Steel Dragon

Part Four

"Security Breach"

The thug slid out of a cross-alley; thirty, maybe forty feet ahead of me, blocking my path. My steps slowed, the sound of shoes scuffing concrete just behind me blasting away my warm drunken haze on an icy torrent of adrenaline.

I felt my lips skinning back from my teeth in a silent snarl as the shadowy shapes converged on me. The rear assault was closest. I crouched, my leg sweeping low as I whirled. One of the attackers behind me had already been lifting the length of pipe he held when he had to leap upwards to clear my leg; almost succeeding, but snagging one foot in a disastrous stumble that entangled his pal for the one blessed moment I needed to close with them.

My right leg shot in under the knife man's guard, the hard edge of my boot catching him in the ribs. I felt several of them go, their jagged ends driving deep as he folded like a rag doll around my foot, flung to the sidewalk by the vicious impact. Attacker number one rolled to his feet just in time to get shovel-kicked in the groin. He jackknifed forward, eyes bulging, hands reaching downwards and out of position as I delivered a shikan-ken punch to his throat, crushing his windpipe.

I spun away from the stricken pair, searching for my third attacker, dimly amazed he hadn't already fallen upon me like a ton of bricks. Instead, he still stood where I'd first seen him, but now his right hand was filled with the heavy-caliber automatic he'd pulled from beneath his jacket.

Too damned far. I lunged for him anyway as the weapon swept upwards, his cold and expressionless eye looking at me over the sights as he centered them on my charging form and thumbed back the hammer. Suddenly that eye blinked, then widened in disbelief as my body began to flux madly, quickly assuming a far different shape as I closed.

There was a blinding flash and a sledgehammer blow that caromed off my armored skull, then my fangs were in his throat, ripping, my talons tearing. . . .

A few moments later I flung the tattered corpse away from me and turned to dispatch the others. I paused in the bloody aftermath to catch my breath and to lick the mess from my fangs and talons, then I concentrated for a moment and soon stood again on two legs. My clothing returned as well; fading back in from that strange, chilly elsewhere shown to me by someone who had shown me a great many other things as well . . .

I shivered in the icy clothes as I looked down at the carnage about me with human eyes, the combination of adrenalin crash and alcohol twisting my guts into knots. I had to get out of there. My hotel wasn't far away, and hopefully I'd get there before the Baltimore cops showed up to ask questions that I'd be hard-pressed to answer.

I straightened my jacket and turned to leave, to find him standing there, about a hundred feet further down the deserted street, watching me. My breath hissed in through clenched teeth as we stared at each other. He was a big man; mid-thirties, short dark-brown hair, dark eyes, hard and lean. Everything about him, from the cut of his clothes to his posture to the stillness of his eyes screamed professional to my jangled nerves. He calmly studied me for several moments more, then turned, and simply walked away.

For a second I stood there in stunned disbelief at his lack of reaction at what he had to have seen. Then I was moving. I scooped up the street punk's automatic from where it had fallen, checking its load as I chased after the eyewitness that could destroy me.

As coolly as you please he turned into yet another alley, momentarily vanishing from sight. I came skidding around the corner seconds later, the pistol coming up in a double-handed Weaver grip as my finger tightened on the trigger, prepared to kill the man the instant he showed in my sights.

The alley was a cul-de-sac; less than twenty feet in depth, abruptly ending in the blank steel wall of a loading dock gate that was closed and locked for the night. . . .

. . . .And there was no one there.

I felt my blood go cold as the questing muzzle of my weapon swung wildly from side to side, searching for the target that had to be there, yet wasn't.

This was just too damn much. I backed out of the alley, then turned and got the hell out of there. After a block or so I finally managed to get myself to slow to a walk, then paused to wipe the automatic clean and stuff it through a sewer grate. Another block, and I appeared to be just another tourist out looking for a good time, but still I doubled and redoubled my trail as I neared the more populous parts of town, searching for that which I knew was now stalking me. Any moment I expected to once again meet the dark, still gaze of that mysterious man or feel the impact of a high-velocity round, but instead was mocked by cold, empty streets.

A thick, wet snow had begun to fall when at last I sighed and sagged against a wall. Damn it, this wasn't over, not by a long shot. But the next move would be his.

Shoulders slumping in defeat I headed for the hotel, and what I knew would be the first of many sleepless nights.

After leaving the Caribbean, my merry mob of madmen and myself had ferried our aircraft up to Fort Lauderdale for a little rest and refit. Austin tore into that pesky #3 engine once again, CW4 Baldwell and his copilot immediately headed for the beach for some serious girl-watching, and I immediately went to get some serious food. A few days, a busted-open cattle car, and a hasty trip to Sears for a winter jacket later we were once again trundling down the runway, this time headed for Baltimore.

Baltimore is a rather nice town during most seasons, but during the winter it seems to take on this vague sense of sadness that I find myself at a loss to explain. We landed at the Martin State municipal strip just north of that somber city, and on the insistence of the pilots we headed downtown, where we got ourselves lodgings at the Lord Baltimore Hotel.

It was an extremely nice place, if more than a little old, and the staff was amazing. Unfortunately it was also extremely expensive, and lodging costs began to gobble up my budget at an alarming rate. After two days of fidgeting on my part it finally was time to ship my two pilots back south, and I cheerfully drove them to the main airport and bid them a fond farewell.

I had driven scarcely a hundred feet before my eyes caught sight of someone waving. I blinked in astonishment, then gave someone in a minivan a near-heart attack as I swerved across traffic to screech to a halt in the drop-off lane. I hopped out with a silent prayer to the great tow-truck god in the sky, then walked rapidly toward the familiar form.

"Pasqual?"

That lithe shape hurried towards me, brown hair flying, her dark eyes wide with pleased astonishment. "Michael! What are you doing here?"

I smiled as I looked down into her face. "I was about to ask you the same thing. Me? I'm here on business." I cocked my head to one side. "And you? Last I saw you was down in the British West Indies, working at the Club Med."

Her own smile faded, and she dropped her eyes. "I have to go home. My father is ill, and he has asked for me."

For a moment I felt an all-too familiar chill, but I pushed it away. "I'm very sorry to hear that, Pasqual. Is it anything serious?"

She shook her head. "I do not know yet. He is old, and I am not sure if he has very much time left. So every time he coughs, I worry."

I felt my smile returning. "Don't sell older folks short Pasqual; most are tougher than they look. Is your plane leaving soon?"

She looked up at me again, and her eyes danced. "I see that you are feeling better yourself. No--" She caught my arm as I looked away, my cheeks warm. "I am sorry; I did not say that right. But I am also sorry that my plane leaves in just a few minutes. Will you be here long?"

I thought for a moment, then sighed. "I don't know. Several weeks at least; after that it's anyone's guess. Here--" I fished a card out of my pocket and handed it to her. "We're working out of a hangar just north of here. Call me if you come this way again."

"I will." She glanced up at the clock, gave me a quick kiss and a smile, then vanished into the airport crowd. I stared after her for a long moment, then smiled to myself. Things were definitely looking up.

Returning to the hotel, I promptly began to pack. I'd found a far cheaper place close by, and this would be my last night at the Lord Baltimore. To celebrate my rescue from impending penury I headed out for a little wining and dining. . . .

. . . .And that's where everything came crashing down.

Morning. I quickly checked out of my hotel, my eyes constantly scanning the lobby as I handed the desk clerk my key. In the underground garage I paused just long enough to give the rental car a thorough once-over, then got the hell out of town.

Just the other side of the tunnel there's a large Best Western hotel that caters to the tourist and trucking crowd, but was comfortable and clean nonetheless. I parked the rental out of sight of the road and hustled my stuff inside.

Twenty minutes later I shot the bolt on my door, tossed my bags into the corner, and with a loud groan flopped onto the bed. Had I eluded them? Perhaps. But it was safest to assume not. At least here I would have more room to maneuver. A major interstate passed close by, the hotel was backed by a maze of suburban neighborhoods, and my 10th-floor window was high enough to bar intruders, yet also wide enough to provide emergency egress for someone such as myself. The view wasn't half-bad, either.

As I gazed at the Baltimore skyline, I wondered what my witness was up to right now. Had he filed a report with his superiors, or had he let the matter drop? I let a small grim smile crease my features as I thought of my adversary trying to get his boss to swallow such a fantastic tale without being nominated for some serious psychiatric care, and of the second thoughts he'd be having over the entire thing right about now.

Could it be that I was safe? Then perhaps it was for the better that my shadow had eluded me last night. Dragons might be laughed off, but the murder of an agent was something else entirely. A day would have not passed before the streets would have been flooded with the organization's people, all of them with payback on their minds.

I sighed, then looked at my watch. As for myself, the smartest thing to have done would have been to guess on the side of paranoia and leave the area; the entire country, if possible. The second-smartest would have been to lay low here until I could slink quietly away. Unfortunately I had a job to do up here, and not only was I stuck, I was late.

I drove to that little municipal airport again, and after more than a few deliberate false turns and double-backs finally arrived at the hangar owned by our rehab contractor. Inside its heated interior our aircraft was already in pieces scattered across the floor, and workmen swarmed over its partially-dismantled fuselage.

"Hey sarge, I was beginnin' to think you weren't comin' in today."

I looked, and there was Austin my chief mechanic, seated at a picnic table dwarfed by his shaggy bulk and poring over a well-thumbed Grainger catalog. I smiled. "Sorry, but I wanted to change hotels."

"Don't blame you." Austin shook his head as he bent to pencil something into the margin of the catalog. "That place you had there is too rich for my blood, and I ain't poor, neither. Why'd them damn pilots want to stay there?"

I shrugged. "I never got around to asking them. They're gone now, though, so I don't have to nursemaid them anymore."

Austin chuckled, then looked up. "How're you set on money?"

I smiled. "I'm fine. Thanks for asking, though."

He shrugged embarrassedly and went back to his research. I wandered over to the plane and went aboard. Inside, the operator stations had already been stripped, and now several techs were working to remove the equipment racks. Soon they would be tearing up the deck and opening the bulkheads, and then the work would really begin.

I threaded my way through the mess, finally reaching a steel foot locker that was bolted to the floor just aft of the copilot's bulkhead. I pulled out a key and opened its massive lock, fishing out a laptop computer and, after much thought, several other items that I stuffed into my coat.

I climbed out of the plane and grabbed a spot at Austin's picnic bench, where I quickly cleared space amidst the paperwork and set up my laptop.

"What's up, sarge?"

"Hm? Oh. You remember those reports I used to do out in Mojave? Well, the Powers That Be liked them so much, they asked me to start doing them again here." I pecked away at the little keyboard. "Seems some people are a lot more comfortable, and ask a lot fewer questions, when they have a wad of paper to show the big boys."

Austin snorted. "Ain't that the truth. Hey, what're you doing for lunch?"

"Unpacking. Again. What do you have in mind?"

Austin made a face, then grinned. "Well, I know this place up the road that makes a pretty mean lunch. Cheap, too."

"Hm." I typed a few more lines in, then paused. "My stuff isn't going anywhere, so maybe I'll take you up on that, Austin."

"Good. Noon sound good to you?"

"No problem."

"It's a deal, then."

Twenty minutes later I was finished with my report. I hooked the laptop up to a phone line, and a few minutes later the report was on my boss's desk in the Republic of Panama. I then stowed the computer and headed for the latrine.

Once there, I pulled that other bundle out of my coat and untangled the straps. A few minutes later I checked the load, then slid the M9 into the concealed shoulder rig and readjusted my coat.

That day passed uneventfully, as did the next one. The sullen weight of the weapon pressing against my side began to feel increasingly unnecessary as I began to hope that I'd somehow managed to elude my hunters, or that they weren't hunting me at all.

Fool.

Late on the evening of the third day there came a soft knock at the door. My hands froze for a moment on the keys of my laptop, then I lunged for the bed and the 9mm that lay upon it.

This wasn't good. There was no reason any of my techs would visit at this time of night, and I'd told no one else the name of my new hotel. A DO NOT DISTURB sign hung on the outside of the door to ward off the staff. I let my hands slide over the weapon, checking the load as my eyes made sure the drapes were closed.

The gentle tapping came again. I took a deep breath and moved to the door, snapping lights off as I went, plunging the room into an ever-deepening gloom. In darkness I peered through the peephole, then stepped to the side of the door, trying with little success to slow my pounding heart as a wave of fear and despair threatened to overwhelm me.

It was him.

Something seemed to shift in the blackness. My head snapped towards that movement, to watch as from within the deathly-deep shadows of the room, golden eyes seemed to regard me soberly for a moment; golden eyes set in opalescent green. I blinked, and they were gone.

Impending madness, or something else? I found myself beyond caring as I stared off into the darkness, the fear being replaced by a certain black joy as I felt a carnivore's grin spread across my face.

Be seeing you soon, baby. . . .

I switched the automatic to my other hand and waited until the knock began once more. When it came, I reached over and released the latch, letting the door pop open perhaps an inch. There was a long pause, then the door was slowly pushed open from the other side.

