Chapter Two.

“When affected by tragedy or loss, you have two options. Let the demons of despair shred you from all that you love, or stab them in the heart whenever they appear.”

“The way of the knife.”

Major Tamil, Sword mistress Clan Kapoor.

Self doubt comes in the in-between hours of dark and dawn. When the land slumbers and the world is finally at rest; a time when Ravi's demon daughters of inequity and self doubt whisper their hypnotic songs, telling a young military cadet she is not worth her salt and doomed to failure. Especially when a young female who is standing watch on her last field exercise before graduation when all of her insecurities are whispering in her ear.

All of the lessons of battlefield tactics, trigonometry of troop emplacement, logistics, and combat capabilities scroll before her in endless columns of numbers streaming through her data slate, like the cold rain drops which were falling from a sky pregnant with moisture running down her rain cloak and settling in the base of her spine. Just when Tamari Kapoor, Military Cadet of the Kshatriya Academy began once again to drink from the well of self doubt, her guardian’s voice whispered to her from the shadows...

“A hunter or a soldier needs to walk the ground they are going to hunt or fight on. You must taste the air; rub the soil beneath your fingers. Let your soul, your Atman reside in the place where you will ask Shiva, Dread Goddess of creation to dance for you.” Her words came back to Tamari, helping to calm legions of self doubts clamoring for her attention. “Then after you have prepared as best as you can, know no plan survives the first saber leaving the scabbard. You must relax and take what comes with equanimity and calm behavior.”

Tamari smiled remembering her Sword Mistress, dressed in her formal saffron and blue uniform, saluting her as she was driven to the airship terminal where she shipped out on the rigid air freighter two years earlier shouting out, “Ya Jai Kapoor! Ya Jai Kapoor!” With her fist in the air shaking with rage because she could not follow the young heir to war.

One thought lead to another, with a series of conflicts with her mother coming to the fore, epic screaming matches fought between the two of them which seemed to slip away, as she recalled her mother's determination to send her to agricultural college and not allow her daughter to join a military which had gotten her oldest daughter killed. Tamari would argue back it was her life, even though she was now the heir, it was still her life to pursue. She threatened her mother with running away to another district where no one would know of her or her family face allowing Tamari Kapoor to enlist in a mixed infantry unit which patrolled the north western border.

Every night this became their routine. Screaming at each other with Tamari seeking solace not in her bedroom or reading a trashy romantic Bhopal digital downloads. No, she would go down to the crypt with her ancestors. She would find herself talking to her sister telling her of her desire to avenge her death, and most of all to protect her family from another occurrence of Atlantean snake drones.

Tamari remembered praying on bent knees. “There is a fire in my heart, Mistress of the universe. I am slipping the bonds of my former life. I am leaving the darkness, as there is a fire in my heart. I pledge myself to become your will made manifest. I shall cleanse myself and those who would bring darkness and destruction upon those who look to you O Goddess of Light, for salvation. There is a fire in my heart, I cast my soul through every open door, let me become your avatar. I empty myself of willfulness. Hear my plea. Fill me with purpose, and the will which shall allow me to become one who sows your righteousness, and reaps the ripe harvest. I shall bind myself to you, and your purpose. Let me bring cleansing fire and steel to those who live in the dark. I ask this in your one thousand different names. May your son Mitra the Guardian witness and bind me as I set the world alight with your cleansing fire. Please allow Kali your aspect of destruction and creation who dances upon the wheel of time, guide my steps. There is a fire in my heart, please bring me out of the darkness. In your name I pray...”

****

Every night before her bedtime would approach Tamari Kapoor would walk down time worn and etched steps to the family crypt and make her devotions. Like any ancient fortress of the Hegemony, there is only the silence which exists between a person's heart and soul. Within a castle as important as Kapoor Hall had once been, walls and ceilings were designed to hear and listen for court intrigue when once upon a time rumors carried the weight of deeds. Paravati Kapoor Matron of Clan Kapoor would slip into one of the concealed alcoves and listen to her daughter's nightly prayers.

