Chapter 25

Nichols was the last one to board. McKenna checked him off his list, and the two of them pulled up the loading ramp and sealed it shut. “Everything is ready. Green from loadmaster.”

“Green from copilot.”

“We are go.” Davis slid the throttles up and the turbines began to wind up from the slow idle they had maintained on the ground. The propeller blades sped up as the power was increased, and dust began to rise from the desert floor as the downwash from jets and blades began to lift the aircraft back into the sky.

Sterling smiled as the two trucks cleared the pass. “And there are the ones following our feline friend, Major. A day late and a dollar short.”

Davis chuckled. “Now if this was Hollywood, we'd be lifting off barely a few seconds ahead of them, with bullets flying – but managing to miss anything vital – and the last man aboard jumping into the back of the plane while we took off.”

“The last man being the hero of the piece, of course. And probably going airborne with the ramp still down. I've seen movies where they have -airliners- taking off with open doors and ramps. And those birds can't actually fly that way.”

Davis shook his head as the Osprey pivoted away from the oncoming technicals and the rotors began to tilt down to flight position. “This is why I don't watch action movies. Too much stupid.”

“Speaking of stupid, I see muzzle flashes. Apparently they don't know they're out of range.”

“They could get lucky. I'll turn the plane back over to you as soon as the props are back to level flight, Captain.”

* * * *

Yasmina could feel the rumbling of the airplane's engines through the floor as she made her way toward the front. The pilots sat at the very front of the craft, their seats slightly raised above the cargo deck but not otherwise separated from the passengers. The one on the right was a bat, just as the Sorceress had told her, and... she flicked her tongue out, tasting the air. The bat was a -woman-, wearing the uniform of an officer and chatting back and forth with the other pilot as an equal, or perhaps even his superior. She smiled to herself and turned to help her mother settle her younger sisters into their seats. <The imams were right about that. They -do- let their women do whatever they want, and the Lady Sorceress did not even think to mention that, as if it was so natural as to not bear mentioning. I think I will be much happier living with the Americans.>

* * * *

“You were very fortunate indeed that you did -not- catch up with him, Sergeant.”

“But he was an apostate! A demon in the form of a cat!”

“And the Americans have many such. One more will not change their power, and interfering could have cost us the supplies they are sending.” Sayeed paced back and forth in front of Ashwar's squad, while his own people stood guard and Hafez worked on interpreting what tracks remained after the Osprey's takeoff. “Besides, if you had gotten here before the Americans left... They would have sent one of their elite groups on such a mission. Need I remind you of the tale of the jackal who caught the lion?”

“They are not all-powerful, Captain.”

“No? They crushed the Iraqis in three months with help from the rest of their allies. When they did it again by themselves a few years later, it only took them one. Think about that, Ashwar. They are warriors of such skill that allies -slow them down-. And you wanted to interfere with one of their elite units?”

“But-!”

“No. If you had caught up to Isam, you would most likely be dead, and your squad with you, and you would not have achieved anything.” He shook his head. “Take your squad and go back to town. Mazin? Take squads three and four and go with them. I'll keep one truck and Abdullah's squad and come back with Hafez as soon as he can tell me what happened here.”

* * * *

The old hunter waited until Ashwar and the other squads had left before approaching Sayeed. “There is something you should see, effendi. I would suggest you leave the rest here.”

“The snake's lair is known now. Any secrets within will not remain so for long.”

“Perhaps not, Captain, but I still think you should see this first.”

“In'sh'allah. I will come. Abdullah, keep a guard posted until I get back.”

Hafez gestured toward the gap in the rocks and walked toward it. Sayeed followed. “There were at least two snakes, effendi. One large, whose trail I have seen before. And one smaller, perhaps a child. The most recent tracks, though... In addition to the snakes, six soldiers came this way. Five were normal men, but the sixth...” He pointed out the traces to the officer. “This one was bigger than the others, and his boots are not the normal shape. One of the demon-spawn. And here we see that they made deeper impressions on the way out than on the way in. They carried something, and made at least two journeys out to their aircraft.”

“Any idea what it might have been?”

“That is why I asked you to come alone, effendi.” He led the way deeper into the cavern. “Someone has built a bunker here, and one of the rooms...” The yellow and violet trefoil on the wall above the empty hollows told the entire story. “The sign of atomic weapons, effendi. Whether this place was built by Assad or by the Iraqis, whatever they left here is now in the hands of the Americans.”

“The Americans have had their own atomic weapons for seventy years, and have used them only twice, both times against enemies who attacked them without warning. The other nuclear powers have never yet used theirs at all. Better they should have them than someone who would use them and bring the wrath of one of those powers on us. And the Islamic Council, I think, would do just that, believing their plans to be the will of Allah. But Allah has already punished them for such arrogance, and I do not believe that using these weapons would have ended well for our people. Better that such as the Council are not tempted by such things.”

Hafez shrugged. “I am but a simple hunter, effendi. It is not for me to say.”

