Roland Yeomans's Blog, page 24

LET ME FALL

 It's time for a bit of whimsy: 

I even put myself in it

LET ME FALL 
{872 words}

"Let me fall,

Let me climb,

There is a moment when fear

And dream must collide."

 
I am the last of my race. I am Tuatha de Danann. And, no, human, that does not mean elf, or fae, or damned. I take that last back. 
I am damned.


"Someone I am

Is waiting for courage,

The one I want,

The one I will become,

Will catch me."


I have no memories of my youth. Youth. The word is a mockery to me.

Though I look a young woman, I have lived centuries which I do remember. I remember when the sphinx had a nose,

when the pyramids were caressed by shimmering limestone,

and when courage and honor were not hollow words.

Yes, that long ago do I remember.


"Let me fall,

If I fall,

Though the phoenix

May or may not rise."


Then how do I even know I am Tuatha de Danann? The knowledge sings to me from the depths of my spirit in the night.


Its melody mocks with teasing glimpses of a time long gone, yet unborn.


"I will dance so freely,

Holding on to no one;

You can hold me only

If you, too, will fall

Away from all your

Useless fears and chains."


How do I know I am Sidhe? It is the face which mocks me from the mirror.

High cheekbones which seem intent on bursting up and out of flesh which shimmers as if coated with stardust.

A living waterfall of honey-wheat hair, looking more like a lion's mane than any other earthly term I could use.

Large, slanted fae eyes, chilling even me with their lack of warmth or mercy.


"So let me fall,

If I must fall,

There is no reason

To miss this one chance

This perfect moment;

Just let me fall."


But enough about me. What do you think about me? On second thought, do not tell me.

What care I what humans think of me? But I lie. I do care. At least about what one human thinks of me.


Roland Yeomans. DreamSinger. 

He is Lakota myth come to life. 
He is the shaman who sings dreams to life. And he will tell me my beginnings or die.



"So let me fall,

If I must fall,

I won't heed your warnings;

I won't hear them."


My mind is churning with images humans could not comprehend as I sway up the steps of the Art Nouveau house,

that is just one of the doorways into Roland’s psyche.

Just its name alone is punishment to think, much less speak: Jugendstilhaus in der Ainmillerstrabe.

Once it had been the home of the infamous Countess Franziska zu Reventlow,

her erotic lifestyle and cosmic nonsense had inspired and broken the hearts of an entire generation in Munich.

Now it has to settle for being the most elite restaurant in the city.

No knocking on the door. 

This restaurant is much too elite for that. Only a rare electronic key will work … a key based on the silicon ingrams of Roland’s own brain.

I have mine in my longer than human fingers. Roland had sung this establishment into being along with most of Munich back when he used the pen name, The Brothers Grimm.

I slide the key through the black slot whose color matches my short-skirted version of a S.S. uniform.

True, I am some seventy years out of date. But what is seventy years to a Tuatha de Danann?

A mere hiccup in time.

I remember Wagner trying to teach me German ... among other things. I go cold inside. 

I remember too much, feel too little.

I enjoy the glares of the pompous patrons as I roll my hips to the back table reserved for DreamSinger alone.

The maitre d' nearly breaks his neck getting to me, but I am already seated, making sure my short skirt is hiked up suitably indecent to induce doomed desire.

He stands trembling over me as I take out my copy of The Spirit as Adversary of the Soul by old Ludwig Klages from my skirt pocket.

I am almost through with his nonsense. Seeing how close he can come to the truth, while stumbling right past it always makes me chuckle.

The maitre d' isn't close to chuckling. "Fraulein, you simply cannot wear that uniform in here!"

"Sure I can. What is the matter? Afraid those power brokers to our right will find out your grandfather wore this uniform for real?"

He spins around so fast he leaves an after-image. Roland clears his throat across the table from me.

“He cannot help his past.”

I study this strange man. His eyes. By the White Lady, his eyes. 

They look as if they have seen all the pain in the world … and have felt most of it.

“I’m tired of this dancing, DreamSinger. Who am I?”

Roland looks truly surprised. “I thought you knew. You are my muse, La Belle Dame sans Merci .”

"Is that my name or my nature?"

"Both."

I sit back in my chair. I had been right, after all. 

I am damned.


To read more adventures of Fallen, buy THE LAST FAE in Kindle, Print, or Audible:
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SHADOW GIFTS COME WITH SHADOW STRINGS

 

Major Richard Blaine stands on the cusp of the last day of his life and receives an unwelcome visitation.

BEWARE OF SHADOWS

“To warn, to comfort, andcommand;

And yet a Spirit still, andbright

With something of angelic light.”

– William Wordsworth

 

Helen’s lithe body seemedcaressed by licking flames as she soared up into the fire and snow.

“Great Father of us all, granther protection for she is beyond mine.”

A familiar sizzle of electricitycascaded down my body, and I heard Darael’s mocking voice beside me.

“Do you know how many of yourspecies all through your race’s history have prayed for any of mine?”

I turned and saw his waveringform as he drily chuckled,

“Let us just say you could countthem on the fingers of one hand and still have enough left to pluck a pennyfrom the ground.”

I looked up.

Helen was frozen in place againstthe unnatural azure sky like a butterfly stuck on a board, sparkles ofsnowflakes contesting hopelessly with sizzles of sparks.

“Sentient,” I muttered withoutkindness.

“No. I am afraid I am the culpritthis time. We are speaking in that nano-second it is taking your thoughts tofly from one synapse to another.

Darael sneered, “And, yes, yourpresent science would say this is impossible. The human brain does not act inthat way at all.”

He smiled in contempt.

“Shall I tell you of the frayed,raggedy history of your science? It has been, for the most part, incorrectpartially or totally for all of its existence. So, when your present sciencetells you something, ignore it, for it is likely full of cotton candy … if notsomething more malodorous.”

“Why freeze time like this?”

“You listen, but you do notcomprehend. How like all of your species. Not freezing, merely stretching themoment to Elohim standards.”

He sighed, “Does it ever botheryou when you pray and nothing happens?”

I frowned, “No. I just figure Iasked incorrectly or the Father gave me a brain for a reason, and it was pasttime for me to start using it.”

“Quaint,” he said, tapping myforehead.

“OW! That hurt like Hell!”

“Fitting since you are fightingHell. You were fated to die this day, did you know?”

“It seemed likely.”

“Ah, but the Dark One had tooverplay his hand as is his wont, throwing more pieces on the board than wasallowed. So, Elohim decided to throw you a bone.”

“I am underwhelmed.”

Darael ignored me as I wasbeginning to sense was his wont.

“You are now a livingteleportation devise much better than that madman, Reinhardt König, theorized …able to take yourself and whatever or whoever you touch anyplace you canconceive if the need be great enough.”

“How is that even possible?”

Darael sucked in a breath so deeplyI could imagine feeling the air rush from behind me to enter his ethereallungs.

“That is not unlike asking me whythose of my species find the scent of the color ‘Purple’ nauseating. Ironicsince that is the very color Caesars and Kings found so appealing and drove usfrom their very presence.”

“I have an I.Q. of 400.”

“Which is the I.Q. of my leftlittle toe.”

He shook his insubstantial head,

“Let’s have a go, then, shall we?Your eyes see images upside down and reversed. Those pesky inaccurate imagesfall upon the retina which detects the photons of light and responds by firingneural impulses in the optic nerve. 

The brain then uses those electricalimpulses to create a right-side up 3D image.”

