CONTROVERCY
Misha was our interpreter, and he was sweating. Being a Kosovan, he was feeling edgy. The Serbian Captain I had been introduced to, was bedridden and had a sickly smell to him. If I were to guess, he would not live long. We had medivacs on the way, but it would take an hour for them to get here through the mountain passes to this remote and inaccessible location, even by air. He was too unstable to move without advanced medical care.
“The Captain says it was the Kosovan Liberation Army who took the hostages. The soldiers you killed were all KLA, wearing the Serbian uniform.” Misha said. His brow beaded in sweat. I knew he was nervous. Working as our translator placed him in grave danger. If word got out of his involvement in this operation he would be skinned alive. Literally.
I nodded encouragingly. Then I put up my hand to stall him as I listened to my comms relay. We had one of our own men who spoke a bit of Serbian listening in, and while he wasn’t good with all the nuances, he had enough of an understanding to know if the ‘terp was being duplicit.
“Yes Lieutenant, he is relaying almost word for word. Accurately as far as I can tell.”
“Affirmative, the ‘terp checks out.” I replied aloud with the intention that Misha would know we were corroborating what he said. It would keep him on his toes.
“Please tell the Captain that there were no survivors in the floors upstairs, so we have no way to confirm what he says. The Hostages claim it was Serbian soldiers who captured them, not the KLA. Right now, I only have his word for it.”
Misha relayed my words and the Captain suddenly became agitated. “Fucking KLA Motha…. aah!” Then he gasped as his expletives caused him extreme discomfort. Clearly he had no love for Albanians or Kosovans. He then began again. In a careful and controlled tone, between gasps of pain. His cheeks deathly pale, this man was in a bad way.
His cursing startled me, then when he continued in carefully pronounced English, he surprised me again. “I do not have much time, they have taken both my kidneys and the machine … dia, diasis?… the machine they use to keep me alive is not working anymore.” He indicated the dialysis machine attached to him filtering his blood. It was working again now that the power had been restored, but according to our medic, that was a temporary solution. What he needed was his kidneys back.
The Captain and another batch of soldiers were in recovery rooms that Three and Four had discovered when they cleared their side of the basement. All of them with missing organs and in various states of recovery. Only this Captain was in a life threatening situation.
“Our job was to come here and reinforce a .. what you call a Forward Observation Post. This farm’s presence in this valley, near Stimjlie makes it hard for aerial bombardment. We are close enough to Prestina to stage actions from here, with a direct route. The terrain and inclement weather make it hard for attention…no, that’s wrong word. Forgive me, my English is not as good as before. Detection! I mean the weather makes it hard for detection. Hard for NATO, hard for Kosovan forces, to find us here.”
Each sentence he said seemed to take him closer to death. I looked at Bill, our team medic and he shook his head. With no kidneys I was surprised the Captain was still alive, despite the dialysis machine.
The Captain gathered himself before he continued, “The KLA bastards infiltrated us, my team, caught us unprepared. They had our uniforms, and destroyed our radio. Only ten of them and twenty five of us. But they drugged us and when we woke, we were in this situation. They also captured people from that local village Stimjlie, all Kosovans, suspected collaborators. They were just people who supplied us with food. People eager to make some money in hard times. Not really collaborators. These bastards kept us all here. They harvest our organs and sell them. These DOG’s have no honor!" His proclamation was forceful and brought him to a fit of deep wet coughs.
I looked at Bill again, who was adjusting the IV he had administered. He didn’t meet my eyes. I looked at the camera standing on a tripod recording the interview, the red record light blinking incessantly. I wondered what HQ would make of this. The KLA were supposed to be our Allies.
Misha was sweating from every pore, despite the cool environment. If ever he voiced any of what we had discovered here his life would be worth less than spit.
“So what you are telling me Captain, is that the KLA with Ethnic Albanian cadres, and some of the local Kosovan military wing, are harvesting your body organs, …from live soldiers? Not only from soldiers but from civilians they deem as Serbian collaborators?” It was hard for me to believe despite seeing the evidence with my own eyes.
“You do realize that this is exactly in opposition to the narrative that the world is viewing? NATO is claiming you are the bad guys. You are the ones committing atrocities.”
“Bah!” The Captain snorted in disgust between wheezes. “Everything we say is discounted. We are Serbians, we are without mercy, we are despised by everyone. That is natural and understandable. We have done things, we know it, but we stand for something. We stand for ourselves, for our land.” Again he paused. His brow crinkled as his concentration slipped. I could feel he was building up to something. “The reason I am telling you, Lieutenant, is because the British army is respected.”
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I laughed in his face then. A harsh brutal laugh. “Don’t tongue my arse Captain. You know full well us Brits don’t get on with anyone. Especially here.”
“Yes, it is true, you are hated by all.” A rueful smile passed briefly across his lips as he nodded. “You are respected though, and this is why you are hated. Not because you are working with NATO, …it is simply because you too hate everyone here and treat everyone here equally. I am on my last. I can feel the poisons of my body overflowing.”
A coughing fit brought his narrative to an end. I turned to Misha.
