The torrential downpour of rain smashed against the metal and glass of the lone terminal building at the far corner of the Southern Utah Air Force Base. Mountains surrounded the secure facility on three sides, the lone runway extending out of sight to the north. Once used for the testing of experimental aircraft, the base was now mainly deserted. At least to the cursory glance of anyone who might be passing by and saw the buildings.

The base in actuality was very active, most of its facilities being underground, and therefore hidden from casual view. The two very large and odd-looking aircraft were parked close to each other on the tarmac, three hundred meters from the terminal itself. They were odd shaped aircraft, looking like massive wasps in their design. They had short stubby wings on each side with box shaped pods attached to each wing, their landing gear looking almost like clawed feet rather than wheels. Under the bubble nose of each aircraft was a large wicked looking chain gun of some sort that now sat dormant. Directly behind where the cockpit was on the top of the craft was another small bubble that ran back about six meters from the nose of the craft. Under that bubble could be seen a small map table of some sort and two couches against the wall of the upper deck room.

There were portable lights set up all around the aircraft at roughly a hundred meters distance, illuminating the heavy security that surrounded the two aircraft in an eerie glow. There was a ring of heavily armed guards standing at fifty meter intervals all around the craft, the rain not bothering them at all as they walked slowly along the perimeter, their eyes always trained outward. They were dressed in black fatigues and wore balacavas over their heads, hiding all but their eyes. Their rain drenched gloved hands clutched the silenced weapons they carried, the HK74 which was the newest version of the venerable HK MP5, and fired a devastating 10mm caseless round that was tipped with a pin drop of liquid explosive. There were small one man crane trucks moving large crates on wooden pallets into the bellies of both aircraft, driving up the sloped ramps into the dimly lit interiors of each ship. The security teams around the ships were exceptionally alert, their wicked looking HK74 sub-machine guns equipped with integral silencers and laser sights. The weapons hung from quick action slings, the gloved firing hands of the team members wrapped around the pistol grips, their fingers on the trigger guards. These were not ordinary Air Force security troops. They were perhaps; the most elite and lethal unit in the United States military, and they took nothing for granted.

Several hundred meters outside that inner ring of soldiers were half a dozen heavy gun Hummers. These particular vehicles, heavily armored and mounted with chain gun turrets, manned by equally alert members of the same security force, could destroy targets up to medium size tanks. Far in the distance, they could see the black out lights of another dozen Air Force gun Hummers slowly patrolling the perimeter of the tarmac, gun Hummers that were crewed by the same breed of soldier as the ones closer to the aircraft but assigned to the Air Force’s Special Operations Wing.

The men and women inside the terminal paid no attention to the activity going on outside. They could not have cared less. They wore a mixture of civilian and military dress, and almost all of them had drinks in their hands. They were senior officers in all the services and the junior Senators and aides of the more important men and women gathering at this remote terminal. The work that was going on outside the terminal in the driving rain was below them and not any of their concern.

Except for the tall, heavily muscled young man dressed in Navy whites and standing in front of the large window just outside the lounge. His keen dark brown almost black eyes swept the tarmac below him, seeing the work that was going on three hundred meters from the terminal as if it was happening right outside the window. The young man’s thick black hair was cut short, his skin deeply tanned. He looked like a man who spent most of his time outdoors, and in truth, he was. His uniform bore the three solid gold stripes of a full Navy Commander on his sleeve and his shoulder boards. The uniform fit his muscled form like a glove, as if he had been poured into the uniform. The seven rows of brightly colored ribbons on the left side of his chest were topped by a gleaming gold Navy SEAL “Budweiser” Trident, the official unit designator of the United States Navy SEALS.

