"Old soldiers never die, they just fade away."
-Douglas MacArthur
* * *
Amitam Cole was five, old enough to know that the man standing next to him was his father, and that his fatherıs name was Celiose. Father was wearing a bright uniform of immaculate white and regal gold trim, with all kinds of shiny medals pinned to his chest, with a long sheath at his side. Celiose didnıt seem to notice Amitam much when they entered the big mansion, but Mother (whose name was Shana), held Amitamıs hand tightly, worried that her son might fly off into some corner.
Grandma and Grandpa, whose names were Celes and Locke, were with them too. Grandpa smiled a lot more than father ever seemed to, but he seemed a little out of place in a suit and tie. Father didnıt seem to get along very well with Grandpa.Grandmaıs hair was beginning to turn grey and white, but she always played with Amitam. Amitam loved Grandma and Grandpa. ³Why are we here?² asked Amitam.
Celiose answered. ³We are here,² said Celiose, not turning his head or looking at his son, ³to pay tribute to Rimmel Coward, Commander, Seventh Army. He captured Baron to end the Great War, he was twice made a Hero of the Grand Army.²
³Were you ever made a Hero of the Grand Army?² asked Amitam.
³Four times,² answered the Generalissimo.
³I didnıt realize a Sub-General salary allowed such expensive tastes,² said Celes, turning to look at the rich upholstery. This was an old mansion, from before the Fall, in Esper. Every detail of woodwork was hand-crafted, a work of art in an era before mass production and machines. This was a small room, a sort of greeting chamber with a large coat closet. The main room was around the corner.
³It doesnıt,² said Celiose. ³Kittyıs some kind of heiress.²
³I happen to like Kitty, Celiose, so youıd better behave yourself,² said Shana in a pre-emptive chastisement. On cue, Kitty Coward appeared, wearing a golden sequined dress and a pearl necklace and diamond earings and an emerald on one hand with a sapphire on the other. Her hair was a massive blonde cable drawn around her left side.
Celiose would never, in his whole life, be able to afford things like that for Shana.
Rimmel was with her, going a little bit bald but still in excellent physical shape. He walked bolted upright, as if he were physically incapable of relaxing. But Rimmel and Kitty still affected the air of being nauseatingly in love.
³Generalissimo,² said Rimmel, saluting immediately. Rimmel was wearing his uniform, complete with GA Tank Troops beret.
³Youıre not on duty,² said Celiose. ³I should salute you. This is your night.²
³Thanks,² said Rimmel, and there was a split-second pause as everyone expected Celiose to actually salute. He didnıt.
³Most everyoneıs here,² said Kitty, smiling. ³Come.² And she turned, and the Cowards led the Coles to the main chamber.
Celiose had been to many of the castles and courts of the Web. He wondered if, now, he was in one of those, rather than the housing of his subordinates. A grand piano, glimmering crystal chandeliers, haughty wide staircases, and an air of regality dominated. Regality, and uniforms, for in the large main hall were assembled more GA Sub-Generals, Colonels, and other officers than had been in one place in a long time.
Celiose scanned the crowd, marking off Torstensson, in a wheelchair in a corner and dour as always, Model, a little bit paunchy and drinking too much these days, Praxer, still creepy, and Gage, insisting to anyone who would listen that air forces were still useful.
And the entrance of the Generalissimo, each and every one of them stopped whatever they were doing, turned, and saluted. It was like the painting hung in GAHQ, that showed soldiers throughout history, from Taznikanze berserkers to Eblanese Samurai to Doman Knights all turning to salute the white-and-gold figure of Celiose Cole.
Amitam cried.
Celiose returned the salute, then cast his son a withering glance. How inconvenient this son was. The party resumed, of course, no somehow consecrated by the presence of the Generalissimo.
³Iıll take care of it,² said Shana.
Celes shook her head. ³Nonsense,² she said. ³You have to take care of him all the time. You deserve a break.²
³Thereıs a room upstairs with some other kids,² Kitty said, helpfully.