Sati, her handmaid and wife of Kumar, pulled her aside one night when Paravati emerged weeping after listening to her daughter's nightly prayers, “Mistress, I have been with you since we both rode ponies charging at imaginary bandicoots in the back pastures. I am your humble servant, but I am also your oldest friend. If you do not allow her to serve her purpose, you will break the instrument by not allowing it to be tempered in the hottest fire. She will become weak and brittle. Let her take up colors and march away. We are watching a tigress of ancient Kapoor being birthed in the smallest of the litter. Help her in this or you shall risk losing her because you want to keep her safe.”

Paravati, mistress and matron of clan Kapoor sat silently on a little stool set aside for listening in darkened alcoves. Her friend placed the palm on her cheek in a soft caress, which slid to her shoulder where it gripped it firmly, trying to impart support, before it and its owner slipped softly down the dim corridor.

Night seemed to stretch for an eternity as Paravati Kapoor sat in the gloom fighting her maternal instincts to keep her daughter safe, at home with her and allowing her to grow into the woman she could become. Just before dawn, she arose stiffly from her stool, checked on her ailing husband in their bedroom, and went to her private study and began making calls to family members in the Red Fort Military Command.

****

In the jungle darkness and falling rain Tamari saw in her mind's eye, her mother finding her at the breakfast table, as she stood stiffly with her arms crossed and her eyes bright with barely held emotion. Her mother stood there in a black sari of watered silk. The one with the most severe conservative cut, which she normally only wore to formal occasions when she had to sit in a village court and give her judgment.

“Tamari come with me please.” She said formally. Her body language was both stiff and formal; turning away she marched, not checking to see if her daughter followed or not.

Tamari dutifully followed her mother into her private study. Once more I will have to fight her for my destiny. There, lying on her mother’s desk among the scattered accounts and paperwork necessary for running a large estate, a quick graphed memo bearing the formal seal of the Hegemony in bold ink lay open.

“Yes mother dear?”

“I made some calls to your Aunt. She in turn pulled some strings. I will not have a daughter of Kapoor of Kapoor sneaking off to become some second rate bushwhacker running with scurrilous, goondahs and bandicoots. If you are going to join the military, then you will do so properly. You are my heir and heir to our entire clan. You will represent us properly or I will haul your tiny carcass out of the Kshatriya academy myself and whip you with a cactus branch.”

Tamari went to hug her mother and thank her with a broad smile, when she realized what this was costing her mother. She was looking upon Tamari as if she had already died...

*****

Her daydream of home and how she arrived at this exercise was shattered rather abruptly, when an air burst of 200mm howitzer fire lit the entire horizon from side to side. Deep thunderous shock waves rolled across her encampment, telling cadets and training commands the final exercise had begun. 155 mm howitzers began lobbing star shells just below the cloud level, throwing bizarre undulating orange light into the eyes of the stunned camp.

Her first impulse caused her to flinch from the pyrotechnics. The non-lethal artillery barrage did however generate shock waves which caused leaf litter around her fighting position to dance, and give off an aroma of rotting vegetation and moist earth. Hunching down in her foxhole, she began to react to a dynamic evolving situation. The water which had invariably ran underneath her rain garments sent cold shivers across her skin.

She immediately began sliding icons on her tactical slate which allowed her to send a signal through a spider web of established communication fiber optic lines strung just before she and her classmates occupied their fighting positions. Passive motion sensors laid in a fan shape below her position began sending telemetry telling of a large movement sliding inexorably towards her as if it were a wave building to a foaming crest.

Tamari and her classmates' first mission assignment was to defend against an attacking force. But they were expecting for the operation to have kicked off sometime in the morning. Not in the middle of the night during a driving rainstorm.

“I smell the pong of Good Army Training...”

