Retirement and Ksstha's story
The fuel cell work took almost two days, which was about what I had expected. On the third day following the encounter with my sister and her family we were once again wheels-up and headed south. We soon arrived in Orlando, where I and my maintenance crew parted ways; they and the aircraft returned to the Caribbean, while I grabbed a commercial flight back to the Republic of Panama.
The flight was without incident, and soon I was again looking down upon the steaming jungles of Panama. Sergeant Pohl, the new man in our office, was nice enough to pick me up at the commercial airport and bring me back to the base.
There were papers waiting for me on my desk when I walked into my office.
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DEPARTMENT OF THE ARMY
HEADQUARTERS, UNITED STATES ARMY SOUTH
APO AA 99999-0000
ORDERS 999-0
14 December 19XX
You are released from active duty and, on the date following, placed on the
retired list. The people of the United States express their thanks and gratitude
for your faithful service. Your contributions to the defense of the United States
of America are greatly appreciated. On the date placed on the retired list, you
are transferred to U.S. Army Reserve Control Group. . . .
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"You don't seem too happy to see those."
I looked up to see CW4 Baldwell leaning just a bit too casually against the door frame, studying me. I hesitated, then stared down at the orders for a moment more before speaking. What does one say, what does one do, when faced with the passing of something that has been a part of your life for almost as long as you can remember? "I don't know, sir. Maybe it just hasn't soaked in, yet."
"Yeah." He gave me a wry smile. "I've seen a lot of people get those orders in my time, and they all seem to react the same way; a little happy, more than a little sad, and laid over top of it all a feelin' of 'just what in the hell am I doin'?!?'"
I felt myself break into a smile as I chuckled ruefully. "Yeah. I think you got it right, sir."
"So when do you start out-processing?"
"Well," I peered at the papers "according to these, I should have started two days ago. Damn. When will I ever get orders on time?"
Baldwell laughed. "Looks like never, now. Go on and take the rest of the day off, Sarge, and get started first thing tomorrow. Give me a call if you need anything."
"Thanks, sir."
"They are letting you go? They are releasing you from your oaths?"
I allowed myself a small, warm smile as I listened to the emotions behind the words. "Yes, my Lady; they moved the schedule up a little bit." I paused, then grimaced ruefully into the receiver. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they couldn't wait to get rid of me."
There was a long silence, and as I listened to the faint electronic song of the transoceanic line I realized that Dithra was seriously considering my words. For some reason, it brought home to me just how different the ancient creature at the other end of the connection was. "Do you truly think that is the case, young one? Do you think that they suspect? Perhaps we should get you out of there--"
"No, milady, no; it's quite all right. That was-- That was just me being foolish, I suppose," I sighed "I guess I was hoping for a little more, well, regret on their part to see me go."
There was another long pause. "These structures, these organizations that humans seem to insist upon wrapping themselves up in, they have never hinted that they are capable of showing emotion." Dithra began slowly. "But I have known individual humans to show regret for the loss of others, be they friends, relations, simple companions, or even respected adversaries. In this way at least some of them are very much like us, young one. You will see." A sigh came to me from over some distant electronic horizon. "If only the others would allow themselves to see it."
I nodded silently, forgetting for a moment that Dithra would be unable to see it. Perhaps she knew more about human nature than I suspected. "That would require them to let go of their hate, and I have found many people, both human and ourselves, who seem to love their hatreds above all else." And I, of course, was an expert on that particular subject, now wasn't I? The thought startled me; I rolled it around in my head, decided I didn't like the feel of it.
"Yes; that is so." Dithra paused again, then finally gave me the news I'd been waiting to hear. "I am sorry, young one. My spies are still unable to locate your children. They are certain they remain in North America, but where, we do not know."
I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the payphone's corroded metal, then forced myself to listen as Dithra continued. "My agents have also brought me news of movement from amidst the Council."
"Movement?"
"It has an interesting feel to it. Discreet, as if a part of the Council were doing something that it didn't want the remainder to be made aware of."
I chuckled quietly. "Maybe someone over there has come to their senses. Maybe someone's getting ready to toss Ahnkar and his cronies out on their ears and ask you back."
"That would be wonderful, but perhaps a bit too much to hope for. It would be more prudent to assume that someone may be readying another try for you."