Amitam ceased crying. ³Will the other kids salute me?² he asked. Celes picked him up, and smiled at him.
³Youıre not Generalissimo,² she said.
³I want to be Generalissimo,² the youngest Cole said.
³Well, if you study a lot, and work very hard, maybe³
³No,² said Celiose, firmly, turning. For the first time this evening, he looked Amitam dead in the eye. ³Absolutely not. Being Generalissimo is a terrible thing; I did it so no one else would have to do it.²
Amitam nodded slowly, doing his best to understand. Father rarely took such a serious tonerarely talked with him at all--, and he knew it was very important to understand him when he did.
³Iıll take him upstairs,² said Celes. Smiling, she guided little Amitam up the grandiose staircase.
³Well,² said Locke, ³maybe if he wonıt be a soldier, heıll be a treasure hunter, like me!²
And Celioseıs gaze of blood and iron was fixed upon his father now. Locke Cole, treasure hunter extraordinaire. Father of a bastard brother of Celiose named Christian. Never around when Celiose was young, always in trouble. Mother was always crying when he was gone. And all he had to show for it was a breezy, carefree air about a world that was decisively not breezy or carefree. ³I hope to goddess Rainereaunt Terrathat my son is nothing like you .²
Embarrassed, Locke slinked away, ashamed. The Cowards tried to look the other way, appear uninvolved, but Shana said, ³Donıt be so hard on your father.²
³This is a celebration of honor,² said Celiose, ³it is tainted by his presence.²
An awkward pause followed his departure, broken only by the tactless Kitty.³Iıve been meaning to show Shana around,² said Kitty.
Shana smiled, graciously, eager to get away from Celiose. ³Sorry, guys, girl talk,² she said, leaving Celiose and Rimmel alone.
Celiose took another moment to take it in. The heads were a little greyer, and the mood a little less exultant, but the fine wine, the celebratory atmosphere, and so many uniforms brought to mind another time for him. ³You know what this remind me of?² he asked.
Rimmel smiled. ³Albrook, 27,² he said. ³The Great War victory celebration.² Rimmel turned, and pulled a large black-and-white photo off his shelf. He showed it to Celiose.
³I have the same picture in my house,² said Celiose, looking at it. The caption: ³V-Day, Albrook, March 3, 27 WR. Left to right: Lingane, Riose, Lenart (seated), Cole, Rizett, Coward, Steinmetz.²
³Good times,² said Rimmel. ³The Dark Gods had just been beaten, and with them out of the way, it was just peace and prosperity ahead.²
³Hard to believe,² said Celiose.
³What?² asked Rimmel. ³That is was fifteen years ago?²
³No,² said Celiose, ³that after having done so much, we were still so young and foolish.² He looked at the picture, tracing his hand over the old generals. All looker younger, more fit, energized; the very image of conquering heroes. He looked at the party he was at now, in 42 WR, and saw graying, balding, wrinkled people; the very image of stodgy old men.
³Whereıs Lingane?² asked Celiose. ³Howe should be here.² Celiose was referring to the Chief of Naval Operations. In the Grand Army, perhaps alone among the major military forces, Naval was still, by default, a term which referred to the sea; there was no need to qualify it as a sea navyı, oceanic navyı, or wet navyı.
Victor Velasco, GA Chief of Space Operations, was too busy to attend tonight. He, his native Guardia, and his entire branch had missed out on the Great War, coming a few years and a technological generation too late.
³I dunno,² said Rimmel. He looked over at Gage Rizett, the Chief of Air Operations. ³It seemed to me those two were always together.² Rimmel licked his lips. ³Anyway, I have hostly duties to attend to,² he said, ³and I know you of all people wouldnıt approve of me shirking duty.² He tried to smile.
³Do you miss it?² asked Celiose.
