The Chi Wai

By J Quinn

Nathan Sanders has always been the solution to the problems that the United States government finds itself unable to resolve, legally.His methods seldom raised questions lest the questioner became the problem.Now he is tasked with discovering the plot behind a series of seemingly unrelated events;  a submarine missing here, a satellite missing there, and the appearance of some otherworldly characters.Sanders has always solved the problem but has his ego and his latest protégé, a young woman from Honolulu, finally gotten the best of him?Not if he can help it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781646703920

Book preview

cover.jpg

The Chi Wai

J Quinn

ISBN 978-1-64670-391-3 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63814-262-1 (Hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-64670-392-0 (Digital)

Copyright © 2020 J Quinn

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books, Inc.

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Special thanks to Kim Bartys for the cover art.

Dedication

To those who encourage the best in others,

How do you describe an Angel

When no words can be found

I tried so hard to catch one

But my fears had let me down

One rocked me when I was young

Walked me through some hard times

Always loved me no matter what I’d done

I got angels on my mind.

I’ve been searching all these years

Concerts, beaches and bars

Never found one although I tried

and, man, I tried real hard

So how can I find an angel

when heavens gates are so high

but I got lucky and one found me

my angel is always on my mind

So how would I describe an angel

one who will love me for all time

a heart of gold that fills my soul

my angels on my mind.

Dedicated to my mother Joan, my sisters Kim and Teri, and my wife Sandy who inspired me on my journey through life. And a special thanks to my daughters, Bianca and Sophia, who tolerated my moods while I wrote.

Introduction

People across the world are missing. Those that search for them are never heard again. Ships, planes, and satellites vanish; and no one has a clue why—at least those that are in a position to know these things.

Nathan Sanders is one of those tasked to discover the cause of the disappearances before our way of life changes forever. In the midst of this worldwide calamity, how does a young Hawaiian woman get dragged into this puzzle, and what is her link to these events?

A Brief Glimpse of the Chi Wai

Chi Wai—A race of humanoid beings.

Ho’Chi Wai—The third tier and the people of the Chi Wai.

Fe-Chi Wai—The first of the Chi Wai. Quintin Marius (human name) Sitha So’uSandra Marius (human name) Sazha.

Ho’sun—The second tier of the Chi Wai culture. This tier carries the main responsibilities and is responsible for the guidance and traditions of the Chi Wai. It is made up of the following:

De’aco—If there are any levels at leadership, this would be considered a second level by humans (chancellors, parliament, advisers). This group serves the Fe-Chi Wai and ensures the smooth running of their culture. There are six members along with their So’u making for a total of twelve. Their color is purple.

Udet—The personal bodyguards of the Fe-Chi Wai. There are six members along with their So’u. Their color is red.

Pa’udet —The enforcers of the legal system of the Chi Wai. They are the final voice in any matter once they have been invoked, exiled ta’min (a unique punishment for the Chi Wai, which can last for days or months) and even death. Their color is blue.

A’rabor —The arbitrators of the legal, cultural, and sociological system. The fundamentals of right and wrong are strictly adhered. Honor is the foundation of the society. They are the second level protectors of the society. Their color is white.

Pa’so’u—Probably the most important and the first line of support for the Chi Wai society. They are responsible for the overall health of the people by mediating all aspects of the legal, cultural, and sociological system. They also provide education regarding the value system of the Chi Wai. The Pa’so’u suggest resolution or punishment, where all parties involved agree. Once agreed upon the parties are honor bound to comply. If unable to reach a consensus, then the matter will be resolved by the A’rabor. Their color is yellow.

Ca’rak’u—The caretakers of the life of the planet. All life but since the Ho’sun are capable of taking care of themselves, the Ca’rak’u ensure that the rest of the life is ministered. They do not interfere with nature but compliment it, especially in light of human activity. Their color is green.

Cha’al Pa’I—A new class of Chi Wai will be known as rangers, in our terminology, or seekers. Cha’al Pa’I, a rough translation, means those that hunt for the pearl. It really means those that are looking for the best hearts and minds inherent in all people. They have no color associated with them because they are open to all who wish to join the Chi Wai, not necessarily those to achieve the rank of Ho’sun.

Fe—Meaning the first or the one responsible for a group. Fe-udet means the one responsible for the bodyguards. That one would be accountable for the group and its actions.

