot with an arrow I would have taken up archery a long time ago."

The elf's ears suddenly twitched and her eyes went wide and she started shouting something in her native language, almost frantically as if trying to get Feliks's attention.

"See, she wants you Feliks. Open up your rations and share your lunch with her," said Boris.

"Dammit Boris are you so desperate to set me up with a woman that you'll try and put me up with one that's half dead? I mean come on-ow!" exclaimed Feliks. "The hell did you hit me for?" demanded Feliks angrily, rubbing at his head.

"I didn't," said Boris suddenly serious.

There was a whistling sound and with a whoosh of air and something passed close by Feliks's face. He saw it streak by. Arrow.

"AMBUSH! RIGHT SIDE!" bellowed Boris at the top of his lungs as he leaped from the roof of the BTR as it came to a screeching halt, barely avoiding a massive tree trunk that fell in front of it. Cracking wood sounding as loud as any gunshot followed by a tortured groan and the sheer mass of the tree startled Feliks more as the tree actually shook the ground as it hit. Feliks reacted quickly though, doing the same as Boris after cutting the straps holding the Elf woman's stretcher to the roof of the BTR.

"Boris, help me get her down!" shouted Feliks as the turrets of the BTR 60s swiveled to the side of the trail that the arrow had come from. Terrible howling sounded soon afterwards and the heavy KPVT machine guns started their deep thudding firing. The 14.5mm shells ripping up foliage and mulching bushes in their way, ripping out large chunks of trees, sending wood flying. As Boris was helping haul the stretcher and woman off of the top of the BTR, the troops inside started firing out of their firing slits at whoever was attacking them. Whoever they were though, they had made a big mistake. Five heavy machine guns, five medium machine guns, and near two dozen rifles were being used to turn them to paste.

Feliks flipped the safety off of his AKM and leaned out from behind the BTR in time to see a horned creature with cloven hooves and tusks that was frothing at the mouth running at him brandishing a club. It was greyish in color, easily six and a half feet tall and probably three hundred pounds with two small piggish eyes. Its clothing was a cloth merely wrapped around its midsection and the thing stunk even at a distance. It was charging straight for them instead of weaving in between the thick underbrush and using it for cover. Choosing instead to run over any bushes or saplings in its way.

Feliks shot a long burst into the thing, watching the heavy 7.62 by 39mm shells stitch bloody holes in the thing as seven rounds thudded into it. It took another half step, mouth open in shock at its sudden injury and then collapsed. Feliks shot it once again in the head to make sure it was dead before firing a few more quick bursts into the treeline before ducking back in behind the BTR60. An arrow whistled past Feliks' head as he ducked back behind the APC.

Feliks' mouth was dry, his muscles tense, twitching, his breath seemed short for a moment, and his heart was thudding in his chest as cordite assaulted his nose and the deep thudding fire of the KPVTs assaulted his ears. Feliks was also grinning like a mad man. Not a happy grin, but a grin that belied a more malevolent purpose. A thirsty grin, one that could only be sated by blood. He had seen combat before, not that he had told Boris that, and he loved it. Feliks sometimes wondered if there was something psychologically wrong with him for enjoying combat so much, but every time he was put into mortal danger he felt an almost sense of, Euphoria.

Boris was leaning around the front side of the BTR, firing his RPD from the hip. No small feat, even considering the size of Boris himself. He swung back in behind the BTR and on his own face was a similar look, revealing steel capped teeth. He and Feliks shared a knowing look and both leaned out again and fired at the gray skinned orcs that were attacking them. Hatches opened on the BTRs and the soldiers within piled out on the side facing away from the attackers.

The lieutenant had exited his BTR and was shouting orders a moment before a spear as long as Feliks himself skewered the man, punching through his light bullet and stab resistant vest.

"CONTACTS LEFT SIDE!" shouted Feliks, taking a knee and firing bursts from his AKM at the advancing orcs, the rest of the Soviet soldiers doing the same. The orcs were big, armed with large, crude iron and wood weapons, but they went down quickly to their rifles. The unique chatter of the Kalashnikov rifle never letting up, even for an instant.

A hard tap, more like a swat on his shoulder drew his attention to Boris who was yelling, revealing his shiny metal teeth.

"That damned lieutenant called in a danger close strike before he got skewered! Get your ass down!"

Feliks along with every other soldier present hit the deck, many of them crawling under the BTRs and BDRMs. The orcs roared in exuberance, believing that they had cowed the Soviets and renewed their charge. A moment later everything stopped, even the shooting from the armored vehicles and the orcs looked up when they heard a shrill howling. It increased in intensity, like a freight train barreling down and then the world exploded.

