Life as a New Hire Ch. 28

*This story plays fast and loose with Ancient History and Linguistics; be warned*

*Time is not your enemy any more than breathing and your heartbeat are inconvenient*

*Editing magic performed by KJ24 and Shyqash, plus contributions by the regular gang of brigands and neer-do-wells*

*There is a bit of mangling of the Iliad going on. I apologize to Homer and the countless singers before him who carried the Iliad down through the dark centuries until the Greeks figured out how writing works.*

*Since the Mycenaean Greeks still keep whining like little bitches, I have eased up on them for the nonce in order to give the Magyar mythology a credible mangling*

(A few hours later on the plane ride back)

"Luv, don't you have any male friends?" Delilah teased me.

"Hey now," I protested tiredly, "You don't go to a Jaguar dealership and expect to drive out in a Hyundai."

"Is Virginia going to be okay?" Delilah inquired out of the blue. "You know this Javiera better than the rest of us."

In what was yet another bizarre twist, Rachel, Mona and Delilah had hugged Virginia good-bye with some emotion. Virginia and Delilah had attached themselves to Tiger Lily when the fighting broke out and stuck with her throughout the battle, firing at and being fired on by the Seven Pillars infiltrators. To the Amazons, the fight was not their guests', but they had volunteered to help anyway.

Pamela had a quick conversation with Priya. She'd agreed to keep an eye out on behalf of our FBI agent so that no jumpy Amazon mistook her for an enemy when the Americans arrived. I had a terse good-bye with Caprica – this was her disaster to deal with, victory or not.

While my horniness had alerted her command when her pickets had failed, and while my mad dash for the bridge had been pivotal in turning the Seven Pillars surprise attack into their catastrophe, I was claiming credit for none of that. I blamed the spare phone at the guard post for Caprica's success. Miyako and I had been rescued by Shammy. Without Shammy, I would have died in a futile effort.

My humility vexed Caprica...it was so non-male in her eyes. She also 'gave back' Shammuramat to me. The Assyrian Queen was far more comfortable fighting the war than fighting for the peace.

As I hugged Virginia goodbye one last time, I asked her to hurry back to New York. I had no desire to explain this insanity to someone new. She came back with a nod, her emotions stifled by her official responsibility.

"Yes, she'll be fine," I reassured Delilah. "The very presence of Priya will calm the other Amazons. Caprica is far more 'open' than we could have hoped for. She is going to make an effort to work with Virginia. At least, as long as the Federal government doesn't criminalize the situation and lets the members of the Host go."

"What happens if they keep the Amazons and the children?" Delilah felt compelled to ask.

"It would make Murrah Building in Oklahoma City look like water damage in your beachfront shack," Pamela shook her head. "There are roughly 8,000 Amazons in North America and they won't differentiate between armed and unarmed government employees and their families."

"At what cost? You are already at war against two other forces," Delilah pointed out.

"At best, Amazons view themselves to be in a wary cease-fire with the rest of the World. The raw numbers of our enemy is rarely an issue. During the days of my active service, there were contingency plans for such an occurrence. We will move around in small groups. Amazons will rearm by overrunning rural law enforcement centers and recuperate in Canada and Mexico."

"With stockpiles of heavy weapons, we attack refineries, power stations, petrochemical storage facilities, railroad bridges and mine major waterways," Pamela continued. "We avoid major urban centers and military installations where you can react quickly and with great force. Instead, we eliminate Sheriff's departments and Highway Patrols out in the countryside.

Either the government lets us strangle their supply and energy infrastructure, or they come out after us. Out in rough terrain, in small patrols, we start picking you off. Once you are committed to the countryside, we double back and attack your air bases, destroying your warplanes and helicopters on the ground where they are vulnerable.

After six to eight months of this, the Host withdraws from the United States. We wait four or five years then attack again. We never ask for our children back, or the return of our imprisoned Amazons. No, we kill you, cut you and strike terror in your hearts until you cast them away like the toxins you have turned them into. That doesn't stop us.

We'll keep attacking until the Council is satisfied – preferably when your government collapses. A military coup will do, as will a civil war," Pamela grinned.

"Do you think the US government appreciates that?" Delilah worried.

"I'm sure that Katrina gave Javiera all three options," I spoke.

"They can help us and we will repay that debt with interest. They can help us and then betray us, at which point the scenario Pamela layed out goes into effect. Or they can sit back and do nothing. I'm not terribly worried. We know Javiera does not have the authority to control the commanders now involved. We also have faith she wouldn't unleash forces that would fuck us over either.

