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Chapter Text

December 1968, Evening

Presidio of San Francisco

California, USA

Prologue

Outside of the Lombard Street gates of the Presidio of San Francisco, under the gaze of the twin sandstone pillars carved with the bald-eagle emblems of the United States of America, a myriad of lights illuminated the streets punctuated by shouting and fighting. Steel drum bonfires and candles scattered amongst the sea of protesters illuminated protest signs that called for the end of the Vietnam War.

A line of San Francisco Police Department officers, augmented by Military Police from the Presidio formed ranks and held the line against the protesters with batons and shields. The vicious barking of guard dogs held back by long leashes competed with the anti-war slogans, punctuated by the flashing red lights on police cruisers and the intermittent sweeps from the Presidio’s searchlight towers.

Moments later, the police officers pushed back against the protesters and cleared a path through Lyon Street. In response the protesters began throwing tomatoes at the officers. One of those tomatoes struck the right pillar of the Presidio’s gates and sullied the talon of the bald eagle holding the arrows, while the others struck police cruisers and the helmets of military police.

Undeterred by the chaos, a brown 1966 Ford Thunderbird coupe crossed through the tomato-strewn pavement of Lyon Street. Its headlights cut through the darkness until it reached the wrought iron gates reinforced with chain-link fences. One of the MP’s hurried over to the side of the car, ducked under a flying tomato, and knocked on the driver’s seat window.

After a short pause, the window lowered and a hand brought out a small passport-like document. The MP took the document and scanned through it. He then promptly returned it to the driver and gave a stiff salute.

The gates of Lombard Street opened for the Ford Thunderbird and the vehicle shifted from neutral to first gear. All the while, the bright honey brown eyes of the driver regarded the tomato-stained arrows in the bald eagle’s talon.

Blood on the keys, and not an olive in sight. What are we to do?

With that, the Thunderbird carried on down Lombard Street and the gates closed behind it. The fervor of the fiery protests disappeared and gave way to the relative silence of the military base at night. That silence urged the driver to reach for the knobs of her radio and turn it on. Scott McKenzie’s song, San Francisco , sounded from the Thunderbird’s speakers.

“ For those who come to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair. ” The driver sang along with a placid voice and hummed to the tune of the rest of the song.

Before she could finish the song, however, she reached her destination that evening - the headquarters building of the Presidio on a hill overlooking Crissy Field and the Golden Gate Bridge. The driver pulled the Thunderbird into the parking lot and shut off the car and its radio along with it.

The car door opened and a pair of well-shined army boots hit the pavement. Lights from the Presidio’s headquarters illuminated the driver’s pretty face, her head of long brown hair tied into a ponytail and a pair of brown owl’s feathers that stuck out like cowlicks. She was dressed in an olive drab US Army officer’s coat with a matching green tie and dress shirt and well-pressed green trousers.  The shoulders of her coat were adorned with patches of brass bald-eagle pins and a single gold-colored bar: the marks of a Second Lieutenant.

On her lapel, she wore two golden pins: one that was plainly stamped “U.S.” and another showing the crossed swords of the US Army infantry. Then, over her breast, she wore her Vietnam Service and Purple Heart medals - both of which were polished to a mirror sheen - along with her name tag that read ‘NANASHI’.

Her most distinctive decoration, however, was the one she wore in her hair: a pretty golden hairpin in the shape of a runic R.

The driver checked her appearance off of her faint reflection on the Thunderbird’s window. Once she was satisfied, she brought out an olive green peaked cap, tucked her head of brown hair and her two brown feathers beneath it and wrapped a brown poncho-like shawl adorned with decorative hieroglyphics over her shoulders.

Now fully dressed, she then marched into the Presidio headquarters with her chest and head held high.

The Feathers In Your Hair

Are You Going To San Francisco?

First Verse - The Sparrowhawk and the Owl

Inside the halls of the Presidio headquarters, Second Lieutenant Mumei Nanashi stood firmly in parade-rest alone before a panel of high-ranking officials of the US Army. Stern gazes of the brass shifted back and forth between Mumei and the stacks of paperwork and Manila envelopes that were laid before them.

Four of the officials, one-star generals closely affiliated with the Department of Defense, talked amongst themselves and sang praises for the enthusiasm of the owl-girl standing like a cold, unfeeling statue before them.

She was called many names by these folks: a true patriot, a stalwart veteran, a shining example for the Armed Forces and an efficient operator who got things done. They cited her stellar record during her first tour in Vietnam among other things and endorsed her to the high heavens. However, none of those praises lifted Mumei’s spirits. The Second Lieutenant simply let her eyes wander to the American flag and the picture of the outgoing President Lyndon B. Johnson with halfhearted curiosity.

Only one voice of dissent was present in that room.

It was the lady general who sat at the center of the panel who watched Mumei and her papers with grave concern. The lady general’s long black hair nestled under her peaked cap had streaks of color that mirrored the Purple Heart medal over Mumei’s breast. Moreover, the bright blue sapphire pendant that she wore over necktie contrasted with her dark green general’s coat.

Mumei watched the lady general with skepticism.

Major General Cecile Sparrowhawk. Two stars. Aide-de-camp of General Creighton Abrams of MACV. THE MACV! Why did they put ‘The Eccentric One’ on my case?

As much as she wanted to speak up, she kept her thoughts to herself.

After their long round of deliberations, the lady general faced Mumei and spoke with a firm, commanding voice.

“Second Lieutenant Mumei Nanashi.”

“Yes, Major General Sparrowhawk.”

Sparrowhawk picked up a handful of papers and thumbed through them while she spoke calmly, “You have served the United States with distinction in your last tour of duty. This much is true, and I thank you for your service.” She then turned her bright red eyes to meet Mumei’s honey brown and her voice became stern, “However, you surely have seen the protests going on outside of the Presidio’s very gates. Draft dodgers are a constant problem of the Armed Forces. Folks who are deployed there can’t wait to get back home. Then there’s you - someone who was already drafted once - ready and willing to take another tour in Vietnam.”

“I am simply eager to serve my country and ensure that the war is won, madam general.” Mumei answered, gazing back into Sparrowhawk’s red eyes, “Besides, it is an honor to be deployed with the Airborne Combat Battalions. The ACB’s are the best of the best units of MACV.”

“They also have the highest casualty rates.” Sparrowhawk countered, “In this year alone, there have been…”

“A thousand deaths under MACV’s watch. I am aware, madam general.” Mumei interrupted, completely unmoved by the statistics, “Almost all of them are from the Airborne Combat Battalions.”

“And yet you still wish to go back? Even if you are not obligated to do so?”

“I simply wish to fulfill my duty, madam general.”

At this point, Major General Sparrowhawk rose up from her seat, aided by her ornate walking cane adorned with a crystal hawk’s head. She pointed the head of the hawk at Mumei and lashed.

“Poppycock! There is more to your application than duty to our country, Second Lieutenant. My eyes are sharp, young lady, so answer me honestly.” Sparrowhawk set down her walking cane and asked, “Why are you so eager to go to Vietnam again? Is it because of her again?”

The other four generals crossed their arms and turned to Mumei as well, waiting for her answer. Despite their curious gazes, Mumei managed to wear a confident, knowing smile and gave her answer.

Second Verse - Hand to Hand, Hand in Hand

Another hour passed before Mumei’s meeting finally ended. The second lieutenant emerged from the headquarters building, stretched her arms and her legs and breathed in the salty breeze that blew in from San Francisco Bay. In her hands, she held her Commission papers that bore the seal of the Secretary of Defense and the signatures of the four one-star generals of the Presidio’s panel.

The signature of Major General Sparrowhawk, however, was noticeably absent from the document. Mumei eyed the gap between the four signatures and snorted.

I wonder who ruffled her feathers this morning.

Mumei, heaved a sigh, pocketed her commission papers and sauntered past her parked Thunderbird. She carried on down a footpath to the Crissy Field airstrip and descended down the steep hill. Even though it was dark and the standing electric lights were few and far in between, Mumei moved through the path briskly. She traced her steps through those paths as if it were second nature to her, just as she had done many times in the Presidio a few years ago.

When she got closer to the airstrip, more lights illuminated the path. A quintet of UH-1 helicopters were landing on the paved strip and the roundels on their tails caught Mumei’s attention.

Air Force? I didn’t know they’d be visiting the Presidio tonight.

Perhaps they were there to transport the panel of five generals back to their posts, Mumei thought. Her honey brown eyes followed the five helicopters on their descent and she watched the cockpits with quiet anticipation. However it was simply too dark and far away from her to see anything.

With a sigh that fogged up before her eyes, Mumei adjusted her peaked cap and her brown shawl and carried on down the path that ran alongside the airstrip

That path took her to a small nook overlooking San Francisco Bay and the luminous outline of the Golden Gate Bridge. In that nook flanked by shrubbery, Mumei came face to face with the small bronze statue of a young lady that shimmered under the moonlight. Bouquets of flowers, baskets of fruits and snuffed-out candles were set down at the statue’s feet.

Mumei walked over to the statue, took off her peaked cap reverently and let the two owl feathers rise up from her head of brown hair. With her hand and hat over her heart, she read the bronze plaque.

“ Ms. Francine Crissy, granddaughter of Maj. Dana Crissy, mother of the US Army Airborne Combat Brigades (ACB) and Guardian of Civilization of the Tenth Council . (1930-1966) ”

A cryptic smile formed on Mumei’s lips. She reached into a pocket of her officer’s coat, brought out a handful of red berries and added them to the pile of offerings at the statue’s feet. Mumei straightened up and brought out her stamped commission document.

“Salutations, Lady Knowledge.”  Mumei spoke to the statue with greater respect and reverence than the generals on the Presidio panel, “I’ve finally received my commission! The 110th Airborne Combat Brigade - the first ACB to be led by a Second Lieutenant.” She noticed the gap between the four signatures again and heaved a sigh, “If you were still here, I’m sure you would have given Sparrowhawk a piece of your mind.”

While Mumei was conversing with the lifeless statue, a cold breeze blew in from the bay. Her brown hair and the two owl’s feathers that crowned her head were ruffled along with her shawl and her officer’s coat.

This was when she heard a twig snapping behind her.

Mumei paused and fell silent. Her honey brown eyes became sharp and she steadied her foggy breath. She quietly reached for the holster at her hip and felt the outline of her M1911 service pistol. However, when she heard the rest of the approaching footsteps and listened to their timbre, Mumei brought her hand away from her gun and breathed easy.

“It’s not wise to sneak up on me like this.” Mumei spoke without turning her back, “You, of all people should know that, Kronii.”

The person named ‘Kronii’, however, didn’t comment. Instead, she panted heavily and fought hard to catch her breath.

“Mumei…” Kronii finally managed to speak, “I knew you’d be here.”

“Seems like I was the only one who wasn’t told my commission was approved by the SecDef until today.” Mumei aired her grievance, “If you’re here, I’m sure the Air Force already told you about it too.”

Mumei turned around and saw the winded figure of Kronii Ouro, a tall lady who stood a full five inches higher than her. She was clad in a US Air Force jumpsuit and the protective vest for UH-1 “Huey” helicopters. Her long dark-blue hair fluttered in the sea breeze and her blue eyes reflected the moonlight with grave concern.

“Why are you doing this, Mumei?” Kronii demanded, “You already went to Vietnam last year. Why are you so eager to go back!?” She clenched her fists and added, “Lady Knowledge disappeared in 66’! She’s not there anymore!”

“We don’t know that for sure!” Mumei snapped back. She glared at the helicopter pilot for a moment but caught herself before she could spit out more venomous words. Instead, she pointed to the pilot’s sleeve and noted, “Besides, who are you to talk to me about going to ‘Nam! Your unit’s joining MACV in January!”

True enough, the patch on the sleeve of Kronii uniform bore her unit’s new insignia: a tilted hourglass that mirrored helicopter rotors with the number VII at the top and “MACV - VALKYRIES” at the bottom.

Kronii self-consciously held her shoulder, feeling the weight of Mumei’s gaze. A frown then formed on her lips.

