Jason struggled with the control yoke to keep his small ship level under the power of only one thruster. Unlike a dedicated aircraft with its large wings and the associated control surfaces, the small spaceship had almost no ability to compensate for thrust being applied to only one side of the craft. The only option left to him to prevent the craft from spinning uncontrollably was to power the remaining engine down to minimum and pull the yoke as far in the opposite direction as possible. This had the unfortunate side effect that they were plummeting downward at an alarming rate.

Rick and Linda staggered into the cockpit as the craft pitched and lurched. They just made it to the copilot's seat as shell off to their port sides rocking them once again. Rick, being much stronger, grasped the back of the chair with one hand and held the woman upright with his other. When the worst of the turbulence abated, he hauled Linda into the free seat, while steadying himself behind it.

Back in the engine room Sarah grasped the engine housing for dear life as the ship lurched violently. With her free hand she grasped her diagnostic screen, keeping it from skittering off into the corner. From the readout, she could clearly see the problem, but had no idea how to fix it. The engine had gone into auto shutdown, likely from a piece of shrapnel having gotten imbedded in the intake compressor manifold. The most recent disturbance subsiding, she took a chance and let got of her precarious hold on the engine. Dancing her fingers across the keyboard, she cut cockpit control to the engine, and then inverted the engines orientation. As the raging winds outside blew backward through the turbine she waited for any telltale signs that the obstruction had cleared. She prayed it would be something obvious, as Kaylee had not had a chance to cover very much on the twin turbines that controlled atmospheric flight.

Up in the cockpit, Jason noticed the white contrail of another surface to air missile streak skyward toward his ship as he fought to keep the ship level. Throttling more power to the remaining engine, the Shire tumbled violently over to one side as the missile streaked harmlessly past the stricken craft. Rick, standing behind the copilot’s seat, would have been thrown to the floor if not for Linda reaching out and grabbing his arm.

The missile evaded, Jason now had the task of regaining control of the plummeting craft. There was no way he would be able to evade another volley with the deteriorated control of the vessel. With grim resignation he watched as twin red flashes from a nearby mountainside hailed the approach of the next attack.

Linda felt helpless as she watched Jason try to regain control of his ship. The significance of the red flashed on the ground where not lost on her as she sat strapped in the copilot's seat. She had not prayed in a very long time, but now, as she sat strapped helplessly into the copilot’s seat, she silently gave thanks that her son would not be here to die with her.

The ship shuddered violently and Sarah was flung across the room, the back of her head impacting painfully on the bulkhead. She was just barely able to maintain control of the diagnostic console. Looking at the readout, she suddenly saw what she was waiting for. The turbine had begun spinning freely from the back draft. Struggling to her feet she hit the intercom.

Jason fought to stabilize the craft, ignoring the twin contrails that streaked toward them. His mind raced in search of an escape plan. “Think I might be able to give you quarter power on the starboard thruster in about two seconds,” said Sarah’s voice over the intercom.

“Think we’re gonna need a bit more than that,” replied Jason.

“Best yer gonna get. Looks like some debris got sucked into the turbine and tore up a few of the compressor blades,” said Sarah. “Push it more than that and it’ll gut itself.”

Jason was about to respond but then felt the sudden surge of power as the starboard thruster came back on line, albeit at the reduced performance. It was just in time. Throttling the good engine to full, the craft lurched forward to evade the pair of rockets as two explosions once again rocked them from behind. The ordeal was by no means over, however, as red blossoms of fire signaled the approach of the next volley of missiles.

The radio crackled to life and Jason found himself addressed by an unfamiliar voice. “Cargo transport Willowbrook Shire, do you copy?”

Jason looked over at Rick and Linda who looked back in equal confusion. “Well, might was well answer them,” said Jason. “I’m a bit busy at the moment.”

“This is Willowbrook Shire,” said Linda into the radio.

“Looks like you’ve found yourself a little bit of trouble,” said the mysterious voice. “Prepare for escort back to base.”

Jason again shared a surprised look with his two crewmates. Just then, the forms of two sleek aircraft appeared on either side of their ship, each flying the colors of the Alliance of Planets. Opening bomb bay doors, the two craft began dropping chaff that soon confused the approaching missiles which exploded harmlessly below and behind them. The craft off to their starboard side pealed off into a dive and began dropping several cylindrical objects out of its belly. As the bombs disappeared below, the hillsides began erupting into rolling walls of fire.