The door swung open a foot, two, then I was seizing the man's wrist, yanking him forward and off-balance while my knee swept up to bury itself in his gut. He jackknifed with a grunt, still stumbling forward as I continued to twist his arm, then falling as his feet tangled with mine. He hit the floor hard and I piled atop of him, frantically kicking the door closed behind us to delay any backup. Then I had the muzzle of the automatic jammed against the back of his head, and I felt his muscles stiffen as we both heard the click of the hammer going back.

"Don't even breathe."

I ground my knee into his back, pinning his arm as I used my freed hand to search him. Nothing. No weapons, no wires. Puzzled, I eased up a bit on the pressure. "How many in your backup?"

There was a muffled grunt from beneath me as my captive fought for breath. "None. I am alone."

I felt my lips curl back, and rapped the automatic's barrel smartly against his skull. "You take me for an idiot? I want numbers and locations. You stop talking, you stop living."

His breath hissed quietly between his teeth at the pain. "I am alone. I swear it. Brother, I am not your enemy. Please; I have only come to talk."

Brother? My bafflement increased. This definitely wasn't SOP. My curiosity piqued, I pondered for a moment, then abruptly stepped clear of him. "Get up. Slowly." He did so, wisely keeping his hands away from his sides. We eyed each other in the darkness for a moment, then I pointed to a chair in the corner that was well-away from me. "Sit. Turn on the lamp."

He started to reach cross-body for the lamp, concealing his other hand, and immediately my trigger finger began to tighten. He caught himself, though, and used his off hand instead. He gave a small, self-mocking smile at his near-fatal mistake, then he settled back into the chair while I cautiously seated myself on the edge of my desk chair, the muzzle of my weapon centered on his chest.

"So. Talk."

Still smiling, he inclined his head and spoke again with that deep voice, tinged with a Germanic accent that teased at my memories. "Good evening, brother. You may call me Stefan, and I have something I must show you. It is in my left shirt pocket. May I get it?"

I considered for a moment, then jerked my weapon's muzzle. "Left hand. Two fingers. Very slowly."

Gingerly, the stranger withdrew a dark, vaguely semicircular object that glinted dully in the light. I stared at it, a faint roaring like a distant wind beginning in my ears. "Toss it on the floor in front of my feet. Underhand."

The object hit the thick carpet with little sound. Keeping my eyes on my target, I felt about with my free hand, then brought the item up into my line of sight.

It was a scale. Dark green in color and mottled with flecks of black in a pattern that I distantly noted would make it damned difficult to see at night. But what had seized my attention was its size. Over three inches across.

Dragon scale.

Stefan's smile broadened at my expression. "My own, brother."

"I don't know that."

The smile faded slightly, then returned as he shrugged. "It is unimportant; for I know what you are, and even if we assume that I am not what I claim, I know those that are." He nodded toward the scale that I still held in my hand. "I am here to bring you to them."

Well, it would certainly explain how the hell he managed to disappear from that alleyway. . . . I stared at him; his manner, Germanic accent and appearance seething in my mind. I felt an icy chill go through me. "Stasi?"

Stefan's eyes widened for a moment at the name of the dreaded East German secret police, then he smiled once again. "Very good, brother. Yes, once, but they are no more."

"And who do you work for now?"

He laughed quietly. "Those whom I have always worked for in truth. Ourselves." He sobered. "There is an open field perhaps 1500 meters north of the hangar where your aircraft lies. Meet me there after the moon sets tomorrow night, in your true form. From there I will take you to those who can answer all your questions."

He began to slowly rise to his feet, and my weapon snapped up. "I don't believe I gave you permission to move, friend." I snarled.

Stefan smiled. "I have brought my message, and now it is time for me to leave." He glanced at the automatic. "Will you still shoot me? Then you will never have your answers."

I looked at him coldly for a moment, then eased down the hammer and gestured. "Get out."

Still smiling he gave me a slight bow. "Until tomorrow night."

I stared at the door long after he had vanished through it, then slowly laid the automatic down. I uncurled my stiff fingers from the grip of the weapon, then wiped my sweaty palm on my trousers as my thoughts chased each other around in circles.

Stasi. I shivered. If I was really facing one of their field agents, then I was horribly outclassed. Had I really taken him so easily? And who had actually controlled that conversation? Damn. Any other time, I'd be screaming for help at this point. But who could I call upon for this? For the first time in decades I found myself without support.

I was alone in this.

It was not a good feeling.

"Until tomorrow night, you bastard. . . ."

"Hellooo! Earth to Sarge! Earth to Sarge!"

I blinked and looked up at Austin. "Hm? Oh. Sorry, Austin. Did you say something?"

Austin gave me a disgusted look. "You haven't heard a damn thing I said in the last fifteen minutes now, did you? What's wrong with you, Sarge?"

I shook my head. "Sorry, Austin. I haven't been getting much sleep lately. Too much on my mind."

"Yeah? Who is she?"

I snapped my head up to see Austin grinning at me. He threw up his hands. "Just kidding, Mike. Just kidding!" He sobered. "Really Sarge, I know we're getting a little behind, but it isn't our fault that damned supplier sent us the wrong stuff. Can't them fools down south understand that?"

I dropped my head to hide my relief at Austin's mistaken assumption. "Nobody ever understands anything, Austin. No excuses, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah . . . but sometimes don't you get the feeling that those idiots think they can order the stuff to work?"

I choked a little as I felt a grin battle its way across my face. Finally I laughed out loud, unable to banish from my mind's eye the image of some pompous ass with more rank than sense trying to browbeat a piece of hardware. "I've seen a few of them get pretty close to it, Austin." I chuckled again. "As far as they were concerned, it was a humbling experience."

"Wish I could'a seen it. Got anything goin' for dinner? I found a great seafood place over by the interstate."

"No," I sobered, "Not tonight. I have . . . an appointment tonight."

"Hah! I knew it was a woman! She good-looking?"

"Austin, you're incredible."

Genesis was insisting that It's Just a Job on one of the local radio stations as I pulled the rental car to the side of the service road, well-short of where my map said the clearing would be. I shut off the engine and sat there in the dark for a few minutes, trying to figure out just why the hell I wasn't 5000 miles in the exact opposite direction by now.

Easy. Because Stefan would have been expecting such a move.

Just like I would have.

I pulled the automatic from beneath my coat and stared at it, then with a sigh chucked it into the glove compartment, followed a few moments later by the shoulder rig. Regardless of what I encountered in that field, it would be of little use to me.

Time to quit stalling. The disconnected dome lights kept the car in darkness as I climbed out, easing the door shut. Clad in a dark jacket, slacks, black sneakers and a crew cap I padded forward, finding the field a few minutes later.

I squatted in the brush on the perimeter and waited about fifteen minutes, my eyes slowly scanning and re-scanning the area. Nothing; just darkness and the cold wind blowing through the winter-seared weeds that filled the little field. I rose and headed off to the left, slowly tracing the edge of the clearing. Using the sound of the wind to mask my movements I stalked the underbrush, searching, eventually coming all the way around to my starting point. Still nothing.

I crouched again, frowning to myself. Was I being stood up? Or perhaps set up? He could be here, watching me even now. But if he was, he'd brought precious little backup, otherwise I would have spotted it by now. I smiled grimly as I thought of the preparations I'd made earlier that evening. If this was a setup, my opponent was going to have some very nasty surprises in store for him. . . .

Enough. Get it over with. I closed my eyes and concentrated.

There was a feeling of pressure, then release as if something had abruptly given way. The dull, nauseating ache of bones bending into new shapes once again assaulted my stomach while my muscles seemed to squirm and writhe beneath my skin as they rearranged themselves.

My taloned hands hit the ground before me with a thump. I opened golden eyes to look back at my now-sinuous form, and spied something resembling a tiny spider's web woven of blue-black light hovering in the air a few inches above my right double-shoulder. It was already fading back into invisibility, having completed its job of taking my human clothes and pushing them off into a curious otherplace for storage.

A familiar feeling of pleasure began to well up from deep inside. I let it come, and watched the ground seem to slowly recede, my forepaws sinking into the soft earth as my weight doubled and redoubled.

My metallic mane made a sound like wind chimes as I settled huge wings more comfortably across my back. Steely scales slid smoothly over my muscles as I stretched my 150-foot length.

I looked about myself in the suddenly much-brighter night, peering critically at my little 'surprises.' They held station nearby; eye-baffling patterns of blue-black and ultraviolet much like my little clothes-hamper pattern, but far larger and more complex. Lines as thick as steel cable glowed dully, barely visible to even my sight, but ready to flare to brilliance with but a few finishing strokes.

I finally noticed what my tail was doing, and with an effort ceased its agitated lashing. Damn; loaded for bear and still scared stiff. Wishing mightily for a platoon of heavy infantry to watch my back, I took another deep breath and lumbered out into the clearing.

I managed to cover perhaps a hundred meters before there was the sound of an incautiously drawn breath to my left.

I whirled as the air seemed to writhe and peel back nearby, my sight dazzled by the greenish flare of eldritch energy that stood revealed. I snarled my defiance, my fangs baring themselves as the burning in the back of my throat surged and my right hand plunged itself into one of my patterns and began the motions that would bring it to deadly life--

"My lord! No!"

I paused long enough to blink the flare from my eyes, and stared at what was before me. It was a dragon; smaller, more compact than my own rangy self. Dark green scales with a familiar mottling of black covered his form, effectively blending it with the night. A low dorsal ridge ran the length of his spine, and he had no mane. Around the base of his neck he wore a torque made of a bright nimbus of energy, its color matching his eyes.

As I watched, he whom I assumed was Stefan dropped into a curious stance; forelegs splayed, wings laid flat on the ground, his head turned up and away, exposing his throat. The singularly helpless-looking posture stirred something in the back of my draconic brain, and I realized I was seeing a gesture of submission. "My lord, forgive me. I did not intend to startle you, but was merely being cautious. Please, my lord."

There was something strangely calming about the way he held himself. The burning in my throat subsided as I closed my jaws and rose from my crouch. Unsure of what to do next I simply stood and looked at him.

The black and green dragon relaxed. Slowly he straightened from that odd position, staring up at me with wide, shining eyes and muttering to himself. "Never. Never would I have dared to even dream. . . . " He abruptly shook his head. "I am sorry, my lord; I forget myself, and there is much to do. "

He reached up into the green band of energy wrapped about his throat and withdrew a glowing bit of its substance. He then placed the bit upon the ground between us and carefully backed away. "My lord, if you would take that up it will enable you to speak as the humans do."

Slowly, wary of a trap, I picked up the fragment of glowing energy, then carefully studied its structure with a witch-trained eye. Yes, the bit would do the same job as did a tiny pattern etched into one of my scales, but would require ten thousand times more power to do so. In fact, this bit had virtually no pattern at all; relying upon sheer brute force to overcome inefficient design. Mary would have had a conniption at the flagrant waste of energy. And why was I being given another 'translator' when I already had my own? Was he somehow unaware of my own tools? If so, I wasn't about to enlighten him.

Convinced of its harmlessness I pressed the bit of energy to my throat, where it quickly spread out into a glowing torque not unlike my host's. A pause, then I spoke. "So. I am here, as you wished. And what is it that you wish of me next?"

Stefan's tail flicked about in agitation. "My lord, it was not my wish, but the wish of those whom I defer to. And now, with your permission, I am to bring you to them."

I stared at the smaller dragon for a long moment, wondering what would happen if I refused. At last I nodded. "Very well." I waited for the creature to begin to relax, then I dropped the other shoe. "But first I will have your Name."

He froze, his eyes going wide as his breath drew in with a long, shocked hiss. I gazed down at him stonily as twice he began to speak, then stopped. Finally he tilted his head pleadingly. "My lord, I am known among the humans as Stefan."

I stared at him coldly as I mulled it over. It wasn't his true Name, of course, but Stefan was asking me to be content with it for now. I wasn't surprised; armed with the true Name of a magical creature such as he, a skilled person could use it to quite literally pull him inside-out. The disturbing thing, however, was the dreadful feeling that if I insisted he actually would give it to me. Why? Last night he was the professional agent, cold and hard. Now he was acting as if I were the Second Coming. And what was with all this 'my lord' stuff?

Insufficient data. Fake it for now. I let him fidget for a few moments more, then nodded reluctantly. "Very well, Stefan it is. Shall we go?"

He bowed again, his relief an almost palpable wave. "Of course, my lord. It's not all that far, and the winds are smooth tonight. If I may lead?"

I nodded silently. Immediately Stefan sprang aloft with myself not far behind, my hind legs thrusting hard against the earth as my massive pectorals contracted, the anonymous little field sinking silently away.

The flight took several hours. I thought I would have to spend the time carefully trolling my guide for intel, but was surprised when Stefan talked incessantly, if about what seemed to be all the wrong subjects; evidently determined to remedy a lifetime of barbaric ignorance within the short span that we had. At first I paid him scant attention as my beloved skies whirled about me, but then I began to listen hard as I realized that Stefan was unreeling roughly one hundred millennia of draconic history to me.

Not really much in the way of excitement at first, it wasn't until relatively recently in their history that the long-lived dragons were distracted from their slow maneuverings over territory and prestige by an increasingly pestiferous species of simian that had somehow figured out a way to use its clever little forepaws to fashion weapons beyond simple fang and claw.