“It wasn’t my choice to go.” Kronii clenched her fist and faced Mumei squarely, “You, on the other hand, went to the Presidio and volunteered to go again! Not for some base deployment in Saigon either - but for an ACB!”

This was the second time she had heard this urge for caution. It made her wonder if Kronii had something to do with Maj. Gen. Sparrowhawk’s stiff opposition to her appeal. When that thought crossed her mind, a fuse within her broke.

“Only the ACBs are allowed to patrol and investigate the Demilitarized Zone - the Light Green.” Mumei argued, repeating her argument before the Presidio board, “That’s where Lady Knowledge and the rest of the Tenth Council disappeared.”

“Oh yeah? But that’s where the Horrors started appearing too!” Tears started to form at the sides of Kronii’s eyes, “The DMZ is a hellhole! If the Reds don’t get you, then the Horrors will! A tour with an ACB is basically a death sentence!”

“That’s because only the ACB is brave enough to do what needs to be done!” Mumei growled, saying the helicopter pilot’s name with concentrated venom, “If there is even a sliver of hope that Lady Knowledge is out there, dead or alive, then I want to pursue it.” She crumpled her commission papers in her hand and declared, “Nobody can change my mind. Not the Reds. Not the Horrors. Not even you, Kronii! What are you gonna do about it?”

Kronii frowned, stripped off the protective pilot’s vest and tossed it onto the ground by her feet. She cracked her knuckles and squared off against Mumei.

“I’m gonna knock some sense into you, Mumei, that’s what.”

Mumei scoffed. She took off her brown shawl, her olive-green officer’s coat and her cloth necktie. With a flick of her finger, she unbuttoned the top button of her dress shirt and squared off against Kronii as well.

“What are we to do, Kronii?” Mumei’s eyes shone in the moonlight and she steadied her breath, “It seems diplomacy has failed.”

“Only because you’re always so damn stubborn!” Kronii lashed.

With that, Kronii and Mumei charged at each other and punches started to fly between them. In the heat of the battle, the soldier and the pilot were brought back to the days of their Basic Training as if they had a shared dream. Night turned to day and the two veterans of the Vietnam War were fresh-faced draftees clashing on the Parade Grounds of the Presidio while the rest of their peers watched and egged them on.

Mumei swung her fists and threw strong, aggressive punches that struck Kronii’s sides and jaw. Kronii, on the other hand, countered with methodical punches of her own and used her long legs to kick the owl-girl away. Kronii grabbed Mumei by the collar of her dress shirt, but Mumei buried her shin into the pilot’s stomach.

Kronii’s and Mumei’s panting breaths grew heavier. Sweat formed on their brows and the bruises on their bodies started to accumulate.

Eager for a breakthrough, Mumei headbutted Kronii and attempted to tackle the pilot to the ground. However, Kronii stood her ground and wrestled with the owl-girl.

Just like before, the two of them were evenly matched.

“You’ve gotten… stronger, Kronii.” Mumei grunted and pushed back against the pilot’s strength, “You can take… a beating now.”

“And you learned… to use your legs better!” Kronii grunted too, “But it’s not enough!”

Kronii shifted her weight and managed to get behind Mumei. The pilot then wrapped her arms around the owl-girl and held her firmly in place. Mumei tried to struggle out of the bearhug, but her arms were completely constricted by Kronii.

Wrapped now in Kronii’s arms, Mumei tried to struggle fruitlessly. Restrained by her foe, Mumei felt time fly back to the present day. Sunlight gave way to moonlight and the late summer heat gave way to the early winter chill.

Their shared dream came to an end and their breaths fogged up in the December frost.

“If you were an enemy…” Mumei’s hand probed her opponent’s hip, “I could steal your gun.”

“And I could steal yours.” Kronii countered and tightened her bearhug, “Give up.”

Mumei heaved a long, heavy sigh. She closed her eyes and frowned, “I concede. Now let go.”

“No.” Kronii refused. She kept Mumei trapped in her bear hug, “Before that, I want you to listen to me.”

“Do I have a choice?” Mumei snorted, but she stopped struggling and resigned to letting herself be trapped in Kronii’s arms.

Kronii softened her bearhug and fondly embraced Mumei from behind. She rested her bruised cheek on Mumei’s shoulder and apologized.

“I was going to tell you about my redeployment, Mumei, but I never got the chance.” Kronii explained herself, “Not a lot of people want to be flying helicopters over the DMZ right now, especially with the horrors appearing more often. Seasoned aviators are few and far between.” She paused and took a deep breath, “I made a deal with Maj. Gen. Sparrowhawk to lead the air wings of MACV - on the condition that you would be spared from being called back into service. But then here you are in the Presidio, presenting yourself to the panel I hoped you would avoid.”

So that’s what happened…

“You were worried about me…?” Mumei piped up, hints of tenderness sprouting in her tone.

“O-of course not.” Kronii got flustered.

Mumei took this chance and slipped out of Kronii’s bearhug. She then stood face to face with Kronii under the moonlight and spoke.

“I’m sorry for not telling you about this either, Kronii. It’s just that I’ve had a lot of things on my mind lately.” Mumei’s eyes wandered away from the seas of Kronii’s blue eyes, “Things I wish I could forget. You know how it is.”

“Mumei…”

“So then.” Mumei faced Kronii again, “Are you going to stop me, Kronii? From going to Vietnam a second time?”

“When your mind’s made up like this, I know you won’t listen to me even if I did.” Kronii chuckled, “So instead of stopping you, I want you to promise me one thing.”

“And what would that be?”

“Call me and my unit for Close Air Support any time you’re in a pinch, Mumei. No matter where you are in that forsaken DMZ, I’ll come flying CAS.” Kronii spoke with a tender voice and took Mumei’s hands in hers, “I won’t let the Reds or the Horrors touch even the feathers in your hair. I will protect you.”

Mumei paused and smiled warmly.

“Just like before, huh?” Mumei asked, letting her fingers intertwine with Kronii’s.

“Just like before.” Kronii reassured her, “You won’t be getting rid of me that easily. I’m not letting go of you.”

Mumei’s cheeks flushed red. For once, even in the midst of the December frost, she felt warm. She let go of Kronii’s hands and hugged the pilot this time.

“I’ll hold you to your promise.” While she wrapped the pilot in her arms, she looked up to the taller lady and beamed, “I won’t let go of you either, Kronii.” She closed her eyes and rested her head over Kronii’s heart, listening to the pilot's heartbeat, “I won’t forgive you if you do.”

Epilogue

January 1969, Sunrise

MACV-SOG Command & Control North

Da Nang Airbase, South Vietnam

Second Lieutenant Mumei Nanashi stepped out of the rear of a C-130 Hercules transport plane, clad in simpler basic infantryman fatigues tagged ‘NANASHI’ and pristinely shined combat boots. However, she still kept her brown shawl draped over the fatigues and had her golden R-shaped hairpin on her bangs.

The moment she stepped onto the runway of Da Nang Airbase, her entire body was assaulted by the relentless tropical heat. Despite this, her eagerness didn’t wane in the slightest. With a heavy rucksack filled to the brim with her things in hand, she joined the rest of the passengers of the C-130 to see the quartermaster to get their lodging sorted out.

Most of the grunts were dropped off at large shared tents with bunk beds scattered around the airbase - the same kind that Mumei stayed in during her first tour of duty. That time, however, Mumei was shown to the officers’ barracks near the command post and the mess hall for pilots. She was given a room number scribbled on a scrap of paper before the quartermaster left her to her own devices.

Mumei searched for the room number and eventually found it at the end of the corridor: a double room with two nameplates by the door.

-Room 11-

[2nd Lt. M. Nanashi]

[1st Lt. K. Ouro]

The owl-girl’s jaw dropped. She then heard a familiar voice of the helicopter from the other end of the hall.

“So what do you think, Mumei? Do you like it? It’s not the Grand Hotel in Saigon, but it’ll have to do. Had to pull a few strings with MACV, but it worked out.”

Mumei turned around and saw a tall girl wearing Air Force’s khaki fatigues tagged ‘OURO’ and a pair of aviator glasses that rested on the bridge of her nose. She wore a confident smile and ran a hand proudly through her long, dark-blue hair.

Before the figure could speak again, Mumei dropped her heavy rucksack and ran towards her at full speed. She caught the figure in an embrace and exclaimed, “Kronii!”

Kronii was surprised and her aviator glasses were tilted slightly, but she promptly returned Mumei’s embrace.

“I’m glad to see you again, Mumei. Welcome back to Vietnam.”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Prologue

July 1969, Sunrise

Da Nang Airbase, South Vietnam

MACV HQ Mess Hall

Not long after the reveille bugle played at Da Nang Airbase, the morning broadcast of Army Forces Vietnam (AFVN) radio played over the speakers of the MACV HQ mess hall. Two sergeants were sitting face to face at a table near the heart of the, busy mess hall. The two men halfheartedly poked at their trays of dodgily cooked scrambled eggs and unevenly burnt toast and begrudgingly sipped on their cups of watered down ‘Coffee, Instant Type II’.

Six analog clocks hung from the walls of the mess hall, displaying the local times in Saigon, Manila, Tokyo, San Francisco, New York and London, but the two men didn’t bother to watch the time. One of the two, an air force sergeant wearing the khaki fatigues of the Air Force tagged ‘ANDERSON’, buried his face in his hands and vented to his seatmate.

“I’m telling you, Gibbs. Lt. Ouro is a freaking madlass.” The airman spoke with a southern Alabaman drawl, “We’ve done been flying sorties almost every other day since Jan’ry in the Valkyrie squadron. I dunno what’s gonna break first - our choppers or our bodies!”

“I hear you, man.” The airman’s companion, an army sergeant wearing the olive green fatigues tagged ‘PAUL’, answered with the breezy, laid-back tone of a Californian surfer, “Lt. Nanashi doesn’t give us any slack either, my dude. The 110th’s always on the march ‘cause of her. Anytime MACV has to go to the Light Green, she volunteers the 110th. Like, all the time!”

“They ain’t called the Madwomen of Da Nang for nothing, huh?” Anderson grumbled, considering whether or not he should have another bite of the questionable scrambled eggs. He eventually relented and pointed his fork at Paul, “You know how both of them are vets - and yet they still signed up to get deployed to Nam’?”

“No way, man. That’s crazy! Like, three-eyed monkey crazy!” Paul reacted, dropping his jaw with awe, “ But it sorta makes sense too.”

“Really?” Anderson asked.

Paul nodded.

“Uh-huh.” He folded his arms and looked Anderson in the eye, “The boys in my unit say that Lt. Nanashi has a fixation with berries because their juice looks like blood. But even in combat, she’s just - like - poker faced, man. Like she’s used to the stuff.”

“Lt. Ouro’s like that too, brother.” Anderson mused, “Thunderstorms, explosions or commies don’t scare her none. She just flies through the battlefield like them Valkyries from those old kraut books.”

“It’s not just that either, my dude.” Paul insisted, slamming his hands on the table, shifting their trays loudly, “I heard some dudes talking - saying that Lt. Nanashi and Lt. Ouro know folks from the Tenth Council!”

Before Paul could elaborate his gnarly theory, the busy mess hall fell silent and brisk, firm footsteps filled the void. Those footsteps stopped by their table and chills started to run up Paul’s and Anderson’s spines.

“Sergeant Paul! Sergeant Endy!” The voices of Kronii Ouro and Mumei Nanashi rang in perfect unison.

Sergeants Paul and Anderson rose up from their seats and saluted their commanding officers, cold sweat forming on their brows and the remnants of their unfinished breakfast and coffee still on their lips. Sergeant Anderson was tempted to correct his superior and remind her that his nickname was ‘Andy’ and not ‘Endy’, but the glare from Kronii’s sharp blue eyes made him rethink that decision - and the rest of his life’s choices thus far.

The rest of the soldiers in the mess hall, meanwhile looked on as if the two sergeants were walking corpses.

Once they had the attention of the two sergeants and the rest of the soldiers in the MACV mess hall, Kronii cleared her throat and took charge of the situation.