A dark shadow moved up behind her position with a uniform wearing reflective tape which worked in both visible and infrared spectrums. It was one of the advisers/graders. A gravelly voice called out through the noise and confusion, “Good morning Cadet Kapoor! How are you holding it together?” It was Gunny Sgt Patel, one of the senior NCO training cadres attached to the academy, who helped with the more practical development of cadets. She was mean as a snake, never missed a trick, and never, ever had a problem putting her large sized boots up someone’s ass when they needed it.

“Every meal is a feast, and every formation is a parade, Gunny!” Tamari half shouted out as she turned back to what her sensors were telling her.

Gunny Ratel, just grunted and slid next to her in Tamari's foxhole. She peered over the little cadet’s shoulder looking at her raw sensor feed, making the occasional grunt, when one meter spiked.

“Gunny, I worked my butt off preparing this fighting position, and those of my squad. We cut turf, stacked foliage and have used thermal masking capes to cut our IR signature down to nothing. So if you are going to stay with me or my squad, would you put out your God's cursed cigarette? You’re making me sniper bait.” Tamari said without taking her eyes off her scope or slowing down her frantic texting she was sending back to perimeter command.

Gunny Ratel gave her a smile, put out her cigarette, and in the flickering kaleidoscope of orange light, slapped Tamari on her shoulder, and just as quietly as she appeared, ghosted out of her fighting position.

Probing attacks happened all up and down the perimeter for another hour with smoke barrages coming and going in various places. Just as the sun was rising, another smoke barrage rolled through Tamari's location. Like the first barrage, purple clouds rolled up a gentle incline to where her squad was deployed. Only this time those beautiful deep purple smoke rounds contained a vicious tear gas agent.

“Gas! Gas! Gas!” rang out over tactical communication networks and data slates. Since Tamari had been placed in command she had relentlessly drilled and inspected her fellow cadets for keeping their field gear on them and their combat helmet on their head and not being used as an adhoc field expedient stool for squatting in the jungle mud.

With a haste bordering almost on panic Tamari reached behind her neck and pulled a small lanyard which caused a memory polymer rubberized plastic shroud to deploy. It rolled down from just inside the edge of her helmet and formed a hermetic seal around her throat, with a clear plastic polymer view bubble so she could see. As it formed a seal, the plastic shrank against her skin, forming a secondary epidermis layer, with built-in nano-fibrous filters.

On the edge of panic, she tried to marshal her thoughts, “Goddess in the void! I hate this fucking thing. Breathe! I can breathe! I am alright. I am alright. Calm down. I am alright.” She had almost flunked out of her initial training segment during Buffalo Barracks in her first quarter. She suffered from claustrophobia stemming from an incident where she had accidentally gotten locked into a wardrobe when she was five years old. Tight places and the inability to feel air moving on her face gave her what her father had called the Mad Monkey Shakes.

Just as she calmed down, she could hear fighting hole number three to her immediate left making gagging noises, which meant Cadet Sharaz the vainest cadet in the entire corps must have had her helmet off because it messed with her luxurious hair.

Over the fiber spider silk lines, she began to text an order for, “Number two send Singh over to check..”

Hand thrown artillery simulators exploded in front of her and her fighting position. Someone shouted, “Here they come!” With the rising sun in her eyes, smoke rolling through jungle vegetation, and having to try to see through her gas mask, Tamari had a panicked moment trying to see the opposition forces crawling through her sensor net within twenty meters of her.

A deep guttural combat yell of, “Hurrah!” Echoed through her body, as the 75th Recon Foresters came charging out of the jungle in their light disruptive camouflage cloaks, each soldier appeared to be five meters tall and made out of the stuff of nightmares.

****

Tamari Kapoor, heir to the matronage of Kapoor, bit her lips until they bled watching monsters armed with rifles charging seemingly right at her, and at the very last second she punched in her commands, which detonated a training minefield icon on her slate. Three hundred CO2 charged paint mines exploded in a rippling fire which made a cone pattern with the narrowest base starting from her outwards.

Sickly neon green nanite flavored paint which chemically bonds to fabric sprayed three of the four squads charging in front of her. “All positions fire! Fire at will!” She vocalized over her tac-net. Switching communication feeds, she dialed up her command bunker, made a report of infantry in the open at her location and called for anti-personnel fire on several pre-selected target reference points.