Wait a minute. 'Fairly recently?' A strange feeling of premonition filled me. "Forgive my incredible ignorance, Stefan, but just how long do we live?"

Stefan blinked bemusedly, as if the question had never occurred to him. Finally he gave a curiously human shrug. "How long do you wish to live, my lord?"

As I struggled to digest that little bombshell, Stefan plowed on. Relatively solitary by nature, the dragons were shocked by how easily they could be pulled down by the little humans when they banded together into packs, then mobs, then armies. After a few bloody encounters so ancient that the humans remember them only in their vaguest legends, the dragons began to retreat in confusion in the face of this spreading plague.

It did indeed spread, and with mind-numbing swiftness in the eyes of the ancient dragons as they quietly ceded one land after another to the incredibly prolific and aggressive creatures. Eventually, starved of territory and never numerous to begin with, the dragons began to slowly die out.

Stefan sighed and studied the thousands of manmade lights far below that stained the undersides of the clouds pink with their radiance. "As your Americans would say, we have our 'backs against the wall,' my lord. Most of our females are old and barren, and children are rare. You and I are among the few dragons born in these past several hundred years. So few that not all that long ago all of us together would have barely made up a single clutch. Soon, we as well will be gone. And the humans will not even remember us."

He lifted his head and turned to gaze at me, and damn me if he didn't have that Look again. "Then you appeared, my lord. After we had given up all hope and had resigned ourselves to oblivion, you came. And I know when I look upon you that soon, very soon, we will own this world once again."

I suppressed a shudder as I looked away from what I saw in his eyes, and frantically tried to figure out just what in the hell I'd gotten myself into.

Thankfully, Stefan chose then to launch into an excruciatingly detailed crash course in dragon social etiquette that had my head swimming within moments and lasted throughout the remainder of our journey. Finally we angled downwards and descended into a range of low mountains somewhere in western Virginia, eventually alighting upon a parking lot nestled into the side of one of the larger peaks.

Puzzled, I looked about the deserted slab of asphalt as Stefan, still plugging doggedly on about the finer points of draconic body language, drifted away to fumble at a small grey panel set into the concrete wall shoring up the hillside. How strange. A parking lot in the middle of nowhere?

I looked up from the ubiquitous pavement markings to gaze at the sky for a moment, then was suddenly struck by how carefully the surrounding trees had been cut back from the edges of the lot. I studied the lines again. No, not a parking lot; a helipad carefully done up to look like a parking lot. But why?

Stefan muttered a curse. "My lord, could I beg your assistance?" I turned and went over to where he stood next to that panel. Its door was now open, and within it a numeric keypad glowed a dim green in the subdued light. Stefan rattled off a long string of digits, and at his request I carefully tapped them into the keypad. There was a loud click, followed by a deep humming.

The black and green dragon tipped his head in thanks, then looked down at his own much coarser forepaws with a sigh of envy. "Ah, to have hands like yours, my lord. What wouldn't I be able to do?"

Turning, we watched as a large part of the retaining wall began to ponderously move to one side, revealing a dark opening leading deep into the mountain. What in the world?

"After you, my lord."

I really wished he would stop calling me that. With more than a little trepidation I entered the opening, followed by Stefan. A few seconds later the massive door began rolling shut behind us. There was another loud click as it settled into place, then the chamber I found ourselves in was flooded with light.

The room was a sizeable one, constructed of large slabs of steel-reinforced concrete and illuminated at regular intervals by explosion-proof lights. There was a loading dock off to one side, and large square corridors lined with pipes and conduits and marked with cryptic lettering branched off in various directions, plunging deep into the heart of the mountain.

I eyed the wall markings, studied the disguised blast door we had entered through. Crazily enough, I knew this place. Rumors of an emergency retreat for members of Congress and various key federal posts had been drifting around Intelligence circles for decades. Recently its cover had been blown; its existence shouted to the world by a certain cretin of a journalist more interested in making a buck than in the welfare of a nation.

Now it was the last place anyone would go if things got bad; doubtlessly now the target of several hundred nuclear warheads. Bereft of its mission, the complex had gone dormant while Washington pondered its eventual fate.

Stefan led me off into one of the larger tunnels and we padded our way down its interminable length, the walls broken at regular intervals by entrance ways into huge darkened storage chambers piled high with various supplies. Twice we came upon what appeared to be barracks, and once an actual motor pool.

We turned down another corridor and traveled it for a while, then turned again. I kept a careful eye on the intersection markings in case I needed to get out of there in a hurry. Stefan was becoming increasingly nervous as we went, his tail lashing with agitation as he hissed instructions into my ear. Suddenly I ground to a halt as something he'd just said finally sank in. "I kowtow to no one, Stefan."

Stefan stared at me, nonplussed. Then his eyes narrowed. "My lord, it is not what you know as a 'kowtow,' I assure you. What I am asking you to do is nothing more than a simple courtesy among us. I am about to present you to the eldest and most revered of our kind, my lord, and I think that they are worthy of a simple gesture of respect."

I stared coldly at the smaller dragon. "I do not trust you, Stefan." I deliberately goaded him.

Stefan's tailtip lashed once, then he stilled it. For several long moments an icy tension settled over the corridor as we stared at each other. Then he tilted his head in the dracon equivalent of a cool smile, some of the professional agent resurfacing. "My lord, I would have been amazed if you did at this point. But I hope that we will be able to change that, soon."

I studied him for a moment more, then nodded. I may have just given away a small advantage, but I felt more comfortable with him this way than when he had that damnable look in his eye. "We shall see. Have we arrived?"

"Yes, my lord. The next door on the right."

Stefan hooked his claws around the edge of the heavy fire door and pulled it to one side, revealing yet another storage area. Unlike the others, though, this one was brightly lit and mostly empty; the few remaining crates and pallets piled up against the far wall, out of the way.

In one corner of the vast expanse of concrete they waited; five dragons of intimidating size, coiled comfortably on the floor until Stefan and I entered. Then their heads turned and they looked at us, their gaze intensifying as five pairs of eyes of varying shades of grey, green, and gold locked onto my form.

I felt myself falter under the impact of those reptilian eyes, then I clenched my jaws and firmed my step, stopping at precisely the distance recommended by Stefan, and snapping a very military bow; neck slightly arched, wings partially unfurled, hind legs straight while forelegs were bent but not splayed. I held this for several seconds then recovered, returning their cool gaze as I silently waited. . . .

. . . .And was ignored as one of the creatures turned his head to growl something to his neighbor, who replied with a growl of his own punctuated by several hisses. I watched as the creatures' watchful silence dissolved into long strings of growls, purrs, hisses and clicks as they conversed urgently among themselves.

I studied them as I waited; eyeing their age-ringed scales, gauging their size. The youngest was slightly larger than myself; the eldest a frightening behemoth nearly twice my bulk. I took a moment to flick my gaze to Stefan, who still stood beside me. Despite his best efforts he radiated a mixture of confusion and outrage. Ah; so this was just as much an insult as it was among humans.

I scanned these squabbling creatures once more as I shifted my weight preparatory to turning about and leaving, then my eyes met those of the eldest.

I felt my gaze caught and held like a fly in amber by those eyes of gold-flecked emerald. Age radiated from her like heat from a fire as she lay coiled in the midst of the others, a curious stillness wrapping her frame like a shroud, the impact of the personality behind those eyes like a physical blow.

We stared at one another, gazes locked, for a long minute while the noise ebbed and flowed about us. I blinked, then shook my head as I felt something brush my mind as gently as a moth's wing. She blinked as well, her head tilting slightly to me in amused acknowledgment of something, then she gave an electrifying hiss.

The hubbub died instantly as the other dragons immediately turned to her, their heads inclining with respect. In the silence she gazed at me a moment more, then looked to Stefan, a complex purr-growl rumbling in her chest.

Stefan bowed again. "My Lady, I regret that he does not understand our language as of yet."

She nodded to Stefan, then turned to meet my eyes once again as the reached up to lay a single claw upon the base of her throat. I flinched slightly at the brilliant emerald flare that erupted, my sight recovering in time to see a torque of green light wrapping itself about her throat. Similar flashes around us told me that the others were following suit.

"And what shall we call you, young one?"

Such a warm, rich voice seemed incongruous coming from this grey-green mountain; until you looked into her eyes. I found myself swallowing before I could speak. "My Lady, I would be pleased if you would call me Hasai."

If she was disappointed that I hadn't given her my Name, not a flicker of it showed. Instead, she simply tilted her head humorously. "In that case, you may call me Dithra." Her amusement grew as she watched my reaction. "A promising author, is she not? Perhaps a little too ready to believe that the world is a gentle place, but she will learn. Be welcome, young Hasai. We have awaited you for a very long time."

"I- I don't understand."

She re-coiled her tail about herself as if anticipating a long exchange. "And what is it that you do not understand? Ask your questions, young dragon. I will answer."

"You say that you awaited me. Why? How did you find me? How did you even know that I even existed?"

Her head tilted again. "If I may answer in reverse order; when those with the blood of the Shen-Lung first exert their power, the entire world feels it. When the weather of Central America went insane, we suspected. When a hurricane of the Caribbean was torn apart like a prey animal, we knew."

I almost made the mistake of smiling like a human, turning it into a rueful tilt of the head at the last instant. "I was less than discreet."

"Indeed." Dithra had caught my error, but dismissed it with a flick of her tailtip. "We began our search when we noted the weather patterns in your Panama, dispatching young Stefan to find the cause. But you had vanished. Weeks later a hurricane explodes into existence in the southern Caribbean, and is slapped about like a plaything in the paws of a kitten. Once again Stefan searches, and once again you have vanished." She shook her head in amused exasperation. "Your human profession makes you very difficult to find, young Hasai."

I was beginning to get the hang of this very Japanese style of conversation. I gave a small bow, acknowledging the last. "And may I ask how Stefan finally managed to catch up with me?"

Dithra's eyes flicked over to Stefan, and he quickly answered. "It became an easier matter, my lord, when I realized your close connection with your aircraft. Once I located your flight plans, the rest was simple."

"So. You finally caught with me in Baltimore?"

"Yes, my lord."

"And what was your connection with the three thugs that attacked me there?"

Stefan blinked. "My lord?"

"Your sudden appearance was too timely to be coincidence, Stefan. Why the three goons? Was it to flush me out? To make sure I was the one you were looking for? Or were you simply tired of chasing me all over the world, and decided to bend a pipe over my head and deliver me to these nice people trussed up like a Christmas goose?"

The smaller dragon's tail was lashing with agitation as he slowly backed away from my deliberate grin. "M- my lord, I assure you--"

Dithra once again gave that startling hiss. "Enough, Hasai. It is true that Stefan was watching you, but only while he awaited our permission to make contact. Your encounter with the thieves brought him out of hiding, thinking you might need assistance."

"Then why did he disappear, my Lady?"

She looked at me with annoyance. "You were about to kill him, were you not?"

Urk. I paused a moment, then decided to let the matter drop for now. "I most certainly was, my Lady. I beg everyone's pardon."

There was a growl to my left, and a brown and green dragon perhaps half-again my size said something to Dithra in that curious language. Whatever her reply was, he didn't like it, for his tail lashed angrily until he caught me looking at him. His eyes narrowed. "You stare, whelp. You lack manners."

Another mistake on my part. I bowed. "Your pardon, my lord; I am still learning. And by what name may I know you, sir?"

The banded dragon lifted his head haughtily, his lower jaw dropping slightly to show a hint of fang. "This is a waste of time. Feral whelps such as this do not ask questions of their superiors. All they need do is obey."

Now this was just too much to let slide. I lifted my head as well, the corner of my hard mouth curling slightly. "And in just what way are you my superior, sir?"

Brown-green looked like he'd been slapped. Tail lashing, he lurched to his feet, only to freeze in his tracks at a rippling snarl from Dithra. His eyes went wide and he crouched back down as she loomed over him, giving him what no soldier could have mistaken for anything other than a thorough dressing-down.

A final growl from Dithra, and brown-green abruptly turned and slunk silently out of the room, carefully avoiding my eye as he left. Dithra stared after him for a moment, then turned back to me. "The evening grows late, young Hasai." She stated wearily. "Do you have any more questions?"

"Only the last, my Lady. Why am I so important to you?"

She paused for a long moment, then her jaws dipped in a very human nod. "And of course it is the most difficult one to answer. . . .Indeed, why?" She looked to Stefan. "You have told him our history?"

"Only the barest bones, my Lady, but yes."

"Then that shall suffice." Dithra's gold and emerald eyes swung back to me. "We are dying, young Hasai. Once, we were lords of this world and all of its lands. Then the humans appeared, and in what seemed to be the space of a single breath we went from rulers to wretched remnants. I remember--" She trailed off, then shook her head as if to rid herself of something. "At first we tried to give battle. At first. The results were horrible. In spite of all our power we were no match. They had numbers, and they had their tools. Their weapons. They swept us away. Now we hide; spinning simulacra of human forms about ourselves in order to preserve the pitifully few of us that remain.

"But we learned from them, these humans. We began to build. Not with tools; those are not in our nature. Instead, we built with Life. With Power. Those things which we do understand."