Oh God, not again. "One had hopes that they would have learned a few things from our last meeting."
"I have no doubt that they did, but you yourself pointed out to me, young one, that desperation can goad one into actions that in a calmer moment would appear less than sane. I will pass this information on to Stefan. He will contact you shortly."
I blinked. "Stefan is here? In this country?"
"But of course. Surely you didn't think that we would leave you out there alone and unprotected, dear one?"
Several emotions went through me, mostly exasperation with a healthy dose of trepidation, but also warmth towards the ancient being at the other end of the line. "I suppose not. But Stefan? My Lady, this isthmus is one of the most strategically sensitive locations in all the world. Not long ago the Americans waged war here in order to keep it politically stable, and the entire area is swarming with Intelligence and Counterintelligence personnel. If one of them recognizes Stefan. . . ."
Dithra considered this. "I will pass on your concerns," she finally replied "but Stefan will remain. Please understand, young one, that he is my best agent. Also, I believe that he would insist upon staying."
"Yes, I suppose he would," I sighed. Why? I don't know. For some reason the ex-Stasi agent had grown attached to me, occasionally to the point that one could even call it hero worship. I shuddered. Yeah, right; as if there were something to worship in a dumb, worn-out old goon who just happened to have a very big gun. I changed the subject. "Any word on Pasqual?"
"I regret not, but I would be deeply disappointed if she wasn't caring for your children." Pause. "Hasai, I must know; what are your feelings towards Pasqual?"
I drew in a long, slow breath, then let it out. I looked upwards, to blindly study the mildewed concrete wall the battered payphone was bolted to. "She lied to me, Dithra. She betrayed us."
I heard the quiet hiss of an indrawn breath as Dithra absorbed my brutal words. "I understand that she lied to you, Hasai, but that was because she was being lied to in turn. What makes you think that she betrayed us?"
"My Lady, don't you think that Ahnkar's takeover of the Council was just a little too well timed? You leave them to meet with me, where you learn things that could destroy him. You return to the Council intending to strip him of power, to find him ready and waiting for you." I snorted quietly. "I don't believe in coincidences, Dithra. In our line of work, they just don't happen."
There was a period of silence, long enough for me to wonder if Dithra had hung up on me, then finally a sigh. "I hope you are wrong in this, dear one. I truly hope that you are wrong."
"If it's any consolation, my Lady, I hope I'm wrong, too. But I don't think I am."
"What are we going to do with her, Hasai? No matter what else, she will still be the mother of your children."
"Yes. I suppose. . . ." I trailed off, tried again. "I suppose that's a question that Pasqual herself will have to answer, next time we catch up to her." I glanced down one of the dark, litter-strewn streets of one of Panama City's dingier areas. "I had better go. We've been on this line for far too long."
"Good night then, dear one, and please, be careful. We need you."
I smiled wistfully. "Glad someone does. Good night, Dithra."
"ATTENTION TO ORDERS. This is to certify that the Secretary of the Army . . . "
At least it wasn't raining, for once.
"For meritorious service while serving . . . "
I stood before the rest of the unit, staring out over the heads of the soldiers who faced me, out across the P.T. field and into the emerald-green hills of the surrounding jungle.
"Your exemplary . . ."
Just to the left of my line of sight was the notch that led to the Pacific. On some nights, when the wind was just right, you could hear the surf pounding the beach from here.
". . . and singularly distinctive service marks you as a true professional. Your performance reflects great credit upon you, your unit, and the United States Army."
The company CO pinned the bit of ribbon to the front of my uniform, smiled at me, then shook my hand. "Congratulations, sergeant."
"Thank you sir," I replied, and saluted. The CO stepped to the side, to be replaced by the battalion commander. He too shook my hand, slipping something metallic into my palm as he did so. "Good luck, sergeant, and thanks."
"Thank you, colonel."
The brigade CSM didn't speak when it was his turn; we'd said everything that needed to be said the previous day. He merely winked and smiled as his leathery paw crushed my hand.