Trees exploded, turning the old growth forest around them into so much tinder and shrapnel, the Soviets curling up to protect their soft spots and hoping against hope that a piece of wood wouldn't find them and end their life. There was a physical force to the explosions being so close. They shook your diaphragm, rattled your head, and savaged your eardrums. The heat washed over you in a wave, feeling like it was going to cook you, bake your skin and make it crack. Peel away like old, work leather. Feliks had thrown himself on top of the elf woman, using his body to shield her from the explosion and cupping the openings of her ears to protect her most likely sensitive hearing from the blasts. The arrow sticking out of her stomach had been cut down to a nub to avoid anything catching on it, making it possible for Feliks to shield her.

Her eyes opened briefly when Feliks threw himself over top of her, but shut tight, mouthing something in her language as the shells fell around them. Feliks felt pain in his calf like someone had hit it with a wicker branch, but he didn't dare to move. There would be over thirty two 152mm guns raining steel and hell down on this area and they were putting out a punishing rate of fire, destroying the forest around them. The barrage couldn't have lasted more than few minutes, but when it ended it was like they were in a different world.

Somehow, amazingly, no shells had fallen on them and besides the lieutenant, none of them had been killed. The old trees, possibly centuries old had been reduced to splinters, with wood, sap, and mulched foliage making a cloying, sickeningly overpowering earthy smell that filled ones mouth and made them need to spit. Of the orcs, there were just pieces. A few, miraculously had survived, but stumbled around as if drunk. Bursts from AKM rifles put them down for good.

Feliks stood and noticed the elf looking around in shock and awe, as if unable to believe and comprehend what had just happened. She seemed to look at the soldiers with a new respect, almost fear.

"One hell of a good scrap, and you go and protect the girl, I knew you liked her," said Boris grinning his metal grin. It faded quickly though. "Ah shit kid, your leg."

Feliks looked down and saw his fatigue pants ripped and his left calf bloody.

"Damn. Don't think its broken, looks nasty though," commented Feliks idly as blood dripped into his boot.

"Get Vitsin to look at that, I'll help the boys clear the trail and get us moving again."

"Thanks Boris," said Feliks limping over and finding a clear spot where he put down his helmet and sat on it.

"Looks nasty, but it's superficial. You're lucky sarge," said Vitsin finishing wrapping a bandage around Feliks's calf.

"Don't I know it," said Feliks limping around after Vitsin finished. "Thanks by the way, feels better."

"No problem, but me or someone should change those for you and soak the wound in salt water every day."

"I think I can manage that myself," said Feliks.

"No offense Comrade, but your bandaging skills look like a blind t-Rex with coordination problems did it."

"It's not that bad."

"Well," said Vitsin training off.

"Leave me some pride Viktor," said Feliks, using Vitsin's first name.

"I'll try Comrade Volkov."

"Thanks Vitsin," said Feliks, limping back to the BTR and leaned against it, surveying the carnage around them. Wood splinters were everywhere and what remaining of the tree trunks standing stuck up like broken bones breaking through the skin. Feliks suddenly wanted a cigarette, but he had given that up when he had went in for special training so as to not affect his physical performance. Still, he really wanted one at that moment. He settled for taking a large wood splinter from the ground and chewing on it thoughtfully like a piece of wheat.

He took took his AKM off of his shoulder and swapped out the magazine for a fresh one and chambered a round with a click clack, then switching the rifle to safe put in back over his shoulder. He looked over at the elf and found that she was looking back at him with her bright purple eyes. This time it was Feliks who was made, uncomfortable was the wrong word, but all the same he looked away from the elf. A few minutes later they had blown the tree apart blocking the trail and continued on their way.

--

"Senior Lieutenant Feliks Volkov, doesn't that have a nice ring to it?" asked Boris rubbing a thumb over the new golden epaulette on Feliks' shoulder. "How the hell did you go from being a senior sergeant to a senior lieutenant anyways?"

"No idea," admitted Feliks honestly. "They said I could pick a new senior sergeant to replace myself though. Interested? You know, until you get demoted again."

"HA! Might as well jump a rank and get the better pay. Keep all these lazy bastards in line for you. So what was it exactly that you wanted to show me?"

"I was hoping you'd ask that. Let's head to the motor pool and take a look."

