Mountains, Mists and Myths

MOUNTAINS,

MISTS AND MYTHS

EDWARD KILLIAN

© Copyright 2014 Edward Killian.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4907-4245-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-4247-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-4246-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014913101

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Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Thirty-Three

Thirty-Four

Acknowledgments

T hanks to all those who encouraged me to write this book—for better or worse (I fear it’s the latter), here it is—my wife Pat, my daughter Becky, my sisters and brothers, and special thanks to my brother Owen whose suggestions were very helpful.

I also want to thank my friends Carol, Kevin, Priscilla, Tony, and especially Tina. I’ve known Tina since the sixties. She always referred to the Deity as Goddess. Tina has left us and now rests in the embrace of the Goddess. We miss you, Tina.

T his is a work of fiction based on Celtic mythology. I altered the established mythology to suit my story line. I drew on numerous literary works in my research. Among these were Dictionary of Celtic Mythology by James MacKillop, Oxford Press; The White Goddess by Robert Graves, Farrar Straus and Giroux; The Story of the Irish Race by Seumas MacManus, The Devin-Adair Co.; The Origins of the Irish by J. P. Mallory, Thames & Hudson.

Prologue

A prominent historian of the twentieth century wrote a book expounding on the follies of man. In the late twenty-first century, Homo sapiens proclivity toward procrastination and denial led to a second great extinction in which mankind’s inclusion was narrowly avoided. The denial of complicity in the greenhouse warming effect allowed the worst to occur. Climate changes developed incrementally; as normal patterns deteriorated, excuses proliferated.

For multiple reasons, the alarms from climatologists, oceanographers, and others in the affected fields were ignored. As the century passed, severe storms became the norm, with floods where none had ever been. Hurricanes and tropical typhoons increased in numbers and severity. Lengthy droughts, with other geographical areas suffering unusual heavy winter snowfalls, became frequent. Greenland’s glacier ice melt inflicted permanent changes upon coastal regions.

As the pace of eccentric weather increased the greatest human migrations in history began, over the following century, ceaseless waves of refugees swept the globe. For struggling nations, the constant refugee influxes added to existent hardships. Numerous countries collapsed under the strain, suffering rapid descent into anarchy and banditry.

Due to extreme weather conditions, crop harvests were insufficient for an overpopulated world. Initially, wealthier nations aided poorer countries. As the years passed, with little weather stability, nations hoarded their dwindling reserves for their own citizens. Times were brutal for failing states, their populations suffered greatly. Famine ensured a harvest of wasted bodies.

Those who survived starvation, being malnourished, succumbed to multiple diseases. Malaria, no longer controlled by United Nations control programs, flourished as did other tropical diseases which spread across the world. With little assistance from wealthier nations, disease took vast numbers in poor nations. Radioactive poisoning from regional nuclear conflicts also wreaked havoc on the environment.

The majority of the world’s populations were congregated in overcrowded urban areas.

Time passed, a new century arrived. The rising level of devastation waned. As the full effect of the warming trend had been slow to reach its ultimate destructive level, so with a return to normalcy. Mandatory environmental measures helped. Those who continued to oppose these measures resigned. In some instances, they either fled or died at the hands of angry mobs. Gradually, over the next century, the weather returned to more predictable patterns, too late for the many but much appreciated by survivors. It was also too late to return to days past. Flooded coastlines wouldn’t soon recede; coastal cities would remain as mythical Atlantis, lost beneath the seas.

The loss of so much human life had a purgative effect on Mother Earth. Land unfit for human habitation allowed other life to flourish. The Earth’s oceans were given a new lease, fish stock recovered; deforestation was of a bygone day. Forests began capturing larger quantities of greenhouse gases. The heartland of North America, vastly underpopulated, allowed American bison herds to increase across the plains. Similar flora and fauna recovery occurred around the globe. Tigers, no longer in competition with humanity for territory, spread across their former domain; wolves were sighted on the steppes of Russia, seen as far west as Eastern Germany.