She sighed. "It took many years. Time and again our efforts were disrupted by the humans' incessant wars, time and again our places of labor were destroyed, those whom we worked with scattered. Our last efforts were shattered by the American Civil War, and by what the humans called World War Two. After the destruction of those two final attempts we surrendered to despair. There was no more time. The humans were filling up the last of the world, and we had run out of places to hide.

"And then one day, above the Isthmus of Panama, the weather goes insane." The huge old dragon cocked her head, her eye glittering with humor. "How ironic. The one we had hoped for was born; product of results of those last two desperate attempts on separate continents, all unknowing of their heritage, thrown together by the global convulsions of yet another human war half a world away."

"My Lady, I don't understand. My parents were human."

"And so they were, for the most part. Like you they were born in the human manner, and led to believe they were fully human by their own parents. But they were not, and you are not. But neither are you fully dragon."

My tail lashed once before I could still it. Dithra dipped her jaws in mild apology, but with a humorous tilt. "I mean no insult to you, young Hasai, but you are indeed of human blood as well. And that is as we intended. All of us can create human simulacra and conceal ourselves within them; those of us who could not perished long ago. But the simulacra do not stand up well to close scrutiny, and within, we are still dragons.

"But you, young Hasai, when you assume human guise you become human. So human that you can actually breed with them, as did your scattered ancestors when our plans were broken; mingling with the humans until we thought the bloodlines hopelessly diluted. So human, that one could fail to realize what one truly was."

"There were strange dreams and hungers that haunted my life, my Lady. And a deep sadness that I could not explain."

"And what did you think of these feelings?"

". . . .I thought that I was going insane. Why, Dithra? Why did you not tell us?"

"And would that have been a kindness? To tell a creature that he could have lived far beyond a mortal's span, that he could have danced amongst the clouds, had he but a few drops more of our blood?"

I looked away from her ancient eyes to study the concrete at my feet. I sighed. "No."

"And we would not have told you, Hasai, had we known you existed. You would have gone on to live out your human life; disturbed by your strange dreams and longings, but at least it would have been a life. Tell me, young dragon, how did you awaken?"

I hesitated, then realized what she was asking. I snorted, wishing I knew how to signal wry humor. "Violently, my Lady. Very violently. All my life I have been stalked by the lightning of every storm and gale I encountered. Finally, after decades of trying, one of the bolts found its mark."

She blinked. "That must have been quite abrupt. And very painful. Your mind must be a strong one, to have withstood such a wrenching change without shattering."

I bowed to her. "My Lady overestimates me. I have no doubt that I would have broken, had it not been for the wings."

"Ahh. Your dreams." She paused for a moment, pondering. "The lightning was probably drawn by your Shen-Lung, or Storm Dragon aspect, young Hasai. It is the part of you that allows you to influence the weather. It was what we were working to revive with our labors in Europe."

"Revive? My Lady, are the Lung--"

"They are no more. Their kind had faded for centuries, then their last pitiful remnants eradicated by the madman Mao Tse-Tung when he rose to power in that land."

I closed my eyes for a moment as both regret and a strange loneliness welled up within me. I sighed. "I notice that I do not look all that much like the few illustrations I have found, my Lady."

"That is because you also possess the blood of the Western dragons, Hasai; a gift from your father. Hopefully you possess their abilities as well. The wings are obvious, but do you also possess their flame?"

I thought of the ever-present burning sensation at the back of my throat, and what it could do. "Yes, my Lady."

"And I do not doubt that you have their talent in controlling that which the humans in their ignorance call magic. There is a haze of Power about you, young Hasai, that I cannot fathom as yet, but it promises much."

I felt a chill as I realized that Dithra had sensed the patterns that I had woven all about me before starting this evening's adventure. If she even suspected the purpose of several of them. . . .

. . . .But the ancient dragon continued. "The blood of the Eastern dragons may have gifted you with other abilities as well. Can you shift your form, Hasai?"

I blinked. "My Lady?"

"Can you take on the shapes and abilities of creatures other than man and dragon? Can you become, perhaps, a wolf?"

I stared at her for several moments, the implications thundering in my head. "Uh, my Lady, it has never even occurred to me to try."

"I see. Well, we can explore that later. Perhaps your size. Can you change that?"

I found my head tilting humorously. "My Lady, that is something that I can do; though I believe the legends of being able to go from the size of a grain of rice to that of a mountain to be a trifle exaggerated. I can, however, go from about the size of a wren, to. . .well. . ."

Dithra's eyes widened as she suddenly found herself speaking with a dragon fully her equal in size, if not greater. There were several muffled exclamations from the others, and Stefan hissed in shock and sprang away from my suddenly looming bulk. ". . .to about here. Anything beyond those two points becomes very painful very quickly."

Now it was Dithra's turn to blink. "I have not seen that particular trick in many years. I had forgotten how dramatic it is." She shook it off, then looked deep into my eyes. "Hasai, we rejoice that you have come among us with your many gifts, but unless you possess two more abilities, two very special abilities, all that has gone before shall be for naught. These abilities would, ironically enough, come from your human aspect.

"Hasai, may I see your forelimbs?"

For some reason a thick silence abruptly settled over our little group as she spoke those words. I looked a bit uneasily about myself, then sat back on my haunches and showed her my hands. She stared at them, still as stone, for several long moments. Then slowly, gently she took my right hand between her own forepaws. I was struck at how coarse and clumsy her paws were when compared to my own as she slowly stroked the length of my fingers, flexed my wrists, felt at their bone structure.

"He has hands. Oh, by the Ancestors, he has hands."

At the sound of those quiet words there was a collective sigh, as if everyone in the room had been holding their breaths. Suddenly all of them were talking at once in that strange language, their powerful voices echoing and re-echoing off the concrete walls. The din was incredible.

Through it all Dithra continued to knead my hand, staring at it as if at something precious beyond words. Her touch sent a special thrill through my frame, awakening feelings that I hadn't experienced in far too long. I found my talons curling themselves about her paw and squeezing gently.

She drew a sudden breath, then her eyes snapped up to mine. Those eyes of gold-flecked emerald widened as she read what she saw there, then slowly grew faintly luminous.

Then it was gone; replaced with a deep regret. Letting my hand drop she turned and hissed the others into silence, then turned back to me. "One of the advantages the humans have always had over us was their hands." She offered by way of explanation. She lifted her own forepaw and stared at it wryly. "What we have is good for seizing and lifting prey, but little else. The humans, however, could use what had been given them to shape the materials of the earth. They could make and use tools. And it was with those tools that they defeated us."

"Hasai--" A voice from my right, and an elder of a shade of green so dark as to be nearly black, his scales nicked and scarred by some ancient violence limped his way forward. He bowed stiffly to Dithra. "I ask your pardon, my Lady, but I must ask this." He turned to me without awaiting her reply. "Young Hasai, are you a Builder?"

"A builder, my lord? Do you mean an engineer? Um, yes, that is my human profession."

"An Engineer." He breathed, staring at me hungrily. Abruptly he gestured at our surroundings. "You can do such things as this? Tear the very bones out of a mountain and form it into a dwelling place?"

I blinked, then looked at the walls. "Well sir, I've never tried anything so ambitious; my area of expertise is weapon systems. But with the right tools and materials and a great deal of work I don't think it would be all that. . . ."

He had been gazing at the walls distractedly until the moment I said the word weapon. Instantly he whipped about, and I trailed off as he stared at me, a strange light in his eyes. "Weapons. You could build tools-- weapons that a dragon could use?"

There was a warning hiss from Dithra, but the scarred dragon ignored her. I frowned at him. The question was troubling, but there was no real reason why I should refuse to answer it. "I suppose, sir. The differences in size complicates matters, but maybe I could adapt some existing platform. . . ." I trailed off again as the light in his eyes became positively frightening.

"Hasai. Dear Hasai, you may know me as Ksstha, and we will speak again. Oh, yes, we will speak again."

With that he turned and stalked back to his place in the group and, oblivious to Dithra's molten glare, coiled up to stare at the concrete between his forepaws, but quite obviously seeing something far different.

I suppressed a shudder as Dithra turned back to me and gestured apologetically. "Your pardon, Hasai. Ksstha is. . . ." She searched for a moment. ". . . .He has unpleasant memories."

An uncomfortable silence ensued, and I quickly tried to change the subject. "My Lady? You said there were two things."

"Ah." She sighed, obviously relieved. She paused a moment to gather her thoughts. "Dragons live long, Hasai, but very rarely do we have children. We do not know why; perhaps it is the price we pay for our longevity. Be as it may, the mated couple that is fortunate enough to produce a child is considered truly blessed, and the event cause for celebration amongst all who hear of it.

"Hopefully, you are different, Hasai."

I stared at her, and she tipped her head amusedly. "That was the other reason we dared to mix our blood with that of the humans; mix it so deeply that we feared it lost forever. If we succeeded in this thing, you will prove to be as productive as the humans themselves." A hint of laughter glittered in her eyes for a moment, then faded, to be replaced with something more bittersweet. "We are old, Hasai; dangerously so. So old, that most of our females, including myself, are barren."

I felt my eyes go wide as I realized the incredible gaffe I made earlier. We looked at one another for an interminable moment, her eyes unreadable. Finally her tail flicked in dismissal. "However, we still have a few younger females, and perhaps we will be fortunate enough to find you a suitable mate. Then, the Ancestors willing, you can give us the many children we need to replenish our numbers."

I realized that my lower jaw was hanging open, and closed it with a snap. I must have looked quite comical, for Dithra's glittering eyes softened before she continued in a gentler tone. "We created you, Hasai; partially by design, partially by accident, in order to preserve our kind. With your abilities, and, hopefully, the abilities of your progeny, we will finally be able to successfully compete with the humans, and stop our slide into oblivion." She tipped her head. "A suitable challenge for a dragon, is it not? To be savior of our race?"

I found that my mouth had gone dry. "My Lady, I. . . . Um, I. . . ."

She nodded. "Indeed. I have given you much to think about, and doubtless you need time to digest it." She glanced at Stefan. "The night is nearly over. Your guide will show you to where we have prepared a suitable place where you may rest and think. Then we shall speak again, and in more depth. There is much for you to learn about us, and much for us to learn about you."

I awoke out of my daze with a start. Oh hell, the time. "My Lady, I thank you for the hospitality, but I must return to my work in Baltimore. Would it be possible to talk some other night?"

Dithra gazed at me blankly for a moment, as I had spoken in some unknown language. Then she tipped her head in gentle humor. "You must surely realize that your life among the humans is at an end, young dragon. You are far too precious to us to risk any further exposure to those creatures. No, I must insist that you stay."

"My Lady, I cannot."

My words echoed slightly in the vast space, then faded into an even larger silence. A certain tension had entered the room, and all of the dragons were looking at me intently. Even Ksstha now peered at me sharply. Dithra lifted her head and then inclined it slightly, waiting for me to explain.

I swallowed. "My Lady, I have obligations that I must fulfill. There are those that depend on me, and if I failed them many good people could suffer."

Dithra's emerald eyes glinted coolly. "Hasai, what could you possibly see in the humans to cause you to value them so? They are brutish, short-lived monsters that destroy everything they touch. Indeed, several of them attacked you not long ago, did they not? What if they had succeeded in their attack? What if you had perished? Would you doom us for such as they, Hasai?"

God, how I hated this. "Dithra, please. I gave them my word."

"Break it. What care they for a dragon's honor?"

She jerked her head back, seemingly shocked by her own words, but it was too late to retrieve them. My heart, wavering until now, went cold. "It does not matter whether they care or not. I care, for it is my honor. I have duties to perform, oaths to keep. And they will be kept, for that is how I am."

More gently. "My Lady, I understand your concern. But what sort of 'savior' would I be if my word wasn't worth the breath used to give it?" That momentary flash of icy anger was subsiding, leaving behind a deep sadness. "Dithra, I beg your permission to leave."

She stared at me for what seemed to be forever, and I felt my resolve once again begin to slowly crumble under that gaze. Finally her neck drooped in defeat and she turned away. She spoke then; a single word, so softly that I scarcely heard it. "Go."

The other elders instantly exploded into deafening protest, but she ignored them as I turned and headed back the way I came, my size sinking back towards normal with each step I took. At the doorway I glanced back, and she was looking at me again. I hesitated under that gaze, feeling as if something unutterably precious were slipping from my grasp. Finally, with the last remaining fragment of my resolution I turned and headed out the door.

Stefan radiated all the warmth of liquid nitrogen on the way back to Baltimore, speaking only to me when absolutely necessary. By the time we reached that lonely little field again I'd had all I was going to take of his icy politeness.

"Stefan, enough."

The black and green dragon turned to look at me coolly, his head held at a not-quite-insulting angle. "Why, whatever do you mean, my lord?"

Badly worn by the events of the night, I found myself hard-put to contain the rush of white-hot rage that suddenly boiled within me. He saw it as well, but though his eyes widened slightly he didn't change his posture one iota.

Finally I managed to regain enough control that I trusted myself to speak. "You just don't get it, do you, Stefan? Do you have any idea, any idea at all just what it cost me to walk out that door? DO YOU???"

Stefan started violently at my sudden scream, then stared at me as I struggled for rational thought. At last I sighed. "Of all those there, I thought you at least would understand." I gestured at him. "We're relics, you and I, you know that? We faced each other as pawns in a shadow-war that spanned most of this century. Both of us went through more than a little hell in that war, and both of us buried more than a few friends. And for what?"