“The Valkyrie Squadron and the 110th ACB will be conducting a joint operation with the rest of the Brigade at 0800. Have your respective units on standby by 0730.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am!” The two sergeants straightened their backs and kept saluting.

Kronii then approached them and whispered with a cold, frigid voice, “I know you two are jokers, but if I ever hear the two of you gossiping about me, Lt. Nanashi or the Tenth Council again, then the two of you will be cleaning latrines until they’re shiny and clean enough for Lady Knowledge and Lady Janus to be honored to use. Got it!?”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am!” The sergeants repeated, their faces as pale as death.

“Dismissed.” Kronii concluded. She then turned to her companion and urged, “C’mon, Mumei. Let’s get going too.”

With that, Mumei and Kronii left Sergeants Paul and Anderson speechless in the mess hall.

“Kronii…” Mumei pouted at first, “I wanted to give those two a piece of my mind too, you know.” She then mellowed down and wore a small smile, “But you took the words right out of my mouth. Thanks for protecting Lady Knowledge’s and Lady Janus’ honor.”

The owl-girl affectionately brushed her arm against Kronii’s while they walked, but Kronii suddenly got flustered. Her cheeks flushed red and she suddenly found herself at a loss for words.

“M-Mumei…” The normally well-spoken, charismatic Kronii stammered, “N-not in public, okay? I’m still your superior officer here in Da Nang!” She took a moment to clear her throat and added, “Plus, we have to prepare for the upcoming mission too.”

“Okay.” Mumei complied obediently, but she kept her eyes on Kronii to ask, “Will you be watching over me again today?”

“Always, Mumei.” Kronii reassured, “Always.”

With that, Mumei and Kronii stepped out of the main MACV building. They put on matching aviator shades and marched onto the pavement of Da Nang Airbase, eagerly facing the rising sun.

The Feathers In Your Hair

Ride of the Valkyries

First Verse - Overture

The sun rose over the jungles of the Vietnamese Demilitarized Zone, baking the lush green canopies of trees with midsummer heat. Over that hot, humid horizon, a large formation of helicopters flew close to the treeline: a flight of four Bell AH-1 Cobra attack helicopters flying ahead of a squadron of UH-1 Huey combat utility transport helicopters.

First Lieutenant Kronii Ouro flew the foremost Cobra and sat in the rear pilot’s seat of the two-person cockpit. Kronii’s steady hands held the main control stick and her feet pumped on the floor pedals, guiding her Cobra to lead the entire formation. Kronii glanced over her panel and saw her adjutant, Sergeant “Endy” Anderson, seated in front of her at the gunner’s seat. Endy carefully inspected the panel of controls before him and kept an eye out on the jungles below.

“We’ve flown over the Light Green so many times, ma’am, but it never gets easier.” Endy admitted, his eyes still scanning the sea of trees.

“Trust in my command and we’ll make it through, sergeant.” Kronii reassured, “I don’t want to be here either, Endy.”

Kronii paused. Her eyes wandered to a small, faded photograph taped to the side of her cockpit panel instruments. It was a picture of her younger self holding hands with a younger Mumei at Crissy Field. Standing behind them were the smiling figures of their beloved mentors: Lady Janus and Lady Knowledge.

The Warden of Time and the Guardian of Civilization of the Tenth Council.

We looked like a family having a picnic.

Kronii traced the side of Mumei’s smiling face in the picture longingly.

Will she ever smile like that again? I wonder...

While Kronii was lost in her thoughts, the faint sound of radio static crackled in her earpiece. Suddenly, Sgt. Endy raised his voice.

“Lieutenant Ouro, ma’am!” Endy urged, “It’s the Commander! Major Omega! She’s pissed!”

Kronii snapped out of her daze and hastily switched on her radio receiver.

“Valkyrie One, report in! First Lieutenant Ouro! Over!” A frustrated voice barked through the radio, causing Kronii to wince.

“I’m sorry, Major Omega! Valkyrie One, reporting in. Over.” Kronii answered sheepishly.

An audible sigh filled the dead air of the radio before their commander, Major Omega, gave a stern warning.

“You shall refer to me by my callsign, Oak Leaf. Is that understood, Valkyrie One? Over.”

Kronii frowned but obediently complied.

“Understood, Oak Leaf. Over.”

Now that Kronii was back in the loop, Major Omega debriefed her forces about the nature of their mission that morning.

Less than a week ago, spy planes and scout helicopters spotted a North Vietnamese supply base along the northern banks of the Ben Hai river. It was determined that the base was too close for comfort, so Maj. Gen. Sparrowhawk authorized an airmobile assault to demolish the base with extreme prejudice.

“Raven’s 88th ACB will go in through the front door across the river at Foxtrot-9. Blue Jay’s 102nd will strike from the left flank at Golf-7 and Barn Owl’s 110th will strike from the right at Hotel-11. Valkyrie One’s squadron will give us Close Air Support and kick open the door for us. Understood?”

“Ma’am yes, ma’am!” Kronii answered over the radio. The rest of their colleagues followed suit.

“Alright, let’s get this job done! Strike hard and fast and we’ll get back home in time for lunch!” Major Omega’s enthusiasm grew, “Over and out!”

Second Verse - Birds Of War

Mere minutes after Major Omega’s briefing, Kronii’s Cobra flew over a clearing near the banks of the Ben Hai river. Just as their intel suggested, there was a small North Vietnamese supply base. There were no North Vietnamese flags flying from a pole, but there were wooden barricades and bamboo-clad earthwork fortifications fitted with Soviet-made heavy machine guns.

“I have visual, ma’am!” Sgt. Endy reported, “Awaiting your orders!”

One by one, the pilots of the other Cobras called in to Kronii over the radio and reported in as well. Kronii flicked on her radio transmitter and gave her command.

“All elements of the Valkyrie Squadron, open fire! Over and out!”

As soon as she said this, Sgt. Endy trained the miniguns of the Cobra turret and peppered the North Vietnamese position with gunfire. The other three Cobras joined in and followed suit. Together, the Valkyrie squadron mowed down North Vietnamese soldiers before they could reach their gun emplacements.

One of the soldiers managed to sprint past the hail of gunfire and reach a heavy machine gun. He pointed the gun at Kronii’s Cobra and prepared to fire.

Kronii’s heart raced and sweat started to form on her brow, but she managed to maintain her composure. She moved her Cobra to face the machine gun emplacement, flicked open the plastic shield over a red button on the main control stick and pressed down on the button twice.

Two pairs of rockets shot out from the wing stubs of the Cobra and struck the machine gun emplacement, annihilating the machine gun and the soldier behind it in a ball of flame. The rest of the Cobras of Kronii’s Valkyries made short work of the other machine gun emplacements around the supply base.

In a few short minutes, soldiers from the 88th and 102nd ACBs joined the fray and gunned down the wavering North Vietnamese defenders. Despite all of the heavy losses, however, the North Vietnamese stubbornly held on and fought back against the strike force.

It was at this time that Kronii heard a familiar voice on the radio.

“This is Barn Owl. The Landing Zone at Hotel-11 is too hot. There are entrenched North Vietnamese positions and armored units. Requesting Close Air Support, over.”

Armored units? In the Demilitarized Zone? That wasn’t in the intel.

Kronii furrowed her brow and flicked her radio transmitter again.

“Copy that, Barn Owl. Valkyrie One, moving to support. Over.”

With that call, Kronii shifted her main control stick and moved her Cobra towards the coordinates Hotel-11. The four Hueys of the 110th ACB were keeping their distance from their designated landing zone. From her cockpit, Kronii could see Mumei manning the door gun of the foremost Huey.

Even though the North Vietnamese tanks and machine guns threatened to tear the Hueys apart, Mumei dared to shoot back at them with reckless abandon.

Damn it, Mumei. Don’t stick your neck out like this too much!

Kronii clicked her tongue and barked to her gunner, “Endy! Suppressing fire!”

“Roger that, ma’am!”

Endy trained the twin miniguns towards the North Vietnamese position and sprayed them with bullets. Kronii, likewise, held down her red button and showered the position with every single rocket in her Cobra’s pods.

A myriad of explosions rocked the North Vietnamese position and the heavy gunfire that pinned down the 110th ACB fell silent. Once the thick black smoke cleared, the smoldering remains of a pair of Soviet-made T-54 tanks and armored troop carriers were revealed.

“This is Barn Owl.” The radio crackled again with Mumei’s voice, “Our Landing Zone at Hotel-11 is clear. Continuing with the operation, over.”

She’s completely unfazed. Just like Lady Knowledge.

Kronii held the main control stick firmly and she took a deep breath.

I promised her that I would protect her…. But I wonder if I will be able to keep up.

She glanced at the photograph by her panel instruments and regarded the smiling face of her mentor.

What would you do in a situation like this, Lady Janus? Were you able to support Lady Knowledge in the end?

Epilogue

Hours later, after the raid of the North Vietnamese supply base in the DMZ ended, Kronii and Mumei were summoned to Major Omega’s office. The two lieutenants stood in attention before their commanding officer, a beautiful lady with long hair, bright gem-like eyes and an androgynous figure accentuated by her khaki trousers, white dress shirt and thin black tie.

Major Omega sat down on a swivel chair and folded her arms - one of which was a mechanical prosthetic - and rhythmically tapped on her elbows, deep in pensive thought.

“Clickety-clackety…” Mumei whispered to Kronii.

Kronii, however, just elbowed Mumei and wordlessly urged her to just keep quiet.

When Major Omega finally gathered her thoughts, she wore a poker face and turned to the two lieutenants again.

“Great work again today, Lt. Ouro. Lt. Nanashi. Thanks to your work, we were able to destroy the North Vietnamese supply base. We managed to gather some valuable intel too, but it will take a while for my Intelligence units to pick through it all.” Major Omega leaned forward, rested her mechanical elbow on her mahogany table and held her face in her mechanical hand, “But high command is concerned by how daring the commies have gotten. Building a supply base that deep in the DMZ is one thing… but bringing armored units en masse into the jungle? Unheard of.” She heaved a sigh, looked at the stack of documents laid on her table and mused, “Either North Vietnam is preparing for a full scale invasion of the South… or the North Vietnamese know something that we don’t.”

When Major Omega mentioned that unknown possibility, Mumei suddenly tensed up.

“Whatever the North Vietnamese throw at us, we will fight, ma’am.” Mumei spoke proudly with her chest puffed up, “Give us the command and the 110th ACB will fight them to the last man.” She glanced at Kronii now with her expectant eyes, “Isn’t that right, Kronii?”

Kronii’s lips twisted, but she gave an affirmative nod.

“I know I can rely on the 110th and the Valkyries when something needs to be done.” Major Omega agreed, but she furrowed her brow, “But your units have been deploying nonstop. Keep pushing them like this and morale will drop.” She gestured wildly with her mechanical hand, “Your weapons and equipment might snap if you overuse them and forget maintenance. Trust me, I know.”

“So, what are you saying, ma’am?” Kronii spoke up this time.

“I’m putting the 110th ACB and the Valkyries on their one-week recreation leave. Your equipment will undergo maintenance too. Effective tonight.”

“What…!?” Mumei gasped.

“Soldiers, like their equipment, need rest too.” Major Omega’s sharp eyes turned to Kronii, “I don’t want my best operators nodding off in the cockpit during a major operation again.”

Kronii blushed with embarrassment. She wanted to shrink away and disappear from that office.

Mumei opened her mouth and wanted to protest, but Major Omega raised up her mechanical hand and spoke with finality.

“Inform your units that you will be on your one-week recreation leave. If you’re lucky, you might get to see the Moon Landing on television in a Saigon hotel.”

“I don’t care about the Moon Landing, Major.” Mumei insisted stubbornly, “I want to know what the North Vietnamese were doing in the DMZ!”

“So do I, Lieutenant Nanashi.” Major Omega raised her voice now, “But my Intelligence team will have to decipher that intel first. They will be done by the time your units get back to Da Nang.” She slammed her mechanical fist on her desk and growled, “I will need your units to be fully prepared for anything and everything, so take your rec leave or I will relieve you of your duties and send you back to San Francisco! Is that understood!?”

