Not With A Whimper: Destroyers

by D. A. Boulter

  “You have quite a view from here,” Karl said, looking out the front window.

  “Yes, yes. And in my younger days, I enjoyed it much more than I do today.”

  “Oh? Why is that?” He couldn’t understand why such magnificence would wear on the old man.

  Paulo grinned. “Because I see the hill, and know that I cannot run up it as once I did. The view of the ocean makes me wish to walk down to the water, but if I do so, I know that I must exhaust myself in the return.” He laughed.

  Karl nodded, though he now thought the possibility of reaching an age where he could not walk up the hill almost beyond dreaming. He felt that death would find him long before old age might.

  The beers arrived, and they sat companionably, looking out the window at Paulo’s view, seeing the white clouds drifting across the sky.

  “Have you given further thought to what I said back at the confectionery?” asked the old man.

  Karl sighed to himself. He did not want to think about that at all, but the old man’s words had forced him to. “About me being a destroyer?”

  “Yes, yes, about that.”

  Karl sighed. “You may have a point. Yet I do not see how we can change things. Were we to disarm, the others would perceive us as weak, and act on that perception.”

  Paulo looked up to the sky. “Yes, it takes much courage to lead. Less so to follow. And fear, fear holds us back from doing what we know is right.” He looked over to Karl. “Tell me, young man, how much does one of your shuttle-fighters cost – fully armed, fully fuelled, fully crewed, fully supported by mechanics, housed by armoured shelters?”

  Karl swallowed a mouthful of very good-tasting beer. “I don’t think I have the figures available, Paulo.”

  He heard a laugh. “No, I think perhaps they do not wish to let the people know the true cost. Let us compromise and agree that the cost runs very high,” he chuckled, “even into the thousands.”

  Karl relaxed back into the chair. “I think we can agree that it costs at least thousands.”

  “And how many shuttle-fighters have you at your base … no, no, I know you cannot answer this question, so let me answer it for you. We all – all islanders – know that you have twenty-nine. Twenty-five ready at all times, four in reserve for those that go down for maintenance or repairs.”

  Command wanted that number kept a secret, though how they expected to keep it so, Karl didn’t know. But he couldn’t confirm the number. It would cost him dearly were he to do so and Command discovered his indiscretion.

  “Let us, for sake of this discussion, assume you have the correct number.”

  He saw a twinkle in the old man’s eyes. “Yes, let us assume. So, we have twenty-nine times thousands of Euros – the new ones. Do you know, I could upgrade this house, double my solar panels, provide electricity to my neighbour, for those twenty-nine thousand? Yes, and I could incorporate a greenhouse and double my production of food. And I would have money left over to put in the bank for a hard winter.”

  “I suppose so; I don’t have those figures either.”

  “No, you have other figures in mind – as did I when I had your years. You have figures like rate of climb, number of weapons you can let loose at the enemy, number of times you can adjust your course before needing to return to a base for fuel. I carried – in my mind – the number of rounds of ammunition I had remaining, the amount of water in my canteen, the days I could go without re-supply, how far I could walk in a day or an hour in various terrains. Things that I needed in order to live while destroying my enemy.”

  The day had taken a turn for the worse. Perhaps he had made a mistake in coming here. But he tired of the base, of taking lonely walks by the ocean, of waiting to hear the siren calling him to war. And he hoped to see Paula again.

  “All you say is true, Paulo. I hope you have a point to make, because I would rather think of blue sky, white clouds, and sunshine on the beach.”

  “Just so, just so. Your government and the governments of all your allies and enemies spend the same on systems that they hope never to use. I follow the news, Karl. Your leaders have promised this base new fighters – at a very high cost. What happens to the old? They will be scrapped, having served no useful purpose.

  “Would it not be better to not replace them, I wonder? Were the ETO to do that one thing and brag about the savings, how they would put that money to work elsewhere – for the people – would not other countries and alliances see this and think, ‘We can do the same?’”

