Life as a New Hire Ch. 48

The Coils? Let's just say in the future Cabinda would have embassies around the globe and if occasionally they wanted someone to slip through under diplomatic cover ~ they were good for it. And if the Cabindans ever needed help in the future they knew they had friends in dark places who were now invested in Cabinda's survival. It was a win-win-win ... unless you were an Angolan big-wig, or one of their foot-soldier currently serving in Cabinda. Amazons weren't big on taking prisoners, or even giving the opposition the option of giving up.

For me, it wasn't lunch yet and here I was plotting to overthrow yet another government in yet another country ~ though in only two, small provinces this time. Thank the Goddess I had the rest of the week off. I wasn't sure the Globe could survive me working another four damn days.

"Wait," I back-tracked. "What was that you said about Moldavia?" and I had spoken too soon. Off I went, pushing things one more step toward Ragnarök-and-Roll ... again.

[A QUICK HISTORICAL ASIDE]

If you are still thinking Amazons and visualizing any of a number of representations by DC Comics, you are way off base ~ especially concerning the Amazons of Africa. They had been historically genetically homogenous for most of their earlier history being Hittite with a continuing admixtures of Indo-European folks. Around 500 C.E. things began to change in a serious way.

The Western Roman Empire was succumbing to Germanic invasions and civil disorder. Just as bad from the Amazon point of view, it was becoming Christian. The 4th, 5th and 6th century Christians were an internally violent lot - witness the 'Christian' destruction of the 'pagan' Library of Alexandria - one of the greatest collections of lore and writings of the Ancient World destroyed by a mindless, frothing, religiously intolerant mob.

So, when the Amazon Diaspora began, they weren't just fleeing the barbarian Germans, they were fleeing Roman orthodoxy which was grinding down all pagan beliefs within the 'safe' zones of the Empire. It was Christianity which drove the Amazons who departed for Egypt down the Nile past the southern Roman frontier and farther still. The squabbling successor states to the Kingdom Monroe were unhealthy yet the Bantu expansion eastward provided opportunities in their wake.

Departing the White Nile, those six houses crossed over into the Chari River Basin and its Sao Civilization. By the 6th century CE, the Sao were quit old and established. In some ways similar to the Slavic folks of Eastern Europe, they were loosely organized ~ more a cultural union than a monolithic empire, so the Amazons scooted around to the south of these people (to the north was the Sahel) and set up shop. They wanted to live in isolation, not in the middle of nowhere. They appreciated civilization as much as the next guy, or gal.

The Bantu-speaking folks already had a tradition of the 'Twa' ~ Forest People. Normally the Twa were social inferiors and Pygmies (though we don't call them that anymore). Traditionally the Twa provided meat via hunting for the agrarian Bantu farmers. The Twa were also were rather 'put upon' and treated as 'less than' by their 'civilized neighbors. The Amazons gave the true Twa 'teeth', becoming hybridized-female Forest Demon leopardesses ... prides of leopardesses who brooked no intruders, or mistreatment of themselves and their unobtrusive cohabitants.

The Amazons provided meat, furs and other animal products for goods they needed - things like iron ingots because the Amazons always retained their weapon-crafting and armorer skills. Disease did kill off a good number of the original Amazons and wiped out their entire Asiatic horse stock. It would be five hundred years before the African sisters would remount on steeds introduced by traders and conquerors spreading the World's newest monotheistic religion - Islam.

The important thing was that after five generations if you bumped into a troupe of Amazons on a trail, or on a boat on a river, outside of an odd eye color, or perhaps a mildly lighter skin complexion, you - the African native - were looking at someone who could be from the next village over, or perhaps the tribe over the mountain, or upriver. You still might find five, or six, armed women without male company odd, but their melanin level wasn't going to be a problem.

{TILL TOUCH DOWN BRINGS ME 'ROUND AGAIN TO FIND I'M NOT THE MAN THEY THINK I AM AT HOME ~

SIR ELTON HERCULES JOHN}

{7:31 pm, Monday, September 8th ~ Last day}

{The Roof of Havenstone HQ; New York City}

I pushed the ritual hood aside - the one I used to gather the smoke up from the embers to add my tears to those contributed by my Isharan Sisters. I was inducting five more new, flesh & blood warriors into our ranks and calling upon our Ancestors to escort twenty-one to the Halls of Paradise which awaited those loyal to the Goddess and her dictates. Eighteen had been the unheralded ghosts of now former-Runners from the Amazons' past. The other three ...