In her left ear she heard from the rear mortar section; repeat her Target Reference Point call for fire. She yelled back, “Affirmative!” With a slight pause she heard a two word message, “Shot over!” Half a minute later paint rounds began bursting above the simulated survivors retreating below.

“Shot out!” She screamed into her throat microphone. She began adjusting fire, “Left twenty, up fifty! Fire! Fire for effect!”

Moments later a dozen rounds came screaming in overhead and began a rolling barrage of green paint explosions. After the last round had gone off, over her tactical communications channel the “All Clear” message began playing, accompanied by a siren hooting in the distance.

****

The night before the official start of the exercise Tamari had been briefed after each evolution ended by an all clear, they were to pull out of their positions, shoulder arms, and report to their assembly areas for another mission or after action debriefing.

Struggling out of her foxhole, Tamari Kapoor looked up, and squatting at the base of an antique forest Teak tree, Gunny Sgt Ratel calmly lit a clove oil cigarette, while she stared at Tamari with a gimlet eye and a half smirk on her face.

Walking up to Ratel with shaking limbs which felt like plucked sitar strings, she looked her NCO adviser in the eye, and asked woodenly “Got a smoke you can spare Gunny?”

Ratel just reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a pack, and handed Tamari one.

“Got a light?” Tamari asked around the unfamiliar cigarette butt in her mouth.

“Want me to kick you in the chesticles to get it going for you, cadet?”

Tamari smiled as she inhaled bitter sweet smoke into her chest.

Ratel snarled, “Get the hell out of here Kapoor and report to your assembly area.”

“I have to go check on Sharaz.”

“No you don't. She is a no go. She has flunked this evolution at this time. She got gassed and is a casualty. Her ability to follow orders is also in question and she will be evaluated. You're no longer in command now. Get your narrow butt off to the assembly point.”

“Affirmative Gunny.”

As she walked away, Gunny Ratel said, “Kapoor you have come a long way from the skinny frightened and very angry Cadet I saw at Buffalo Barracks fully intent on a path of retribution. You have matured a lot. Keep your chin up.”- “Too bad she isn't going to be a combat officer. Damn good one she would have made too! Poor thing her mother made sure of that.”

Tamari smiled, ducked her head and felt her spirits lifted considerably for the coming evolution.

The next four days were a stumbling shuffling nightmare as Tamari went from one evolution to the next. Her classmates were separated from each other, taken to various active duty regiments, given tasks as diverse as organizing a three rope river crossing, conducting deep jungle patrols to contact, or having to coordinate artillery fire commands between units. All the while catching what sleep or protein packs eaten, usually as cold as her body had become. It dawned on Tamari that she was alive, and excited for the next evolution or challenge. On the fourth day her and her classmates were gathered at an assembly area known as Tea Kettle Hill.

“Welcome to your last evolution!” Tactical Training Officer Major Aardrani boomed out to the remaining thirty cadets. Tamari had started with forty five in her class. Poor scholastic performance, injuries or the unwillingness to master their fears or buckle under the philosophy of mission first, weeded out those who were unfit for command had whittled that number down to thirty cadets.

“Today is the day you find out if you have the inner strength of spirit to finish, when everything in your body and your soul wants to quit. Welcome to the Forge of the Gods. Those who make it through are different than when they start. Each task is designed to challenge yourself and your body. There is only pass or fail. Any who fail an evolution will start their field training again from the very beginning. Do I make myself clear?”

Tamari and the remaining cadets all shouted as one, “Varchasv ke lie! For Supremacy! Varchasv ke lie!”

****

It was at this point in her dreams Senior Lieutenant Tamari Kapoor was rudely shaken awake as the CC-45 cargo jet she was flying in hit a particularly rough pocket of air turbulence. It took a moment to realize where she was at. It wasn't her academy days. Nor was she training with her regiment and company in their cantonment down on the southern sea coast, where the mess delighted in serving the hottest peppers known to humanity with every single meal. No now she was in-bound to the Republic of Kazan for a one year deployment...