The unit formation was dismissed, but most lined up to say goodbye first. Specialist Kent was right up front. He'd somehow gotten a roomful of professional soldiers to sing me Happy Birthday once, while we were on a job out in the islands of the Caribbean. He was followed by SFC Cerrulo, the slim, dapper, deadly Cuban. I will always remember him standing in a jungle lab, literally up to his waist in bags of purest cocaine, holding in his hands enough of the glittering white powder to pay for his children's educations at the finest colleges of the world, then taking it all out and destroying it. Then there was Sergeant Pohl. I studied his florid, smiling face as we exchanged brief words. It was to him that my job fell now, and I wished him well.
There were more, each with their own name and memories, and scattered among them were others, the shades of friends and acquaintances whom I had left behind long ago.
A certain dark, rapier-lean SFC who wore a round hat and rarely smiled.
The Special Operations colonel who first showed me what it meant to be a soldier, and who died in a hail of bullets in the streets of San Salvador.
Specialist Hendricks, who vanished without a trace on the East German frontier one frigid winter night.
Paul, the burly Green Beret with the outrageous mustache, whose laughter and love of life filled to overflowing any room he entered, and who never came back from the Persian Gulf.
Diane.
The crowd finally petered out and my ordeal ended. I stood there uncertainly for a moment as I watched them walk away, then turned and dazedly trudged the short distance back to the barracks, slowly climbed the stairs to my quarters. Somehow I found myself sitting on my bunk, next to a window with a small, slag-rimmed hole burned through its aluminum frame, surrounded by the ashes of a life's calling. Finally I opened my hand and looked down at what the battalion commander had given me. It was the unit coin. Roughly the size of a silver dollar, it weighed heavily in my hand as I stared at the unit crest that gleamed on one side, then turned it over to see a map of Central America ringed with a list of the operations we had seen together.
I stared at the map until the image began to waver in my sight, then closed my eyes, gripping the coin tightly as I let the tears come.
"It does not have to be this way."
I looked up from the crimson depths of my wine glass, and I knew him. Regardless of form, I knew him by the flames that danced in his eyes where a soul should have been.
I stared at the one who stood before my tiny table, my mind utterly blank with astonishment at first, then whiting out with purest rage as the implications of his words sank home. Over in the corner the idiotic pianist continued to plink away on some wildly inappropriate tune. At nearby tables conversations faded as other NCOs in the club's dining room sensed the sudden tension in the air.
Finally I spoke. "You dare."
The tall, expensively dressed, rather cadaverous gentleman standing before me tilted his head in acknowledgment. "Yes. I must speak with you, young one. A momentary truce, perhaps?"
Glowering at him, I fought for control. Ksstha was mad, but he was no fool. We both knew that a resumption of our little argument here, in the midst of a major military base, would seal our people's doom. I felt my mouth twist at the bitter irony of it, then gestured curtly at the chair facing me. "Sit."
A small smile curved Ksstha's patrician lips as he slid into the seat, conversations around us picking back up as the atmosphere seemed to ease. "No honorifics, young one? I had hoped that Stefan would teach you better."
"You helped cast out someone I deeply respect from her rightful position," I rasped, "and then backed her usurper. You rate no courtesy." I paused for breath, then leaned forward. "And I have yet to discern your involvement in . . . other matters."
I had expected him to flinch, but his dark eyes merely grew darker still. "Of all our people that survive, surely you must believe that I would have nothing to do with such a crime." Still holding my eyes with his, he made a curious, sideways chopping motion with his hand. "I tolerate Ahnkar because he is currently necessary. The moment that he ceases to be so--" He paused as his eyes drifted, staring just over my left shoulder for the space of several breaths at something only he could see, then resumed. "If you fail to kill him for what he has done, young Hasai, then be assured that I shall not."
A hint of a cold smile once again touched his face. "Speaking of Ahnkar, may I offer you my compliments? Your handling of him at our last encounter was quite . . ." the smile broadened, ". . . educational. Your goading of Ahnkar into accepting the onus of First Strike was a brilliant move. Several of your insults were amazingly vile, I must say. I shall make a point to remember them, for my own use someday."
I didn't have the faintest idea what a First Strike was or what it meant, but I filed the term away for future research. Frankly, I'd simply been trying to get Ahnkar to give me an excuse to kill him, but I wasn't about to let Ksstha know that. I kept my face impassive.
