Chapter 22

Zevva had always been a spit and polish man, but no longer. His hair had not seen a comb in months, his clothes were a rumpled mess, and his body odor was horrendous. No one would come near or stand down wind for fear of gagging on the smell. The man just sat staring at the pictures of his children muttering softly, when not screaming out the order, "find the bastards that murdered my children!"

All knew that he was insane! In fact many of his people had left to find work elsewhere because of that fact, but there still existed a small cadre of dedicated men and women that would never think of leaving the General.

The General's operation was now broken into two sections. The main group was still in the Mercenary business, run by the General's trusted number two. The other dedicated group was with the General, searching for those that had killed his children.

Originally, Number two tried to comply with the order to find the worst of the worst in order to build a death squad. However, it soon became clear that those kinds of people would not work for the madman. Once they heard of the need, the loyal members of Vezza's original unit stepped forward to serve the old man in the Searchers group.

Since it was the profits from the main group that funded the Searchers, a problem began to develop in the ranks. The General was burning off a lot of the profits. That fact rankled the people actually earning the money.

Early on the General wanted to instill more devotion to the organization. To that end, he decided to use a profit sharing plan. Each person got a percentage of the take, commensurate to his or her rank, on top of their base wage.

The crew had been ok with the new arrangement for the first six months or so, out of sympathy for the deaths of the twins ... but now...

John gave up trying to keep the people that he now considered his family out of the active duty in the up coming action. In a state of rebellion they had all flown to the new base for a confrontation. Even before the group reached the spot where he and Rianna were standing John began to wave his hands in defeat.

All to no avail! The group was out for blood and all were yelling at John at the same time.

Finally, John stopped waving his hands in defeat.

Using his military voice, he yelled, "OK! OK! I GET THE PICTURE!"

The extreme force of his voice quieted the others, and John then continued in a more conversational manner.

"I'm sorry! Really, I am. But I'm tired of losing people that I love! You have to understand that."

"We do understand that, Big Bro. But you have to know that there are no guarantees in life. What will happen, will happen. So let's just cut the crap and get on with things. You know that you need our expertise."

John just nodded though he was still sad and very worried that he was about to lose more friends and loved ones.

As her pregnancy progressed Rianna lost some of her abilities. Mostly it was the result of the loss of concentration due to the discomfort of the baby resting on pressure points. The pain of her sciatic nerve was so extreme that Scott had to spend more and more time rubbing her back. By the ninth month Rianna was spending almost twenty-four hours a day in bed.

One day out of the blue as Scott brought dinner to Rianna she said, "Scott, I can't do this without a ring on my finger."

"Well, it isn't because I haven't asked you, you know."

"Yeah ... I know ... but I really feel different, now. Maybe it's the nesting thing that Mary mentioned."

"Well, Jacob has a Chaplain in his unit. We could do it right now."

"Oh, how romantic," said Rianna acidly, and she began to cry as if her heart was breaking. "Get out of here, you lout!"

"But Rianna? Sweetheart? I don't understand ... What did I do?"

"Get out! Get out you fucking bastard!" screamed Rianna as she flung the fully laden tray at the confused man. He retreated in fear!

He didn't move fast enough though. The tray with its contents slammed into his back.

Scott let out a bellow of pain as the hot tea scalded him, and a steak knife stabbed him in the arm!

The sounds brought everyone in the house running.

"What happened Scott?" they all asked at once.

"I don't know! She just went off, and threw her tray at me," he said as he showed his back and arm to them.

As expected Ann went into nurse mode and led the confused man away for treatment.

Mary risked a look around the doorframe and saw Rianna curled into the fetal position, or at least as close as she could get to that position with her huge belly. The young woman was weeping as if her heart were shredded into a million pieces.

Mary entered the room, closing the door behind her.

She sat on the bed next to the distraught girl and asked, "What's the matter Sweetheart?"

Rianna rolled her considerable bulk over and clutched at Mary and wailed, "I don't want my baby to be a bastard!"

Mary furrowed her brow with confusion, "Didn't Scott ask you some time ago to marry him, and you refused?"

"Yes," she said with snuffles and hic-ups. "But today he just said that we could get Jacob's Chaplain to marry us. Right here."

"What's the matter with that?"

"He didn't offer me an engagement ring or <sob> a real wedding, <sob> just some damn mercenary Chaplain here in the house. <WAIL>

The light came on in Mary's mind and she asked, "Did you want some romance, then."