Tamari had been dreaming of home and life in the regiment, when jostling from the CC-45 Chhipakalee or Flying lizard Cargo jet she was flying in shook her awake. She clawed her way through a murky pool of jet lag, and deployment sinus crud picked up during her travels, only to hear the cargo mistress waking her troops up, as she marched down through the cargo hold checking on troops and tie-down straps.

"Fifteen minutes ladies! Fifteen minutes to go, wheels down. Wakey, wakey!"

Checking her chronometer, Tamari was still a bit confused. It looked like they were going to land at twilight instead of the normal full dark, most deployment flights tried to arrive at.

"Why are we getting in early Chief?"

"Caught a tailwind coming over the Kreek Mountains Ma'am. We are going to get in early." She shrugged her shoulders as she walked past, and said over her shoulder, "It happens sometimes."

The aircraft began to bank from side to side. one second the opposite wall was where it was supposed to be, and the next it was the ceiling and in the next Tamari was looking down on her troops strapped into their cargo seats.

"What the hell Chief! Why are we banking so hard?" Tamari yelled out.

"Surface to Air Missiles ma'am. This area is just ate up with surface to air missile teams, hiding in spider holes all over." The cargo mistress' reply was interrupted by a series of hollow booms.

Tamari just arched her right eyebrow as she stared at the cargo mistress.

"Flares and chaff ma'am. They also help break up a target lock for the SAMs. When we get close we are going to do what the pilots call a "Death Spiral" landing pattern. It also is designed to break SAM target locks. Remember ma'am all it takes is for some lucky fuzzy faced bastard to get off a shot, and ruin a perfectly good weekend." The cargo mistress then excused herself and marched away holding onto a safety strap running down the length of the hold.

"Shit I guess we really aren't on a training flight for a temporary duty posting. This is the real deal." Tamari thought to herself, double checking to make sure her gear and sidearm were accessible.

More hollow thumping noises came to her ears, sounding like a drum line from some demented college party. Then the 'Lizard' as everyone universally called a CC-45 began making a steep left turn as the engines went from idle to a higher pitch, which seemed to resonate right through every one's skull like a dull vibrating knife.

Tamari mused, “Big difference between a commercial jet and this flying metal tube. No expense was spared for comfort or insulation at nine kilometers, Goddess it gets cold. I can hardly think over the noise of the engines as well."

Looking out one of the four porthole style windows on the aircraft Tamari could see amber and blue landing lights, strobing to life giving directions to the approaching flight.

One of her troopers in a seat on the opposite side of the aircraft shouted out, "Look at the pretty green fireworks they are popping off!"

Gunnery Sgt Chavram shouted out, "Those aren't fireworks you idiot! Those are tracer rounds from a 23mm!"

A loud banging noise, not unlike the sound of a smith beating on a massive kettle style drum, began booming throughout the aircraft, as the CC-45 actually seemed to stagger while in flight. Sparks flew and burning insulation assaulted their noses And then their cargo jet made a gut twisting nauseating nose dive for the desert hard deck a kilometer below.

For a few moments everyone rose up in their restraints as negative "G" forces took effect. If the four engines driving the aircraft were loud before, they positively screamed. It almost felt like they were plummeting to their deaths. When they pulled out of their dive, they were flying below the level of the hills surrounding the airport.

Tamari said to herself, "We fly any lower and I can use cactus spines to pick the shitty chicken curry they served as an in-flight meal out of my teeth."

Red emergency lights snapped on with a soft hooting klaxon reverberating throughout the hold. "Brace! Brace! Brace!" a mechanical voice said over the cargo jets announcement speakers. Fourteen hours earlier, the cargo mistress had given her required safety briefing such as things they were supposed to do and not do, in regards to having weapons on board, such as staying away from intakes on the engine nacelles when running. Fairly basic Air Force survival stuff for operating in or around a cargo lifter, she thought. However, one of the items they were supposed to remember was the position one had to adopt when a possible crash landing was imminent and the importance of responding to the verbal command of "Brace."