Dead in Japan. There had been an ambush yesterday. Those three gave their lives so the rest of their party - ninjas mostly - could escape a trap set by proxies of the Seven Pillars. It was the price they paid for my promises ... yet three more were already champing at the bit to get on a plane and replace them. They were our first War Dead in sixteen hundred years and I wanted to make sure our Ancestors would be ready for them.

I read off the last name ~ Maribel Custer Ishara ... 31 ... my Sister. I burned the script with her name upon it, mixed the ashes with our blood and tears and commended her name and deeds to those who waited for us beyond this life and to our Goddess ~ Dot Ishara. I finished pulling back the cloth, letting it fall to my shoulder and then stood. To my right was Buffy, to my left was Helena ... and across the brazier from me was Hayden.

I choked, nearly stumbling forward into the embers.

"Hayden?"

"Yes, Cáel," she smiled. "I have come to tell you 'we are with you'."

"With me?" I mumbled. I caught Buffy's worried look. Of course, Hayden was a ghost so none of the assembly could see her, or hear her.

"You have our support in what you are doing ... what is known, and what is not so well known," she gave me a prescient look.

"Even if ..." I left the threat to reality hanging there.

"Yes. That is why they sent me. The fabric of the Weave has started to unravel and the Goddesses do not wish to confront this growing danger. They have grown overly cautious by necessity yet we ~ the Ancestors ~ have voted and decided bolder action is needed," she counselled.

Voted? Thousands upon thousands of those who had proceeded us were so concerned about the fates of their living descendants and those yet to be born they had felt compelled to gather and ... vote ... but for what precisely? And why tell me and not the augurs?

...

Because ...

Krasimira wasn't the firebrand, I was.

Krasimira wasn't on the Council, I was.

I was the one romantically and sexually involved with two of the three members of the Regency, not her.

Finally, when I relayed this conversation to Aya, she wouldn't have a single doubt about my motivations plus the Ancestors couldn't communicate with Aya. The Ancestors could find ways to chat with me because of what Alal had done to me ~ turning his weapon against the Host to their own use. How appropriate.

Still ... shit ... didn't I have enough on my plate already?

...

Apparently not and Hayden hadn't come all the way back from Death to watch me mentally dawdle. Of all Amazons now deceased, she had the clearest experience witnessing my dedication to OUR Race no matter what the cost to myself, to my morality, and the spiritual and emotional penalties I'd have to pay. I had to keep forging ahead.

"Will there be any help on your end?" I inquired.

"Yes, but we must be careful. You are a subject of concern for several of the Goddesses," she warned me. She was also letting me know the Ancestors, within some nebulous limitations, were wishing to risk their matron deities' ire to do something about this looming crisis.

"Craptastic," I muttered darkly.

"You saw how ... perturbed Istustaya and Papaya where when you noticed their appearance as Tadêfi made her most recent predictions?"

"Yes."

"Cáel?" Buffy touched my shoulder.

"I'm okay," I addressed her while keeping eye contact with Hayden's specter. I was afraid if I looked away she might vanish. "Hayden has returned to give me counsel."

The mortal hush around me was truly telling. For the assembly, Hayden was the only High Priestess they had ever known - their Absolute Authority. I had killed her. No one had disguised that. My confrontation had led her to some personal crisis, to her decree which led to the death of the worst of the Runner-hating, hardcore Traditionalists leadership ... and to her own trip to the cliffs.

Before her demise, she had shorn her hair and renounced her membership in House Anahit thus dying Houseless ~ like virtually every other Runner. At the hour of her passing, I had defied even the Goddess Ishara herself to bring her into our House ... so now Hayden was one of our Honored Dead - an Isharan. The true reason Dot Ishara allowed Hayden in wasn't something I had shared with many others. Sharing it with everyone wouldn't have helped anyone - even me.

"Yes," I related to Hayden. "How did you know this?"

"The fate of our children is of great concern to us," she gave her pantheress' smile. "For many of my Sisters it has been a long term concern."

"Oh ... I can understand that. I noticed."

"What can we do?" the deceased High Priestess offered.

"Do? Aren't you in your designated reward?"

"Yes, but we are alive, just not here ~ in this reality."

I had a blasphemous brainstorm.

"Can you gather a party of our best hunters and send them into the Endless Black Sands?" I blurted out. I regretted doing so immediately. These were my Honored Dead I was talking about. Each had already given their all for my House and my Host in their lifespan.

"Yes ... it is possible," Hayden frowned ... in concentration ... as if she was in communication with others beyond my own supernatural perceptions.