He raised a very long spectralforefinger. “So help me, if you ask why the images are upside down, I willdevelop a nosebleed.”

I bit my lower lip in thought.

“And all this happens without mebeing aware of it like I am unaware of my brain controlling my breathing andblinking. It’s all unconscious reflex … 

as is my now being able to teleport meand others.”

Darael raised that forefingeragain.

 “If the need be great enough.”

“That could prove tricky.”

“If it was easy, then you wouldknow it was a gift from the Dark One and would ultimately destroy you.”

“You mean if I could convince mymen to come inside, I could touch a wall and transport all of us to St. Marok’sor the White House?”

He clapped his long hands. 

“Splendid! Now, you are getting the hang of it.”

Darael made a face. 

“Of course,that would leave your Helen to die a most horrid death. And the 100 Nephilimfree to decimate the Allied troops of Overlord.”

He shrugged.

“It would take over a year forAmerica to regroup feebly. 

In that time, seeing Germany free to focus totallyon his country, Stalin would sue for a peace he did not intend to keep.

 Churchill would be forced to negotiate a very unsatisfactory truce that wouldultimately end in ruin for the British Empire such as it has become.”

Darael flashed a wide politician’ssmile. 

“But you and your men would be alive.”

“I would tell you to eat fecesand die, but you can’t help being you.”

His eyes deadened. “Howmagnanimous of you.”

I pointed a forefinger at him. 

“Isthere a limit to how many times I can do this?”

I could see he wanted to turnaway, but his curiosity got the better of him.

“Pretty much indefinitely.Between the treatments you received in the future and König’s Tunnel, you trulyare a specimen worthy of being called one of the Master Race.”

“Good. I think I see a way I can winthis one.”

His voice became as dead as hiseyes. “How wonderful for you.”

“Oh, it will kill me. Maybe youshould stick around to see my final curtain call.”

“I think I will.”

BEWARE OF SHADOWS BEARING GIFTS

 

Major Richard Blaine stands on the cusp of the last day of his life and receives an unwelcome visitation.

BEWARE OF SHADOWS

“To warn, to comfort, andcommand;

And yet a Spirit still, andbright

With something of angelic light.”

– William Wordsworth

 

Helen’s lithe body seemedcaressed by licking flames as she soared up into the fire and snow.

“Great Father of us all, granther protection for she is beyond mine.”

A familiar sizzle of electricitycascaded down my body, and I heard Darael’s mocking voice beside me.

“Do you know how many of yourspecies all through your race’s history have prayed for any of mine?”

I turned and saw his waveringform as he drily chuckled,

“Let us just say you could countthem on the fingers of one hand and still have enough left to pluck a pennyfrom the ground.”

I looked up.

Helen was frozen in place againstthe unnatural azure sky like a butterfly stuck on a board, sparkles ofsnowflakes contesting hopelessly with sizzles of sparks.

“Sentient,” I muttered withoutkindness.

“No. I am afraid I am the culpritthis time. We are speaking in that nano-second it is taking your thoughts tofly from one synapse to another.

Darael sneered, “And, yes, yourpresent science would say this is impossible. The human brain does not act inthat way at all.”

He smiled in contempt.

“Shall I tell you of the frayed,raggedy history of your science? It has been, for the most part, incorrectpartially or totally for all of its existence. So, when your present sciencetells you something, ignore it, for it is likely full of cotton candy … if notsomething more malodorous.”

“Why freeze time like this?”

“You listen, but you do notcomprehend. How like all of your species. Not freezing, merely stretching themoment to Elohim standards.”

He sighed, “Does it ever botheryou when you pray and nothing happens?”

I frowned, “No. I just figure Iasked incorrectly or the Father gave me a brain for a reason, and it was pasttime for me to start using it.”

“Quaint,” he said, tapping myforehead.

“OW! That hurt like Hell!”

“Fitting since you are fightingHell. You were fated to die this day, did you know?”

“It seemed likely.”

“Ah, but the Dark One had tooverplay his hand as is his wont, throwing more pieces on the board than wasallowed. So, Elohim decided to throw you a bone.”

“I am underwhelmed.”

Darael ignored me as I wasbeginning to sense was his wont.

“You are now a livingteleportation devise much better than that madman, Reinhardt König, theorized …able to take yourself and whatever or whoever you touch anyplace you canconceive if the need be great enough.”

“How is that even possible?”

Darael sucked in a breath so deeplyI could imagine feeling the air rush from behind me to enter his ethereallungs.

“That is not unlike asking me whythose of my species find the scent of the color ‘Purple’ nauseating. Ironicsince that is the very color Caesars and Kings found so appealing and drove usfrom their very presence.”

“I have an I.Q. of 400.”

“Which is the I.Q. of my leftlittle toe.”

He shook his insubstantial head,

“Let’s have a go, then, shall we?Your eyes see images upside down and reversed. Those pesky inaccurate imagesfall upon the retina which detects the photons of light and responds by firingneural impulses in the optic nerve. 

The brain then uses those electricalimpulses to create a right-side up 3D image.”

He raised a very long spectralforefinger. “So help me, if you ask why the images are upside down, I willdevelop a nosebleed.”

I bit my lower lip in thought.

“And all this happens without mebeing aware of it like I am unaware of my brain controlling my breathing andblinking. It’s all unconscious reflex … 

as is my now being able to teleport meand others.”

Darael raised that forefingeragain.

 “If the need be great enough.”

“That could prove tricky.”

“If it was easy, then you wouldknow it was a gift from the Dark One and would ultimately destroy you.”

“You mean if I could convince mymen to come inside, I could touch a wall and transport all of us to St. Marok’sor the White House?”

He clapped his long hands. 

“Splendid! Now, you are getting the hang of it.”

Darael made a face. 

“Of course,that would leave your Helen to die a most horrid death. And the 100 Nephilimfree to decimate the Allied troops of Overlord.”

He shrugged.

“It would take over a year forAmerica to regroup feebly. 

In that time, seeing Germany free to focus totallyon his country, Stalin would sue for a peace he did not intend to keep.

 Churchill would be forced to negotiate a very unsatisfactory truce that wouldultimately end in ruin for the British Empire such as it has become.”

Darael flashed a wide politician’ssmile. 

“But you and your men would be alive.”

“I would tell you to eat fecesand die, but you can’t help being you.”

His eyes deadened. “Howmagnanimous of you.”

I pointed a forefinger at him. 

“Isthere a limit to how many times I can do this?”

I could see he wanted to turnaway, but his curiosity got the better of him.

“Pretty much indefinitely.Between the treatments you received in the future and König’s Tunnel, you trulyare a specimen worthy of being called one of the Master Race.”

“Good. I think I see a way I can winthis one.”

His voice became as dead as hiseyes. “How wonderful for you.”

“Oh, it will kill me. Maybe youshould stick around to see my final curtain call.”

“I think I will.”

ENDINGS

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To every beginning there is an ending.

But not always ...

In my worldview, the soul has a beginning but no true ending. 

Perhaps it has a final destination, yet no ending but eternity.

What did Woody Allen say?

Eternity is awfully long ... especially towards the end.

But for novels there has to be an ending. But where?

Remember the multiple "endings" to the movie, RETURN OF THE KING. 

 I was with my date who kept starting to get up scene after scene. Peter Jackson just didn't seem to want to end his epic tale.

Of course those of us who had read the book knew what the true ending would be. 