Commander Martin Hunter was a unique young man among men, who commanded a unique SEAL team of men and women. All sixty-four of his team members were part of the failed military program to create genetically enhanced soldiers in the early 21st century. In late 2035, a dozen military and civilian scientists, some of the finest minds in gene research, were given the go ahead to put their genetic engineering minds together and begin the Genome Program. Using altered DNA sequences, they were able to breed genetically improved soldiers. These soldiers would have three times the endurance and strength than normal soldiers. They would be able to fight longer and harder than normal men and women without rest. Each of the military branches was given five units of seventy-two genetically enhanced men and women. Martin and his team were the first group to be born and bred from the scientist’s test tubes. They were assigned to the Navy to be raised and schooled. From a very young age, they were trained and schooled in small unit operations and tactics. They were given the finest hand-to-hand combat training believed to exist in the Navy SEALs, all of their instructors being seasoned combat veterans. By the time they were eighteen they had officially been designated SEAL Team 12, and were activated as a unit.

In the course of the next fifteen years, they conducted fifty-nine operations in three separate wars. During that span of time, they suffered only eight members killed in action. They became known as the Team that could not fail. During that time, they earned the respect of every other SEAL Team, and were accepted into the small family of Navy SEALs. They were also the most successful of the Genome units in the military, and drew rave praise from the scientists who created them. The Genome program was a huge success initially, but the scientists never counted on the stresses and horrors of war and constant action. In the eleventh year of active duty existence for the Genomes, the problems began happening.

They began in the Marine units first. The Genomes began to disobey orders and conduct unsanctioned missions. Dozens of them began to mentally snap and go on bloody killing rampages. After three years of trying to determine what the problem was, and hundreds of humiliating and painful experiments, the Genome Program was officially closed, and all the remaining Genomes were secluded for further testing and elimination.

Specially trained teams from the government called “Sweeper” teams were used to eliminate the Genome soldiers determined to be unstable. Only SEAL Team 12 and one unit from the Air Force survived the Genome Purge, as it came to be known. The members of SEAL Team 12 were subjected to countless tests to try to determine why they were different. No instance of mental degradation had occurred within their ranks, and all of their members remained fit and in command of their facilities. The same was found for the Air Force’s unit of Genomes, and again … no reason was ever determined. Since no reason was ever found and the need for their advanced skills and experienced were needed they were returned to active duty. It was only seven months ago that Martin learned that his Team had been selected to be the new Security Force for a new base that was completing activation. This base was in a place none of them had ever been.

EDEN was on the moon.

EDEN was a sprawling base under control of the United States, but allowing many in the International Community to be part of its eight thousand-member crew. SEAL Team 12 was in charge of all security operations on EDEN thanks to a senior Admiral who had worked with Martin during the Central American War, and now was Commander of EDEN.

Martin was thirty-four years old now, his six foot two, two hundred twenty pound frame still just as hard and muscular as when he was eighteen. He bore the scars of five Purple Hearts received during the many missions they had conducted, yet he remained steadfastly loyal to his country and his Team. His genetically enhanced eyes focused on the SEAL closest to the terminal, and he saw his teammate as if he was only a few feet away, though to anyone not looking through enhanced vision devices, they would see only darkness and driving rain.

Martin Hunter had worked hard and long to obtain the status he now held. There had been times over the course of the years when he had questioned who and what he was, for his abilities far outweighed what any of the scientists had envisioned they would, in many more ways than they knew, but those questions had never affected his duties as Team Leader. He looked out for his team, and they looked out for him. He had been told by the man who had created him that the animal DNA that he and two others had been grafted with was that of a wolf, and over the course of the following years Martin had come to consider his SEAL Team his wolf pack, his family unit. He never revealed to anyone that it was he and the two others within his unit that had saved their fellow team members from the Genome Purge. It was something within their blood, something that had changed them even more than what the scientists said it would, and once they realized that Genomes were snapping and going crazy, and that they were not affected by this defect, they agreed to make the rest of their team members like them, in order to save them. Very few individuals outside of his SEAL Team, the man who had raised and created them and their commanding officer knew what he and his people could do, and they worked very hard to keep it that way.

