A Time for Patriots

… but not at Patrick… he aimed upward from the bottom of his jaw. He closed his eyes, shouted, “God bless the True Republic!” and pulled the trigger. Except for a few children who cried out at the gunshot, no one in the audience moved or said a word as the lifeless body hit the dais.

Joint Air Base Battle Mountain

A short time later

Patrick led the others into the FBI hangar, with Whack carrying the folded-up CID unit himself. Patrick was surprised to see Michael Fitzgerald there, examining the bullet-ridden wreckage of the second Cybernetic Infantry Device, which had been hit by gunners in the Knights of the True Republic’s compound. “Hey, Fid,” Patrick said.

Fitzgerald looked at amazement at the Tin Man as Whack set the stowed CID unit in its charging cradle. “Who in hell are you ?” he exclaimed. Whack didn’t answer him, but took off his helmet, then removed the battery packs on his waist and put them into their chargers.

“It’s kind of late to explain, Fid,” Patrick said wearily. “What’s going on?”

“I went over to the squadron to see if you needed any help with the surveillance,” Fitzgerald said, “and Rob said you’d be over here. What happened? Where were you guys?”

“Out at the Knights’ compound.”

“Did you fight it out with them? I heard they have all sorts of weapons out there.”

“No.”

“Did you get to talk with Reverend Paulson? That guy is a real piece of work. He’s definitely crazy enough to have loaded that ambulance up with explosives and killed all those people.”

Patrick dropped into a chair, emotionally drained. “Paulson is dead,” he said.

“Dead?” Fitzgerald immediately looked over at Whack. “Did you kill him?”

“Suicide,” Whack said in a low voice.

“No shit,” Fitzgerald said. “I’ll bet the Knights will be on the warpath tomorrow.”

“They’re coming onto the base,” Patrick said. “The Knights disbanded, and the compound is wide open, not guarded anymore.”

“Wow — the Knights, disbanded,” Fitzgerald breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Now I’ll bet the cops can go in there and search for any more of that radioactive shit they’ve been using against government buildings.”

“We searched,” Patrick said, rubbing his eyes. “We didn’t find anything. No explosives, no radioactive material, no shoulder-fired surface-to-air missiles. Just lots of guns and a few old light antitank launchers.”

“No shit,” Fitzgerald said. “So… so what does that mean?”

“It means we keep searching,” Patrick said. “We start all over, first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Well, you may be onto something with the Kellerman place,” Fitzgerald said. “Somebody’s definitely been out there — it looks like some supplies have been brought in, food and water, and the power’s been turned back on. No sign of the place being broken into.”

“Thanks, Fid,” Patrick said. His brain was just too worn out to process this new information. “We’ll meet tomorrow to plan our next moves.”

“See you tomorrow, General.” Fitzgerald took one last look at the Tin Man, the stowed CID, and the broken-up CID as he headed out the door.

“One of your Civil Air Patrol guys?” Whack asked, watching Fitzgerald depart.

“Michael Fitzgerald,” Patrick said. “Lost his job with the Nevada Department of Wildlife just a few months from retirement, probably because of the FBI.”

“He sure doesn’t look ex-military.”

“You don’t need to be ex-military to join the Civil Air Patrol,” Patrick said. “He specializes in cadet ground-strike teams. He’s a good guy.” He got to his feet. “I’m going home, guys. I don’t want to leave Brad alone too long if I can help it. He’s pretty busted up about his friend Ron.”

“Why don’t you just stay home for a couple days with Brad, maybe fly on out to see your mom in Scottsdale?” Charlie Turlock suggested. “General Givens has got the incoming community members taken care of — if we get any more, because of that ambush today — and we’ll keep on helping with surveillance. If anything crops up, we’ll give you a call and we can decide how to handle it.”

Patrick said nothing for several long moments, then nodded. “That sounds really good, Charlie,” he said. “I’d hate to lose a surveillance plane, but the Bonanza should be ready soon, so we’ll be back to two planes. And it’d be good for Brad to see his grandma and aunts. I’ll see how he feels. We can make it his dual cross-country, and if he feels up to it, he can fly his solo cross-countries from Scottsdale. That’s all he needs for his check ride.”

“Then he can take me flying, right?” Charlie asked. “He promised, as soon as he got his private pilot’s license.”

“Sure. He’s a good stick, and the turbine Centurion is a nice ride.”

“Cool. Hey, speaking of piloting — did Jason tell you about Brad piloting the CID?” Charlie asked.

“What?” The weariness in Patrick’s face disappeared in a heartbeat, replaced by surprise and concern. “No! Brad was in the CID? When?”