Linda suppressed a wave of nausea as she realized that she was actually relieved to see the Alliance fighter jets. Jason suppressed his own wave of nausea as just for a second, the back of his mind picked up the pain and suffering of hundreds of hidden Independent solders dying in the inferno.

Within minutes, the rolling forested hills below them gave way to the endless grasslands that made up most of the planet called New Shadow. The terrain below them was now a patchwork of wild grasses dotted with grazing cattle interspersed with the geometric shapes of cultivated fields of cereal grains. As neither gave any cover to ground troops, the remainder of their approach was mercifully peaceful as they approached the Alliance military base.

As soon as the Shire landed within the walls of the Alliance base, they where besieged by anxious soldiers. Rick lowered the cargo doors and Jason soon greeted a smiling base commander.

“Greetings captain, welcome to Fort Halamo, I’m Commander Baldwin. I can’t tell you how good it is to see you.”

“I’m honored, commander,” replied Jason. “Does every cargo ship get such a warm welcome?”

“Every one that gets through,” said the Alliance officer. “Not many make it the past two months. Tell you the truth, we though you were done for when you lost your starboard engine.”

Bloody hell thought Jason, inwardly cursing both Captain Reynolds and Commander Winters. They must have both known it would be this dangerous and yet failed to tell him.

“Good thing I got the second best mechanic in the ‘Verse,” Jason lied, as he faked a smile. Or was it a lie? In reality, he was wondering just how the hell Sarah had managed to pull it off. By all rights and laws of statistics, the lot of them should be dead.

Sarah, now assured that it was safe to leave, quickly exited the ship to examine the damage to the external thruster. Looking inside the powered down turbine, she could see several baldly torn and bent blades. With her hands on her forehead she let out a groan of exasperation. It had only been a few hours since Jason had declared her a member of the crew and she was already faced with a problem she had no idea how to fix.

“What seems to be the trouble there, little miss,” asked an unfamiliar voice.

“Turbine compressor’s all tore up,” replied Sarah, turning to see who had spoken. “Who’re you?”

“Name’s Lewis, Corporal Casey Lewis at you service, and that sort of thing is right in my department. I’m senior aircraft mechanic for the base.”

“I’m Sarah, sorta the mechanic by default for this tub. Don’t mind me say’in but don't you seem a bit young to be senior mechanic.”

“Inherited the title, as you say, by default. I’m the only mechanic what ain’t been killed yet. And if you don't mind me saying, you’re about the prettiest mechanic I think I’ve ever seen in my twenty two years.”

Sarah blushed at the complement. The other mechanic wasn’t quite as swai as Jason, but he was certainly no troll, and he had noticed her for a woman, which was always a big plus in her book.

Back in the cargo bay, Commander Baldwin turned to his men, “All right lads, let’s get this stuff unloaded.” At this command, at least a dozen soldiers hurried forward and began hauling crates out of the cargo bay.

“Looks like we got ice cream mates, and fresh coffee!” exclaimed one of the soldiers, eliciting another round of cheers.

Commander Baldwin smiled at Jason, “You’ll have to forgive my men. These past few months they’ve known little more than reprocessed protein rations. The simple things of life are viewed as quite the luxury on this base.”

“No need to explain,” replied Jason as he looked over the bedraggled men. Many were clearly injured and they all looked badly in need of sleep and food. “Anyone’s sailed the black knows protein rations all to well. Is this all your men? I would have expected more on a base this size.”

The commander sighed. “We had two hundred before the uprising. Now we are down to only seventy.”

“I didn’t see any forces in the surrounding area though, just rolling fields and grasslands,” said Jason.

“They come out of the hills at night and fire on us with mortars. Near a hundred Alliance ships are above us right now blockading the planet. Despite that, the bloody parliament doesn’t even have the balls to either send down reinforcements for fear of sparking another all out war with the other border worlds, or the compassion enough to evacuate us for fear of it looking like a retreat.”

Jason thought back to Linda’s story about Serenity Valley after the end of the first war. Apparently the Alliance politicians didn’t discriminate on side when it came to leaving men to die for their own cowardice. Thinking of Linda, he looked back at the woman to check and make sure she was not about to do something stupid. Her expression was unreadable however, perhaps even thoughtful as she listened to Jason talk with the base commander. It was not often one got to truly meet their enemy he supposed. The grim truth was that if they succeeded in their mission, it would likely be the death knell for these men.