“How goes the loading Chief Roberts?” Martin asked casually, as if he was talking to the window. His eyes however were focused on the senior Chief who stood apart from the others on the tarmac.

The SEAL on the tarmac did not turn at the voice of his commander in his head. All of SEAL team Twelve was equipped with transmitters and receivers implanted just under their skin along their jaw lines and the ridges of their ears. It allowed them to communicate openly and keep their hands free for other matters.

“We’d be done by now if it wasn’t for the fact we had to unseal and repack four crates Skipper.” The man replied.

“Explain.” Martin told him.

“Some tech head basically ignored our instructions on stowing his gear. The crates were not sealed properly. We had to crack them open and repack six thousand pounds of equipment. Mostly research stuff it looked like.” Roberts replied.

“Assigned to whom?” Martin asked.

“Manifest said a Lieutenant Commander Peterson.” Roberts answered. “I’d like to take the young Lieutenant Commander out back and take from his hide what we had to repack. Some of that equipment was pretty advanced Skipper.”

Martin was quiet for a moment, his eyes staring into the darkness. “How much longer until the load out is complete?” He inquired finally.

“Give us another forty minutes Skipper and we’ll be set.”

“You got thirty.” Martin said quickly. “I want to be boarding by 0100. The weather report says this storm will let up by 0300 and I want to be gone before it does.”

Martin saw Roberts nod his head. “Aye, Skipper. We’ll get it done.”

Martin turned when he sensed and smelled the presence of another person behind him. Due to his genetic engineering Martin and the members of his team all possessed an animal acute sense of smell, sight and hearing. In fact all of their known senses were much more acute than the normal human and it made it next to impossible to sneak up on them. It also allowed them to do many things others could not, including tracking individuals by their scent alone over great distances. He turned slowly, knowing only a member of his team could move quiet enough to get this close to him. He smiled when he saw his third in command.

“Sneaking up on me Master Chief?” He asked.

The six foot six Master Chief grinned from ear to ear as he stepped up to Martin, his ebony skin gleaming in the light of the terminal. His bald head reflected the intense light of the florescent fixtures fitted into the ceiling. He had been born three minutes after Martin, coming from the same batch of Genomes that the entire team had been chosen from, and he had been the first that Martin had saved on that moon lit night.

“I don’t think I could do that Skipper, even on my best day. Danny might … but I’m still trying.” He spoke with a grin. He held out the small automatic in the belt holster. “I got her tuned up for you. She’ll knock down a gnat at a hundred yards.”

Martin took the weapon with a nod and slid it around to the small of his back where he lifted his jacket and clipped it to the belt on his pants. He pulled his jacket back down and to the untrained eye; it looked as if nothing was there. “I appreciate it Master Chief.” He spoke.

“That’s what we are for, sir!” He replied chuckling.

Martin looked at the crowd through the doorway. ” You had a chance to mingle?” He asked turning fully to face the large window from which he could view the men and women inside the lounge.

“I checked out the manifests on everyone.” He nodded slowly. “They all seem to check out ok.”

Martin detected the change in the Chief’s tone of voice and looked at him. “They seemed to check out ok?” He asked.

“There are about three dozen men and women. All of them are listed as technicians of some sort. They just don’t fit the profile of a Tech head Skipper.” The Master Chief answered.

“Explain that to me.” Martin asked.

The Master Chief shrugged. “They move like killers, very confident of themselves and their ability to deal with anything. And their eyes give them away as something other than mere technicians.”

Martin met his eyes, “Your opinion Master Chief?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say they were a Sweeper Team Skipper.” The Master Chief replied without hesitation.

Martin’s face did not betray his reaction at hearing that, “A Sweeper team?” He spoke calmly. “Why would someone send a Sweeper Team to EDEN?”

“I don’t know Skipper. I thought they had disbanded all the Sweeper Teams when they restored us to active duty. That’s what they told us anyway.” The Master Chief spoke.