  Karl thought on that. “Perhaps, Paulo, perhaps. But, as you say, it takes courage to lead, and I fear that our leaders do not have great reserves of courage.” He shrugged. “And I’ve thought about that since last we met. We cannot trust the others to not take advantage. Thus, no one else will cut spending. But you have the right of it. They fear and, alas, they have no courage.”

  The old man set down his empty beer glass. “No, no they do not. But you, have you courage?”

  And what did that mean? “I don’t know. I suspect that one only finds out during the test. And one who may have courage today, when a certain test comes, may find it lacking tomorrow for a different test altogether.”

  Gabriella came in the room. “Enough. Come to supper.”

  Karl rose to his feet, lent a hand, which Paulo grasped, and pulled the older man to his feet.

  “I think I might hire you,” Paulo said. “Much easier to get up that way.”

  Karl followed Gabriella into the dining room where he saw a table set with four places. Four? Steaming bowls and plates of food adorned the centre of the dark, stained-wood table. The aroma of spiced rice and meat wafted in the air.

  Paulo waved a hand at one of the chairs, and Karl went to stand behind it. Paulo took his place at the head of the table, and Gabriella went to the foot. So, to whom did the fourth place belong? He tried to not hope, for hopes had not manifested for him as of late.

  The kitchen door opened, and the lovely woman he hoped for entered.

  She smiled, wide and open. “I’m not late, am I?”

  “No,” her grandmother said, “not late. Please take your seat. You know Karl, I believe.”

  Her eyes met his and they seemed to him clear and deep. Knowing eyes that smiled. “Yes, we’ve met. Hello, Karl, good of you to come.”

  He took her proffered hand. “And good of the family to invite me, Paula.”

  Something in his voice must have betrayed the tension of the former discussion. She looked suspiciously at her grandfather. “I’ve no doubt that I know what you’ve been talking about. You shouldn’t pester your guests, Granddad. This soldier cannot make his government remove the base.”

  Karl sat with the rest of them. “But you err,” he said, defending the old man. “Your grandfather never mentioned that he wished to see the base removed.”

  She laughed, and it sounded fresh and joyous. “Oh, Karl – or should I address you as Herr Major, like I hear your men call you in town?”

  His fork stopped halfway to his mouth, then he moved again. She had seen him with others of his flight? The only times he had noticed her was outside the confectionery that first time and during Paulo’s party. None of his flight had been nearby on either occasion.

  “Karl will do – it’s what your grandfather calls me, and I do not object. If, however, you wish to be more formal, Herr Müller. And then I shall have to call you Frau…?”

  She laughed again. “No, no, just Paula. We don’t stand on formalities in this family. Nonetheless, whether you know it or not, you’ve been talking about just that. You already know that many islanders don’t want your base here.”

  Karl decided he would do just about anything to keep her talking to him.

  “Yes, I’ve heard that mentioned once or twice.” He hadn’t, but he’d seen enough dirty looks to suspect, even though he’d not even heard of any protests. “But not loudly, and most of the islanders I’ve seen don’t appear overly displeased with us.”

  H
er brown eyes looking into his own, she nodded. “The base brings a lot of money to the island. You and your fellow soldiers spend a lot here. But we resent your presence, especially as it makes the rest of us less safe – not to mention the unholy roar as your ships launch. It scares the younger children and the animals.”

  The older two remained quiet, while Paula pressed her point. Karl could see that Grandpa Paulo enjoyed the action, while Grandma Gabriella didn’t. But Paula’s argument interested him. Besides engaging him with a very winsome woman, he wondered at her insistence, as he hadn’t felt much resentment in the two years he’d been stationed here.

  “The launches only occur once a month, and usually only two or three fighters – it’s all over in an hour. And how do we make you less safe? And from whom?”

  She shook her head sadly. “You already know this. Your base paints a target on this island, and your enemies – whomever they might be – will shoot at that target if hostilities break out.”

  Which was, more or less, what Grandpa had intimated the last time they had spoken.

