) I even started to wonder about my own state of mind because I was enjoying seeing him stepped on so much.......Note: In the future, I'll be using asterisks to denote *telepathic speech* instead of <carats>. Carats have been causing HTML problems on boards that don't accept HTML.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
December 14, 1947, 1830 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
"Sir?"
Spade looked up from the tray of food he'd just sat down with in the mess hall. "What is it?"
"Uh...I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but you asked to be notified when Major Lewis arrived."
Spade glanced at his watch; it was 1830, an hour and a half past Ramey's 1700 deadline and almost two hours since Ramey had left. More time than they'd expected....and it still hadn't been enough.
"How many are with him?" Spade asked.
"Five, sir, including the Major. They're being processed upstairs now."
"Thank you, Private," Spade said heavily. "Dismissed."
Leaving his tray of food untouched on the table, Spade headed for the basement. "Privates," he said to the guards outside John's room, "you're relieved until further notice."
"Thank you, sir!" one of the guards said as both beat a hasty exit, not bothering to ask why they were being relieved. Everyone was exhausted, pulling double, even triple shifts while they were undermanned due to those who'd been knocked out the night before and those going through the x-ray training. Spade had tried to carefully rotate personnel through the guard positions and still allow enough time for at least some food and sleep, but hadn't been completely successful. At least these guards would get a little breathing room, meaning something good would come of this latest mess even if all else failed.
Leaning his shoulder into the door to the observation room, Spade slid the heavy door open. "You're relieved until further notice," he said to the soldier sitting in front of the window through which John's prone form could be seen.
The soldier turned around, surprised. "Thompson," Spade said, "I didn't realize you were in here now. God, I can't keep track of where I put anybody now that everyone's all over the place." He sighed. "You're relieved. Go get something to eat, or grab a nap while you can."
Thompson poked his head outside. "Where are the other guards, sir?"
"They're relieved too. You're all relieved."
"Why?"
"I don't have time to explain. Go on, get out of here."
"Something's wrong, isn't it, sir?"
Spade leaned wearily against the opening in the wall. "Look....Brian....I don't want you involved in this, okay?"
"With all due respect, sir, I've heard that before," Thompson answered. "Is it the aliens?"
"Worse," Spade said. "This time it's us."
Thompson's eyes widened. "Sir, what is going on?"
"I told you I don't have time for this," Spade said impatiently. "Major Lewis will be here in just a few minutes, which means you shouldn't be."
"And leave you all alone here? I don't think so."
"Thompson, go!" Spade said in exasperation. "That's an order!"
"I respectfully refuse to comply until I get an explanation, sir," Thompson said firmly. "So unless you plan on wasting what little time you have dragging me away, I recommend you talk fast."
Damn it! Spade pounded his fist into the wall in frustration as Thompson stood there, unmoved and unmoving. "Fine. Ramey was ordered to kill the prisoner anyway, in spite of the fact that we found a way to identify the aliens and keep them out. And it gets worse. Major Lewis has been given permission to conduct some kind of freaky living autopsy on him. That's why he's headed down here now."
"Living....autopsy, sir?" Thompson repeated faintly. "You mean they're going to cut him open while......" He stopped, unwilling to finish the sentence.
"Yes," Spade said, feeling his hackles rise at just the thought of it. "They can't kill him—his body will turn to dust, and then they can't study him. So they're planning to study him while he's alive until the act of 'studying' renders him dead anyway."
Thompson's face had gone white. "Sir, that's....that's....."
"Exactly. Which is why Ramey is out there now trying to do an end run around whoever ordered this. But he's not back yet. I volunteered to head Lewis off at the pass."
"All by yourself?" Thompson asked in disbelief. "Why didn't you come to me?"
"Because Ramey may not succeed," Spade answered, "in which case I'll be screwed for defying the orders Lewis no doubt has with him. I'm willing to go down for this, but I'm not willing to drag anyone else down with me. So get out of here while the getting's good."
"Get Dr. Pierce," Thompson suggested. "He had a fit the last time Lewis tried to muscle his way in. He—"
"No," Spade broke in, shaking his head. "Pierce may be a doctor, but first and foremost, he's a political animal—he'll go whichever way the wind blows. You should have heard him this morning when Ramey told everyone they might have to execute the prisoner. The first thing Pierce wanted to know was whether he'd get to conduct the autopsy. He won't side with Ramey if Ramey's position is shaky. Neither would Cavitt. I'm on my own on this one until Ramey gets back. If he gets back," he added ruefully.
