Two months later, Snyder sat in bed in his hospital room. Bandages covered his face other than his eyes and mouth. He opened the letter Father Goodwin had sent to him and removed a print out of a newsreader screen.

Father Goodwin had written across the top in bold red type, “I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY!!!!”

The story read:

Local Priest Commits Suicide

Las Vegas, NV: At the Circus Circus casino, guests found Father Jude Bernard’s body at the bottom of the swimming pool. Bernard had jumped into the pool with a hundred pound barbell tied to his neck.

Police found a cryptic suicide note in a waterproof compartment of the priest’s cassock. The note read, “But he that shall scandalize one of these little ones that believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone should be hanged about his neck, and that he should be drowned in the depth of the sea. “

Snyder sneered. “Now, not only am I res-ponsible for your sin, but your note makes me responsible for your death, Padre.”

A sneak preview story caught his eye:

Prosecutor Found Dead

Las Vegas, NV: A noted military prosecutor, Major Bryce Hollerman, died last night when he lost control of his car and went off the road.

Snyder hesitated. Hollerman wasn’t a bad guy. He just had some bad ideas.

It was bound to happen. That’s life. Could’ve been Dread or that ever-lovin’ kiss-up, Merle.  

Snyder laughed. Merle, successfully stage a murder?

A third item caught Snyder’s eye.

     

Colonel Censured

Las Vegas, NV: Major Charlie Merle has said Colonel Paul Dread lied about an incident under oath, but has apologized will not be prosecuted.

Dread, apologize? He was incapable of it. “Major Charlie Merle, what a sap. Unless Dread killed the major so Merle could get promoted and Prosecutor Merle agreed to drop the case to return the favor.”

But who cares if a guy who was only trying to do his job was killed so a dolt could replace him? Not my concern.

Snyder put down the letter from Goodwin and filed it way along with his other reasons for being irreligious.

He picked up the half-drank shot glass of scotch on the bedstead. Nick Verducci’s friends could drink in Verducci’s hospital. But Snyder would stick with one drink this time.

Snyder grinned like the Cheshire cat, left the Scotch, and walked out, ignoring the insult-ing courtesy. The big day he’d been waiting for had finally arrived

The nurse and Snyder into Dr. Abraham Arturo’s plush office. Dr. Arturo said, “It’s at last time to see my latest masterpiece.”

Arturo unwound the bandages. With each layer gone, Snyder felt a little more human. The process had begun when the doctor removed the bandages on his eyes and mouth, areas where healing balm had not been administered. The rest of his face was a matter of moving bones and cartilage back where they belonged, a task beyond the nanites’ capabilities.

Arturo washed Snyder’s face with a wipe and pulled out a small mirror. “Behold.”

Snyder stared in the mirror and touched his cheek. “It’s me.”

But it was different than it had been before the beatings and the betrayals. Something was different about this man staring back at him that hadn’t been there three months before.

The doctor sighed. “I know what’s wrong.  There’s a very small scar on your forehead.”

Snyder frowned. “There is?”

“Only the trained eye can see it. A couple more days of healing balm should correct it.”

Snyder glanced away. “Doc, you know, some scars never heal.”

This concludes the story. Further adventures of A.L. Snyder are available in the Laser and Sword issues.

Tales of the Dim Knight is available in Paperback form, in the Kindle Store as well as on Smashwords in a variety of formats. At both sites, you can get extensive free excerpts on your computer, or sent directly to your Kindle device from the Kindle store.

Snyder sat in silence beside Blackjack, who drove a rental gray Ford Escape on a highway headed towards Los Angeles.

Blackjack sighed. “Okay, I’ll bite. Kid, why did you go to San Diego?”

Snyder sighed. “I wanted to get away, and it was the destination of the next metro headed out of town.”

“Your mother was worried.”

“Well, I don’t care anymore.”

Blackjack jerked off the road. “What?”

“I don’t care if she’d belt me, if she’d ap-prove, if she’d disapprove. I’ve resolved I’m not going to care. I’m going to live for me.”

“Hell of a philosophy. Same as Dread’s.”

“I’m nothing like him!”

“He cares about himself, what he wants, that’s it. He couldn’t care less what happens to others. The good news is you can’t just sign up to be a sociopath. Can be tempting, though. If you never care, you never hurt, and nobody can ever stab you in the back.”

“You make it sound like a crutch.”

“Because it is. It’s running from the world. Drown your pain in booze or gamble it into nothing. Nobody cares about you, you don’t care about nobody. But it’s a miserable life.”

Blackjack stared Snyder in the eye. “Don’t run from the world. It needs you too much. You not only care, you can do something.” Blackjack merged back into traffic. “Okay, end of speech. We got a plastic surgeon to meet.”

Something’s different about Blackjack. “Didn’t I read that your kid died?”

Blackjack nodded. “Drunk driver hit him six months ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“The goodbye is not forever.”

Blackjack found religion?

At least Blackjack’s not a Bible beater. That’s about as close he’ll ever come to ‘witnessing.’

Continued Next Thursday

Tales of the Dim Knight is available in Paperback form, in the Kindle Store as well as on Smashwords in a variety of formats. At both sites, you can get extensive free excerpts on your computer, or sent directly to your Kindle device from the Kindle store.

Snyder awoke and grasped his head. It felt like it was about to split in two. Snyder cursed. He sat up and buried his face in his hands.

Once the dizziness subsided, he looked up. He was in an old-fashioned doctor’s office.

In strolled an auburn-haired man wearing the odd combination of a kilt, a sweat shirt, and a lab coat. “I see you’re awake.”

Snyder groaned. Talking hallucinations.

The redhead said, “The pain you’re feeling is a good thing. It means you’re alive. You almost weren’t after last night.”

“I wasn’t?”

“You had a rather severe case of alcohol poisoning, but God healed you.”

Snyder rubbed his temples. “If God healed me, why do I have the headache?”

“To remind you not to do something so stupid. The bartender said you’d gone through two bottles of Scotch. You might as well have been drinking arsenic.”

“If it’ll help me forget.”

“I suspect a young man as brilliant as you will find that pretty hard.”

Snyder peered closer. “Hey, I was here a few months ago! You’re Dr. McIntyre. How’s the new security software going?”

“Fine, and please, call me Brother Kael.”

“I’m no brother to you.”

“Then I take it man has let you down, and you’re walking away from God?”

“It’s not just a man. It’s the Church.”

“That’s a shame.” Kael hesitated. “I can help you find a new church.”

Snyder laughed. Kael probably could; his folks deserved the credit for half the protestant Christian “terror cells” in existence. “You might as well ask me to find a new God. The Catholic church is the Church.”

“So you’ll punish the entire denomination because of one man?”

“If you want to view it that way, fine.”

“And you’re either you’re a Catholic or—”

“A heathen.” Which Protestants called him already. “And this heathen is leaving.”

“You friend John McGraw will be here in a couple minutes.”

“Fine, but no more religious talk. I thank you for saving me. You’re a good doctor. But I’m done with God.”

“But he’s not done with you, Snyder. Go your way, but our Father will call you home.”

Continued Next Thursday

Tales of the Dim Knight is available in Paperback form, in the Kindle Store as well as on Smashwords in a variety of formats. At both sites, you can get extensive free excerpts on your computer, or sent directly to your Kindle device from the Kindle store.

Snyder stumbled out of the metro car and onto the high, windy platform. He peered at the San Diego skyline. He’d grabbed the first high speed monorail headed out of town. Guess it’d gone pretty far out of town.

Mama’s going to be worried.

Snyder frowned. “You’re looking out for you now, remember?”

He jumped down the pressurized air shaft, bounced out onto the street level, and stumbled into the Irish pub next door. Snyder walked up to the bar. “I want Scotch.”

The bartender poured Snyder a glass.

Snyder said, “Save yourself time, leave me the bottle.”

The bartender said, “No thanks.”

“I can hold my liquor, and I’ll pay for the whole bottle with a generous tip included.”

The bartender waved a wand tag reader over the bottle and Snyder’s right wrist. “And the tip?”

“$100.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Just keep the liquor coming.”

After two full bottles, whatever problems had led Snyder here drifted away in a haze.

Continued Next Thursday

Tales of the Dim Knight is available in Paperback form, in the Kindle Store as well as on Smashwords in a variety of formats. At both sites, you can get extensive free excerpts on your computer, or sent directly to your Kindle device from the Kindle store.

Late that evening, Snyder entered the sanctuary. At the altar, Father Bernard’s eye twitched. Snyder trembled with the desire to deck him. “So, while I was on trial for my life for not raping a child for free, you were paying for the privilege.”

“They’re not children in mind. They grow up quickly.”

“I guess that’s what all pedophiles say.”

“I’ve not gone there in years. I know the church’s teaching, but with your little military operation, and taking all the risks associated with fighting the Empire, I cracked.”

“So, it’s my fault you raped a child.”

“No, I’m not saying its your fault.”

“Don’t give me that. You’re alleging you never would’ve gone back to this if I hadn’t been such a bad influence on you.”

“No.”

“Don’t try to con me.”

“I never conned you.”

“You acted like you cared about me, only to abandon me for months, when I needed you most, in order to rape a child.”

“I didn’t rape my Emily. I loved her. Someone else would’ve taken those hours and hurt Emily. But you won’t understand, neither would the Bishop.”

“I don’t. It’s not something to understand. It’s sick.”

“I knew if you saw me, you’d know. I was naked and hid myself, as Adam said.”

“You know, Nick Verducci is a hedonist, but at least he doesn’t pretend to be something else.” Snyder removed his rosary from his poc-ket and dropped it. “Keep the souvenir. From now on, I’m gonna look out for me. No one else will. It’ll be a cold day in Hell before I’ll ever buy into this religious stuff again.”

Snyder ran from the church.

Father Bernard’s voice echoed through the night. “Come back, I’m sorry! Come back!”

Continued Next Thursday

Tales of the Dim Knight is available in Paperback form, in the Kindle Store as well as on Smashwords in a variety of formats. At both sites, you can get extensive free excerpts on your computer, or sent directly to your Kindle device from the Kindle store.

Snyder entered the unlocked church and slid through an empty foyer and sanctuary. He went around to the rectory. Father Goodwin sat behind the desk in the office. “Hello, Snyder. You made it out of jail, I see.”

“Where’s Father Bernard?”

“He said he was going downtown to get a couple things.”

“I can catch a bus that way. Which store?”

“He didn’t say. You’re better off waiting. He’ll be back in two hours.”

Two hours? I’ll explode.

Snyder ran out to catch the bus. It had an actual human driver, an overweight black guy, and two passengers, an elderly Hispanic couple holding hands, lost in each other’s eyes.

Snyder asked, “Hey, did a Catholic priest get on the bus?”

The driver nodded. “Yeah, I picked the guy up twenty minutes ago.”

“Let me off at his stop if you remember.”

“Well, there’s where he got off and where he goes.”

“Take me where he goes.”

“Cost you.”

Snyder slipped an old American bill into the driver’s hand. He frowned. “A five?”

“I just got out of jail.”

“I’m feeling generous today.”

After several stops, at one of which the old lovers got off, the bus halted outside the public harem that had been Dread’s “surprise.” The structure looked like a cross between an inner city boarding school and a convenience store.

The driver opened the bus’s doors. “This is your stop.”

Snyder walked to the driver. “There has to be a mistake.”

“Nope. For two and a half months now, he gets on the bus, gets off two blocks from here, and walks over. Apparently, it’s not becoming for a priest to get off at the public harem, but walking right into it is fine.”

Snyder stared at the hateful place. “This can’t be. It must be another priest.”

Out of the public harem stepped Father Bernard with a sickening smile. Snyder made eye contact. Father Bernard’s smile faded.

Snyder ran to the back of the bus. “Close the door. I’ll get off at the end of the line.”

The bus jerked into motion. Snyder buried his face in his hands as hot tears streaked down.

Continued Thursday

Tales of the Dim Knight is available in Paperback form, in the Kindle Store as well as on Smashwords in a variety of formats. At both sites, you can get extensive free excerpts on your computer, or sent directly to your Kindle device from the Kindle store.

Snyder walked out of the courthouse a civilian for the first time in four years.

A long black stretch limo pulled up. Hired muscle rolled down one of the back windows. “Get in. Boss wants to talk to you.”

Snyder folded his arms. “What if I don’t want to talk to him?”

The mug pulled a gun. “He can be pretty persuasive.”

Snyder got in the car beside Verducci.

Verducci waved the driver on. “Go around the block.”

Snyder asked,  “So, are you going to bump me off?”

Verducci laughed. “Kid, I said around the block, not down to the ocean. I don’t do that myself. It’s very unpleasant. I just wanted to say what you did took a lot of guts.”

 “Thanks. Coming from a harem operator, that’s a compliment, I guess.”

“I’ve been rationalizing that for years. All these prophets come by and tell me to free them and take care of them, and I’ve ignored it. Then you went on trial, and I felt like a skunk.”

“If I’d run, the captive clientele would’ve made you feel much better, I’m sure.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If the court had ruled that everyone had to use public harems, you would have seen an increase in business.”

“Kid, not everybody thinks as strategically as you do. I just felt guilty about owning the harems, partnering with Bloody Harry no less. But, you went through this whole thing and took the risks. So, I tell you what I’m going to do. I’ll close all four harems I operate and make provision for the girls. And as for you, I got you an appointment with a friend in Los Angeles. He’ll make you look like yourself rather than like you spent five years playing hockey and then took up boxing.”

“Thanks, Verducci.”

“And if there’s anything else, call me.”

Snyder got out of the car. Harems would be closed. Girls would be going free. He’d have to tell Father Bernard.

Mama Borden grabbed his arm. “Anny, come on, boy! We have to go out to celebrate.”

“Later, I got to talk to somebody.”

“Okay, but when you get back, I want to hear about that serial killer and your Indian father and whatever else you haven’t told me.”

“Okay, if you promise not to hit me.”

“Baby, I’m glad to have you alive. I’ll give you amnesty.”

“Thanks.”

Continued Thursday

Tales of the Dim Knight is available in Paperback form, in the Kindle Store as well as on Smashwords in a variety of formats. At both sites, you can get extensive free excerpts on your computer, or sent directly to your Kindle device from the Kindle store.

The judge said, “So ordered.”

Snyder, Hollerman, Mama, and Cerulean sat in the conference room.

Hollerman clapped. “Bravo. I enjoy having someone at the opposite table who is not awed by my reputation. I’m prepared to do some-thing I’ve never done before. I’m willing to offer a plea bargain.”

Snyder laughed. “Oh, you do comedy on the side? That jury’s not going to convict me. “

“Yes, you can walk out a free man and be returned to duty. You can be known as the man who defeated Major Bryce Hollerman in court. And they can put it in your epithet in weeks.”

Mama Borden glared at Hollerman. “You threatening my boy?”

“No, ma’am. In an ideal world, I’d move for the case to be dismissed and recruit Snyder into JAG. Unfortunately, the Imperial military has a culture of gaining promotion by arrang-ing accidents for your superiors. I don’t support it, but I’ve never had the cooperation needed to bring a case. Snyder’s defense today threatens that culture. So long as he’s enlisted, he’ll wear a target on his back. But if he’s not enlisted, I can take the evidence he’s gathered and build my case against Dread. And more importantly, Snyder can stay alive.”

Snyder sighed. “What’s the deal?

 “The treason charge will be dropped if you will plead guilty to insubordination. You’ll be demoted and discharged.”

“I’ll plead no contest, but I won’t plead guilty.”

“That’s reasonable.”

“What about your case law?”

“There’ll be another case. This one came with too high of a price tag. I’d rather get Dread than hang you.”

“A. L. Snyder, this court finds you guilty of insubordination. You are hereby demoted to the rank of Private First Class and dishonorably discharged.” Judge Appel banged his gavel.

Hollerman approached the defense table and ripped the rank and the imperial insignia from Snyder’s dress uniform. “Mr. Snyder, you are free to go.”

Continued Thursday

Tales of the Dim Knight is available in Paperback form, in the Kindle Store as well as on Smashwords in a variety of formats. At both sites, you can get extensive free excerpts on your computer, or sent directly to your Kindle device from the Kindle store.

Oh boy, I’m in trouble now. “Why didn’t you report her? You knew I was underage.”

Dread waved. “A minor regulation.”

“Wasn’t it the JAG’s place to judge that? Didn’t you request the assignment of the officer in question, Captain Amanda Greywolf, who has since been executed by hanging for several of counts of homicide, which were charged as hate crimes for targeting minorities?”

A psst noise turned Snyder’s head to the gate where Cerulean was gesturing for Snyder.

“Just a moment.” Snyder jogged over to Cerulean.