 But most in the audience hadn't read the book.

And like my date, they were frustrated and a bit miffed at Peter for misleading them scene after scene.

Not unlike an old car that just wouldn't stop after the key is turned off.

Finally, the epic ends with the closing of the door to Sam's home. 

But it was too late. Most felt dissatisfied at the false endings.

Take John Ford's classic Western, THE SEARCHERS.

It, too, ends with the closing of a home's door -- but the perspective is switched. 

The audience sees from the inside out to the figure of John Wayne beyond. 

A cover story in New York magazine called it the most influential movie ending in American history.

 
The opening and closing shots, of Ethan arriving and leaving,

framed in a doorway. The poignancy with which he stands alone at the door,

one hand on the opposite elbow (his arm having been wounded by an arrow earlier in the film),

forgotten for a moment after delivering Debbie home. 

These shots are among the treasures of the cinema.

Ethan (John Wayne) cannot enter the home which represents civilization, home, and forgiveness. 

 He is too wounded (hence the gesture of holding his formerly wounded arm.)

Ethan's story is the tragedy of the loner: 

we see Ethan at the end of the film, as we saw him at its beginning: 

alone, lonely, haunted by the past, and deeply wounded.

John Ford had this ending in mind when he filmed the beginning. 

I believe to have a truly focused novel, we as authors should have the ending in view from the very start of our story. 

Doing so provides that emotional impact of the closing lines which touches the reader's head as well as heart.

Of course, there are different ways to do that:

Snipping all the loose ends neatly.

Bracketing the novel with book-end type scenes as Ford did with THE SEARCHERS.

Or ending with a cliff-hanger, 

drawing the reader into an anxious anticipation for the next chapter in an on-going story -- 

as life is on-going.

How do you decide when to end your novel and why?
***

AWAKEN HELL!

 

"The End Is Nigh!" had always sounded hokey to Richard Blaine when proclaimed by the sidewalk prophets of New Orleans.

Now, his own instincts are shouting it, and it does not sound hokey at all.

AWAKEN HELL!

“If I cannot sway Heaven, I willawaken Hell!”

- Juno

 

Each day is a little life: everywaking and rising a little birth, every fresh morning a little youth, everygoing to rest and sleep a little death …

to prepare us for the big one, thelast one, the final death.

The door behind us opened and twovoices overlapped: Amos’ and Theo’s.

“וואס איז דאס?”

“What the?”

Theo rasped, “Amos? Did I seewings that just disappeared?”

“Yes. We both did.”

Helen twirled around gracefullyas if preparing for a Pirouette, going from angelic armor to Spartan fatiguesin an eyeblink.

Amos croaked, “Wer bist du?”

“Who am I?” Helen laughed airily.

“I am certainly not German, Amos… nor any earthly nationality for that matter. I am of another speciesentirely.”

Theo,  no-nonsense as always, said, “You are Rick’sHelen Mayfair.”

It seemed to amuse Helen to noend. 

“No, loyal and true sergeant. I am my own personage. But Richard does holdmy heart within his.”

She flicked definitely unamusedeyes to Sister Ameal. 

“An allowance on my part considered most unwise incertain circles.”

“Not unwise,” grumped thenot-nun, “fatal.”

Helen shrugged. 

“All sentientbeings make moves considered fatal that matter not at all to those who makethem.”

Amos, ever the peacemaker, walkedcautiously to the unhappy nun. 

“Ah, Sister Ameal. Rick has spoken so warmly ofyou so often.”

My “I did?” and SisterAmeal’s “He did?” mingled one with the other.

“In your infrequent comas, youtalked aloud about that which most touched your heart.”

He nodded first to Helen, then toSister Ameal. He raised a quick palm to me.

“I am a Rabbi, remember? Yoursecrets are safe with me.”

Sadly, since I remembered so fewof them myself, they were locked as if in a vault to me as well.

Helen assumed her chief librarianmode.

“As fascinating as all this hasbeen, there have been drastic developments that necessitate Richard speaking tothe remainder of the Spartan 300.”

She led me briskly to the door asif to forestall any more delays. “Let us make your Henry VI speech, shall we?”

“I’ve never been a speech maker,Helen. You know that.”

“Start now, or I will.”

The others trailed bewildered inour wake as Helen, on a tear, was a force of Nature to behold even without thewings.

The remaining Spartans were rumblingand grumbling as was their wont. 

I tried to remember my orphan days in NewOrleans when my only worry was how to survive my fellow orphans.

I remembered them only vaguely asseen through a veil. And even that much I remember with such effort andvagueness as attends the recovery of a dream.

Sometimes I almost doubt that thatorphan had ever existed.

The Spartans came to my rescue.

“Hey! It’s the Major. He’s allright.”

Porkins sputtered,

“I bet that gal is his HelenMayfair! Hey! How did she get here? She and that nun didn’t come by us.”

Helen laughed.

“Franklin, you would be surprisedat what route I took. But it wound by your Betsy. I hand-delivered your letterto her myself.”

“How? I just wrote it thismorning!”

With a flutter of leathery wingsand the sun striking fire from her gleaming armor, Helen became a warrior angelagain.

All my Spartans sprang back.

Reese drew his Stinger rifle fromover his shoulder …

which he promptly dropped as sparksflew from the longer than I remembered fingers of her right hand to his weapon.

“None of that, Trent! Save thosebullets for the true enemy … whose numbers and natures have changed … anddefinitely not for the better.

Sister Ameal stepped beside theangel of my heart. “Which is why the angelus Helen Mayfair and ….”

Taylor dug his elbow in Evans’ribs.

“You hear that? The Major issweet on an angel.”

Sister Ameal sighed,

“Stewart, you catch all the wrongimplications in your listening.”

Eric huffed, “Ain’t that thetruth, Sister.”

It began to snow. Flakes of it flutteredin my face, stinging my eyes.

Snow in June?

Sparks of fire were sailing downbeside the cold flakes. Both stung my chin. What was going on?

Helen whispered, “It means theEnemy is at the city’s edge. Only heartbeats before they strike.”

I stepped closer to the stairs’railing. “I cannot ask you Spartans to face these increased odds and monsters.”

“M-Monsters?” gulped Floyd.

I nodded. “Yes. They go by thename of  the Nephilim.”

Amos gasped, “Gehenna!”

Kent groaned, “Damnation! They arereal?”

“What are they?” Porkins managedto get out of a rapidly closing throat.

Dickens sighed as if his heart hadbeen transformed to heavy iron.

“The terrible progeny, thechildren, of fallen angels and human women.”

I almost sighed myself, but I foughtit.

“They are at least fourteen feettall … and they can fly.”

André's cigarette fell from the corner of his lips.

Evans scoffed, “Oh, a truckloadof ‘Hell No’s’!”

Dimitri laughed, “Fly!? What canwe do against something like that?”

Cpl. Sam Wilson said low,

“We can prevail that’s what we can do. Eachof us met the Major when we was about to die. He saved us. All this past timeis gravy we wasn’t supposed to get in the first place.”

Vincent asked me,

“How many of them are there withthose two hundred Nazi psychos?”

Theo looked disgusted with them.

“Don’t forget the three Tiger Tanks.”

Vincent laughed ugly. “Three Tigers!”

Helen stood defiantly beside me,flaming sword drawn, trembling in her quivering fist, and spoke dangerouslylow,

tears of fire seeping from her eyesthat seemed portals into Hell.