It had been a month since the patrol that had netted them the elf woman and been ambushed. In just a month the military presence had doubled at Base Camp, now being called Camp Zhukov after Field Marshal Zhukov from the Great Patriotic War. There were now 37 000 combat soldiers plus their support staff on the hill, bringing their strength up to about two motor rifle divisions and an armored division. That meant that they would have roughly 800-900 tanks and a little over a thousand assorted IFVs and APCs. Plus multiple regiments of artillery, both rocket and tube bringing the total Soviet personnel in camp Zhukov and the surrounding countryside at any one time to about 70 000-72 000 men. This included transport and logistic units bringing in and out supplies day and night. With such a massive influx of men, the engineering battalions practically never slept. They were constantly building roads, barracks, mess halls, hangars, depots, infirmaries, bunkers, and ever expanding the presence of camp Zhukov. Talk was of doubling the amount of divisions present again and with the amount of fresh troops pouring through, it was highly believable.

To another nation this would have been financial suicide, completely unaffordable. To a growing, large, prosperous empire like the Union in the middle of the largest arms race in history, it was a drop in the bucket for their budget to use against NATO.

They had also rush constructed an airstrip at the base of the mountain. Besides the quartet of MIG 25 interceptor reconnaissance models still factory new, they had older squadrons that were entirely MIG 17s because of their ruggedness, low fuel burn, and ability to act as ground attack craft if needed. Plus an added bonus of being able to engage...dragons at low altitude. The two 23mm and one 37mm cannons on the craft were proven able to take down and kill the dragons. They had gotten an entire fighter aviation regiment meaning that including the four MIG 25s they had about 67 planes organized into four combat squadrons and a reconnaissance group. It was a category C aviation regiment, basically a reserve regiment called up to active duty, but they would do their job and do it well. On the ground side of things, besides receiving more heavy firepower, they had also received a great deal more recon capability.

"So this is your new command huh?" asked Boris pulling himself up onto a PT 76 recon tank.

"Yup. One PT 76, One BDRM 2, two BTR60s and three UAZ 469 jeeps," rattled off Feliks.

"Damn, you're moving up quick aren't you?" said Boris, looking inside the hatch. "What do they want for you getting this anyways?"

"Well for the toys that they're giving us, we're also getting reassigned," said Feliks. "Me, you, and the rest of our section are forming a new recon detachment. We'll get vehicle crews to come along with us. I managed to get Dima and his lot in on it with us."

"Well that's good, Dima's boys are as good as any. So are we going to be rolling around with platoon strength infantry or what?"

"Not really no. The BTRs will be about half full while the rest of the space will be taken up by spare fuel, munitions and food. All in all we're looking at about eleven guys to go into villages and an interpreter. In total though we'll have about twenty two guys including the vehicle crews."

"When were you planning on telling me about this new deep recon mission?" asked Boris, feigning indignation.

"Right about now."

"Bah, young pups have no sense of time."

"Yeah, well that's because we have lots of it left."

"We've all got the same amount of time in a firefight Feliks, don't forget that and that's where experience comes into play. Speaking of which, who's going to be our interpreter? Some KGB prig?"

"I don't know actually, we're supposed to go and meet with Colonel General Alexandrov in about thirty minutes."

"The head man himself?" asked Boris, for once truly surprised.

"Yup, that would be the one."

"Well best get going then, you don't keep men like that waiting," said Boris hopping off of the light tank.

It was a ten minute walk to the general's quarters, on the way to which they spent another ten having their identity confirmed by no nonsense military police officers armed with assault rifles and manning machine gun and tank armed checkpoints. The general's quarters were still a large tent, the engineers not yet having finished constructing a more permanent lodging for the commander of the 1st Gate Army as they were now being called. They had their sidearms confiscated at the door by a full section of military police and were admitted into the tent. They saw The general standing behind a large folding table with detailed maps lining every corner and unit markers dotting it. A larger map was on the back wall of the tent, and it was actually a very detailed map at that. The MIG 25s had been busy it seemed.

Radio operators lined the walls, and several staff officers were typing up reports or orders, the metallic clacking of typewriters firing like miniature machine guns. What was more astonishing than seeing such a senior officer though, was seeing the elf standing beside him, dressed in Soviet field fatigues that were obviously designed for a man and fell baggily around her frame.

Both Boris and Feliks came to attention and saluted, waiting for the general to acknowledge them. He returned the salute crisply and invited them in. Colonel General Alexandrov was a career man who had fought the fascists in the Great Patriotic War as a young officer and distinguished himself in it, rising to his current position and leading an army of the Red Army.

He was a man pushing sixty and his hair was cropped short in military fashion with a scar cutting a line down the left side of his head, parting the hair there. He had dark serious eyes and a no nonsense looking face. He also seemed to prefer combat fatigues to a dress uniform which immediately raised Feliks' opinion of him.

"Senior Lieutenant Volkov and I presume the soon to be Senior Sergeant Kotov, it's good to meet you. I see the leg is doing better?"

"Yes Comrade General, it was only superficial," answered Feliks quickly.