She'd rather refuse our request than risk pissing us off."

"As a male, do you really think they see you as one of them?" Miyako whispered from overhead. She'd taken the seat behind me on our private jet. I thought about the ledge of the Havenstone Commercial Investments building.

"I don't care," I reached up and stroked her hair and left ear.

"It is not my place to demand respect, or understanding," I related. "They WILL respect Ishara. Me having testicles is not an acceptable excuse, in my book, for failing to do so."

"If they don't?" her delicate fingers played with the top of my head.

"I will deal with the situation when it arises..." I huffed.

"...arises again," Pamela corrected me.

"I have no master plan, or set contingency. Knowing that most opponents will be tougher than me allows me to benefit from their underestimation. That outweighs what I suffer from me exaggerating their capabilities. See, I know I will fight no matter what, so it falls to me to fail or succeed."

"That barely made any sense whatsoever," Delilah snorted.

"It did to me," Aya piped up. "No sane person picks a fight with someone they can't beat. So, if they pick a fight with Cáel, they've already made one serious miscalculation."

"What would that be?" Shammy looked our way.

"That Cáel will ever give up – that he will ever admit defeat," Aya's intrepid gaze went her way.

"Dying is its own fatal confession," Shammuramat sneered.

"That is where you are wrong, Salmu Eretu..." Aya started to reply.

"Not even your youth forgives you for using that name. Call me..." Shammy said, dripping scorn.

No name came forth.

"Sērkuēn?" I suggested. Shammy's furor lanced through me. "You gave that name up when you turned away from House Anat and justice." In the Amazon tongue it meant 'She who kills'. How prophetic.

"You will address me as Shammuramat," she grew positively thunderous.

"Shammuramat is dead. If we keep this up, I'm going to start calling you Shammy to your face and we both know I'll do that one too many times. Then you'll kill me and all of this was for naught," I put my own spin on fortune-telling.

"You've got that right," she sizzled.

"Fine, we shall call you... Sakuniyas," I suggested. Once more we were on the cusp of violence and once more, I had cut Shammy off at the knees and trundled her rage off to its poorly-locked cage. I swear, I could despoil a nunnery.

"Spring?" Rachel looked my way. Sakuniyas was the feminine version of the spring season. It signaled rebirth, a fresh start and shedding of the dour cloak of winter, aka Death. Know your chicks, figure out their desires and pander to them. There was the minor complication that she wanted to consummate her relationship with my Grandfather, not me, but I liked a challenge.

"Is that an acceptable compromise?" I asked, while already knowing the answer.

"Finding you useful brings me no pleasure," Shammy/Sakuniyas grumbled.

"Does it suffice?" I prodded.

"Yes...yes, damn you," the angry tone failed to reach her eyes.

"I will let people call me Sakuniyas and answer to it when it suits me. Saku in case of battle, or other necessity," was her minimalist concession.

"I'm glad that's settled," I stood up. "Speaking of necessity – Miyako," I grabbed her left upper arm in a rough, manly fashion. "I'm going to ride you like the Pony Express."

"I have no idea what that means, but I think I like it," she beamed sexual kitten joy up at me. I am so truly, deeply and pathetically in need of professional psychiatric help.

"You know," Miyako snickered as I 'dragged' her to the restroom, "if we ever get buried in a coffin together, we'll already know how to make love." The space wasn't...actually, it was exceedingly cramped for dual occupancy. I can definitely recommend that every would-be Lothario have their own personal closet ninja. They are exquisite.

Sex with Miyako was snuggly warm (emotionally), tight (still) and close quarters. Miyako had trained thoroughly in the study of body movements and posture. She could determine what a person was thinking by observing body language to the point that eye contact had become superfluous.

She had joked about the cramped confines of our sexually secluded spot yet it was this level of contact she found herself craving. In our post-coitus afterglow, she had her arms draped over my shoulders and her calves linked behind the small of my back. Her right cheek rested on my right shoulder while she made endearing, playful puffs on my bicep.

"I will resent giving you over to Jovanović," she purred.

"Who?" I retaliated by lifting her up so I could plant kisses on her jugular.

"Selena," Miyako inhaled deeply then exhaled with sensuous joy.

"I'm not happy with you leaving, much less with someone thinking you can be replaced," I grumbled.

"Is this why all those women get angry with you when they find out you are not theirs alone?" she giggled.