"So what are you going to do?" Thompson asked. "Just stand here and refuse to let him in? He'll just have you hauled off, and the prisoner's as good as dead!"
"You got a better idea?"
Voices sounded in the distance, accompanied by footsteps. "Yes," Thompson said. "As a matter of fact, I do."
******************************************************
"Was this really necessary?" Amar said irritably, as Malik heaved him none too gently onto the floor of their latest hiding place.
"Absolutely," Orlon said, easing Marana onto the floor while the one conscious hunter took care of the other hunters, who were just beginning to come around. "Brivari would have found us had we not moved."
"But twice?" Amar griped. "Why twice?"
"Our first stop was merely a resting point," Orlon said. "All of you are rather heavy, you know."
"I thought you said Brivari didn't follow you?" Amar continued, unwilling to give up.
"I said I did not see him following me," Orlon clarified. "That does not mean he didn't follow me. Don't underestimate him a second time, Amar."
"I don't see what your problem is," Marana said to Amar, her voice still thick with the effects of the sedative. "You didn't have to walk—you were carried here. Which is a lot more than you deserve for completely ruining everything last night."
"I ruined everything?" Amar echoed. "I'm not the one who failed to take out a single human soldier. I'm not the one who shifted halfway, making it all too clear what was going on."
"I was trying to get a better grip on his head! I can't grab anything with these tiny things—they're useless!" Marana said angrily, brandishing her now-human hands.
Malik leaned against the wall of the barn in which they'd taken shelter and slid down to the ground, exhausted. Amar and Marana had both opened their eyes enroute from their previous hiding place to this one; unfortunately, their mouths had opened at the same time. They'd been at it all the way here, each blaming the other for failing to break into the humans' lab and obtain the serum which would allow them to chemically shackle Brivari and Jaddo. The two sedated hunters had begun to wake also, but they were silent. Their only virtue, Malik thought, eyeing them with distaste. Just being near those creatures made his skin crawl.
"Oh, please!" Marana was saying. "You screwed everything up long before we made it to the lab! 'There's never a guard there,' you said. 'We can just walk right in,' you said. Instead we find the lab heavily guarded. So much for all your 'intelligence'," she said derisively, infusing that last word with an extra helping of sarcasm.
"You think one human means 'heavily guarded'?" Amar said in disgust. "I say we should never have taken a scientist with us. That was the only mistake we made."
"Enough!" Orlon commanded, as Marana struggled to a sitting position, ready to retort. "You're both missing the point, that being that acquiring Jaddo should have been easy for us given the humans low level of technology. Instead we found ourselves under attack, with four of us compromised and one dead. How did that happen?"
"Apparently I'm not the only one guilty of underestimating Brivari," Amar grumbled.
"Brivari could not have been responsible for what happened at the human compound last night," Orlon said, eyeing him beadily. "They were ready for us. Not just at the laboratory, but throughout the compound. They knew we were coming. How did they know that, Amar?"
"What, you think I'm to blame for that?" Amar exclaimed. "Honestly, why do I get blamed every single time something goes wrong?"
"Maybe because you're usually to blame?" Marana offered helpfully.
"How else could the humans have known we were here?" Orlon demanded. "You didn't stick to the plan, Amar. You entered without permission, without even telling the rest of us what you were doing!"
"I found another way in!" Amar said angrily. "A quieter way than what you had in mind. And the human whose place I took was out cold when I left him, so he couldn't have tipped them off!"
"What about the one who started blabbing about 'aliens' when we first got inside?" Marana asked.
"He'll never do that again," Amar answered coldly. "I saw to that—even with my 'tiny, useless' human hands," he added, as Marana glowered at him.
"Tonight there will be no deviating from the plan," Orlon said firmly. "Our job will be harder because they know we're here, and I'll not have you running off and giving away our presence yet again. You'll do as you're told. Is that clear?"
"They didn't see me!" Amar exploded. "I know they didn't!"
"Then how do you explain their readiness?" Orlon asked.
Amar fell into a frustrated silence as Orlon nodded his head grimly. "Exactly. There is no other explanation. Something you did, whether you are aware of it or not, alerted the humans to our presence, and I'll not have that happen again."