"Good, glad to hear it. I presume that you are familiar with the young lady at my side?" said Alexandrov, pointing to the elfin girl at his side.

"Ah yes Comrade General, but only bringing her back to camp Zhukov."

"More than that I've heard, she's told me that when your patrol was ambushed, you stayed in an exposed position under fire to get her stretcher off of your APC and later shielded her during an artillery barrage. She's been eager to meet you again," said Alexandrov.

"Yes, I'm very grateful to you Lieutenant. If you had not come along when you had, I would be dead, and I would have died again had you not protected me against the orcs," said the elf in perfect Russian, shocking Feliks. Her voice was soft, lyrical, so much so that the usually somewhat gruff Russian language sounded soft as velvet coming from her mouth. "I am also grateful for your Union's help of my village and people. When you found me, my village had been attacked and we had been forced to run. I didn't know if anyone else made it away, and then I was shot and," said the Elf trailing off and getting a distant look in her eyes for a moment. "But your General has been most generous and he sent his soldiers into the forest and drove the orcs away. In the process he freed the people from my village that were taken as slaves. He has also extended protection to all of my kin in this region. In gratitude I've offered my services as an interpreter for the Red Army and I will be accompanying you on your mission in two days. Just as my other kin will be doing the same once they reach a proficiency in your language. My name is Luella from the Village of the Hidden Glade," finished Luella, as if remembering that she had forgotten to give her name, a somewhat embarrassed look of her face.

Feliks and the indomitable Boris who was never lost for words in any given situation were silent. Boris merely munched on his cheek as he was prone to do when agitated and Feliks tried to think of a response. Thankfully the general spared him from having to do make one.

"Citizen Luella is indeed very grateful and she has a vast local knowledge of the surrounding area and customs. I also have every faith in her intelligence and ingenuity and it is because of this that I have granted her request to be personally assigned to your recon detachment. I believe I also misspoke when I called her a young lady. Miss Luella is 135 years old and from what I understand, unless killed is immortal which makes her protection of utmost importance."

If Feliks and Boris had been silent before, they were now an empty void, neither even breathing for a moment as the information sank in. This young, perpetually happy looking elfin girl was in fact 135 years old and was going to be accompanying them as their interpreter.

"Uh, yes Comrade General," said Feliks rather dumbly, not knowing really what else to say.

The meeting continued on for a few more minutes, mostly just the General outlining what they would be doing in an overall fashion, telling them that they'd get the bulk of their briefing tomorrow by his new commanding officer. As they went to leave though, something unexpected happened.

Luella came from the General's side and went up to Boris. She stood there for a moment, leaving Boris unsure of what to do and then she reached up and looped her arms around his thick neck, before standing on her toes and kissing the large man on either cheek. She said something softly in Elvish to him, leaving the big man startled and actually had made the big man flush red in the face. Then she went to Feliks and did the same, and Feliks couldn't help but stare into her bright purple eyes and he swallowed heavily.

--

The next day, Captain Oleg Kedrov was doing a high level reconnaissance flight five hundred nautical miles Northwest from Camp Zhukov. Snapping pictures of anything and everything with the cameras on his MiG-25RB from 60 000 feet. He was snapping pictures of really anything and everything. Roads, hills, mountains, towns, even wildlife if he happened to see them. He had been doing this day in and day out and had to remind himself not to just idly snap pictures and look, but it truly was boring work after doing it every day for the last two weeks. However there was one thing that made him circle back for a second pass. Trucks.

They were in front of a little village and his cameras were snapping pictures of them greedily. This was huge. There was no indication of the Empire they were fighting having even near the technology necessary to make such equipment. Captain Kedrov lowered himself to 40 000 feet on his second pass to get better quality pictures and there was no denying it. There were vehicles down below and soldiers with rifles interacting with the villagers in a manner very similar to what the Soviets were now doing.

Going into a hard climb, Kedrov went back up to 60 000 feet and went at the greatest speed of mach 2.83 that the MiG-25 could do without damaging its engines and made a beeline back for Camp Zhukov, forgoing the rest of his mission to bring back this game changing new development. A day after Kedrov had made his report, two full squadrons of the latest MiG-21 variants were sitting beside the MiG-17s on the runway with the rest of the regiment to follow the next day.

--

"Hey Itami, what are you looking at?" asked Shino, the diminutive woman giving her superior a scathing look, expecting him to be slacking off once again.

"Huh? Oh, just thought I saw something. Must have been my imagination," answered Itami.

"Baka," muttered Shino under her breath.

--

AN: Will soon make more interaction between JSDF And our Glorious Motherland! Also the natives Reaction will maybe be add!

AN: Pls give idea so i can put it in story