Mumei fell silent. The owl-girl clenched her fists, but Kronii laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Understood, ma’am. The Valkyries and the 110th ACB will take their one-week rec leave as you suggested.” Kronii spoke for herself and for the flustered Mumei, “C’mon Mumei. Let’s go.”

The owl-girl furrowed her brow, but gave a forced salute to Major Omega. Kronii saluted the major more respectfully and escorted the fuming Mumei out of the office.

Once she was alone, Major Omega heaved a sigh.

“Man, those two are a handful…” Omega grumbled, “Why did Sparrowhawk offload these problem children to me?” Her eyes wandered over to the grandfather clock in her office, “At least Lt. Ouro can keep a leash on her.”

Major Omega read the hands of the clock and rose up from her desk. She turned on a small radio by the window, tuned in to the AVFN station and looked up to the blue skies above Da Nang Airbase while she listened to the radio. It was a direct broadcast from NASA's Kennedy Space Center's mission control.

“ Ignition sequence starts. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Zero. All engines running. Liftoff! We have a liftoff! Thirty-two minutes past the hour. Liftoff on Apollo 11. ”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Prologue

July 20, 1969 - Past Midnight

Saigon, South Vietnam

The Grand Hotel

A large crowd gathered at the lobby of Saigon’s Grand Hotel at the dead of night. Americans and South Vietnamese, men and women, hotel staff, guests and bystanders alike all huddled together around the lobby’s one black and white television set.  Among them were the indifferent honey brown eyes of Army 2nd Lt. Mumei Nanashi and the entranced blue eyes of Air Force 1st Lt. Kronii Ouro. The two lieutenants, still a few days into their recreation leave, were wearing casual civilian clothes that blended in with the Saigon crowd.

Only the passports and military documents in their pockets and the concealed-carry M1911 service pistols holstered at their hips differentiated them as American GI’s.

“Kronii, it’s 3AM.” Mumei whispered, “I want to go back to the room.”

Her words, however, didn’t seem to register at all in Kronii’s mind. The Air Force lieutenant had her eyes glued to the television screen like the rest of the crowd.

Is this stuff really that interesting?

Mumei heaved a sigh and decided to soldier on and watch the TV program beside Kronii.

Even in that ungodly hour, all eyes in the lobby were wide open and were glued to the black and white screen. On that fuzzy, crackling screen, a major American news network was broadcasting the most bizarre footage.

Footage from the surface of the moon.

Neil Armstrong, the flight commander of the Apollo 11 mission, was stepping out of the lunar lander wearing his bulky yet state-of-the-art space suit in real time, albeit with a few seconds of delay for Saigon. The news anchors covering the historic moment, the radio chatter from the Mission Control Center and the dozens of folks crammed into the Grand Hotel lobby all fell silent.

Then, came the memorable, albeit scuffed words that would ignite a generation.

“One small step for man. One giant leap for mankind.”

The Grand Hotel lobby erupted with cheer. Every ounce of anticipation bottled up in that room burst out like champagne corks. People started singing, dancing and cheering all around the place. Even Kronii was leaping up and down, energized by the whole affair.

Mumei, on the other hand, remained silent. While everyone else was lost in their own little world, her golden brown eyes were still glued to the television screen.

The pinnacle of Civilization, huh? I wonder what Lady Knowledge would have said about this?

Before long, the enthusiastic crowds started to disperse. Hotel staff got back to work, guests eased back into their chatter and routines and bystanders were shooed out by the guards. Mumei was about to try and talk to Kronii and, perhaps, drag her back into their hotel room when she heard a voice coming from behind her.

“You didn’t enjoy the show, 2nd Lt. Nanashi?”

Mumei’s eyes sharpened and she whirled around in a hurry. Kronii, too, snapped out of the waning euphoria and turned around as well.

“Major General Sparrowhawk…?” The name escaped Mumei’s lips, but it tasted bitter in her mouth. She frowned and demanded, “What are you doing here?”

Kronii, meanwhile, was dumbstruck by the presence of the two-star general. She looked like a malfunctioning robot attempting and failing to salute the Major General, but Sparrowhawk shook her head.

“At ease, lieutenants. No need to salute me.” Sparrowhawk reassured Kronii. She ran a hand through her long black, purple-streaked hair and turned to Mumei to answer, “I’m on recreational leave, just like you two. We’re just ladies taking in the sights and sounds of beautiful Saigon.” She then gave Mumei a wink, “I’m also in charge of Major Omega’s Intelligence unit - her superior’s superior, so to speak. We’re analyzing the intel your units got from the DMZ.”

“Did something come up?” Mumei spoke impatiently.

Sparrowhawk shrugged, “If something did, I wouldn’t be discussing it with junior officers in the middle of a busy Saigon hotel.” Her sharp, bright red eyes scanned through the lobby and she whispered, “You never know who would be listening.” She straightened up her posture and managed to wear a confident smile, “So instead, before I get out of your hair, let me tell you this.”

The Major General faced the two lieutenants and spoke with firm resolve.

“The United States government has plans in place for catastrophic events of national interest. Whether it be the failure of Apollo 11 to return home…” She laid a hand on Mumei’s and Kronii’s shoulders, “Or the disappearance of the Tenth Council.” Sparrowhawk patted their shoulders again and winked, “Trust in the process, ladies, and keep reaching for the stars. Have a good evening.”

Moonlight flowed in through the skylight of the Saigon Grand Hotel and Major General Sparrowhawk walked away from her subordinates. Mumei, on the other hand, lowered her head and clenched her fists with displeasure.

Kronii, on the other hand, looked on with a frown on her lips.

The Feathers In Your Hair

Space Oddity

First Verse - Protein Pills? No, Meat Pies!

That same evening, far above the earth, another conversation was taking place.

In space.

Within the confines of a space capsule dubbed the Rescue Module Crow , a female astronaut huddled close to the communications console. The astronaut was a towering, tall lady with smooth tanned skin, bright golden eyes and long, straight blond hair tied back into a single ponytail. She wore the white Apollo-class space suit with her surname tagged on her chest reading ‘TSUKUMO’. Her helmet was off and she spoke with a twangy Australian accent while she gave her wide-eyed ramble.

“You see, Houston. The universe is beautiful. Beauty is an experience - and the universe is something being experienced by us humans: conscious meat pies from a blue continental planet floating in space. But we’re not just any meat pies, no, no! We flourished and kerfuffled and became sentient! We sought out and endeavoured for the beauty of space and went - WOW, GEE, THAT’S BEAUTIFUL! And in order for us humans to experience this beauty, it is important to have proper sustenance!”

A heavy groan answered the astronaut’s ramble over the radio, followed by an exhausted reprimand straight from Mission Control Center in Houston, Texas.

“ I don’t know what in the world you were going on just about now, Astronaut Tsukumo, but that doesn’t explain why you smuggled an entire meat pie into the Crow spacecraft. ”

“Because meat pies are delicious, Houston!” The astronaut argued brightly.

“ You do realize that we had a Congressional hearing here in America because the astronauts on the Gemini 3 mission smuggled a corned beef sandwich on their spacecraft. ”

“Well, this isn’t a corned beef sandwich. It’s a meat pie!” Tsukumo argued again, taking the vacuum-sealed savory pastry out of her stowage space, “Mr. Armstrong and Mr. Aldrin thought it was pretty good!”

At this point, the Mission Control operator decided that he was fighting a losing battle against Tsukumo’s inexhaustible cheer.

“ You know what, you can do whatever you want, Astronaut Tsukumo. Just be careful with the crumbs. The flight of the Crow is not officially sanctioned after all. This is a secret mission hidden from the public eye, so this conversation of ours never took place. Officially. ”

“Don’t worry, Houston. I know the drill.” Tsukumo spoke a little more somberly, but she maintained her smile, “I won’t be getting the same media attention that the Apollo 11 boys will, but I know what I signed up for.”

“ Indeed. The mission of the Crow is to rescue the Columbia module in case the module has a catastrophic failure. ”

The astronaut looked away from the communication module and saw the four seats in the Crow’s cockpit. Three of the seats were, at that point, empty. Tsukumo and Mission Control both hoped that it would stay that way - and that the Crow’s services wouldn't be needed at all.

“Nobody in NASA ever thought that a mere art school student from Australia would be called to pilot this vehicle, but you proved yourself in astronaut training and passed with flying colors. Maj. Gen. Sparrowhawk took a chance on you too. So, perform your duties as you trained and fulfill your mission, Sana Tsukumo. ”

“Will do, Houston. I’m already honoured to be up here in space.”

With that, the communication module switched off and Astronaut Sana Tsukumo’s daily report to Mission Control was concluded. Sana heaved a sigh and then proceeded to eat her days-old, personal-sized meat pie, but she took care to keep the crumbs from flying out.

Golly, that stuff’s delicious! Much better than the protein tubes.

Sana washed down the meat pie by taking a sip from one of her trusty NASA-issued plastic water packets. A tiny droplet of residual water from the packet’s spigot rose up from the packet before Sana’s eyes and took the shape of a sphere.

Just like the oceans of our blue, blue earth.

She hummed a happy tune, ate up the small water blob and licked her lips with gusto. Finished with her meal, stowed away her meal and brought out a sketch pad and a pencil instead. She then looked out one of the Crow ’s windows onto the placid scene of outer space.

I wonder what I’ll draw today?

Her bright golden eyes scanned through the small window into the cosmos and searched for her muse that day. Sana’s mind wandered while she gazed out into the vast unknown and  her imagination went wild.

Then, for a brief moment, Sana thought she saw something in the far distance but she couldn’t discern the shape that she took. She tried to look for that presence and squinted to scrub through every ounce of detail she could get, but the presence had disappeared.

All she knew was that in that moment, from the vast outer reaches of space, the presence was looking straight at her.

Something like a three-legged crow in a sea of stars.

Second Verse - Freefall

A few days after Sana’s one sided encounter, Mission Control contacted her again. Apparently, even after a series of mishaps, the Command Module Columbia completed its mission and was en route to re-enter the Earth. That meant that the Rescue Module Crow’s vigilant watch had come to an end as well.

Sana manned the controls, following the meticulous instructions from Mission Control and ignited the Crow’s thrusters. That maneuver brought the module away from outer space and set the Crow on a course back to re-enter the Earth. Sana stole a glance of the cosmos through the window and whispered as if she was speaking to the universe itself.

“I’ll be back. I promise.”

“ Did you say something, Astronaut Tsukumo? ”

“N-nothing, Houston. I’m prepared for the next phase of re-entry.”

Sana brought her longing eyes away from the window and returned her attention to the Crow’s controls. Over the next forty-eight hours, Sana and Mission Control kept in close contact and went over every minute detail of the re-entry process.

“ The Crow is on course to re-enter the earth and have a nighttime splashdown at 0400 near Naval Station Subic Bay. RPS Datu Kalantiaw, flagship of the Philippine Navy, will lead the recovery effort, but elements of the USAF will be on standby from Clark. Be prepared for rough seas and hot weather, Astronaut Tsukumo .”

“Don’t worry, Houston. Us Aussies are used to crazy weather.” Sana reassured, still cheerful despite the frantic rush at the controls, “A little tropical humidity won’t bother me!”

While Sana spoke, the Crow accelerated its descent towards the earth. Almost in the blink of an eye, the capsule seemed like it was engulfed in flames and its heat shield was tested by the atmosphere. Sana held onto her seat, leaned back into the cushions and closed her eyes while the entire Crow seemed to rattle like a child’s toy.

Before long, the crow decelerated and began hurtling towards the Pacific Ocean. The aerodynamic heat dissipated and Mission Control gave its next command.

“ Deploy the parachutes on my mark. ”

Sana opened her eyes, peeled herself off of her seat and reached for the control panel one more time. She waited until Mission Control gave its mark before she pushed a sequence of buttons. One by one, a triad of parachutes emerged from the top of the Crow capsule and decelerated its descent even further.

However, strong gusts of wind blew against the Crow and its parachutes. In the blink of an eye, one of the three parachutes was punctured but the other two were spared. The Crow’s supposedly controlled descent became anything but controlled. Alarm bells started ringing inside the cockpit and the pull of gravity gripped Sana's entire body.