Malik closed his eyes as Amar erupted yet again, deeply grateful that he'd planted the seeds of this argument last night. Any tinge of guilt he might have felt for deliberately pointing the finger at Amar was outweighed by the sheer number of times Amar's impulsiveness had caused all sorts of problems. At least this time his impulsiveness had been useful.
*Actually, there is another explanation.*
Malik opened his eyes to find Marana staring at him. She was speaking to him privately; Amar and Orlon continued their battle, oblivious.
*Such as?*
*Such as someone deliberately warned the humans,* Marana said, watching him carefully from her semi prone position several feet away.
The two of them locked eyes for a moment *And you think that someone was.....me?* Malik asked.
Marana held his gaze for a moment longer before dropping her own. *No. This has Amar's carelessness written all over it. And Orlon told me how you kept Jaddo from shooting him. And how you went back for Amar and me.* She paused. *Thank you.*
*You're welcome,* Malik replied, making a mental note to be very careful about what he said to Marana in the future. He'd been frank with her yesterday out of habit, a habit developed during those conversations via communicator.....a habit he could no longer afford. Being honest was one thing when she was back home in another part of the galaxy, but now....now she was here, on Earth, and he walked a finer line than ever before. If he were careless as he walked that line, it would not take her long to reach some very logical conclusions. Hopefully that would never happen. Hopefully Brivari would have fled, and the humans would have figured out what he meant by his reference to shoe stores. And if they hadn't...well, if they hadn't, then according to the human soldier, there would be one less Warder to walk that fine line for.
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
"Lieutenant Spade!" Major Lewis said cheerfully as he approached the prisoner's room, his entourage close on his heels. "How good to see you!"
Can't say the same. "Good evening, Major," Spade replied tonelessly.
"I don't usually find you on guard duty," Lewis continued, "but then you are down several men due to last night's festivities, aren't you?"
"Yes, Major," Spade said, eyeing Lewis's full uniform, formal coat, and gloves; he'd dressed impeccably for his butchery, much the same way Cavitt had dressed for war. It was said that Josef Mengele had been quite the natty dresser as he'd sent his Jewish prisoners to either the right or the left. There must be something intoxicating about domination that made men want to look their best. A gaggle of Captains and Majors gathered behind Lewis, crowding close, eyes darting left and right as though expecting aliens to sprout from the walls. Right about now, Spade was almost wishing they would. John may not want to be captured by his own people, but captured was preferable to dead any day.
"Lieutenant," Lewis was saying, "I have orders from General McMullen which supersede any orders you have received from Major Pierce.....or even General Ramey," he added, with a deep note of satisfaction. "I took care to obtain written orders this time as I didn't want a repeat of the last time I was given leeway and refused access. I believe you'll find everything in order."
Lewis handed over a sheaf of papers, which Spade took his time going through. The orders were markedly explicit in that Lewis was given total control of the prisoner, and markedly vague as to what exactly he was going to do with said prisoner. Naturally no one would want to put that in writing.
"Very good, sir," Spade said, handing the papers back to a beaming Lewis. "I just need Major Cavitt's approval as I notice he remains head of security, and then—"
"Yes, yes," Lewis interrupted. "Major Cavitt will be down momentarily. He had to take an important phone call from General McMullen. In the meantime, I should like to see my prisoner. Is it still unconscious?"
"My" prisoner. "Yes, sir," Spade said, swallowing the bile in his throat. "He is."
" 'He'?" queried one of the other officers.
Lewis smiled indulgently. "You'll find that some of the personnel here do refer to the creature as 'he', which is visually correct, although as you'll soon see, not anatomically correct. It looks human, gentlemen, so it is very easy for the uninitiated to forget that it isn't. We, as men of medicine, do not fall victim to this fallacy." He gestured toward the observation room. "Allow me to demonstrate. Lieutenant, open the door."
"Yes, sir," Spade said, sliding the door to the observation room open, everyone crowding inside and peering through the window.
"At ease, Private," Lewis said casually as Thompson rose from his seat at the counter and saluted. "We're just looking. For the moment."
"My God!" breathed one of the Captains gaping at the window. "It looks....it looks human!"
"Completely human," murmured another as he stared at John's motionless form.
"Bernard," said another uneasily, "it won't be....well.....conscious, will it?"