A realization that the world’s problems were global, that they couldn’t be solved by any one nation (borders had become meaningless), forced the surviving world’s powers to form a world government to replace the defunct United Nations. They named it, aptly enough, the United World Government. Through use of their combined armed forces and much needed aid, less fortunate countries were persuaded to participate.

These centuries with their turmoil and great suffering were commonly referred to as the lost years.

The global catastrophes left no continent or country unaffected The stock markets remained stagnant when not depressed. To avoid bankruptcy, many companies were forced to seek monetary assistance from the government, now commonly referred to as the UWG.

As threats to humanity’s survival abated, it became obvious that inexpensive energy sources were an imperative. Renewable energy sources weren’t sufficient, fuels of bygone days were ruled out. Much land (commonly referred to as the badlands) was unfit for habitation, necessitating crowded resettlement camps. Metropolitan regions seethed with restive crowds, riots were common, poverty abounded.

The authorities instituted a top priority research and development program to resolve the crisis; they enlisted universities and international corporations. Government pressure ensured that investment and banking institutions contributed their share to the undertaking. The years passed with but slight progress, discontented mankind continued to endure their pitiful existence.

When a wealthy industrial nation brings all its resources to a solitary problem, it’s astonishing what can be accomplished, witness the Manhattan Project during World War Two, also the response by the United States to USSR launching of Sputnik. Now multiply this effort by many nations cooperating with their wealth and resources to resolve a single problem. The world’s research facilities were devoted to resolving the energy problem. All results shared, there was no holding back for personal gain. Research projects attacked the problem from multiple directions. Under these circumstances, much may be accomplished. Finally, in the twenty-fourth century, there was success, cheap plentiful energy with the harnessing of fission power. Electrical power was as in the glory days, when countries had all they needed.

Research in divergent fields led to other breakthroughs. Quantum theory left the laboratory and entered the world of practicality. Cheap fission dimmed to insignificance in comparison to a quantum physics breakthrough—another of humanity’s greatest dreams was realized. Einstein’s theory of relativity became passé with the speed of light bested. Well, not really, quantum mechanics only gave the illusion of light’s conquest. What mattered was it worked. The stars were now in humanity’s reach. The heavens would never be distant again.

Conditions continued to improve. Within the same century, factories were placed in orbit, pods utilized to transport raw and finished materials to and from Earth, industry’s contribution to the world’s almost destruction assured that heavy manufacturing would never again be welcomed on Earth.

Cloning, combined with DNA and multiple medical advancements, allowed for longer lives. News media constantly reported citizens celebrating their two hundredth birthday. These developments also allowed extinct creatures to again walk upon the world; live mammoths and dinosaurs became all the rage.

The asteroid belt was successfully mined. Hollowed-out asteroids housed mining settlements. Large deposits of ice, discovered in craters on the moon and Mars, assured their colonization. Outposts were established on the moons of the distant outer planets.

Lives were better, more leisure time somewhat soothed the restive population, but a worldwide unusual sociological problem arose: an antipathy to congested living conditions. The resettlement camps were no longer the primitive horrors they had been, urban areas had also improved, it mattered naught. The land reclamation programs were lengthy processes, much land continued to be uninhabitable, the badlands were slow to relinquish what they held. Cities had been death traps during the lost years; famine, pestilence, and riots had taken a great toll. People wanted an inordinate amount of space between themselves and their neighbors, the need perhaps to raise their voices to say hello, converse, or to walk a bit further to shake hands. To live in single dwellings surrounded by land was promoted by many, it was a commonly held viewpoint. Humanity had entered a pastoral age. The current generation had been heavily indoctrinated with regard to the why of the lost century, those terrible years kept alive through stories of how so many died, told by teachers, parents, aunties, and grannies. These memories were passed down from one generation to the next. Orphans comprised a disproportionate number of the current population, living proof of the horrors that took place, all well-learned lessons in this desire for a more spacious environment. Before the weather deterioration, space exploration via orbital computerized telescopes had been well established; planets in other solar systems, many possibly inhabitable, had been identified. As climatic conditions slowly worsened, with strained economies, aerospace budgets were initially cut and finally halted. Foundations, schools of higher learning, plus the dedication and sacrifices of astronomers and physicists kept diminished but functional space exploration programs alive.