So’u—All of the Ho’sun are mated pairs. Each pairing is similar to what humans call soul mates. Their interaction goes much deeper and culminates in that the pairing holds equality in their positions. For instance, the Fe-udet consist of two individuals; each one is equally Fe through their bond as So’u. Each are Fe and are first for the Udet; each holds equal responsibilities for this position. More importantly, each is honor bound to each other, to the Fe-Chi Wai, and to the Chi Wai.

Ta’ina—The sociological value is rather simple for the Chi Wai. All contribute to the good. What this means is that in order to be Chi Wai, you must pull your own weight. To own anything, to eat, basically to exist with the Chi Wai, you must contribute in some manner to the welfare of all. There is no begging, welfare, or poor members of society. How you live is entirely based on what you do. For those who follow this simple philosophy, there are no needs. For those who do not, well, the Ho’sun will quickly remedy the problem. There are no taxes and no laws except for two. Live an honorable life and contribute to the welfare of the Chi Wai.

May 24, 2030

Boring. Boring. That is how Dennis described this night. He stood and stretched and, like all men, scratched, poked, and prodded himself back into a comfortable position. He then rearranged and shifted the items on his gun belt so that the weight rested more comfortably on his hips.

Yes, Dennis still had hips. Unlike most other capital police officers who saw nothing wrong with a little pooch, Dennis was a runner and kept himself slim and trim. Most would call him lanky, others would just say he was downright skinny. If he was a woman, some would even say that he had an eating disorder. He made up for his critics by having all of his uniforms custom tailored and slightly modified or, as his friends would say padded, only to mollify the jerks that were his friends.

I would rather be a runner, he thought out loud, than a bunch of overweight has-been jocks like them. Besides, he mused, and like most of his contemporaries who were clueless, if they keep harassing me, I am going to file a grievance.

He shrugged nonchalantly and let out an exasperated sigh. He glanced at the clock just above the monitors and noted that the time was 6:59 p.m. He then reached over and picked up his daily log clipboard and then sighed and shrugged, Why me, as the pen on top of the clipboard clattered to the floor. Dennis bent over and retrieved the errant pen, stood, and attempted to write the time on the next line of his logbook. Why does this always happen to me? he thought as he scribbled furiously on a scratch piece of paper praying with each stroke that the pen, his favorite, would be healed from the grievous injury sustained in its fall. He was still scribbling furiously when the scuffing sound at the door finally registered in his brain.

***

Even before he was Fe-udet, the capitol police officer hunched over a pad scribbling maniacally would barely have massed even one of his muscular thighs. Okay, two, but he was a skinny runt with acne and a cold as well. As Fe-udet, much less any udet, he was not critiquing the officer’s physical appearance, merely evaluating the potential conflict that would occur if and when the officer noticed his presence.

He looked over his shoulder at his charge, barely discernible in the bright lights of the gatehouse. Even to his own heightened senses, his charge seemed to shimmer and barely register on this plane of existence. He reported his observations to his charge, and even this conversation went unheard by the officer. Though this was not surprising since the manner in which they communicated was beyond the ability of the humans to detect.

While Fe-udet reported, he unnecessarily glanced at the other five udet surrounding his charge. Though he could have, his liege did not castigate him. They were all new to being Ho’sun, much less udet. Fe-udet turned back to the oblivious officer, who was now muttering, Come on, come on, as he continued in vain to get his pen working, encouraged by a faint trace of black ink in the heavily indented scratch paper.

"Yes!" He exclaimed. Dennis raised his arms in triumph and stood posed like a referee confirming a touchdown at a football game. His exuberance faded quickly, although he remained frozen in his victorious stance, as he stared at the black aberration barely framed in the light of the doorway. His pen clattered to the floor. His mind whirled. Madness flared, ran rampant, and then retreated.

Fe-udet had rarely been surprised in his life, but the antics of this officer did, especially a capitol police officer on duty at the front gates of the White House who would behave as unprofessional as this one did. Truly, Fe-udet was inexperienced in dealing with law enforcement personnel and, never, by any stretch of his imagination, did he expect this. In another life, he would have wished for a video camera and watch the hits pile up on YouTube. In this life… Fe-udet stepped forward and disabled the officer’s handgun and returned to his relaxed position before the officer’s brain registered the movement.

