Reincarnation: A fight for survival

Chapter 10

You know, I didn't say thank you for saving my life," he began.

She turned away, trying to suppress the smile on her lips.

"I couldn't let such fascinating creatures be lost to the Ra'zorlichs," she countered, slowly turning back toward him as his face drew closer.

"And I didn't say I was sorry for earlier."

"You thought you had lost Galen. You were hurting," she said, fighting a tear welling up in her eye. When she could almost feel his breath upon her, she tried to subtly swallow a growing lump in her throat. "Believe me when I say I understand."

A look of relief swept over his face, his voice low as he whispered, "Then let me thank you."

Perhaps it was his savage nature stimulating the inner beast that prowled within her body. Perhaps it was a weakness for a fallen warrior. Or perhaps it was just supposed to be this way. But when his hand came up to her face, gently cupping her cheek while his lips drew so close to hers, she couldn't resist. Instinct brought her forward to close the space between them and finally bring their lips together.

That single act gave her a spark. A single spark that ignited a fire in her chest that burned away all her urges to say the word, 'stop'. Nothing in her life readied her for it, and she didn't even understand what was happening within the confines of her own body. It was too fast, too sudden. But it felt right.

No explanations could work their way through Michael's mind as his hand reached around and pressed up against her back. This woman stirred that primal part of him that he had been feeding yet denying for so long. Everything about her attracted him: her lush scent ripe in his nose, her soft fur brushing against his skin, that warming purr soothing his ears as his hand glided down her back toward her tail.

"We shouldn't... we shouldn't go further," she whispered, pushing him away.

With a mix of worry and disappointment in his tone, he was quick to ask, "Why not?"

She shook her head and shifted away from him, hugging onto her own body as her eyes fell to the ground. "We have not known each other a day, it is... too soon. We Willhers have rituals, neko traditions that we follow. And there is a presence among us," she whispered as her eyes glanced over to the sleeping Galen. Nervousness became a twitch in her nose, a twitch soon settled as Michael took her hands within his own.

"We are in your world, under your guidance. I will respect your wish," he said, touching his lips to her fingers.

"Thank you," Mila mumbled, her cheeks flushing red under her fur.

With that, Michael gave her a respectful nod and laid back against the pack of a reserve-chute Galen had salvaged. The woman beside him looked nervously aside, tenderly touching the back of her hand to her still tingling lips. She was debating something inside her head, something important as she shifted her gaze back to Michael, staring at him as he got comfortable.

Oh, Necela and sweet Calia, please guide me...

To Michael's surprise, Mila slowly moved in and laid her body up against his own while nestling her head against his neck.

"I thought there were rituals?" he whispered as she got comfortable against him and closed her eyes to sleep.

"There are several rituals before a male can take a female, yes. This is one of them. A night spent in sleep under the eyes of the moon, so our spirits may decide if the match is true."

If the match was true, he repeated in his head. Michael pondered those words a moment, thinking about the weight they carried. If this was a ritual brought up from tradition, then Mila wouldn't be settling for anything casual. If she wanted something, she wanted it for life.

He'd had his share of girls, that series of one-night stands or simple, month-long relationships. As he came closer to the start of his first tour, however, he began facing his reality, and he wanted something more. He had begun to search for someone to write to, for someone to look forward to. But he never seemed to be able to find "the one" who could be his anchor to bring him home. Now it appeared he had just been looking in the wrong place.

"How do our spirits do that, decide the match?" he wondered, mulling over these thoughts and cautiously wrapping an arm around her inviting form.

"The goddess Necela watches all who sleep under her moon," she answered before giving a yawn and adjusting her position. "If a couple's spirit decide the match is true, they receive her in the form of her charm."

"I see..." Michael responded, looking up at the blue rock above him. He had no idea as to the meaning behind what she said, or what it meant. But everything in him yearned for this girl. If she wished for a goddess's blessing before she could fully lo...

All processes stopped in Michael's mind as the word 'love' threw a wrench into his gears. Was it really love? Or just a simple attraction? Or did he really love this... beast of a woman? This neko?