Cerulean handed him a file folder. “Your friend the invisible man wants you to enter Amanda Greywolf’s record into evidence.”

“Thanks.” Snyder returned to the bench waving the file in the air. “I present as Defense Exhibit C Amanda Greywolf’s military record, which includes several warnings of misconduct towards those in her command and concerns about her gambling problem. What possessed you to bring her here?”

“I thought she’d be a good fit.”

“A gambling addict near Las Vegas is like a drunk in a rum factory. You brought her on because you knew she was a serial killer and you knew my natural father was three quarters native American.”

Mama asked, “He was?”

Hollerman said, “Objection. Your honor, it becomes clear to the prosecution there’s been a lovely soap opera going on here in the desert, but as much as the people appreciate the art, I fail to see the relevance.”

Snyder said, “I’m getting to that. Dread, tell me why was I finally promoted.”

“It was recommended by the late Colonel Morgan. I objected because I didn’t think you  specialist material, but Sergeant Major Kendall impressed upon me that she found you a useful addition. And since I was leaving anyway—”

“Before Colonel Morgan died, how did you get along?”

“We did fine.”

“Did you really? I’ve got witnesses willing to testify that, on the morning of the day he died, Colonel Morgan broke down your door because you didn’t answer quick enough for him and verbally assaulted you for sloth within hearing distance of several enlisted men.”

 “Oh, that. Just a little misunderstanding. I don’t hold grudges against dead men.”

“Not if you killed them.”

Hollerman said, “Objection, lacks proper foundation. Further, the witness isn’t on trial.”

“Withdrawn. Colonel, it took you an over-ly long time to be promoted to captain. Have you read any of your evaluations?”

“You read my evaluations?”

“Yes, and I actually gained access legally. An early one says, ‘Lieutenant Dread displays violent, anti-social tendencies.’ Next we have, ‘Lieutenant Dread lacks good judgment and has a violent temper.’ And then we have, ‘The big-gest mistake I’ve observed in all my years in the military is the decision to graduate Lieutenant Dread from the academy.’ It continues even into your later career. ‘I’m transferring Major Dread to intelligence because there he will have fewer opportunities to damage military morale and our public image.’ I ask that his evaluations be entered as exhibits ‘D’ through ‘W’.”

Dread shrugged. “So I wouldn’t win Mr. Congeniality.”

“Nor would you be congenial to Colonel Morgan. The prosecution has accepted the facts that I provided on a mission that you, myself, Colonel Morgan, and Sergeant Kendall were on. Tell me, how did Colonel Morgan die?”

Hollerman said, “Objection, relevance.”

“Your honor, it goes to the motive for the order in question. If it was an attempt to cover up a crime, it wasn’t a valid order.”

The judge said, “Proceed. Colonel Dread, please answer the question.”

“We were patrolling the basement area in search of our objective. Two terrorists ambush-ed us from behind. They fired two shots that hit Colonel Morgan and missed me. I turned and shot the killers.”

Got you for perjury. “You sure about that?”

“You have another theory you can prove?”

“I’d like to do a re-enactment.”

Hollerman said, “The prosecution has no objection provided we can do it in the court-room.”

“We can.”

Hollerman walked over to Snyder. “Good to know someone else watches ancient episodes of Matlock. I’d like to play a role.”

“Sure, you can be Colonel Dread. I’ll be Colonel Morgan, and I’ll need the two guards to be the terrorists.” Snyder gestured for Holler-man to follow him. “So, Colonel Dread, you and Colonel Morgan were walking through a basement area like this. Are we about the right distance apart.”

Dread said, “It looks right.”

“Now the two terrorists come out and they shoot me in the back. Just wave your guns and say bang, bang.”

At the dead silence, Snyder peeked behind him. The guards were shooting their very silent index fingers at him.

Snyder lay on his stomach. “Then I fall down dead, and Colonel Dread shoots the two terrorists.”

Hollerman turned and used his finger as a gun. “Bang, bang.”

Snyder stood. “Is this how it happened?”

Dread nodded. “Yes, exactly.”

“Great. Only one problem. It couldn’t have  happened this way.”

“I was there. I fired three shots.”

“I sent forensics folks out last week. They found all three of your bullets embedded in the wall. The bullets that killed the terrorists came from Colonel Morgan’s gun. Thus, he killed the terrorists, not the other way around. How does a dead man shoot his killers?”

Dread blinked.

Snyder said, “It’s ironic, sir. You set me up lest I get curious and investigate. Instead, this trial got Morgan’s body exhumed and the crime scene checked out. You killed Colonel Morgan because he knew you’d taken credit for work I did and he threatened to expose you. He killed those terrorist and, when his back was turned, you shot him with the terrorist’s gun.”

“The terrorist fired the weapon.”

“No, he didn’t. This was an old gun, and there were no powder burns on his hands. Tell me, Colonel, you wore gloves that day. Do you still have those gloves?”

“No.”

“Very interesting. Nothing further.”

Hollerman stood. “Your honor, I’d like to ask for a fifteen minute recess to confer with the defendant in the conference room.”

Continued Thursday

Tales of the Dim Knight is available in Paperback form, in the Kindle Store as well as on Smashwords in a variety of formats. At both sites, you can get extensive free excerpts on your computer, or sent directly to your Kindle device from the Kindle store.

Hollerman stood and approached the wit-ness stand. “Sir, isn’t it true your business is in direct competition with public harems?”

Snyder stood. “Objection, relevance.”

“Give me a minute, your honor.”

The judge said, “For now, I’ll overrule the objection, proceed.”

Raulston sniffed. “Would you argue that  five star restaurants compete with McDonald’s? The businesses I highly recommend rear their concubines to be sweet, loving, and cultured and guarantee their virginity. Further, I assist clients with McDonald’s budgets by providing them representation in the process of buying exclusive rights to public concubines, so no.”

“But if everyone were required to use the public harems, your business would suffer.”

Raulston laughed. “Sir, you clearly do not know my business at all. Men who can afford new concubines would sooner die than set foot in a public harem. Not only does this include Donovan the Steward, but the Emperor himself. You will never see a law that would hurt me.”

“Mr. Raulston, do you really expect us to believe that men who travel frequently would not use their own public facilities? Would you not lie to protect your business interests?”

Snyder stood. “Objection, argumentative.”

The judge said, “Sustained.”

Hollerman glared at Snyder.

Raulston raised a finger. “I’ll answer. Sir, when you purchase an elite concubine, you join an elite club. It is this club’s culture to offer each other free entertainment while away. Frankly, your ignorance astounds. Any school girl could tell you that Donovan the Steward has insulted many a guest by refusing to grant them the use of his private collection. He may not be choosy about his women, but he is particular about his concubines. So long as he still breathes, you will never be a threat to my business.”

Hollerman growled and threw his hands up. “No further questions.”

Snyder said, “I recall Colonel Paul Dread to the stand and ask to treat him as a hostile witness.”

The judge said, “I’ll allow it.”

Dread stormed to the witness stand.

Snyder said, “Colonel, did you retain the services of Mr. Raulston?”

Dread said, “Of course. I didn’t know you well and recalled an acquaintance quite recently discussed as saying Raulston offered excellent service at an excellent price.”

Sneaking a dig in. The jerk met Donovan by stealing the credit for Snyder’s work. “Do you routinely access confidential personnel files and send them to outside third parties without permission?”

“When I feel it is appropriate.”

“Are you aware Army Regulation 8-304 governs the release of confidential files? Could you show me where, “Colonel Dread felt it was appropriate” is on the list of allowed reasons?”

Hollerman stood. “Objection.”

“Withdrawn. Now, Colonel, why did you proceed with the hire at the public harem when you knew it would not be well-received?”

Dread shrugged. “Sometimes, we must do difficult things. As Major Hollerman said, the military depends on rough men.”

“So your stance is you did it for my own good?”

“Yes.”

“Did you also deny six recommendations of promotion that were submitted in the last three years for my own good?”

Dread glanced to Hollerman expectantly.

Snyder smiled in the dead silence. “We’re establishing a pattern of conduct, Colonel.”

“I have always questioned the wisdom of having someone in intelligence with a criminal background.”

“So you denied promotion six times even when it was endorsed by my row supervisor and the CO over the operations center.”

 “Yes, but—”

“That was all.”

“You were sleeping with one of the COs.”

Mama Borden gasped. “Anny!”

Continued Next Thursday

Tales of the Dim Knight is available in Paperback form, in the Kindle Store as well as on Smashwords in a variety of formats. At both sites, you can get extensive free excerpts on your computer, or sent directly to your Kindle device from the Kindle store.

On the day the continuance ended, Snyder walked over to Hollerman’s table and handed Hollerman a piece of paper. “A couple more stipulations for you to sign.”

Hollerman read them. “This seems basic.” Hollerman pulled a pen out and signed.

“Well, it beats having to spend ten days in court to establish all this.”

“It’s a pity I have to hang you, Snyder. You would’ve been good in the JAG.”

Thanks, I think.

Snyder returned to the defense table.

Judge Appel entered. Everyone rose until the judge sat and then retook their seats.

The judge said, “Specialist Snyder, are you ready to proceed?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“Major Hollerman?”

He said, “Yes, your honor.”

Snyder stood. “The defense calls Rogaine Raulston.”

A small, balding man with a patch of new growth was sworn in and sat in the witness stand. Snyder asked, “Mr. Raulston, what is your occupation?”

“I’m a personal shopper.”

“What do you help people shop for?”

“Concubines. They’re the ideal gift to give the lonely single in your life for Valentines Day, but it can be tricky determining the right buy.”

Snyder swallowed bile. “What do you re-quire to make a recommendation?”

“A background report and a psychological profile.”

“Did you get such a report for me?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Was a concubine purchased for me?”

“No, the client asked some questions and paid for consulting, but never made the buy.”

“What was your recommendation?”

“I advised the party to try a book. Based on your profile, I concluded you wouldn’t be a good match for a concubine and would view the gift negatively.”

“Were there any types of concubines you especially warned the party about?”

“Yes, I thought a black concubine would be particularly displeasing, given the attitudes you described your mother having in your con-fidential psychiatric file.”

“How did you get the file?”

“The client sent it to me.”

“Who was your client.”

Raulston flipped through electronic pages on an Iboard. “Mr. Paul Dread.”

A gasp went from the jury box.

The judge slammed down the gavel.

Snyder constrained his grin. “Your honor, I’d like to enter the report sent by Mr. Raulston to Colonel Dread as Exhibit B for identification. Your witness, Major.”

Continued Next Thursday

Tales of the Dim Knight is available in Paperback form, in the Kindle Store as well as on Smashwords in a variety of formats. At both sites, you can get extensive free excerpts on your computer, or sent directly to your Kindle device from the Kindle store.

At the end of Merle’s direct examination of the imperial law expert, Snyder stood at the defense table. “Your honor, I would like to dis-miss my attorney.”

Judge Appel leaned forward. “Specialist Snyder, have you ever heard the saying a man who is his own attorney has a fool for a client?”

“Yes, I believe a lawyer coined it.”

The jurors tittered in laughter. The judge banged the gavel. “Are you aware you cannot appeal on the basis of your own incompetence, and that, as an attorney, you are expected to act as an officer of this court and will be held to that standard?”

Merle stood. “Your honor, could I confer with my client?”

Snyder said, “Ex-client.”

Hollerman came over to the defense table. “Charlie, it’s not pleasant to be dismissed, but don’t take it personally. It happens. Leave with some dignity.” Hollerman returned to his table.  “If it pleases the court, the prosecution asks that Specialist Snyder’s request be granted and that Captain Merle be dismissed with no negative comment on his performance.”

The judge said, “Well, if it’s okay with the prosecution, we can now proceed to the cross-examination.”

As Hollerman cross-examined the Imperi-al law scholar, all of the arguments might as well have been in Greek. However, Hollerman stayed away from badgering and other obvious violations, so Snyder remained seated.

At eleven o’clock, Hollerman said, “No further questions, your honor.”

Snyder stood. “Your honor, I want to take my defense in a different direction, so, if it pleases the court, I’d like to request a seven day continuance to gather evidence.”

The judge frowned. “If you wanted to take a different direction, you shouldn’t have taken over right before the end of the trip.”

Hollerman stood. “If it pleases the court, could I have a moment with the Defense?”

At the judge’s nod, Hollerman came over to the defense table. “Snyder, I’ll give you your week. My only condition is that you don’t file an appeal alleging incompetence by Merle. This wasn’t a great trial for him, but he’ll be a good lawyer someday if he doesn’t get destroyed by an appeals court judge.”

“Fair enough.”

Hollerman walked back to his table. “Your honor, this is a Capital case. We should always have everything done in such a way that it’s in-disputable that we’ve provided a fair trial. I recommend we grant a one week continuance so Specialist Snyder can make whatever prepa-rations are necessary to make his defense.”

Snyder stood. “Your honor, I also ask to be relocated. The examinations I receive are not helpful to legal thinking.”

“What if we agree to leave you where you are, but no examinations?“ Hollerman turned to face Dread. “If I hear of any examinations, those who perpetrate them will themselves face court martial.” Hollerman turned to Snyder. “Is that agreeable?”

“Okay. I’ll also need a couple investigators with subpoena power.”

“Who are your investigators?”

Um, Mama and my eldest brother. “Azura Borden and Cerulean Borden.”

Hollerman smiled. “This will be amusing.”

Tales of the Dim Knight is available in Paperback form, in the Kindle Store as well as on Smashwords in a variety of formats. At both sites, you can get extensive free excerpts on your computer, or sent directly to your Kindle device from the Kindle store.

A few minutes later, McGraw opened Snyder’s cell door. “There, now everything’s been set up to look like you never left.”

Dread! Set up. Snyder’s eyes widened.  Their last mission. “You’re a genius.  Its been all set up to make it look like it was just a normal death, but it was murder.”

“What are you talking about?” McGraw laughed. “You’re just like your dad. Jim had these moments, and I never got them.”

Snyder grimaced. “McGraw, let’s get one thing straight. Genetics might say ‘Jim’ was my father, but I’ve never had a dad.”

“Touchy.”

 I’ll pretend you said touché. “Right. Have you hacked my personal e-mail?”

“Not recently—I mean no.”

“Well, hack it. I’ll be posting some drafts indicating what I’ll need. Send what I need to the courthouse.”

McGraw handed him the Jack of Spades. “Kid, you got my personal guarantee. What’s the plan?”

“For me to play a game called, ‘Lawyer.’”

Continued Next Thursday

Tales of the Dim Knight is available in Paperback form, in the Kindle Store as well as on Smashwords in a variety of formats. At both sites, you can get extensive free excerpts on your computer, or sent directly to your Kindle device from the Kindle store.

A hand slapped Snyder across the chops. “Kid, wake up.”

Snyder opened his eyes. In the back of a red conversion van, Blackjack McGraw sat over him despite being declared dead a decade ago at least.

“Blackjack, what are you doing here? More to the point, what am I doing here?”

“No need to thank me. It was a tough job, but when Nick Verducci sought me out to break you out of jail, I told him to keep the money.”

“That explains it. Doesn’t Verducci own a few public harems?”

“I’ve never needed to use one.” Blackjack stared into a pocket mirror and adjusted his hair. “Come to think of it, he probably does.”

“Then we know what his angle is, and it’s not ‘I like you, kid.’ If I leave town, more men will be going to his harem when I’m convicted in my absence and unable to appeal. Blackjack, I need your help.”

“What do you need?”

“I need you to break me back into jail.”

McGraw stared. “You sure they didn’t beat you too hard the last time?”

“Do you want to start visiting public harems regularly?”

“I’ll have you back in a jiffy.”

Continued Next Thursday

Tales of the Dim Knight is available in Paperback form, in the Kindle Store as well as on Smashwords in a variety of formats. At both sites, you can get extensive free excerpts on your computer, or sent directly to your Kindle device from the Kindle store.

Snyder sat in his cell. His beaten back felt raw even with healing balm applied so Hewitt would have a fresh skin to stripe next time.

The cell block door slid up and admitted a female guard.

I’ve not seen her before. But wait, I have.

Mama Borden stopped in front of his cell, wearing the guards’ uniform and heavy make-up to hide the wrinkles.

Snyder gasped. “Mama?”

She put a key in the cell door and turned it. “That’s Private Cyanne Jones-Walker.”

“I’m a Specialist. Are you going to salute?”

“Boy, drop the smart talk and come on. Cerulean’s got a car waiting.”

“That’s great, but, how did you get in?”

“I had a calculator in my coat and copied Dread’s passcode when he entered it. While I was wailing and screaming, I was looking for a way into the jail.”