As a long-ago television show put it, Space: The Final Frontier. The government originally had no intention of an expensive space exploration program, but the citizens demanded it. Space exploration for habitable planets was thought to hold the answer. Manned ships utilizing the Faster than Light drives were sent to ascertain if colonization was possible. Thus, a new arm of the military was established—a space naval force.

An elite corps was formed from the combined services to explore these unknown planets. These units consisted of five-member teams trained in survival skills and science fields considered necessary to planetary settlements. The squads were also extensively trained in martial arts and modern weaponry.

The most up-to-date tools were employed in the endeavor. Artificial intelligence satellites would initially enter orbit, rigorously analyze the atmosphere. If the planet could support human life, then and only then would the specialized First In teams begin a more thorough exploration. This was an extremely dangerous assignment, the mortality rate was high; unknown lands teemed with predators, virulent pathogens, and dangerous unpredictable weather conditions awaited these intrepid souls.

There were numerous incidents where First In teams were caught in surprise attacks by packs of carnivorous animals in overwhelming numbers. Modern weapons often proved ineffective with the creatures in such close infighting. They were issued large waist knives for defense. Team members asked permission to use swords, as many were proficient in these, and other weapons from bygone days. Permission was granted, thus swords, a weapon from centuries ago, became a weapon of choice.

The cumulative results of the initial explorations weren’t as encouraging as had been hoped. Many of the planets were airless dead orbs, others lacked water, there were those hopelessly enslaved to neighboring gas giants under enormous gravitational pressures, totally unfit for human habitation. Many viable planets were marginal, with scant arable land, but a fortunate few worlds were all one could desire.

The impatient populace displayed an utter disdain for excuses, the continuous clamor for colonization was too loud. The authorities surrendered to the pressure, a massive spaceship construction program commenced. These ships weren’t the sleek vessels the navy utilized, they were bulky arks. Along with colonist quarters, there were livestock embryo nutrient tanks, bins of seed stock, and myriad other supplies deemed necessary for survival.

The UWG allowed all who desired to partake in this heavenly diaspora. However, there was one glitch—all expenses incurred must be repaid. The future colonists were indebted. However, payments on the interest-laden loans were held in abeyance until the colonized planets were capable of repayment.

The exodus commenced, arks departed in all directions, their destinations carefully recorded. Years passed, the colonization program’s outcome was mixed. Some colonies succeeded beyond expectations, many struggled on bare subsistence, heavily reliant on UWG aid. There were, unfortunately failures, arks lost in space—never again to be heard from. Some endeavors collapsed due to unforeseen circumstances, tragically a few with great loss of life. As the years passed, the First In teams were often used to suppress criminal activities and the occasional despotic usurper in colonies far from UWG authority As quickly as problems were resolved, invariably new complications ensued. The spaceship-building program demanded enormous resources, prices for the metals utilized in ship construction on the domestic markets were high.

The colonies’ intentions were to be pastoral societies, quite parsimonious in utilizing natural resources. The UWG allowed the debts to be slowly repaid, the colonies could ration use of their precious reserves. Sadly, this charitable policy was savagely violated by unknown parties. Isolated sparsely populated colonies were attacked by unmarked heavily armed FTL ships. Once defenses were destroyed, factory vessels would descend. The marauders then relentlessly gathered the desired ore. Robotic machines separated the detritus from the ore. After this was accomplished, the marauders quickly departed. Brutality was used to intimidate the settlers. The raids exhibited military precision, also a foreknowledge of defense and mineral locations.