"As I explained, we can't simply put it to sleep," Lewis answered, as though he were a veterinarian talking about a dog. "The bodies we've seen so far have disintegrated within twenty-four hours after death, so we'll have to keep it alive as long as possible to avoid that. As for being conscious, Major Cavitt and I were planning to use this opportunity to gather intelligence. Granted, it will wind up dead eventually anyway, but along the way....let's just say we have the power to make that death either more or less painful. If it's willing to answer our questions, I'm willing to lessen its pain. The end result will be the same, of course, and it's a hopelessly contrary creature, but we were planning on giving it that choice."
Choice? Spade looked away, his stomach turning. Apparently he wasn't the only one.
"Bernard, I don't know if I can do this," said the officer who had asked about John being conscious. "I know you say it isn't human, but it looks human."
"This is what the Nazi's did," murmured the Captain who'd spoken before.
The smile fell from Lewis's face as he stepped closer to the group. "Now you listen to me," he said severely. "That thing is not human. The fact that it appears human is irrelevant—it isn't. We can't apply human standards to non-human creatures. That's like saying goats are as good as we are, or any other animal or insect, for that matter. And there are more of these alien creatures out there, gentlemen. Just last night, this compound was attacked by several of these things, trying to free this one. Why are they here? What do they want? This one won't say. I say we make him say, for the security of not just our nation, but the entire planet. Think, gentlemen! Think of the stature of our country should we be the ones to foil an alien attack on this planet! Think of the consequences should we fail! Do you want that on your consciences? Do you?"
Silence. Spade eyed the officers' expressions, noting that most of them still appeared gratifyingly disturbed. At least not everyone was walking into this bloodbath with a happy smile and a spring in his step.
But walking in they were. "Of course not," the Captain answered, still appearing uneasy, but clearly unwilling to act on that uneasiness. "I'm just questioning the method we're using, that's all."
"The only one to blame for the method we're using is that thing in there," Lewis said firmly. "It has been here for the past five months, housed and fed at the expense of the American people. It has repeatedly been asked about its people's intentions toward our planet, and it has declined to elaborate. It has no one to blame but itself." He turned to Spade. "Lieutenant, open the prisoner's room."
"Yes, sir," Spade replied, nodding to Thompson, who headed into the hallway as Spade hoped Lewis wouldn't notice the handoff. Everyone followed, watching as Thompson began to open the heavy sliding door of John's room, holding their breaths. Spade held his breath too, albeit for a different reason.
"It sticks," Thompson had said earlier. "If you open it just right, the door jams. Won't go forward or back."
"So Lewis will just get it unjammed," Spade had countered. "How does that help us?"
"Only two people know how to unjam this door," Thompson had replied, "and one of them is still sedated."
Now Spade held his breath as the door began to slide open. One inch....two inches....Thompson appeared to be leaning into the door, not merely pushing it sideways.....three inches....four inches.....it wasn't working....five....six.....and the door stopped.
"What's wrong?" Lewis asked.
"It's the door, sir," Thompson replied in a properly mystified voice. "It's stuck."
"Then unstick it," Lewis ordered pleasantly.
"I'm trying, sir," Thompson answered, pushing for all he was worth.
"Lieutenant, would you?" Lewis asked.
"Of course, sir," Spade said, joining Thompson at the door.
Five minutes later, after a good deal of pushing and shoving with no result, Lewis's cheerful façade began to crack. "What is the matter?" he barked at Spade, staring through the narrow opening at the prize he could see, but not reach. "I want this door opened now!"
"I'm sorry, sir," Thompson said, sounding genuinely contrite. "We've been having some trouble with it. The room wasn't completely ready because we weren't planning to use it this soon, so we hadn't ironed out all the kinks yet."
"I don't care about 'kinks'," Lewis said irritably. "Lieutenant, get more of your men to help."
"I'm sorry, sir, but everyone's working double and triple shifts because we're so short-handed. I'll—"
"Then they'll have to pull a quadruple shift!" Lewis snapped.
"—have to pull someone off a guard post, and for that, I need Major Cavitt's approval," Spade finished. "Shall I go fetch him?"
Lewis sighed in exasperation. "No. This is taking too long. Fetch some tools and we'll break the door open."
Spade blinked, watching Thompson do the same. They hadn't expected Lewis to be willing to damage his brand new, shiny holding cell. "But what if we capture more prisoners?" Spade asked. "This is our only holding cell, so if this one is damaged—"
"Leave the thinking to your superiors and obey my order," Lewis said impatiently. "I want this door open!"