After watching the men unload in silence for several minutes, the base Commander Baldwin excused himself to attend to other responsibilities. Jason looked around for Sarah and found the young woman already at work on the starboard thruster. He found one of the soldiers from the base with her, apparently providing technical assistance. They already had the turbine fairing open and were in the process of removing what looked like several damaged blades. He watched for several minutes as the young woman soaked up every word that the soldier, apparently also a mechanic, was saying.

“How longs the repair going to take,” Jason asked, while looking questioningly at the young man working wit h her.

“Better part of a day. If you want it done right,” replied the soldier as he hopped down to greet Jason. “Names Lewis, Corporal Casey Lewis, Senior Mechanic.” The young man extended his hand.

“Jason Libby,” replied Jason as he shook his hand.

“I have some spare parts back at the hanger. Hopefully we should be able to get your ship flying by this evening. Just after dark is your best chance for getting out, before the shelling starts that is.”

“Well I appreciate your help, Corporal,” said Jason, feeling more than a little guilty for accepting the assistance of men he was about to double cross.

“Anything for the man that brings us ice cream and fresh coffee,” replied the soldier.

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That evening the mood on the base seemed almost festive, though Jason and his crew were somewhat subdued as the hung back by their ship. The sun had just sunk below the horizon and the dim light of dusk was fading fast as Sarah and Corporal Lewis finally came up to Jason to inform him that they had repaired the damaged thruster.

“Thanks for everything, Casey,” said Sarah. Jason felt a flash of jealously as he watched the young woman kiss the young corporal on the cheek. Lewis blushed at the proffered affection.

“You take good care of this pretty little thing, Captain Libby,” said Corporal Lewis.

“Right,” replied Jason a little more gruffly than usual. “Thank you for your help. Come on Sarah, all aboard.” The sooner they got out of here the better, being on this base was spawning all manner of unpleasant emotions. Sarah looked back at her new friend one last time and waved as she closed the ramp.

Spreading the word to the rest of his small crew was easy as Rick and Linda were both already in the kitchen. The two of them were both unusually quiet, and just nodded as he informed them that they were leaving.

In the cockpit, Jason started the warm-up procedure for the newly repaired turbines, and then turned to the radio. He was just about to contact the base control tower and let them know of their imminent departure when a mortar exploded not fifty feet from the small ship.

“Da-shiong bao-jah-shr duh la doo-tze,” growled Jason in frustration as he flipped switches and powered up the engines. Across the parade field from the landing pad he could see the soldiers pouring out of their mess hall toward the base’s concrete bomb shelters. Jason winced slightly as he watched another mortar exploded in the midst of the running soldiers, flinging several men through the air like rag dolls. With his attention split between his piloting tasks and the grizzly scene outside, Jason barely noticed as drawn by the commotion, his three crewmates crowded into the cockpit behind him.

“We gonna make it outa here?” asked Rick.

“Doing my best,” replied Jason “should be in the air in a few seconds.”

“Wait,” said Linda, pointing at the sky where tracer bullets could be seen streaking through the air. “That’s anti-aircraft fire. We’ll be cut to shreds.”

“Ain’t no worse’n if we get hit by one of those mortars just sitting here,” replied Sarah.

“Gorramit!” yelled Jason, slamming his fist onto the console. They had been too late in getting away by mere minutes. He took a moment to calm himself and then thought on their options. “We’ll have to fly out under the anti-aircraft fire. It’s our only choice.”

“We still got that wall to go over,” said Rick, pointing at the base’s tall ramparts. The tracer fire could be seen streaking what looked like mere inches above the concrete embankment.

Just then, a section of the concrete rampart on the opposite side of the base exploded. As the dust settled, a gaping hole could be seen in the wall. A dozen brown coated soldiers streamed through the breached defenses. About half were cut down by automatic riffle fire from the Alliance soldiers before the remainder took up positions behind various pieces of debris. The surviving Browncoats began laying down cover fire, which allowed another wave of invaders to rush into the base.

“I guess that’s it then,” said Jason, sliding back in his seat. “We just wait for the base to be overrun, and then hand over the information.” Somehow the fact that they were working for the now winning side did little to minimize the gruesomeness of war. At the back of his mind, Jason could again feel the pain of the wounded and dying, but he pushed it from his consciousness; there was nothing that could be done.