"Can you find Artimpasa of Anahit?"

"Who is she?"

"The twin sister of Sērkuēn of Anahit, also known as Shammuramat, Queen of Assyria and currently called Sakuniyas. Sērkuēn killed her sister ... in a bad way and I suspect she has been denied her place in the Halls of Anat for her actions."

"By what thread would the Daughters of Ishara find her? After so many centuries, are you sure she has somehow survived?"

Hate carried Ajax and his warriors. Hate carried Shammy. Could ... love do any less? If you believed love was as strong as, if not stronger than, hate then I had to hope the love for her sister and worry Artimpasa had for her exiled twin might have kept her going all this time. How to find her though? Then I felt stupid for asking.

"Could an augur transition an object, or objects, from this World across the Weave to the Ancestors?" I inquired of Hayden.

"I would have to ask," she nodded grimly. "What do you have in mind?"

"Saku's gear comes from the other side - from the Black Sands. She will gift you/us with some arrows."

"We will find a way to chat again when you come back from the Great Hunt. Oh, and Cáel?"

"Yes?"

"Please tell Katrina 'my love for you has never been stronger' ~ those precise words and ..."

"And?"

"Don't embarrass us," she chided me. The Great Hunt. Gee, thanks ladies.

"Wasn't planning on it. I've got a strategy all figured out - something they'll never see coming."

The ghost rolled her eyes. As she turned away, her form faded into the night sky and I was left with thirty-seven of my very mortal sisters who had been gifted with only my side of our conversation. Oh joy.

[NOW BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED STORY]

{10:30 pm [CDT], Monday, September 8th ~ Last day}

I was staring at the screen of my laptop. After the death of my Father and the litany of my oncoming offspring, this was probably the most traumatic event of my life. Okay, I should tack on the whole 'bringing the Cosmic Dragon back from the dead' and my own possible immortality to the list, but this was ... bad.

"Ishara?" Juanita caught wind of my worry. We were on a Havenstone jet winging our way to Chicago. Tomorrow I had to clean up some of my Father's affairs before heading off to wherever House Epona had stashed Felix.

"What's wrong?"

"I ... ah ..."

She came across the aisle and looked from my pale features to the screen.

"What is that?"

"Quarterly Earnings Reports," I responded.

"We made that much? Seems good," she put a hand on my shoulder.

"No. That is House Ishara's share of Havenstone's projected 3rd Quarter Earnings. It just hit my corporate bank account."

"Oh ..."

"Yeah."

"What are you going to ... do with it?"

"It is forty-three million dollars?" I grunted. "What the fuck ... well, I guess I should purchase House Ishara a freehold, or two for starters." Actually it was $43,285,825.

"What's that?" she pointed to another stream of figures.

"Oh, that's our net worth," I informed her. "House Ishara. Havenstone has $732.3 billion in assets and a net worth of $308 billion. 'We' are only worth 0.9259% of that so $2,851,772,000."

"Oh."

"That's a few bills under $18 million per Isharan. Congrats, you are a multi-millionaire," I teased her. "Technically $272,000 of the money warming my bank account is yours too."

"oh," she repeated in a really small voice. "I don't actually get paid," she gave me a funny stare. "I have an expense account."

Of course she didn't get paid. None of them did. They were part of a fanatic, insular cult. I was an oddity due to my maleness and 'New Directive' hire status.

[... AND NOW BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED DIVERSION]

For the first time in my life I sent definite word to my 'Brother', the Great Khan. My Spirit and Mind were joined on the liberation of Cabinda ~ I wanted this done. I absolutely knew I was sending forces in motion which would lead to untold human suffering and I felt ABSOLUTELY sure doing nothing was the worst choice.

Screw it all, after sitting through the British briefing from 'suppressed' sources inside the Portuguese government, I wanted to free all 23 million Angolans, but that wasn't going to happen, so I was going to save the roughly 600,000 Cabindans and 500,000 Bakongo in Zaire if I had to go see to it in person and make sure the 400,000 living in exile could return home.

In response, my Brother began calling people ~ starting with the Prime Minister of India, Narendra Damodardas Modi, and General Secretary of the Communist Party of Vietnam, Nguyễn Phú Trọng - personally. Those calls cascaded. The PM of India, after head-butting with some cabinet members, called his counter-part in ... Brazil.