Madness raged again. Every science fiction movie Dennis had ever watched raced through his brain. Images of alien invaders, demons, and other horrors flicked through his eyes as he attempted to categorize the figure standing before him. Humanoid, but vaguely so. Ethereal and slightly blurred, the forms image was blurry like, like a 3-D movie watched without the glasses. There were no discernible facial features. The body was completely enclosed in what Dennis thought was armor, the likes of which he had never seen. The only thing that really stood out was on the figure’s left shoulder. A small portion of the left shoulder glowed a blood red hue, something he should have noticed earlier. And every once in a while, a flicker from its right shoulder seemed to produce the same blood red hue.

Crap! He was not sure if he had spoken to rescue his bravado or made a simple statement of what his body may have done. Either way, he had finally realized that he probably should take some type of action.

And here it comes, thought Fe-udet. Two years of training had led up to this point, but nothing could compare to the real thing. In his altered state, his senses, tens of times more efficient and effective than a normal human, evaluated every aspect of the officer as he remained standing with arms upraised. Every monitor and every blinking light had been noted and the information passed on to the other udet. The shocked look and the tense posture of the officer, as well as elevated bio signs—well, it did not take a genius to know what was going to happen next. As the officer began to reach for his gun, Fe-udet let his training takeover and…

***

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God… Dennis muttered under his breath like a mantra. The only thing worse than someone doing nothing is someone doing too much. With an acrid smell accompanying his now damp trousers, Dennis, at least in his mind, immediately reached for the Glock holstered at his side. With the precision of a dedicated professional and years of combat tactics he cleared the Glock from its holster in milliseconds and had it pointed center mass on this…uh…guy, yelling Freeze!

In reality, well, nothing is really as it seems. Dennis simultaneously reached his left hand for the radio mic attached to his left shoulder, and his right hand went for his weapon. He keyed his mic and, at the same time, realized he was still holding the clipboard in his right hand. Still muttering, Oh my God, his voice, pitchy and cracking, began another mantra of, Crap, crap, crap, being clearly broadcasted over the radio.

Dennis turned and placed the clipboard on the desktop, fumbled with the safety snaps on his holster, and eventually withdrew his semi-automatic pistol and pointed it at the apparition. His mantra ceased with a bellowing Freeze! still being transmitted over the air. The click of the hammer falling against the firing pin echoed in the sudden silence.

***

Fe-udet followed his training and orders to the letter. As the officer pointed his weapon at Fe-udet and squeezed the trigger while yelling freeze, Fe-udet calmly remained precisely where he was. There were no reasons to react to an attack which would never succeed. There were two reasons for his surety; the reaction of the police officer was one of many that had been anticipated and that the officer’s weapon had long since been disabled. Even had the weapon been able to fire, the round could not have penetrated the armor that he wore. In fact, Fe-udet could not think of any weapon on this planet that could breach his armor or its phase shift generator. The only danger that the capitol officer’s weapon presented was that the discharged round would more likely create a harsh image of the udet once the political spin on this incident began.

In following his orders, Fe-udet simply stated, with a smile that the officer could not see, Take me to your leader. The humor he felt from his liege never ceased to amaze him.

Incredulity flashed through the mind of another capitol police officer assigned to the control center at the White House. Initially, she was bemused by the antics exhibited by Dennis at the front gates guardhouse. She had always thought he was a character but was never curious enough to question how he remained in the service. Anyone this messed up could only make it this far with a well-placed guardian angel, she thought aloud. Someone or someones that I prefer not to meet because I complained about their little pet, she finished.

His antics became more agitated, leading up to some furious scribbling on his pad, which led to him throwing his hands in the air in what looked like victory. As she watched him, wishing she could record this for the higher-ups, she saw a change in his demeanor, one that froze him in place. She then watched as Dennis, with the comical jerkiness of a marionette puppet, fumbled with his lapel mic and drew his gun.

Simultaneously, everyone else with a radio also knew something was up as Crap was broadcasted over and over again with a sudden loud Freeze at the end.

Oh, this one is going to make him a legend, she thought with glee. She stabbed at the mic on the desk in front of her and stated, Charlie-seven and Charlie-eight, proceed over to the front guardhouse and check on the status of Charlie-one. I am not sure what’s going on, but he has his weapon out and trained at the door. Use caution and apprise base when you determine what’s going on.

Ten-four, responded Charlie seven and Charlie eight.

As she awaited the update from the two units she dispatched, Angie scanned the monitors that had views of the front gate house. Based on the monitors, nothing seemed to be amiss. She zoomed in on Dennis and immediately knew one of two things. Either Dennis, who almost always wore an expression of a six-year-old in a candy store, had flipped his lid or…

Angie furiously stabbed at the extension for her supervisor.