³What?² asked Rimmel. Celiose tapped the photo from fifteen years ago. The Sub-General grinned, slightly. ³Good old Seventh Army, Hell on Wheelsı,² he said, and closed his eyes as if remembering his first kiss. Then, he opened them. Rimmel sighed. ³Iım happy now, if thatıs what you mean,² he said. ³I have a beautiful women I love, I published a big report on warfare in the Web, and Iım going to retire. This businessit grates on a person. It wears him down.² Then Rimmel returned the photo, and then said, a little quieter, ³maybe, not you, though. Youıre different, Celiose.² And then Commander of the Seventh Army and liberator of Baron hurried to make sure his guests had enough wine.
Celiose looked after him. ³Different?² he said, to himself.
Grandma and Grandpa, whose names were Celes and Locke, were with them too. Grandpa smiled a lot more than father ever seemed to, but he seemed a little out of place in a suit and tie. Father didnıt seem to get along very well with Grandpa.Grandmaıs hair was beginning to turn grey and white, but she always played with Amitam. Amitam loved Grandma and Grandpa. ³Why are we here?² asked Amitam.
Celiose answered. ³We are here,² said Celiose, not turning his head or looking at his son, ³to pay tribute to Rimmel Coward, Commander, Seventh Army. He captured Baron to end the Great War, he was twice made a Hero of the Grand Army.²
³Were you ever made a Hero of the Grand Army?² asked Amitam.
³Four times,² answered the Generalissimo.
³I didnıt realize a Sub-General salary allowed such expensive tastes,² said Celes, turning to look at the rich upholstery. This was an old mansion, from before the Fall, in Esper. Every detail of woodwork was hand-crafted, a work of art in an era before mass production and machines. This was a small room, a sort of greeting chamber with a large coat closet. The main room was around the corner.
³It doesnıt,² said Celiose. ³Kittyıs some kind of heiress.²
³I happen to like Kitty, Celiose, so youıd better behave yourself,² said Shana in a pre-emptive chastisement. On cue, Kitty Coward appeared, wearing a golden sequined dress and a pearl necklace and diamond earings and an emerald on one hand with a sapphire on the other. Her hair was a massive blonde cable drawn around her left side.
Celiose would never, in his whole life, be able to afford things like that for Shana.
Rimmel was with her, going a little bit bald but still in excellent physical shape. He walked bolted upright, as if he were physically incapable of relaxing. But Rimmel and Kitty still affected the air of being nauseatingly in love.
³Generalissimo,² said Rimmel, saluting immediately. Rimmel was wearing his uniform, complete with GA Tank Troops beret.
³Youıre not on duty,² said Celiose. ³I should salute you. This is your night.²
³Thanks,² said Rimmel, and there was a split-second pause as everyone expected Celiose to actually salute. He didnıt.
³Most everyoneıs here,² said Kitty, smiling. ³Come.² And she turned, and the Cowards led the Coles to the main chamber.
Celiose had been to many of the castles and courts of the Web. He wondered if, now, he was in one of those, rather than the housing of his subordinates. A grand piano, glimmering crystal chandeliers, haughty wide staircases, and an air of regality dominated. Regality, and uniforms, for in the large main hall were assembled more GA Sub-Generals, Colonels, and other officers than had been in one place in a long time.
Celiose scanned the crowd, marking off Torstensson, in a wheelchair in a corner and dour as always, Model, a little bit paunchy and drinking too much these days, Praxer, still creepy, and Gage, insisting to anyone who would listen that air forces were still useful.
And the entrance of the Generalissimo, each and every one of them stopped whatever they were doing, turned, and saluted. It was like the painting hung in GAHQ, that showed soldiers throughout history, from Taznikanze berserkers to Eblanese Samurai to Doman Knights all turning to salute the white-and-gold figure of Celiose Cole.
Amitam cried.
Celiose returned the salute, then cast his son a withering glance. How inconvenient this son was. The party resumed, of course, no somehow consecrated by the presence of the Generalissimo.