"Yes, sir," Spade answered. It's over, he thought sadly. He would certainly take his time fetching the tools, but once fetched, it wouldn't take long to get inside. Either Ramey had failed, or he just hadn't been fast enough. He was almost to the end of the hall when Major Cavitt appeared around the corner.
"Major Lewis," Cavitt said in a heavy voice. "We need to talk."
"Sheridan!" Lewis exclaimed, beaming once again. "So good to see you! We're just having a little trouble with the door," he noted gesturing toward Thompson, who was still making a show of trying to open it. "I—" He stopped, registering the look on Cavitt's face. "What's wrong?"
"Gentlemen," Cavitt said to Lewis's hovering court, "would you excuse us please?"
They filed away silently, casting surreptitious glances in Lewis's direction, their expressions an odd mixture of curiosity, fear....and relief. Cavitt waited until the group of officers was well out of earshot before speaking again.
"I'm afraid there's been a change in plans, Bernard."
"Change in plans?" Lewis echoed. "What does that mean? What—no," he finished, shaking his head. "No!"
"I've just received new orders from General McMullen," Cavitt went on. "It seems General Ramey has pulled a rabbit out of his hat. He's back in command and on his way here....and he has ordered me to remove you from this compound."
Yes! Spade had to struggle hard to keep a look of triumph off his face...not that it would have mattered. Cavitt and Lewis were consumed with each other, each staring at the other as though Spade and Thompson simply weren't there.
"What?" Lewis demanded, thunderstruck. "He couldn't be! He couldn't have! I have orders!" he exclaimed, brandishing his clutch of papers, "orders which—"
"—have been countermanded by the very man who gave them," Cavitt interrupted.
Lewis's face contorted, the hand holding his now-rescinded orders still in the air. "Countermanded?" he repeated. "What do you mean, 'countermanded'! Do you—"
"Bernard," Cavitt began.
"—realize how long I've waited for this? How long we've waited?"
"Of course I realize that," Cavitt said sharply. "I was here before you were, remember?"
"And we're here now," Lewis hissed, "and Ramey is not. I say we take what we want before he gets here, and tell everyone you failed to reach me in time." He turned to Thompson. "Open that door!"
"Belay that order," Cavitt said quietly, as Thompson looked back and forth from one officer to another in confusion. "Bernard....in here," he continued, gesturing toward the observation room. Thompson jammed his foot against the door as it slid shut, leaving a tiny crack.
"What are you doing?" Spade whispered. "They'll see the light from the hallway!"
"No they won't, sir," Thompson whispered back. "This is something else we've learned about these new rooms. This door is closed enough to block the light from the hall, but if we're lucky, we'll still be able to hear."
He was right. Moments later, voices floated from the observation room; faint voices, to be sure, but audible nonetheless.
"How could Ramey possibly pull off something like this?" Lewis was demanding.
"The old fashioned way," Cavitt's voice answered soberly. "With a threat. Ramey has threatened to blow the Army's cover and tell the public we've discovered aliens. Naturally once that happens, the president will know as well."
"Then why hasn't he been dealt with?" Lewis snapped. "I'll deal with him myself if I have to!"
"As would I, were it prudent to do so," Cavitt answered, as Spade's blood ran cold at this casual reference to murder. "But his is no idle threat. Ramey claims to have secreted damning letters with various people. Should anything happen to him, from death to mere reassignment, those letters will be dispatched to various newspapers and radio stations throughout the country."
"He's bluffing!" Lewis declared. "He'd be killing his career!"
"His career is dead anyway," Cavitt pointed out, "not to mention the fact that he's near retirement. And we can't take the chance that he's bluffing. If even one of those letters gets out, we'll have a devil of a time sitting on it."
"Then find them!" Lewis exclaimed. "Where are his family, his friends? He must have given them to people he trusts. This shouldn't be that difficult!"
"They're trying," Cavitt answered, an edge of irritation in his voice. "And in the meantime, we are going to accept this graciously and step aside until the time is right. Which is not all bad," he added in a voice heavy with regret. "My efforts to find the other alien have failed; it has slipped through my fingers yet again. This remains the only one we have, and I am not eager to lose it prematurely."
Silence. Thompson and Spade stood on either side of the slightly open door, one listing right, the other left so they could hear better. Finally Lewis spoke again.