"I think my dishonesty was a key factor," I confessed.

"No, I mean that you make us feel so good before, during and after sex that the idea that you could have been giving us even more of your time...it makes us jealous," Miyako murmured.

I wasn't going to argue the point that I knew way more about women and romance than she did.

Knock, knock, knock...

"Hey, Mr. Dishonest," Tiger Lily teased me through the door. "Some of us really have to go."

"We are getting dressed," I groused.

We did, Miyako looked exceptionally pleased and floated back to her seat. Charlotte had taken a middle seat so she could keep watch over both the cockpit and the rear of the plane. Rachel, Mona and Delilah had fallen asleep despite Miyako's and my voracious racket a few minutes earlier.

Saku (the genocidal maniac formerly known as Shammuramat) had pulled her armor out of storage and was getting ready to clean that and her hand weapons. She had the rapt attention of Aya and her Squirts, until my arrival brought Aya my way.

"Did you have good 'Daddy Time'," Aya smiled at Miyako.

"I had Great Daddy time," Miyako brushed some hair off Aya's shoulder.

"She's pregnant," Saku informed the plane. The look she gave me was a whole new expression for me to categorize...as I imagined the sublime horror etched on my face was new as well. First, Saku's expression – it was the 'how dare you fuck that woman to multiple orgasms with my boyfriend's body'.

Yep, I was pretty sure that was a new one.

For my part, well the 'practical me' knew I was trying to make little Isharans. But to the Man-Dog-Pig in me, the one who always insisted on wearing condoms, fatherhood meant...THE END!

I wasn't opposed to abortion. If she wanted one, I would back her up. If she didn't want to abort the pregnancy...well, time to 'Man-Up' and do the right thing. I absolutely knew it would end up in divorce, on grounds of my infidelity; but I'd try, damn it. I would do the best I could with my anemic, highly limited morality and unhealthy as well as unnatural sex drive. I would never miss a child support payment, or a minute of my visitation time.

Abortion, divorce and child support weren't going to be the issues of this union. I wanted to mock Saku's words, belittle her understanding of events and insinuate she was a cave-dwelling blockhead. The little excited squeeze that Miyako gave my hand trash-canned all of that.

"How do you know?" I tried to keep my panic from turning my calm voice into a squeak.

"I gave birth to three sons and two daughters," Saku studied me. "A mother knows these things." That, I didn't believe. Before I could take a deep, somewhat hurtful-to-Miyako, sigh of relief, she continued..."Also, having spent so much time among the dead, I am familiar with the sensation a fresh soul resonates with." I was Ahab, strapped to the Great White Whale.

I put my best 'Oh Yay, we are going to have a Baby!' face on. I would have rather chewed splinters at that moment than hurt Miyako's feelings. I had become a sap as well as a cad. How the hell did that happen?

"Will our child be a girl...or a boy?" Miyako became very respectful and demure.

Shammuramat studied Miyako for ten seconds then did the same to me.

"Daughter," she announced. What happened next caught us all flat-footed.

"We will name her Fushichou – Phoenix, after you, Sakuniyas," Miyako bowed to the Saku.

None of us were sure how Saku would take that. She had no immediate comeback either.

Eventually she gave a curt nod, then went back to her armor. Aya hugged Miyako, pressing her right ear against Miyako's belly – her very flat belly.

"What will her name be in our tongue?" Aya's precious eyes sought out an answer in mine. "Suwais-urāni," I wracked my mind for the proper word usage.

"Technically that means 'Bird that burns to ash' since there is no Phoenix in the Old Kingdom Hittite mythology. Neither flame – 'tāru', or fire – 'agnish' – convey the proper mystical meaning.

"Did you just name your first kid Su?" Pamela snorted while feigning sleep.

"It is 'A Boy named Sue', you 'Ghost rider in the Sky'," I grinned. Pamela opened up one eye. A smile blossomed slowly from her lips as she stood up.

"Yippie yi Ohhhhh," she said as I hugged her.

"Yippie yi Yaaaaay," I replied.

She wrapped up Aya and Miyako in a truly dysfunctional family moment.

"How did you end up knowing Johnny Cash?" Pamela regarded me proudly.

"Dad loved the man and his music. He wasn't a cowboy, but he was a lineman and that's some hard, lonely work," I explained.

"Cáel," Miyako tilted her head up and beamed me a serious dose of happiness. "Is this a happy moment?"

"It sure is," I grinned back.