I turned and took several steps away from him, my tail lashing, and studied the dead weeds at my feet as I groped for words. "Now, that war is over, and the humans discard us like a worn-out shoe. And what are the rewards for our labors? You are a hunted fugitive. And I? I am relegated to chasing drug runners and crushing two-bit dictators until one day I find myself in early retirement on a starvation pension."

I looked back at him. "It's all gone, Stefan. The challenge, the occasional glory, the purpose. And that's what hurts most of all, you know. Once, I had a purpose."

"My lord--"

I cut him off. "Dithra offered me a new purpose, Stefan; one even better than the last. One in which I actually get to preserve something, rather than destroy. One in which I won't have to kill. Do you know how tired I am of killing, Stefan?"

The dragon hesitated for a moment, then sighed and looked away. "Perhaps as much as I am, my lord."

"I will help you, Stefan."

". . . .My lord?"

"Once the humans release me from my obligations to them --and they will, soon, for they have no more use for me-- we shall see if we can make Dithra's little dream come true." I allowed myself a human smile as I looked him in the eye. ". . . .And you have my word on that, Stefan."

The black and green dragon stared at me, his frame gone stone still. He opened his jaws to speak, closed them again, then finally bowed to me; deeply, as he had when we first met in that tiny field.

"Good night, Stefan."

". . . .Good night, my lord."

Thirty minutes after my head hit the pillow, the alarm clock erupted. I gave a heartfelt groan, reached over and slapped it off, then laid there for several minutes as I worked up the gumption to get up. This dual-life stuff really takes it out of a guy. . . .

. . . .With a start my eyes snapped open to stare at the clock. Damn! I fell asleep again! With a snarl I flung off the covers with one hand while the other reached for the phone and punched up the hangar. A few minuted later I had Austin on the line.

"Hey, sarge, where you at?"

"At the hotel," I replied, rubbing my eyes. "Sorry Austin, I overslept. I'll be right over."

"Well, don't bother yourself. Them damn Tru-Loks still ain't here, and all me and the boys're doin' is sittin' around with our thumbs up our asses. Gettin' ready to call it a day, ourselves."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Sounds like I picked a good day to screw up. Okay, Austin. I'll be in first thing in the morning."

"Whoa! Don't hang up yet, I got somethin' here for you. . . .If I can find it. . . ." There was a rustling sound as my chief mechanic rummaged through that bird's nest he called his desk. "Hah! Found it. Some girl name of Pass-kal called for you last night after you left."

"Pasqual," I corrected automatically. "She leave a number?"

"Yep." Austin rattled it off, then paused. "Hey, Sarge, that girl sounded awful good on the phone. Any more like her back home?"

In spite of my exhaustion I had to laugh. "I don't know. But if you're real nice to me, maybe I'll find out."

"How's a steak sound?"

"Inch thick? Medium-rare?"

"Yeah, I can do that."

"Deal."

"I always knew you were one of the good guys, Sarge."

I grinned into the phone. "Well, don't tell anybody; it'll ruin my image. See you tomorrow, Austin."

I hung up, then dialed again. After several rings a familiar voice answered. I smiled. "Hi."

"Michael! How are you?"

"Tired. How's your father?"

A tiny pause, then a laugh. "I think you were right about older people, Michael. He was out of bed before I got there."

I chuckled quietly. "How long are you in town?"

"I have a day here before I leave," I could hear her smile right across the line. "Why? Do you have something in mind?"

"I might."

"But you said that you were tired."

"Not that tired. . . .Give me four hours and I'll be fine." I gave her my hotel and room number. "See you soon?"

"I will see you soon, Michael."

Pasqual held the wine glass up to the candlelight and let its glow illuminate the glass' blood-red contents. She smiled as she then let her eyes roam across the richly furnished dining room, then back to me. "Michael, how did you find such a place? It's beautiful."

I chuckled, then sipped my wine; a marvelous Cabernet to go with the equally marvelous meal. "I read all the right aviator magazines. If there's one thing pilots know, it's where all the good party spots are."

Pasqual laughed at that, white teeth flashing, and I smiled. For some reason it made me feel good to watch her laugh.

She quieted, and for several long moments she studied me from across the table. "You seem to be much better than you were in the islands, Michael. Less. . .dark. Do you still have bad dreams?"

I smiled sadly. "Not as much anymore. I . . ." I trailed off, my head tilting back as I searched for words. ". . .I think I've managed to atone for a few things, and maybe have come to terms with others."

She gave me an uncertain smile. "Perhaps you would like to talk about it someday?"

"Perhaps. Someday."

The talk petered out after that, and we picked at the remains of our meal until the last of the wine was gone. Our waiter materialized. "Would you like to take a look at our dessert menu this evening?"

I looked at Pasqual and arched an eyebrow quizzically. She gave me a diabolical little smile, then replied to the waiter. "Not tonight, thank you. We have a different dessert in mind this evening." The waiter hid a quick smile, and Pasqual laughed as I felt my face go flaming red.

Four, maybe five hours later I shut off the shower, wrapped a towel around my waist and stepped out of my hotel room's tiny bathroom, to find Pasqual wearing my robe and sitting at the edge of the bed. She was fiddling with the room's radio-slash-TV, and evidently not having much success.

"I'm sorry Pasqual, did I wake you?"

"Hmm?" She looked up, smiled. "Oh, no. My body, it still thinks it is in France. So, it is the middle of the morning for me." Her smile slid into a frown as she went back to the stubborn device. "Do you know how to make this work? I was trying to find some music, but I am not doing very well."

I went over to the set and crouched before it, close enough to her to feel her warmth. "Well, let's see . . . " I flicked several switches. ". . . it acts like it's not getting any power. It's plugged in, though. . .looks like an internal fuse." I muscled the set around and got a look at the fasteners securing its back. "Tamper-proof Torx," I sniffed derisively, then went to my bag and pulled out a small black case. I zipped it open to reveal a welter of curious-looking tools, wires, tiny electronic devices, and other, even more bizarre items. "Now, where did I put that silly little thing?"

Pasqual came to peer over my shoulder, and stared at the contents of the case. "Michael, what is it that you do for the American Army?"

I looked up from my rummaging. "Me? Well, Pasqual, I am what most people would call a spy." I smiled as I felt the tool I was looking for slide into my hand. "Gotcha, you little. . . ." I held it up to the light, then went over to the TV, unsnapping the back of the tool as I went. "To be more exact, I'm an Electronics Warfare expert. I do things with electronics and other hardware to gather information, control weaponry, and in general just mess up the Bad Guys." I paused. "Looks like a TT15." I fished a drive bit out of the tool's storage compartment. "Ah. Here we go."

A few moments later I had popped the back cover off and was tracing the wiring. Pasqual blinked at the bewildering maze within the set. "You must be very good at these things."

"What? This?" I nodded at the mess I had my hands inside. "This is nothing. I work on stuff that makes this look as simple as a stone axe every day of the week." I grinned distractedly. "But, yeah, I'm good. In fact, I'm the best."

I snapped a tiny metal and glass capsule out of its holder and held it to the light. "The very best. There isn't a thing I can't do with electronics and other hardware. Put me in a lab or a machine shop, and no one can touch me." I felt my mouth twist wryly. "I guess you could say I was born and bred for it. Hm. Just as I thought."

I went over to the black case and fished out the folded square of aluminum foil I kept in it, tore off a small piece. "Didn't used to be that way, though. Used to be lots of guys around just as good, or better. But they're all gone."

Pasqual watched as I wrapped the capsule in the bit of foil, then snapped it back into its cradle. "Why? Where did they go?"

I shrugged, then began to reassemble the set. "Some are dead, some are retired. Most were forced out. Seems the Army doesn't want any whiz-kids in its ranks anymore; just clean-cut types who know when to salute and how to look good in a uniform. But don't ask them to do anything more complicated than changing a light bulb."

"Why didn't you leave as well, Michael?"

I smiled bitterly. "And where would I go? The ability to can-opener a communications network isn't exactly in high demand in private industry, y'know. . . .There."

I turned the set back around and flipped the radio selector. Static hissed, and I twisted the tuning knob until music began to issue forth. I turned to Pasqual and gave a florid bow as she applauded. "There you go, my lady; yet another small miracle courtesy of the Sarge." I smiled at her and patted the set affectionately. "I'd suggest we watch the little critter carefully, though; fuses don't just pop without a reason. It'd be poor form to end our evening with a fire, now wouldn't it now?"

Wide-eyed, she tried with little success to stifle a nervous laugh. "You speak of it as if it were alive."

"Isn't it? Here--" I took her hand, and gently stroked its back across a portion of the set's metal trim. "Feel that funny, warm buzz against your skin? It's alive; in a strange, alien sort of way, but alive nonetheless."

Pasqual snatched her hand away, and shivered. Seeing my concerned look, she smiled at me sadly. "I am sorry, Michael, but no one in my family has ever truly understood machines. We find them . . . frightening."

I returned her smile, then shrugged. "That's okay; most everybody's that way. Still, it would have been nice. . . ." I trailed off as I sought another subject. After a few moments I noticed the song that was playing. On impulse I stepped to Pasqual and bowed again. "Would my lady care to dance?"

Before Pasqual could do more than give me a bemused look I had grasped her hand and swung her into a close embrace. She tensed for a moment, then relaxed into my arms as we began to slow-dance to the rich, slightly sad music of Al Stewart. I buried my face into her chestnut hair for a moment, inhaling as much of her scent as I could with my stunted human senses. And I held her like that as we slowly circled through the little hotel room.

"How was home?"

Again a tiny pause; so much like an actress in a play trying to remember her next line. That certain chill returned, and this time it refused to be ignored. I felt a wave of sadness sweep through me. "Home was good to return to, Michael; I wish I could have stayed longer. But Papa was doing much better, and the club wanted me back as soon as possible. So I had to leave much sooner than I would have."

I closed my eyes and smiled into her hair. "I'm sorry to hear that, Pasqual. Did you at least find out how the Beaujolais Nouveau are doing this year?"

She chuckled throatily against my shoulder. "No, not even that. I'm sorry; I should have thought to bring you a bottle. Perhaps next time."

"Perhaps." I gently kissed her throat and I felt her breath catch slightly. "But I am happy with what you did bring." I kissed her throat again.

". . . .Mmmm?"

"Yourself."

My kisses slowly roamed their way across her throat, then began to slowly drift downwards, becoming interspersed with tiny nips with my front teeth, never quite drawing blood. She sighed and let her robe fall open, then shuddered as I began to gently work over what I found within. Soon her breath was coming in panting little gasps as she ran her fingers through my hair, pressing me against her smooth skin.

. . . .My poor little swallow. Who sent you to entangle me? One of the cartels? DGI? Or some old enemy I no longer even remembered? How did they get you to do this, and what will be your punishment for failure? Ah, my poor, poor little swallow. . . .

Gently I picked her up and laid her on the bed, where I began to once again make love to her in earnest. In the background the music began to slowly wind to a close, a few fragments of the song's last lines searing themselves into my memory.

-You know sometime you're bound to leave her,
-But for now you're gonna stay
-In the Year of the Cat

The morning sun found me once again at BWI, seeing Pasqual off to Miami.

She checked her bags, then turned to me and smiled. "Will you see me to the gate?"

I paused for a moment; seeking a better way to do this, but in the end simply shaking my head. "I'm sorry, Pasqual, but I have to get back to work."

Her smile slipped a bit, and her eyes flickered downwards for a moment. "I see." Then she brightened. "You will call me as soon as you get back to the islands?"

"I won't be coming back, Pasqual."

Her smile faded completely. "Michael? . . .What is it? Have I done something wrong?"

"Very little." She blinked at that, and stared at me as I traced a single finger along her jawline. "I'm sorry, my dear Pasqual, so very sorry. I thought you understood. I go where I'm needed, and I'm not needed down there anymore."

I sighed and dropped my hand. "Our two worlds rarely touch, Pasqual. We had a few moments on the beach, and that's all I could ever ask for. You helped me over some very tough times, for which I'll always be grateful, but when I left your little island I fully expected to never see you again." I smiled. "It was a miracle we ran into each other up here, and yesterday was wonderful. But more than one miracle is far too much to hope for."

Her eyes had grown wet, and she seemed to be trembling slightly. "Michael, don't--"

I shushed her, then gently kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then, finally, her mouth. "Goodbye, Pasqual. Please try not to think too badly of me. . . ."

I stepped back from her. She stared at me for long moments, a single tear beginning to work its way down her cheek. But finally the message hidden within my words seemed to sink in. Her eyes dropped. Reaching down she groped for her carry-on, then silently turned and walked away, to be quickly swallowed up by the milling mass of humanity.

Goodbye, Pasqual.

The stuff we needed over at the hangar finally arrived late that morning, along with the folks from FEMA; the Federal Emergency Management something-or-other. They'd been shopping around for something that could quickly chart a disaster area, and were tipped off by one of our contractors about our little airplane.