Uh…base? crackled over the radio. Dry and trembling like a mouth full of sand, Dennis’s voice eerily called out over the radio.

At the same moment, a voice answered on the other side of the phone line, Sergeant Agno.

Stand by, Sergeant, but I want you to listen in on this.

She depressed the mic switch. Go ahead, Charlie-one, she stated.

Dennis fidgeted, not sure how to proceed. This being, for lack of a better word, would not comply with his instructions yet showed no hostility. He had drawn his gun as a primal reaction at being surprised and at the being’s appearance. Full of sharp edges, hooks, talons, and teeth, Dennis was sure he could be ripped to pieces in the blink of an eye had the being showed the slightest inclination. The being in the doorway shifted slowly to its left, and Dennis’s eyes widened as he made out several more in a semi-circle outside the guardhouse. Well, he mused and, with a trace of humor, finished with, if they want my leader, I hope Sergeant Agno makes them a good meal.

Fe-udet heard a simple command from his liege. Show them.

Dennis was not a sci-fi fan. His imagination was much more mundane. But he was a video game junkie and spent most of his off-duty hours glued to his Xbox 360. He felt he was in one of the shoot-them-up games right now but would need a BFG to survive this mission. Since he did not have one…

Uh, base? Charlie-one. I think Sergeant Agno should get out here right now. As he spoke, the being in the doorway moved slightly, which caused Dennis to focus as best he could on it. With no other movement and no sound, the blurred visage melded into a crisp, sharp figure even more dangerous looking than before. The being’s arms moved slightly out from its side, with the palms facing Dennis. Not wanting to meet his maker, at least until he had the joy of his sergeant meeting them first, Dennis re-holstered his handgun and finished with Now! over the radio.

What the heck is going on! demanded Sergeant Agno.

When only silence greeted his question, he yelled out, Angie, answer me!

Angie stood, staring slack-jawed at the apparition that suddenly appeared in her monitors and stood only a few feet from Dennis. She watched as Dennis, seemingly nonchalantly, put his weapon away and, over the radio, asked firmly for Sergeant Agno. The thing’s body language seemed to suggest nonaggression, but only in her nightmares had she imagined a thing such as this. With a start, she realized her sergeant was increasingly irate, as was his nature, and demanding she answer him. Better him than me, She thought. Sergeant, I cannot explain, but it’s imperative that you take a look at monitor 1A. Charlie-one is requesting your immediate presence.

What the… Angie heard over the line which then clicked in silence. Through another monitor, Angie watched the sergeant storm out of his office with his hat in his hand. Charlie-seven and Charlie-eight, we have an unsub at the guard house with Charlie-one. Still not sure what’s going on, but be careful.

Base, Charlie-seven, Charlie-eight, and I are approaching the guardhouse now. Charlie-seven, or Matt, as his friends called him, and Charlie-eight, also known as…well, Charlie, had approached the gate from the southeast, giving them a good vantage point of the front gate at the entrances to it. Matt and Charlie were also more heavily armed, being the first responders to any major incidents at the White House. Both were also seasoned veterans of the Afghanistan and Iraqi wars.

As a team, they went into overwatch, with Matt leading. With his senses on alert, Matt approached to within twenty meters of the guardhouse, scanning for intruders other than the unsub, although Angie should have warned them if there were any others. At fifteen meters, Matt signaled to Charlie that he had the unsub in sight. Who or what is that? he thought to himself. He began to signal to Charlie to continue a slow advance when a hand grasped his shoulder and squeezed twice.

Matt froze. Charlie sidled up to him and pointed to the left of the guardhouse. Matt followed his extended finger but couldn’t see anything. He then shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands as if saying, What?

Charlie leaned in even closer, if that was possible, and whispered, There are at least four more of them. They are in a rough circle near the gatehouse and real tough to see. Even though it seems like they’re standing still…well, I am having a tough time focusing on them.

Matt looked back toward the gatehouse and slowly scanned the area indicated by Charlie. You would think that, at less than twenty meters, he could have spotted a mouse and shot its tail off, but he had a difficult time discerning the shapes in front of the shack. Eventually, and with agreement from Charlie, he determined that there were six more unsubs standing out front. One seemed to stand out, although Matt could not really say why, and was positioned near the center of the others. In relation to the unsub at the doorway, the five others formed a circle about five meters in diameter around the sixth.