³Iıll take care of it,² said Shana.
Celes shook her head. ³Nonsense,² she said. ³You have to take care of him all the time. You deserve a break.²
³Thereıs a room upstairs with some other kids,² Kitty said, helpfully.
Amitam ceased crying. ³Will the other kids salute me?² he asked. Celes picked him up, and smiled at him.
³Youıre not Generalissimo,² she said.
³I want to be Generalissimo,² the youngest Cole said.
³Well, if you study a lot, and work very hard, maybe³
³No,² said Celiose, firmly, turning. For the first time this evening, he looked Amitam dead in the eye. ³Absolutely not. Being Generalissimo is a terrible thing; I did it so no one else would have to do it.²
Amitam nodded slowly, doing his best to understand. Father rarely took such a serious tonerarely talked with him at all--, and he knew it was very important to understand him when he did.
³Iıll take him upstairs,² said Celes. Smiling, she guided little Amitam up the grandiose staircase.
³Well,² said Locke, ³maybe if he wonıt be a soldier, heıll be a treasure hunter, like me!²
And Celioseıs gaze of blood and iron was fixed upon his father now. Locke Cole, treasure hunter extraordinaire. Father of a bastard brother of Celiose named Christian. Never around when Celiose was young, always in trouble. Mother was always crying when he was gone. And all he had to show for it was a breezy, carefree air about a world that was decisively not breezy or carefree. ³I hope to goddess Rainereaunt Terrathat my son is nothing like you .²
Embarrassed, Locke slinked away, ashamed. The Cowards tried to look the other way, appear uninvolved, but Shana said, ³Donıt be so hard on your father.²
³This is a celebration of honor,² said Celiose, ³it is tainted by his presence.²
An awkward pause followed his departure, broken only by the tactless Kitty.³Iıve been meaning to show Shana around,² said Kitty.
Shana smiled, graciously, eager to get away from Celiose. ³Sorry, guys, girl talk,² she said, leaving Celiose and Rimmel alone.
Celiose took another moment to take it in. The heads were a little greyer, and the mood a little less exultant, but the fine wine, the celebratory atmosphere, and so many uniforms brought to mind another time for him. ³You know what this remind me of?² he asked.
Rimmel smiled. ³Albrook, 27,² he said. ³The Great War victory celebration.² Rimmel turned, and pulled a large black-and-white photo off his shelf. He showed it to Celiose.
³I have the same picture in my house,² said Celiose, looking at it. The caption: ³V-Day, Albrook, March 3, 27 WR. Left to right: Lingane, Riose, Lenart (seated), Cole, Rizett, Coward, Steinmetz.²
³Good times,² said Rimmel. ³The Dark Gods had just been beaten, and with them out of the way, it was just peace and prosperity ahead.²
³Hard to believe,² said Celiose.
³What?² asked Rimmel. ³That is was fifteen years ago?²
³No,² said Celiose, ³that after having done so much, we were still so young and foolish.² He looked at the picture, tracing his hand over the old generals. All looker younger, more fit, energized; the very image of conquering heroes. He looked at the party he was at now, in 42 WR, and saw graying, balding, wrinkled people; the very image of stodgy old men.
³Whereıs Lingane?² asked Celiose. ³Howe should be here.² Celiose was referring to the Chief of Naval Operations. In the Grand Army, perhaps alone among the major military forces, Naval was still, by default, a term which referred to the sea; there was no need to qualify it as a sea navyı, oceanic navyı, or wet navyı.
Victor Velasco, GA Chief of Space Operations, was too busy to attend tonight. He, his native Guardia, and his entire branch had missed out on the Great War, coming a few years and a technological generation too late.
³I dunno,² said Rimmel. He looked over at Gage Rizett, the Chief of Air Operations. ³It seemed to me those two were always together.² Rimmel licked his lips. ³Anyway, I have hostly duties to attend to,² he said, ³and I know you of all people wouldnıt approve of me shirking duty.² He tried to smile.