Well, the FEMA bunch took one look at the spec sheets and went absolutely nuts. Especially over the new equipment we were just starting to put in. Immediately they started trying to wheedle permission from the Powers That Be to stick around long enough to see the results of the test suite.

From a distance, Austin and I watched the flock of gabbling Feds flutter about the hangar floor, then we turned and looked at each other. Wordlessly Austin gave an elaborate shrug and went back to his work, and I continued watching in amazement as the civilians messed with things that just a few years earlier would have had a dozen MPs on top of them in an instant.

Incredible. Still, I suppose there's a nice sort of irony in seeing my equipment, designed for war, used by a peacetime organization to save lives. But a touch of bitterness as well; as the only reason they were allowed in was to help justify our operations budget to an increasingly recalcitrant Congress.

In spite of the FEMA folks underfoot, my crew got those long-awaited parts installed, and even managed to catch up a bit on our backlog. Our first bench tests went smoothly. In spite of it all, we began to hope we'd be able to get back on schedule.

The next attack came the following evening.

We'd been working pretty late the past couple of days in order to catch up on our backlog, and I was walking back to the hangar after grabbing supper at a nearby sandwich shop. My mind was on other things, but there was still no excuse for failing to notice the van trailing behind until it suddenly gunned its engine and pulled up beside me.

The instant I saw the vehicle's side door begin to slide open I knew what was about to happen. I crouched, my hand darting under my jacket . . . and finding nothing. I'd stopped carrying my sidearm several days earlier. Before I could recover, two goons had jumped from the van and were all over me. One rammed an automatic into my side with enough force to partially knock the wind out of me, the other grabbed my arm and cranked it up behind my back.

"Into the van, pal. Move."

They were starting to drag me into that dark opening when there was a slapping sound, and the pressure on my arm fell away. A red splotch had appeared on the grabber's shirt, and he went down with a soft groan.

The gunman whirled, his weapon coming up as he frantically scanned the surrounding night for the threat, momentarily forgetting me.

Big mistake.

Seeing the gunman crumple to the ground must have made the van's driver decide on the better part of valor, for the engine suddenly roared and the van quickly disappeared down the street. I slowly went to my knees between the two bodies with my hand pressed against my side, fighting to get my breath back as I searched the darkness for what could be either my savior or my assassin.

There was a rustle of grass, and then Stefan appeared, holding a still-smoking Makarov, his eyes darting about as he searched the area for additional targets. Evidently satisfied, he hurried over to me and leveraged me to my feet. "Are you injured, my lord?"

"Just my ego," I wheezed. "Pretty good shooting."

"Thank you," he replied distractedly. "We must leave before anyone sees us. Can you walk, my lord?"

"Walk? I can damn well run!" Gritting my teeth, I proved it by leading off in a shambling trot away from the scene, Stefan close behind. ". . .And would you please stop calling me that! Call me Sarge, Hasai, or even Hey You. Just stop with the 'my lord' crap, will you?"

There was a moment's silence from behind me, then "Very well, Sergeant."

At Stefan's insistence I let him scout out my hotel room for me, but only after he'd tried and failed to convince me to return with him to the mountains. Once inside the room, I apologized to him for thinking he had been part of the first attack.

He nodded soberly. "Thank you, my lo-- Hasai. But I must now agree with you that the assaults upon you are deliberate." He frowned. "Do you have any enemies?"

I chuckled. "Only about half the scum of this planet; but most of them would settle scores with either a bomb or a bullet. No . . ." I sank gratefully into a chair. ". . . this is someone who wants me alive." I looked at him sharply. "Someone like Dithra."

Stefan went slightly pale at that, and I could see the effort that it cost him to force back an angry retort. Finally he answered. "My Lady is an honorable person, Sergeant; she would never stoop so low as to resort to such a thing."

"Never?" I shot back. "Not even when the future of our entire race is at stake? How long would either you or I withstand that kind of pressure, Stefan? I suggest that you think long and hard about that before you use a word like 'never'. And if it isn't her, then who?"

The former Stasi agent opened his mouth to reply, then paused, seemingly struggling with something. My eyes narrowed. "You suspect someone, don't you?"

Stefan shifted uncomfortably. "My lord-- Hasai, I am not authorized to speak of such things."

"'Not authorized?'" I echoed angrily. "What kind of garbage is this? Well then, mister, I would suggest you get that authorization, and fast. Whoever's doing this is getting a lot better at it, and I don't think that either of us believe I'm going to escape the next try so easily. Now get out."

Stefan turned to go, then hesitated and glanced at me as if about to say something, but evidently thought better of it. Silently he headed out the door and vanished.

The next day at the hangar started pretty well. We were re-mounting the equipment back into the fuselage along with the new stuff, and amazingly enough everything was fitting on the first try. The first of the wiring tests looked good, and I was becoming increasingly impressed with the skill shown by the primary contractor's engineers.

Austin went and spoiled things. I should have known that something was up when he volunteered to spring for lunch.

I was about halfway through my ham and Swiss when Austin looked about us conspirationally, then leaned across the table. "You have anything to do with it, Sarge?"

I arched an eyebrow, then swallowed my previous bite. "Anything to do with what, Austin?"

He snorted. "Don't act like you haven't heard. A couple of hardcases bought the farm less than a block from here. Where were you last night?"

I sipped my coffee. "Here at the sandwich shop. Why?"

"And then? Why didn't you come back to the hangar?"

I sighed, then put down my coffee. "And then, Austin, I got a sharp pain in my side, went back to my hotel and went to bed. I don't recommend the roast beef here."

Austin wouldn't be budged. "Sarge, did you have anything to do with it?"

I closed my eyes for a moment, then glared at him. "And just how am I supposed to answer that, Austin? No matter what I say you won't believe it."

"Try me."

"I'd rather not." I sighed, then rubbed my eyes. "Austin, you're a good guy, and I like you a lot. Please don't start acting like one of those damned conspiracy groupies that blame Intelligence for everything up to and including the last Ice Age, all right?"

Austin groaned. "Man, I knew you guys got into some pretty wild stuff, but this? I got a wife and kids down in--"

"Stop." He stared at me as I slowly took another sip of coffee. "I take it that when the druggies blew up our hotel down in Quito you didn't get the hint?" I set my cup down and looked at him. "Austin, you're probably the best damn A&P that I've ever seen, and we need you. But no one's holding you here. We'll be sorry as hell to see you go, but if you can't take the heat. . . ." I waved towards the door.

The great hairy bear of a mechanic stared down at the tablecloth for a moment, and I went back to my sandwich. Finally he sighed. "Sarge?"

"What?"

"You be careful, okay?"

"I try to be, Austin. Honestly and truly, I try to be."

That evening, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to find Stefan there with an elderly, European-looking lady at his side. She was a hard-looking woman; something like Margaret Thatcher with a stronger jaw, conservatively yet expensively dressed in a grey-green business suit and looking for all the world like someone you'd meet in the boardroom of a major multinational corporation.

Then I reached the cool emerald eyes, felt the impact of the personality behind them, and bowed. "My Lady."

She smiled slightly, and inclined her head. "Dear Hasai. May I enter?"

"Of course." I stepped aside. As she passed the threshold, Dithra turned and looked at Stefan. In response he bowed slightly and retreated down the hall. I closed the door behind her and we took seats at my work table, silently staring at each other for several long moments.

Finally she spoke. "Stefan has communicated your . . . concerns."

"Yes, my Lady?"

Her eyes glinted with annoyance. "Hasai, I had nothing to do with these assaults upon your person. Surely you must believe that."

"I am inclined to do so, my Lady, but who else would be so interested in capturing me alive?"

"Perhaps your American government. Perhaps your indiscretions of the past did not go as unnoticed as we had hoped."

I chuckled grimly. "My Lady, I am sworn to their service. If they wanted me, all they need do is order me to report. No," I sighed, "they would not be so clumsy. It is definitely our kind, operating through hired intermediaries. And if it is not you, my Lady Dithra, then who? Someone else among your council of elders, perhaps? Goodness knows I saw enough dissention among them. Or could it be some other group?"

Dithra glared at me with considerably less warmth than just a few moments ago. "I do not know, but you may rest assured, young Hasai, that I will find out."

I looked at her silently for the space of several breaths, hating what I would have to say next. "Dithra, how can I possibly trust you?"

For a frozen moment I thought my life was over. Dithra's head snapped back, and her eyes flared. The atmosphere in the room suddenly felt supercharged, as if a bolt of lightning were about to strike.

Slowly the tension drained out of the air as the Eldest brought herself back under control, finally to sit there staring at me with eyes seething like molten jade. At long last, she spoke. "Hasai, my Name is--"

--And she began to pour forth a long string of syllables; some flowing like water, some rolling like thunder. Most were unpronounceable by any human. Dragons, it seems, add to their Names as the years pass; the longest and most complex belonging to the eldest and most powerful.

This was fortunate; because it gave me time to realize what she was doing and slam my hands down over my ears. "Stop! STOP!!"

I saw her pause, and slowly, cautiously, I removed my hands. "My Lady, would you truly. . . ." I swallowed, shame filling my heart. "How could I possibly mean so much to you?"

She calmly returned my gaze. "You are our life, Hasai. Nothing else matters. Nothing."

The subject settled, she then changed the subject with an abruptness that left me dizzy, her demeanor warming as she did so. "I have someone that I'd like you to meet."

Now, how many bachelors have heard that line? I gaped at her for a moment, then smiled wryly. "My Lady, don't you think that this is an odd time to be playing matchmaker?"

She smiled back, with only the faintest trace of steel. "There is no 'odd' time for something this important. Stefan should have returned with her by now; will you at least meet her?"

I chuckled ruefully, then stood. "Why not?" I went to the door and opened it. Stefan was indeed waiting outside. With a silent smile to me he entered the room, with a white-faced Pasqual in tow.

I stared at her, things clicking into place at last. A swallow indeed; but not for some cartel or foreign government. A wave of anger washed through me as I realized why I'd felt so strongly attracted to her. Her eyes wide, Pasqual took an involuntary step back as that anger escaped into a single syllable.

"You."

Dithra looked at me, then at Pasqual, her confusion obvious. Stefan stood in the background, for a moment looking equally puzzled. Then his eyes grew cold. "You know each other?"

"Yes. Oh, yes." I replied, my lips skinning back in a humorless grin as I continued to stare. "How long now, Pasqual? Two, three months?" I chuckled grimly, then felt my lips turn downwards. "This happens every time. Every damn time, just when I think I've finally managed to figure my life out, I end up being played the sucker."

I had to step away from her at that point. My fist came up, and it was all I could do to keep from smashing it into the wall. Finally I regained enough control to turn back to Pasqual. "Who? Who put you up to this?"

Pasqual hesitated, then her eyes flicked over to Dithra, only to find her as forbidding as myself. "In this matter his voice is mine, child."

The young dragoness seemed to wilt, then slowly turned back to me. "It was Ahnkar who commanded me, my lord."

I looked at Dithra, who was nodding slowly. "Yes. As I should have suspected. You know him, Hasai; he was the one who was so short with you when you were with us last." She turned to Pasqual. "Why, child?"

Pasqual looked confused. "My Lady, I do not understand. Was Ahnkar not acting as your voice in this?"

I felt my blood chill as my eyes snapped back to Dithra. But no; she'd offered me her Name. I watched as her expression once again grew cold. "He was not. Answer the question, young one."

Pasqual seemed shocked by Dithra's denial. She glanced at me from the corner of her eye, then dropped her gaze. "My Lady, I was to have his children."

I felt my stomach drop into my socks as Dithra drew breath with a long low hiss, her eyes glittering. "And did you succeed?"

"Yes, my Lady."

". . . .How many?"

"Two, my Lady." Pasqual glanced at me again. "Two, so far. Maybe more; it is too soon to tell."

Dithra closed her eyes and tilted her face skyward in what could only be exultation. As for myself, I felt my legs buckle beneath me and I sat down heavily on the bed. I must not have looked too well, because Stefan took a half-step forward, wearing a concerned expression.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Pasqual shifted uncomfortably. "My lord, Ahnkar had me swear not to. He said--" She cut off and looked away, biting her lower lip.

"Go on."

"My lord, he told me . . . that you had murdered your mate and child."

What he saw in my face made Stefan lunge forward to prop me up. The world had grown strangely distant, and there was a hollow roaring in my ears. "He knows." I muttered. "How could he know? How-- Oh. Oh, you bastard. Oh, you God-Damned bastard. . . ."

Dithra stared at me, her features whitening as she studied my face. "Hasai, explain." Her voice, laced with steel, brooked no argument.

So I told them.

I told them of my first encounter with the exotic, green-feathered quetzalcouatl deep in the jungles of Panama. Of how I took pity upon her and her three unhatched children. How I cared for her, and eventually came to love her. I told them of the child she gave me. Then I told them of coming back late one night to find them all dead. Of how I hunted down their killer, and slew him with my hands. Of how I buried her and our children, along with all my hopes and dreams.

There was dead silence when I finished. I looked up to find Pasqual's eyes wet with unshed tears. Dithra looked ineffably sad as she watched me. Stefan simply looked grim. My eyes met his, and I slowly nodded. "Indeed. What would lure a mother away from her nest long enough for a mad wyrm to do murder? Stefan, that first night in the field I looked right at you, yet didn't see you."