Rianna nodded against Mary's chest as she continued to hug the older woman and weep copious tears.

"Ahh..." said Mary as she rubbed the distraught girls back. "Yes. I see. You want the white gown, and all of the fixings."

Rianna reared up in shock and indignation and said, "Of course not! Look at me! I'm as big as a whale! I can't wear a regular wedding dress! I'm pregnant! But I don't want some Justice of the Peace, or whatever. I want a real wedding with flowers and a pretty dress. Understand?"

"Yes, I do, Honey. Yes I do. Now you try to calm down and get some rest and I will get you one of my teas to settle you a bit. Is that OK?" asked Mary as she fluffed and fixed the pillows.

Rianna nodded and sunk back into the softness and closed her eyes.

While Mary had been talking to Rianna, Ann had applied salve to Scott's burns and cleaned the gash. Now she was starting to stitch up the wound as Mary entered the kitchen. Mary found all of the others watching Ann treat Scott's injuries—a nasty blistered scalding down the left side of his back and a gash on his left arm.

"Ow! That's a nasty burn there, Scott."

"Yeah, I know. I just wish I knew what set her off. I mean ... shit!"

"Oh, I can tell you that. Hormones, that's all, just hormones. The things drive some women crazy when they are pregnant. However there is a problem that goes beyond the hormones. That is the legitimacy of the baby."

"Hell! I told her that I want to marry her and she did this," he said as he indicated his wounds."

"Yes, yes I know that. But, you didn't do it properly. Your girl is very emotional, right now. She wants, no needs, you to be romantic ... a proper proposal with a nice ring, and then a nice wedding with her in a pretty dress. You know, all of the things that little girls dream of. So this is what we're going to do. We ladies are going to plan a great wedding and you men are going to get that boy spruced up with a suit, a ring and flowers. When she says 'yes', we ladies will give her a nice wedding shower. We have to be fast, because I think that she is very near to term. All of this must be done before the baby comes."

Mary gave John a look, and he nodded. The ladies then retired to the living room to make plans.

The shocked Scott regained his composure and said, "Damn woman! I asked her to marry me and she quite nearly kills me, and now I have to jump through hoops. I'll never understand women!"

All of the men murmured their agreement—but not loud enough for the women in the other room to hear ... they rightly feared retribution.

In the next room the women were hard at work on the first phase of the plan. Lists were made. Then the women scattered to pack overnight bags. This was going to require a trip to a place with good stores.

John was told, not asked, that the jet was going to be used for the supply run. He knew not to argue with the group of determined women. The only women that were not going, were Ann, and of course, Rianna. Ann was staying in case of medical problems with Rianna, and Rianna was grounded, 'till after the birthing.

The next morning all of the men let out a collective sigh of relief as the jet roared into the sky. With the women gone, the stress levels would be greatly reduced for the next couple of days.

Suddenly Scott's head snapped up and he said as he began to jump around nervously, "Oh shit! Holy shit! Damn! Damn!"

All of the other men turned to him questioningly.

"What? What's the matter Scott?" asked John.

"Rings! I need rings! And a suit! A new suit!"

The look of understanding crossed the faces of all of the men. John immediately set to work planning a trip to procure the needed things.

"The thing is though, they took the fast ship. We might be too late using one of the other planes."

"May I make a suggestion?" asked Joseph.

"Of course," said John.

"On one of my explorations I ran across an old guy that does jewelry. He lives in the second village over to the east, on that little finger lake with the funny shaped island. His name is Ivan Dimitri; anyway he does some really fine work. Remember that necklace that I gave to my wife on her birthday? Well he made it. I think that we should go there. It will save a lot of time and the rings will be unique."

Everyone turned to Scott.

"Sounds good to me."

"It's settled then. Scott, Joseph and I will go get the rings ... or at least, order them. The rest of you get on with what the ladies told you to do. If you need help, pull whoever you need from Jacobs team at the mine," said John.

The De Havilland Beaver roared across the lake then circled for a landing. The powerful nine-cylinder rotary engine announced to all that it meant business. The wind was in their favor. They were able to land on the lake headed toward the village thus avoiding a long taxi on the water.

Several people came out onto the dock to receive the mooring lines, having been given notice by the definitive sound of a revered Beaver, overhead.

John expertly cut the engine and floated right up to the dock as if on rails, stopping right at the slip. Scott meanwhile had climbed out onto the float from the passenger compartment with the mooring lines on his shoulder. The plane was secured and the men deplaned in minutes.