“You disassociated.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You weren’t Mama watching your baby get beaten, you were ol’ Harriet, tryin’ to figure out how to break into jail and putting on so that nobody would suspect you.”

“It worked, didn’t it? Now come.”

“Mama, I can’t.”

“What do you mean? You got a car parked down the street and forty thousand American that Cerulean and I got by selling everything we couldn’t pack. You can.”

“Somebody told me nobody would die for a harem girl. If I leave, I’ll be sentenced while absent, there’d be no appeal, and really bad law would take root.”

“But you got to come. This world can go to Hell. No cracker’s gonna beat my baby.” Tears, real ones began to trickle down Mama Borden’s face. “God forgive me. I almost killed them.”

 “You couldn’t have killed them.”

“The guard was too intent on watching the ‘fun.’ I could have grabbed his gun.”

“Do you know how to turn off the safety?”

Mama Borden raised an eyebrow. “What’s a safety?”

“A reason not to feel guilty. You would’ve just embarrassed yourself. But let me see the gun in your holster.”

Mama Borden pulled it out. Snyder eyed it. “Safety’s on, good. So how’d you take care of the usual guard?”

“We had ourselves a friendly conversation over cider. I drugged his second cup.”

“You better get out before he comes to.”

Mama Borden gave Snyder a hug. Snyder winced. She started to cry again, but wiped the tears away. “I’ll drop the keys with our friend. But if you convicted, I’ll be back.”

Snyder watched Mama Borden leave and laid down and closed his eyes.

Continued Next Thursday

Tales of the Dim Knight is available in Paperback form, in the Kindle Store as well as on Smashwords in a variety of formats. At both sites, you can get extensive free excerpts on your computer, or sent directly to your Kindle device from the Kindle store.

Snyder sat on a bench in the back of the prison van with Mama Borden. “Mama, you shouldn’t have come. Dread has no thought that isn’t evil.”

“Anny, listen to me. I ain’t just some old lady. I may be pushin’ sixty—”

“Mama, you’re sixty-seven.”

“I can handle myself. I got your brothers and sisters out of worse spots.”

Snyder whispered, “They were micro-scopic embryos. You can’t inject me into your uterus unless you have a shrinking ray, which only exists in the movies.”

 “I told you, Mama will take care of it, and when I say that, I mean it.”

The van stopped.

Dread opened the back door and escorted them towards the jail. “Mrs. Borden, I hope you enjoyed your trip.”

Mama sneered. “It was a pleasure cruise.”

“I see where he gets it. Here’s a visitor badge.” Dread pressed buttons on a keypad at the jail door, which slid up.

Dread handed Snyder his jail clothes. “Go and change. These clothes look lovely on you.”

Snyder snarled. “Maybe I’ll arrange to get you a set someday.”

In a changing room, he traded his dress khakis for the gray prison uniform. He came back out.

Dread smiled. “Very good. Come this way, everyone.”

The guard led Dread, Snyder, and Mama Borden towards the cell blocks.

They passed the cell block.

Oh no. They couldn’t make mama watch this.

Snyder turned to Dread. “If you’ve got any decency, you’ll send her outside.”

Dread laughed. “Unfortunately for her, I haven’t any.”

They brought Snyder into the examination room with Mama Borden behind him.

Sergeant Hewitt stood by the whipping post. “You didn’t think I couldn’t be fair. But I promise, I treat you just like everybody else.”

Hewitt strapped Snyder to the post and powered up the shock fork.

Mama Borden shrieked, totally unlike her, “What are you doing?”

Dread waved at Snyder. “An examination, an approved method of questioning to find out additional info about the terrorist’s crimes.”

 “What do you hope to find out?”

 “A little of this, a little of that. You never know what you’ll find unless you look.”

Hewitt raised the shock fork.

Snyder braced himself and shut his eyes. His mother’s shrill cries rang through them.

Did Mary feel like Mama does right now?

Continued Next Thursday

Tales of the Dim Knight is available in Paperback form, in the Kindle Store as well as on Smashwords in a variety of formats. At both sites, you can get extensive free excerpts on your computer, or sent directly to your Kindle device from the Kindle store.

Merle packed up his papers.

Snyder said, “It moves.”

“That was embarrassing, Snyder.”

“So is hanging. Even I know Hollerman was way out of line. What were you doing?”

“What are you talking about? The man’s brilliant. In getting an acquittal, objecting like a bad TV lawyer won’t help.”

“So what’s your next plan, Perry Mason?”

Merle blinked. “Who?”

I forgot. I’m in the land of the philistines. “Never mind. What’s your plan?”

“I’ll call an Imperial law expert who dis-agrees with Hollerman regarding the Imperial charter.”

“So you can let Hollerman destroy your law expert just like he destroyed Dr. Boulet?”

“Look, this is good law I’m practicing.”

“I’d hate to see bad law. You were so stiff, you should be thankful we don’t hold court outdoors. There’d be pigeons landing on you.”

“Anything else?”

“That whole ‘rough men’ quote was taken from Orwell, whose works are banned by the Empire.”

Merle smiled. “Great. One question. How did you know that?”

Snyder swallowed. “I see your point.”

They couldn’t get Hollerman in trouble for reading forbidden literature unless Snyder ad-mitted to reading it. Besides, Hollerman could claim he didn’t know Orwell had said it. People still said ‘big brother’ to refer to intrusive gov-ernment policies even though Orwell had been banned for fifty years along with other authors that would cause stress by making the people distrust the Imperial government.

“Thanks for nothing, Merle.” Snyder walk-ed towards the waiting guard.

Mama Borden called, “Don’t worry, baby! Mama will take care of everything!”

Snyder smiled. That’d be what she’d tell him when he came to her with a scraped knee when he was a boy. A gallows was a lot harder to deal with.

Dread joined Mama Borden. “Pardon me, Mrs. Borden, would you like to accompany Specialist Snyder back to the stockade?”

No way, there’s something wrong here.

Mama smiled. “Why, thank you, Colonel, I think I will.”

Snyder swallowed. This wouldn’t be good.

Continued Next Thursday

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The next day, the prosecution rested at three o�clock. Captain Merle stood. �Defense calls Doctor Marie Boulet.�

The military psychiatrist took the stand.

Merle said, �After examining Specialist Snyder, what is your evaluation of Colonel�s Dread�s order?�

Dr. Boulet replied, �I believe the order was psychologically abusive to Specialist Snyder.�

�Could you elaborate?�

�Of prime importance is sexual autonomy. Decisions by persons about sexuality must be made consensually by the persons involved.�

Merle lifted a document from off the de-fense table. �The Defense would like to enter as exhibit A…� Merle walked across to the pros-ecution table and slapped the document on Hollerman�s desk. �Article two of the Imperial Charter granting the right of sexual autonomy to all persons.�

Hollerman chuckled.

Snyder sighed. This is not good.

Merle said, �Dr. Boulet, what is the appro-priate word for forcing someone to perform a sexual act against their will?�

�Rape.�

�So you�re saying Colonel Dread�s order to Specialist Snyder was the equivalent of rape.�

Hollerman said, �Objection!�

Merle held up his hand. �Withdrawn.� He turned to Dr. Boulet. �Were there other factors that would have extenuated this for Snyder?�

�He was raised in a black home. The girl chosen reminded him of his sisters. Further, his family indoctrinated him to believe that trade in non-persons restores the inhumane slave trade, which evilly regarded black persons as animals. This lie has led to a strong inhibition.�

�What would have been the psychological impact had Snyder obeyed Dread�s orders?�

�He was not capable of obeying. To do so would have psychologically devastated him.�

�Thank you. Your witness, Major.�

Hollerman stood. �Dr. Boulet, how long would you say have you been in his Imperial Majesty�s service?�

�Eleven years.�

�Would you say your average Imperial Soldier is mentally healthy?�

Boulet swallowed. �I couldn�t say.�

�Really?� Hollerman walked over to his desk and pulled out a piece of paper from a file folder. �Your honor, if it pleases the court, I�d ask this be labeled Prosecution Exhibit Eight for identification, an article that appeared in the American Journal of Psychology seven years ago concerning mental illness among members of the military. The article alleges higher rates of a wide range of mental disorders brought on by post-traumatic stress syndrome. Could you tell me who wrote this article, doctor?�

�I did, but��

�I didn�t ask for an essay, doctor. Tell me, could you tell me, Dr. Boulet, is the execution of terrorists psychologically healthy?�

�It can cause trauma.�

�So should allow traitors to run wild?�

Snyder leaned over to Merle. �Object.�

Merle shrugged.

Boulet licked her lips. �My job is to treat my patients, not to propose policy changes.�

�That�s not what you wrote seven years ago. You laid out that the military ought to cease the execution of non-violent terrorists for the mental stability of soldiers and the long-term good of society.�

�Objection!�

Everyone turned. Mama Borden stood in the visitor�s galley, shaking her fist. �There wasn’t even a question in that!�

Judge Appel banged his gavel. �Order! Madam, be seated, or I’ll remove you from my court. Major, proceed.�

Mama Borden sat down.

Hollerman said to Dr. Boulet, �Do you think we ought to weaken our military to make it more friendly to mental health?�

Dr. Boulet coughed. �I�m not here for a political debate.�

Snyder glared at Merle, who apparently thought he was posing for� painting.

Hollerman moved in inches from Boulet�s face. �We do not need to be soft on non-violent traitors. We need a tough military. Civilians can only sleep in their bed because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do them harm of any kind. Isn’t it true that you seek to undermine this?�

Snyder stood. �Objection! Badgering the witness, argumentative, and irrelevant.�

Judge Appel banged his gavel. �Specialist Snyder, sit down. You have representation.�

Snyder glared at Merle. �My apologies, your honor. I couldn’t tell.�

�Major Hollerman, I�m inclined to agree with Specialist Snyder regarding this line of questioning. Do you have any other questions?�

Hollerman sighed. �No, your honor.�

�Then I think it appropriate to adjourn until tomorrow.� The judge banged the gavel.

Continued Next Thursday

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The MP shook his head. �You can speak to him during visiting hours.�

�I�m in command of Specialist Snyder�s department. I need to discuss something with him regarding the case.�

Merle lifted his index finger. �If it�s about the case, we can go to a conference room.�

Kendal shook her head. �I�d like to speak with Snyder privately. Maybe we could step outside for a smoke.�

Merle said to the MP, �Take them to the smoking area and give them ten minutes. I�ll ensure that it�s cleared.�

�As you order, sir.� The MP led Snyder and Kendal out to the smoking area. A lone lieutenant dangled a cigarette. The Lieutenant put out his cigarette and headed in.

Snyder reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarillo. �I thought you�d quit.�

�After this, I�m doing a pack a day again. But I thought you only did cigars?�

�They don�t give us enough time to smoke a good cigar in here.�

�I�m going to tell the truth.�

Snyder puffed on the cigarillo. �About?�

�About me forcing Dread to promote you and that he asked me to �dance� for some of his friends to amuse them. When I didn�t, he stuck me with jobs that would never be assigned to a Master First Sergeant.�

�You�d be confessing to extortion. It�d be the end of your career.�

�It�d saved your life.�

�I�d be an accessory after the fact.�

�I�ll tell them I didn�t tell you. Dread�s credibility will be destroyed.�

�If you stay in, you�d lose your command of the Religious Intelligence specialists.�

�I got you in this.�

�I�m not going to let innocent people die because some desk jockey found out about their church. Please, let me handle this. I�m going to see Dr. Boulet. She�ll help us.�

�And what if you get sentenced to death.�

Snyder took a puff on his cigar. �Then I go to plan B.�

�What�s that?�

�I�m working on it.�

Continued Next Thursday

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Snyder walked into the courtroom in his khaki dress uniform and at sat down at the table next to Captain Merle.

Merle said, �I requested two enlisted men be on the jury. They might be more sympathetic than the officers.�

Snyder stared up at the jury table, spotted Baby Huey�s ugly mug, and glared at Merle.� �What are you trying to pull?�

�I don�t know what you mean.�

�Hewitt�s on the jury. That palooka beat me as part of my interrogation.�

��We�ll get that straightened out.� Merle� walked to the balding major at the prosecution table and spoke to him inaudibly.

The major glared at Colonel Dread. �What the hell do you and your friend think you�re trying to pull? I want that boy to hang, not to have this overturned because we had a ringer on the jury!�

Dread snarled. �Do you know what this Eagle means?�

�Yeah, that you�re subject to court martial. If you�re anything less than cooperative, you will be in need of Captain Merle�s services. Is that understood?�

Dread nodded.

Merle returned to the Defense table. �No problem. Hollerman will have Hewitt removed, and we�ll delay the case until tomorrow after some preliminary matters are taken care of.�

An elderly colonel entered the courtroom wearing a black robe.

The bailiff said, �All rise, the Court Martial of Specialist A. L. Snyder is now in session, Colonel Lance Appel presiding.�

The entire courtroom rose.

The judge took his seat.� �Be seated. Major Hollerman, Captain Merle, are you read to proceed?�

Major Hollerman said, �Your honor, if it pleases the court, we will not go to trial. An serious error was made. The prosecution just learned that Sergeant Hewitt was involved in the arrest and therefore would not be suitable to serve on the jury.�

Judge Appel said, �Sergeant Hewitt, is that correct?�

Sergeant Hewitt shrugged. �I examined him, but I don�t know if he�s guilty.�

Hollerman smiled. �While the Prosecution is sure Sergeant Hewitt is completely unbiased regarding the men he flogs, in the interest of the appearance of justice, we move Sergeant Hewitt be dismissed.�

Merle said, �Defense has no objection.�

Judge Appel said, �Sergeant Hewitt, you are dismissed.�

Hewitt stood and saluted.

Judge Appel said, �A replacement will be assigned. The trial will commence tomorrow.�

Major Hollerman said, �One thing further. On review of the accusation Colonel Dread submitted, the prosecution would like to move to dismiss the third item in the complaint.�

The judge, Merle, and the members of the jury turned to the third page of the complaint.

Hollerman said, �Given that Donovan the Steward encouraged enlisted soldiers to contact his helpline, contacting it could not be insubordination. The prosecution hence moves for the dismissal of count three.�

Merle smiled. �We have no objection.�

The judge said, �Count three is dismissed. If there�s no further business before this court, we�ll stand in recess until tomorrow morning.� Judge Appel slammed his gavel.

Snyder glared at Merle. �Why weren�t you making these motions?�

�Hollerman always does that.�

�So he can impress even the enlisted men of the jury with how fair he is.�

�Well, he is fair. And he does well with juries. He�s never lost a case.�

Cheery. �Has he always had you as his opponent?�

�Now look. I�ve won plenty of cases when not facing Hollerman. He�s very good, and he always makes sure everything is done properly and that there are no grounds for appeals.�

And I got the President of his fan club as my attorney. �Maybe I�ll represent myself.�

Merle chortled. �Anyone who represents themselves has a fool for a client. It�ll be tough to get you off, impossible without counsel.� Merle paused. �Do you know Dr. Boulet?�

�Yea, she�s gotten me on her couch.�

�We�re scheduled to meet with her in an hour. She�s a fantastic expert witness and could blow Hollerman�s case apart.�

Snyder perked up. �Thanks!�

An MP approached.

Snyder sighed. �Guess I get to go change into my jail uniform now.�

He and Merle followed the MP out of the courtroom and into the hall.

Sergeant Kendall approached them. She said, �Can I speak to the prisoner?�

Continued Next Thursday

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The guard came out and led Snyder back inside the stockade. �Your mother and your brother are here to see you.�

Snyder handed the cigars to the guard. �Could you watch these? My mother wouldn�t like it if she saw these.�

�Can I have one? I�ve always been curious what it�d be like to smoke a cigar.�

�If you�re curious, try a mild cigar. These babies are so strong they�ll make you sick.�

�Can I have one in case I do like the mild one?�

You mean to barter it. ��Sure, just keep �em out of sight from my mom.�

Snyder walked through the door. Mama Borden turned her face away. �Dear Lord, what did they do to you?� She ran over to Snyder and wrapped her arms around him.

Pain coursed through his body. He was in no condition for one of mama�s bear hugs.

Substitute Daddy, Cerulean said, �What�s the charge they�re holding you on?�

�Insubordination and treason.�

Mama Borden gasped and covered her mouth. �Treason? What for?�

�My Commanding Officer took me out to dinner to celebrate my promotion to Specialist. He then said he had something else to give me and led me outside the harem. When I refused to go in, he brought me back here and had me flogged by his ever-loving pal, Baby Huey.�

�And that�s when they charged you?�

�No, they let me go, and I sent a letter to the Steward complaining about the flogging. Well, it turned out he wasn�t telling the truth about being open to any soldier�s concern as by Tuesday, I was man-handled by Baby Huey and put under arrest.�

�I always said that Steward was nothin� but a flashy cracker.�

Exactly what I want to hear.� I told you so.