“There are 100 Nephilim, Anthony.”

I felt like Colonel Travis at theAlamo.

Turning to Sister Ameal, I asked, 

“If I fight a delaying action, can you transport the Spartans to safety?”

“No. they would burn in myessence as you did when leaping from Rommel’s castle window.”

Helen looked horrified at SisterAmeal. 

“Oh, do not! He survived, Angelus!”

Sister Ameal turned baleful eyesfirst on the Spartans and then, on me.

“But Reinhardt König conceived ofan instrument of teleportation which I have perfected.”

She turned to them. “With it I cantransport these Spartans …

She seemed to spit the last word …“to safety in their former barracks.”

I nodded and turned to my men. “Anyof you go if you choose. I will not think any less of you.”

“I will!” spat Helen.

“Hey, Babe,” laughed Vincent. “You’rea damn angel.”

Helen murmured, “You have the ‘damned’part correct, mortal.”

Amos and Theo stood beside me.

“We’re staying with you, Rick,”they both said as one.

Porkins cleared his throat. “Tellus the truth, Major.”

“I always do.”

“O.K. If you could leave rightnow without anyone knowing, would you?”

I drew in a deep breath, closedmy eyes, and squeezed the bridge of my nose.

He deserved an honest answer. WouldI? I had no death wish. Helen might think less of me, but she would forgive me.

I slowly took each of them inwith my eyes.

“If I left, this moment would neverleave me. Never. For the rest of my life, I would see it each time I closed myeyes.”

I felt Helen’s own eyes on me.

“I have seen the helpless raped,murdered. The ones they loved forced to live with the raw wound of it. There isan Evil behind all this world’s madness and agony.”

I took off my Spartan helmet andironed my face with fingers I no longer felt.

“And this Evil is coming for me.If … if I failed to face this Evil and ran … I would still lose. My actionswould hold to naught the suffering and deaths of others who could not fightback. To naught! To nothing!

It would be as if I said alltheir suffering meant nothing to me … that only my own life mattered.”

I placed my Spartan helmet back firmly on my head. 

“I may die this day. But I will not lose!”

I turned to Helen. “But youescape, and I will ….”

Her face lunged right up to mine.“Hell … no. Hell, no!”

Helen wheeled to the Spartans. “Whatsay you? What?!”

As one, they all roared, “Hell,no! Hell, no!”

Helen twirled her fiery sword,dipped her long fingers into the liquid flame, and drew white-hot lines alongboth cheeks.

Her lithe body soared into the sky,and she screamed,

“Réveillez l'enfer ! Awaken Hell! Réveillez l'enfer !”

ORIGINS

 

Major Richard Blaine discovers truth discloses to the wise and hides from the foolish their lack of understanding. 

What perplexes him is to what group does he belong?

ORIGINS

“We do not see things as theyare, we see things as we are.”

- Talmud Yerushalmi

 

A stunned Cloverfield held out anopen palm towards Sister Ameal as if to ward off a blow – which is what Isuppose my revelation might have seemed to him.

“Hold on there, ducks! 

You meanto say you’ve been human all the while you’ve been tormenting Rick andinsulting us in our helmets?”

Sister Ameal turned a jaundicedeye to Helen. 

“You dim three-quarters of yourself merely to be like them?”

Helen shot the sister, who was apersonification of Sentient, a look that should have jutted three inches out ofher back.

Abruptly, her face became swathedin eerie glints of red caressed by dark clouds.

“In the sphere of thought ... absurdity and perversity remain the masters of this world, and their dominionis suspended only for brief periods.”

Cloverfield barked a laugh. 

“Major, I can see why you are drawn to her. You are like two peas in a pod.”

Helen turned to him. 

“If onlythat were so.”

She flicked troubled eyes toRachel. 

“What rate of interest would you pay for the capitol of the sergeant’slove for you and yours for him though its bloom was fated soon to die?”

Rachel murmured, “If you have toask, no answer from me would suffice.”

Cloverfield snorted, “Well, thisconversation has waded into deep waters.”

Sister Ameal fixed him with herdisturbing eyes. 

“Poor James. You are a lost dog sleeping in the shadow of thegreat Buddha’s statue while understanding not a whit of his teachings.”

I stepped between the two ofthem. 

“He understands more than you think. He understands that our primepurpose in this life is to help others. And if you can't help them, at leastdon't hurt them.”

Rachel said low, 

“In other words,more than you understand.”

He smiled sourly.

 “Not that Iagree with what either of you said about me … but thanks for the kindthoughts.”

With a leathery rustle of hugewings, the Angel of Death appeared beside an unruffled Cloverfield whoobviously expected some nastiness from Sentient.

“You are getting predictable, oldgirl. That could prove dangerous with your enemy, Mr. Morton.”

Jarring even me, both SisterAmeal and the Death Angel spoke as one, but with drastically different voices. 

The Angel’s voice echoed as if from the depths of a cavernous tomb.

“My enemy only because of my associationwith young Blaine, here.”

Both Death Angel and Sister Amealshrugged,

 “Predictable? Or merely a feint to lead him into believing me lessthan I am? 

As your dealing with the Nephilim so easily was to fool you intothinking their threat dealt with once and for all.”

“Easily?” scoffed Cloverfield.“You call what we did easy?”

“Yes,” said all three females.

I was in the minority with James,thinking our victory was hard won.

He winked at me. “We males haveto stick together, right-o?”

Helen smiled sadly, “We brothers,rather.”

The Death Angel stroked the cheekof the indifferent Cloverfield. I guess he felt they were old travelingcompanions.

Only she spoke this time, 

“And Iam more than you have the intellect to comprehend, mortal man. I come from … aregion, a dimension many layers from this insignificant pustule of yours.”

“Don’t sugar-coat how you feelabout me or anything. Just lay it out straight. I can take it.”

Rachel walked slowly to him andlaid a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“No, you cannot. But together, you and I,can. Do your worst, entity, and we shall bear it.”

I shook my head vigorously at theDeath Angel, and Helen placed a light hand on my own shoulder.

“Abide, Richard. Hard as it maybe for you to believe:

 Sentient has come to truly care for you, and inextension, for those for whom you have come to care. 

No harm will come tothem.”

The Death Angel and Sister Amealboth fixed her with hard stares. 

“Are you so sure?”

“Oh, bother! You and I have trueenemies with which to battle not too long from hence. Have done with thisfaçade.”

Sister Ameal alone spoke, 

“Blaineis right about you; you take all the joy from contesting with nightmare.”

Helen glared at me, and Ishrugged. 

“It was a different time, a different me. I’ve grown.”

She sighed, “No, you have not. Atleast not in that aspect. But it is one of the reasons I love you.”

A voice like the ghost bell I onceheard in that lost temple in Syria mocked, 

“Understanding love is like tryingto smell the color of the number 9.”

Helen wheeled about, her fatiguesshimmering into burnished armor. 

“Darael! You promised Sister Ameal to never harassme again.”

He raised a very long forefinger. 

“In New Orleans, my tempestuous Angelus. This is France. Hence, my word remainstrue.”

His leonine face was above apriest’s collar. His black robes held clusters of slowly revolving galaxieswithin its strangely moving folds.

His smile reminded me of the openingline of Scaramouch:

"He was born with a gift oflaughter and a sense that the world was mad."

The line is Sabatini's epitaph,inscribed on his gravestone in Adelboden, Switzerland.