Notable historical changing events do not patiently wait for an auspicious moment, they evolve and occur when they will. What now transpired was more earthshaking than past epochal moments: Gutenberg’s movable type, the Enlightenment, to name a few such major historic occurrences.

A deep space encounter caused the raids to fade to insignificance, excepting to those directly affected, of course. A naval vessel, while exploring a remote sector of the galaxy, received inexplicable signals from an until then unexplored solar system. Upon investigation, to their total amazement, they discovered an inhabited Earth-like planet. Exploratory probes were immediately launched. These miniature spacecraft were silver, slightly larger than a beachball. The exteriors had numerous small protuberances, each performed a separate task. These marvelous up-to-date electronic devices ceased to function upon entering their designated orbits, that is, all but one. That singular exceptional machine proceeded to do the impossible—communicate verbally with the exploratory ship. When it had been launched, it lacked the means to do this. It was doing the impossible. Standard procedure was to amass data and electronically transmit same to the point of origin where it was translated. It was totally impossible for verbal communication to take place. Nevertheless, the probe conveyed a simple message in the common spoken language: Make your superiors aware of this contact, then we will discuss in depth more important matters. When asked the name of their planet, the UWG ship was informed it had no name, it was duly noted in the ship’s log. A simple programmed AI questioned the planets name and was informed to follow the log entry, not to deviate from established procedure. Thus, the planet was hereafter known as No Name Planet.

An attempt to land on the planet was blocked by a hereto unknown field which surrounded the said planet. When the ship met this invisible barrier, it ricocheted off the unseen shield with no harm to the vessel or those aboard, but the ship was denied entry to the world’s atmosphere.

It didn’t take long for high officers in the navy, accompanied by UWG bureaucrats, to arrive. The whoever or whatever utilizing the satellite made a startling proposal. Aware of and sympathizing in UWG’s difficulty in locating viable planets, they would, as a sign of good will, release the coordinates of an uninhabited Earth-like planet, a veritable Eden. It refused the UWG offer to dispatch a negotiating team to the planet’s surface. It made a counteroffer: they would send one individual of the satellite possessor’s choosing, this person would be their representative, he would report on all that occurred. There were loud protests at this request, but begrudgingly, they accepted. This dissent was as a murmur when they learned the disembodied voice wanted former major Jon Strider, UWG screams of outrage could be heard in the next galaxy. Jon was well-known to them. He had been deemed a troublemaker and forced to resign in a scandal of epic proportions from the elite First In force.

ONE

J on Strider and the No Name Planet—one couldn’t be said without the other, they were synonymous. All the historians of this era agreed on one fact: if Jon Strider hadn’t existed, they would have had to invent him. It was inconceivable not having such a person. His exploits became legendary.

Jon had been born in Ireland. While Jon was quite young his family immigrated to North America. In his early teens, they returned to Ireland.

After graduating from college, Jon enlisted in the military. He was accepted as a First In recruit. Jon soon achieved NCO rank, his career appeared on a fast track to success after a rocky start.

Sgt. Jon Strider became a darling of the media when he saved a UWG marine force from annihilation during a skirmish with a guerilla force on a colony world. The military command were of two minds with regard to Jon’s actions; he had acted heroically in rallying the troops, but he had been openly insubordinate to the unqualified terrified officer in charge. The complete story of how Sgt. Jon Strider led the tattered marine company from their untenable position to reunite with the main force was hushed up.

In recognition of Jon’s potential, he was accepted in officer candidate school, where it was thought being an officer would teach him to be more circumspect with regard to military protocol.

Unfortunately, enlisted personnel or officer, Jon continued his outspokenness. Eventually, Jon, after many dangerous assignments and in recognition of superb negotiating skills, was assigned to a leadership position. He excelled in mediation with recalcitrant colonies. Again unfortunately, Jon’s unconventional methods and open criticism of his superiors with regard to their response, or lack of same, to marauder attacks led to a scandal. To avoid a court-martial and an assured guilty verdict, Jon resigned his commission.