Cerulean said, �Did you get yourself a good lawyer?�

�He�s not optimistic about getting me off.�

�Can you get an attorney that is?�

�I don�t think so.�

�We�ll be there for you at the trial.�

Hopefully, they wouldn�t have to attend a hanging.

Continued Next Thursday

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The guard led Snyder out through the stockade�s back entrance. The sunlight felt awful salty on his wounds. A black stretch limo waited. The guard slapped on Snyder�s wrists a set of electromagnetic handcuffs. �If you travel more than a quarter of a mile, these things will provide nasty feedback.�

The guard opened the door to the limo. In-side sat an Italian in a white suit. Verducci was a few pounds heavier since they�d met two and a half years ago, but the syndicate kingpin was unmistakable.

�Kid, get in,� Verducci said. �Don�t worry. We won�t go far.�

The guard rubbed his hands together. �Ain�t you forgettin� something?�

Verducci pulled a 1 oz gold bar from his inner coat pocket and handed it to the guard.

Snyder got in the limo.

Verducci drove to a Smith�s grocery store across the street. �Do you remember me?�

�Me forget Nick Verducci, food smuggler and alleged racketeer?�

�Racketeer is such an unpleasant word, even alleged. Would you like a smoke?�

�Got a cigar?� Snyder pressed a couple of buttons on the side of the handcuffs. They pop-ped open and slid off.

Verducci raised his eyebrows. �How did you do that?�

�I saw the guard enter the code before he put the handcuffs on.�

Verducci laughed. �Kid, you�re a treat.� He reached in his glove compartment and pull-ed out a cigar box. �Let me cut the end.�

�Thanks, they stole my cigar cutter.�

Verducci cut the end off the cigar, handed it to Snyder, and then lit it. �I was impressed with the way you pulled off that job at the Bartender�s college. It was smooth. Now I hear through the grapevine that you�re in a little trouble because you didn�t act smooth.�

Snyder puffed on his cigar. �What are you talking about?�

�Kid, I know Major Hollerman. I paid his way through college. I got you a deal. Go into a harem girl. He�ll drop the treason charge, and you�ll get a month in the stockade for insubord-ination. Your pal Colonel Dread will be off to Moscow, Idaho. You�ll never have to see his mug again.�

�I am not sleeping with a child prostitute. Not even a teenager.�

Verducci laughed. �Then don�t. Watch holovision together. No one will be the wiser. You�re happy, Hollerman�s happy, I�m happy. It�s a win-win for everybody.�

Maybe that is the ticket.

�Kid, I know you�re trying to be noble, but these are the products of unwanted pregnancies we�re talking about. Rejects. No one would die for one of these girls.�

�I know one man. Take me back.�

�Your life, kid.� Verducci handed Snyder the cigar box. �These are expensive. You�ll have to cut them with your teeth, but be careful.�

�I will, thanks.� Snyder put the cigars in his pocket.

The car pulled up behind the stockade.

Verducci handcuffed Snyder again. �Enjoy the cigars in good health�while you can.�

Continued Next Thursday

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Snyder sat on his cell bunk in his gray prison uniform, with his hands clutching his rosary beads. �Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning is now and ever shall be, world without end, amen.�

He stowed the beads under his bunk.

A voice came from behind Snyder. �You got a visitor.�

Hopefully it was Father Bernard. Snyder stood at the cell door. The guard opened it and led Snyder down the hall. Inside the visiting room sat a man too young for the geeky executive ensemble of black polo shirt, khaki pants, and horn-rimmed glasses.

What�s Father Goodwin doing here?

The guard left.

Snyder asked, �Where�s Father Bernard?�

�Father Bernard has other people in the parish to attend to, not just you. He sent me.�

�I just thought��

�Oh, don�t think you�re the first Catholic to get thrown in jail. You made things hard on us by not changing your religion registration when you returned to the church.�

�That was Father Bernard�s idea.� Made it easier to use Snyder�s post in Army Intelligence to run interference on the Empire�s religious crackdowns.

�Be that as it may, I�d like to go ahead and take down your details. Tell me about why you�re here, etcetera.�

At the end of their interview, the priest closed the notebook. �We will ensure this is prayed about, and it appears you have behaved honorably. Was there anything further?�

Other than empathy, kindness, and humanity, you have it all covered.� �No.�

�Will you require another visit?�

�If Father Bernard can come, that would be great.�

�Mr. Snyder, beggars can�t be choosers. Good day.�

�Good day, Father.�

The business casual priest walked out. The guard entered. �Somebody wants to see you, and they don�t want to come inside.�

�Then they�ve got a problem.�

�Nothing they couldn�t solve.� The guard winked. �Come with me.�

Continued Next Thursday

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Half an hour later, his vamp attendant returned with a Private First Class MP. Blood no longer flowed from Snyder�s nose and the swelling had gone down in his left eye.

The wacko jerked on his left arm. �Your lawyer�s here to see you.�

The MP said, �This way, sir.�

Sir. Six days ago, he�d have been the same rank. Promoted, flogged, and court-martialed, all in six days. Had to be some kind of record.

Snyder staggered down a sterile gray hall to a sterile gray room. A clean-shaven thirty-something captain shook his hand. �My name is Captain Merle of the Judge Advocate General corps. I�ll be representing you before the board of Court Martial. Have a seat.�

�I�d rather stand, sir. It hurts to sit. Hurts to stand, too, but the pain is a little less.�

�At least under the Steward�s Imperial Discipline Reform Order, examinations must be at least three days apart and can�t happen more than twice a week.�

�Yea, heck of a progressive, the Steward.�

�I take it you�re not a fan?�

�I was his biggest until two days ago. But with 255 million fans, he probably won�t miss one. Now, Sir, could we get to my case.�

�Have you been advised of the charges?�

�Insubordination was what Dread said.�

�It�s two counts of insubordination and one count of treason.�

Snyder�s jaw dropped. �Treason? I haven�t done anything treacherous.�

�The prosecutor, Major Hollerman, has come up with a novel legal theory that I don�t buy, but let�s get to that in a moment.�

Snyder leaned on the table, inches from the face of the officer. �As treason carries a heavy penalty, I�d like to get into it now.�

�It won�t make sense out of context. Now get out of my personal space.�

Snyder withdrew. �Continue, sir.�

Merle consulted an antiquated, all-in-one tablet computer from Macintosh. �I see you were promoted to Specialist six days ago on the recommendation of a Colonel Morgan as well as a Sergeant Kendell. Colonel Dread did not initially support your promotion. Do you care to elaborate on why?�

�Would it help if we could show he�d been an abusive officer who�s had it out for me since I got here?�

�The burden of proof would be immense. If we were talking to a jury of enlisted men, it�d be an easy sell, but the Court Martial judges are high-ranking officers. If he hated you so much, why did he withdraw his objections?�

Because Sergeant Kendell threatened to expose Dread for an offense I can only assume was sexual due to her refusal to elaborate. �You�d have to ask Colonel Dread.�

Merle said, �Are you sure there�s not something you want to tell me?�

Could they know about Kendell and me under-mining the IBI�s efforts to attack Christians, that she got me promoted to help her more? �No, nothing.�

�Very well. It says here on last Friday, Colonel Dread took you to Texas Roadhouse to celebrate your promotion.�

Snyder snarled. �They got great steak, but don�t let the peanuts and bread ruin your appe-tite. Could we get to the part where somebody wants to hang me?�

�We are. Dread then took you to Madam Helena�s public harem. Dread ordered you to make free use of a fifteen-year-old harem girl named Natalia, who matched an expert analysis of your preferences. You refused to obey the order.� Merle scratched his head. �Would you care to tell me why?�

�I didn�t want to.�

Merle arched an eyebrow. �You want me to go in court and say that? Captain Merle, why didn�t Snyder obey an order. Why, he didn�t want to.� Merle stood and looked Snyder in the eye. �That�s not a sufficient answer for an in-subordination trial.�

�The order violated my morals. She�s a human being, and she had no choice. You can�t treat people like that.�

Merle dropped his Itablet. �Boy, get ready for the noose. I don�t care what crap you�ve been taught, harem girls aren�t people to any officer in this Army. For Herald�s sake, you might as well have refused to go into a public bathroom. They�re facilities, not people.�

�Funny. The official stance I�ve always heard is that non-persons are animals with a human genome. If I prefer sleeping with people acting of their own free will, that�s my business, or it ought to be. Are you able to represent that position, or do you need to withdraw?�

Merle breathed hard, straightened his hair, and picked up his Itablet. �My apologies, I got a little emotional, but don�t kid yourself. Every man on the panel will feel this way and every other lawyer available to you as well. Do you have any other defense?�

�She reminded me of my sisters.�

Merle stared at the report. �It says here that the girl in question was black.�

�I hardly have to explain my family his-tory to you, but to do it with a prostitute who reminds you of your sister would be awkward for anyone.�

Merle made a note. �Okay, we�ll look into that. How about health concerns?�

�That wasn�t on my mind, but a Vegas Harem girl will have plenty of diseases.�

�We�ll put that on there, too. Though the Imperial News Network did run a story on the safety of harem girls and the benefits of using public harems. Thanks to the Steward, you have a right to demand to see a harem girl�s vaccination records to verify that she�s clean.�

�You can run all kinds of baloney if you own the station. Everyone knows it�s cheaper to buy phony records than to actually give a girl all her shots.�

�Well, it�s in this incident that you�re being charged with insubordination for refusing the order and for treason.�

�Care to explain how it�s treason? I�ve been wondering about that.�

�The Emperor established public harems for the benefit of loyal citizens of the Empire. Major Hollerman believes all able-bodied, loyal citizens muse use public harems. To refuse to enter a public harem in his mind is an act of treason that must be punished with death.�

�But most public harems keep only female slaves and the few harem boys in the US also mainly service men. The women in the market prefer to sign a month-to-month lease of the conjugal rights of a male domestic who doesn�t work in the sex industry. On average, she keeps Rent-a-Hubby for five years. Does that make all straight women traitors?�

�Yes, actually, he does intend to create a captive market for public harems that service female heterosexuals.�

�So he�s a nut.�

�Idiosyncratic. Any ruling in his favor will have to exempt the owners of private harems in order to get this past the Steward, but Holler-man has made converts on the board. If he does prevail on the treason charge, it will trigger a radical paradigm shift in Imperial society.�

The only good side to that is that I wouldn�t be around to see it.

Continued Next Thursday

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Dread laughed. �All you have to do is ask for it to stop.�

Fat chance I�d give you that satisfaction.

Dread slapped the shock fork on Snyder�s back like a branding iron. Involuntary screams sizzled in a stream of curses. Dread was sup-posed to keep the torture device five feet away from him at all times..

A voice came from outside. �Colonel, his lawyer wants to see him.�

Dread powered off the shock fork. �I guess that will end our session. Get some healing balm, and we�ll see you back for another exam-ination in three days. Hewitt, clean this mess up off the floor.�

Hewitt yanked Snyder up from the floor. �Lookin� forward to our next meetin� pal.�

He wouldn�t be saying that in a fair fight.

Snyder stared at Sergeant Hewitt�s hulk-ing frame. Or maybe he would.�

�Inside the infirmary, a holoframe showed rotating images of bloodied and beaten prison-ers. The bald, five foot two, female doctor whistled. �Hewitt did a good job on you, Snyder. Sit. I�ll get you some healing balm.� She pulled a camera out from her desk and took a picture of Snyder.

�It�ll be added to the end.� She grabbed a mirror. �You want to take a look at yourself?�

He groaned. �Why would I?�

�You�re beautiful. A work of art. Barely recognizable as human.�

Snyder groaned. Great, a sicko. �You�re not going to sell that picture. You know that�s illegal without my release.�

�Oh, I�m a collector. I wouldn�t dream of selling it. Hewitt does the best work. Look at the way he cut your face. He doesn�t even use a knife. Just a boot.�

Snyder sighed. �Lady, could you just get the healing balm?�

�Sure. Personally, he works too much. I wish I could get him interested in me.�

Snyder laughed. �You wouldn�t survive an hour of his interest. Now. Healing balm.�

The wacko applied the oily gel to Snyder�s broken nose, ribs, and bruises and left. He leaned back as the balm tingled over his body. The nanites in the balm repaired injuries on a cellular level, but couldn�t correct dislocated bones. Barring plastic surgery, no one would ever call him good looking again.

Continued Next Thursday

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Colonel Dread stood thirty feet away, gun drawn. Snyder lay the body down.

That�s one way to resolve a moral dilemma.

He felt her lifeless chest. �She�s dead.�

Kendell put Dread in her sights. �Under the Imperial Army Conduct Reform Act, I place you under arrest for executing a prisoner.�

�Wrong. Article IX of the Emergency Act supersedes the Conduct Reform Act.�

�How was she an imminent threat to the Empire when she had surrendered?�

�As long as she breathes, she�s a threat to humanity. The risk of escape in even the most secure institution on the planet is too high.�

Yeah, that and you�re a psycho that gets his kicks pulling the trigger on people.

Dread paced. �The regrettable part is that she could�ve been an asset. I see great potential for the hybrid disease she dev-eloped. But we have her computer for that.�

Kendell coughed. �For the security of the Empire, I had to destroy it. I didn�t plan on you putting a hole through her chest.�

�I�ve already cited the regulation.�

�The Emergency Act doesn�t say to shoot first and ask questions later.�

Snyder raised a finger. �Excuse me, but no one knew about that virus before we got here. If that�s all you�re concerned with, you�re creating lemons from lemon-ade.�

Dread frowned. �Lemons?�

�We�ve just foiled an attempt to an-nihilate 90% of the population. You�re turning a career booster for all of us into a food fight over who cost the Empire a weapon no one other than us even knows about.�

Dread laughed. �What we need to do is move on. We can�t restore Rawlings� computer, nor resuscitate her. Let�s focus on what we�ve achieved rather than obsessing about what we haven�t done.�

Kendell smiled at Snyder, winking. �What an excellent idea, Sir.�

�We need to contact the IBI and have them arrest all who show up at Rawlings� gatherings. I trust that you retrieved that information.�

Snyder nodded. �Yes, sir.�

�I believe you know someone at the IBI.�

�It�d be better if you contacted them, sir. My contact doesn�t appreciate a private helping out the IBI.�

�Can�t say I blame him. I�ll order a cleanup crew to deal with the bodies. You two wait here. I�ll wait by Colonel Mor-gan�s body. I trust the stairs will not give me any problems?�

Snyder shook his head. �Her security was designed to keep people out, not keep them in.�

Dread headed down to the stairs and vanished out of sight.

Kendell�s breath rushed out of her. �Thank you, Snyder. I owe you.�

If I called in all the favors owed me, I�d be rich.

�You�re welcome.� Snyder reached in his backpack and pulled out a cigar and his lighter. He lit his cigar and took a puff.

�Hey, imperial smoking regulations still apply, private.�

�Sarge, that�s Imperial facilities and public places. Not the secret lair of a death cult.�

�Would you mind not smoking, then? I�m trying to quit and you�re tempting me.�

Snyder grinned. �Tempting as it is to offer you a cigar, I can go into one of the offices to finish my smoke, if you�d like.�

�Appreciated, but you should quit. It�s not good for you.�

�Thanks for the concern, Mother, but the occasional cigar isn�t a health risk. And on a private�s salary, with the tax, I can barely afford to be an occasional smoker.�

Besides, if I keep this line of work up, dying of old age isn�t going to be an option, anyway.

Continued Next Thursday

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They reached the hall of knives. Ken-dell turned to Rawlings. �Deactivate the booby trap. I�ll go through first.�

Rawlings pressed a series of buttons by the panel. The knives retracted. �Done.�

Kendell removed her recorder and flicked it on. �The prisoner deactivated the booby trap. I will go first, followed by the prisoner and then Private Snyder. If I do not make it through this, private, you are under orders to kill her under the Imperial Army Emergency Act.�

Kendell tossed the recorder to Snyder.

Rawlings said, �Hold on, I don�t be-lieve I�ve fully deactivated it.�

Kendell smiled. �Do tell.�

Rawlings pressed more buttons. �You can go through now Sergeant.�

�Thank you.� Kendell walked through the passage. Snyder followed Rawlings through.

Rawlings sneered. �Snyder? I heard about your efforts in Boise. When the Empire brings me on, I�m going to unleash my campaign on Boise first.�

Snyder followed the women out of the hall of knives, grim-faced. Why did I have to pick now to get religious? I pull the trigger on her and its cold blooded murder. I don�t even have the authority to kill her. She�s going to try and partner with my boss.