I hoped it was not an omen for me… or a portent of who this Darael was to be in our lives … for he was a stockcharacter in the Italian theater.

There, he was an unscrupulous andunreliable servant. His affinity for intrigue often landed him in difficultsituations,

yet he always managed toextricate himself, usually leaving an innocent bystander as his victim.

He gave a courtly bow.

“Ah, while I have often resembledthat particular fellow. I am here at the behest of Elohim for once.  

A literal Deus ex machina. How delightful forme, a humble Seraph Provocateur.”

Sister Ameal growled, “Why shouldwe believe you?”

“By all means, do not.”

He turned to me. 

“I am here topresent you with a CliffsNotes version, as it were, of the origins of the twofearsome ladies in front of you.”

The Death Angel glowered, 

“Thatpublication will not be created until August 1958!”

Darael shrugged unconcerned, 

“Thatis the trouble with jumping over the squares of Time as if playing checkers …or is it Chess? I get the two confused.”

Sister Ameal said menacingly. “Howabout getting to the point?”

“Oh, that is why Elohim sent me,did he not?”

He patted me on the shoulder, anda tingle of odd electricity shot through me.

Darael gestured to Sister Ameal andnodded to Cloverfield. 

“She is not as you surmised some mutant human with oddabilities.”

He smiled a thing of dry ice. “Thoughshe is indeed odd.”

Helen gripped the hilt of hersword which only seemed to amuse him.

“She was formed by Hands thatwere not Hands.”

“I know that!” I snapped.

“Yes, but your friends do not. Andyou, my naïve friend, do not know that she was conceived by Minds that were notMinds. 

So, when she perceived she had been abandoned at the birth of yourplanet, she was merely planted.”

“For what reason?” frowned SisterAmeal, now interested.

He shrugged. 

“I have absolutelyno idea. Elohim does not tell me everything. I get the impression he does nottrust me. Can you believe that?”

“Yes!” We all cried.

“Rude,” he muttered.

 “I would imaginesince they were big on experimentation, leaving her here was part of some incomprehensibleexperiment … which given their flighty nature, they could have entirelyforgotten about by now.”

“Why are you telling them this?”Helen frowned.

“They have been battling sofuriously of late that I wanted to give them a chance to step back and accessthe implications of their recent encounters.”

He smiled as if he were a usedcar salesman. 

“Which leads me to you, dear Angelus.

He patted me on the shoulderagain, but this time without the electric jolt.

“You know she was assignedCommissioner Mayfair at the behest of his dying wife. 

What you … and she, donot know is that she is unique. The only angelic being created as a child to growin the natural order of humanity.”

He turned to her and sighed,

 “Onlyyou have never been nurtured within the plane of the Gateless Realm, 

never beengiven the rudiments of what it means to be you.”

“That’s not fair!” I exclaimed.

Darael shrugged, 

“Elohim seesalong planes even I nor Sentient see. Who are you to proclaim what is or isnot equitable?”

“What if I say different?”

Rachel walked to me, sighed, andhugged my arm. 

“Your arms are too short to box with God, Richard.”

Darael smiled like Mr. Morton. 

“Besides, soon, you may be in theposition to rail against Him yourself should you be so foolhardy.”

“What do you mean?” barked Cloverfield.

“I mean that the Barbarians areat the gate, 

and it is time, Major, for you to give your men a fitting Henry VI speechto speed them on their way. As for myself, I must be leaving.”

Rachel scoffed, “You dump all thisin our laps and then just leave?”

“My dear nurse, this is not somecelluloid melodrama. It is life; it is War. 

Individuals will cross your path amidstthe hostilities, never to be seen again.

He patted Helen’s cheek. 

“Youwill live longer if you let your human fend for himself.”

“Never!” she shouted.

The shout was to empty air.

Like the theatrical Scaramouche,he was gone when we needed him the most.

SUMMER’S FINAL HYMN TO THE SETTING SUN

 

Should he go by Major, Colonel, or General? Richard Blaine cannot decide. Then, life gives him much more to ponder!

SUMMER’S FINAL HYMN TO THESETTING SUN

“The reasonable man adaptshimself to the world: 

the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt theworld to himself. 

Therefore, all progress depends on the unreasonable man.”

― George Bernard Shaw

 

I fought sagging in my chair.Rachel, Cloverfield, and I had raced our drones to the cliffs overlooking OmahaBeach.

I depleted the last of my acidlight at the gun emplacements while my two Spartans had done the same,

 inflicting more damages with their greater reserves of hellfire than I couldwith my meager supply.

As I did so, it had felt oddlooking down on the cliffs and the still smoking tunnel entrance 

where I knewmy Spartan 300 were still getting their bearings three days in the past.

With nothing left to shoot, weaimed our drones into the still firing gun emplacements and dived-bombed intothem.

Sentient had mockingly left outhow bad it would hurt us back in our seats in the present.

Cloverfield groaned,

“Withhold my compliments to yourDark Passenger for being so reticent of the consequences of following herinstructions.”

From the echo effect in myhelmet, I knew Sentient was speaking to all three of us:

‘If you cannot glean my words Iwill explain, but do not ask me to reveal what I've left unspoken between mylines.’

“If we cannot glean your words,Sentient, how on earth can we ask what lies in between them?” asked Rachel,

 swathingher question in a sigh intended to convey an impression of hard-pressedfortitude.

“Now all you need to do is tofall dead at our feet to make the picture complete,' remarked Cloverfield.

“You first,” said Rachel deadpan,making of her expression a visual pun.

I stretched my aching back andsighed,

“People are always blaming theircircumstances for what they are. I don't believe in circumstances. 

The peoplewho get on in this world are the people who get up and look for thecircumstances they want, and if they can't find them, make them.”

He grimaced, 

“I know that makessense to you, Major. Confound it all! At least let me address you as Colonel.Heavens knows, Roosevelt himself promoted you.”

I told him and Rachel whatSentient had shown me of his implication in the kidnapping of the Lindbergbaby.

“Oh, that. MI6 knew all aboutthat years ago.”

“They did?”

“Oh, yes. What you obviously didnot know was that the mother suspected Lindberg himself of the crime. 

Seemslike the man couldn’t even bring himself to look at the poor rickets-afflictedchild. Never called the infant by name. 

Always referred to the infant as ‘It.””

Cloverfield snorted, “So, whatRoosevelt intended to destroy the man actually took a burden from hisshoulders.”

He shook his head at the expressionon my face. 

“Sorry, old chap. I really do look upon you as a younger brotherlike Rachel. But you have a much too simplistic idea of morality.”

“Which I have been trying torectify his entire life,” spoke a voice behind me that sent chills down myspine.

I spun around in the chair.“Sister Ameal?”

I stumbled out of my chair at thesight of the person beside her.

“Helen! How?”

Tall as I remembered but now clothedin fatigues that fit her even more snugly than Rachel’s did her. 

The nurse inquestion slowly raised an eyebrow noticing what I had.

Helen matched her raised eyebrowwith one of her own.

Cloverfield snorted, “Women.”

“Only half right,” smiled Helenin her dry, amused way.

She turned to me, a strand ofstrawberry blonde hair slipping out from beneath the helm of her own Spartanhelmet.

“Richard, you have ever asked thewrong question. It is not ‘How’ but ‘Why’ you should be asking.”

James said, “Oh, we know. Youwant to warn us about those nasty hybrid beasties.

Sister Ameal shook her head. “Yes… and no.”