Upon his discharge, Jon returned to Ireland. He now indulged his lifelong obsession with Celtic culture. He reentered college. Jon was honored by being allowed to attend actual classes rather than rely upon the virtual campus frequented by most students. His personal discipline and keen intellect allowed Jon to excel in his studies. Upon achieving his doctoral in Celtic/Irish studies, he soon was offered a position with a prestigious school. Jon was highly respected within academia as an acknowledged expert on Celtic history, culture, and language.

Jon knew he was secretly watched by UWG agents, but since he wasn’t deemed an active threat, they left him to his new career.

Three days after Jon received a hand-delivered, signature-required letter marked IMPORTANT, GOVERNMENT BUSINESS, they came for him. The letter stated he had been recalled to active duty, the rarity of anything written and delivered by a person attested to its importance. Jon signed the receipt, bid the courier good day, and reentered his cottage. After he read it, irked by the arrogance of being ordered by them to report to the nearest naval base within twenty-four hours, Jon tore it up. When the knock on his door occurred, Jon had been busy speaking to his graduate students. Jon had an eccentricity which amused his students greatly. He held AIs in low regard. Jon wouldn’t tolerate his students using them in class, regardless that attendance was not in person. They were not to speak to the AIs during classes nor were their computer AIs allowed to participate in classroom discussion. Jon was of the opinion that they had no right to waste his time by intruding into his classes. He was an exception in the academic world with his strictness in this regard.

Jon, while in the military, had witnessed several disasters by officers over reliance on AI advice. Combat situations events continuously changed. Analyzing the situation, comparing mass data rather than immediate adaptation to changing events, was what the AI programs deemed necessary for success.

Jon gave assignments to his students and bade them a good day. He stood and stretched, his muscles tight from so much sitting. He changed into more casual clothing fit for exercise. Jon soon was running his usual five miles over the country lanes, waving to farmers and shepherds he passed, who waved back. He returned feeling better for the workout.

Since his abrupt retirement from the military, Jon dwelled in an isolated countryside cottage, he had a somewhat reclusive lifestyle. It was a bucolic existence, his neighbors and the townsfolk respected this preference to be left alone.

Jon’s cottage was a simple structure. With resources scarce, there had been a return to the old ways. The cottage had a thatched roof, it was over two centuries old with whitewashed exterior walls. It was simply furnished, a perfect bachelor domicile, consisting of little more than a small all-purpose room, kitchen with an eating nook, plus a bedroom. Its rear yard, shielded by an ancient hedgerow, was an open area bordered by an herb garden. This secluded area was where Jon practiced with his sword and martial arts. He had been looking forward to a workout as a reward for ending the session with his students.

Jon’s concentration was disrupted by an insistent loud banging on his door, it was quite annoying. He ignored the repeated shouts to open up until he gauged they were about to break down the door. He opened it to face angry local police officers accompanied by two NCO First In troopers. They were two sergeants that Jon knew well and considered old friends.

The special ops troopers wore dress uniforms, they greeted Jon warmly. If uncertain of their reception, they needn’t had worried, it had been long since Jon had seen any of his former comrades in arms. Any bitterness was directed at the high command, never at them. Jon nodded to the police and apologized for his slowness in responding to their knocking. They accepted his apology and returned to their patrol car, leaving explanations to the two First In NCOs. The older of the two, a scarred trooper, broke the silence.

Jon, you old sorry dog, how have you been? Apologies for intruding, but you were notified. They’re serious about this, Jon. We’re instructed to escort you to a naval base and then to a space shuttle ASAP. Oh yeah, you’re to bring your sword, ha! As if you wouldn’t. We’ll carry it if you don’t mind. Why you want to lug it around after the trouble it’s gotten you into beats the hell out of me, but that’s your business. Later, your personal effects will be shipped to you.