Three shots rang through the air.

Blood splattered from Rawlings� back and her throat, before her brains exploded in Snyder�s face. The body fell into Snyder�s arms. Tremors over took him. The bullets could have�should have�hit him as well.

Continued Next Thursday

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Snyder sat at the workstation and located files with the names of all the leaders Rawlings was going to contact and an outline of her plan. He transferred onto his poc-ket computer every relevant file besides the virus formula. �Done.�

Kendell pulled an audio recorder from her pocket and recited the date. �We are examining the computer of Dr. Toyota Rawlings.�

Rawlings snickered. �Wow, that sur-vived your fall.�

Kendell snarled. �Wide record mode. Dr. Rawlings, we�ve copied relevant materials from your computer in accordance with the Imperial Anti-Crime Decree of 72 YE. Do you have any exculpatory material that you would like us to copy as well?�

�Preserve my manifesto, �The plague of man.� It�s a multimedia presentation.�

��Private, allow the suspect�s request.�

�Yes, Sergeant.�

Snyder found it in the masterpiece folder and copied it over. A red light flashed on his pocket computer.� �For the record, I note a virus was on the file, but the file has been cleansed.�

Kendell said, �It is so noted. Have you completed the suspect�s request?�

�Yes, Ma�am.�

�Let the record reflect all relevant data has been captured. End of log.� Kendell pushed a button. �Snyder, permanently delete all files on her computer.�

�Sarge, permanent deletion is imposs-ible without the right equipment.�

Kendell reached in Snyder�s bag. �Do the best you can and then I�ll do my part. Where�s the hard drive?�

�Right under the desk.�

Kendell nodded. �Good.�

Snyder formatted the hard drive.

�Up.� Kendell affixed a charge to the side of the workstation.

�What are you doing, Sarge?�

�A permanent deletion. We�ve got thirty seconds, let�s get out of here!�

Snyder, Kendell, and Rawlings raced out of the room. All three hit floor, as the explosion rocked the compound.

�Dread should hear that.� Kendell stood and pointed her gun at Rawlings. �Up. You too, Snyder.�

This lady�s crazy. �Sarge, did you hit your head when you came down?�

Rawlings laughed. �You don�t know why she�s doing this, do you?�

They walked into a hallway full of pipes, ahead of the line of knives.

Rawlings said, �She doesn�t want the virus to fall into the hands of your precious empire. She knows what Herald would do with it.�

Kendell frowned. �All right, move.�

�I�m moving, toots. Herald uses a bazooka to kill a fly. Herald would love to send a few souls dedicated to solving the human problem to solve his Christian problem in areas where they�re a sizeable and annoying minority. He�d get to blame it on the Christians to boot.�

Snyder gaped. Rawlings made sense, too much sense.

�Oh, and don�t forget, as many do, Gaia is the Most High�s consort. Her de-votees are due�s paying, loyal members of the United Church of Herald. I will help his avatar. I might not get to reduce the human population by 90% now, but even a quarter will make a difference. We won�t go to the gallows. Herald will have custody of a woman who�s memorized her formula for an unstoppable biological weapon and my army of willing carriers.�

Kendell readied her rifle. �Maybe I won�t let you get that far.�

Snyder gasped. �Sarge, don�t you see all these pipes? You fire into one of them and you provide her a chance to get away.�

Kendell sighed. �Yeah, and I�m no murderer.�

Rawlings shrugged. �You could just let me go. I�m not going to be able to get in touch with my people before you get the IBI out there. I�ll have to start from scratch.�

�I have my duty. Move it, Doc�

Continued Next Thursday

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Snyder tapped his chin. A slight frame like Rawlings could get through the maze of knives. Where�s Beanpole when you need him?

Snyder removed his boot and pulled the acid from the false bottom. �I got an idea.� Snyder put the acid in his Colt�s barrel. He aimed for the ceiling. God, please, this has to work. He fired. The bullet ripped through the roof.

Snyder put his boot back on. �Wait a minute.� He stared at his watch for what felt like an hour. �Sarge, give me a boost.�

Kendell boosted Snyder up.

At Snyder�s impact, the weakened ceiling panel gave way. Sunlight peaked through the opening. Snyder pulled him-self onto the roof.

Kendell said, �Snyder, set the charge. I�ll throw a grappling hook up.�

Snyder walked as if making giant steps in a game of Mother May I. Kendell made it onto the roof as he approached within ten feet of the Communications room. Snyder said, �Watch your step.�

Kendell smirked. �Thanks, I�d fall to my death without your helpful advice.�

Snyder took five more giant steps. �Sarge, I�m over the communications room.�

�Plant your charges and get back.�

Snyder set the charges to thirty seconds, took six steps back, and ducked.

The charge went off. Snyder and Kendell ran to the hole. Snyder jumped through the hole, gun drawn, and landed on his feet.�

Rawlings was typing on a work-station like there was no tomorrow.

Snyder fired his Colt in the air.

Rawlings stopped typing.

Snyder smiled. �Aw, I thought you were in a hurry to eliminate your carbon footprint? I forgot, a bullet to the brain isn�t your preferred method. Yours in-volves classical music as you drift off to Nirvana. A painful death you leave for your brainwashed minions or the average man on the street. Get your hands up and back away from the console.�

Kendell rappelled in and glared at Snyder. �The standard procedure is to rappel down, not jump like you�re the Human Fly.�

Snyder said, �It caught her off guard.�

�Yeah, she wasn�t expecting some-thing so dangerous and foolhardy.�

�Sarge, with all due respect, are you my mother?�

Kendell winced like he�d slapped her. �No, but maybe I could have been.�

Huh? Mama Borden was in her six-ties, and his egg donor would be in her forties, if she hadn�t ODed yet.

Sergeant Kendell trained her riffle on Rawlings. �All right, sister, on the ground, face down, now.�

Rawlings obeyed. Kendell searched her and removed a couple items. �Snyder, take the computer. Copy important files over. Anything that relates to the crime, but doesn�t have any recipes or formulas for her virus.�

�Shouldn�t we radio Dread?�

Kendell ripped the radio off Snyder�s belt and jumped on it. She ripped her own off and did the same. �Sorry, our radios were damaged when we went through the roof. As the NCO, I had to make the best judgments I could.� Her gaze narrowed at Snyder, her gun drawn. �Do we understand one another?�

What�s going on here? �Yes, Sarge.�

Continued Next Thursday

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�Two, one,� Kendell said from the grate.

Dread hit the floor as the grate flew off the air duct and into the glass, shattering it. Dread and Snyder stood. Kendell came out of the air duct, smiling.

She saluted. �Sergeant Kendell report-ing, sir!�

Snyder set a charge on the door.

Dread asked, �How?�

Kendell shrugged. �You wouldn�t believe how many explosive materials you can find in their kitchen.�

Snyder sealed the charge he�d put on the door and set the timer to twenty seconds. �Sir, we need to stand back.�

Gas wafted through the ventilator.

Dread grimaced. �She figured out we escaped.�

Good job, Colonel Obvious. Snyder sucked in a breath and held it, gesturing for Kendell and Dread to do likewise.

The charge detonated and broke the door�s lock. Snyder and Dread grabbed their revolvers, and all three charged out.

Dread called back, �I�ll head north, you two head south.�

Snyder closed his eyes, reviewing the blue print in his mind. �Sarge, I know where she is.�

�How?�

�Trust me, Sarge. We got to hurry.�

�You got yourself captured last time.�

�She probably has set a trap between here and the communications room, yeah.�

�Where�s that?�

Snyder pointed. �Sixty feet through that hallway, on the left.�

Kendell reached in her pocket, pulled out a tennis ball, and threw it down the hallway.

A series of knives came out from the wall, the floor and ceiling.�

Continued Next Thursday

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Snyder glanced over his shoulder. �Dread, what about Morgan?�

Dread bowed his head. �They got him.�

Nice act. You�re as sorry as you would be if I�d bought it. But there�s no time. �Sir, I recommend we put aside our differences for now and find a way out.�

�Private, I�ll accept that recommendation because I have no choice. Do you have a plan?�

�No, I have a lighter. If you can get a hand loose, you could set the ropes on fire. We could break them when they get hot enough.�

�I have a better idea. I can get both hands free, if you give me a few minutes, and we can skip the third degree burns.�

�Good plan, sir.�

Dread wiggled, loosening the ropes nano-meter by nanometer.

Kendell�s clanging in the air duct redounded.

Dread freed his hands and untied Snyder. �My uncle was an escape artist. He raised me. He was very successful. Left me a nice estate after I terminated him.�

Snyder grimaced. Dread would per-petrate the same evil his egg donor did to Grandma.

Dread folded his arms. �Now, wise guy, how are you going to get us out of here?�

�Watch.� Snyder removed his boot and opened the false compartment in the bottom with a small knife, a small glass cutter, a lock pick, and a small vile of acid.

�Where�d you get that boot?�

�Army Intelligence catalog.�

�There�s an Army Intelligence cata-log?�

�Yeah, mainly for field agents. This can come in pretty handy.�

Dread whistled. �I�d take it over a Swiss Army knife.�

Snyder put the glass cutter to the door and made a circular motion, cutting a wide hole in the glass. Snyder pushed the glass through the hole. It shattered on the floor.

�Smooth, private. Good thing the fruitcake didn�t take away our boots.�

Snyder and Dread skipped across the glass to where Rawlings had left Snyder�s backpack and their weapons.

Dread said, �Snyder, set the charge.�

�Sir, with all due respect, we need to get Sergeant Kendell out first.�

�No, we have to get out of here before Dr. Fruitcake learns of our escape and pumps this whole facility full of gas.�

�Sir, the Army Field manual says on page 375, �Leave no soldier behind.��

�The law now is survival of the fittest, not survival of the fattest.�

A cry came from the air duct. �Stand clear! Fire in the whole in three . . .�

Snyder hit the floor. �Duck.�

Continued Next Thursday

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The male pulled on the rope. �It�s tight.�

Outside the glass case, a slender wo-man with long brown hair pressed a button. �Your task is complete. You have fulfilled your role in bringing about the reduction of the population. You may reduce yourself.�

The male guard pulled his gun.

�Please do that downstairs. It�s loud.�

The guards both began to leave.

Dread coughed. �Reduce yourself?�

�Unlike the selfish sinners who prize their own lives over the innocent, all faithful servants of Gaia get to choose how we die. He prefers a bullet to the brain. I prescribed an overdose of sleeping pills to his mate. She�ll go to their room, turn on relaxing music, lie down, and quietly drift off the Earth.�

�I assume you�re Dr. Rawlings.�

Rawlings nodded. �That�s right.�

�What are you going to do to us?�

�I prefer company. Once I give Gaia�s final command to her faithful, we die together. Soft classical music playing while Carbon Monoxide floats into the room.�

Is it just me, or is a coo coo clock chiming? �What about the rest of the world?�

�Their due fate for callously ignoring the impact they have on the Earth. They must face the consequences. I have an army with a variety of missions. Some will release fertility-reducing chemicals into the water supply. Others will carry bombs to blow up breeders.�

Dread growled. �You fundamentalists all disgust me.�

Rawlings entered the glass door and pistol whipped Dread. �They object be-cause breeders destroy human life. Gaia objects because they sustain it. Non-persons have carbon footprints, and the organs of Products of Conception feed Gaia�s cancer�us. We must die to save her, and I will see she is obeyed. I�ve created a bubonic plague-small pox hybrid that cannot be cured. Several of Gaia�s faithful will sacrifice the joy of choosing their deaths to decimate the human infestation in large urban areas.�

Billions will die. This whacko lady could topple the Empire in a matter of days.

Dread asked, �So why aren�t you staying around to see your triumph? I�d want to be the last man to die in your position, to ensure all goes according to plan.�

Snyder laughed. �Sir, when that virus hits, she�s going to be the most wanted person in the world. She has the best chance of coming with a cure, and with the entire world dying, the IBI would stop at nothing to find her and make her do their bidding. With her dead, it�ll take years to find a cure. By which point it�ll be too late.�

Rawlings smiled. �The cancerous tumor should shrink by ninety percent, to 600 million humans. The collapse of civil-ization will restore the survivors to har-mony with Gaia.�

Snyder snorted. �What I don�t under-stand is why you�re telling us all your glorious plans like a Matinee villain.�

Dread chortled. �Why else? A lot of work went into this, and few even know what�s about to happen. She won�t be alive to see her infamy. We�re her only shot.�

Rawlings beamed as if Dread were her star pupil. �You understand me, Colonel. Of course, there�s one question you haven�t asked: where is your beloved sergeant?�

I was kind of hoping you�d overlooked her.

Klang! Klang!

Rawlings smiled. �I believe that�s her now, clambering up the air duct.�

Klang! Klang!

Dread sighed. �Exactly what I�d ex-pect of Large Marge Kendell. As subtle as a rhinoceros in a coffee house.�

Klang! Klang!

Rawlings shrugged. �I must give her some credit. She figured out the elevator was booby trapped, knew she couldn�t take the stairs after what happened to Snyder, and is coming to the rescue the only way she can think of.�

Dread snickered. �I bet she stopped to get a double-decker sandwich first.�

That�s enough. Snyder jabbed an elbow into Dread, who screamed in pain.

Snyder said, �Sorry, sir. Muscle spasm.�

Rawlings laughed. �Men, so childlike. It�s quite futile regardless. The grates are titanium, and we found the backpack with the explosive on Private Snyder. She has no prayer of getting through. The other end of the duct has been sealed, so she can�t escape. Now that�s all taken care of, I can relax and edit my speech.�

Rawlings left the room.

The door locked behind her.

Continued Next Thursday

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Colonel Morgan fired a round into the eco-terrorist. The guard crumpled.

�Nice kill,� Dread said. �There shouldn�t be more than four live guards down here now, along with our mad scientist.�

Colonel Morgan said, �Or upstairs. I wish they�d stop sneaking up on us so I can capture one. I don�t quite have Snyder�s memory to find my way around. Speaking of him, Dread, I�d like to know why he hasn�t been promoted.�

�Do you really want to discuss personnel matters right now?�

�Seems as good a time as any.�

�He�s a juvenile delinquent. He re-mains a private until I have sufficient evidence to rid Intelligence of a security risk.�

�I see. Well, I�ve put in a recommendation with the personnel board to promote Snyder to Specialist. I expect that to go through with the full support of his commanding officer.�

Dread laughed. �Not even you can make me do that. Personnel decisions are mine.�

�Then I have no choice but to inform the Steward you�re a fraud, which will lead to your disgrace, court martial, and infamy.�

Dread faked incredulity in the con-vincing way only sociopaths can. �What are you talking about, sir?�

�Check to the east and the west before we proceed.�

Dread glanced around the maze�s corner and turned back. �It�s clear, sir.�

�It�s curious. When Dimitrov�s mis-deeds were uncovered� both Snyder�s cap-tain and his row supervisor were promoted. His file notes the change in his reporting status.�

Dread proceeded. �Am I not allowed to recommend promotions?�

Morgan followed. �Certainly, but it�s quite curious that you promoted his row supervisor two ranks and only seven months after his last promotion. Tell me, who else have you heard of going from Private First Class to Staff Sergeant in nine months?�

The sickly light bird stared blankly.

Morgan smiled. �Why so surprised? That�s normally checked. Unless of course you�re in too much of a hurry to cut a deal to gain someone�s silence.�

Dread laughed. �All that from a per-sonnel file? Sir, you make Sherlock Holmes look simple. What am I supposedly covering up?�

�Snyder found Dimitrov�s diary.�

�That punk! He�s a hate criminal from JD mistakenly tossed into Intelligence by someone who lacked any.�

�Dread, head to the north end of the building.�

The two turned.

Morgan continued, �I must disagree. In my estimation, Snyder has well proven the courts right to give him a second chance.�

�This was pure luck. He�s never contributed anything of any significance.�

�Really?� Morgan laughed. �Then how do you explain the wilderness training with a paid leave of absence that you gave him? That also coincided with the discovery.�

Dread stood speechless.

�I know the program you sent him on. It costs $9,000. It�s not something that you send all your men through, so it must have been a reward. But you didn�t want anyone to know you were rewarding him so you could take all the credit. Really stupid, Dread. You would have gotten a lot of credit as the commanding officer anyway, but you had a need to deny him. You�ve got a chip on your shoulder regarding that kid and have put your entire career at risk over it.�

�You think you�ve got me, don�t you?�

�Unless you explain the wilderness trip, a board of inquiry would agree. Dread, let�s turn down this corridor.�

The two turned right.