Some of the stone-hard glint faded from his eyes. "But enough of such things. I bring you news, young one. Your children have left their shells, and have opened their eyes to see the sun. They are vigorous and will grow large and strong. This is a wondrous day for our people, Hasai, marred only by their sire not being there to witness it."
I turned my face away from Ksstha, the sudden stinging in my eyes threatening to betray me. "Is this the reason you have come here? To bring me pain?"
A gesture of negation. "Hardly, young one. I came to remind you of your duties as both parent and warrior, and to entreat you to forsake them no longer." He leaned forward. "Your children know their mother, but they sense there is someone missing, and they search for him. Eventually, as it is among our young, they will give up that search and fasten upon another male, any male, as their father figure. And whom do you think that may be?" The hellish glow of his eyes grew brighter. "Ahnkar, perhaps?"
It was the sound of silverware on the brink of sliding to the floor that brought me to my senses. Slowly, I forced my hands to give up their grip on the hapless tablecloth. I took several deep shuddering breaths, then, still studying the wrinkled cloth, I shook my head. "What you don't understand, Ksstha, is that I have not abandoned my duties. You and Ahnkar gave me a choice; either I led my children and all the rest of our kind to utter destruction, for nothing more than your twisted dreams of revenge, or I defied you. My children know no father. That much is true. But they also know no one who will lead them to their deaths as shock troops in your futile little war."
"Not yet," he replied, his gaze distant.
"No, not yet, but I have delayed you, have I not? And the longer I delay you, the longer I have to come up with something, anything, to turn both you and Ahnkar away from this madness."
Ksstha's face was cold as he studied me silently for several long moments. The fabric of his clothing drank deeply of the subdued lighting, a sable richness relieved only by the occasional interwoven thread of darkest green. It struck me then how much his human guise resembled Vincent Price in his later years. Finally he spoke again. "What is it that you want, young one? What is it that you truly desire? Power? Land? A place upon the Council? Your own Line?" He made a small gesture that somehow encompassed far more than just the contents of the room. "You seem to be fond of these Americans. Do you wish them?" His calculating eyes flicked about the room for an instant. "Join us, and I will give them to you."
I blinked in shock, then felt my eyes narrow. "I thought you wanted them dead, Ksstha."
A ghost of a smile. "That is truth indeed, young one. If it would mean the destruction of their kind, I would pluck the heart from my breast and offer it to you this very moment." He sighed. "I would even allow some of them to live, as your vassals." Ksstha paused, then leaned forward, his ancient eyes intent. "Join us, Shen-Lung, and these lands will be yours and your Line's; from these jungles to the eternal ice, from one ocean to the next, they will be yours to do with as you wish. Forever." He seemed to gather himself. "Join us, Hasai." Another pause, then a monumental effort that must have cost him everything. "Please."
All these things I will give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me. A portion of my mind gibbered crazily at the scope of what Ksstha was offering as I hesitated, pondering my next words. Finally, I spoke. "Elder, I must know. Why?"
He stared at me for a moment, utterly motionless. Finally, slowly, he gestured agreement. "Yes. Yes, you must. For then you will truly understand."
His eyes returned to studying that point beyond my left shoulder then, and for long minutes he simply sat there. Finally he spoke. "Have you ever been to the land that the humans call Siberia, young Hasai?"
I gestured negation, and his lips curled upwards in a sad smile. "A pity. It is a place of incredible beauty. A strong place, where the plains, the forests, the waters, and yes, even the weather seems to seethe with a passion for life that I have seen nowhere else in this world. The humans consider it hell. We considered it Paradise.
"My clan had dwelled in that place for as far back as we could remember, and we flourished. Disputes were few, for the land was vast and the prey were without end, and there was always enough to fill everyone's belly."
For a moment, I saw in Ksstha's face something of the creature he had been, so very long ago. Someone who had known happiness, who had found joy in beauty. Someone who, perhaps, I could have respected and admired, maybe even called friend. Then the expression on his face became one of chill amusement, and the moment was gone. "Then they came. They were such pathetic little creatures at first, many of them dying each winter. It was only because they bred like flies that the land did not succeed in exterminating them altogether. We watched them from afar, amused by their antics, and, perhaps, impressed by their determination to survive in a place that so ill-suited them. Otherwise, we left them alone."