“H-Houston!?” Sana shouted, holding onto her seat for dear life, “I lost a parachute! What do I do!?”

For a few tense moments, the communications module was silent. Sweat started to form on Sana’s brow and she eyed the device, hoping for more instructions or any bit of good news. She was used to radio silence when she was lounging about in space, but hurtling down into the earth was an entirely different story.

Eventually, after minutes of silence, the control panel’s lights went on again.

“ Astronaut Tsukumo. We have recalculated the trajectory of the Crow’s descent, accounting for the lost parachute and… you won’t be landing near Subic. It’s on course to drop north of the 17th Parallel. Estimates say Hanoi and the environs. ”

“North Vietnam!?” Sana panicked.

“ I was on the phone with Maj. Gen. Sparrowhawk of MACV forces in the region. She says that the North Vietnamese cannot take possession of the Crow at any cost. The Crow will be destroyed by airstrike. Jets from Da Nang Airbase will soon be en route. Disengage the front doors, arm your personal parachute and evacuate the Crow. You have thirty minutes. ”

Sana fell silent. Her beating heart slammed against her chest, but she clenched her fists and urged, “Guide me through the process, Houston. Please.”

The Mission Command operator agreed. He calmly went over the process with the nervous Sana step by step and the novice astronaut complied as best she could. She swiftly shed her heavy white Apollo space suit and traded it for the lightweight harness of an infinitely simpler parachute kit. Then, she disengaged the capsule’s main door and waited for her next instructions which soon came.

“ Five minutes. Open the door on my mark. ”

“W-why can’t I jump out right now?” Sana asked, eyeing the disengaged window.

“ The higher ups don’t want news of a NASA astronaut from a secret mission appearing in South Vietnam right after Apollo 11’s success. They don’t want you to be a North Vietnamese prisoner either. So, you will be aiming to drop within the DMZ. MACV units will be deployed to recover you and take you back into safety quietly, away from the world’s eye. ”

Sana snorted. She was prepared to disappear into the night as a forgotten, unneeded hero, but she didn’t think that it would become such an elaborate and convoluted process.

All this work for college money…?

The tanned astronaut frowned and grabbed her sketchpad from her stowage bin. She stuffed the sketchpad into the bag of her harness and zipped it shut. It was at this time that Mission Control gave its command.

“ Mark! ”

Sana slid open the disengaged door and saw the moonlit jungle of the Vietnamese DMZ sprawling below her. Following the orders of Mission Control, she stepped out of the forsaken capsule and went into freefall in the dead of night. Cold evening wind assaulted her body and made her shiver from head to toe.

While she was falling, she heard the roars of jet engines approaching from south of the border. Faint outlines of a pair of jets drew close and launched missiles at the falling Crow , engulfing it in ferocious balls of fire that illuminated Sana’s horrified face.

Sana shook her head and turned away from the aerial inferno. She yanked on the cords of her harness to deploy her own parachute. Her descent slowed down to a crawl and the cold evening winds were replaced by the hot, sticky air of the Vietnamese jungle.

Third Verse - The Cosmic Crow

“Parachute deployed, Houston. I appear to be heading towards the southern bank of the Ben Hai river.” Sana reported to her earpiece, “My coordinates are… Hotel, uh… eleven? I think. Houston?”

Faint crackles of static answered Sana’s question.

“Houston? Come on, Houston! Your circuit’s breaking up!”

This time, there was no answer from Mission Control. Only silence.

What in the world is going on…!?

While the falling astronaut continued her descent, an entire swathe of the Vietnamese jungle shimmered before Sana’s eyes. Something brilliant like a river of lights replaced the sea of moonlit trees that she was set to crash into.

“Houston… I’m seeing something incredible right now.” Sana reported to her earpiece again, “It’s like… I’m falling back into space!”

Just like before, there was no answer.

Slowly but surely, Sana descended into that shimmering, space-like plane. She could still see the moonlit canopies beneath it and braced herself for impact - but the impact never came. Instead, she slipped right through the canopies completely unhindered and fell through into the strange cosmic void.

It was at this time that Sana realized something - she didn’t have her space suit on anymore! She instinctively held her breath, afraid that she truly had fallen back into space somehow. However, a friendly, albeit disembodied voice, spoke to her straight into her mind.

“ Be not afraid, young one. The universe has heard your plight. You are safe here in Space. Space is your home, after all. So, breathe! ”

Sana, feeling her head grow light, gasped for air. To her surprise, just like the voice said, she was able to breathe normally.

“W-what in the world is going on?” Sana asked.

  “ You are larger, much grander than what your terrestrial superiors give you credit for. You are a child of Space… just like Lady Cosmo before you. ”

The voice was soothing and friendly, but it spoke with an air of grandeur that kept Sana on edge.

“W-who are you…!?” Sana cautiously asked.

When Sana said this, a constellation of lights like stars appeared in the void. That myriad of light illuminated the outline of a large crow-like figure with three legs. The cosmic crow turned to Sana and gave its answer.

“ I am the presence you saw in Space, young one. I go by many names, but you can call me ‘Yatagarasu’. ”

Epilogue

July 24, 1969, Before Dawn

Da Nang Airbase, South Vietnam

MACV Administrative Building

In the office of Major Omega, the major was reading through her stack of intelligence documents while she sipped on a cup of stale, long-cold coffee. She rubbed her forehead with her mechanical prosthetic hand and grumbled.

“Things are just getting worse and worse each day.”

It was at this time that the red telephone on her mahogany desk ran. Omega grumbled, set aside her papers and picked up the receiver.

“Major Omega, MACV, speaking.”

Omega held the phone to her ear and the frown on her lips grew more and more sour. Every so often, she nodded and gave short answers.

‘Yes ma’am.’

‘No ma’am.’

‘Of course ma’am.’

‘I’ll get right on it, ma’am.’

Minutes later, Omega returned the phone to its hook and heaved a long, heavy sigh. She bit her lip and growled before she picked up the phone again. The major frantically spun the dial ring and tapped on her desk with her mechanical hand. As soon as someone answered on the other end, she spoke firmly.

“This is Major Omega of MACV. Get me the Australian 6th Battalion HQ on the line. NOW.”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Prologue

July 26, 1969 - Unknown Time

Vietnamese Demilitarized Zone

Somewhere beneath sector Hotel-11

In the dark, damp confines of a strange subterranean river cave, Captain Baelz “Bae” Hakos of the Australian 6th Infantry Battalion stood face to face with a wounded Viet Cong infantryman. Bae had her trusty Browning Hi-Powered pistol pointed at her enemy while the wounded man watched Bae from behind the iron sights of his Tokarev. Only a small flashlight that Bae had tossed aside provided any sort of light and illuminated the two soldiers’ faces.

The VC man eyed Bae’s weapon and spoke Vietnamese, “ Người Úc? ”

He’s asking me if I’m Australian… Did my pistol give it away?

Bae steadied her breath. She listened to the water dripping from the rocky ceiling above and the flow of the subterranean river by her feet. Her bright blue eyes saw the abject fear in the VC man’s eyes. Seeing this, she answered in the affirmative with her rough, heavily accented Vietnamese, “Đúng.”

When Bae said this, the VC man seemed utterly relieved. He then spoke slowly in response, “ Chúng ta không nên đánh nhau. ”

He doesn’t want to fight. Well… neither do I.

“ Tôi đồng ý. ” She answered, agreeing with him earnestly.

Slowly but surely, Bae and the VC man lowered their guns. He then pointed to a path that led deeper into the dark cave and spoke again.

It’s not safe here, he says. We have to get out of here, he says.

Bae nodded, picked up the flashlight that she had tossed away and followed the man’s lead. The two of them kept their pistols drawn, but they were pointed in the same direction.

While the two of them followed the path of the underground river, Captain Hakos wondered how she got into such a strange situation.

The Feathers In Your Hair

Waltzing Matilda

First Verse - It’s A Long Way To Da Nang

Earlier that day, Captain Hakos was travelling north with ‘R’ Company of the 6th Battalion on buses. Bae’s company dubbed themselves the ‘Puckapunyal Brats’. Their destination was the headquarters of the American MACV in Da Nang Airbase, well outside of the Australian contingent’s area of responsibility.

Most of the Brats were not happy with their commanding officer because of it. Bae felt their glares digging into her back like knives from behind throughout the whole trip from Nui Dat to Da Nang.

Bae sat at the front of the bus together with her adjutant, Sergeant Major Philpott, who seemed to be one of the few who wasn’t visibly displeased in their bus. Bae herself wore a large frown on her face, played around with her locks of red hair and grumbled.

“Why did this have to happen to us, Firebutt?” Bae asked her adjutant.

CSM Philpott was unfazed by the bad nickname. After two years of serving under Captain Hakos, he was already used to it. Instead, he cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses and reminded her.

“The RAR committed us to MACV because of what happened in Saigon, ma’am.” He spoke in a matter-of-factly tone, “You got drunk after a tinnie of beer and half at the Grand Hotel, blew a big chunk of our Company’s recreation fund on mahjong, caused a ruckus at a jazz club when they didn’t know Waltzing Matilda and nearly got into a fight with a Second Lieutenant of MACV - one of the Madwomen of Da Nang . All in one night!”

“That was a rhetorical question, Firebutt.” Bae grumbled. The already small Captain seemed to shrink and sink further into her bus seat, “I didn’t want to be reminded of that night.”

“Well, as long as we’re attached to MACV, the Brats won’t let you forget it ma’am.” Philpott spoke honestly, “So I believe we have to get this so-called ‘special mission’ from MACV over and done with as soon as we can. The sooner we get back to our base in Nui Dat, the sooner the boys and girls will forgive you.”

“I guess you’re right, Firebutt.” Bae grumbled and conceded, “I guess you’re right.”

The roar of jet engines, followed by the gusts of wind from multiple helicopters reached Bae’s ears from outside the bus. She looked out the window and saw the sprawling complex of Da Nang Airbase.

Damn, this place is huge.

Their bus went through the roads that cut through the base and came to a halt at the MACV headquarters building. Bae and Philpott reached for their rucksacks stowed above them and stepped out of their bus first. The Captain and her adjutant had only just stepped out onto the pavement when the airbase’s quartermaster rushed out to greet them.

“Captain Baelz Hakos, I presume?” The quartermaster asked.

“In the flesh.” Bae answered.

The quartermaster saluted Bae and spoke, “Well met, Captain Hakos. The base commander wanted me to call you to her office. Follow me please.”

Bae saluted the quartermaster back and then turned to Firebutt, “Get the boys and girls organized. The Americans like to play hardball, after all.”

“Roger that, ma’am.” Philpott saluted his superior.

With that, Bae followed the quartermaster into the MACV headquarters building. She was led to the office of the base commander, a Major Omega. The quartermaster excused himself and left Bae alone with the major.

Bae stood up straight before the base commander and gave her a smart salute, “Captain Baelz Hakos of the 6th Infantry RAR, R-Company, reporting for duty.”

“Well met, Captain Hakos.” Major Omega returned the salute with her mechanical hand, “I’m Major Omega Alpha of MACV, and the base commander for Da Nang. I know you and your unit just arrived… and I’m aware of your circumstances too, but we’re incredibly short staffed here at Da Nang. So I will be putting you to work right away.”

“Understood, ma’am.” Bae answered dutifully, but her curious eyes often wandered to Omega’s mechanical hand. She caught herself staring and stammered, “W-what would you have us do?”

“I’m sure the Australian brass has already told you this, but the raison d’etre of this special mission is top secret.” Omega’s sharp, gemlike eyes pierced Bae’s heart, “Time and operational security are of the essence here. Understand?”

“M-ma’am, yes ma’am.” Bae stammered again. Sweat started forming on her brow, adding to the humidity in the room.

“Company R of the Australian 6th Infantry Battalion will be deploying to the Vietnamese DMZ. On paper, it will be a regular patrol. But in reality, it’s a rescue mission.” Omega folded her arms and spoke sternly, “Your objective will be to search for an Australian astronaut who fell into the DMZ.”

“An Australian astronaut!?” Bae gasped, “I didn’t know Straya’ had one!”

