There was a moment of silence, during which I idly stroked my hand down the side of the big four-engine turboprop, its scarlet and white finish gleaming in the arc lights of the airstrip's main apron later that night. "We talked a bit more, but there really didn't seem much left to say. He finally decided I wasn't going to see things his way, and left."
Stefan blinked, arched an eyebrow, then turned to survey our surroundings. He looked rather odd in Air Force fatigues, and I had no doubt Security would have had collective apoplexy if they ever found out how easily he'd penetrated their perimeter defenses. "Approaching you in the midst of a military base. Ingenious." He turned back to me. "It seems that our dear Elder is not as mad as we thought."
I chuckled darkly. "Oh, no, Stefan; Ksstha's not mad. His mind is perfectly clear." I lifted my head to stare at the brilliant stars above, a line from Apocalypse Now coming back to me. I shuddered. "It's his soul that's insane." I looked at Stefan. "There's something else. Just as he turned to leave, he stopped, turned back, and apologized to me."
Stefan stood very still. "Apologized? Ksstha? Did he say for what?"
I shook my head, troubled. "No, he left then."
The former Stasi agent considered this for a long moment, then nodded. "Indeed." He looked at me, his eyes glinting darkly. "This is very bad. He is our greatest threat, my Lord, and he means you ill." He paused, his eyes dropping to the pavement. Finally he looked up to once again meet my gaze. "He should be eliminated."
I stared at him as he plunged doggedly on. "My Lord, please; I beg you to hear me out. Ksstha is our kind's greatest warrior, and a gifted strategist. He was our first true leader, as he has told you, and to many of us is nothing less than a living legend. Among us he has another name, did you know?" Stefan made a series of sounds that a human would be hard-put to imitate. "It does not translate well. In some contexts it would mean 'seeker of battle,' in others it would mean 'Death's Hunter.'"
I smiled slightly. "Hunter for Death, or Hunter of Death?"
Stefan didn't return my smile. "Both, my Lord."
I stood there, digesting that, as Stefan continued. "Having failed in this final attempt to convert you, my Lord, Ksstha will now attack. And when he does so, it will not be the clumsy, emotional thrashing that Ahnkar so shamed himself with. Instead, it will be cunning, it will be swift, and it will succeed."
I snorted. "Like those grabs of his in Baltimore?" I shot back sardonically.
"No, my Lord. He did not have your measure then. He does now, and this time he will not use proxies." Stefan seemed to struggle with himself. "My Lord, our Lady Dithra has forbidden me to take lethal action against our adversaries, and, for the most part, I believe she is right. In this case, however, I think that you can see the situation more clearly. We must not allow Ksstha to choose his time and place."
A pause, then Stefan braced himself into formal posture. "My Lord, I request your permission to kill him."
I stared into Stefan's eyes for a long hard moment, then my gaze slowly lowered to study the concrete beneath my feet. I felt a wave of sadness wash over me. Has it come to this so quickly? What is wrong, with both Man and Dragon, that makes conversations like these so often necessary? With no little effort I put my emotions aside and forced myself to examine Stefan's proposal. Ksstha was indeed an extreme danger. The safest thing would be to neutralize him somehow, and after looking into those dark, burning eyes, I knew that the only thing that would ever stop Ksstha would be death.
But would we succeed? Stefan had tangled with that ancient warrior once, and had only emerged victorious by abruptly switching to human-style combat tactics. Ksstha did not strike me as someone who fell for the same trick twice. As I gazed at Stefan with hooded eyes, I realized that the young dragon had little chance of surviving a second encounter. I also knew that Stefan was more than intelligent enough to realize this as well. And yet he was ready to launch himself at Ksstha's throat again, with but a single word from me. I felt shamed by my unworthiness in the face of such self-sacrifice as I frantically cast about for some excuse that would preserve Stefan's life. "Not quite yet. Yes, he is a threat, but even more so for Ahnkar. I doubt that Ahnkar's fool enough to trust him, so Ksstha's presence is probably forcing Ahnkar to waste resources guarding his back. Also, there's the possibility Ksstha will take care of Ahnkar for us, in a way that won't place my children in jeopardy. We'll let him be for now."
Damn, but that was lame, and transparent as hell. Stefan's mouth compressed into a straight line, silently advertising the agent's opinion of my reluctance. "As you wish, my Lord. When will you be departing this place?"
"Two days from now. There's a charter that leaves here once a week. I'll be on it." I quickly switched subjects, trying to put distance between us and the previous topic. "I've been thinking about something, Stefan, and the more I think about it the more confused I become. In our last encounter with the Council, I finally saw Pasqual in her true form. She was like me, Stefan; we could be brother and sister, we appear so alike. Why does the Council want me when they have Pasqual?"
Stefan looked puzzled by my question for a moment, then his head jerked upwards slightly as comprehension dawned. "Ah. Forgive me, my Lord. I should have informed you of this long before now." He smiled ruefully. "It is something that our kind has always had to live with, and I suppose such things are always the first forgotten."
Stefan shook his head, sobering. "My Lord, have you not gazed upon yourself, myself, Lady Dithra, the members of the Council, and wondered at our physical differences? No two dragons are alike, because our kind's genetic structure, that which makes each of us ourselves, is not stable."
I blinked, and Stefan smiled in answer to my silent question. "Why this is so, we do not know. Perhaps it is the same reason that we are the only higher order with six limbs instead of four? Or bring forth young so rarely?" He shrugged eloquently. "The consequences, however, are obvious. Only you, my Lord, and Pasqual together can give our kind the children that we need."