His expression sobered. "That was our error, for had we studied them more closely, we would have learned of their malice. Have you not felt it, young one? It reverberates in the outraged wails of their young in the moment that they first draw breath and realize how cruelly they have been molded by this uncaring world, and echoes throughout their lives as they then seek revenge against the land that gave them their pathetic forms. From the belly of the earth herself they rip the fangs and claws denied them, and then use those tools to dominate all that had once dominated them.
"And that which they cannot dominate, they destroy. They knew that we would never bow to the likes of them, so in the dead of night they stole into our lairs, and fell upon us as we slept. We awakened, and we slew. And we slew and we slew and we slew. But it was not enough, and they dragged us down. Little more than a hatchling, I watched as my brothers and sisters died beneath their spears, then my mother, then, finally, my father. Slashed in a thousand places, his eyes red ruin from their weapons, he cried out in a voice so filled with despair that I hear it even now, and fell dead, leaving me alone. With them."
He paused for a long moment, his eyes utter darkness. "Myself they did not kill, but instead beat upon me until I could fight no more. They bound me, then dragged me from what had once been my home, to their own dwelling place. There, they broke my legs so I could not run, broke my wings so I could not fly, then let me live. Captive. A living trophy."
A wintry smile touched Ksstha's lips, his eyes once again distant. "And that was the mistake on their part. A fatal one. I lived. Through all their torments and indignities I lived, and studied them, and learned. I learned how to lie, how to feign weakness where there was none, how to make them believe they had broken me to their will. And I learned their most precious secret; how to hate. It was hatred that gave me the strength to re-break my useless limbs one by one, pulling and twisting at them until the bones finally set straight. It took many years, but what do years matter, to a dragon? At long last the night of vengeance came, and I was ready. I undid my shackles, a puzzle I had solved long before. Then, while my tormentors slept, I visited them in their dwellings, and slew them all."
"And that wasn't enough."
"No, young one, it was not, for when I left that place of death I discovered that what had happened to my family had befallen the rest of the clan as well. I was the last of my Line. The humans have taken everything away from me, so now I endeavor to take everything away from them, including their lives." Ksstha's smile briefly became one of grim satisfaction. "The tribe of humans that invaded our lands no longer exists; their last remnants fled to the east and across the sea to escape my wrath. But as I was dealing with them, others of their kind were spreading to other dragon lands. I tried to give warning, but the other clans would not listen at first. They refused to believe that these pathetic little creatures could be so dangerous, but they soon learned the price of their arrogance. Oh, how they learned."
Ksstha's eyes glinted. "Finally, when they found themselves being driven from their homes, they listened to me. It was I as the first leader of the Council who created, then strengthened its traditions in the hopes of having dragons speaking as one voice, acting as one will, and it was I who gathered our kind and led us against the humans in our first effort to wrest back what we had lost."
"And failed."
Ksstha's gaze lowered. "And failed. We had waited too long. We razed their dwelling places, slew them without number, and yet it was not enough, for we died as well. In the end we were forced to flee, leaving the field to the humans. It was many, many years before we regained even a shadow of our former strength, and by then the humans had overwhelmed the world."
"And now you want to try again."
"Yes. Your Lung ancestors would not support us in our first conflict, deciding instead to try to foster and guide the humans in their own lands rather than fight them. Now the Lung are gone, slaughtered by the very ones they cared for." Ksstha's head came up, and the flames were once again in his eyes. "But we have their blood. As we fled the aftermath of that battle so long ago, we realized that we would never conquer the humans as long as the Lung remained aloof and the secret of tools remained the sole domain of the humans. So we gathered our best, the few Lung that felt as we did, our mightiest Magi, and the last of the Lifeweavers, and began to Create. You are the result. You owe your existence to us, Hasai, and we call upon that debt. You and your children shall be our Lung and our tool-users, and with your power at our command we will at long last rid our world of this pestilence."
"No matter the cost, Ksstha?" I grated harshly, "To us? To our children? To the world itself?"
If anger had kindled in his eyes, or even nothing at all, I could have handled it. But it was the look of utter sadness that I saw instead that chilled me to the bone. "No matter the cost, young one. No matter the cost."