�Dread, at minimum, discovery will mean demotion and transfer to a post far less pleasing than the noncombatant post your temper has already earned you. But it�s worse than that because you lied to the Steward, and this would reflect poorly on him. That�s why I�m willing to offer you a deal. For Donovan�s sake.�

Dread sneered. �So I promote Snyder to Specialist and all is forgotten?�

�Not quite. Snyder has a real career ahead of him. He would make an excellent member of the Army Intelligence Liaison core. I expect to see him promoted to Ser-geant within a year, and then within a year and a half to join the Liaison core as a Warrant Officer.�

�Sir, I won�t be at Chic Hecht by then.�

�Because you�d like a battalion com-mand by then? Believe me, Dread, waiting two and a half years for a full bird beats what�ll happen if I blow the whistle.�

Dread pointed his gun at Morgan�s chest.

Morgan laughed. �Brilliant! The au-topsy will find the bullet was fired from your gun.�

�Why would anyone order an autopsy on a combat mission?�

�My will dictates, whenever I die, there is to be an autopsy.�

Dread holstered his weapon. �You seem to be a man who makes enemies.�

�I know how to deal with them. Now, let�s get back to the matter at hand.�

A male and a female guard emerged from behind a wall. Morgan and Dread fired at them, and they crumpled to the ground.�

Dread said, �Let me check the bodies and see if there are any clues.�

Morgan moved ahead. �I�ll make sure no one else is coming after them.�

Silence ticked by. �Find anything?�

�Yes,� Dread said behind him. �A solution to my problem.�

A bullet sizzled through Morgan�s back. Morgan turned.

Dread put the gun in the hand of the dead ecoterrorist. �Ivan had the right idea with your kind. It will be a pleasure to watch you die.�

Morgan spat blood. �Cracker.�

�Freeze!� an eco-terrorist screamed.

Morgan laughed. �You idiot, Dread.�

Continued Next Thursday

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Snyder marched through Lolo National Forest with Kendell, Morgan, and Dread.

Morgan said, �Your wilderness training has come in handy, Snyder. Dread, I have to compliment you. How many Army Intelligence officers have gone through this training?�

Dread coughed. �Snyder, how far until we make it to this compound?�

Snyder smirked. �Sir, we should be right on top of it.�

Morgan frowned.� �You didn�t answer my question, Dread.�

�None, sir,� Dread mumbled.

�Interesting.�

Snyder stared at his person detector. The official story insisted the device tracked traces of DNA, but it actually received tran-smissions from the ICA chips implanted in the wrists of everyone but Christians and terrorists, which the Empire considered re-dundant. A light came on, indicating the presence of a human being within 300 yards.

Snyder said, �Sir, we getting close. Maintain silence.�

They crept on. The detector picked up ten live persons and six hundred recently deceased. The ICA chip transmitted when vital signs had ceased for up to thirty days to make it easy to locate bodies in a disaster. Snyder stared ahead at the wire fence surrounding the compound.

Kendell wrinkled her nose. �What�s with all the dead bodies?�

Snyder grimaced. �Today�s endgame. All but those needed to see this through have either killed themselves, or were killed one.�

Kendell shook her head.

Dread chortled. �On the bright side, this will help the retirement trust fund.�

Everyone stared at Dread.

He shook his head. �Death is a fact of life. You figure what advantage to make of it.�

Morgan said, �Right now, I want to figure out how to get over that fence.�

Snyder laughed. �That�s what she wants, sir. Look at the grass around the compound. It�s not been disturbed in months, but surely she has been in and out of that place a dozen times. My gut says, even if you can get over that fence, you�ll get killed by what she�s got hidden on the other side. It�s a booby trap. She�s coming in underground.�

�Then we need to find the tunnel.�

�Actually, our builder friend is in the habit of storing blueprints on his network drive. If I don�t miss my guess, a hundred yards west of here, we can break through without compromising the integrity of the tunnel.�

�Lead the way, private.� Morgan added in a whisper, �Snyder, did you dis-cover Dimitrov�s treachery?�

Snyder nodded. How had this guy figured it out?

�That�s what I thought.�

After a hundred yards, Dread said, �Okay, Snyder, Kendell, start digging.�

Morgan glared. �Dread, we brought three shovels. Dig.�

Dread glowered. �Yes, sir!�

In fifteen minutes, the three dug through three feet of dirt to the under-ground passage. Morgan slapped Snyder�s back. �Excellent work, private. Now hurry. Have your weapons ready to fire.�

Snyder pressed a button and switch-ed his riffle to targeting mode. He clutched his Colt. Dread had ordered manual weapons replaced with auto fire weapons, but Snyder wouldn�t be caught with a useless gun in an EMP attack.

Inside the tunnel, Snyder reached in his backpack and pulled out a converted Taser. �What�s that?� Morgan asked. �Looks like one of those old Tasers.�

Dread whistled. �I loved those before they came out with shock forks.�

Snyder said, �It detects electrical activity� and can overload electric circuits. If we spot any sensor, I can take it out.�

Morgan asked, �Where�d you get it?�

Snyder swallowed. �It�s a prototype someone at the listening post was develop-ing.� They didn�t need to know that some-one was him. If the Army ever realized all he was truly capable of, his life would never be his own.

Colonel Dread cleared his throat. �Snyder, why don�t you lead the way then?�

Yeah, so I can get �accidentally shot� by your friendly fire.

�Sir, I�d like you by my side.�

Dread frowned. �You will obey��

Morgan shoved Dread. �Get beside him.�

Dread snarled. �Very well.�

�Excuse me, would you like to make a revision to that statement?�

�Very well.� Dread swallowed. �Sir.�

�Better; lead the way.�

The four walked two hundred feet. The detector beeped to indicate electric activity was within fifty feet. Snyder said, �Okay everybody, we�re close to something.�

They slowed to a snail�s pace.

Forty feet ahead, Snyder�s prototype exposed black marks on the wall. �Two censors. I�ll take them out.�

Dread said, �It�s more than that. Look up.�

Snyder looked up and sneered. �Just great! A security camera.�

�We take out that camera, and we have to be prepared for someone to come out.�

�We don�t really have a choice, sir.�

They moved closer. Once within ten feet, Snyder fired the beam.

Dread said, �Now, let�s hurry.�

Snyder shook his head. �Sir, the blue-print showed several pits in the ground that were to be filled later. Most likely booby traps.�

�Then why didn�t you bring the blue-print so we�d know where they were?�

Because I don�t need the blueprint, you nitwit. I�ve got a photographic memory. �I can navigate, but we must be careful. Everyone follow me.�

Snyder made his way through the danger area, avoiding the traps.

The electric activity detector beeped.

Kendell asked, �More sensors?�

�No, it�s moving.� Snyder raised his rifle.

A guard came around the corner.

Snyder pressed his rifle�s targeting button. Before the guard could even fire, the four of them had embedded eight bullets in his chest.

Snyder robbed the guard�s body of his gun and put it in his backpack. �Okay, move this way to the door.� They bustled along the same zig zag the guard had taken to get to them and reached a large steel door.

Snyder put his backpack down and pulled out an explosive. �Everybody, back up. Stand ready to fire.�

He placed the explosive. The door blasted open. Two guards behind it fell like paper dolls. Snyder stared around the chamber. Death hung in the air, wafting from the bodies of the recent mass suicide.

Morgan said, �Where do we need to go?�

�Our mad scientist will either be upstairs at ground level or down in the labyrinth bunker in the sub-basement.�

�Dread, we�ll take downstairs. Snyder and Kendell will take upstairs. Be careful everyone.�

Snyder grunted. �Let�s take the elevator.�

Kendell curled her nose. �No way. The up button�s too clean. Nobody�s been using it. Let�s take the stairs.��

Snyder opened the door to the stair-well and went in. At a noise behind him, Snyder turned. �Sarge?�

Kendell lay on the ground just out-side the door. Snyder ran back. In the door, electricity coursed through him. He screamed and fell into pitch black fire.

Continued Next Thursday

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Sitting on his bunk, Snyder swallowed the last bite of his grits.

Kendell looked down at her watch. �Only ten more minutes until my relief gets here.�

Where was Colonel Morgan? They didn�t have much time.�

The door opened.

Colonel Morgan entered with Colonel Dread walking behind him.

Snyder and Kendell stood at attention.

Dread said, �Sergeant, open the door.�

Kendell unlocked the cell. Snyder came out. Morgan asked, �What did you learn?�

�I�ve figured out who is behind end-game. Dr. Toyota Rawlings has surreptiti-ously set up a compound in the Lolo Na-tional Forest.�

Dread frowned. �Where? �

�That�s the problem. She blindfolded the builder and his crew. In his personal diary, he figured, based on how far they�d driven, they were in the Lolo National Forest, though not close to the main road.�

�Did you check satellite images?�

Snyder laughed. Incompetent had been an understatement. �Sir, to avoid causing the wild life undue stress at the thought of a man-made object being stationed in space above them, we can�t get close enough to the wilderness to get a decent shot of the terrorists hiding there. Best I can tell, the camp is within a five mile radius, somewhere deep within the forest.�

�I�ll talk to Colonel Briggs. He�ll locate and launch a full scale attack on the compound.�

A full scale war would definitely upset the wildlife and get them all court-martialed. �Sir, Dr. Rawlings prepared that place for a full scale onslaught. A response that�s too large will lead to us getting bogged down while she gets away, or sends her doomsday message by remote.�

�What would you suggest?�

�A small strike force. It�ll be harder for her to detect and easier to hide from the eco-nuts.� Donovan�s allegiance there was a serious flaw, but no hero could be perfect.

Morgan tapped his chin. �I believe four would be about right. I�ll have a copter ready in fifteen to take us to Missoula. You three, be there in full battle gear, including body armor.�

Dread cleared his throat. �Sir, I have important meeting and such a delicate situation necessitates an Army Intelligence operation and Army Intelligence choosing the personnel, and I would hardly think it appropriate��

Morgan frowned. �If Army Intelli-gence had wanted to take the lead, you shouldn�t have had your head stuck in a rule book. We don�t have time for a bunch of briefings. Everyone here already under-stands what�s going on. I say that�s good enough. I�ll call Colonel Briggs, let �em know we�re coming. He�ll get us a good ve-hicle. Oh, and Snyder, I want the personnel files of everyone on this mission.�

Colonel Morgan headed upstairs with Colonel Dread.

Sergeant Kendell unlocked Snyder�s cell. �Is Morgan always like that?�

�Nah, from the reports I�ve read, he can get kind of pushy.�

Continued Next Thursday

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Colonel Morgan stood outside of Colonel Dread�s door. It�d be Lieutenant Dread by the time he was through. Dread was still in bed at 0700 hours, the sign of an undisciplined officer. Morgan knocked. Loud snoring answered.

He knocked again. �Colonel Dread!�

A groan emitted behind the door.

�Colonel Dread!�

Silence.

Morgan kicked open the door.

Dread covered himself with a sheet and sat up. �Who the blazes are you?�

�Colonel Morgan of Moscow, Idaho.� He added to the light bird, �A full bird.�

Dread groaned. �Sir, you�ll pardon me if I don�t stand to salute.�

�That infraction I can forgive, but it�s the only one. Are all your people asleep?�

�No, sir. Everyone else was up at 0600.�

�Indeed, everyone in this army was up at 0600, except for you.�

�Sir, what brings you here?�

�Private A. L. Snyder provided me vital information and you put him in the stockade.�

�He violated regulations.�

�So you are concerned if your under-lings obey regulations? In this case, he did what was necessary, and I�m demanding his release.�

�Begging your pardon, sir, but you don�t have jurisdiction. My direct line of command is General Wolfe, and he hasn�t ordered me to release the prisoner. And while you do outrank me, I would point out that I have special status as an Imperial hero.�

Morgan smirked. �Really?�

�I uncovered evidence of Ivan�s treachery that vindicated his just execution in the eyes of the public.�

�That�s nice. Six years ago, I was a captain serving in the African theater and saved the life of a young man under my command. I was rewarded with a promo-tion to Colonel.�

�So what?�

Morgan laughed. �I can call him for you. I�ve got his personal number on my speed dial under D. He�s always willing to chat, though he gets grumpy if I call this time of the morning. He takes his personal time now and doesn�t like to be interrupted.�

�Are you implying the boy you saved was Donovan the Steward?�

�That it was, Colonel. Do you want me to call him?�

Dread sighed. �Let�s get Snyder.�

�Glad you see it my way, Colonel.�

�One thing, Colonel. It�s confusing to call each other Colonel. We�re very close in rank, how about we call each other by last names?�

�I�ll meet you half way. I�ll call you Dread. You can call me sir.�

Dread grunted. �Yes, sir.�

Continued Next Thursday

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After Morgan closed the HV connect-ion, Kendell turned to Snyder and frowned. �What was that all about?�

Something I would rather not explain.

�Why are we taking orders from a Colonel in Idaho? How are you even communicating?�

Snyder sighed. �I�m on to something big. Thousands, if not millions of lives are at stake and Colonel Morgan is helping me save them. As to the communication, it was the same way I was playing guitar.�

Kendell said, �What time is it?�

�About 0315.�

She repeated the time quite loudly. �It was just 2030. How did�you drugged me. You little weasel, you drugged me. You ought to be fast asleep with that codeine, but you�re not because you switched cups when I wasn�t looking.�

�Look, I�m sorry. I needed to access my files and didn�t think you�d let me.�

�I shouldn�t have. Like I shouldn�t have let you play a holo guitar. But I would have. Dread doesn�t know the first thing about intelligence and carries a lot of petty grudges. That�s why I�m here on guard duty.�

�What did you do?�

�He wanted me to entertain him and I told him no. He�s hated me ever since. Anyway, the Colonel said for you to get some rest, and I think I�ll get mine back at my quarters. Where�s Sergeant Monroe? She�s usually on time.�

�Your relief is Sergeant Mezzner at 0800.�

�So I�m stuck here for the next five hours.�

�On the bright side, you only have to work half a day, and you get to sleep in.�

�Don�t try to sound like you�re doing me a favor.�

�Like you said, Dread doesn�t know squat about intelligence, and there could be millions of lives at stake.�

�Remember, he told you to get some rest.�

�The operative word is �some.� I�ve got more to piece together before morn-ing. I figure at 0500, I�ll be able to get a couple hours sleep before Colonel Morgan gets here.�

�You need more than two hours sleep.�

�With all due respect, Sarge, you�re not my mother.�

Kendell stepped back as if he�d slapped her. �No, I�m not anyone�s mother. I�m going back to sleep. Wake me at 0500.�

�Yes, Sergeant.�

Now to pinpoint their exact location.

�Snyder.�

�Yeah, Sarge?�

�I didn�t really have a date tonight.�

�Night, sarge.�

Continued Next Thursday

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Colonel Morgan awoke to tapping on his door. He groaned. Dear Lord, what is it at this hour? The clock by his bed read 03:09.

Colonel Morgan said, �Who is it?�

�Sir, Corporal Perry, sir. There�s a priority red message from Army Intelli-gence.�

�I�ll take it. Feed it into my HV.�

Private Snyder appeared in his bedroom window inside what looked like the stockade.

Colonel Morgan frowned. �Private, what are you doing on this frequency? Priority red messages may only be sent by officers.�

�Sir, my apologies. Were you aware the information you had me send you could only be released by the commanding Colonel?�

�I asked Intelligence and was denied. I have a responsibility to protect Latah County. I can�t waste precious time jump-ing through bureaucratic hoops.�

�I feel the same way about using the Red frequency.�

�Fair enough. By the way, Private, is that the stockade?�

�Sir, this is where honoring your request got me, and I need you to get me out. I�ve uncoded the last part of Oerz. End game is tonight. And I can�t stop it from in here.�

�What�s going to happen?�

�Oerz�s endgame asks the player to buy certain items. I haven�t been able to identify the purpose of each, but I can positively identify that a couple chemicals are key explosives. The rest I�m having the computer decode.�

�Snyder,� said a dazed female voice behind Snyder. �What�s going on?�

Colonel Morgan asked, �Who is that?�

�Oh,� Snyder said, �Get up, Sarge, it�s Colonel Morgan.�

�Colonel Morgan? Who�s he?� A female master first sergeant pushed up off the floor, her eyes drooping, with her short blonde hair in a permanent.

Colonel Morgan frowned. �You okay, Sergeant?�

She snapped to salute. �Yes, sir.�

�And what are you doing?�

Snyder said, �She�s guarding me, but was taking a little rest. It�s been a long night.�

�I�ll be out in the morning. Get a little rest yourself. We have a busy day ahead of us.�

Continued Next Thursday

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Snyder reviewed Kendell�s message history to ensure he captured her texting style and didn�t arouse suspicion.