“At any rate. What about Isam?”

“He came from the south, accompanied by another demon, in the form of a large animal whose tracks I do not recognize. They were heading straight for the place where the aircraft was, and the takeoff blew away any tracks left near it. But none of his prints lead away. He left with them.”

“You are sure of that?”

The old hunters huffed a brief laugh. “Unless he sprouted his own wings and flew away. And if he could do that, he would not have walked here.”

“That is an end to it, then. We shall return to our homes, and hope that we can survive the displeasure of the Council with the help of the American weapons.”

Hafez nodded. “In'sh'allah.”

* * * *

The Osprey was eighty kilometers past the coast and barely one hundred meters above the water when Sterling turned the controls over to Davis. “And now we can climb up out of the ground clutter and not suddenly appear on everyone's radar.”

“Works for me, ma'am. What happens to our passengers and cargo when we get back to the Iwo Jima?”

“You will be taking the refugees back to the mainland on your way back to Rammstein. The warheads, I suspect, will be lifted out by COD after they're checked out and safed. And I get to go back to... where I was before, and make a few more stealthy deliveries to our friends in Al-Suwar. To be honest, I prefer aircraft that don't handle like buses with wings, but you do what you must.”

“Hey, the Osprey handles pretty nicely.”

“This one isn't the bus. The Herky-bird is.”

“Oh, those. Yeah. A bus with wings, all right.”

Sterling grinned. “The '22 is more like a Model T compared to a Stutz-Bearcat.”

“Hey!”

“Ever seen one of the early Fords? I'm not talking about it being a -primitive- design, but a -weird- one. They didn't have a brake. Just a reverse gear, with a band transmission. To stop it, you shoved it into reverse. But if you left it there too long, of course, you'd start backing up...”

“You're kidding.”

“Nope. Look it up.”

“And the Stutz?”

“Normal controls and one of the first high-end sports cars. Comparing this to a fighter is about right.”

Davis thought about it. “All right, I can see that. Seriously, Ford didn't use brakes in...? ” He paused, listening to his headset. “Vigil 2, confirm this is Buccaneer returning to base. Code Seven Quebec Whisky Fife Niner Tango.”

* * * *

Yasmina felt the change shortly after take-off. Something settled around the strange airplane, magic that felt still and silent in spite of the racket being made by the engines. They'd settled her at one of the few windows in the rear of the craft, but flying through the night left little to see. She stared at the leopard for a while, and then dozed off for a bit, curled up with her sisters while their mother sat between them and the soldiers.

She woke up as the sound of the engines changed. One of the soldiers nodded to her and pointed at the window, so she turned to peer out again. A moment later, she was poking her sisters awake. “Tali, Fatima, wake up! Look!” Outside were the ships of the Iwo Jima's task group, steaming through the night and glowing with running lights and landing lights. “So much water! And such huge ships!” The four of them peered out the windows, watching in fascination as the Osprey turned into the wind and settled down on the flight deck of the giant vessel. Once again, the engines slowed to idle and the ramp at the rear was lowered.

The Seals picked up the warheads and carried them carefully off of the plane, and the bat got up from her seat and walked back to them. She said something, probably in English, but neither she nor her mother spoke that language. The leopard nodded, but could only make cat-noises in response. “Now what do we do, mother?”

* * * *

Sterling sighed. “Of course. The only one who speaks any English is the one who can't talk before dawn. Should've had Jefferson stay.” Her mirror chimed and she fished it out of her pocket.

Lowe grinned up at her from the surface. “I see you made it back to the fleet. Davis is going to take them on to Brindisi, and from there either to Rammstein or Faya-Largeau, depending where they want to go. You can head back to Incirlik from Brindisi to finish up the airdrops to our friends in Syria.”

“They do look a bit nervous. I assume you want to talk to them?”

“I do. Pass the mirror over to them, would you?”

* * * *

Yasmina watched as the bat spoke to the mirror. She recognized the voice of the Lady Sorceress, even though she could not understand the words, and then the bat turned the mirror around to face them. “Welcome to the USS Iwo Jima, Yasmina, Farrah. We're going to send you on to Brindisi in Italy, where you will be met by representatives of the Princedom of the High Desert and the United States, who will discuss where you wish to go.” She chuckled. “They're married, actually, which makes it easier to send both of them than to just have Lieutenant Foster meet with you. Do you have any questions before you take off again?”

“What will happen to the bombs?”

“I suspect they are going to be -very- carefully dismantled, Yasmina. We have enough of our own, and we know how they work, so there is no reason to take chances with these. The important thing was to make sure they did not end up in the hands of the ISIL fanatics, and that has been accomplished.”

“And what will become of us after we have decided where we shall live in exile?”

“Partly it will depend on where you go, Farrah. If you should choose to come to America, you will be given assistance in learning to fit in, the young ones will be given schooling, and eventually we will find you work to earn your own living. I would assume that Prince Haroun's government would offer something similar, though I cannot speak for him.”