“Uh, Jay,” Rick said in suddenly panicked voice and slapping him on the shoulder. “I think they’re gonna shoot at us.”

Everyone looked where Rick was pointing to see several Independent solders taking aim at the Shire. They all covered their faces as a barrage of bullet began peppering the cockpit window and the surrounding hull plating.

After a few seconds, they realized they were all still alive and uninjured and lowered their arms. “Just small arms fire,” yelled Linda over the racket as bullets continued pinging of the exterior of the craft, unable to puncture either the thick windows or the hull. After a few seconds the soldiers gave up their futile assault and the staccato noise ceased.

“Uh oh,” said Rick. “Hey Linda, what’s that big thing they are setting up and pointing at us?”

“Ta me duh!” exclaimed the woman. “That’s not small arms. Jason, get us the hell out of here now!”

Luckily, the ship was already powered up and responded immediately as Jason pulled back on the control yoke. With few options open, he pushed forward on the yoke and the small ship lurched toward their would-be assailants. The independent soldiers dove for cover as the low flying ship sped past overhead, causing their brown coats to billow in the back draft as it sped through the breach in the rampart.

The anti-aircraft fire moved to track the escaping cargo ship and before they could make a clean get away several heavy slugs could be heard thudding into the back of the ship with impacts that shook the entire craft. Over the next few seconds, everyone in the small cockpit held their breaths as they hoped that nothing vital had been hit. Jason finally maneuvered the ship behind a low hill, blocking it from the line of fire.

The fields and grasslands that surrounded the base turned out to be surprisingly hilly, the surface of the planet rising and falling in gentle waves of grasses and grains. The terrain worked to their advantage as Jason carefully piloted the Shire between the low hills along the path of a dry stream bed. Within minutes, the gentle hills of the grasslands gave way to higher forested hillsides and mountains. After a few more minutes of flying, Jason selected what appeared in the growing darkness to be a small clearing where he set down the ship.

Once on the ground, the small crew exited their ship to assess their surroundings. Outside the ship, they could still hear the distant sound of gunfire and explosions from miles away where the Alliance base was still under attack. After about half an hour, even those sounds of war subsided, the base having likely finally fallen to the Independent forces.

“That’s it then,” said Linda. “This planet is now totally under the control of the Independents. All we need to do is to find someone to hand the data over to, then get out.”

“Dunno if it's that simple. It didn’t look like they knew we were on their side,” said Jason. “Don’t exactly think we can go back there unless we wanna get shot at again. Sure woulda been nice if Reynolds had given us a proper contact to find.”

“Been too cut off, Alliance always had good jamming technology,” said Linda. “The resistance here on Shadow probably doesn’t even know that the data was stolen, much less that a copy is on its way to them.”

Jason sighed and looked out into now impenetrable darkness of the forest. “Alright, in the morning you and Rick are going on a little hike to find anyone you can. There has to be somebody out here as the hills didn't just fire those rockets at us on their own. Sarah and I will stay back and make sure the ship wasn’t seriously damaged, and repair anything that needs it. For now, let’s all try and get some sleep. But first, I want everything on this ship powered down so there are no heat or light signatures.”

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The next morning everyone woke early, none of them having slept especially well. After a quick breakfast of protein rations, Linda and Rick set out into the hills. Linda led the way, suggesting that some distant cliffs might be a suitable location for bunkers. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was the best they had.

After they left, Sarah and Jason discovered several punctures though the hull that had been rent by the anti-aircraft fire. Luckily, nothing more critical than a few secondary hydraulic lines were hit, and Sarah set to work on these. The holes still needed to be patched before leaving atmo, however, so Jason dragged out the welding torch and set to work.

By early afternoon, Linda and Rick had made it to the base of the cliffs that they saw earlier that morning. After looking around it became apparent that there had never been anything entrenched there except perhaps some hibernating animals during the colder months. The higher ground, did however, give them an excellent opportunity to survey the surrounding wilderness. After a moment taking in the view, Rick pointed out what appeared to be smoke rising from amidst the trees about a mile down the mountainside from where they were standing. Checking their bearing with a compass, they set out in that direction.

“Shouldn’t we have seen something by now,” asked Rick, two hours later as they trudged through the forest.