Stefan nodded, already knowing where we were headed. "Yes, my lord. It was an illusion of empty air."

"Can that illusion portray other things? Like a dragon calling to his mate?"

"Yes, my lord; quite easily. It is a simple trick, however, and only good against those unaware of its existence." His eyes dropped momentarily. "Against a feral, it would be quite effective."

"But why?"

I turned to Pasqual. "To get the egg. The unhatched child of the last of the Shen-Lung, to raise as their own and mold as they wished. God, what a prize that must have seemed." I closed my eyes. "But then it spun out of control. They hadn't counted on that mad old wyrm lurking in the shadows, my love's former mate, slipping in and destroying everything. My mate's children were newly hatched; maybe they made some noise as they died. Whatever the reason, my mate came charging back, trapping him in the den, forcing him to kill her as well."

My fingers had tangled themselves in my hair, my elbows propped on my knees, my voice a whisper. "Bastards. Those damned bastards. Who gave them the right to play games with my life? To use me and mine as pawns? Damn them. Damn them all to HELL!"

That last came out as a roar. I looked up, and Pasqual flinched at what she saw in my face. "Where are my children?"

She swallowed. "My lord, I do not know. Ahnkar took them away, I know not where."

I began to rise to my feet, my eyes locked on hers, but Dithra's voice whiplashed out, stopping me. "Hasai, you speak with my voice in this. She does not lie. Not to me." She turned. "Pasqual, this one is not a murderer. A killer, yes, for that is how we made him. But no murderer."

Stefan broke in, obviously trying to change the subject. "My Lady, if Ahnkar was getting what he wanted, then why the attacks?"

"Impatience."

Dithra looked at me, and smiled sadly. "Dear Hasai, we have many faults, but impatience is not one of them. What I suspect is that Ahnkar fears that you will take my side in a debate that has lasted for many years. My hope is to eventually come to terms with the humans. To coexist with them. Ahnkar and Ksstha, however, wish war. Ahnkar wants subjugation, Ksstha dreams of genocide. Both would be more than willing to use you and your offspring as the means to achieve those goals."

"Yes, my Lady," Stefan interjected "but Ahnkar is far too cautious to jeopardize his gains by attempting to abduct lord Hasai. In his eyes, he is already winning. No, there is a third party involved. Someone who suspects or knows of Ahnkar's success, and attempts to either block it or seize it for their own purposes."

"Ksstha."

"He would seem to be the most likely suspect, my Lady."

I listened silently, wondering if this was how it felt to be a scrap of meat, fought over by a pack of starving wolves. I noticed that I was gazing at Pasqual again as she stood against the wall, looking miserable and trying her best to be forgotten by the rest of us.

I didn't know what to do with her. I still felt something towards her, and by her own admission she was the mother of my children. Pasqual was a typical dragon youth; obedient and trusting of her elders. Was it her fault that Ahnkar had stuffed her head with lies? I grimaced, then hung my head. Let it go for now. "So. What do we do about it?"

There was a long pause, then Dithra sighed. "These are serious charges to be brought against any dragon. To be leveled against two members of the council. . . ." She sighed again, then looked at me, quickly becoming alarmed at the decision she saw growing in my face. "No, Hasai! No. It will be difficult, but nothing more than that. We have Pasqual to use against Ahnkar, and her word will be more than enough to remove him. Ksstha, however, has only to face our deductions. They will not be enough to warrant his removal, but his-- illness-- is well-known. The added suspicion will damage him badly."

"And my children, Dithra? What about my children?"

"Once Ahnkar is deposed, I and the other remaining council members will direct him to return that which is rightfully yours. Stripped of his status, he will have no choice but to obey."

I looked at her. "You make it sound so simple."

"That is because it is simple." Dithra smiled. "But what about afterwards, dear Hasai? When you have your children back? What will you do then?"

I let my gaze drop to the floor, then I closed my eyes, my stomach churning. Trapped. By a manipulating bastard and his unwitting pawn, with the only way out the abandoning of two innocent lives to an uncaring fate; which I could never do. Check, and mate. Damn, lady, but you're good. . . . "My duty," I sighed "just as I have always done." I looked at Pasqual. "And you?"

"They are my children as well, my lord. I will be there."

I studied her for a moment, wondering if we could ever regain what we'd had on that tiny island in the Caribbean. . . . "So." A strange, bittersweet emotion touched me as I slowly turned back to Dithra. "Congratulations, my Lady; you have won. I ask only for time to put my human affairs in order."

"Granted." She smiled warmly, then, ignoring the shocked looks of both Stefan and Pasqual gracefully knelt at my feet and took my hand in hers. "But it is not my victory, dear Hasai. It belongs to all of us, and most especially it belongs to you." Her smile faded as she gripped my hand more tightly. "You will not regret your decision. This I swear."

I gave her a sad smile, then gently returned her grip. She held my hand for a moment more, her thoughts turned inwards, then she straightened. "Stefan, I will take Pasqual back with me this very evening. Wait until this time tomorrow, then follow with Hasai." She smiled at me again. "It is then that I will present him with his children."

Stefan silently bowed. Dithra then looked to Pasqual and gestured. Pasqual gave a bow of her own and left, with Dithra close behind.

"My Lady."

She turned.

"You put much confidence in the traditions of your council. Very well. But before you leave, know this. In the course of his instruction, Stefan informed me that our kind have other traditions as well. Traditions that we share with the humans. Traditions older even than those of your council. Traditions such as the Blood Feud."

Dithra froze for a moment, face paling slightly. "We have not known such a thing in over seven thousand years."

"Then I pray that you succeed in your mission, my Lady. For if you fail, rest assured that you will know it again."

A large, deeply tanned hand landed on my shoulder, and Colonel Spencer peered at the shifting images playing across the control console's video readouts. "How's it look, Sarge?"

I smiled. "Damn, this is great." I looked up at the field-grade; up into a face like a slab of leather topped with a crewcut of battleship grey, from which gazed a pair of strangely gentle blue eyes. "Sure wish we'd had this baby back in Europe, sir. Your people have done a good job."

He smiled back, then straightened. "Glad to hear it. I'll pass that along to them. So, do you think you'll recommend sign-off?"

"If the rest of the results look like this, I'd be hard-put not to. Is FEMA is going to buy any of these critters from you?"

He turned up his hands. "They'd like to, but these craft aren't what anyone would call cheap. I suspect they'll be hard-put to come up with the funds. Congress isn't doing any of us any favors, these days."

"Ain't it the truth." I sobered, then dropped my voice. "How are you doing, Colonel?"

His smile grew wry, and a trace of sadness entered his eyes. "Not too badly. Civilian life isn't the end of the world that most of us think it is, sergeant, and the pay is a damn sight better. Sometimes, though . . ." he paused, searching for words ". . . sometimes I think I miss you guys." He looked at me. "Word has it that you're thinking of retiring yourself. May I ask why?"

"I suspect for some of the same reasons as yourself, Colonel. No more windmills, and too many assholes." I sighed. "Why is it that all the honest-to-God officers seem to fade away like the morning mist, while the jackasses just go on forever?"

Spencer chuckled. "If that was a complement, I thank you." He looked at me questioningly. "And what are you going to do with yourself after you get out?"

I stared at my instruments for a moment, then smiled wryly. "I think I can say that I have a fairly long-term commitment waiting for me."

He nodded, then patted my shoulder. "Well, if it falls through, give me a call. There's a place for you on my engineering staff if you want it."

"Thanks, Colonel. That means a lot."

I knew the shit was going to hit the fan the moment my eyes scanned the room. Stefan, from the way he began to quietly hiss to himself, realized it as well.

Our pace slowed as we entered, taking it all in:

Dithra, neck drooping, coiled facing the members of the council rather than seated among them.

Seven elders now. Many new faces. Of the remaining originals two were missing, leaving only Ksstha, and. . . .

. . . .And Ahnkar, in Dithra's rightful place.

I knew what had happened in that room.

Damn, but I knew exactly what had happened in that room.

Somewhere in the back of my head Al Stewart was playing again, but this time the song was Roads to Moscow.

A metallic gleam near the opposite wall caught my eye. I looked, and for the first time saw Pasqual in her true form.

She was . . . like me. Long and sinuous, her serpentine form showing her Lung heritage. Golden cat's eyes gazed at me apprehensively from a slim armored head the blue-silver-grey of polished gunsteel, the spines that protected her powerful neck and back glittering as she turned to face me. A tangled mane of steely strands jangled faintly. Huge silver-grey wings shifted uneasily across her back, the tip of her wickedly spined tail lashing with agitation as I stared at her.

She was beautiful.

"You may study your mate another time, whelp. For now, however, you will attend me."

I felt a wave of loathing sweep through me as I turned to meet Ahnkar's eyes. He coiled there in the center of the gutted council, his head held arrogantly high as he stared back. At his side Ksstha crouched silently; his gaze looking right through me, lost in dreams of bloody revenge. I glanced at Dithra, studied how her silent form radiated shock and despair.

"The elder you know as Dithra is of no further consequence." Purred Ahnkar in a voice that made my flame surge within me. "The council has found her wanting, and she has been deposed. They then insisted that I take her position as Eldest until a more suitable candidate is found."

"And of course that search will take a very, very long time, will it not?" I snapped back sarcastically. "Is that the reason you felt it necessary to stock the council with your cronies, Ahnkar? And what of those two members I see missing? Could it be I just might find them floating face-down in some swamp somewhere?"

Ahnkar apparently had enough of a code of honor left to actually look shocked at my insinuation. "Certainly not! I will admit that they were pressured into leaving the council, yes. But violence? Dragons do not kill dragons." His jaws twisted bitterly. "We leave that to the humans."

Rage exploded within me at this flagrant hypocrisy, and it was all I could do to keep myself from leaping for his throat. "Noble words, Ahnkar." I snarled. "Noble words, for the one who murdered my mate and children."

There was the quiet hiss of breath being abruptly drawn in by draconic throats, and reptilian eyes which had been studying me so fixedly from the moment I'd entered the room now swung to regard Ahnkar, who appeared to crumple slightly, as if around some hidden pain. His gaze flinched away from mine, and in that instant suspicion crystallized into certainty. "That was an accident," he replied quietly, still looking away. "Do you think me mad? In what possible way could we have profited from their deaths? We sought to spirit away your child, yes; but that was all. We did not detect that--that creature until it was far too late to stop him."

He turned back to me, and I saw regret in his eyes. "But that does not really matter to you, does it?" He paused, then sighed. "Hasai, if circumstances were different, I would bare my throat to you for what I have done, and await your justice." His eyes hardened. "But circumstances are not different, and what would normally transpire must wait until after the humans are properly dealt with."

I stared at him as regret faded and arrogance reasserted itself, then I turned to the battered ancient that lay coiled at Ahnkar's side. "And you, Ksstha? What do you get out of this?"

Ksstha studied me for several long moments with eyes old beyond imagining, and in their depths there leaped and twisted flames where a soul had once been. Finally, with a long and hissing sigh he spoke. "Enough, young Hasai; enough. For now."

"Ahnkar will not let you kill the humans, Ksstha."

"Not all the humans, true." He tilted his head with grim amusement. "But he will give me most of them, and the rest. . . ." He stared off into the distance, his head nodding slightly at something only he could see." . . . .And the rest will know Pain. As I have known Pain. I am content."

"And now, Hasai, your life among the humans is at an end," Ahnkar rumbled. "Now you will swear your fealty to myself and the council and take your place at our side."

"That is not necessary," I replied, my thoughts racing. "When I discovered that your pawn had given me children, I knew that I now had an obligation. No, not to you Ahnkar, but to them. And I have given Dithra and her agent my word that I will serve, in the way that she envisioned. Give me back my children, Ahnkar. I will do what I was created to do."

Stung, Ahnkar showed his fangs in a quiet snarl. "And just what does Dithra say your purpose is, whelp?" He hissed.

"What it has always been; to be a soldier. To protect others from the ravages of Man until the humans learn respect and agree to share this world. Until dragons no longer find it necessary to skulk about in the night, hiding themselves behind faces of illusion. To see dragons fly in the sunlight without fear. That is my purpose."

"Then she lied, whelp. You were created by us not as a ward, but as a weapon. We will not share this world with the vermin humans. Rather, we will use you and your descendants to utterly sweep them away, both them and their works! We will return this world to the way it was before the humans. To the way it should have been! To the way it always will be!"

Stunned, I stared at him for a moment, then turned to Dithra. I was not cheered by the way she avoided my eyes. "My Lady, is this true? Was I really to be nothing more than a weapon? My children nothing but cannon-fodder? Was that all?"

"Hasai--" She broke off, then resumed in a calmer voice. "Hasai, I will not deny that was the original intention. But as time slipped past us, and the humans grew more powerful, we realized we could no longer win a war against them without losing far more than we could ever hope to gain. It was then that we began to seek co-existence."

"You sought appeasement, dragon!" Ahnkar hissed, no longer bothering with honorifics. "You sought to cringe at their feet, to beg at their kills like dogs! You sought a life that was no life! Better to die, dragon, with our fangs locked in their throat, than to live like craven curs!"