“My Lady... would it be possible... could I...” The wolf nodded, waiting for the older snake to decide what she wanted to say. “You have done so much for us already, but... would it be possible for me to receive schooling as well as my daughters?”

The wolf blinked, surprised for a moment before suppressing it. “I.. certainly, if that is what you would wish.”

Yasmina was grinning from behind her mother. “Yes! Learn for yourself what the Q'ran says, not what someone else tells you it says.”

Farrah hugged her oldest daughter into her side. “She is young, but she is already wise. I would like to take her advice.”

Lowe smiled. “I think that is a very good idea, myself. Education is never wasted.” She turned her attention to the leopard. “We are sending a few folks along on the trip up to Italy, and they'll be bringing supplies with them. Would you prefer Western clothes or...” The leopard nodded vigorously. “Western it shall be. And how about food? What would you all like to eat? Given your forms, I suggested that they might want to bring fried chicken, but if you would prefer something else I'll see if I can arrange it...?”

The refugees looked at each other, and back to the mirror. No one objected. “Chicken it is, then.” She switched back to English. “If you'll pass that on, Shadow?”

“Director, you keep forgetting that you're the only polyglot around here. Pass what on?”

“Ah, right. Heh. Sorry... Chicken for their in-flight meal, breakfast pastries are okay but no ham or bacon, please, not for -anyone- on the flight. Some Western-style clothes for the leopard, he'll need them when he shifts back to human. Dawn, I assume.”

“I don't suppose you have his sizes?”

“Nope. I know he's not -too- big. Have 'em bring a variety. Or maybe something loose, like sweats.”

“Got it. Seeya on the flip side.”

* * * *

The Osprey remained on Iwo Jima's flight deck long enough to refuel and allow the ground crew they'd brought with them to run an abbreviated checklist. The ground crew then boarded the plane for the flight back to Italy, joined by a few language specialists and a pair of female Marines to keep the snakes from being nervous about being in close proximity to so many strange men. The last arrivals brought a pack of clothing and several pounds of fried chicken, along with coffee, tea, and pastries for breakfast. They lifted off an hour before dawn, heading northwest to pass between Turkey and Cyprus before turning west to Brindisi.

Sterling had moved back to the passenger area, quite happy to leave the Osprey to its normal crew now that there was no need for stealth. Yasmina stared as she settled into an inverted resting position, dangling by her feet from a strut at the peak of the cabin. She glanced back at the young snakeling as she chattered to one of the interpreters, and the young sailor cleared his throat. “Captain, would you mind talking to Yasmina? She wants to ask some questions.”

“I suppose. I'm not doing anything else at the moment.”

“Thank you, ma'am. She wants to know how you are a pilot and an officer. Her culture - “

Sterling nodded. “Treats females as chattel, and changelings as sub-human. I'm aware.”

“I wouldn't have put it that way, ma'am...”

“Maybe not, but being both doesn't give me a lot of patience with their bigotry. Tell her the truth – women are allowed, though not encouraged, to join the military in America, and Changelings are as well accepted as any other minority, although it was rough at first. It -did- rather take everyone by surprise, after all.”

Yasmina waited for the translation. “But how does she command respect, Pet-ty-off-ser Nathan? She is tiny, smaller than my sisters who are still just children.”

He didn't translate that one, but answered it himself. “Her size isn't important. She has proven she can do her job well over the years, which is how she gained high rank. The very fact that she holds that rank tells people who have not met her that she is probably worthy of their respect, and as long as she doesn't prove that she does -not- deserve it, they will follow her orders. It is a cultural thing for we Americans, or at least for those of us in the military.”

“And it does not bother men to follow the orders of a woman?”

“Mostly not. There are a few who complain in private, but even the ones who dislike the idea still do so. Besides, many of our best pilots became flying Changelings. The fact that she did so increases the respect shown her, not the reverse.”

Yasmina thought about that. “Can you ask the Captain what she did when we left Syria? I could feel the magic around the plane.”

Sterling looked surprised at the question. “She -felt- it? Ask her what she felt.”

Translation went back and forth. “She says that it felt as though the plane was wrapped in stillness and silence. A bit poetic, ma'am, but that's what she tells me.”

“Interesting. Ask her to wait to ask that question of the wolf – she will know who you mean – and not to speak of it in the meantime. And -you-, Petty Officer, forget you ever heard that comment.”

“Aye-aye, ma'am.”

Once that had been passed on, another discussion followed. At the end of it, Yasmina addressed the bat directly. “Thenk you, Captain. For bring us to safe places.”

Sterling smiled. “You are most welcome, Yasmina. I wish all of you every happiness in your new lives.” She waited for that to be translated, and for the inevitable back-and-forth of the reply.

“She says that she will pray for your safety, Captain, and, umm...” The petty officer looked nervous. “This is rather personal, ma'am. She asks if she could someday name a daughter after you.”

“Tell her I would be honored. And that my name is Karen.”