³Do you miss it?² asked Celiose.
³What?² asked Rimmel. Celiose tapped the photo from fifteen years ago. The Sub-General grinned, slightly. ³Good old Seventh Army, Hell on Wheelsı,² he said, and closed his eyes as if remembering his first kiss. Then, he opened them. Rimmel sighed. ³Iım happy now, if thatıs what you mean,² he said. ³I have a beautiful women I love, I published a big report on warfare in the Web, and Iım going to retire. This businessit grates on a person. It wears him down.² Then Rimmel returned the photo, and then said, a little quieter, ³maybe, not you, though. Youıre different, Celiose.² And then Commander of the Seventh Army and liberator of Baron hurried to make sure his guests had enough wine.
Celiose looked after him. ³Different?² he said, to himself.
* * *
Praxer, as he had a way of doing, had managed to sneak up on Celiose.
³Youıre wondering, arenıt you,² said Praxer.
³Wondering about what?² asked Celiose. The two men were on a sort of indoor balcony, high above the crowd. The Generalissimo and the Director looked down on the assembled officers of the Grand Army.
³Youıre wondering if we still have whatever it was that won us the Great War,² said Praxer.
³Rimmelıs retiring, Modelıs an alcoholic, Lingane is AWOLnever thought Iıd see the day,² said Celiose.
³Sure, they were something to behold back in the day,² said Praxer. ³Quite a sight to see Torstensson break the Dark Wrathıs back at Trianable, to see Rimmel close the pocket at Kursc, and to see Model hold the line at Zenan Bridge.²
³ Were something,² said Celiose, softly.
³Cımon, now,² said Praxer, ³they arenıt what they used to be. Would you take Rimmel against Halberg? Model against Skalice?² there was a pause between the two men. Celiose did not look at the tall Celpo Director. ³If they had to win the Great War today, could they do it again?²
³I donıt know,² said Celiose, ³but then, no one thought we could do it the first time.²
³Point taken,² said Praxer, ³but look at them. You read Rimmelıs report, right?²
³Of course,² said Celiose.
³He has his head stuck in a time of tanks,² said Praxer. ³Of course every military that moved to mecha studied their efficacy. Rimmelıs study was the only ony critical of mecha.²
³Maybe he just saw what others did not,² said Celiose.
³Maybe,² said Praxer, ³or maybe heıs just an old man, too calcified to change on the eve of his retirement. The Grand Army has access to technology at least as good as the best nationıs, but our equipment is essentially unchanged from ten years ago. Old dogs, refusing to learn new tricks.²
³Neither of us are as young as we used to be either, Praxer,² said Celiose.
³Weıre different, you and I,² said Praxer. ³Me, Iım in the espionage business. Espionage is the worldıs second-oldest profession.²
³And me?² asked Celiose.
³Well,² said Praxer, taking the time to phrase it right, ³Rimmel and the rest were simply new commanders. Youyouıre a new kind of human.²
³Think so?² asked Celiose.
³Youıre not afraid,² said Praxer. ³Those millions of years of evolution are just not in you.² The Celpo Director smiled. ³I find that quite fascinating.²
Celiose took a sip of wine; it was rare for him to drink, and even so he didnıt want to be intoxicated.
Praxer continued. ³I hear you are thinking of retiring,² he said. ³And you offered Rimmel the post of Generalissimo, and that he turned it down.²
³You hear a lot of things, Praxer,² said Celiose.
³You know,² said Praxer, ³ I could be Generalissimo.²
Another awkward pause before Celiose said, ³No. No. That will never happen.²
Downstairs, though, trouble was brewing. Model Steinmetz, famous for his amazing defensive stands that had earned his Sixth Army the nickname Suicide Kingsı, particularly well-known in Guardia (a square was named after him in New Dorino), had had a little too much to drink. He was shouting.