“Officially, Australia doesn’t have an astronaut. Her mission didn’t happen. The same goes for your mission, Captain.” Omega prodded menacingly, “Black Ops, if you will.”

Black Ops!? This wasn’t what I signed up for!

Bae’s lips twisted and she started quaking in her boots. Once again, the small Captain felt like she was shrinking yet again - wondering if she could skitter away from this assignment like a rat. Regardless of Bae’s shaking visage, Omega continued.

“Your unit, the Pukapunyal Brats , were selected for this mission because of your unique skills and experience in the Australian Army.” Omega explained. She stood up from her seat, pulled down a map from the wall and pointed to it with her mechanical hand, “The area of operations will be the Hotel sector. It’s a Light Green zone riddled with Viet Cong tunnels, you see - and tunnels are the expertise of the Brats. After all, the Brats are made up of the shortest enlisted Australian service members in Vietnam - yourself included.”

Major Omega knows about our Tunnel Rat operations? She did her homework. Also… did I just get called short right now!?

Omega tapped on the map again and continued.

“The astronaut’s last transmission to Ground Control relayed that she was in sector Hotel, but communication was cut before they could discern anything else.” The major turned away from the map and slammed her hands on the table now, “Your unit will deploy quietly into sector Hotel and have the following objectives: rescue the astronaut, destroy Viet Cong tunnel networks and gather any and every intel you find in those hellholes. Are we clear?”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am!” Bae squeaked.

“Good. Your operation will begin the moment you step out of the doors of this room. I have also arranged for Australian armored assets to use.” Omega nodded and sat back on her chair, “Once you cross the threshold, we will become strangers that have never met before - and this conversation never happened.” Her gemlike eyes met with Bae’s troubled blue and she concluded, “Dismissed, Captain Hakos.”

Unable to utter a word, Bae saluted Major Omega, turned around and marched out of the room. She closed the door behind her and her legs nearly gave way. Instead, she pressed her back against the door and lowered her head, completely drained of her energy.

Damn, she’s intense. Are all MACV folks like her?

While Bae was fretting about the details of her mission, she heard footsteps approaching her. The Captain turned her eyes to the source of the sound.

“Firebutt?”

“Are you alright, ma’am?” CMS Philpott, her adjutant, spoke with grave concern, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Bae shook her head and reassured Philpott that she was alright.

“Get the Brats ready to move out, Firebutt.” Bae peeled herself off of Major Omega’s door and wore a toothy grin, “We’re going into the Light Green.”

Second Verse - A Crawl In The Light Green

Half an hour later, Bae and the rest of the Brats were riding through the DMZ on a quintet of open-topped Australian M113 armored personnel carriers  and were accompanied by a single supply truck. The so-called ‘bush taxis’ cleared through the thick jungle brush and cut a path through trails that MACV forces had used in the past.

Bae rode in the foremost APC that bore a hastily spray-painted name that read ‘RAT GOD’. The captain hoisted her small body up onto a box of .50 caliber machine gun ammunition and held onto the M2 Browning heavy machine gun. All the while, her vigilant blue eyes scanned through the brush for even the slightest hint of danger.

Eventually, they entered the vast swathe of land in the DMZ marked sector Hotel that straddled the Ben Hai river. From behind the barrel of her heavy machine gun, Bae saw the remains of North Vietnamese T-54 tanks that had all but burned to a crisp.

North Vietnamese armor this deep in the DMZ? And all we get to use are these rusty buckets of an APC.

They reached a fork in the road and the five APCs started splitting up to their designated areas, dividing the company into five platoons. Eventually, the rumble of the other four APCs and the supply truck faded away in the distance and Bae’s platoon carried on alone.

Another half hour would pass before Bae’s APC reached their destination: Hotel-11.

The ‘Rat God’ APC came to a halt near the first tunnel marked on their map and Bae’s platoon disembarked from their vehicle. Bae then chose the four soldiers who would go with her into the tunnel - the absolute shortest of the Brats. CMS Philpott handed them their equipment: Browning Hi-Power pistols, combat knives, handheld flashlights, combat rations and a one-way radio microphone wire linked to the APC’s communications module.

“Remember folks, report anything and everything that you see.” Philpott reminded the tunnel rats, “If anything happens down there, we’ll swoop in to rescue you.”

Bae and her grunts nodded and proceeded to slip into the tunnel.

The grunts went in first, followed by Bae herself. All five of them crawled through cramped, muddy spaces that were barely large enough for a single person to fit through. Their smaller statures, however, made it a sliver easier for them to maneuver through the tight space. While that damp and dark space would have made most soldier squeamish, Bae and her grunts were unfazed - almost like they all felt at home burrowing under the earth.

A part of me feels like we were made to become Tunnel Rats like this… but that’s kinda sad, huh?

Slowly but surely the five soldiers crawled through the tunnels and discovered the typical layout for a VC tunnel - labyrinthine, serpentine paths with small rooms and impressive ventilation systems and branching paths that snaked through the earth and rock. One by one, Bae’s grunts broke rank to explore the branching paths until Bae was left on her own.

After a few minutes that felt like an eternity, the tunnel branch that Bae was exploring grew wider and wider. Eventually, that tunnel was wide enough for her to stand in. Bae spoke on her radio and dutifully reported what she saw to her adjutant.

While Bae carried on, she felt a sudden tremor rock through the earth below and above her. In the blink of an eye, the soil beneath her feet eroded and Captain Bae screamed.

Shit, shit, SHIT!

Along with the rocks and the mud, Bae descended down, deeper into the unknown. Her one-way radio cable got snagged on a sharp rock and was ripped apart, rendering her communicator useless. Bae herself, aside from the mud that now covered her from head to toe, was thankfully unharmed.

Bae looked up to the hole in the rock ceiling that she fell from and shined her flashlight upon it.

Damn… there’s no way I’ll be able to get up there from here. Where the hell am I anyway?

She shone her light around her and saw that she was no longer in a mere VC tunnel. Bae had stumbled upon a large subterranean cave with an underground river that flowed through it all. Beautiful as the cave was, Bae knew she was stranded in this place - and couldn’t help but feel like she wasn’t alone in that harrowing darkness.

Bae drew her Browning Hi-Power with one hand and kept her flashlight in the other. She kept her guard up and followed the river, hoping that it would lead her out of that place. At the same time, however, Bae couldn’t help but feel moisture building up on her muddy skin. Droplets of condensation fell on her too and each one made the Captain shudder from the unearthly cold.

While Bae’s muddy boots crossed through the rocky crevices, she heard an unsettling noise - the inhuman groan of something, followed by skittering steps across the rocks. Bae dared to shine her flashlight at the source of the sound and her heart sank.

Standing before her, across the subterranean river, was a terrifying creature. Its silhouette was humanlike from afar, but the flashlight revealed its grotesque form: a fleshy hodgepodge of various muscles, eyes, teeth and mouths that was half of Bae’s size.

Holy shit… these damn things really exist! C’mon, Bae. Just like training. You’ve got this.

Bae took aim at the creature with her pistol and cried out despite being alone, “Contact! Type A!”

She shot at the creature’s head and buried three bullets into where it’s brain should have been. The creature, a Type A Horror, wailed like an animal in pain and bled thick black grime that was slick like oil or tar. Bae gritted her teeth and shot the creature again, aiming for where the human heart would have been now.

The creature’s wails grew louder and more desperate and it stumbled onto the ground, writhing in agony. Despite this pathetic state, it still crawled on the ground and lunged at Bae with its bony, disfigured hands.

Bae steadied her breath, tossed her flashlight aside and drew her knife with the poise of a warrior. The flashlight landed on the muddy ground and then shone its light upon the thrashing creature, blinding its many eyes. Once the creature was distracted, Bae slashed the creature’s hands clean off with her knife and she pushed her pistol against its wounded head.

“See ya, punk!” Bae taunted.

She pulled the trigger and the Type A Horror stumbled onto the rocky floor of the cavern, bleeding its black grime like a pool of blood.

Damn, do I have a story to tell the Brats when I get topside.

Before Bae could celebrate, however, she heard another presence appearing from behind her. Still gripped by her combat high, she whirled around and pointed her pistol at the source of the noise.

To her surprise, it was a human.

A soldier of the Viet Cong who pointed his Tokarev pistol at her. Thus began their tense standoff - until Bae disarmed the situation with her words and brokered their uneasy truce.

Third Verse - The Rats and the Snail

Back in the present, Bae and the VC soldier were carefully trekking through the subterranean cave. The both of them carried their pistols but had enough restraint to not point them at each other. Bae shone her flashlight ahead of them and the VC led the way through the vast space.

Soon enough, they arrived at what looked like a base camp of some sort. Remnants of an old campfire was surrounded by tents that were American-made, albeit a few years old. Apparently, this was the place that the VC soldier had taken shelter in.

A small slice of paradise in this damn hellhole, huh?

Bae licked her lips and felt the pang of thirst grip at her body. She had barely had anything to drink since she and the Brats left Nui Dat in the dead of night. Her eyes turned to the subterranean river stream and popped open her water canteen. She was about to top off her canteen with water from the river when the VC stopped her and spoke in Vietnamese.

Boil the water first, he says. Is there something in the water perhaps?

She eyed the VC and saw that he was scratching at his skin every so often with great frustration. That water was definitely tainted with something .

Bae and the VC decided to take a break in the camp. He started a fire in the old campfire pit and started to boil some water in a cast iron pot. Bae, on the other hand, brought out her combat rations and shared some of her food with her enemy-turned-companion: a handful of crackers and a tin can of military-issue cheese spread.

Neither of the two spoke much at first and they ate and drank in silence while the water boiled. All the while, the man kept scratching his arms and his legs.

How long has he been here, perhaps? I’m not going to start itching like that too, am I?

After the two of them had their food and their fill of somewhat purified water, the VC soldier opened up to Bae in Vietnamese. He told her that he was the remnant of a small tank unit that was in the DMZ days ago. He apparently fell into that cave during the frantic retreat after a helicopter destroyed their tanks and had considered surrendering. At the same time, he hoped that he would be put in custody by the Australians since they seemed to be the most reasonable of the pro-Saigon bloc.

The mere fact that he was still alive and sharing a meal with Bae, an Australian tunnel rat, was proof of that, he argued. Bae smiled and answered in Vietnamese, saying that they did, in fact, do things a little differently from the Americans.

With that, Bae and the VC shared a laugh. The VC then excused himself and went to one of the pitched tents in the old campsite. When he returned, he had a peculiar briefcase with him that he handed to Bae.

A briefcase that bore the logo of the infamous Monsanto Company.

Intelligence dossier, he says. He also knows a way out of the cavern too, it seems.  In exchange, he wants asylum in Australia.

Bae told him that immigration policy wasn’t exactly her strong suit, but she promised him that the office of her unit will do its best to aid him and treat him well along the way. The VC smiled back and accepted Bae’s terms.

They shook hands and saw eye to eye.

However, it was at this time that another round of tremors shook the entire cavern. Bae and the VC soldier looked around them. More and more water started dripping from above them and Bae suddenly found it hard to breathe. There was a thick, unpleasant, soap-like odor that threatened to tear through Bae’s lungs.

What the hell is this stuff!?

The VC soldier pulled up the collar of his tattered shirt over his nose and his mouth and urged Bae to do the same. He then gestured to Bae and told her to follow him once again. Bae took the briefcase, bound it to her belt with her broken radio wire, and followed the lead of the VC soldier once more. Together, they trekked through the tunnels and kept their heads low while they wore their shirt collars over most of their faces.

Despite the chaotic tremors, Bae and the VC soldier went down a dark path guided by their lone flashlight. On their way through the escape route, another pair of Type A horrors emerged.

Bae and the VC soldier pointed their guns at the Horrors and opened fire. They emptied their magazines and shots rang out in the cave until the two Horrors stopped moving altogether.

Two guns are better than one, I guess!

The two of them reloaded their guns and carried on through the VC soldier’s path. Eventually, they started seeing spots of faint sunlight from the setting sun pierce through to the cave floor. Moreover, the oppressiveness of the odor waned and it became much easier to breathe. They were nearing the surface!

