Terra Kisaragie, a nineteen-year-old Japanese-English student stood amongst the shuffling crowds of Moi International Airport of New Mombasa. Terra’s flight, along with every other, had been grounded. The crowd had gathered below a large screen broadcasting the local news report. A news reporter on the screen was speaking the local language, which Terra couldn’t understand. However, the images on screen, showing a missile hitting a passenger airliner, gave her all the information she needed.

Terra brushed a strand of dyed black hair from her eyes and pushed through the growing crowd until she reached the safety of the terminal’s glass wall, which provided a clear view of the aircraft across Moi’s runways. She clutched a leather satchel that hung around her hip making sure that nothing had been taken; fortunately, the bag’s strap remained securely buckled. She was distracted briefly as a pair of children came rushing past her, laughing and chirping to each other in a language she didn’t recognise. A woman who was presumably a parent called out after the children before returning to her heated discussion down her mobile phone. The terminal was littered with small such incidents; a newlywed couple sat at one of the benches rubbing noses and giggling excitedly much to the displeasure of the overweight man sitting beside them who was desperately trying to lose his thoughts in his newspaper. In an attempt to distract herself, Terra looked out at the runway again; not a single plane was in the air. A couple of large commercial aircraft had been towed to the side and one sat with its engines running, but clearly none of them were going anywhere anytime soon.

Terra’s deep-brown eyes fell upon an unusual sight sitting across the main runway: two small jet aircraft that didn’t match the rest of the large passenger airliners. They were smaller, clearly designed for one person, with sleek surfaces and wide wings. The aircraft were painted a pale grey and were guarded by military-looking personnel on either side.

“F-22 raptors, one of most advanced fighter jets on the planet right now.”

The voice belonged to one of Terra’s classmates, Billy. Billy’s hair was short and brown, and he had a warm smile across his chubby face.

“You think they’re here because of the missile attack?” Terra questioned.

Billy shook his head and shrugged.

“No, those are American planes, they shouldn’t be here at all. Anyway, Professor Marcos called the hotel. It looks like we’re sleeping here tonight.”

Though Terra asked the question she only half listened to the answer. She kept looking out of the window at the two fighter jets. Her gaze switched when she noticed more military vehicles on the runway. She recognised the design from one of her father’s old war movies as a Black Hawk helicopter. In total, three helicopters occupied the runway, they didn’t have any nation’s markings, instead just the letters ‘S.O.O.’

“Hey, Billy?” frowned Terra with concern, still looking at the helicopters. “What do those markings mean?”

Billy took a long look, trying to decipher the letters. After the short, overweight American tried stringing together a few military-sounding words, he gave up. Billy shrugged and the pair decided it would be best to return to the rest of their class.

Fourteen students had all come to visit the new Kenya along with their teacher Professor Marcos. He was an ageing ex-Navy SEAL in his early fifties, and walked with a cane because of an injury from a bullet wound that had ended his career. Or at least that was what the students’ current running theory was, as the teacher refused to let any information slip regarding his military career. He was yelling down a mobile phone at somebody whom the students assumed was from the same hotel they had been staying in over their trip.

Terra sat on the floor in front of one of the few classmates other than Billy that she could actually tolerate. Grace was skinnier and slightly taller than Terra with blonde hair and a sort of girl-next-door look about her that made Terra feel far larger than she actually was.

“Hope you like sleeping on the ground, cos we aren’t getting our beds back,” Grace moaned.

Terra didn’t get a chance to answer as they were interrupted by one of the class jocks, an American football player named Bradley Morrison.

“If we have to start sharing beds, Grace, you and your chubby girlfriend can always bunk with me.”

Grace smiled a little, while Terra rolled her eyes and looked away in disgust, though she subconsciously laid one hand on her stomach.

“Leave them alone, Brad,” Billy called out as he stood up and approached the jock, who was a good foot taller than him. Brad simply laughed. He was taller, broader and could bench-press Billy any day of the week if he so chose.

“You feel like saying that to my face, pipsqueak?”

Billy squared up to Brad moving closer to the massive jock and doing his best to seem tough. Terra stood up and tried to get between the two but was pushed away by Billy.

A few feet away a soldier had been leaning against the glass window curiously watching the students’ exchange. When the jock started squaring up to the chubby kid, he decided enough was enough. He called out in a well-spoken British accent.

“It’s a bit cowardly to pick on someone half your size, don’t you think?”