“You haven’t changed, Sister,” I said.

Her angular face showed disappointment.“You have never seen me as I am, Young Sir.”

I smiled drily, “That’s not howyou address me within my mind … Sentient.”

“How long have you known?”

“I did not know. I guessed justnow. Lately, I have been beginning to feel like Pip at the end of his tale, 

findingout all the important people in his life were not what he supposed and wererelated one to the other.”

Helen murmured, “I am not a ‘People,’nor was I ever.”

I shrugged, “I suspected that much,Helen. But I fell in love with your spirit and that was enough for me.”

Cloverfield groaned, 

“Mate, fromanyone else that would have sounded daft. But from you it sounded natural. Herenow, did I just insult you?”

Rachel glowered, “Yes.”

I shook my head at the same timeHelen smiled. “No. It is what one brother would genuinely say to another.”

Her eyes grew wet. “Odd. All hislife Richard was an orphan. Now at the end of it, he has found a family.”

 

“I know this is the End.

I hear the roar of the Void.

One last fight.

My last stand.

 

Nowhere to run

Nor would I if I could.

 

If this ends,

I end it right.

No regrets, no wailing.

 

For I have lived

Long enough

To see Her again.

 

That is enough.

 

And if I fall,

I fall the right way:

Never backing down,

Never kneeling down.

 

Choosing to protect others.

Standing and fighting.

Denying the reality of my death.

 

Every human has been here:

A time of birth

A period of struggle

A place of death

Where I didn’t expect mine to end.

 

But who does?

 

Shadows lengthen as summer sings

Its final hymn to the settingsun.”

– Richard Blaine

FOR THE ASHES OF HIS FATHERS

 Major Richard Blaine 

-- he refuses to go by his new rank of Brigadier General since he learned of Roosevelt's complicity in the kidnapping of the Lindberg baby --

is determined to face terrible odds by Cyrano de Bergerac's cry: "Yet I fall fighting, fighting still!"

FOR THE ASHES OF HIS FATHERS

“Be strong, even when you feelyou cannot be.”

- Marcus Aurelius

 

Cloverfield frowned. “I’ve neverheard you be so defeatist, Major. Oh, stone the crows! What do I call you now?Major, Colonel, General?”

“How about just friend?”

He almost laughed, “Bloody hell,mate. You’re an officer! You can’t have friends among your enlisted men.”

“What can I say? I’m a lousyofficer. I must have lost the handbook somewhere along the way in Sicily.”

Rachel shook her head. “You don’tget it, James. You still don’t get him.”

James? I smiled inwardly. She hadforgiven him.

“He was playacting again.”

She nodded to the hissing radio.

“For the German High Command. Youdon’t think they weren’t listening in? That whole conversation was the biggestParty Line in history.”

Cloverfield’s whole face lit up.

“You were playing the buggers,weren’t you? Giving them the impression that you had given up.”

I nodded. “I have a surprise ortwo in store for them. I was playing to their vanity and absurdity.”

He nodded. “The two essentialprerequisites for being fascists in the first place. Take Mussolini forexample.”

I gestured to them.

“But I’ll need the help of youboth. I caught on that you two can understand German. Can either of you readit?”

“We both can,” smiledCloverfield.

“How do you know I can, mister?”

He smiled broader. “MI6 agent,remember?”

I approached the blood-splatteredwall of gauges, dials, and glass screens. There was no criticizing theexplosion. It had killed the rats and left the cheese intact.

I pressed the glaring black ivorystud in the shape of a glistening swastika.

‘If we arrange matters a’right,that is all that will remain of the Third Reich.’

Three black leather chairsmechanically jerked out from the bottom of the monitors like jeering tonguesfrom a mechanical Cerberus.

“Stone the crows!”

“What he said,” murmured Rachel.

Facing the chairs wererectangular screens and beneath the screens were thick books on a desk-likeapparatus.

At Sentient’s bidding, I walkedto the books and paged to specific numbered pages, reading them quickly.

I had worried for nothing.

There was no need for my comradesto read German to operate the flying machines that now were the only hope forthe Rangers at Point-du-Hoc and the soldiers on Omaha Beach.

I saw buttons depress seeminglyof themselves, and a humming filled my ears.

‘Oh, ye of little faith. I havemanipulated time, slipping our metal bees three days reverse of now.’

I turned to Rachel.

“You take the chair to my left asCloverfield will take the one to my right. The small steering wheels on theglistening desks will steer flying machines that 100 years from now will becalled Drones.”

Cloverfield grunted, “Like thebees?”

“And like bees, these machineswill sting … with the acid light beams I used aboard the Rocinante.”

They had both sat eagerly in thechairs. Now, their hands popped off the wheels.

“Sentient has improved thesemachines.”

Rachel looked at my hands, thenat her own and determinedly placed her hands back on the wheel. Cloverfieldfollowed suit … but slower … much slower.

“I know each of you have flownbefore.”

Rachel frowned at me. “Damn thatblabbermouth Sentient.”

I ignored her, hoping Sentientwould do the same. “Like flying, you want to dive, push the wheel down.”

Cloverfield interrupted, “Andwhen we want to climb, we pull up on the steering wheel.”

I nodded. “Shifting the wheel left orright will move your drone accordingly.”

“And when you want to fire theacid lights, you press the studs on the inside of the wheel. 

Don’t worry about some“syncronizing" mechanism that will allow your drone to “fire through"the propeller without shooting the propeller to pieces. 

The propeller to yourdrone is on top of it.”

Rachel shook her head firmly. “Iwill not fire on human targets.”

“You won’t have to. You are touse your acid lights to carve handholds in the trench I will melt up the sheercliff of Point-du-Hoc with my drone.”

As I sat down in my own chair, Iturned to Cloverfield. “You are to take out the snipers along the ridge thatwill decimate a full half of Lt. Col. James Earl Rudder’s Rangers if youdon’t.”

He laughed, “They will be sittingducks for me.”

I had a sudden sinking feeling inthe pit of my stomach.

“I don’t think so. I have toblast that trench ‘très vite’ and fly as fast as I can to the top of the cliffoverlooking Omaha Beach to zero in the Nazi shooters or only a bloody remnantof those Rangers will be alive to attempt that suicide climb up this cliff atPoint-du-Hoc.”

“Bloody Hell!” screamed Rachel asa giant winged monstrosity flew out of the corner of her screen right at herdrone.

Now, I knew what had triggered mypremonition.

I should have known that Mr.Morton would step in to counter my move on this chessboard.

‘All of you are in jeopardy,Blaine. These creatures are not of this plane. They damage those drones; they killtheir pilots as well.’

I recognized the being. “Merde! A!”

“What?” sputtered Cloverfield.

Proving she had indeed beenraised in a convent, Rachel growled, “Unholy hybrids between angels and humanwomen.”

She very unladylike spat on thebloody floor. “These abominations I can kill. Those Rangers will have tofind their own handholds.”

She blew a stray lock of ravenhair from her eyes.

“James, you take out thosesnipers and see if you can’t splash some molten rock on their replacementswaiting behind them. Richard, you burn that trench as fast as you can andstreak to Omaha and do what you have to do.”

Sentient marveled inside my head.‘Roosevelt should have made her general.’

‘Amen to that.’

‘Those Nephilim are inhumanlyfast. But since that tunnel so are the three of you. They will not be expectingsuch furious hand to eye coordination from any of you.’

But typically, Sentient didn’ttrust me.