  “This hardly seems likely,” Müller lied. “We’ve had peace between the major powers for a long time.”

  She would have none of that.

  “And you haven’t watched the news lately? A year ago – even three months ago – we might believe that. But everyone can see something coming.” She shook her head. “But you do not wish to speak of this on your leave. Let me just tell you that Grandfather tries as best he can to shut down your base by converting its soldiers one at a time.”

  Karl had to laugh at that. “He wishes to convert me to what?”

  “To a non-soldier.”

  Shocked, his eyes snapped over to the old man, who now looked at his plate. He had thought he might talk Karl into resigning his commission? And had he previously talked to Weber? Had that engendered the hauptmann’s conversion … and the watcher that Dreschler had placed on Old Paulo?

  The sudden quiet sent each of them to the food, the eating of which gave them time to compose their thoughts. At least that’s how it worked for Karl.

  “An interesting proposition,” he finally said, grinning. “But I hardly think that you can make farmers and fishermen of us all.”

  And something he had said caused Paula to stiffen.

  The old man quickly broke in. “Not all, just some of the more important ones. If every pilot were to resign upon coming here, your government would find a new place to put its base.”

  It seemed that the old man had lost something along the way. All that would do, were even a handful to ‘defect’, would be to forbid fraternization with the islanders. The base would remain. It wouldn’t do, however, to destroy the old man’s dream.

  “Yes, that would present a problem. The higher-ups wouldn’t approve of that at all.”

  The old man smiled, and Karl could see Paula relax. Had she thought that he might try to destroy the old man’s fantasy world? Talk changed to the weather and what he had done the last time he had taken leave in Deutschland.

  At the end of the meal, after a long, far-ranging discussion, he stood and carried his plate to the kitchen, waving off all protests. “You cooked; I’ll wash,” he told the old woman, and he knew he’d done the right thing when Paula joined him in the task, relieving her grandmother of the duty.

  “You are kind,” she said.

  “I’ve washed dishes before.”

  Her lips pressed together, perhaps trying to stop the laughter from bubbling out. That, he had enjoyed most fully – the sound of laughter at the table. In the mess, no one much even smiled any longer. You ate, and then you left.

  “He dreams, and he doesn’t understand.”

  “We all need our dreams.” He handed a washed plate to her to rinse.

  She stood silently for a while, and he wondered what he had said this time.

  “Paula, why don’t you show him the roof?” Paulo’s voice came from the table, where he still sat, relaxing.

  Paula put the last of the silverware onto the tray to dry, and she took a deep breath. Then she let it out with a rush. “Why not?” she said in a voice so low that he had difficulty making out the words.

  Karl wondered if he might have to fix the roof as payment for the meal.

  “Come with me.”

  Following her shapely form, and climbing the stairs behind her, gave him pleasure; maybe he wouldn’t mind fixing the roof. But the roof looked in good repair. What he saw was a veritable garden in boxes that traveled almost the entire width of the roof.

  Above the garden, a cistern held water, caught water from the rains, no doubt, and a system of pipes would distribute it to the plants in their boxes.

  “That’s pretty ingenious,” Karl said, his eyes tracing the pathways. Then he saw a pipe that would allow them to pump water up to the cistern. “Very nice.”

  “Marco did all the work.”

  “Marco?”

  “My husband.”

  “Ah.” And that would seem to end any dreams he might have had in that direction. But why had her husband not accompanied her to the meal; why had he not attended the old man’s birthday party?

  Paula stood near the railing that surrounded the flat roof and looked far out to sea. “Marco loved plants, loved growing things.”

  Past tense?

  “And he loved to fish.” She turned her eyes away from the horizon, and looked at him. “Just over two years ago he took his boat out. He laughed when I suggested I might go with him, or that he might take another to help.” Her eyes unfocused, and Karl felt a tightness inside. He knew the gist of what she would say next. “I’ll always remember that laugh. He had a love of life, and showed it in everything he said or did.”