Friends of yours? Charlie asked Matt. Are these the guests that you were expecting?

Matt looked over at Charlie and shrugged. Truthfully, I didn’t expect anything to happen until tomorrow, so there’s only one way to find out. If you don’t mind, I’d like to find out how we always do—by observing. Matt and Charlie then sat and watched the subjects standing near the gate house.

As they settled to watch, Matt made a quick call to Angie on his cell phone. When she answered, he simply told her, Do me a favor and no questions please. Notify Colonel Macey that I think our guests have arrived.

Bodyguards, came to Matt’s mind after a couple minutes. So the one in the middle is the boss or leader, he rationalized. He signaled to Charlie, who nodded his agreement. Blurry or not, Matt continued to observe the individuals and noted that their movements seemed choreographed. If the central figure moved, the others likewise moved to maintain the exact same perimeter. Matt slowly squeezed the key on his mic. As he did so, the perimeter guards, as he believed they were, shifted slightly, blocking his view of the central figure. Base, Charlie-seven. It appears that there are a total of seven unsubs at and around the guardhouse. No sign of aggression nor have they attempted entry onto the premises. However, request Marine detachment prepared.

Charlie-seven, base. Copy last. Sergeant en route. POTUS in residence. Should I notify SS head?

Matt reached for his mic to tell Angie to notify the Secret Service of this event but was brusquely cut off by a clearly irritated Sergeant Agno. Hold on, I’m almost at the guardhouse and will let you know. Clearly, the Sergeant was not seeing the big picture, thought Matt, Charlie, Angie, and just about every other person privy to the encrypted chatter on the radio.

And you idiots, what are you dawdling over there for? shrilled Sergeant Agno as he stormed toward Matt and Charlie. He continued on past them toward the front gate, harshly reprimanding them with, Get off your behinds and follow me. Matt and Charlie shrugged at each other, stood up, and followed after the sergeant. At a discreet distance, still in overwatch, just in case. And you never know. Maybe, just maybe, if there was trouble, they would have the pleasure of watching the sergeant be taken out first.

The sergeant seemed oblivious, at least to Matt, of the seven figures now in front of the guardhouse until he was nearly upon them. Even as the sergeant approached, Matt saw the sixth figure move from the guardhouse to a position directly in front of the sergeant while the rest repositioned themselves in that disquieting circular dance around the central figure. Matt still could not figure out why the seventh figure was so easily discerned while the rest maintained an ethereal quality.

Matt considered what little information he had gleaned from his observations up to this point. First, it was clear that these people, for lack of a better description of exactly what they were, were not psychos, aberrants, misfits, or other weirdos out for a nighttime stroll. Second, their sudden appearance at the guard shack implied stealth or other preternaturally methods, because their physical appearance would have sounded alarms with the local police as half the population would have been scared crapless as this menagerie paraded down the public streets. Thirdly, their orchestrated or disciplined behavior implied much more than a high school marching band. And finally—well, not really finally, for he had a lot more questions than answers—their uniformly nightmarish appearance. To Matt’s way of thinking, they must be wearing a type of body armor that he had never seen or believed possible.

He shared his ideas with Charlie, who nodded stoically. I was thinking along the same lines, Matt. But body armor? Nah, something much worse. And I mean that in a good way.

Charlie continued, What do you think of the one that was in the guard shack, Scout?

Matt ruminated for a moment and then uttered, I don’t think so. More of a front man. The one in the middle seems to be in charge, so I take it that his number two is our friend there, nodding and gesturing toward the prominent black form blocking their sergeants way. I know this much though. I pray he—indicating the sergeant—does not piss them off.

Fe-udet recognized the haste in the long strides of an impatient man. A man who liked to abuse his authority as evident in the treatment of his subordinates. His downward cast eyes and perpetual scowl hinted at a deeper darkness within. So morose was he, engrossed in his own self-worth, that he failed to notice Fe-udet until he was nearly upon him. Fe-udet could hear the sergeant muttering curses under his breath and rambling about the inadequacies of his officers. If you want something done right, you got to do it… Sergeant Agno stopped just short of Fe-udet like he had run into a brick wall. A short man, barely five feet, four inches, Agno’s gaze shifted from the chest up toward the head of Fe-udet. His jaw appeared elongated as his mouth hung open, which Matt later likened to a Venus flytrap.

