Greetings dear reader,

After a long "exile," I am making my return (maybe). I haven't decided if I will revisit any of my old stories, though "The Saga Ends" may finally be restarted or rebooted. (Anything to keep the Pre-Sequel Trilogy "Expanded Universe" alive in the hearts and minds of nerds worldwide.) However, to help with getting my writing style "live" again, and to get into the "zone" of a particular genre, I starting a new story. Don't be surprised if I fall off the face of the earth again.

Soter

It goes without saying that I do not own the rights to the wonderful game "Ace Combat 5." This is purely a work of fiction and just for fun. I do own a copy of the game, but my controller is dead, so I cannot play. I hope to rectify that soon.

The Unsung Heroes

~ A tale of the Razgirz ~

By Christoph Sokol

The cursor blinks defiantly at him. After nearly six months of notes, research, digging, and nightmares, he had enough material to complete the story.

Only to have writer's block to set in.

"It shouldn't be this difficult," he tells the computer screen. "It's not like I'm making this up from my own imagination."

Sokol leans back, running his fingers through his cropped brown hair. He stares up at the ceiling. Almost half a year it took him to find everything he needed, and most of it was half a world away and labeled "top secret." His grey eyes narrow, remembering the two hour "explanation" some pencil pushing intel officer in Oured had given him. He also remembered the shock when the clerk heard the authorization code. Two large file boxes arrived the next day, with a polite note of apology from the captain's superior.

A soft sound behind him causes him to stops his record player on the wall shelf to his back. He had found the old musical device abandoned in the apartment when the superintendent showed him the place. The man had apologized profusely, of course, but Sokol was anything but upset by the dilapidated device. In fact, he chose to keep it and restore it.

Sokol glances about his apartment as his hand drifts to under the desk. To his right, the kitchen is empty, as is the small living space to his left. The hallway that connects the living room to the bedroom looks empty as well. There appears to be nothing on the third story balcony behind the the translucent white curtains. Leaning around the corner to his left, he glances at the doorway. No one stands there. All is quiet.

Shrugging, he starts the record player back up and returns to his staring contest with the cursor.

The sound of soft knocking on his front door echoes in his ears again.

Standing up in a huff, he storms out from behind the desk, around the corner, and straight at the door. His target is in sight when another soft knock erupted. Placing one hand on the doorknob, and the other next to his belt, he takes a quick breath and pauses for a heartbeat.

He pulls the blue painted wooden door open, surprising the interrupting individual on the other side.

It wasn't Dmitri, the superintendent, Gregory, the annoying kid who lived next door, or Shmuel, the elderly gentleman downstairs who complained his bedroom ceiling leaked whenever anyone turned on the water. Standing before Sokol is a young woman. She is about his age, but looks younger with her short black hair and midnight blue eyes. She wears a leather jacket with a few worn patches on the arms and a pleated skirt that ends just above her knee. At her feet is a simple green duffle bag. In her hands she holds a book with repaired red binding.

"Hi, Alex."