³ Fuck the space fleet, ² he yelled. ³ and fuck mecha. All a bunch of overpriced crap. All wars are infantry wars, and always have been.²
³See?ı said Praxer. ³Not what they used to be. Not what they used to be at all.²
³ Overpriced shiny pieces of shit ,² Model was continuing. ³Maybe in this peaceful era nations can afford to waste their money like that. But those worthless toys wouldıve gotten them killed in the Great War! Give me strong, tough, good infantrymen anyday!!!!²
³Heıs making quite a scene,² said Praxer. ³Want me to handle this?²
³Ok,² agreed Celiose.
Praxer grinned, spread his arms wide, and shouted. ³ HEY, EVERYONE! WHO WANTS TO SEE THE GENERALISSIMO SING KAROAKE? ²
³Youıre wondering, arenıt you,² said Praxer.
³Wondering about what?² asked Celiose. The two men were on a sort of indoor balcony, high above the crowd. The Generalissimo and the Director looked down on the assembled officers of the Grand Army.
³Youıre wondering if we still have whatever it was that won us the Great War,² said Praxer.
³Rimmelıs retiring, Modelıs an alcoholic, Lingane is AWOLnever thought Iıd see the day,² said Celiose.
³Sure, they were something to behold back in the day,² said Praxer. ³Quite a sight to see Torstensson break the Dark Wrathıs back at Trianable, to see Rimmel close the pocket at Kursc, and to see Model hold the line at Zenan Bridge.²
³ Were something,² said Celiose, softly.
³Cımon, now,² said Praxer, ³they arenıt what they used to be. Would you take Rimmel against Halberg? Model against Skalice?² there was a pause between the two men. Celiose did not look at the tall Celpo Director. ³If they had to win the Great War today, could they do it again?²
³I donıt know,² said Celiose, ³but then, no one thought we could do it the first time.²
³Point taken,² said Praxer, ³but look at them. You read Rimmelıs report, right?²
³Of course,² said Celiose.
³He has his head stuck in a time of tanks,² said Praxer. ³Of course every military that moved to mecha studied their efficacy. Rimmelıs study was the only ony critical of mecha.²
³Maybe he just saw what others did not,² said Celiose.
³Maybe,² said Praxer, ³or maybe heıs just an old man, too calcified to change on the eve of his retirement. The Grand Army has access to technology at least as good as the best nationıs, but our equipment is essentially unchanged from ten years ago. Old dogs, refusing to learn new tricks.²
³Neither of us are as young as we used to be either, Praxer,² said Celiose.
³Weıre different, you and I,² said Praxer. ³Me, Iım in the espionage business. Espionage is the worldıs second-oldest profession.²
³And me?² asked Celiose.
³Well,² said Praxer, taking the time to phrase it right, ³Rimmel and the rest were simply new commanders. Youyouıre a new kind of human.²
³Think so?² asked Celiose.
³Youıre not afraid,² said Praxer. ³Those millions of years of evolution are just not in you.² The Celpo Director smiled. ³I find that quite fascinating.²
Celiose took a sip of wine; it was rare for him to drink, and even so he didnıt want to be intoxicated.
Praxer continued. ³I hear you are thinking of retiring,² he said. ³And you offered Rimmel the post of Generalissimo, and that he turned it down.²
³You hear a lot of things, Praxer,² said Celiose.
³You know,² said Praxer, ³ I could be Generalissimo.²
Another awkward pause before Celiose said, ³No. No. That will never happen.²
Downstairs, though, trouble was brewing. Model Steinmetz, famous for his amazing defensive stands that had earned his Sixth Army the nickname Suicide Kingsı, particularly well-known in Guardia (a square was named after him in New Dorino), had had a little too much to drink. He was shouting.