The stink of fear exuded from the sergeant’s pores. His eyes dilated in a primal scream from an insane soul and then constricted in anger as his Napoleonic urges came to the front. He snapped his mouth shut, spittle flying. Who do you think you are? he ranted. One way to control fear was to attack. His father had taught him that. You in your childish halloween costume. Get out of here before I lock your sorry excuse of a man up. The sergeant clearly had not noticed the other udet nearby.

He is a small man of little importance, Fe-udet heard his liege saying. One who abuses life as well as power. He is of little consequence, but his foolishness may impede us. Choose another.

It took a moment for Sergeant Agno to realize that his curses and threats were directed to, well…nothing. In the blink of an eye, he had gone from dressing down another cretin to being made to look like an imbecile that should be locked up in an asylum. His anger flared further, and he looked about for the target that was causing this mess. As his head and eyes shifted to the left and right, he suddenly realized that more of these monstrosities stood around him. Weak kneed, he fumbled for the lifeline of his radio mic.

Wow, Dennis had seen the sergeant go off on a tirade before, but it actually seemed as though he was about to blow a fuse. Spittle flecked at the corner of his lips, and his cheeks grew heated as they flared crimson with blood. His eyes bulged, and his mouth gasped like a weird goldfish stranded outside its bowl. He then saw the sergeant reach for his lapel mic.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dennis thought he saw shadowy figures flicker even more so than normal, if this was normal. One shadow seemed to flicker toward the sergeant, and another just seemed to disappear. Dennis stood straighter. Maturity finally seemed to have taken root. He squared his shoulders and noted that, where seven had stood before, only five remained. He also realized that there was a slight difference in these beings. Aside from his earlier panicky observations, he retrieved his clipboard and began documenting his current observations. His first notation detailed that, although they each wore identical nightmarish armor (he put a question mark next to the word armor), they varied in size from about 6 to 6 and a half feet. The central figure, as well as the first one he had met, appeared to be the tallest. They all seemed fit and muscular but seemed to mass, on the average, more than a proportional human male. He also noted that, while those that formed a perimeter around the central figure sported a reddish colored left shoulder, kind of like a sash that began at the area of the epaulets and extended in a slashing V shape to the center of the abdomen (although he also noted that their right shoulders sometimes flickered red), the central figure’s shoulders, both the left and the right, showed similar slashes but in numerous colors, of which white predominated.

Where the V shape joined just below what would be a human’s belly button, Dennis noticed a buckle-like object with a serpentine figure on it. He was too far away to make out any other details.

Dennis then saw the sergeant grab his lapel mic and shout something into the radio. Although Dennis heard the sergeants raised voice, he couldn’t quite make out what was being said. But what was odd was that Dennis’s radio never broke squelch. Even though the perimeter figures had shifted positions, he noted that one stood between the sergeant and the central figure, but all of them seemed to ignore the sergeant, their bodies postured indifferently. Dennis looked back over his shoulder and noticed the two other figures approaching Charlie-seven and Charlie-eight.

Man, they move fast Charlie-seven exclaimed to Charlie-eight. Both he and Charlie reflexively brought their automatic weapons to bear on the approaching duo. They had closed to within a few meters before Matt and Charlie had noticed their movement and neither one thought their weapons would do much good. The two had stopped and spread their arms slightly outward from their bodies, with their palms facing forward. To Matt, it appeared that they were indicating a nonaggressive, nonthreatening pose. They seemed to be waiting on him.

Matt looked over the duo at the other five by the guard shack. As animated as the sergeant was, the five completely ignored him and also seemed to be waiting. Matt was momentarily confused. The two that stood in front of him could obviously have done whatever they wanted to. Yet they stood silent, although Matt knew that the second one clearly supported the first, just like Charlie had Matt’s back. Matt felt like he was drowning; he was in the way over his head. Of all the times you have an incompetent supervisor, Matt thought and shook his head. He turned toward Charlie and said, Someone’s got to step up to the plate, and it might as well be me. Watch my back, buddy, and he nodded at Charlie with a slight smile. He keyed his mic but dispensed with formalities. Angie, the sarge seems indisposed. Notify the Secret Service and give them a heads-up about what’s going on out here. Tell them not to be cowboys and that I have this under control so far.

Will do, he heard her reply. And be careful.

Matt lowered his weapon and removed his hands from the stock and trigger. Charlie lowered his weapon as well but kept his hands where they were the most comfortable, right where he could dispense pain if he had to.

A worthy one, my liege. Fe-udet thought.

We shall see, he heard in reply. Deal with