She took control of my body. Myscreen blurred with the speed of my drone and its searing a wide trench up thesmooth thirty meter high cliff.

In a heartbeat, I could see whyshe had taken over. The steering wheel spun under my/her hands in a whirl. Thescreen showed I was doing a 180 degree turn, blasting a back-stabbing Nephilimfull in the fanged face.

My throat tightened.

That had been too close. I hadalmost bought that highly unwanted farm.

Again my/her hands spun the wheelmadly. My drone did a 90 degree turn, searing a hole in the back of another Nephilimdiving to destroy Rachel’s drone.

She cried out, “Richard!”

Sentient spun the drone in a 360 degreearc, taking out three more Nephilim in the process.

“Don’t worry, Luv! The General isdrawing all their fire leaving us free to do our duty.”

Yeah, about that.

I was getting airsick from allthe lurching, diving, and climbing my screen showed from all of Sentient’smaneuvers.

Sentient cried triumphantly frommy throat: “Yet I fall fighting, fighting still!”

“Ow!” I cried as a hot, searingpain stabbed into both my palms.

I wrenched my hands away from thesmoking steering wheel.

‘Do not worry, Blaine. It is justa built-in warning that your lasers are about to burn themselves out.’

I yelled, although my comradeswere sitting right next to me.

“My Acid Lights are just about torun out of juice, so what you two have done here will have to be enough.”

Cloverfield breathed, ‘I think Ijust about did in all those snipers and their replacements. How about you,Luv?”

I smiled wearily. Nothing likefighting demonic horrors together to bring hostilities to a halt betweenhumans.

“I burned enough handholds forarthritic grandmothers. They should be sufficient for hardy Rangers, for alltheir swaggering at the hospital.”

A mocking male voice boomed inour speakers and made all three of us jump in our seats.

“Is that Nurse Reynolds? I haveyou know that it is not swaggering if it is warranted.”

I didn’t know how or why Sentienthad connected us to the colonel. But that was my Dark Passenger for you: drivenby her own unknown agendas.

Cloverfield snorted in hisspeaker.

“Col. Rudder, is it? I have seenyour men. It is swaggering. We’ve plowed the field for you, Yank. Don’tmind the beasties. We took care of them for you, too.”

Rachel mocked, 

“Now, get yourarses up that cliff and find out that the … Major was right. They sent you toblow up mock telephone poles.”

“What?”

I said, “Don’t worry, Colonel.You can follow the drag marks on the grass and dirt to where the real guns arehidden.”

Cloverfield laughed, “Then, youcan destroy them. It always makes me feel better when I blow things up.”

 

THE PARTY’S OVER LINE

 

Things nearly come to killing for two of Major Richard Blaine's Spartans

THE PARTY’S OVER LINE

“The single biggest problem in communication isthe illusion that it has taken place.”

 - George Bernard Shaw

 

Cloverfield looked concerned.“Did your Dark Passenger give you a time schedule for their arrival?”

“Sentient’s not in the habit oflaying it all out on the table for me.”

‘And make you mentally lax? Ithink not.’

Rachel shook her head. “Thismakes no sense. The two of them are across the Atlantic in the States.”

“You know the Fairbairn-Sykesdagger you found on the floor of my hospital room the first time we met?”

“Where that cowardly Major Laskadropped it? Yes.”

“He dropped it when he wasstartled by ….”

“Yes, my appearance at the door.”

“No, by the appearance of SisterAmeal. He took off running at the sight of her. I didn’t blame him. She was ina mood.”

“What?”

“She dropped it for you to findwhen she heard you coming down the hall.”

“Where on Earth did she go? Shewasn’t there when I walked in.”

Cloverfield mused, “Maybe shewasn’t on Earth.”

Rachel snapped, “Care toelucidate, Agent?”

“No.”

I sighed. So, it was going to bethat way between them for awhile, was it? Well, at least they both were stillalive.

But had Theo overheard throughthe helmets’ speakers Cloverfield threatening the love of his life?

‘No. I turned off your helmets’speakers when the three of you entered this laboratory. Your Spartans need tosave their violence for your upcoming guests.’

I heard the pounding of hammersagainst wood outside the building.

My sergeant-major was obviously hastily building steps to replace the ones destroyed by the explosion.

Theo’s voice came through myhelmet’s speaker. “Rick. Rick! Can you hear me?”

“Now, I can. Sentient momentarilyturned off our helmets’ speakers.”

“Why would she do that?”sputtered Theo.

Rachel spoke up, “Why does she doanything? She obviously had her own reasons. And you know how much she shares.”

Cloverfield looked a question ather, and she mouthed, “Later. Just you and me.”

The radio crackled again. Butimpossibly, it was the voice of General Bradley.

“Blaine! You there?”

I heard a thump as if a fist hita desk.

“Damn this newfangled radio. Whomade this? Tesla? Is he still alive?”

Another thump that I could feelin my eardrums. “Leave it to the Army to set its course by the light of everypassing ship, instead of setting it by the stars.”

I was shocked to hear him use avery uncharacteristic swear word.

“If we continue to develop ourtechnology without wisdom or prudence, our servant may well prove to be ourexecutioner.”

I loped over to the radio,scanning the dials and turned what seemed to be the right one. I spoke into theshimmering mesh in the panel’s center. For once, one of my guesses provedcorrect.

“When you are right, general,you’re right.”

“Blaine, where the devil are you?And you’re supposed to say ‘Over’ when you finish speaking! Over.”

“I don’t do jargon, General ....”

I caught Rachel eyeing me andsmirked, “Over.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Where the hell are you,Blaine?  Over.”

“,General.”

The answer so stunned him that heforgot to chastise me for my lack of radio etiquette.

“Where the blazes is that? Handme that map, Laska. Yes, I know he failed to end the transmission properly.  Quit reminding me of the obvious, Major.”

I winked at Rachel. “Oh, I didforget, didn’t I? Over.”

Cloverfield snorted, and Bradley growled,“I heard that, Agent. Don’t think I won’t tell Churchill of your disrespect.”

Churchill’s voice thundered fromthe speaker.

“You do not have to. McCord hasgiven me one of Tesla’s newfangled radio sets. And can we for the length ofthis conversation dispense with all this ‘Over’ nonsense?”

I asked Sentient, ‘McCord? Ithought he was the owner of a News Service?”

‘And a great many other things ashe, himself, is a great many other things.’

Roosevelt’s rejuvenated voiceboomed from the speaker.

“I heartily concur, PrimeMinister. And young Curtis has just shown me that Oradour-sur-Glan is over 310miles from Omaha Beach. However, did you manage that miracle, ColonelBlaine?”

Laska gasped through his choking,“Mr. President, you can’t promote an officer over the radio!”

“I am Commander-in-Chief in thetime of war, sir! I believe I can, and I have!”

“Sir,” I said, “I do not deservethe rank of Major, much less that of Colonel.”

“Your elixir has made a new manof me. I look, feel, twenty, no, thirty years younger. For that, I am temptedto make you a general. No, forget being tempted. I am promoting you to brigadier-generalas of this moment.”

I heard young Spartan Curtissquealing in the background.

I asked Sentient, ‘What is hegoing on about? I gave him no elixir.’

‘He could hardly say your“spittle,” could he? Besides, his is a coldly canny political mind. Having a daVinci as one of his officers may prove useful to his future political ambitions… while having a messiah could provide him unwanted future opposition.”

“What do you mean?’