"If it happens it happens. Since I killed the dagger faced tiger, I have been on borrowed time. At least I will be with my comrades."

Lt Tamari Kapoor, executive officer of the 2nd company of the 221st combat engineering regiment, had buried her denial of fear, five years earlier under three hundred and fifty kilos of dead feline. Ever since, things and events didn't cause her to go cold or cause her to become indecisive. In fact this lack of fear allowed her to see confusing stressful situations differently, and made it possible for her to take action while others were still struggling with their internal chemical reactions.

Tamari looked around the cargo bay checking to make sure her troopers were in the proper position. She could hear fervent, and ardent prayers bubbling through the surface noise of the jet like a spiritual stew set to boil. Looking rearwards she saw Gunnery Sgt Chavram doing the same thing, namely making sure everyone else's heads were down.

They caught each other's eye. They locked gazes, and although no words were spoken, an entire conversation happened between them. After what seemed like an eternity, Gunnery Sgt Chavram smiled a smile which did not reach her eyes. She nodded her head towards her executive officer.

A series of screeches caused Tamari to look over her shoulder through the porthole window. Filling her vision in the dying light of sunset was a bright orange glow which soon burst through access hatches, as the outside port engine burst into flame. Its exhaust streaming behind it looked like a rocket one would light off on their naming day party.

Tamari turned her head back to her NCO and locked eyes once more with her and shrugged her shoulders as if to say, "We might not make it."

Turning her head back to the window, it was looking very grim, as she could see leading edge sections of the wing glowing amber, then white, from the heat coming off the burning engine mount.

"Shit. I'll be damned, we just might...!"

No sooner had those transient errant thoughts tripped lightly through her cerebellum; their CC-45 crossed the active threshold and all but slammed down on the runway with a prolonged squeal of brakes and three engines in full reverse.

The cargo mistress, with a mischievous look on her face said to Tamari as she strode past her, "Remember ma'am it isn't the fall that kills you... It's the sudden stop at the end!"

Over the intercom the smooth evenly modulated soprano of their pilot announced: "I would like to thank you ladies for flying with Kiss My Ass Airlines. Please close your trays, and put your seats in the upright position. Crew Chief get these fine people the hell off my aircraft!"

Sparks began arcing through cable connections as smoke filled the cargo hold. Through the dim red overhead lights, Lt Tamari Kapoor could see the ramp at the rear of the aircraft lowering. All of the officers and senior NCOs began sounding off with "On your feet!" And "By columns evacuate through the rear of the aircraft!"

By the time her company had exited their aircraft, it was surrounded by firefighting equipment and base support personnel. A general utility vehicle met with her company commander, and she nodded her head, and then had her company rally on her. Soon they were sorted out and followed their company commander towards a massive aircraft hangar which had its perimeter surrounded by concrete barriers and stacked sandbags.

Tamari's first overt realization she was someplace totally unfamiliar came a few moments later when she realized although the sun had gone down in the sky, and it was still hotter than hell. A dry oven turned up on high kind of heat, lacking in even the merest whisper of humidity. And more importantly it stank. It reeked, above and beyond the normal jet fuel, and assorted smells associated with a combined military operations base.

"What in the living hell is that stench?" She asked no one in particular.

Marching next to her troops was a male Shikari perimeter guard, who replied, "Ma'am you might not have noticed, but when you flew in, you crossed over a fifteen hectare lake of feces. The base pumps all of its toilettes into the lake, where it evaporates and then contractors come in, scrape it up and use it for fertilizer."

Disgust crawled across Tamari's face.

"Yes ma'am, we try to ignore it but, basically we are breathing in our own shit."

She replied, "Damn that is just gross."

He grinned and gave her a sketch of a salute and as he faded into the distance, he said with a laugh, "No ma'am it's just Kazan."