  Karl didn’t know quite what to do. So he merely stood quietly. “I’m sorry.”

  “I also.” Her eyes refocused. “But it is not your fault, nor the fault of the base nor of any who live or work there. The ocean … no one can predict what the ocean might do.” She took a deep breath. When she finally let it out, she looked up at him, plainly, matter-of-factly. “Come. I’ll escort you back to town where you can find your way back to your base.”

  She led him down the stairs.

  “Gabriella, thank you for the wonderful meal,” he took her hand and bowed over it. “Paulo, I enjoyed the day immensely. And, perhaps one day, I will resign my commission.”

  The old man grinned and shook his hand.

  “I will see him home,” Paula told the old folks.

  Walking down the hill, Karl could think of nothing to say. And then he found that he didn’t have to. She began speaking.

  “We were planning to have our first child, but I have nothing of him now. And I have found no one else like my Marco.”

  She walked over to the edge of the road, where the land fell away towards the sea. He came to a stop beside her.

  “Sometimes it gets lonely, Karl.” Her eyes met his, and he recognized the offer. And he recognized his own longing.

  “Yes, sometimes it does get lonely,” he agreed.

  She reached out and took his hand.

  “When do you have to be back?”

  “Eight o’clock tomorrow morning at latest.”

  She pulled his hand up and placed it upon her breast, her eyes never leaving his. He tilted his head to the side and regarded her. Desire warred with propriety. Finally, he removed his hand. He saw her wince, just slightly.

  “I think that you agree with your grandfather about soldiers. So, do you really want to invite a ‘destroyer’ into your bed? Because I must warn you, that I will likely serve in this uniform for years to come.”

  She nodded at some internal decision.

  “You have honour, Karl. You could be a very good man, I think.”

  “If I took off the uniform.”

  “Which you will not do.”

  He sighed, and agreed. “Which I will not do.” He paused. “At least, not yet. These are stressful times; my crew needs me.”

/>   The wind blew her hair about, and she shook her head, getting it out of her eyes. “There you err, Karl. You are a soldier; you should know these things. You are a cog in the machine. If you break, they will put another cog in your place so the machine will go on. Tell me, what would happen if you lost your balance and fell over the railing here, breaking your back? What would happen, then, to your crew?”

  He looked down the drop, wincing at the thought of falling. “Either they would promote Hauptmann Schmidt to take my place, or they would bring another pilot in from Deutschland to take command.”

  “Yes. And all would go on as before. Are they your friends, Karl, or merely the people you work with?”

  “A bit of both, I think.”

  She nodded again. “Then, for your friends, you must return. For workmates who would go on without you, you need not.” She tugged on his hand. “Come, let us go down.”

  He walked by her side, neither of them saying anything for a time.

  “Karl, I fear for the future,” she said abruptly. “And I fear that you may not remain in that uniform for the years you suggest.”

  Her fears echoed his own, but he said nothing – he dared not.

  “Karl,” she said, voice now low and husky. “I do want you in my bed – tonight.”

  He felt his stomach jump.

  “But only tonight,” she said. “You did get it right: I would not want a destroyer in my bed on an ongoing basis. Yet, tonight I have need, and tonight my weakness gets the better of me.” Her gaze did not waver.

  “And the fact that I belong to the destroyers, and not to the builders, fishers, or farmers?”

  She smiled a smile that made his blood quicken. “For tonight, I will pretend that you will change.” She chuckled. “Tonight, I will believe that being with me will change you, that you will change for me.”

  He looked at the very alluring woman in front of him, and felt something pull him.

  “I almost believe it myself.”

  She took his hand once more. “Come with me into the dream, then, even though we are both adults, and know that the morning will return reality.”

  The small cottage showed signs of a skilled hand about the place. The shutters, the door, everything fit tightly, and stood in good repair, though that hand had departed a pair of years earlier. Solar panels and a small wind generator boasted the new, while the garden showed the old.