Jon replied genially, Well, shit, not really giving me a choice, are you? One question though, my students are going to miss me, they’ll ask questions.

Don’t worry about them, it’s been arranged for a colleague to sub for you, explanations already given. Fortunately, with you living out here in the boonies, there’s no worries about neighbors, and yes, your house will be secured.

Jon nodded, he reentered the house, returned shortly with an already-packed bag. Knew there was no avoiding you people. The sooner we straighten this out, the sooner I’ll once again be a happy fella. His sardonic comment wasn’t lost on them.

The trip to the UWG naval station was the perfect time for Jon to catch up on the doings of his former comrades, where they were and what’s been happening. He was troubled but not surprised to hear of growing trouble with the colonies. They had been slapped with a burdensome tax for a totally ineffective navy response to the emboldened marauders.

He was pleased, however, when he heard of strong resistance to UWG pressure by the Confederation of Five. All studiously avoided any reference to Jon’s departure from the service. The two First In vets said their good-byes at the base, they fondly wished Jon well and cautioned him to be careful.

MPs escorted Jon to the shuttle craft, which would take him to a large lunar naval base.

The pilot, copilot, and the MPs were uncommunicative, Jon soon gave up any effort to gain information. It did, however, feel good to be once again off-planet. The shuttle craft was a standard gray military vessel of a strictly utilitarian design. It seated ten. The craft’s large wings would retract to stubs upon leaving the atmosphere. Then they were used solely to guide the ship into its berthing bay.

Upon arrival at the naval base, still under guard, Jon was shown to private quarters. The confining single living quarters more resembled a cell in his estimation. It contained a toilet, a sink, a metal closet, and a bunk with a folding table. Laid out on the cot was an officer’s dress uniform, devoid of insignias or anything denoting rank. Tucked neatly on the deck beneath the bunk was a pair of highly polished military dress boots. Jon’s escort suggested he rest. When awakened, there would be sufficient time to eat, bathe, and get dressed. He would then be taken to a conference where all would be explained. Jon privately agreed with the rest part, he best be prepared for whatever was to occur.

When Jon was roused, he shaved, showered, ate the dinner set out for him, then signaled he was now ready, let’s get the show on the road. Unnecessarily, in Jon’s opinion, it was pointed out he was still dressed in his original clothes and scruffy boots. Jon indicated unless they elected to use force, so he would remain. Reluctantly, the guards didn’t press the issue, Jon was taken to the conference room.

As Jon expected, he and his escort were the first to arrive, that is if one excluded MPs placed about the room. The chamber looked to Jon like a courtroom. It consisted of an highly polished long oaken table with plush chairs, a judge’s table in front, facing the others with a separate small table and chair to which Jon was led. Two UWG flags were on either side of the entryway. Holographic photographs of the current UWG prime minister, the commander in chief of UWG Naval Forces, and the commandant of marines were mounted on the wall.

Someone shouted, Attention! The MPs immediately came to ramrod attention, Jon ignored the commotion and continued to slouch in his chair, that is until two burly guards grabbed him and forced Jon to, if not stand at attention, then at least to stand. So they stood as the VIPs filed into the room. They numbered six, divided between civilian and field grade officers, included among the officers was the commanding officer Brig. Gen. Karl Simpsoni of First In forces. Jon knew him personally. They had, off base, a friendly informal relationship. The general had sympathized with Jon’s plight but declined to help. Jon was curious who the civilians were, he’d knew he would find out eventually. One of the last two to enter was a high-ranking admiral whom Jon recognized. He was Admiral Logboda, a full admiral of the fleet. As Jon expected, he took the judge’s seat. The admiral was a stern by-the-book officer. He was accompanied by an expensively dressed male civilian. Everyone took their seats, the distinguished civilian sat last, thus the pecking order was established. It took a while as people opened their briefcases, arranged papers in front of them, straightened themselves in their chairs, and cleared their throats.