I stared at Stefan for a moment, digesting this, then grimaced. "In other words, only with our genes reinforcing one another will you get the right kids. Mix me or Pasqual with anyone else and you get Pot Luck." I sighed. "And the way our luck's been going, the traits you need from us are recessive, to boot."
Stefan thought about it. "I have little doubt you are right, my Lord." He smiled then, for a moment looking quite the rogue. "Which means, I suspect, that when we succeed in resolving our current problems, my Lord and Lady Pasqual will be kept quite. . .busy, for a long time to come."
I sputtered, heat rising to my cheeks, and Stefan actually chuckled at the expression on my face. "Forgive me, my Lord, but I find human morals on the subject more than a little amusing, and I could not resist."
I glared at the former Stasi agent for a moment, but I could not hold it. Finally I was forced to laugh as well. "Yeah, yeah. Okay, wise guy, you've had your fun." I glanced about the darkened flightline. "Now you'd better get out of here; we're really pushing our luck. Meet you up in the States. Keep an eye on Ksstha, will you?"
"Of course, my Lord, but I must ask a favor of you." Stefan paused, suddenly growing deathly serious. "Stay on the base. Until your flight leaves, stray not one step away from this place. If you do, Ksstha will be waiting."
I began to speak, hesitated for a moment as the first fragments of an idea began to form in the back of my head. "I'll do what I can, Stefan," I finally promised.
My former enemy studied my words, grimaced, then sighed. "Very well, my Lord. Please; be careful, and I pray to the Ancestors that I see you soon, safe and whole, up north." With that, Stefan gave me a small, hesitant smile, bowed slightly, then turned and walked away, looking for all the world like just another Air Force tech on the job as he vanished into the darkness. I lingered for a bit, leaning against the big aircraft's gleaming flank, some of the tension draining out of me as I quietly savored the warm, damp darkness. I was going to miss this, I knew. For some crazy reason I was going to regret leaving this soggy, mildewed piece of real estate out in the middle of the jungle . . . .
I sighed, gave the silent aircraft a last, parting pat. Then I trudged over to Hangar Two, heading for the hangar's south side, where our maintenance shop was located. The lights were on and Austin was there, as usual. I found him at his desk, hunched over a small mountain of paperwork. He looked up when I came in. "Hey, Sarge. What're you doin' out here in the middle of the night?"
I smiled wanly. "Oh, just wandering around a bit. The movers picked up all my stuff today, so it was either that or sit in my room and stare at the bare walls."
Austin chuckled. "Takin' a last look at things?"
"Yeah." I let my eyes wander idly, noticed the Pratt&Whitney PT-6 turbine in its engine stand. "Is that the engine that knucklehead pilot redlined down in Bolivia?"
"Afraid so." Austin sighed, putting down his pen. "Just got the metallurgical tests back from the lab a couple days ago. Blades're shot. Temper's drawn right out of them."
I winced. "Great. A $375,000 paperweight. Just what we need. Y'know, the review board concluded it was a bad fuel control."
The shaggy mechanic blinked. "They what? Aw, man," groaning, he cradled his face in his hands for a moment, then straightened and jabbed a callused finger at the hapless engine. "That's the biggest pile of crap I've heard all year. There was nothin' wrong with that fuel control. In fact, I stripped it off when we pulled the engine, and right now that control is in a nacelle on one of the other planes and workin' just fine. It was that shithead pilot not botherin' to use his checklist that did that engine in, and nothin' else."
I sighed, then chuckled sadly. "Yeah, well. I suppose that's what you get when you have a bunch of pilots reviewing another pilot." I turned then, and looked Austin in the eyes. "I'll tell you one thing, though; the word is out. That guy won't be flying any of our aircraft ever again."
"I hope you're right." Austin rubbed at his eyes, then stared down at the paperwork. "I've got to get this stuff done. You hangin' around these parts much longer?"
"I have a few more days, mostly tying up loose ends."
"Well," he slowly lurched to his feet and offered me his huge paw. "Here's in case our paths don't cross again. You've been good to work with, Sarge. We're gonna miss you in this shop."
I stared at the offered hand for a moment, then gripped it, fighting to keep my voice level. "You and the boys take care of yourselves, Austin." Then, with my face turned so he couldn't see I quickly left.
It was shortly after dark the next evening and I was aloft and headed for the interior, searching the forest canopy below with dragon eyes.
The tiny, ragged clearing was almost gone, swiftly being erased by the voracious jungle. It was more luck than anything else that I found it again. I brought myself down to roughly human-size to clear the encroaching trees and alighted at the foot of a tumbled mound of ancient stone blocks, now smothered in vines and other new growth. There I coiled for a while, staring up at it in silence.
I'll be leaving you soon, baby.
I don't want to, but I have no choice. I have children who need me, and right or wrong, they're my responsibility. That means I have to head north.
. . . .I don't know if I'll ever be back.
God, Ancestors, how I hope you understand. . . .
I leaned forward and placed a hand against one of the huge stones for a moment, my eyes closed. Remembering. Regretting. With a sigh I finally let my hand drop, then used it to fumble in one of the pouches of the aviator's survival vest I'd draped around my neck, at last coming up with a small, cloth-wrapped bundle.
I stared at it for long moments, my fingers lovingly stroking the fabric. Then I dug a small hole at the base of the stone with my talons. Slowly, gently, I laid the bundle into the hole, then carefully filled it back in.
Goodbye, baby. . . .
Then I heard a slight inhale.