“It would seem that is not the case.” Martin said evenly, trusting that Tony knew exactly what his senses were telling him. “Have someone keep an eye on them Master Chief. Discretely.”

The Master Chief nodded and stepped closer so that his voice would not carry. “You want me to tag them Skipper?”

Martin returned the nod. “And rig their quarters as well Tony. With the new TAP transmitters. I don’t want them found. I want to know why a Sweeper Team is coming to EDEN.”

“You don’t think the Admiral… ?”

Martin shook his head quickly. “No. He wouldn’t request a Sweeper Team be deployed to EDEN. I trust him Master Chief, and he trusts us. He knows what we are and what we can do for the most part and he’s never betrayed us … and he’s always covered our asses.”

“Then who Skipper?”

Martin was about to speak when the noise from the men and women gathered in the lounge grew slightly softer, at least to their enhanced hearing. They turned to see two men and a woman in a Navy uniform come in the opposite door. They knew immediately who the tall middle-aged man, his face was plastered across the evening news almost every night, and he was well known in the political circles of Washington D.C. Martin was still trying to figure out how he managed to wrangle a trip to EDEN.

The Master Chief detected the slight stiffening of Martin’s body when the women came into full view. Tony turned and took a longer look at the young women. Even in the unflattering Navy uniform, she was drop dead gorgeous. She stood about five foot three and looked to be about a hundred and fifteen pounds. Her Persian red hair was shoulder length, longer than Navy regulations allowed, but she had it pulled into a tight ponytail and tied up. She had high regal cheekbones, and soft full red lips. He could see her eyes from across the room, a unique and brilliant gleaming jade green in color; they were unlike any eyes he had seen on a woman before. The color of her eyes highlighted and contrasted with her deeply tanned skin, and the light makeup she wore only accented that contrast. Her uniform could not hide her full, firm breasts and lean muscular legs under the Navy skirt. Her legs were long for someone of her height and as she turned slightly he saw that they connected to a perfectly shaped and muscled ass. She walked with the confidence of a pro and he noticed how most of the men in her immediate area turned to stare at her with lust in their eyes.

“Who is she Skipper?” The Master Chief asked, his eyes still watching her.

“Her name is Anja Peterson.” Martin replied slowly, his voice carrying with it a hint of deep feeling. A note of feeling that was quickly squashed. “Commander Anja Peterson of the Naval Investigative Service.”

The Chief’s head snapped around to look at him. “She’s NIS?” He asked stunned.

Martin Hunter nodded. “Oh yeah, their top operative depending on who you ask. They call her the “Ice Queen”.” Martin spoke, his voice holding something in it that Tony had never heard before. “Remember that intelligence briefing we got last year, the one that listed the operation to eliminate the head of the Russian mafia? SEAL team Seven supported the op and conducted the extraction?”

“Yeah. It was a smooth Operation from what I know. No problems in or out.” The Master Chief replied.

“She’s the one who did the target.” Martin spoke evenly. “I talked with Commander Williams after they returned stateside; it took her four months to get in deep enough to get the target’s attention. When she did … the guy got sloppy, falling all over himself to do what she wanted.”

The Chief looked at Anja from across the small lounge. She carried herself with an almost regal grace, as if she knew she could get anything she wanted. The chief turned back to his officer. “You got to admit boss … looking at her does get your juices to flowing. How could you not want that body next to you in the rack?” The Chief spoke.

Martin grinned knowingly. “She speaks three languages fluently, including Russian. Her mother was Russian. She has a Degree in Biology, and a Master’s in Genetic research. She has used her looks and her body on more than one occasion to secure completion of a mission. And outside of her duties as well, to garner favor with the desk pukes at NIS to move her forward quicker and get her what she wanted for her genetic testing research.”