"You're not going to let me at it, are you?"
"Of course not."
"I thought you were on my side, Sheridan!"
"I'm on the winning side, Bernard," Cavitt answered, his voice cold. "You were winning. Now you're not. It's that simple."
Bastard, Spade thought sourly, feeling slightly guilty that he was pleased with the outcome of Cavitt's approach—this time.
"Now I strongly suggest you leave this place before Ramey gets here, and definitely before Pierce finds out about this," said Cavitt. "The minute he discovers you've been thwarted, he'll be impossible to live with. Go home like a good boy and behave yourself. There will be another time."
Movement. Spade and Thompson vaulted away from the door moments before it opened and a seething Lewis stepped into the hallway followed by Cavitt. Lewis stalked off without another word as Cavitt remained in the hall, staring after him.
"Major?" Thompson ventured.
"What is it, Private?" Cavitt asked without looking at him.
"Uh...Major Lewis wanted the prisoner's door open. Do....you....still want the door open?"
"No," Cavitt answered, still gazing down the hall where the furious Lewis had just flown around the corner. "Close the door and resume your posts, both of you."
Thompson slid the door—now magically free—into the closed position as soon as Cavitt left. "That was close," he said to Spade, leaning against the wall. "I never expected Lewis to order me to break the door down."
"That'll tell us how badly he wants at him," Spade murmured, gazing in the door of the observation room through the window.
"Everybody wants at him," Thompson remarked. "Humans, aliens...at least it wasn't aliens this time."
"I'd rather it were," Spade answered.
Thompson looked at him in surprise. "You would? Why?"
Spade shook his head. "Because these are our people, Brian. I don't know about you, but I expect better from our own people."
******************************************************
8:20 p.m.
Proctor residence
"Bedtime, kiddo," David Proctor said as he entered Dee's bedroom. Dee was kneeling on the bench by her window, arms on the windowsill, chin on her hands, staring at the sky like he'd seen her do so many times before. Only now the sky meant something different. It always would.
"Do I have to?" Dee asked, not turning around.
"Afraid so. Tomorrow's a school day."
She gave him a skeptical look, not bothering to voice what they both knew—it seemed ludicrous to fuss about ordinary things like bedtimes and school when in the midst of alien craziness. But those ordinary things were precisely what kept all of them from going crazy in their own right, so fuss about them they would. Emily's quest for "normal" was not without merit.
"Where do you think Brivari is now?" Dee asked, still looking out the window.
David sat down beside her on the bench. "Probably looking for the others."
"And where are they?"
"I'm not sure."
She twisted her head around to look at him. "If it were you, what would you do?"
"If I were them, I'd head for the Army base," David said. "They don't know where Brivari is, but they do know where Jaddo is."
"So that's where Brivari will go," Dee said softly, turning back to the window. "They'll all wind up there." She paused. "Do you think he'll be okay?"
"I hope so, honey," David said, keeping his own thoughts on the matter to himself. For all that had happened to her, Dee was still hopeful. No sense in robbing her of that.
"Maybe you should have given him your gun," she said thoughtfully. "Then he'd have another way to fight, and Mama wouldn't be mad at you anymore."
"Yes she would," David said, smiling at the way children seemed to think complex things could be fixed so quickly. "She'd still be mad because I had it in the first place."
"Yeah, I suppose so," Dee sighed. She shifted her position on the bench slightly. "I wish I'd had your gun when they came for Urza and Valeris."
"And what would you have done with the gun if you'd had it?" David asked, treading carefully. "Would you have shot one of the soldiers?"
"I hope not. I wouldn't have wanted to. But...maybe I could have just scared them off with it?"
David suppressed a smile at the thought of one little girl holding off a hundred soldiers with a gun. "I think they would have realized that you didn't intend to use it," he said gently. "I learned something important in the war—never pick up a gun you don't intend to use."
She pondered that for a moment, the wheels almost visibly turning in her nine year-old brain. "I guess you're right," she said reluctantly. "I guess it doesn't make much sense to point the gun if you won't shoot it anyway. So....when you got your gun last night, you meant to use it?"
"If I had to," David said.
"You killed a lot of people in the war, didn't you Daddy?"
"Yes," David answered after a moment. "Yes, I did."
"Was it hard to do that?"
