A/N: I'm going to try and step things up so that the final chapter ofThe Hollow Men will be posted on the same day to the year that it was originally posted.

As in the last chapter, foreign languages will be presented between #s. I reiterate: I couldn't make any other special characters work because of restrictions on them. Not even asterisks worked for some reason. This will go for Helmaj, Russian, Japanese, etc.

Of course, thanks go out to my beta team for their effort... I threw chapters 14 and 15 out in rapid succession, written in less than a week, and I still got some quality reviews. The main page of has announced that they'll roll out a beta reader area of the site, and I can only hope that reviewers of their caliber will be available to everyone. :-) Just a word of advice, the brief interlude at the end is completely un-betaed. I really wanted to roll this out and thus I didn't run it past the team. Sorry, guys. :-/

Other than that, nothing much is new...

On with the show!

"The Hollow Men" by T.S. Eliot, fifth canto, first five stanzas

"Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o'clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow

Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the-"

15: Between the Idea and the Reality
 The Helmaj base
3:37 PM

"So what do we do now?" Kenji asked the Soviet soldier as they lay prone on the roof of the Antonov, skin burning from the heat of the metal fuselage.

"We wait," the man gruffly responded, crawling a few steps forward, towards the tail of the plane. "We wait until Helmaj spread out."

"Helmaj, huh?" Mark turned to his partner, trying to keep his afro out of the enemy's view. "I shoulda thought the mudjehedeen wouldn't have jacked a cargo plane and flown to the Sinai for a social call."

"Sinai?" The Russian turned around. "You come from Sinai?"

Kenji ignored the question. "We're going to have to make a break for it soon. If you played things right, Mark, we've got twelve hours before MITHRIL is swarming all over this place."

"'Meat rail?'" the Russian quizzically asked, not understanding the foreign word. "What is meat rail?"

"Agreed, but something is going on here, Kenji. We're no closer to finding out where the hell this sucker came from, but we still haven't figured out what the hell got us here. We ain't even sure where 'here' is. From the looks of it, though, something tells us we're not in the deserts of Kansas anymore."

"Is meat rail part of CIA?" The Russian's interest was piqued. "Secret plan name?"

Kenji turned to the soldier. "Listen, you'd better forget we said anything. I don't know who you are, but we are not CIA, we are not Americans, and it seems like you're as out of place as we are."

The Russian stared back at Kenji. "My name is Andrei Sergeivich Kalinin, Second Lieutenant, 104th Spetsnaz. My unit was captured by these Helmaj. I try to send distress signal, but you take aircraft radio before I do; you now transmitting, yes?"

"Our people will hear the code signal."

"Radio-intercept stations are located at Konduz, several hours away. Soviet forces hear beacon too and come."

"Konduz?" Kenji thought for a moment. "We're in Afghanistan?"

"Far northeast of country under Helmaj control. Maybe parts of China and Pakistan too. Remote areas, not under Soviet or government control."

"Dammit!" Kenji tried to swear as quietly as he could without alerting anyone nearby. He lowered his voice before he could shout in anger. "So much for any help from MITHRIL."

"Soviet forces will be here soon," Kalinin narrowed his eyes. "Three hours' flying time in helicopter. I must return to my men. What will you do?"

Kenji crawled towards Mark. "Look, if we can, we should work with him," Mark reasoned. "There's more than this one, apparently, and – "

"Wait!" Kenji held up a hand. "Something's going on down there."

Kalinin had seen it too. First one, then another, then entire throngs of soldiers had appeared out of nowhere and rushed onto the sandy flats where the plane had landed. Shouts were thrown back and forth in numerous languages.

"'He is returning?'" Kalinin ventured after picking up a few words in Russian.

"#Is it true? Helmajin Helmaj is coming back after all these years?#"

"#The last time he came... the last time he came, he dispatched the previous one with a single blow. I remember it like it was yesterday.#"

"#It's just like we were told... it's been too long, but –#"

"#Stand to attention! Helmajin Helmaj has return to Helmajin Shartash, the ancestral home of the Helmaj!#" Kalinin recognized the voice and saw Majid jogging towards the tail of the aircraft, his men forming into sharp, military-style rank and file.

Unceremoniously and with the clunking sounds of a dying transmission coupled to a roaring diesel truck engine, the old Opel bounded across the sandy flats of the far northeastern Afghan turf.

"Looks like they got the call," Richard Sonoma remarked, throttling the engine to a stop slowly, letting the gearbox do most of the braking. He didn't want to lock the wheels on the sands of the flat.