CThree hours later, Snyder sat on his bunk in the stockade. Sgt. Gina Kendell paced the cell block. �Why�d you have to get yourself thrown in the stockade?�

�I�ve told you five time now, I didn�t even know I was doing anything wrong.�

�I had a hot date. But am I going out? No, I�m babysitting a private being prose-cuted for a clerical error.�

Snyder�s head throbbed. �Sarge, I�m sorry. My head hurts.�

�You ought to take your pain pills.�

Yeah, but they have codeine in them, and if I take one I�ll be out all night. �Sarge, you want to listen to some music?�

She laughed. �Kid, you�re lucky Dread lets you eat more than bread and water. No radios allowed.�

�I can play the guitar.�

�No way am I going to your quarters to fetch it.�

��No need. I can get a guitar here with-out anyone having to fetch anything.�

��I�d like to see that.�

Snyder reached into his jacket and pulled out his pocket computer.

Kendell frowned. �Shouldn�t that have been taken away?�

��Yeah, but it wasn�t. And what Dread doesn�t know��

Kendell finished. ��won�t hurt him. It�s my motto when I have to guard this hole.�

Snyder pulled way a panel from the prison wall. �This�ll go back in place.�

�And what pray tell does this have to do with you playing the guitar?�

��You know the holographic game table in the break room?�

�Yeah.�

Snyder pressed a button on the computer. A holographic guitar appeared. �It also works for music.�

�Where�s the image generator?�

�It�s hidden in the wall. Up until last year, new cells were built with HV so that defendants could be tried virtually.�

�What happened last year?�

�The Steward learned via an anon-ymous e-mail that taxpayers were being bilked, with huge profits going to one of his predecessor�s front corporations. And the e-mail mentioned that in a pinch a particular cell could be fitted with HV for much cheaper than having it in every cell.�

�Did you send that e-mail?�

Snyder cleared his throat. �So, you like country?�

�Rural Nevada born and raised, you bet.�

Snyder played an old Toby Keith melody, �Beer for my Horses.�

�That sounds familiar, know the words?�

Snyder stopped playing. �Yeah, but don�t ask me to sing.� He stopped that nonsense when his voice changed.

�Fair enough, private.�

Snyder played next �Old Man River� and �This Old House.�

�I could listen to this all night.�

Yeah, but I have work to do. �Could you get us some tea?�

�Sure, be back in a second.�

Snyder opened his pill box and re-moved four codeine tablets. Hate to do this, Sarge. You�re a doll, but this is too important. It�ll just put you out for a few hours.

Kendell came back in and let herself into his cell. �One cup for the guard, one cup for the dangerous desperado.�

Snyder laughed. She was closer to the truth than she knew.

Kendell sighed. �I wonder if Dread has ever heard of �confined to quarters�?�

�So, any other music you like?�

�When I was younger, I was into the pop scene, but not anymore. Classical rock is good.�

Snyder crushed his codeine into his tea. �I can do that. Elvis Presley, a little U2.�

�You who?�

�Some band Grandma made me listen to. By the way, how long are you on?�

�Let me see.� Kendell turned to look at the wall chart. Snyder grabbed her tea cup and switched it with his.

�Sergeant Monroe will be in at 0200. Don�t try any of this music stuff on her. She�s a hard woman.� Kendell turned back to the tea cup. �How long will you be able to keep playing?�

�Oh, for an hour, maybe.�

�That�ll be just in time for light�s out. Let�s drink up and get back to the guitar.�

Snyder downed Kendell�s tea.

Afterwards, he played �Heartbreak Hotel� and �Jailhouse Rock.�

Kendell laughed. �That�s an interest-ing song to play in here.�

�Seemed appropriate.�

�You remind me of someone.�

�Who?�

Kendell yawned. �Oh, an old boy-friend, a musician.� Kendell yawned again. �I�d never think of Intelligence Techs as musicians.�

�Why not?�

��Musicians are sensitive and deep. In-telligence techs logical and mechanical.� Kendell stood. �I need to move. I can�t go to sleep.�

Snyder began to play Brahm�s lullaby.

Kendell yawned. �What are you doing?�

�Sarge, you�re tired, sit down. I�m the only one here, and I�m not going any-where.�

Kendell laid down on the floor. �May-be, it wouldn�t hurt for just a minute.�

Snyder continued to play.

�I should�� Kendell closed her eyes and began to snore.

Snyder finished the lullaby and grab-bed his blanket. He removed Kendell�s cell phone from her pocket and covered her. �Sorry, Sarge. But the stakes are too high.�

Now to send a text message to the relief Sergeant telling her that Dread had ordered Kendell to stay on duty so a relief wouldn�t be necessary.

Continued Next Thursday

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Snyder reviewed Kendell�s message history to ensure he captured her texting style and didn�t arouse suspicion.

Snyder leaned back in his cube, stretching. He�d finally finished decoding Level 48.

A chill tingled down his spine. Level 48 had Oerz destroy a school of young Unhams before they could grow up to threaten Oerz and his cute woodland forest creature friends. A giant Unham chased him into Level 49. It�d taken him five nanoseconds to figure out Unhams were humans. Only three levels left to decode, and he�d know if this were more than sick and effective propaganda.

�Private Snyder!�

Snyder turned. A smile broadened Dread�s lips. It was bad news when Dread was smiling.

Dread sighed. �It�s a pity you didn�t do this in your first enlistment, as you�d face the gallows. But at least I get to court martial you out of intelligence.�

Uh oh. What tracks had Snyder for-got to cover? �Sir, what are you talking about?�

�You gained unauthorized access to confidential segments of citizens� profiles.�

Snyder swallowed. �Sir, that infor-mation was sent at the request of Colonel Morgan.�

�Who is not an Army Intelligence officer and cannot grant you this permission. You could well be dishonorably discharged for this stunt, Snyder.� Dread�s smile broad-ened. �And I will ensure that you are.�

��Sir, I know we have our differences, but I�m working on something big.�

�A Judge Advocate General is coming tomorrow to prepare you for your court mar-tial. Meanwhile, you�ll be escorted to the stockade.�

�Permission to speak freely, sir?�

�Go ahead.�

�You are an idiot.�

Dread laughed. �Take him away.�

Continued Next Thursday

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Colonel Deshaun Morgan placed a vid call to the desk of the private the Boise PD told him to call regarding the death cult. Good thing he hadn�t stopped with those no-help IBI clowns.�

The call rang five times.

The holo-window blinked and display-ed a twenty-year-old blond private in dress uniform, seated at a workstation in a corp-orate cube.

The private arched his right eyebrow.

�Private, I�m Colonel Morgan.�

�One moment please, Sir.� Snyder pressed several buttons on his computer. �You�re authenticated, sir. What can I do for you?�

�I command the Moscow, Idaho battal-ion. A death cult killed some of my men. I�ve found similar crimes occurred in Boise. The police said you were working on some-thing.�

The blonde private nodded. �Yes, sir. The Boise conspirators had the same game on their consoles, Oerz. I assume you have access to the consoles of the suspects in Moscow.�

Why would a video game matter?

�Just a moment.� Morgan pulled up the con-sole file for Louise Montoya and checked under games.

Oerz-Level 38.

Then Reebok Marceau

Oerz-Level 42.

Then Speedstick Taylor.

Oerz-Level 41.

Morgan said, �Yeah, all have Oerz.�

�What level.�

�Between 38 and 42.�

�That�s a new record. I�ve never heard of anyone going crazy before Level 40. Right now, I�m trying to reverse engineer the game.�

��Why? Nearly every popular game has a walkthrough of some sort.�

�Sir, I couldn�t find an Oerz walk-through that goes past level 20. On Level 20, a pledge pops up that makes you promise not to reveal what happens here-after.�

�Who keeps a pledge to a video game?�

�Levels 20-26 are so boring, anyone who makes it past that is a hardcore fanatic.�

�How do we know the game isn�t just an inspiration for violence? What makes you think there�s anything deeper?�

�Intuition. This game seems explicit-ly anti-human. Plus it�s an anagram for zero.�

Morgan nodded. �I wish I could find out who in my area is playing Oerz at level 35 or greater, so we can keep an eye on them.�

Snyder smirked. �I can get you that info.�

Morgan whistled. �You can? But that�s��

��a cinch for Intelligence.�

��Let me know if your hunch pans out, or if you need anything.�

Snyder nodded. �Thank you, sir. I will.�

Continued Next Thursday

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Private A.L. Snyder burst out the door of the day school carrying an Asian little girl. An explosion knocked him to the ground. The child slipped from his grasp and landed a few feet ahead of him.

A dark brown hand grabbed his. Mama said, �Get up, boy.�

Snyder stood. The fire department moved in. Mama stormed over to the daycare worker who�d forgotten the child. �Girl, where�s your head? You almost killed that baby and mine. You got to mind what you�re doing.�

�Yes, ma�am, I�m sorry.�

�Oh you�re sorry, all right, honey.�

Was Mama trying to embarrass him?

Snyder growled. �Mama��

Mama Borden continued. �Your job is to take care of the kids. But can you do that?�

Snyder shouted, �Mama!�

Mama Borden turned and sighed. �I guess the important thing is everyone�s okay.�

Thankfully. Snyder walked over to the police car. Bill, his former Secretary B, sat in his squad car.

Snyder asked, �Hey, did they catch the terrorist who planted the bomb?�

Bill nodded. �They�re taking her down to IBI headquarters.�

�Could you take me there?�

�What business do you have in this?�

�This afternoon, I caught a member of her cult aboard Empire Air. Got time?�

Bill smiled. �Let me call Sarge. Things are slow, so they can spare me.�

� Soon, Snyder and Bill outside the IBI�s interrogation room. Bill yawned. �Are you sure Agent Carroll will talk to you?�

Snyder shrugged. �Hey, we got in.�

Carroll walked out of the interrogation room. �Keep this up, Private, and we�ll have to get you a named coffee mug.�

Snyder asked, �Learn anything?�

�She copped out to the bomb. And said her motive was to reduce the oppression of the Earth. I�m leaning towards her being a lone nut disparaging a great sect.�

Uh-huh. �I appreciate that some of you are peaceful, Carroll, but we�ve had three members of your great sect try to seize an airplane. Could I question her?�

�You have any experience?�

�No, but��

�But you figure an Army Intelligence desk jockey can out-interrogate the IBI.�

�Look��

Carroll put up his hands. �Give it a whirl. We�ve gotten some great IBI agents from Army Intelligence. Try it, maybe you�ll like it.� Carroll paused. �Only thing is, as she�s a member of a legal sect, the most…� Carroll licked his lips. �…interesting interrogation methods aren�t available.�

Snyder swallowed the bile rising. �Not a problem.�

He and Bill entered the room. The prisoner sat twirling a lock of her red hair around a finger. She frowned. �What is this? Good cop, bad solider?�

Snyder asked, �So what are you planning for endgame?�

She gasped. �How did you find out about endgame?�

�I learned of it from one of your friends.�

She grinned. �You have no idea.�

Snyder stared at her. �Which video game is it from?�

She turned her head away.

�Thank you. Come on, Bill.�

Bill said, �She didn�t tell us any-thing.�

�Oh, her eyes said plenty.�

The terrorist leapt up. The guard beside her pushed her back down.

Snyder and Bill exited the interroga-tion room. Carroll returned with a coffee cup in hand. �Learn anything, Junior G-man?�

�Can you get me access to their files?�

�We got warrants cleared on both of them. What do you want to check?�

�Their game libraries.�

Carroll arched his eyebrow. �Why would we care?�

�Endgame. She knows what it is. So did the air marshal who hijacked the plane.�

�And you think it has something to do with a computer game?�

��Couldn�t hurt to check.�

�Just a moment.� Carroll walked to a wall terminal.

Two minutes later, he waved Snyder over. �I�ve got all the suspects� game li-braries juxtaposed side by side.�

Like he needed Carroll�s help. Car-roll was just saving him the trouble of hacking in when he got back to Chic Hecht. �There�s a pattern. Our suspect and three hijackers all own the same game on their panel.�

Carroll smirked. �Yeah, Solitaire.�

Snyder glared. �These four have a game I�ve never heard of. Oerz: The quest for peace.�

Carroll laughed. �That�s the #3 game in the world. I even have a copy.�

��How far did you get?�

Carroll sighed. �That�s the rub. It was fun for the first fifteen levels and then it became too involved. You�d have to have no life to win.�

�With 14% unemployment, a lot of people have no life. If you reverse engineer that game, I think you�ll find the solution.�

Carroll chuckled. �I�ll get our video games division right on that, Snyder.�

Snyder sighed. He�d have some work to do once he got back to Nevada.

Continued Next Thursday

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Snyder settled into the breakfast cove with Mama Borden and two steaming hot mugs of peppermint tea.

Mama Borden picked the lint off her genuine African mud cloth caftan. �I don�t know why you hang around with that Chico.�

�He�s my best friend.�

�Every time I see him, he�s with a different woman. White, Black, Asian. Doesn�t matter. He plays them all.�

If you understood what Chico�s been through, maybe you wouldn�t be so harsh.�

�He�s my friend and I don�t have that many.�

�Son, bad company corrupts good character.�

Snyder laughed. �What makes you think I have good character?�

�I raised you, didn�t I?�

Mostly his grandmother did. New topic. He sipped his minty tea. �So, what�s new?�

�I�m moving.�

Snyder�s eyes widened. �Moving? You�ve lived here since before I was born.�

�Yeah, but it�s time I downsized. All you kids are gone, except Cerulean.�

�What will Cerulean do?�

Mama Borden cast a glance at the door to Cerulean�s workshop. �Baby, he�s the reason I�m moving out. It�s past time he got his own life, found a good woman, married and raised his own babies here.�

Snyder laughed. That notion was surely born of Cerulean being the only sibling genetically related to Mama. The ladies Substitute Daddy�s age would all be menopausal. �Cerulean, marry? He�s as ready as you to have us all out of the house, Mama. He�d be lost without you.�

�That�s not healthy, son. He needs to find his own way. Hopefully not down to South Carolina like the rest. I don�t under-stand why they�ve all gone back there.�

�It�s because they love you, Mama.�

Mama Borden raised her eyebrow. �Anny, they left their mama all alone because they love me? I�d love to know how you figure that.�

�Mama, this pond is three percent goldfish. If you�re going to insist they only catch goldfish, they�ve got a lot more gold-fish to choose from in South Carolina.�

Mama Borden grabbed the car keys off the table. �Let me show you the retire-ment center.�

Snyder walked out of the house. In their run-down West Boise neighborhood, Mama�s well-maintained house stood out like a sore thumb next to its dilapidated neighbors.

They drove down Curtis and cruised past trees lining the road into Garden City. The light turned red at Chinden and they stopped.

A stream of cars passed by, many of them illegal gas guzzlers. Loan sharks, dishonest car dealers, and adult book stores dotted the armpit of the Treasure Valley. Activists blamed Garden City on the Em-pire, but other than the public harem at the corner of 42^nd and Chinden, Garden City had been like this for more than a century, at least according to old timers.

The light turned green. In under a minute, they were past the ugliness and back to trees lining both sides of the road. Curtis became Veterans Memorial Parkway and changed to 36^th Street when they pass-ed the Dimitrovs Grocery Store and another public harem.

Snyder cleared his throat. �So, where am I going to stay if you sell the house?�

�Life is great at Super 8.� Mama laughed. �Anny, you�ve been in town four days in the last two years. They�ll let guests stay at the retirement home for up to 48 hours, and I don�t expect you�ll need more than that.�

Snyder stared out the window.

A redhead with a white purse exited a preschool. He caught a brief glimpse of a zero keychain latched on the purse.

�Stop the car.�

�Anny?�

�Stop, or I�ll jump.�

Mama Borden slammed the breaks.

Snyder jumped from the car and ran after the ecoterrorist. He pulled his Colt revolver. �Stop, or I�ll shoot.�

She kept going.

Mama called something, but Snyder�s focus blocked the meaning. He caught up with the ecoterrorist and tackled her to the ground. He reached into her mouth and got bitten. Screaming, he pulled the cyanide capsule from her mouth.

She cursed. �What are you doing?�

He glared, nursing his sore fingers. �Back at you, sister. That zero on your purse is the emblem I saw with two hijack-ers. What did you do at that preschool?�

The ecoterrorist smiled. �You�ll find out in about three minutes.�

Snyder sped for the preschool, pulled his phone out from his pocket, and dialed 9-1-1.

�9-1-1 emergency.�

�A terrorist has planted a bomb at the 36^th Street Day School. It detonates in two minutes. The suspect is fleeing on foot, headed north on 36, female Caucasian, red hair, blue eyes, about 60 kilograms, 160 centimeters. White purse, a zero emblem keychain attached.�

Snyder dropped the phone and raced in the school. He flashed his Intelligence badge. �Everybody out! Emergency!�

He ushered twenty little girls and two teachers out of the school. The teachers counted heads. The younger gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. �Marmalade!� She rushed towards the building.