³ Fuck the space fleet, ² he yelled. ³ and fuck mecha. All a bunch of overpriced crap. All wars are infantry wars, and always have been.²
³See?ı said Praxer. ³Not what they used to be. Not what they used to be at all.²
³ Overpriced shiny pieces of shit ,² Model was continuing. ³Maybe in this peaceful era nations can afford to waste their money like that. But those worthless toys wouldıve gotten them killed in the Great War! Give me strong, tough, good infantrymen anyday!!!!²
³Heıs making quite a scene,² said Praxer. ³Want me to handle this?²
³Ok,² agreed Celiose.
Praxer grinned, spread his arms wide, and shouted. ³ HEY, EVERYONE! WHO WANTS TO SEE THE GENERALISSIMO SING KAROAKE? ²
* * *
³I canıt believe youıre doing this,² said Shana.
Celiose shrugged. The karaoke room was packed to capacity; the machine awaited ominously. ³Itıs good the press is not here,² said Celiose. ³Worse than spies.²
³Youıre sure you want to do this?²
Celiose made a quick glance around the room. ³You know,² started Celiose, ³in the Great War, I was in charge, sure, but war is not like a game of chess. In chess, you tell your pawn to move forward, and it always does. Thereıs no weather or hidden enemies or supply breakdowns to stop him. Every once in a while, I would have to issue an order or sign off on a mission I didnıt actually think could be accomplished, but I knew we had to try, or all was last. But every single time, these men came through for me. And if they want me to make a singing idiot of myself, Iıll damn well do it. Besides,² said Celiose, trying to smile, ³Mother sang the opera.²
³Of course she did,² said Shana. Whenever Celiose said anything nice about his parents, it was only about his mother.
Generalissimo Celiose Daneel Cole, Commander-in-Chief of the Grand Army, victor of innumerable battles, the architect and leader of the most powerful military in history, girded himself for what was perhaps his greatest challenge: Karoake.
(With apologies to the Who)
People try to put us d-down (Talkin` `bout my generation)
Just because we get around (Talkin` `bout my generation)
Things they do look awful c-c-cold (Talkin` `bout my generation)
I hope I die before I get old (Talkin` `bout my generation)
By now, his initial relucance overcome, Celiose began to attempt to dance. This amounted to random and off-beat gyrations, and the occasional nonsensical flourish or spin. Celiose was much better at winning wars than he was at dancing.
This is my generation
This is my generation, baby
Why don`t you all f-fade away (Talkin` `bout my generation)
And don`t try to dig what we all s-s-say (Talkin` `bout my generation)
I`m not trying to cause a big s-s-sensation (Talkin` `bout my generation)
I`m just talkin` `bout my g-g-g-generation (Talkin` `bout my generation)
This is my generation
This is my generation, baby
To say Celiose was off-key would be to imply he had any consistent key. All he really managed was the impressive volume.
Why don`t you all f-fade away (Talkin` `bout my generation)
And don`t try to d-dig what we all s-s-say (Talkin` `bout my generation)
I`m not trying to cause a b-big s-s-sensation (Talkin` `bout my generation)
I`m just talkin` `bout my g-g-generation (Talkin` `bout my generation)
This is my generation
This is my generation, baby
An applause greater than that of any of the Generalissimosı speeches thundered forth, and a mode of cheerful ebullience exuded from the room. There was, for a few moments, a chance to make merry and forget about the problems of the world.
* * *
It was Rimmel who ended it; he burst into the room, and shouted, ³Howe is dead!²
³Lingane?² said Celiose.
Rimmel nodded.
³What happened?²
³He wanted to go sailing,² said Rimmel. ³He took out his sailing ship out of the marina in Albrook this morning. That crazy old salt.² Howe Lingane had developed submarine strategy and carrier tactics. Now, in his fight to keep the Kriegsnavee, he had been derided as a dinosaur second only to Bomberı Gage.