"So these are the Helmaj," Kiriko noted approvingly. "They look just as ragtag as you told me they would."

"Kiriko, dear, there's no superior group of warriors in the world," Sonoma said approvingly, pulling the parking break as the Opel came to a halt in front of the ranks, just shy of the Antonov's tail. The men didn't break ranks, and if anyone blinked dust from their eyes, he couldn't tell.

"What about the Soviets? Won't they notice the Scimitar?"

"Not until we take the fight to them. Besides, we still have the Snowdrift."

With that, Sonoma opened the door of the truck, and with a quick spin to the right, he grabbed a handhold and scrambled his way up to the roof of the truck.

"#Helmajin Helmaj has returned!#" Majid announced in a barking, martial voice. "#All will heed his words until the clarion call of Khau'ron Helmaj is sounded!#"

Sonoma's expression didn't change as he surveyed the soldiers. Just shy of a few thousand, their ranks ebbing and flowing as new Helmaj came and old ones left, never to return, some showed fresh scars of battle against Soviet helicopters and the stolen RPGs of the mudjehedeen. They were a group pockmarked with ethnicities, nationalities, religions or irreligions, hair, skin, eyes, and it was hard to find two of the men – or women – who were from the same prefecture, state, or area.

"#Helmaj, you have waited years for my return without question,#" Sonoma began, speaking without the aid of a bullhorn or loudspeaker. "#You have fought the Soviets, the Chinese, the Pakistanis, the Afghans, the mudje, all without showing mercy or quarter. You have fought, died, and suffered in these hills and sands for years. You have swollen our ranks to numbers unseen since the Helmaj of ages beyond. You have brought new ideas, new tactics, new weapons, new power. You have lived your lives to the rallying cry we have heralded for thousands upon thousands of years:# Helmajin tarook!"

The assembled Helmaj responded, in unison, belting out in response: "Helmajin tarook!"

"#I have shown my face to you only twice since I claimed my place as Helmajin Helmaj,#" he continued, "#rightfully defeating the one who stood before me in single combat. I have proved my strength to lead you, thus claiming that I am the strongest Helmajin Helmaj to ever stand before the entirety of the Helmaj. If anyone believes they are the next Helmajin Helmaj, you may now step forward and prove your worth to unseat me and claim your destiny.#"

"Sounds like some kinda briefing," Mark mumbled. "Hey, Kenji, quit daydreamin'! Just because you don't understand this sucker's language either doesn't mean you oughta space out!"

"Sorry, but... I can't shake this. Something feels... something feels very wrong."

"#Nobody will come forth?#"

"I... I remember that voice."

"#Then with no protests, will you follow me into the fires of hell, into the ice of the mountain tops; will you march to your deaths in the name of the Helmaj?#"

"Helmajin tarook!"

"#Will you follow my orders knowing that you are not entitled to know my plans, solely living at the will of Helmajin Helmaj?#"

"Helmajin tarook!"

"#Will you fight and die, giving no quarter, giving no mercy, and taking no prisoners, to fulfill the clarion call of Khau'ron Helmaj?#"

"Helmajin tarook!"

"#Helmaj! Know that your deeds within the next twenty-four hours will bring about the rise of our people! Know that here will mark the beginning of a new era for our people! Know that now marks the beginning of our rise! Know that you will raise yourselves to prominence!#"

He raised his left arm, as if presenting the tarpaulin-covered cargo container on the back of his Opel. "#Here is what will lead the new era. Not just for the Helmaj, but for the entire world. Less than a hundred sets of human eyes have seen these new weapons, and both of the great powers hide them from each other. This is a weapon that was developed with knowledge far ahead of that from any human. I have seen it rise from the ground up, become a technology that literally stands on its own.#"

Richard looked behind him and nodded. Kiriko returned his nod, and she jogged around to the rear of the Opel, unlocking the deadbolt lock on the cargo container. With creaks of un-oiled metal joints, she pulled open the four jointed bolts on the container door and hopped into it.

"#Helmaj! This is the weapon that we will use to conquer and secure our lands! This is what they call an Arm Slave!#"

The cargo container, and then the entire Opel, started to vibrate as a loud, whirring drone spun up. After not even ten seconds, the cargo container burst open from the top, its rugged metal lining breaking like tinfoil. A huge mechanical hand lifted Sonoma up a few feet, then continued lifting him forward as the machine came to a full stand. The hawk-like head of the unit had two brightly-lit blue optical sensors, drawing a futuristic look to the top of its egg-shaped torso.