"I didn't have much time to think about it when it was happening," David admitted. "And I only killed people who were trying to kill me or the people I was with. It was kill, or be killed."
"Like last night, when you shot the hunter," Dee said, nodding. "But what about later? It must have been hard later because you had all those bad dreams after you came home."
"It was," David said as Dee pulled back from the windowsill and settled into the crook of his arm. "Killing people is never easy. And it shouldn't be. Even when it's necessary."
"Deputy Valenti said you saved his life by killing the hunter," Dee said.
"Yes, I think I did."
"And Brivari said he might not have gotten away if you and Valenti hadn't shown up with your guns," she went on, still trying to make sense of her conflicting feelings.
"Yes, he did."
"So...it's not the gun that's bad," Dee said. "It's who's holding it."
"And where they're pointing it, and why they're doing that," David added.
Silence. Sounds drifted through the open bedroom door, Emily moving around in the bedroom across the hall. The grandfather clock chimed the half hour at the base of the stairs. "I do wish I'd had a gun when the soldiers came," Dee said suddenly. "I would have given it to Valeris, and maybe then they wouldn't have shot him." She twisted her head to look up at him. "What do you think, Daddy?"
"I think," David said slowly, following the thread of events, "that if Valeris had had a gun, he would have been killed immediately because he would have looked much more like a threat. And that would have had some pretty nasty consequences."
"Like what? They shot him anyway. Isn't that a 'nasty consequence'?"
"It's not that simple," David answered. "The soldier that found Valeris was willing to talk to him precisely because he was unarmed. And because that soldier talked to him, he's now a friend of the aliens, an ally inside the Army base that they desperately need. That's why he let us go the night we found the pods. Imagine what would have happened if he hadn't found us first, or didn't feel the way he did. A gun would have messed all of that up, and Valeris would have died anyway."
"But...then how do you know what to do?" Dee asked, obviously perplexed. "You used your gun, and that was good....but a gun would have been bad for Valeris. How do you know if it's going to be good or bad?"
David sighed and rumpled her hair. "You don't. You just make the best decision you can with what you know at the time, and you hope for the best. And throwing in a few 'Hail Mary's' doesn't hurt either. C'mon," he added to his frowning daughter. "Into bed. We can talk about this more tomorrow."
Dee climbed off the bench and into bed, clearly unhappy with the uncertainty that was part and parcel of people's inability to see the final outcome of their actions. David really couldn't blame her. Judgment was a combination of experience and luck; for all that the former was touted as the road to success, it was often the latter that had the final say. On another night, in an even slightly different situation, that gun which had saved both Brivari and Valenti might have produced far different results.
"So did you ever find Anthony?" David asked as he tucked her into bed, not wanting to send her off to sleep right after a discussion about guns.
"Yeah. His mother said he was grounded and I couldn't see him. Something about him going somewhere without telling them." She shrugged. "I'll ask him tomorrow in school."
"Good," David said, kissing the top of her head as he turned out her light. " 'night, kiddo." She was still staring out her window, her gaze on something far way.
"Daddy?"
"Hm?"
"Mama's still mad at you, isn't she?"
"Yes."
"How long do you think she'll stay mad?"
"Not sure. But we'll figure it out. We always do. Good night."
"Daddy?"
"What?"
"I'm not mad at you."
David smiled in the darkness of the bedroom. "I know, sweetheart. Good night."
Closing the door to Dee's bedroom, David turned around and paused outside his own. Emily was in there; did that mean she wasn't going to sleep downstairs tonight? Perhaps he should try to talk to her again. She hadn't said a word to him since Brivari had left, and he knew she was feeling guilty about what he'd said about Brivari being so outnumbered. But after thinking for a moment, he decided it would be better to wait until Emily came to him. Trying to talk to her when she was angry was like talking to a wall.
The doorbell rang. David headed down the stairs, wondering who would be here at 8:30 on a Sunday night. Might be Mac, although he usually came to the side door. David flipped on the porch light, opened the door.....and stared in surprise at the face which greeted him.
"Deputy Valenti?"
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I'll post Chapter 82 next Sunday.
)
gaaahhhh I feel for him... So worried, and knowing chances of getting free are pretty low if Brivari is dead... and what about the Hybrids??? All alone there... sighs... 
His little test by breaking the glass startled me though, and I wonder if Quanah knew it had been his guest who had made that... hhhhmmmm...