Brazil was the leading power in the Lusosphere (Portuguese-speaking countries), she was right across the Atlantic from Cabinda/Angola and her proximity would become a huge factor if Angola became pugnacious. The Brazilian Navy was sizeable and her Air Force capable. If Brazil decided to oppose this territorial usurpation things could get nasty quickly, so Brazil had to be convinced to sit on the sidelines ... at least temporarily.

Vietnam's GS Trọng, after some brief consultations, began making his own diplomatic overtures. Why? Imagine for a second being any small, poor country in the United Nations who wasn't a Permanent Member of the Security Council and didn't have veto-power.

And you have lived with this 'inequality' for 70 years.

And you woke up a month ago and suddenly you WERE a PERMANENT COUNCIL MEMBER of a New Global Body which valued your input and opinions.

The Great Khan couldn't tell the General Secretary precisely what was going on, but he promised to have a team fly down to him within 48 hours to explain everything in person because unwelcome people were 'listening in' which was the damn truth. So, GS Trọng began reaching out to every Marxist, Communist and Socialist in Europe, Africa and South America who would listen. The top country on his list? Cuba.

No, he wasn't asking for Cuba to become involved in Angola again as the Soviets had done back in the 1970's. That would be ... awkward. Instead, GS Trọng was asking his "Old Buddy", Raúl Castro, President and 1st Secretary of the Communist Party of Cuba to put in his good offices with ...

[GOOD MORNING, HAVANA]

Raúl: "Comrade Nguyễn, long time, no see. (In fact, I can't ever recall seeing you) Precisely why are you calling me at ... 3 a.m. your time? The current retrograde revisionist direction of our inevitable victory got you down?"

Nguyễn: "Quite the contrary, Comrade Raúl. In fact, an opportunity has arisen to strike a blow against the Old World Order, Comrade. Can I count on you?"

Raúl: "Oh ... ummmm ... if you take into account I've heard this ugly rumor you are about to kick our fellow 'Brothers in the Struggle' [the People's Republic of China] in the testes in collusion with these jumped-up autocratic, religious fundamentalist fanatic Reactionaries from Central Asia and the always doctrinally-dicey Indians ... what do you have in mind?"

Nguyễn: "All I need you to do is lend the gravitas of your leadership to a bit of backroom diplomacy, Comrade. I understand you are on speaking terms with those presently in charge of Brazil, despite their questionable adherence to Marxist-Leninist purity."

Raúl: "Hmmm ... beyond the linguistic reality Spanish and Brazilian Portuguese are not mutually intelligible ... something could be arranged. Please continue."

Nguyễn: "I need you to contact the President of Brazil and request her agreement for diplomatic and logistic intervention to a freedom-fighting victory we are about to experience on the African continent."

Raúl: "A victory? Really? Where?"

Nguyễn: "Sorry. We both know the USA's CIA and the NSA are crawling all over your communications networks like the smoke wafting off of one of your Havana's Finest."

Raúl: "Ain't that the damn truth. Still, what do you want me to ask her for?"

Nguyễn: "Just to be prepared to back India's play, no matter how bizarre it might appear at first. Also, let her know we've got her back militarily if it comes to a confrontation with the forces of Global Imperialism and post-colonial aggression."

Raúl: "Wow ... that sounds ... ugly. What's in it for us?"

Nguyễn: {pause} "WORKERS OF THE WORLD UNITE!"

Raúl: {looks at his phone suspiciously} "No really - what's going on?"

Nguyễn: "I already said I can't tell you the details right now. I guarantee this will help advance the struggle of World Communism."

Raúl: "Nice to know. And?"

Nguyễn: "Has your fervor for the Cause dampened, Comrade?"

Raúl: "I know for a fact you get your suits from Brookes Brothers, Comrade. I just found out my nephew's yacht needs an extensive engine overhaul and the Venezuelan outfit which used to do the work closed up shop last month ..."

Nguyễn: "Ah ... we'll, given two years my economic experts have informed me we, as in the hard-working people of Vietnam ..."

Raúl: "Get on with it."

Nguyễn: "Upwards of ten MILLION Central Asians A YEAR will start visiting our burgeoning tourist industry ..."

Raúl: "Been there - done that during the Cold War."

Nguyễn: "NO! These people will have MONEY! The Reactionary Khanate will be paying their workers Free Market salaries! We are talking real currency too - not those crappy, Soviet-era rubbles you couldn't wipe your ass with."

Raúl: "Great Lenin's Ghost! You had better not be lying to me, Comrade Nguyễn. If you could send five ..."

Nguyễn: "Two!"

Raúl: "Three!" (I just DOUBLED my tourism industry!!)