"What in the devil... it's the same as in the photograph from back at the base!" Kalinin reached into his coveralls, pulling out the crumpled old photo. It had retained its appearance from folding and unfolding, and when the machine stood, lifting the man in its open metal palm, Kalinin got a full-on profile of the man. "That's him... and that's the machine in the photograph, too!"

"Hell..." Mark let out a low whistle, trying not to move. They were just a glance over the man's shoulder, dead meat for sure, if anyone made a move. "Looks like that's what we're up against, huh, Kenji?"

Mark turned to his partner, but the calm, evaluative eyes of Kenji Moriyama had turned narrow, shooting flames at the man being held up by the mecha.

"That man..." Kenji seethed, his knuckles white, hangs clasping tightly down on the leading edge of the wing. "That man is the one who killed my parents. That man is NAPA VALLEY."

"Kenji, keep it down, man!"

"No."

"I hate this," he said. "I hate doing this. But this is how we make progress... this is how things are done for the greater good."

I've waited to tell him this for years... nine years now. For nine years, the only reason I trained myself to fight...joined the SDF... then MITHRIL... was to kill that man...

"He may have been MITHRIL's best agent," Kenji growled, standing up. "But he's not walking away from here alive."

"Kenji! Get down, man! You gonna get us killed!" Mark reached over to Kenji to grab his partner, but the Soviet soldier beside him stayed the agent's hand.

"We must get away. Your friend will be captured, and so will you if you go after him."

"You fuckin' commie, that's my partner there! My tovarisch, nyet?"

"#Hey! Who's that on the airplane? Someone stop him!#"

Mark's last pull towards Kenji was held fast by Kalinin; the Soviet commando put the taller man in an armlock. With a mighty heave, Kalinin shifted his weight to slide down the side of the Antonov, landing hard, but on his feet, tumbling under Mark's weight.

"You would be captured with your friend?" Kalinin asked. "We use confusion, gather my men, and escape. Come!"

"Shit, man, that hurt!" Mark picked himself up from the ground, following the Spetsnaz, already at a dead run.

Kenji dashed across the Antonov's broad, flat wing, oblivious to the shouts from below. It didn't take him more than a few seconds to reach the wingtip and leap with all his might.

"YOU KILLED THEM!"

Richard Sonoma saw the blur of movement out of the corner of his eye, turning to look just as the five-foot-six form of Kenji Moriyama came flying through the air at him.

MITHPAC Headquarters
Sydney, Australia
March 15th, 1978

The new recruit had leapt at the instructor with no warning.

"You bastard!" The small ex-SDF soldier had a previously unseen ferocity for his frame, a modest height for a Japanese man balanced by an impressive, muscular countenance; he had thrown it at the tall, thin martial arts instructor.

He landed one, two, three strong blows to the man's face and chest before the other recruits dragged him off by the lapels of his practice uniform.

"I remember you!" He yelled as he was pulled off and hauled down to the mats, held down by three other MITHRIL recruits. "You were there! You were at the airport! I'll KILL you!"

"What's gotten into him?" the junior instructor, a fourth-dan in jiu jutsu, wondered aloud as the man was hauled out, a base security officer waiting outside the door of the judo. "I'm surprised he even got close enough to lay a hand on you."

NAPA VALLEY accepted the man's hand, bringing himself up to his feet. "Guess I wasn't expecting such a promising recruit," he lied quite convincingly, rubbing a particularly nasty-looking bruise on his temple. "Where'd we pick him up?"

"Let me check. The rest of you, start warming up! Thirty laps around the dojo!"

The class of twenty recruits barked out a sharp "Yes, sir!" and started their run.

"Kenji Moriyama, age twenty-two. He's career SDF, joined up by faking his age. We nailed him just before he was to be bumped to a full Master Sergeant. National Defense Academy grad, class of '74, top in his class. He made the Nationals in competitive judo and he's at instructor level for a lot of other martial arts. He shows some aptitude for clandestine service, judging from how he got the drop on our recruiter when he started to tail the guy."

"Seems like he's pretty skilled."

"He made the Olympic prequalifications in judo as a child, but he got caught up in the crossfire at Lod Airport. I heard that we were involved in it."

"Yeah. Operation BLAZING TIGER. We nailed the leader of the Japanese Red Army there, but it took an infiltration to get in that deep. I should know. After all, I was the one that infiltrated the group."

"Really?" The junior instructor started stretching his arms. "That must have been really dicey."

"The worst part was at Lod Airport. Like I said... I was the one that infiltrated the JRA."

The instructor froze. "So that's why he was so angry at you..."

NAPA VALLEY nodded grimly. "After all, I'm the man who killed his parents."

To be continued...