The Chief looked at Anja again, watching her as she made her way towards them. He saw the males in the room turning to look at her and drink in her sexuality. She knew she was gorgeous and that men wanted her, and she used that knowledge to perfection. The men in the room, including the married ones, would give a years pay for one night with her, and she knew it.

“So why is she coming to EDEN, Skipper?” The Chief asked.

Martin looked at him. “I was told she was coming to evaluate us Chief.” He answered with a smirk. “To make sure SEAL Team Twelve and our genetically improved asses are in ship shape order.”

“What the hell does that mean?” The Chief asked, his face wrinkling up.

“It means that she’s coming here to insure that we are still a stable portion of the US military.” Martin told him. “And that none of us has blown a mental gasket.”

“You serious Skipper?”

“Deadly serious.” Martin spoke, all humor gone from his voice. “The Admiral got wind of this about two months ago. The NIS is unsure if putting our team in charge of EDEN’s security was a good decision. They prodded a few Senators to authorize this investigation. And they put their top agent on it.”

“Commander Peterson?”

Martin nodded with a small smile. “She’s the hatchet man. She’s come to see if we are still stable components of the Navy and if we can be trusted.”

“What a load of shit, Skipper!” The Chief spoke. “There ain’t nothing wrong with our people! You sound like you know her well boss. What’s up with that?”

Martin nodded slowly, remembering that night so many years ago as if it was only yesterday. Even half way across the room, Martin could still pick out her sweet honey scent from the dozens of other in the room. “I know her, or I thought I knew her.” He replied softly. “Right now she is working directly for Senator Graham on this. He’s that greasy looking bastard standing to her left, the same Senator Graham that has wanted to can our overworked asses for years. That’s his son, following along with her, drool pouring from his mouth.” He explained. “Apparently the two of them are engaged.”

“That drugged up sleaze bucket is engaged to her?” The Master Chief echoed. “He doesn’t look like he’d know what end to put it in.”

Martin chuckled. “I agree whole heartedly.”

The Chief saw Anja look their way and he saw her face change as she turned and headed directly for them. He looked at Martin, smiling. “I’m out of here, sir. I’ll let you deal with her!”

Martin smiled back. “That Russian Mob boss Chief?”

“Yeah?”

“I got a copy of the autopsy from a friend. She popped him as he was filling her tight little body with his little Russian sausage.” Martin made the shape of a gun and pointed it at his forehead. “One 40mm round between the eyes as he was popping inside her according to the lab reports. They found semen from an unidentified female mixed in with his all over the sheets on the bed.”

“Christ that’s cold Skipper!”

Martin nodded. “That’s why they call her the Ice Queen Master Chief.” He said, turning back to see Anja’s stunning jade green eyes looking at him from less than six feet away.

Twenty-nine year old Anja Peterson stepped up to Martin, a dazzling smile on her face, her eyes bright and alive. Martin felt his own heart skip a couple beats looking at this woman in front of him as her scent filled his nostrils once more. A scent only he and his people could detect. Every man, woman and child had their own unique scent, and telling them apart came like second nature to Martin and the others now. Anja’s scent however, her scent was one Martin would never forget, as he had burned it into his mind and had ever since that night.

“Commander Martin Hunter.” Anja spoke, her voice soft and seductive. “Your reputation precedes you Commander.” She held out her hand to him.

Martin took her hand gently, dreading that this day had come now. He had hoped to never have to see Anja again, especially not after the night they had shared. It seemed fate wasn’t going to allow him that. “So does yours Commander Peterson.” He spoke calmly. “So does yours.”

Anja Peterson smiled at him, her green eyes twinkling. “It’s been a long time Martin.” She spoke softly.

“Yes, it has Anja.” Martin replied, not returning her smile. ” Not long enough it seems.”