He had been here less than twelve hours, and he was already head-over-heels for the first woman he stumbled upon in this strange world? The sergeant looked down at the soft face pressed against his collar, her warm purrs vibrating against his chest. She wasn't his kind, but that didn't seem to matter to her. It all seemed surreal when he thought about but as he looked back to that moon above, he decided that he would be damned if he didn't take this chance.

Settling in with the warm body against him, he closed his eyes and let the few simple words ring through his mind.

This. Is. Real.

...............................

Black boots marched down a hallway behind the fine-cut suits worn by two official-looking men. These figures stuck out amid the olive drab uniforms of the Army soldiers that walked past them. With their clean faces and stern, determined looks, they drew many curious looks toward them but with mere gazes, the MPs at their backs had any onlookers returning to their tasks at hand.

The two suits neared the end of the long hall and approached two more troops armed with rifles standing guard over a pair of double doors. These men were quick to snap to attention and salute as the black-suited men walked right past them while returning the gesture. Five men occupied that next room, all of them officers who were standing over an operational map of Vietnam. Despite their ranks, however, they all immediately straightened up to address the new arrivals.

"Major Linton?" one of the men said.

The aged soldier stood up a little straighter and pulled down the sides of his dress uniform. He was older than the others in the room, his head covered in salt-and-pepper hair with a single Major leaf on the service cap beside him on the table. The ribbons on his chest were a sight to behold as he crossed his arms and passed a critical gaze over the men who had interrupted his meeting. Both men had short, military-style haircuts and a hard look in their eyes, though their clean suits and pressed ties showed that these men were fresh into the jungle Hell that was Vietnam.

"Yes, I'm Major Linton," the aged man responded, curling his black, bushy mustache.

"I'm Robert Smith. This is my partner, John Smith; no relation. We've come to talk about the plane you lost this morning."

A cross look came over the Major's face. Looking to the other officers he said, "Boys, I need you all to leave the room. Now."

The captains and warrant officer that had been with the Major nodded and headed for the door. Quickly and silently filing past the two agents and giving them suspicious glares. When the last of them had left, Agent Robert Smith turned to the MPs that had been escorting him and his partner and ordered, "Nobody enters until we leave."

The MP gave a prompt, "Yes, sir," and shut the door. When the bolt clicked shut, the two Agents wasted no time in pulling up a seat at the map table.

"You boys are late," Linton grumbled.

"Plane troubles, Major. Please, have a seat and brief us on what you know."

The officer nodded and pulled up a chair for himself opposite the agents. Joining his hands as he leaned in on the table, he cleared his throat and gave the men the moment they needed to ready their notepads. When he received a nod, he started talking. "At oh-six hundred, we launched a surprise attack into a city in south of the border with the elements of the 502ndparachute infantry that I have under my command. The focus of the mission was to secure several HVI's in the area while pushing the North Vietnamese out of the city entirely. However, just as the planes entered their designated drop zone, pilots reported lightning storms filling the sky."

He gave the men a moment to scribble their notes. When their pens stopped moving, he continued. "This weather was deemed impossible, as cloud cover was minimal with no signs of rain or any sudden changes that could account for them. When Charlie Company's craft was hit with flak fire, it started to go down. However, soldiers claimed that the craft was struck by several bolts of lightning at once that caused the craft to vanish."

"Vanish?" Robert repeated, c*****g an eyebrow as he looked up from his notes.

"It's what was written in the eyewitness report. After the plane went down, I sent in the armor support and our reserve force so I could recall as much of C-Company and the key eye-witnesses as possible for their reports on this... event."

"I see..." Robert muttered, adding a few details to his notes before tucking them back into his suit jacket along with his pen. "Major, we need you to confine the primary witnesses to their barracks and order your men to keep this incident under wraps. We also need your forces to secure the area around the craft's last known location so we can send our teams in to investigate."

Linton nodded an affirmative. "Reports say that the NVA are already beginning to pull out. When they go into full retreat, I'll send a few B52s to mop up and an additional force to keep the area on lock down," he said, pointing to the plastic figures on the map representing both the US and Vietnamese units. "But tell me, Agent Smith, are we dealing with Bermuda Triangle s**t?"

Agent John looked over to Agent Robert, the two men sharing a look before the former went back to writing as the latter replied.

"It's what we are trying to find out, Major. You keep your men quiet and secure that area. We will handle the rest."