Unfortunately for them, this was when they came face to face with the very reason why the tremors came to be. A tremendous beast of flesh and bone and limbs  took the form of a behemoth of a slug. Slimy bone-like matter calcified around its back like a slug’s shell while it’s body was a mess of a myriad of human-like body parts with fleshy tendrils that slithered like snakes instead of arms and legs. Moreover, the gigantic beast was dragging along the corpses of the three Type A Horrors that were slain in the caves and was consuming them with one of its many mouths.

It was a Type B Horror!

Bae’s entire body shook, but the VC man was terrified. His voice wavered, but he managed to tell Bae his horrifying insight: he could recognize some of the faces on the Horror’s torso. 

They were the other remnants of the North Vietnamese tank platoon!

Bae gritted her teeth and forced herself to shoot the Horror. Tears started to form at the side of the VC soldier’s irritated eyes, but he too joined in and shot at his former comrades. Shots that landed on the fleshy body drew black grime, just like the Type A horrors, but the fleshy tendrils swatted away some of the shots with unbelievable skill and reflex.

Moreover, some of the mouths on the creature spoke gibberish - almost as if it was trying to communicate.

All of the sudden, tendrils shot out from within the calcified shell and flew towards the two soldiers. Bae reflexively drew her knife and cut down the tendrils that tried to snag her. The wounded VC soldier, however, was not as lucky.

Fleshy tendrils grabbed the wounded man and dragged him to one of the Type B horror’s many mouths. Bae yelled at the VC soldier, telling him that he would save her. To Bae’s surprise, though, the soldier shook his head.

Instead, he reached into his meager kit with his free hand, brought out a grenade and urged Bae to go on without him. Bae tried to argue with him, but he had already made up his mind.

He pulled the pin, roared at the top of his lungs and closed his eyes shut.

Bae couldn’t dare look at what was about to happen. She gripped her pistol tightly and sprinted down the cave path as quickly as her feet would take her. Then, a loud explosion rocked the cave behind her.

Damn it…

Damn it.

DAMN IT!

The collar of Bae’s shirt slipped off from the bridge of her nose and tears streamed down her cheeks while she ran through the cave.

Alone.

Bae didn’t know how much time passed, but she eventually reached the mouth of a cave in the Vietnamese DMZ. All of the running, the unpleasant fumes and the memories of the horrifying things that she witnessed in the darkness started getting to her head. She felt a spell of dizziness that got worse and worse.

Before long, her legs lost their strength and she stumbled down onto the cave floor. Then, she blacked out.

…

What happened next was a blur to Bae. She remembered hearing the concerned chatter of soldiers in English. Bae felt like she said something out of instinct, but she didn’t know exactly what. Then, what followed were frantic cries of war peppered with the bark of multiple Australian L1A1 Self-Loading Rifles.

A long silence followed that faint memory. Bae felt herself floating in a world of formless white. She felt like she was adrift in some sort of space - somewhere like a river of lights.

Is this the afterlife?

She thought she could see the silhouette of the Viet Cong soldier among the souls in the river, but Bae was never truly able to tell for sure.

Then, she caught a glimpse of a soul running against the flow of the river of light.

It was a soul with crimson hair and a single purple eye, running for her dear life.

Just like her in that god-forsaken cave

Epilogue

The next thing that Bae knew, she was waking up in a soft bed and not the cave floors of sector Hotel-11. Instead of the foul soapy odor, the sterile smell of hospital ammonia filled her nose. She opened her sky blue eyes and saw that she was, indeed, in some sort of medical facility. The American flag hanging on the wall also told her which side of the DMZ she had landed in.

Bae lifted herself off of the bed and saw two figures who were seated beside her: her adjutant CSM Philpott and the base commander Major Omega.

“W-where am I…?” Bae croaked weakly.

“Da Nang Airbase’s main infirmary.” Major Omega spoke plainly, “You were sleeping for three days, Captain Hakos.”

“Three… days?” Bae grumbled.

“Second Platoon found you when they were exploring their last tunnel for the day, ma’am.” Philpott reported, “You were being chased by numerous Type A horrors, but the .50cal machine gun on our APCs and our SLRs made quick work of them. We then had MACV send us a medivac helicopter and brought you here.”

“Were we able… to find that astronaut?” Bae asked.

“Unfortunately, no.” Omega shook her head, “But your unit was able to destroy dozens of miles of VC tunnels.” Her gem-like eyes then sharpened, “And there’s also that dossier of intel that we got. It would have been a major incident if that dossier fell into VC hands. Excellent work.”

Bae lowered her head for a moment. She considered telling Commander Omega about how she got her hands on that dossier in the first place, but she decided to hold her tongue for now. The still-shaken Captain just nodded and accepted Omega’s praise.

However, she couldn’t help but feel like both Philpott and Omega were looking at her with curious intent.

“Uh… is there something on my face?” Bae asked, tilting her head.

“About that…” Philpott averted his gaze, “Not exactly your face, but… I guess you have to see for yourself, ma’am.”

The CSM brought out a small mirror from his kit and turned it around to face Bae. 

In the mirror, Bae saw herself and the myriad of changes that had taken place on her body. While her face and her blue eyes were unchanged, her head of red hair developed white and black streaks. Her mouth was full of unnaturally sharp teeth that looked like hacksaws. Then, sprouting from the top of her head, Bae saw a pair of red rat’s ears. Those rat ears moved around as if they had lives of their own, but they shriveled up when Bae felt scared.

It was almost as if those ears were a part of her now.

Utterly displeased, Bae gasped.

“What the hell happened to me!?”

“We don’t know for sure yet, Captain Hakos.” Omega folded her arms and leaned back into her chair, “My superior, Maj. Gen. Sparrowhawk has pulled some strings, however. A medical expert arrived in Da Nang today to check your situation.”

“A medical expert? Like an army doctor or something?” Bae asked.

“Not exactly.” A new voice reached Bae’s ears.

Bae turned to the source of the sound and she saw a tall, beautiful lady with light green hair and friendly golden eyes. She was wearing a pristine, white laboratory coat with a smart, lime-green necktie and she carried a clipboard stacked with papers.

“Allow me to introduce myself, Captain Hakos.” The newcomer started with a bright, saccharine smile, “My name is Dr. Fauna Ceres - a senior medical officer of the Monsanto Company.”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Prologue

July 20, 1969 - Past Midnight

Saigon, South Vietnam

The Grand Hotel

“Trust in the process, ladies, and keep reaching for the stars. Have a good evening.”

With those words, Major General Sparrowhawk bid farewell to Lieutenants Nanashi and Ouro at the lobby of the Grand Hotel. She turned her back to them and sauntered through the hotel’s gilded, French-made hallways and marble-tiled corridors with a spring in her step. Her beautiful purple cocktail dress accentuated the purple streaks in her long, black hair and shimmered under the bright lights. She drew admiring gazes from everyone she passed by and flashed knowing smiles at her admirers.

Eventually, Sparrowhawk turned a corner and entered a small saloon. Soft renditions of jazz standards were being played on an upright piano while the sharply-dressed guests wined and dined to their hearts’ contents.

Among the patrons of the saloon was a peculiar lady seated at the bar who was just as dolled up as Sparrowhawk herself. That lady had a green dress and shawl that matched her green, shoulder-length hair. She was nursing on a tiny glass of a  green “Hemmingway” absinthe cocktail when she noticed Sparrowhawk enter the room.

“Major General Sparrowhawk.” The lady greeted, raising her green cocktail and gesturing, “You finally made it!”

“Apologies, Dr. Ceres. The entire lobby stopped to watch the Moon Landing. It was just as bad as Saigon’s rush hour.” Sparrowhawk gave a casual, lighthearted salute and sat next to her, “You didn’t watch?”

The lady, Dr. Ceres, shook her head and smiled.

“My interests are entirely terrestrial, Major General. There’s no demand for me or my employer’s products in outer space, after all. At least, not yet.”

“Fair enough.” Sparrowhawk chuckled and flagged down the bartender, asking for a glass of what Dr. Ceres was having. The off-duty general set her elbow on the counter, turned back to the doctor and mused, “Either way, you look chipper for someone who had to be extracted from the DMZ in a hurry.”

“I simply believed in the good working relationship between MACV and my employer, Major General.” Dr. Ceres smiled wryly, “Didn’t you say that the US government has plans for any catastrophic event?”

“But of course.” Sparrowhawk grinned. She reached into her purse, brought out a film canister and handed it to the doctor, “All of your data is there, safe and sound. My subordinate’s top operator is a professional so she watched over that data like a hawk - or should I say an owl. Like her life depended on it.” Sparrowhawk snorted, “In more ways than one, it did.”

“I admire your professionalism.” The doctor pocketed the canister, “Now then, it’s my turn to return the favor. That’s why you called for me, yes?”

The bartender returned to Sparrowhawk with her green cocktail in hand. Sparrowhawk took the drink and traced a finger around the rim of the glass, creating a faint harmonic hum.

“Your employer’s products, I won’t say which ones, have started having some…adverse effects on soldiers under my purview, good doctor.” Sparrowhawk spoke, “Sending these soldiers to army medics might cause a stir with army command and the media. So, I believe someone of your caliber would be more than qualified to treat these soldiers.”

“I see.” Dr. Ceres took a sip of her cocktail, “You want a second, unofficial opinion.” Her golden eyes met with Sparrowhawk’s red, “Something under the table.”

“I couldn’t possibly comment.” Sparrowhawk snickered and raised up her glass, “Cheers, doctor. To health.”

Dr. Ceres raised up her glass as well, “To health.”

Their glasses clinked in the saloon and the two ladies drank their green cocktails in high spirits. Little did Dr. Ceres know that she would be thrown into the fire of chaos so soon.

The Feathers In Your Hair

Bad Moon Rising - The Finale

First Verse - Beyond My Paygrade

July 29, 1969 - Early Morning

Da Nang Airbase, South Vietnam

MACV Infirmary Quarters

Dr. Fauna Ceres, the senior medical officer of the Monsanto Company, entered the MACV clinic with a spring in her step. She was summoned there by a phone call from one of Major General Sparrowhawk’s many aides and she was eager to finally pay off the debt she owed the military. The doctor was well versed in the chemistry of Monsanto herbicides.

In particular, their top-secret herbicide called “Agent Orange”.

A-O.

Armed with her knowledge and expertise, Fauna held her head high and followed the MACV head nurse to her assigned patient. She had been told that the base commander, Major Omega, and the patient’s subordinate CSM Philpott would be there. Naturally, Fauna wanted to put her best foot forward. Perhaps she could have them put in a good word for her with Major General Sparrowhawk.

However, when she entered the clinic room, the patient lying on the clinic bed baffled her.

The patient was an Australian Army Captain named Baelz “Bae” Hakos. Captain Hakos had taken part in Tunnel Rat operations in sector Hotel at the heart of the Vietnamese DMZ. Despite this, there were none of the telltale signs of exposure to Agent Orange.

No difficulty breathing.

No rashes on the skin.

No excessive itchiness.

No bloodshot eyes.

Not yet, at least.

Instead, Captain Hakos seemed to have grown a pair of red-furred rat-like ears above her head. This was the very first time she had seen a creature like this: a rat-morph.

Uuuuu, now I can see why Sparrowhawk wanted something under the table. I’m a chemical biologist, not a zoologist!

Deep inside, however, Fauna felt like neither a chemical biologist nor a zoologist would be able to explain what happened to Captain Hakos.

Regardless, if her company’s products had anything to do with Captain Hakos’ transformation, then she might be in hot water. Theories started to cook up in her head.

Agent Orange doesn’t have that effect on humans. It shouldn’t. Unless…!

“Uh… Doctor?” Major Omega tilted her head, wondering why Fauna was just standing motionless in the doorway.

“Ah, I’m sorry! I had a rough flight in from Saigon.” Fauna apologized profusely. She placed her hands together and asked, “May I have time alone with the patient? Since the patient is awake, I would like to begin my examination right away.”

“With all due respect, Doctor, Captain Hakos is my subordinate.” Major Omega argued, “I have to be here and note down the details of her operation.”