The soldier was dressed in his smart black uniform. He had no weapons or any of his usual military equipment. His smartness made him look out of place in this environment.

“Sorry to interrupt. I just don’t particularly like seeing anyone get bullied, is all.”

He made an effort to say the words clearly so his accent didn’t confuse the American as he approached.

“What the fuck are you supposed to be?” Brad grunted. He turned to face the young man whom he didn’t realise was a very well-trained soldier.

The soldier came to a halt a few metres from Brad, now satisfied he had pulled the bully’s attention away from the students.

“I’m the guy who’s going to make you look really stupid in front of those girls unless you apologise,” he said with a cocky grin and a wink he gave to Terra.

Terra blushed slightly and tried to look away. But she was both too worried and too curious to see what would happen next to avert her gaze completely. She had an especially difficult time pulling her gaze away from the soldier’s piercing eyes as they locked on to Brad.

“I think he’s military,” she whispered to Grace, who was too busy watching the exchange to pay her any attention.

Brad advanced on the soldier, muttering a curse under his breath. He took a swing at Sharpe who moved under the fist, barged his shoulder into the jock and used his momentum to throw Bradley Morrison over his shoulder and onto the ground with a loud thump that echoed through the terminal. As Brad tried to recover, the soldier dropped on top of the bully and slammed a knee under his chin, holding him in place.

“I’m still waiting for that apology,” he growled as he started to add pressure.

The soldier’s greying superior pushed through the crowd that had started to gather around the two men’s exchange.

“Sharpe!” he bellowed.

Sharpe released his grip on Brad. The bully pulled himself back to his feet and moved to take another swing at Sharpe but stopped himself when he noticed the soldier didn’t even flinch. The defeated bully skulked away to the back of the class. Professor Marcos cut his phone call short and came to see what was causing all the trouble. He met the gaze of the two men in black.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d be seeing you here, Boss!”

Professor Marcos and Boss exchanged a hug and their greetings to each other. The students looked on in bewilderment as the two men excitedly shook each other’s hands as they swapped compliments and questions about what they had been up to over the years. Sharpe stood a few feet away from the two men with his arms crossed. Terra found herself drawn to the young man. She moved over towards him but stopped in her tracks when the soldier looked at her. Terra did her best to stutter out her question as she felt her chest start to feel heavier.

“Uh… I… um, I was just wondering what you’d have done if your boss hadn’t stepped in?”

Sharpe didn’t give her a direct response; he just smiled and extended an open hand.

“Name’s Sharpe, private military contractor.”

Terra cocked her head but accepted his handshake, starting to feel more confident. He didn’t seem so bad. His face now held a smile that she found rather enigmatic.

“Terra Kisaragie, student from Philadelphia.”

She briefly looked into the soldier’s eyes as she spoke. His gaze left her breathing ragged and unsteady; her body tensed up slightly as he spoke.

“Not with that accent you’re not, Miss Kisaragie, you sound more like you’re from my neck of the woods.”

Terra went to say something but her attention was grabbed by Professor Marcos.

“Okay boys and girls, it looks like we’ve been saved. First off let me introduce an old friend of mine. This is Boss; we worked together back when we were in the military. He and his team are running a few security operations in the city following the attack and have some extra rooms at a local hotel for us to stay in. Some of you will have to share but you’ll all have a bed for the next few nights at least. Grab your bags and meet me out the front at 6pm. Until then, do what you want, just don’t cause any trouble.”

The students split off into their various groups and headed in their own directions.

Professor Marcus stayed with the Boss at the airport to meet a few of his soldiers. Terra turned back to Sharpe, while Billy waited nearby, trying to look like he wasn’t keeping an eye on the soldier. Sharpe shot him a brief, curious glance.

“I’m from Luton,” Terra said. Sharpe watched the others separate; he smiled at Terra.

“Do you normally lie when you’re nervous, Miss Kisaragie, or is there more to it than that?”

Terra tensed up again.

“Sorry, people talking about my size unsettles me.”

Sharpe cocked his head and ran his gaze up and down her. Terra was about average height for a woman; she wasn’t the slimmest girl in the group but it would still have been a stretch to say she was overweight.

“I’m not sure why, you look better than the rest of your classmates to me.”

Terra let out the tiniest of gasps as she felt her cheeks burn red. The soldier chuckled.

“Sorry, see you around, Miss Kisaragie.”