‘Observe.’

A scene appeared in my mind: ayounger Roosevelt sitting behind his presidential desk, facing a group ofsomber men.

“Gentlemen,” said the president. “Somethingmust be done about this Lindberg situation. America has room for only onemessiah. And I am he.”

‘He … he wasn’t behind thekidnapping, was he?’

‘Ah, you have seen so much and yetare still so naïve. The death of the infant was not his intent, of course. Butwhen you proceed with a criminal endeavor, it often leads down unintended paths.’

‘I have no words.’

‘For once. 

I observed Caesar ashe crossed the Rubicon, believing his own lies that his intent was noble whenit was merely self-serving. Beware, my champion, for your own flesh is capableof such self-delusion.’

 Roosevelt’s words impacted even GeneralBradley negatively. “Mr. President, I must protest.”

“General Bradley,” I began.

He snapped me off mid-sentence. “DidI mishear you? I thought you did not want high rank, Blaine?”

Churchill did some snapping ofhis own, “General, that was unconscionably rude. Would you hear the young manout?”

It was ironic to hear the PrimeMinister accusing someone else of being rude. Churchill was brutally rude,capricious, and petulant. Even his wife feared he was being corrupted by power.

“My rank will be of littleconsequence, sir.”

The President huffed, “Are youthrowing my gift in my teeth, Blaine?”

Rachel had had enough. “Men! Youdo not listen with the intent to understand. You listen with the intent toprove you are right!”

She slapped her arms along hersides as if they could see her over the radio.

“General Blaine is trying to tellyou we are soon to be facing over 200 psychopathic SS troops, bolstered by notone but three Tiger Tanks! Promoting him to Emperor will not save our lives,but hearing him out just might.”

General Bradley said low,

“I had no idea, son. But here onOmaha Beach, we’re too pinned down to help you even if we could march 3oo milesin a day.”

I sighed, “Days ago, I promised Iwould help you and that Ranger unit being picked apart some distance from you.I will do what I can for you and for them.”

Roosevelt whispered, “But what willyou do for you?”

Helen Mayfair whispered from mymemory, and I repeated aloud with her:

“And how can man die better thanfacing fearful odds, for the ashes of his fathers, and the temples of his Gods?”

I clicked the radio off.

THE STARS DO NOT CARE

 

Major Richard Blaine discovers a bit more about himself and two of his Spartans 

and discovers the hardest thing to explain is the glaringly evident that everyone has decided not to see.

THE STARS DO NOT CARE

“There was an indifference aboutwar, a lack of interest in you and your little life. It changed the wayeverything looked and felt. You had to struggle to make things matter, to make youmatter.”

– Nurse Rachel Reynolds

 

Cloverfield frowned, “That performance.What is up with you, mate?”

I shrugged. “Something I learnedin New Orleans. A furious enemy makes more mistakes than a calm one. It gave mean edge sometimes.”

Nurse Reynolds studied me. “No,that is not it. It suddenly hit me as I was watching you. You simply enjoyplayacting.”

Her head abruptly cocked, her luxuriousraven hair slipping out a bit from her Spartan helmet. “I wonder ….”

“Cloverfield, how old does ourmajor appear to you?”

His frown deepened. “Are youimplying our mysterious major is even more mysterious than we thought?”

“James, I do. How old, would yousay?”

He shrugged. 

“I dunno. His faceappears to be the age of Robert Donat in the film, THE GHOST GOES WEST. Irather liked that one better than his THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO.”

He made a face. “Of course, that couldbe because the pretty Gestapo agent sitting beside me tried slipping a knife betweenmy ribs mid-film.”

“Almost thirty, then.”

“Yes. Your point?”

“To me, his face is my littlebrother’s as I said farewell at the docks be … before he ….”

Cloverfield kindly finished forher. “Before he died at Dunkirk. Barely nineteen, was he not?”

She managed to get out one word. “Yes.”

Rachel glared at me. “How old areyou, mister?”

This was getting precariouslyclose to finding out I was maybe twenty. “Old enough to know better; too youngto resist.”

She snapped, “That is no answer.”

“It’s the only one you will getfrom me … except I have no control over how my face appears to others.”

Rachel growled very unladylike, “Iknow that! You were mostly dead when first I saw you. Damn that Sentient!”

Cloverfield’s face became somber.“It may not be Sentient’s doing at all, Luv.”

“What are you blathering onabout?”

“Our major, here, may unconsciouslybe the next step in evolution, a theory of which, up until now, I have beengreatly dubious.”

“You have a theory about a theory?”mocked the nurse.

“Yes. Appalling, is it not? But MI6forces its agents to keep abreast … no terrible pun on your anatomy ….”

I shook my head. “You want tocommit suicide by sergeant-major?”

“Get on with it!” snapped Rachel.

“Oh, yes. MI6 wants its agents toknow about advancements in science. 

But if you ask me, all their woolgatheringseems more like breakdowns in logic rather than breakthroughs.”

“James!”

“Bother. Well, evolution wouldhave us believe all of nature has been climbing from lesser to greater. But the2nd Law of Thermodynamics tells us that nature left to itselfdegrades not upgrades.”

“You came up with this loony thoughtjust when?” scoffed Nurse Reynolds.

Cloverfield smiled wide like aNew Orleans mayor campaigning for reelection.

“Why, during the third S of the ThreeS’s of Espionage, of course.”

He counted them off on thefingers of his left hand. “Sex ….”

Rachel groaned aloud.

“Shoot-outs and … stake-outs.”

She sneered, “You think duringstake-outs?”

“It hurts, but … yes.”

I was enjoying their banter, but Ihad to ask her. “What does this have to do with my age?”

She wheeled on me. “Your immaturityyou exhibited just now might get us all killed one day!”

All amusement dropped from Cloverfield’sface like a stone.

“Like it got you killed when,dying on his feet, he took on two trained OSS killers to buy you a chance toescape?”

His face screwed up so that itscared me.

“Like it got us all killed aboardthe Rocinante when he kept firing that damnable gun though it cost himhis hands?”

His gray eyes flashed hot.

“Like it got us all killed as weraced across the death-trap of Omaha Beach?”

He stepped slowly towards her.

“Like his immaturity got us allkilled when he kept our heads together in that ‘Tunnel/Not-Tunnel,’watching over us as we slept?”

Rachel grew as pale as thepromises of politicians up for a lame-duck office. 

But she didn’t back up.

I cleared my throat. “James. JamesHerbert Cloverfield!”

I knew from Sentient that hehated his middle name.

He turned to me, his eyesclearing as if coming out of a trance.

I smiled drily. “You kill her,and you’ll be denying yourself the pleasure of seeing our unflappable nursetruly, deeply flapped.”

Rachel cleared her own thickthroat. “I don’t do ‘flapped,’ Richard.”

Richard? So, she did realize howclose she had been to fighting for her life.

I almost smiled for real.

“When earlier I grew concernedabout our nurse being the only female in a group of rowdy males, Sentient said shewould handle it.”

Rachel started to look moreconcerned than when Cloverfield had been advancing on her.

“Did she say how?” They bothasked as one.

I shook my head. “No. But I caughtquick flashes of two faces.”

Again, they spoke as one, “Whose?”

“Helen Mayfair and the contractassassin turned nun, Sister Ameal.”

“Oh, bloody hell!” They bothgroaned.

 

“If Light is in your heart, youwill always find your way back home.”

– Rabbi Amos Stein