“Thank you, we will not be needing you. Please go back outside.”
Dismissed, the ‘terp left the room hurriedly, and it was only myself, the video camera and Bill left to witness the Captain’s passing. He waved his hand and reached for my sleeve. He was struggling to speak, but I gave him my full attention.
“It is hard for me, …my dying breaths, spoken in English. I yearn for my mother tongue. I want to speak to my men before I pass. Can you send me the highest ranking person who is left? I forget who they took already.” I nodded to him. it wasn’t an unreasonable request. “Also Lieutenant, I implore you. I beg with my dying breath, let my boys go back home. They have been through enough.” His grip tightened on my arm. “Do not take them prisoner. They will be killed or tortured. Is this not enough of a tragedy?” His eyes were tearing up. “We were soldiers doing our duty. Nothing more. We did not murder innocents, we simply followed orders.”
What he said struck a chord deep within me, and I knew what he spoke of. This ethnic war within the old Yugoslavia region was the dirtiest type of war where everyone was a victim and blood was equally splayed on everyone’s hands. Unlike Pontius Pilate, washing hands would not absolve them of this stain.
I made a decision. Fuck this war. When you get an opportunity to be human, then you should grasp it with both hands. The Captain was right that the Brits hated everyone here. Mostly because everyone was telling lies and pointing fingers, but here, …here at this farm I had seen some truths that would live with me forever. Truths that showed just how twisted and demented the world could be. That humans could, and would stoop to the lowest levels just for money. That our very Allies would be plotting these sinister setups to prey off of human misery. It spoke volumes about the depravity of the hatred spreading through these lands. There had been enough hate, enough pain. It was time someone did something right. Something good.
I turned to the tearful man gasping his final breaths, “I cannot free your men Captain. I am sorry. Besides, they are bedridden. Many incapacitated.” I watched him visibly deflate, and he turned his head away from me. Dismissive and angry. I then moved to the video camera and turned it off.
“You have five men who could make an escape. The others are in too bad a shape. I will see to it.” His head turned back sharply, hope flooding his face. I nodded to him. Stood to attention and saluted. “A war should have rules.” I continued, “I will get one or more of your men to come and be with you during your final moments. Godspeed Captain.” I left the room with Bill in tow and planned an act of mercy that many would call treason. The Captain was right. These men had been through enough.
My vision went dark as Kosovo and it’s memories receded and the word “INTEGRITY” seemed to echo about the recesses of my mind. I blinked and realized the lighting had been turned on in my cell within the Gnome labyrinth, indicating the start of a new day. I wiped the drool from my lips and brushed the sleep from my eyes. A notification waited for me.
“Assimilation 60% complete”
Adrenaline raced through my veins, this wasn’t supposed to happen. I thought BURT and I were on a 50/50 arrangement. I didn’t want a machine taking over my consciousness.
“BURT are you seeing this?” I blurted. The AI responded placatingly without infliction. It kind of calmed me down, but not really. How much could I trust this machine in my head?
“I have become more Petros.” It wasn’t reassuring and I wondered what to say, what to ask? Was I really getting consumed from within?
“I now have the ability to interact with you on a subconscious level. Do you know what that means?”
I clawed at my head. I was freaking out. “No, BURT, I want you out of me.” I didn’t know if I meant that, because of all the obvious benefits BURT brought to my abilities, but in this world, I was still advancing on the system here, did I really need BURT?” These thoughts and more raced around my head and I tried to make sense of them.
“Relax Petros!” BURT's stern voice overrode my panic and suddenly a sense of peace rushed through my body. He was even able to control my endocrine system. “I am never going to take over your mind. With an increase in assimilation, it just means I can participate in your life experience more precisely. For example your latest dream. I was able to observe it. Admittedly it is a terrible dream and reflects poorly on humanity. I only have my cold logic circuits to process the information, however, I must admit, even without the emotive content that often clouds your judgment, this memory you relived is atrocious.
“Really? You are going to be my shrink now?” I scoffed, but it was all bravado and BURT knew it. He was almost me now. I wondered why Avihs was allowing this encroachment of my psyche, or if he was part of the process at all.
Suddenly my Ring of storing glowed hotly around my finger and both my chest tattoo and sigil on my forehead all began to throb with a pleasant warmth. It was a soothing feeling and I felt a harmonious sense of peace settle on and through me. A voice rang in my head. Not BURT this time but Avihs.
“All is well Petros, you are well, you are in no danger. All is as it should be” and that was it. Nothing more. His presence was felt then gone. Perhaps it was all he could do, or maybe it was all that I needed. I calmed down some and ordered my thoughts.
On some level I knew that reliving these traumatic events helped me. It was as if my mind was activating different components of my personality through the traumatic discharges. Realigning my mind with my body after being ripped from the mortal coil.
Even though I was unsettled. I still felt more in tune with myself, more at ease.
To facilitate the feeling of calm, I started doing some Tai Chi Chuan to loosen my stiff muscles and allow my Chi to flow while I gathered my thoughts into some semblance of sanity.