“Maybe,” replied Linda, “or maybe not so much, if they don’t wanna be seen.” Linda leaned down to examine the ground. There were no obvious signs of a campsite, but the ground had been disturbed, as if by a number of people walking through. “Let’s head this way,” she said, choosing the direction that the tracks seemed to lead.

They walked for another half hour before finding anything else, or rather before anything found them. “Hold it right there,” said a voice from behind them. “Turn around nice and slow, and keep your hands in the air.”

Raising their arms, Linda and Rick slowly turned to find a grizzled man holding a rifle on them. He was wearing a battered cowboy hat, red flannel shirt and an old long brown coat identical to Linda’s. “You with the Independents,” asked Linda.

“Don’t much matter who I'm with if your with the Purplebellies,” replied the man over a mouthful of chewing tobacco.

“Do I look like I’m with the Purplebellies,” asked Linda, indicating her own coat.

“Coat don’t mean squat,” said the man. “No end of ‘em to be had in second hand stores these days. What does mean something is that there was a cargo ship as was spotted landing out here after leaving that Alliance base that got took yesterday.” “Well then why don’t you take us back to your commanding officer and we’ll be happy to sort this all out.”

“Don’t you presume to suggest anything,” ordered the man with the rifle as he spit a large gob of tobacco juice onto the ground. “Now move,” he indicated in the direction they had been heading with a wave of his rifle.

After another fifteen minutes of walking they came upon a camp site composed of several mismatched tents, vehicles, and fifty or so men. “What’d ya find there Bo,” yelled one of the men as he approached.

“Think these two are from that cargo ship we got word of, Jimmy,” replied the man who had captured them, and who was apparently named Bo.

“Well, well, looks like we got ourselves some Purplebelly sympathizers,” said Jimmy as several of the other men paused in whatever they were doing to look over Linda and Rick. “I reckon it’s gonna be a good day for a hanging, what’ya think boys.” Several of the other men yelled their agreement.

“Now hold on here,” said Rick, “Can’t just hang us afore you heard us out. As it happens we come bearing gifts that just might be useful for your noble cause.”

“Bi zui,” said Bo.

“Yeah,” said Jimmy, “Save the excuses fer Old Scratch. Y’all be meetin him soon enough.”

“What’s all the ruckus,” said a new voice as a large man emerged from a nearby tent. “Won’t be anyone meeting the Devil round here without my say so.”

“Found these two wondering the woods. Think they’re from that Alliance cargo ship,” replied Jimmy.

“Well then,” said the officer, as he surveyed the two captives. His eyes paused at Linda.

“Colonel Weather,” said Linda in recognition.

“Dear lord, Linda Hawkins, it is you,” said the Colonel. “Stand down Bo. I don’t reckon this woman here is any ‘liance sympathizer.”

The Colonel led Linda and Rick into his tent where they explained their tale and handed over the data that had been given to them. As it turned out, despite being cut off from any communication off planet, the Browncoats on Shadow had a robust planet-wide radio network. Within an hour, the data was broadcast to every Independent platoon and gorilla cell on the planet. Linda and Rick also went from being the focus of a potential lynching to the local heroes of the hour.

As it was too late that day to return to their ship, they accepted the offer to be put up for the night by Weather and his men. That night, dinner was a festive affair and the Browncoats even cracked into a keg of ale in celebration of the tactical data that would give them a fighting chance should the blockading fleet above them attempt to do anything more proactive.

After dinner, Colonel Weather even pulled out a bottle of fine quality Shadow Rye Whiskey. It was a true treat for Rick, who could rarely afford the top shelf brands, and many Shadow made whiskeys were at the top of the top shelf. "My daughter and son in law run a distillary," explied Weather.

“Sir,” said Linda, interrupting the two men's discussion on the merits of borubon versus rye, “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what,” replied the officer.

“Fighting, again, the war is long done, we lost. No point in going at it again. Only a handful of the words from the first war are even sympathizing with Shadow and Hera. I think we both know how this is going to end.”

Weather exhaled a long breath and regarded Linda. “I used to feel the same way. I had a farm here on Shadow; bought the land cheap just before the reterraforming was complete. Till two years ago I used to grow wheat for export back to the Core. Was alright, still had no love for the Alliance but I had my piece of land and my family. Then Blue Sun's agriculture division came in. They started buying up all the small farms and consolidating them. When most folk wouldn’t sell out, they went to the local prefect, got the laws changed, raised property taxes for small farms while giving loopholes to the large ones.”