Sharpe turned away and started walking back the way he came with his hands in his pockets. Terra let out a long sigh as Billy strolled over.

“Geez, do you want a tissue to wipe up that drool?”

 

***

 

Terra and Billy made their way further into the terminal. It was still early, leaving them plenty of time to themselves. They found an empty bench at the far side of the building. Terra reached into her bag and pulled out a large notebook. She had customised the cover with doodles and drawings of various people, both real and fictional. A small portrait of Audrey Hepburn sat in the bottom left corner, the top right corner was occupied by The Fellowship of the Ring and a long serpent-like dragon slithered its way around her name. She opened the book and began working her way through the pages. She eventually reached a blank page with the title ‘Heroes of Today.’

“Are you seriously working on that now?” Billy condescendingly asked.

Terra ignored him. She twiddled a cheap biro in her fingers. The project had been set for them by Professor Marcos just before the summer break. Terra had no clue of where to begin with this project. The idea was simple: each student had to produce a report on a hero of recent history. More importantly, they had to explain their reasoning for this person being a hero. While the rest of Terra’s class turned to the media and their families to draw up half-arsed reports on why their parents were the real heroes for raising them, Terra wanted something grittier and more original, preferably something happening that not many people were aware of.

“Your old man’s ex-military, right? Just write about him, get him to tell you some story of how he killed a bunch of guys and charged through fire like a real hero,” Billy suggested with just a little too much excitement.

Terra shook her head.

“My dad doesn’t like to talk about his time in the military,” she murmured. “But I guess that’s what happens when you tour Afghanistan.”

She fell silent again, blocking out Billy’s voice and slipping back into her mind. He said something about going to find one of the others, to which Terra gave a short, half-hearted farewell.

Billy thought about trying for a hug but decided it was best not to. Terra waited until a few minutes after he left before she looked up from the page. The airport was beginning to quieten down as those who had places to go went to them, and those who were staying began to settle down. Terra looked over at the window opposite her, drawn to it by a loud, low rumbling noise. The two fighter jets had taxied onto the runway. She also noticed in the distance that there were far more security personnel patrolling the outskirts. Although she couldn’t properly see from this distance, it was very clear that they were armed. Something caught her attention in the corner of her eye. Sharpe was looking out of the window writing something into a small black notepad. He was now wearing an assault vest filled with large rifle magazines and even a few grenades. Sharpe carried his sniper rifle across his back. He also sported a pair of black sunglasses as well as his boonie hat.

Moi Airport was something truly spectacular. The new terminal was gleaming white with barely a speck of dust or dirt anywhere. The view outside was also stunning; just beyond the airport’s gates was a vast and beautifully inviting ocean. But Terra didn’t care much about any of that right now, she was far too invested in the soldier scanning the airfield. It was hard to tell for sure but he didn’t appear to look down as he wrote in his pad.

Sharpe removed the sunglasses and slid them into one of the pouches on his vest.

“I see you, quiet girl,” Sharpe announced.

The soldier slid his notebook into one of his webbing pouches as he moved towards Terra, his presence making Terra’s chest feel weighted.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have disturbed you,” Terra apologised.

Sharpe held up a hand as he sat on the bench beside her, resting his weapon between his legs.

“That seems a little big for security work, isn’t it?” Terra asked.

Sharpe looked down at his rifle; he checked the safety catch and pulled back the weapons bolt, showing Terra the empty chamber above the magazine.

“My company has a pretty open contract with the local government,” he said. “It helps in a way. One sword keeps another in the sheath.”

Terra nodded slowly, still feeling intimidated by the size of the rifle.

“So, you’re a samurai as well as a sniper?” she mocked playfully.

Sharpe chuckled. He moved the weapon over to his side leaning it up against the chair beside him so it was out of Terra’s sight.

“So, what’s a girl from Luton doing with a bunch of Americans in Africa?”

“Oxford,” Terra replied. “My father told me not to trust mercenaries, especially the type trying to get into my pants.”

Sharpe smirked; his smile widened revealing a set of perfect white teeth. Terra couldn’t help but smile slightly herself.

“I’ve never been one for that kind of thing, Miss Kisaragie.”

“Why? You gay or something?” Terra blushed slightly as she realised her words had come out more aggressively than she had intended. The soldier chuckled again.

“No, I’m not. Sorry, Miss Kisaragie, I’ll leave you to your notes.”

Sharpe stood up to leave but Terra grabbed his shirtsleeve to stop him.