"Can Mommy be next?" Aya hounded me relentlessly. I thumped her head.

"Ow," Aya pouted. "Should I take that to be a 'maybe'?"

"Why don't you go help Saku," I rechanneled her boundless energy. "Back in the day, every noble was attended to by squires who took care of their gear and served that noble as body servants. In turn, she taught them the art of war." Sakuniyas shot me a nasty look.

Aya poked her head between Pamela and Miyako.

"That sounds like fun," she met Saku's glacial chill with a warm spring breeze.

"I don't want their help," she grumbled.

"It sounds like free labor," Pamela smirked.

"I said I don't want their help," Saku snarled.

"Okay," I rolled my eyes. "Aya – Fatal Squirts – attention!" They all looked at me. "I command you, as your Celestial Potentate Poobah, to stare at Sakuniyas until she gives you a task of a personal – to her – nature to do. Get at it."

Four sets of precocious, will-eroding cuteness assaulted the Assyrian Queen, victor of a hundred battles and skirmishes.

"You are despicable," was Saku's chosen acidic barb.

"I second that motion," Pamela patted me on the back. "I keep finding myself being prouder and prouder of you, every day. Stop it," she teased me.

None of those words dampened my mood, or my plan.

"How much longer is this flight going to take?" Saku groused.

"Four hours," I lied. It was way closer to two.

To my way of thinking, it wasn't like she could get much angrier with me after she discovered my ruse. (I was wrong. She could and did. I'm an idiot.) Saku shook her head...and the task-mastering began. An hour and forty-five minutes later, the pilot alerted us that we were ten minutes from our final approach. Bits and pieces of her armor were all over the front seats and the floor of the exit-way space.

Diligent little fingers were still polishing and checking straps for signs of excessive wear or fabric fatigue. Their 'noble' hovered over them, pointing out the right way to do things and what they were doing wrong. Her congratulating them for doing a good job was rather non-Amazon of her, but the kids ate it up.

With the ten minute warning still hanging in the air, my duplicity inspired Saku to finally flip out. I was pretty sure she didn't think through what she was doing. She simply drew her 22cm/9in blade and threw it at my face. Miyako caught it between her hands...an effortless clap...fuck.

"Four hours!" Saku howled at me. "You said we had four hours...I could have held them off for two!"

"Why do you think I lied to you?" I kept my amusement out of my tone because I was rather attached to the idea of my wagging tongue not being cut out of my mouth.

It wasn't lost on us that every member of my SD team was alert and had blades drawn (firefights on planes in mid-flight is severely frowned upon) and were staring at her. I wanted to tell Rachel to 'stand down', except that would be unfair. I wasn't 100% sure Saku was done being furious with me.

Telling Rachel to set aside her instincts was something I tried to keep a minimum, only to be used when it I was forced to take in the bigger picture.

"What is going on here?" Rachel asked with professional calm. So, I told her the truth...the real truth.

"Oh," Rachel grunted. She gave a motion for her team to rest easy then came my way.

"Knife," she held out a hand to Miyako who instantly gave it over, pommel first. Rachel deftly flipped it over so she was holding the razor sharp blade then smacked me on the top of my head – hard.

"Ow..." I whined. "That hurt."

"It was supposed to," Rachel glared. She walked down the aisle to Saku, returning her blade.

"Did you just smack him in the head?" Saku was trying to make sense of what she'd seen.

"Yes," Rachel nodded.

"He screwed up and I impressed upon him to not do it again. As you might guess, this is a fairly regular occurrence with him. We all take wicked-fine pleasure in that part of his education."

"But you are his bodyguards ... is he really the Head of House Ishara, or was that a lie as well?" Saku was still confused by her prideful arrogance and how I was misplacing my own.

"Sakuniyas, Cáel was not raised in our culture. He has only been a member of the Host for a few weeks. This is not to belittle his impressive education," Pamela intervened. "Both he, and those of the House who know him, agree that the occasional physical chastisement works better than words alone."

"You could reward me with sex," I muttered. "Positive reinforcement..."

"Forty-six days, Bitch," Rachel growled.

"You are ferocious in battle – fearless and clever," Saku turned back to me. "Why do you put up with this constant degradation?"

"Degradation? I'm not insulted by what Rachel did or said," I retorted. "She is trying to teach me things I need to know if I'm going to survive. I respect her superior knowledge in her professional capacity," I continued. "I don't get upset when people tease, taunt, or challenge Cáel 'Wakko' Ishara...that's me, if you are confused.