Ahnkar spun to face me. "And now, whelp, we grow tired of this pointless exchange. Take your proper place at our side, and bow to your destiny. Obey!"

That last word echoed and re-echoed through the vast room, at last fading into silence. Ahnkar glared down at me arrogantly, sure of my surrender. Beside him, Ksstha coiled silently, gazing at me the way a cat gazes at a mouse, his eyes glowing with a frightening, hungry light.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't intimidated by all this. This was madness. These people would cast our very future to the winds, for nothing more than a moment's personal satisfaction. How very . . . human.

Oh, my children, please forgive me. . . .

Grimly I stood my ground, ignoring the rising anger radiating from the council as I cast about for support. I looked at Pasqual. She held my gaze for a moment, but then wavered and looked away. Slowly, her wings drooping, she moved to the side.

With a cold feeling in my gut I then turned to Dithra, but she once again avoided my eyes, and sighed. "Forgive me, young Hasai. I am Eldest no more. I can do nothing."

But she didn't move to the side, either.

At last I looked to Stefan, to find him staring fixedly at the concrete at his feet. For several long moments he stayed that way, then, ever so slowly, a very un-dragonlike smile began to curl one corner of his mouth. He looked at me sidelong, and in his eyes was that glint of cold humor that I knew so very well.

I felt that same kind of smile begin to touch my own features. "You always were a great enemy, Stefan."

His smile broadened. "You as well, Hasai." He lifted his head then, to look directly into Ahnkar's eyes. "I regret to inform my lord that it seems that my long exposure to the 'vermin humans' has hopelessly corrupted me. I stand with Hasai."

Both Ahnkar and his cronies stared at Stefan in shock, for the moment uncertain how to react. I smiled grimly, heedless of protocol. "Your weapons turn on you, Ahnkar. Are you surprised? Haven't you ever wondered why all but the most foolish of humans have always preferred to work with stone and steel instead of with Life for their weapons? It is because Life pledges allegiance to no one, Ahnkar, and its creator can all-too easily become its prey."

Several heads among the council jerked as if from a blow at the deadly insult. Ahnkar himself was making sputtering noises like a wet fuse, strangling on his own rage. In my peripheral vision I saw Stefan slowly move to position himself protectively between Dithra and the council as I pressed my attack. "Little wyrm," I rumbled "have you any idea how much I despise you? You claim to hate the humans, yet you ape them in every way. They even have a special name for what you've done. It's junta, the overthrow of a guiding body; not by reason or popular demand, but by force. Mindless force. How very human of you, Ahnkar. You even hate like a human, did you know that? Without reserve or remorse, without even a shred of coherent thought, careening your way to self-destruction without the slightest regard for those you drag down with you."

The smile had finally become a carnivore's grin, and I felt that old, black, nihilistic joy begin to surge within me. "Are you quite sure you're a dragon, Ahnkar? The more I look at you, the more I see nothing but a thin paper shell, filled with nothing but arrogance and hate, with what seems to be a tiny, mad human for a heart, pulling at your strings and making you dance like the pathetic little puppet you are." I shook my head in mock sadness. "Ah, dear Ahnkar. Poor, poor little Ahnkar. You have far worse than my hate, little wyrm, you have far worse than my contempt. You have my pity."

Ahnkar went berserk. Suddenly he threw his head back and bellowed his rage with such violence that the room rang like a bell and dust sifted down from the ceiling. "ENOUGH! FERAL WHELP! IF YOU WILL NOT OBEY, THEN BY THE ANCESTORS YOU WILL BE FORCED!"

His clawed forepaw swept back, a swirling sphere of red-orange light forming about it, pulsating with his anger. Then he hurled it at us. The fiery globe expanded as it came, unfurling into huge tangled bands of bright red that reached out towards the three of us to snare and bind. . . .

. . . .But my hand had swept back as well, to plunge itself into one of the patterns that hovered about me at the ready. A curt gesture and it sprang to life. Behind me I heard Dithra hiss in shock as the pattern flared with blue-black light, eye-hurtingly bright, then darted forward.

The pattern unfolded itself as it flew, spinning slightly, then suddenly stretching to encounter those red bands that were descending upon us like the gaudy ribbons of some brightly wrapped gift. Actinic lines met bright bands . . . and sliced them in twain.

Ahnkar stood there for a precious moment, gaping in stunned disbelief as his casting shattered. Then he was frantically trying to protect himself as all that thwarted power began to backlash. Too late. A brilliant white flash and deafening thunderclap, and Ahnkar was cartwheeling through the air to smash hard against the back wall.

I chuckled nastily as I started another casting. "You folks always did use too much juice." Before the rattled members of the council could gather their wits I hurled my weapon. It flew straight and true, homing unerringly in on the council's brightly glowing torcs and their overabundance of energy, so-very eager to be released. . . . Too late I saw Ksstha coming in fast and low, ducking beneath my pattern and arrowing straight for me in chilling silence, his jaws agape. Then there was a black and green blur and Stefan was there; smashing headlong into the attacking Ksstha. Spitting and snarling like two enormous cats, they rolled and thrashed their way across the floor.

In the meantime my sorcerous rendition of a riot grenade impacted in the midst of the remaining council members. There was a blinding flash of light and a gut-punishing concussion, then more draconic bodies were tumbling through the air to fetch up hard against unyielding concrete or fall crashing into piles of storage crates. I followed up with several more stun bombs in rapid succession, hitting them again and again just as fast as I could, letting up only when the last of the opposition sprawled unmoving amidst the wreckage.

Relative quiet ensued; punctuated here and there by the sliding clatter of settling debris, the occasional groan, and a strangling noise as Stefan ruthlessly throttled Ksstha into unconsciousness.

I blinked dust out of my eyes and scanned the room. All-too easy. The element of surprise had given me the upper hand for the moment, but when the elders got back on their feet there would be hell to pay. Time to un-ass this AO.

My eye alighted upon a certain crumpled heap lying against the back wall. But first. . . .

The banded dragon awoke hissing in pain, to find himself sprawled on his back with my now-larger form astride him, my hind legs grinding his delicate vanes into the concrete and my talons buried in his throat. He froze, eyes widening, when he realized how close those talons were to tearing out his life.

"Yesss. . . ." His eyes snapped up meet mine, and I grinned ferally. ". . . .And in what way are you my superior, 'my lord?'"

The corners of my mouth curled down into a snarl. "You arrogant fool. You spend millennia creating me as your ultimate weapon, centuries breeding into me the most dangerous aspects of both human and dragon, and then you have the incredible gall to believe that I cannot defend myself?

"You bastard. Because of you, my mate is dead. My child is dead, and my mate's children as well. Everything I valued is gone because of you."

I clenched my talons in his neck muscles until he gasped with the pain, then I began to slowly draw his face up towards my jaws, where flames were licking about fully-exposed fighting fangs. "Ahnkar, it is time to die."

"Hasai, if you kill him, we will never find your children that still live."

I paused, feeling Dithra's presence behind me. "He will not be the only one who knows, my Lady. Others know. And if I kill enough of them, sooner or later the survivors will tell me, if only to save their miserable lives." I gave Ahnkar a vicious shake, my hellish grin growing wider as bright arterial blood began to trickle across a talon. "Won't they, 'my lord?'"

The banded dragon didn't answer; merely choked and thrashed in my grip, his eyes filled with a terrified rage. Behind me Dithra shifted, and I sensed the forepaw that extended to touch me, but then shied away. "How little you understand us. No, Hasai, none of those who follow Ahnkar will tell you; even if you killed them all. None. That is not our way."

I stared down at my prey, fangs aching for his blood.

"Hasai, we are so very few. Would you make us fewer still?"

I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. Instead, I grinned down into the banded dragon's face and gave him another shake. "Hear that, Ahnkar? You get to live a little longer. But not because you ordain it, 'O Eldest,' nor because I wish it, but because my Lady wills it." I gave him one final shake. "But never fear, 'my lord.' Sooner or later she will withdraw her protection, and on that day, I will feast on your heart."

I flung him down and left him there to cough blood and paw ineffectually at his lacerated throat. I turned to face Dithra, such rage smouldering in my eyes that even she stepped back. In the background the sounds of shifting debris and groans were getting louder. "My Lady, it is time to leave."

She hesitated, as if about to say something. Then she glanced at a pile of shattered crates from beneath which had just emanated an ominous growl. "Perhaps you are right, Hasai."

With me at her side, Dithra and I padded quickly for the exit. Near the door we encountered a battered Stefan, who was just releasing a limp Ksstha from a very human Sleeper hold.

"You okay, Stefan?"

He gave me a weary smile. "Yes, my lord." He nudged the dark green form at his feet. "And yes, so is he, my Lady; except for a very bad headache when he wakes." His smile faded. "My Lady, we have to get you out of here. The members of the council will be mad with rage--"

Indeed. One of the growls behind us suddenly escalated into an ear-shattering roar as the last entangling wreckage was flung aside and an elder charged straight for me with an all-too familiar look of murder in his eye.

"Out-out-out-out-OUT!!!" I snarled. Stefan reacted instantly, almost hurling Dithra through the doorway as I spun to meet the threat, my hand plunging into yet another of my patterns. I had expended all my non-lethal weaponry in the earlier skirmish; this pattern flared with a deadly light as I prepared to hurl it forward.

"Hasai! NO!"

I flinched at anguished Dithra's cry, then slashed across the pattern with my talons. It shattered and began to fade even as I arched my neck and launched a gout of azure flame at my attacker at point-blank range. It caught him full in the face, and his snarl became a yowl of agony as he rolled to the side, pawing frantically at his eyes. I backed out, deliberately setting as much material afire as I could with my flame, delaying several other elders struggling to reach me.

Pasqual! I'd forgotten Pasqual! I whipped my head frantically about until I spotted her, still standing forlornly where she had during the entire melee, neither helping nor hindering either side. Our eyes met, and for a moment I thought I saw something other than sadness and fear. . . .

. . . .Then Stefan was dragging me out of there. He got me clear, then sprang for the massive fire door and slid it shut with a crash just seconds before three elders smashed into it.

I hissed a curse at myself as the door began to shudder violently on its rails. "Brace it Stefan, brace it!" Quickly I began to scribe lines into the door's surface with my talons, connecting them into an intricate pattern. It began to glow as I poured power into it, then started spreading across the metal and surrounding wall like frost flowers of blue-black light. The shaking lessened.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "That'll hold them."

"But not for long, my lord. There is another exit."

I gave Stefan a pained look as the three of us turned and hustled down the corridor. "Didn't I ask you to stop calling me that?"

Dithra interrupted before Stefan could answer. "Hasai. What you did in there. What you did to that door. What by the Names of the Ancestors was that?"

I hesitated before answering her, then tilted my head in grim amusement. "For the moment, my Lady, let us just say that dragons are not the only ones who know how to wield Power."

She thought about that, and whatever conclusions she came to left her badly shaken as we thundered down one corridor after another.

Those tunnels seemed to stretch on forever, mocking our efforts, and soon my body was letting me know just how poorly designed it was for distance running. Somewhere behind us a dragon roared. Damn it, had we taken a wrong turn? Were we about to be pinned in some dark cul-de-sac down here in the guts of the mountain, to await out destruction at the fangs and claws of what bayed at our heels? The snarling behind us grew louder.

A cryptic group of letters and numbers stenciled onto the wall flashed past, and I breathed a sigh of relief at their familiarity. We twisted around a corner, then another. Then one long final stretch and the tunnel abruptly widened out into the loading dock area.

I found the controls for the blast door, and soon the huge slab of concrete and steel was ponderously rolling aside. The moment the opening was wide enough we squeezed through, and I used the external keypad to reverse the door on its tracks. It hesitated, then began to swing shut again. The instant it thudded shut I hurriedly duplicated the pattern I had drawn on the fire door, and soon the glowing pattern was spreading across the concrete, anchoring it to the surrounding rock.

"They will reach another exit and be upon us within a matter of minutes." Stefan studied the hillside a moment more, then turned to us. "My Lady, Hasai, I will attempt to delay them for you. If you take flight immediately, I might be able to give you enough time to affect your escape."

"They'll roll right over you, Stefan." I growled. "I will not see you get yourself killed for nothing."

"Then we are done."

"Not quite yet, my Lady." I glanced skyward. "Stefan, are all the exits operated electrically?"

"The ones on this side of the mountain that a dragon could use, yes."

"Good. Stand back." Sitting back upon my haunches I looked skyward, studying the low clouds. Then I Reached.

Winter above the 30th Parallel. So little energy to work with. For long moments there was nothing, nothing, nothing. My head began to pound from the strain. Finally, the clouds above me began to slowly churn. Thickening.

There was a click from the blast door, followed by a humming that quickly became labored as my pattern flared brighter.

A cold, damp wind began to blow through the clearing, making the surrounding trees sigh and sway as the clouds moved faster and faster. My mane prickled and began to lift, the blue-black glow of Saint Elmo's Fire enveloping the individual strands. Suddenly that wind grew warm as above us the sky rumbled.

Damn, but the servomotors driving that door were strong. In spite of my pattern's best efforts the door was beginning to move. A crack appeared and slowly grew wider.

Now. In one instant, the clearing went from near-blackness to brighter than day as a razor-thin bolt of purest power came sma