“Wait, don’t go!”

Terra blushed again. Her cheeks were beginning to hurt from all the extra blood flow. “I’m sorry, I’m really not very good at all this stuff…”

“What stuff, Miss Kisaragie?” Sharpe said with a wink and a smile.

Terra took the opening; in her mind she sighed with relief. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so drawn to someone of the opposite sex.

“Do you mind if I draw you?”

“Draw me?”

“Well, your eyes specifically.”

She could tell by the look Sharpe gave her that he wasn’t expecting that question. The soldier shifted his body round to face her so that she could get a better view of him.

“That’s perfect!”

Terra decided to use the same page. She swapped her pen for a thin pencil and began shaping the outline of Sharpe’s eye.

“I’m really sorry about this, it’s just… I don’t mean to sound so forward but you have really beautiful eyes!”

Sharpe chuckled but still managed to keep his head steady for Terra to concentrate. She noted his level of control was incredible.

“I’m glad my eyes captivate you, Miss Kisaragie, but what is it about them you like so much?” Sharpe enquired.

“Terra, and it’s a lot of things. They’re piercing, like almost inhuman; you have such deep colour it looks almost unnatural. Oh gosh, sorry, I mean that in a good way. Looking at your eyes is like looking into those of a wolf… good match for a sniper.”

Sharpe’s smile dropped slightly. Terra continued swapping her gaze from his eyes to her pad. She was still finding it very difficult to look away for too long.

“You’re very lucky to have eyes like that,” Terra continued. “They’re a lot more interesting than my muddy brown.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I find a lot of comfort in deep-brown eyes like yours. I can’t help but relax a little more each time I look, it gives me a warm feeling. Safe, I guess would be the word.”

Terra smiled again; she giggled bashfully and looked away from him.

“So, Mr Sharpe, when you’re not in the field what do you do?”

“Sharpe isn’t my real name, you know.”

Terra paused for a moment as she felt a little silly for not catching the soldier’s call sign.

“I spend a lot of my time training. I’m always trying to progress and get better at what I do and when I’m not doing that, I tend to bury my head in a book and forget the rest of the world exists.”

“Would I be right in guessing there are a lot of military stories on your bookshelf?” Terra asked.

“You would, but honestly I’ll read anything from Shakespeare to Game of Thrones.”

Terra excitedly went to ask another question but Sharpe cut her off.

“I’m only on A Storm of Swords though, so no spoilers!”

Terra chuckled and flipped her notebook around to show Sharpe the perfect sketch of his left eye. Above that in cursive letters she had written, ‘The eye of a warrior’.

“That’s incredible! Though I’m not exactly a warrior, I’d just stick with soldier.”

“You don’t fancy yourself as a warrior?”

“No,” Sharpe solemnly replied. “A warrior fights with honour and puts that honour before his life. He looks his enemy in the eye and gives him a chance to fight back. I’ve been blessed with the gift of being able to kill a man from far away with a single bullet. He’d never know I was there. There’s no honour in that.”

Sharpe looked down at her notebook page’s title.

“Heroes project, huh?”

“Mm-hmm!” Terra replied excitedly as she noticed Sharpe’s interest in the title.

“Extra credit project, give a short presentation of someone you consider a hero of today. I thought maybe ‘The Private Military Contractor Sniper’ would make for a good title.”

Sharpe shrugged.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you a second time today. Like I said, there’s not much honour in this line of work.”

“You never hear much about PMCs on the news,” Terra interrupted, “but my dad told me a little about them. Brave men sent into the most hostile environments where it would be too dangerous for regular soldiers to go. It all sounds like something out of a film!”

“That’s a very romanticised version of it,” Sharpe replied. “We spend most of our time running security details for oil workers or fighting off pirates looking to grab tourists for ransom money.”

Terra sighed as she leant forward towards Sharpe, dropping her voice to a lower, more seductive tone, giving the sniper a clearer view of her cleavage. A trick she’d learnt from Grace but never had the guts to use herself.

“You mean you’ve never charged headfirst into the fire to save your comrades?”

Though Terra felt a little embarrassed, her move worked. Sharpe took a hold of his rifle. He tossed the weapon between his hands as the memories came back to him. He let out a long, sad sigh before he spoke.

“It was in my first year of fieldwork… a squad of US marines had ventured too far into hostile territory in Tajikistan and got themselves pinned down in a valley close to the Russian lines. My team and I were sent in to evacuate them.”