An MP officer announced, Please rise, the United World Government Army Board of Inquiry is now in session! Admiral Logboda presiding!

While everyone took their seats, Admiral Logboda stared puzzled at Jon. The admiral motioned for an MP to approach him, the two held a low conversation while gesturing in Jon’s direction.

Soldier, would you please tell me why you’re not wearing the uniform laid out for you? The admiral spoke with an authoritative voice. He expressed no anger, just a genuine puzzlement at Jon’s appearance minus the uniform.

Jon took his time, he casually replied, Admiral, earlier, I was home, grading my students, when I was interrupted and forced to come here. I was told I would be given an explanation, which by the way, I still haven’t gotten. As for that uniform, some years ago, I was told I was unfit to ever again wear it. The last time I faced such an august company, my choice was to either resign or face a court-martial with the certainty of a guilty verdict and then to vanish into a penal colony.

Jon spoke stoically, but his voice did catch a tad on the word uniform. For many years, I was proud to wear it and be called soldier. Now I’m not in any hurry to wear it or to be called by anything but my name. I’ll accept doctor if you insist upon a title.

Admiral Logboda listened. He made no reply when with a loud cough, the mysterious expensively dressed suit drew everyone’s attention. The gentleman’s demeanor spoke volumes of his high stature in the government. Admiral, allow me, please … Jon, if you please, let’s skip formalities. My name is Hassan Collins, you may call me Hassan. This is a court of inquiry to ascertain why you and no one else will suffice for a mission of the utmost importance. It will all be explained to you in due time. I represent the prime minister. You, my friend, have moved up to the big-time. Much rests on you, Jon. I hope we have your cooperation, we won’t force you to assist us, but— Hassan stopped speaking, startled by Jon who got to his feet and strolled toward the exit.

Someone stop that man! Sir, just where do you think you’re going?

Jon, blocked by MPs at the door, turned and replied, Admiral, I was just told if I didn’t wish to cooperate, I wouldn’t have to. I don’t want to, so I’m leaving.

The admiral, irritated, replied, Mister, I’m quickly getting tired of this attitude. You’re not going anywhere until you’re told you may. This hearing isn’t over. Please take your seat. We heard you on your retirement from the service. Now if you’ll be patient, we’ll soon be finished.

Jon returned to his chair and sat down, he just wished they would make up their mind. He did agree with Admiral Logboda, he also wanted this over.

Hassan again spoke, As I was about to say, Jon, earlier you expressed bitterness at how you’ve been treated. There’s usually two sides to events, narratives if you will. We heard yours, we have ours. In our narrative, a certain sword plays a major role, namely your sword. Would you fill us in as to why you always have it with you.

Jon knew the whole sordid mess was again to be played out, he didn’t regret his actions, but it was impossible to justify to individuals who had already reached the conclusions they wanted.

Jon explained that First In units were encouraged to carry backup weapons. There would be times army-issued weapons wouldn’t be suitable, such as close infighting, plus for esprit de corps, a dash of élan suitable for elite forces. This personal weaponry could be of the trooper’s choosing: throwing knives, poison darts, and, if one desired, a sword. In college, Jon had been on the fencing team where he excelled. Upon graduation, Jon joined a private club where he practiced with all types of swords. Jon loved it, he favored a modified Japanese samurai sword but was proficient with other styles. Jon used a back scabbard, and with constant practice, he could, in one motion, draw and strike a target with enough strength to decapitate the dummy. Upon joining the ranks of First In, it was natural for Jon to choose a sword.

Jon had, from his initial fondness for swords, become enamored of knives. He considered them the perfect backup for his sword. Hours of daily practice with his sword and throwing knives, plus practice with ex-army experts in close-in knife fighting, made Jon quite capable with both forms of weaponry. This wasn’t public knowledge, it remained private knowledge, known to only a