“I am aware, Major Omega.” Fauna reached into the pocket of her lab coat and brought out a letter, “Perhaps this letter will put you at ease.”

Omega read through it and clicked her tongue with displeasure, “Sparrowhawk… signed and sealed. That powertripping two-star bi-”

The Major stopped herself. She snorted and pushed the letter back to Fauna. She then gestured to CSM Philpott to follow her out of the clinic room. That left Dr. Fauna alone with the transformed Captain Hakos.

The Major General really has a lot of sway, huh? It’s good to have friends in high places.

Her eyes glanced at Captain Hakos’ rat ears again, however, and her confidence deflated.

C’mon, Fauna. Get a grip. Your career depends on this!

Fauna slapped both of her cheeks and spurred herself to action. She wore a kindly smile for the Captain and spoke.

“Captain Hakos, could you please tell me about what happened during your mission in the DMZ?”

Bae lowered her eyes and turned away from Fauna, “I don’t think you’d believe me, doc. The things I saw down there made me sick in the stomach.” The Captain winced, “Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up.”

“Are you talking about the Horrors?” Fauna assumed, “If so, then don’t worry. I have studied the cadavers of Type A Horrors as part of my training.” The doctor brought up a seat and sat by Bae’s bedside, “So please, Captain. Tell me everything. The more you tell me, the better I'll be able to help you!”

The patient grumbled for a while before she gave in. She spoke in detail about the mission that her unit, Company R, undertook. Most of the military mumbo jumbo flew over Fauna's head, but she did take note of the location.

Sector Hotel-11.

That was awfully close to the temporary research camp that she was made to set up for experiments, Fauna thought. It was the same place that Sparrowhawk arranged for her extraction just days ago.

Before long, Bae’s story started covering Fauna’s expertise. Fauna could tell from Bae’s account that there were signs of contamination from Agent Orange in the underground river cave - as well as the chemical that Fauna has been experimenting on in the DMZ.

A chemical compound that was supposed to reverse the adverse effects of Monsanto’s arsenal of herbicides.

Agent Gold.

Had this been a regular case of Agent Orange poisoning, Fauna would have passed Captain Hakos’ case back to the MACV medics, walk away from Da Nang scot free and take the first flight out of South Vietnam in a hurry. The more Bae talked about her experience, however, the more certain Fauna got that Agent Gold did leak into the cave.

Fauna had to take care of this personally. She was going to be in Da Nang for the long run.

Second Verse - Unorthodox Methods

Dr. Fauna requested for a battery of examination equipment and the MACV clinic issued them to her quickly - speed that was uncharacteristc of the military’s labyrinthine approval processes and procedures.

Is this because of the Major General too? I wonder…

When Fauna got everything that she asked for from the clinic, she set up a tape recorder and microphone and began her commentary.

“This is Dr. Fauna Ceres, Senior Medical Officer of the Monsanto Company. Employee number R11-810.” Fauna spoke out loud, eyeing the tape recorder from time to time, “My patient is Captain Baelz Hakos of the Royal Australian Regiment, 6th Infantry Battalion.” Her eyes turned to Bae and she continued, “I will begin my physical observation now.”

With that, Fauna had Bae sit upright on a stool and started her thorough examination - a full battery physical. The doctor dutifully recorded everything from her height, weight and three sizes. Then, she would joke around and ask Bae to strip completely - which Bae, wisely, refused to do.

“The subject’s body showed no signs of the usual symptoms of exposure to A-O. Or to A-G.” Fauna continued her vocal record, “But she has developed rat-like ears with red fur that blends in with her natural red hair. Her hair also has minor discoloration - streaks of white and brown.” She had Bae open her mouth and shone a flashlight inside, “Her teeth have also changed - taking on sawlike properties. Surprisingly, she has no issue with speaking or chewing.”

Fauna let Bae close her mouth and she walked around her nervous, seated patient.

“The subject has also developed a thin rat’s tail jutting out from around her tailbone area.” Fauna hummed, “Both the tail and the ears move as if they were truly part of the subject.”

The doctor rubbed her chin with curiosity, then a sly smirk formed on her lips. She approached the nervous Bae from behind and craned her head towards one of the patient’s rat ears.

“Hello~” Fauna whispered softly.

“Eep!” Bae nearly jumped out of her seat. Her rat’s tail and the hairs on her skin all stood up in attention too.

Fauna snickered and calmly reported, “The subject’s rat ears are also capable of hearing. Interesting. Very interesting.”

Bae pouted at the doctor, but Fauna stuck out her tongue and teased her patient.

“Are you done, doc?” Bae furrowed her brow and shielded her barely clothed body from the doctor’s questionable gaze.

“Almost.” Fauna reassured. She went over her requested instruments and brought out a syringe, “Lastly, I will be drawing blood.”

“B-Blood!?” Bae squeaked like a mouse.

“Don’t worry, Captain.” Fauna spoke with a mischievous, almost seductive tone, “I’ll be gentle, I promise. So be a good soldier for me just a little longer, okay?”

Bae’s face went pale white as the doctor’s shadow loomed over her. Then, her scream echoed throughout the entire clinic.

Third Verse - Turbulent Flight

Later that evening, Dr. Fauna marched out of the MACV clinic with a heavy brown briefcase in hand. She slipped into a plain public telephone booth and made an international call. While the phone rang, she twirled the cord around her finger and hummed leisurely. Before long, someone answered her call.

“Good evening - or should I say good afternoon. It’s afternoon there in London, after all.” Fauna chuckled, “I’ve concluded my duties here at Da Nang. I’m bringing blood and tissue samples from the Person of Interest. Hopefully I can look at them more thoroughly at the College’s laboratory.” She heaved a sigh and added, “There’s only so much I can discover with a simple microscope, after all. I need better equipment - and more time. It would be even better if I could have taken Captain Hakos herself with me - but that was where Sparrowhawk wouldn’t budge.”

Fauna listened to the person at the other end of the line and nodded, answering with yeses and no’s from time to time.

“The Agent Gold?” Fauna then hummed, “Oh, the field tests in the DMZ showed that A-G was a dud. It couldn’t effectively counteract the effects of A-O.” Her golden eyes turned to the crates being loaded up the ramp of a military cargo plane, “I’m bringing the entire batch with me to London for disposal. Proper procedure and all.”

The person on the other end of the line spoke again at length. After a while, Fauna smiled.

“Very well. I look forward to seeing you again in London, Chairwoman Lowry.”

Fauna hung up, went out of the phone booth and hurried over to the military cargo plane. The soldiers loading up the plane saluted her and she climbed up the ramp along with the crates of the botched Agent Gold.

She took a seat watching over the crates and stowed away her briefcase with great care. While she was getting seated, she couldn’t help but feel like some of the soldiers, the men and women alike, stole glances of her.

Was it because of her lab coat, perhaps?

Or was it because she was just that attractive?

Either way, Fauna relished in the attention and watched the soldiers load up the rest of the crates onto the plane. Once the cargo bay was full, the tail ramp closed and the plane took off from Da Nang en route to London. During their ascent, however, ferocious flashes of lightning illuminated the cabin through the cargo plane’s small windows.

One by one, the soldiers in the plane turned their attention away from Fauna and they all glanced out the windows. Their jaws were dropped in awe and a myriad of curses escaped their lips.

Curious, Fauna dared to look out the window closest to her seat as well. When she did, she too gasped.

The clouds are on fire.

Over in the horizon, a patch of thick dark clouds crackled with unnatural lightning. With every flash of that lightning, Fauna and the others caught glimpses of something strange.

A cosmic void…

All of the sudden, the patch of dark clouds expanded rapidly to the tempo of the lightning. The pale moon in the heavens turned blood red, spurring the freak weather to cover the entirety of the Vietnamese DMZ. Unnatural clouds and unearthly lightning spilled over the borders and rushed towards Da Nang Airbase and the flying cargo plane.

“Hold onto your seats, everyone. We’re gonna have turbulence - and lots of it!” The cargo plane pilot yelled behind him.

Fauna and the soldiers did as they were told and held onto their seats for dear life. Just as the pilot predicted, the entire plane shook violently. The crates filled with Agent Gold, despite their fastening straps, shifted around in the cargo bay and skidded loudly.

Uuuuu… What is going on!?  

All of a sudden, for a few moments, the turbulence suddenly stopped. Then, gravity seemed to lose its grip. Fauna and the soldiers all started to float above their seats. Even the heavy crates of Agent Gold rose up as far as their restraints would let them.

Fauna’s eyes shot towards the nearest window. Sure enough, the entire plane was floating through the cosmic void. Its four turbo-propeller engines were still humming, but she felt like the plane wasn’t going anywhere.

It was almost as if they had been thrust into Space.

Then, the spell of weightlessness dissipated as quickly as it came. Turbulence rocked the cargo plane once again, returning to the terrestrial realm that it seemed to have slipped out from. Fauna, the soldiers and the crates of Agent Gold were dragged down again by the pull of gravity and the cosmic void in the windows was long gone.

The unnatural clouds and the unearthly thunderstorm had also faded away.

Even the blood red moon was pale white again.

Fauna sank into her seat and slouched over. She couldn’t help but feel like, whatever it was they experienced that night, she and the rest of the folks in the plane barely made it out alive.

She wasn’t keen on finding out what would have happened if they didn’t.

At the same time, Fauna couldn’t help but smell a faint aroma coming from the crates of Agent Gold in the cargo bay.

The aroma of apple blossoms.

Epilogue

Back in Da Nang Airbase, however, Major Omega marched into the command center of the base and demanded to know what was going on. All of the operators on the command center switchboards were frantically transferring a flood of calls, turning the place into a beehive of activity.

All of the sudden, one of the operators stood up from his seat and handed Major Omega a headset.

“Major Omega, ma’am! You have to listen to this!” He urged, “We picked this up during the freak storm.”

Omega took the headset and promptly wore it. Then, she heard a familiar voice.

Astronaut Sana Tsukumo’s last transmission from days ago.

“ Houston… I’m seeing something incredible right now! It’s like… I’m falling back into space! ”

The transmission crackled and cut off, but Omega could tell that Astronaut Sana seemed to be talking to something - and it wasn’t Mission Control.

So, it finally begins.

A bitter frown formed on Omega’s lips and she took over the base’s PA system’s microphone.

“Attention, all MACV combat units in Da Nang Airbase. This is Major Omega. All ACB and air wing officers are to report to MACV HQ in thirty minutes. Prepare your units for immediate deployment. I repeat - all combat units are to prepare for immediate deployment!”

With that, Major Omega marched out of the frantic command center and made a beeline for her office. She slammed the door behind her and locked it firmly - knob and deadbolt.

Omega went over to her small library of books and searched for a peculiar tome: Bakkhos the Mad - The Tragic Last Emperor of Atlantis (1901) . She pulled the book from the shelf and whispered something beneath her breath.

All of the sudden, the entire bookshelf shifted with a heavy mechanical whir.

Behind the bookshelf, there was a peculiar wall-mounted telephone set that had no connection wires whatsoever. Despite this, when she picked up the receiver, there was a dial tone.

Omega keyed in a code and then spoke with a grim but firm voice.

“The Manipulator is active once more. Requesting permission to begin Operation Eleven.”

-THE END OF THE FEATHERS IN YOUR HAIR-

The Feathers In Your Hair

The Alter Series Interlude

Dramatis Personae

~By Order of Appearance~

Mumei Nanashi (2nd Lt.)

Cecile Sparrowhawk (Maj. Gen.)

Francine Crissy / Lady Knowledge

Kronii Ouro (1st Lt.)

Gibson L. Paul (Sgt.)

"Endy" Anderson (Sgt.)

Lady Janus

Omega Alpha (Maj.)

Sana Tsukumo

Yatagarasu

Baelz Hakos (CAPT)

The Viet Cong Defector

"Firebutt" Philpott (CSM)

Dr. Fauna Ceres

Chairwoman Ophelia Lowry

...

The Alter Series Continues!

Eleven

The Journey of Irys and the Eleventh Council

:|| The Council must not hesitate :||