³He went out deep,² continued Rimmel, ³really deep. He got caught in a violent storm. Maybemaybe a younger man could have done it, pulled it through, but Lingane, heheıs gone.²
This was how it ended for Howe Lingange, GA Chief of Naval Operations. Not cut down by the Dark Wrath, not going down on a ship in a heroic stand, not even dying in bed full of years; an unceremonious death in a small pleasure cruise at sea. For all the valuable service he had rendered in the Great Warsevering Dark Wrath supply lines, sinking the WaveWrath Domination --Celiose wondered if people today even knew who he was.
He wondered what the deaths of everyone else would be like. Torstensson was long overdue for the eternal slumber. Model couldnıt keep drinking like that without an accident happening. Rimmel still liked to big game hunt from time to time, and every once in a while some behemoth or tyrannosaur got the better of a hunter. Gage still liked to fly, especially in the (rickety and unreliable) old propeller-driven, old Red Wing airships.
As the somber mood descended, maybe Rimmel was glad he got out of the GA while he could, to enjoy some of real life while he had It left in him. Maybe Gage and Model were thinking that now might be a good time to do that, too.
But Praxerit was impossible to imagine any kind of death for him. And for himself, Celiose, he had a hard time imagining that kind of end. Maybe Praxer was right. Maybe the two of them were different.
But in spite of that, the Great War would not have been won without fiery Rimmel and icy Model, Bomber Gage and Submariner Howe, and especially not without harsh, crippled Torstensson. Celiose wondered if the Web would ever really appreciate that.
Someoneit was Rimmelhad just proposed a toast to the departed Lingane. ³I think it was the custom, in Figaro,² he said, the man from the Ice Country not entirely sure. ³To have a toast. He wouldnıt want us to be sad or depressed, after all. Iıll let the Generalissimo do the honors.²
Celiose raised his glass of wine, and said, softly, ³To the old breed.²
³Lingane?² said Celiose.
Rimmel nodded.
³What happened?²
³He wanted to go sailing,² said Rimmel. ³He took out his sailing ship out of the marina in Albrook this morning. That crazy old salt.² Howe Lingane had developed submarine strategy and carrier tactics. Now, in his fight to keep the Kriegsnavee, he had been derided as a dinosaur second only to Bomberı Gage.
³He went out deep,² continued Rimmel, ³really deep. He got caught in a violent storm. Maybemaybe a younger man could have done it, pulled it through, but Lingane, heheıs gone.²
This was how it ended for Howe Lingange, GA Chief of Naval Operations. Not cut down by the Dark Wrath, not going down on a ship in a heroic stand, not even dying in bed full of years; an unceremonious death in a small pleasure cruise at sea. For all the valuable service he had rendered in the Great Warsevering Dark Wrath supply lines, sinking the WaveWrath Domination --Celiose wondered if people today even knew who he was.
He wondered what the deaths of everyone else would be like. Torstensson was long overdue for the eternal slumber. Model couldnıt keep drinking like that without an accident happening. Rimmel still liked to big game hunt from time to time, and every once in a while some behemoth or tyrannosaur got the better of a hunter. Gage still liked to fly, especially in the (rickety and unreliable) old propeller-driven, old Red Wing airships.
As the somber mood descended, maybe Rimmel was glad he got out of the GA while he could, to enjoy some of real life while he had It left in him. Maybe Gage and Model were thinking that now might be a good time to do that, too.
But Praxerit was impossible to imagine any kind of death for him. And for himself, Celiose, he had a hard time imagining that kind of end. Maybe Praxer was right. Maybe the two of them were different.
But in spite of that, the Great War would not have been won without fiery Rimmel and icy Model, Bomber Gage and Submariner Howe, and especially not without harsh, crippled Torstensson. Celiose wondered if the Web would ever really appreciate that.
Someoneit was Rimmelhad just proposed a toast to the departed Lingane. ³I think it was the custom, in Figaro,² he said, the man from the Ice Country not entirely sure. ³To have a toast. He wouldnıt want us to be sad or depressed, after all. Iıll let the Generalissimo do the honors.²
Celiose raised his glass of wine, and said, softly, ³To the old breed.²