Snyder grabbed her. �No, get back.�

A police car pulled up. Snyder dashed inside the school.

A four-year-old Asian girl stood out-side the bathroom. �Hello? Hello?�

Snyder ran over to her and picked her up. �We got to get out of here.�

He ran towards the door and opened it. A loud click sounded.

Behind them, the building exploded into flames.

Continued Next Week in Countdown

Continued Next Thursday

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The next morning, Captain Welch stood in the Seattle chief of police�s office with his seated boss.

�We�ve got a vigilante on the loose, sir.� Captain Welch handed the chief a picture of the drug dealer�s injuries. �This is the shape the hospital found an ex-con in. I warned you something like this would happen.�

The chief turned green and covered his mouth. �Powerhouse didn�t do this.�

�That�s what the guy said. He said it was somebody more frightening.�

�But who?�

Good question. �I don�t know.�

�Look here.� The chief tapped the photo. �On his back, there�s a Z.�

Welch took the picture. �But, look there, there�s also a� V.�

�The perp is imitating Zorro, except with a whip. The V probably means five, so to start, we can label the perp Zorro V.�

�What does that tell us?�

�Nothing. I just like to label things.�

�Of course.� Welch added a curse under his breath.

�

�

Frank Ross leaned across the board room table. �Marcos, what have you learn-ed about the guy who put our dealer in the hospital?�

That I don�t want to meet this guy in a dark alley. �Code name is The Emerald Avenger.�

Ross laughed. �Ooh, that�s original.�

�He�s scared Night Lord�s organiza-tion. A third of his dealers quit. Night Lord�s afraid the ship�s not done leaking people, either.�

Ross sighed. �What�s it coming to in this world, when it�s not safe to deal drugs?�

�I�ve asked myself the same question.�

�Powerhouse might have put me in jail, but this Avenger would kill me. Put a contract out for $1.7 million.�

�Consider it done.�

Continued Next Tuesday

Tales of the Dim Knight is coming out as book September 1st.

Three hours later, Snyder sat at thegray plastic table inside the airport security office�s interrogation room.

Across from him, the twenty-some-thing IBI bureaucrat who�d introduced himself as Agent Carroll said, �Private, I guess that�s the last question.�

Snyder sneered. �You sure? You didn�t ask my underwear size.�

Carroll scowled. �Watch the attitude.�

�Your processes just seem a little overdone.�

�Thorough, private. Thorough.�

�Can I ask why they did it?�

�They�re terrorists who have hijacked the Earth Liberation Movement, a peaceful member organ of the United Church of Herald. Through the prophet Jeconiah, may he leave no children to pollute Gaia, the queen goddess decreed that humans are an evolutionary mistake and must sacrifice ourselves so she can live.�

Coo-coo, coo-coo. �Peaceful? How is wanting humanity to go extinct harmless?�

�True ELM teaches nonviolence, to simply be sterilized and seek to reduce our carbon footprints as much as we can. I got my vasectomy on my eighteenth birthday.�

Ew. People were way too open about this type of thing. �I�ll be in Boise until tomorrow night and then back at my position. If you need anything else, please don�t hesitate.�

Carroll stood and gave Snyder a half-hearted handshake. �Nice meeting you.�

�You too.�

You couldn�t care less and neither could I.

Snyder grabbed his jacket and opened the door. The former Air Marshal was be-ing dragged away.

She screamed, �You will pay! You will all pay when endgame arrives!�

Snyder stared over at Carroll.

Carroll laughed. �Sometimes crazy people do things because they�re crazy.�

And sometimes IBI bureaucrats are idiots.

But it wasn�t his problem. Busting death cults was the IBI�s territory. Unlike the local cops, Carroll didn�t want help, and Snyder had better things to do.

He walked out of the security office, into the airport�s underbelly.

�Hola, amigo!�

His swaggering Vice-President waited by the luggage carrousel, standing a good three inches taller and a little meatier than the teenager he�d left behind four years earlier. Snyder ran and embraced Chico. �Man, it�s been forever.�

Another guy said, �I thought men didn�t hug?�

�I made an exception.�

Snyder released Chico and turned to take in Bill Whittier, his Secretary of the Posterior. Bill had gained some muscle, though only an inch in height.

More importantly, he was in the uni-form of the Boise Police Department. No more gangbanging for Bill, either. Snyder smirked. �You don�t look too cuddly.�

Bill smiled. �I�m all broken up.�

�Good to see you. Here on official business?�

�I wanted to see you and also make sure you don�t plan on making trouble.�

Snyder laughed. �You know me, B. I don�t go looking for trouble. Never have.�

�It always seems to find you. Look, I�m still your friend and all, but I�m not going to do you any special favors if you start anything. It was hard enough getting a badge with my background.�

�Of doing a better job keeping the streets clean than the 5-0?�

Chico frowned at Bill and shoved him like a brother. �Pose much, hombre? It would�ve been even harder to get your creds had Snyder fingered us when we attempted to hang Tio Rodrigo.�

Bill shushed Chico. �You want to go down to the station and share that?�

Snyder laughed. �Chill out, Sergeant Friday. I�m just here to see Mama. I�ll be out of town in thirty hours, I promise.�

�I didn�t mean it that way, man. I�m sorry. I�m just very scared.�

�You must wake up afraid the slug will recognize you and tell your buddies.�

Bill grimaced. �That�s hate speech, Snyder. But, given how I know what you mean, I�ll give you an unrecorded verbal warning.�

�Thanks. Want to get together?�

�Sure, the Sportsman Grill, tonight, sound good?�

�It�ll do. See you, John Law.� Snyder accompanied Chico out the revolving door and across the terminal�s drive way.

They climbed steps leading into park-ing area. Near the back of the lot, Chico opened the door of a 58 YE Red Ferrari Hybrid.

Snyder whistled. �This is your car?�

�Can you believe somebody tried to junk this? I got her for eight hundred dollars and spent the last year fixing her.�

Snyder got in the car and felt the leather seat under him. �Well done, my friend. Well done.� He glanced longingly at the ashtray. �Mind if I smoke?�

�Go ahead, hombre. Just open the glove box and fill out a form first.�

Snyder reached into the glove box and pulled out an electronic smoking permit. �Oh, come on. There�s not even a kid in the car.�

�Where have you been? That hasn�t mattered in two years, hombre. If you don�t sign the permit, a cop will stop me.�

Snyder snatched up the unit�s stylus. �Stupid nanny state.�

Chico said, �Hey, hombre, it�s all about protecting the public.�

Snyder looked up. A barefoot black girl strolled towards them on the sidewalk, arresting his eyes with the sleeveless black mini-dress the law required sexually mature harem girls to wear. He tore his gaze from the mess screens displaying the poor girl�s most private parts.

�We�re protecting the public, all right. For every old standard we cast aside, we make up a hundred petty crimes and a thousand vices to fight, all to justify the evil we�re permitting.�

Chico�s eyes followed the slave girl. �Hey, the world is what it is.�

Snyder grunted. �Here, put the permit in the window. I want to see my mom.�

Continued Next Thursday

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The flight attendant lunged. Snyder kicked him in the stomach and delivered an upper cut to the jaw that sent him sprawl-ing. The flight attendant gasped. �How did you know?�

�Your thumb ring had the same em-blem as the psycho air marshal�s wallet and that lady�s purse.�

The flight attendant laughed. �Most don�t notice it.�

�I�m in intelligence. We�re trained to notice. So what�s your game?�

�The human population should be zero.�

Snyder blinked. �That�s it.�

�Yes, and I�ll do my part.� The flight attendant chomped, swallowed, and began to gag.

Snyder grabbed him. �What�s going on?�

�Cyanide.� The flight attendant�s body fell deathly limp.

Snyder rushed to the psycho air marshal and pried her mouth open. At the back of her mouth was a false tooth. Snyder pulled the tooth out as she chomped down.

�No!� she screamed.

Snyder pulled the gun out. �Quiet down.�

�Kill me, whatever you want.�

He hit her with the gun, knocking her out again. He took off the dead flight attendant�s belt and used it to tie up the psycho air marshal. He glanced at the monitor.

The sewing lady stood outside the cockpit. She handed her captive female flight attendant a vile. The hostage poured the vile on the lock.

Snyder searched for the intercom button. He hit it. �A. L. Snyder of Army Intelligence here, Captain. The plane is being hijacked and one of them is about to break through. I need you to throw her off balance, make this a little less pleasant.�

The plane turned downward.

Snyder pushed the drink cart from coach through the entrance to first class. �Clear the aisle!�

The cockpit door exploded open.

The hijacker turned.

Loosed, the hostage jumped out of the way, into a vacant seat. The cart slammed into the hijacker and knocked her off her feet. The co-pilot grabbed away the knitting needles. The first class passengers burst into applause.

Snyder reached in the hijacker�s mouth and yanked out the cyanide capsule. �Get up, lady.�

The hijacker stood, and Snyder led her to the back of the plane.

Continued Next Thursday

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Snyder opened his eyes. His saluting elbow had landed in his seatmate�s face.

The middle-aged business man sitting next to Snyder said, �I�ve heard you guys could do your job in your sleep, but this is ridiculous.�

Snyder put his arm down. �Excuse me.� He got up and slipped into the cramped toilet.

After flushing, Snyder opened the door. The lady with the knitting needles stood. Sharp wooden points extended out of the needles. She grabbed the flight attend-ant and put a choke hold on her.

The black-haired young woman be-side the middle-aged terrorist leaped up, brandishing a pistol. �Everybody down!�

Snyder grabbed a fire extinguisher and ducked back into the toilet.

�You!� Footsteps approached the closed door. �Come out, or you�re dead.�

Snyder kicked the door open and threw the fire extinguisher in the woman�s face. She fell. Snyder grabbed the black-haired woman�s gun and tucked it into his belt.

How did you get aboard this bird with a gun?

Snyder turned her over and retrieved her wallet from her jacket pocket. The wallet had an engraved zero on the cover, like the purse. He flipped the wallet open. An Air Marshal badge gleamed.

It�s lovely when these folks go psycho.

A male flight attendant came back. �Nice move, sir.�

Snyder stood. �Where�s the other one?�

�The cockpit. We�ve got a security array by the drinks, if you want to check on camera.�

The flight attendant pressed a button by a large bottle of wine, revealing a series of cameras throughout the plane.

Snyder eyed the zero emblem on the guy�s thumb ring. �Nice. Now sit on the ground, hands behind your head.�

Continued Next Thursday

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Snyder located his gate. His row was called, and he made his way to his seat on the massive 747. He found his seat near the back of the plane. He settled in, pulled a holobook out of his carryon bag and resumed reading The Count of Monte Christo.

Five pages in, two cheery flight at-tendants gave a presentation on what to do if the plane crashed for the twentieth time this year. Listening to this four times a trip had to be his least favorite hazard of intro-ducing churches to the gospel of modern encryption.

�Thank you for flying Empire Air,� one flight attendant said as the plane began to climb.

Snyder glanced around the half-empty cabin. A few chairs ahead, across the aisle, a middle aged woman knitted over a purse with a gold zero emblazoned on the side. Next to her, a young, black-haired woman in a ladies� suit sipped from a wine glass.

Snyder yawned, his eyes heavy. He shut the holo-book. Unless he was the pilot, he never got to enjoy a flight other than take off and landing.

He entered a great hall like his grandmother�s living room only far larger, with large tables set up. Each one seated saints, dead war heroes, and Founding Fathers. Only one table, far as he could see, had a seat open. He approached it and blinked at the golden card. Reserved for General A. L. Snyder.

This surely had to be intended for some other Snyder. Nonetheless, he took the seat and peered at his tablemates: St. Joan of Arc, President George Washington, General Patton, President Eisenhower, and Mel Gibson dressed as William Wallace from the original Braveheart movie.

St. Joan said, �There�s injustice and violence everywhere.�

Washington nodded. �Indeed, every-one does injustice and no one stands to oppose it.�

Gibson/Wallace said, �We�ve sought diligently for someone to make things right.�

Snyder asked, �Why don�t you do it? You�re the toughest people in history.�

Gibson/Wallace sighed. �Lad, we�ve finished our courses. The call must go to each generation.�

Snyder sat forward. �I can do it.�

Washington leaned back. �You have no idea how much it will cost.�

�Doesn�t matter.�

�It will, but you must stay the course. That�s your charge.�

Snyder saluted. �Yes, sir.�

�Hey!� shouted a voice from outside the room.

Continued Next Thursday

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Snyder stood outside the airport ter-minal. He waited through two rings. Father Bernard�s voice came on. �Hello, Snyder.�

�I had a successful meeting.�

�And I assume their friends will be interested.�

�Oh, they�re gonna have an Empire-ware party.� Snyder paused. �Father, on another matter, I was hoping I�d get to see you. It�s been months since we�ve talked face to face.�

Father Bernard said, �I�ll do the best I can, but between the Tupperware parties, parish work, and your job, it�s quite a mat-ter to arrange schedules.�

�I get back into Vegas on Thursday Night. We could get some dessert before I go back to base.�

�I�m sorry, son. I already have an ap-pointment. Perhaps Father Rayburn can come and pick you up.�

�No thanks.� It wasn�t Father Ray-burn who�d helped him come back to the church and mentored him.

Snyder sighed. Was Bernard avoiding him? Why would he? �I hope to get into town in another month. Maybe I�ll catch you then.�

�Will do. Bless you, my son.�

�Talk to you later, Father.�

Snyder picked up his carryon bag and approached the security gate.

The guard said, �Private, you need to check your weapon.�

Snyder pulled the gun out handle first towards the guard. �Yeah, I know.�

The guard took the gun. �Step for-ward into the biometrics scanner.�

Snyder stepped into the plastic arch-way that protested if he carried on him any-thing even as sharp as a butter knife.

The scanner beeped. �Private First Class, A. L. Snyder, Imperial Army Intelli-gence. No warrants outstanding. No contra-band found.�

��A few moments while the computer records your gun information.� The guard stared at Snyder�s uniform. �How long you been in?�

�Four years.�

The guard laughed. �Four years. When I did my hitch, I had been a corporal for a year. How do you stay so long and still just be a private?�

It doesn�t help when your commanding officer hates your guts and is disappointed you didn�t get hung during your first tour of duty. �How do you stay in your job for so many years without getting a promotion?�

The guard cleared his throat. �Your gun is checked, Private. You�re free to board.�

Continued Next Thursday

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Private First Class A.L. Snyder stood with his gun drawn outside a townhome in San Diego�s suburbs. He waited thirty seconds and kicked the door in. �Freeze! Face down on the ground! Now!�

The young Latino couple seated in the living room rushed to obey. The redheaded kilted marriage counselor, from the looks of things, stood and made direct eye contact. �You don�t want to do this, son. Now, how can I help you?�

Being scared at an Imperial raid would help. How was he supposed to scare this cell straight with the pastor acting like he�d come to borrow a cup of sugar?

�Private A.L. Snyder, Imperial Army Intelligence. I came to warn you I came across unencrypted information from your cell.�

The redhead said, �We don�t need fancy computer encryption, we have a cipher.�

�Yeah, and I have a program that breaks ciphers. It took twenty seconds to get vital information about your operations. I checked, and we already have a decades-long sheet on your cell�more specifically, on your family, Dr. McIntyre.�

The redhead wrinkled up his nose. �Please, young man, it�s Brother Kael. We�re all equals in the sight of God.�

Take him back to Mama Borden�s Baptist church why didn�t he? �Look, I realize from the Christian viewpoint, a rap sheet like what your family�s got is a prestigious resume, but from the Empire�s standpoint, it�s the height of ugly. Had someone else found what I did, you�d be on your way to jail. With what�s already in your file, I don�t know why you haven�t been locked up yet, honestly.�

Kael grinned. �All in the Lord�s good time, I assure you, and not a moment sooner will I receive that honor.�

�Hey, I agree. Nothing wrong with being imprisoned for the Faith. Being im-prisoned because you used cheap and out-dated security is another matter. I can get you proper encryption, and I can provide instructions so every contact point within your cell is fully protected.�

�Why would you do this?�

�Because, I�m a Catholic, and no, we don�t follow the false pope. �

Kael glanced down at Snyder�s wrist. �You�re tagged.�

�We may have a slight disagreement on that, but if I were here to bust you, I�d already done it. I�m offering my help, and I�m offering it for free.�

Kael laughed. �My favorite price.�

�Good, show me to your terminal.�

Continued Next Thursday

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