“Local government did that,” asked Rick with surprise.

“You have to understand,” replied Weather, “martial law is still in effect out on many of the border planets. The local government is appointed by Parliament, not elected by the citizenry. They don’t answer to the people they are supposed to serve. As a result they tend to serve only themselves. Regardless, let me finish my story. Like most of the men you see here, I lost my land and was left with less than nothing in compensation. Fighting is the only thing left to us. Regardless if the Alliance crushes us under their boots for a second time, at least we will die doing something other than quietly rolling over.”

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The Alliance struck back the next morning just before down. Apparently having lost their base was enough to instigate a full scale invasion of New Shadow. Anxious to retaliate for their lost military installation, they blanketed the surrounding area with troop carriers in a massive blitzkrieg attack. Linda and Rick woke to the sound of gunfire, and by the time they had managed to get out of their tent, found themselves in the middle of an intense firefight. Several of the independent soldiers had been gunned down as they exited their tents while others had taken cover behind anything that they could find as the Alliance soldiers fired at them from the cover of the trees at the edge of camp. Linda grabbed Rick’s arm and pulled the big man down behind a crate. Rick almost toppled over in surprise as bullets tore through the fabric of the tent behind where they had been standing.

On instinct, Linda drew her Mare’s Leg and began firing into the tree line along with the other Independent soldiers that had managed to find cover. With a sense of satisfaction, she soon managed to drop two of the purple and blue uniformed soldiers. After a few seconds to assess the situation, Rick also drew his side arm and began firing. She could see Colonel Weather in the midst of a small knot of Browncoats that had collected at the far side of the camp behind some vehicles. From the way he was talking, it seemed he had some sort of a plan. Just then, half a dozen of the men jumped up with heavy machine guns and began spraying the forest edge with bullets. As the Purplebellies hunkered down under the fire, Weather led the rest of his men in a charge into the woods at the far side from where the Alliance soldiers were positioned. The tactic was clear, he was trying to maneuver his men around the Alliance soldiers and flank them. It was their only chance for survival, and it almost worked. The men made it to the tree line and began advancing under the cover of they provided toward the Alliance force who were forced to fall back as they were now taking fire now from two sides. Just as the victory was within grasp of the men and women that wore brown, the whine of engines roared over head and another Alliance troop carrier came in for a landing. The reinforcements did not even wait for their transport to land before jumping to the ground behind Colonel Weather’s forces. Out numbered, out gunned, and now out flanked, the Browncoats were slaughtered.

Within minutes the camp was overrun and Linda found herself and Rick dropping their weapons in surrender. She could see Colonel Weather lying dead at the edge of the camp, pistol still in hand. With the loss of their leader, the rag tag company of Browncoats had fallen apart as a fighting unit, and those that were still alive were already being lined up and shackled together, Linda and Rick among them. As Linda looked around at the aftermath of the carnage, haunting memories from the war ten years previous came rushing back to her. For a few minutes she had been a soldier again, and now she was once again a defeated soldier.

A pair of Alliance soldiers searched them and confiscated their weapons. They waited an hour with the other captured soldiers in enforced silence as anyone that dared to speak received a ruthless jab from the butt of an Alliance rifle.

After the bodies were lined up and accounted for, and all the survivors had been properly secured, an officer stepped from one of the troop carriers. He surveyed the site of the recent battle, and looked over the captured soldiers. “Well, well, what do we have here? Some Browncoat scum that didn’t have the courtesy to die in the first war.”

The officer walked along the line of shackled prisoners. He spoke slowly in a low and menacing voice. “Some of you folks might think you’re fighting some grand new war for freedom, but you are sadly mistaken. This is not a war, and you are not soldiers. This is a police action, and you are all traitorous scum, and tomorrow I intend to make an example of you. Tomorrow morning you will all be executed for high treason, and tomorrow evening every one of your miserable deaths will be on every cortex box from here to Sihnon for all the ‘Verse to see.” The officer turned his back on the prisoners. Before walking away he paused, and without even turning back to look at them added, “Perhaps it will keep anyone else from getting any foolish notions of their own.”

TO BE CONTINUED

Authors Notes:

Last post for the year, so I figured I’d give you some more adventure to whet your minds. Looks like at least another one or two more installments are in the mix before this arc is over, though this will flow seamlessly into the final part of my story.

As usual: It ain’t mine, I just like playing with it. (Does that sound right to you?)