Anja stared at his handsome face as the memories of that night flooded back to her. She was a newly promoted lieutenant in the NIS, and had just been assigned her first mission. She was to track and expose a traitor at a State function in a foreign embassy. She did not know that Martin had been assigned to security for the Ambassador to cover his mission, which was essentially the same as hers. He was there to take the traitor into custody and interrogate him. They had not known each other before that night, but they had spotted each other from across the crowed room and been instantly attracted to one another. When he had approached her Anja had been struck by his imposing physical form and expected him to be another knuckledragger Navy SEAL. She had met them before, always so arrogant and sure of themselves as if their shit did not stink, yet none of them had a wit of common sense about them. Martin was dressed in his Navy uniform, and she noticed the SEAL Trident right away, and she was wearing a very sexy and stunning red cocktail dress. They had chatted briefly, And Anja was taken aback by his casual demeanor and quiet humor, and they had exchanged phone numbers before going their separate ways within the embassy. There was something about him that had drawn her like no other man she had met before. He didn’t react as so many did when confronted with a beautiful woman. He was respectful and polite and didn’t stare at her tits, which her dress showed off quite spectacularly.

Anja Peterson was not yet cleared for information into the Genome project, and she did not know what Martin Hunter was at that point in her life; but based on everything that had happened to her since their night together, she didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. They had ended up taking down the traitor in the foreign ambassador’s office as he was beginning to transmit secret documents via computer. After a brief fight with the man and his two cohorts, their mission was successfully completed and a traitor to their nation was in custody.

Anja invited Martin back to her apartment in Washington to celebrate the mission completely on an impulse. He had accepted and they had gone back to her brownstone. They drank an excellent wine and talked with each other for over an hour, something Anja had almost never done with a man, before the sexual energy that was building between them took over. Anja didn’t remember how they had ended up in her bed, only that they had, and it led to the most exquisite and pleasurable evening she had ever experienced even to this day. Anja knew she was beautiful, and knew that she could get any man to do her bidding. She knew what she wanted when it came to sex, and she got what she wanted for the most part.

With Martin Hunter however, it had been very different. He had taken control almost immediately, his lips and tongue extinguishing any protest she might have had with toe curling kisses, that didn’t so much make her melt in his arms as they had brought out her desires more intensely. His hands had explored every square inch of her body, trailed shortly afterwards by his warm tongue. He brought her to climaxes that were more powerful than any she had ever felt, yet left her yearning for more. He met her demanding need with an equally demanding persona. His body was sculpted muscle, he was built larger than any man she had had before him, and even to this day, no one had matched his size in that department. Anja was no virgin by any means, but even the men that were larger than the norm didn’t know what to do with their cock. To them size was everything, and nothing else mattered. Martin not only had a huge cock, but he knew exactly what to do with it to make Anja sing like she never had before.

Anja found herself exploring his body as well with her lips and tongue, something she had never done with any man. She found herself enjoying the power she had over his body, but also the ability he had over her to use it. They had shared each other’s bodies well into the early morning, until she had finally collapsed from total exhaustion. When she awakened several hours later, he was gone, but he had left her a single rose with a note asking if they could see each other again soon. Anja found herself wanting to see him again. They had many things in common with each other, more so than the men did in her three previous private relationships. He left a private number where she could reach him, and she noticed it was a number with the same prefix as most Virginia based SEALs, yet she mused about it all day. She enjoyed her career and her job, and did not want a relationship to tie her down or ruin that. It was ultimately a visit by her father, a Vice Admiral, that convinced her what to do. In addition, her father got her clearance and then informed her of what Martin Hunter was, and what the Navy unit he commanded was made of.

Anja took almost a week to research Martin Hunter and the Genome project as much as her clearance allowed her too. When she finally worked up the nerve to call Martin and tell him there could never be anything between them, the Central American War was three days old, and Martin Hunter and SEAL Team 12 had already deployed. She never heard from him again, but the memories of that night came flooding back as she looked at him. She had followed his career as much as possible over the last seven years, but always kept quiet about their brief but very intense relationship.