A Time for Patriots

way to the north side of the ridge, about a mile walking. I’ve got two Harleys waiting outside the bore. We can ride to my airstrip near Austin and take the Turbo Commander to—”

Just then the entire assemblage heard the large, heavy steel doors at the back of the cavern rattle, as if it were being blown by a powerful gust of wind. Then they heard a metallic knock knock knock — followed by both doors being ripped off their hinges like banana peels, and the Cybernetic Infantry Device entered the chamber. “Is it too late for the door prize?” Brad asked in his electronic voice, holding both steel doors in his armored hands. He held up the doors and rattled them as easily as shaking two pieces of paper. “Get it? ‘Door prize’?”

“Everybody take a good look — this is what the government has sent out against us!” Andorsen shouted over the terrified voices echoing through the cavern. “They sent the most destructive weapon in the Army’s arsenal against unarmed innocent citizens. Don’t be afraid of it! You want a perfect example of what the federal government is willing to do against sovereign citizens — there it is! The federal government will stop at nothing, and use every weapon it possesses, to squash your freedom!”

“This has nothing to do with the federal government, Andorsen,” a voice said… and Patrick McLanahan stepped past Brad into the chamber. “This is about your fellow citizens putting a stop to your killing spree.” Behind him came Rob Spara, David Bellville, John de Carteret, and fifty more members of the Battle Mountain Civil Air Patrol squadron.

“These are the criminals who have been spying on you!” Andorsen shouted. “These are the ones who tried to kill the Knights of the True Republic, then lured them onto the air base and slaughtered them! They are the ones using radioactive bombs. Don’t listen to them!”

“My name is General Patrick McLanahan,” Patrick shouted. “You know who I am. I’m a retired lieutenant- general of the United States Air Force and a member of the Civil Air Patrol — and I’m also your neighbor. We are all your neighbors. I’m here to tell you that Judah Andorsen has been lying to you. He doesn’t want to protect you. He doesn’t want to create a peaceful self-governing society. He’s an anarchist. He wants to create an empire in the heart of Nevada that operates by creating fear in the people, our elected officials, and in law enforcement. He creates fear, then proposes a solution: band together, join him, and he will protect you. It’s a lie.”

“Who is creating fear now, McLanahan?” Andorsen asked. “Who is ripping apart doors and killing our friends outside? You’re the real threat here, McLanahan, not I. You can’t stop us. You can’t terrorize us.” He waved his hands over the audience. “What are you going to do to us now, General?” he asked. “You going to call the police? Call the Army? Call the National Guard? You do that, and you’ve proved that government only takes freedom, not provides it — and you’re an instrument of the government, just as we always thought you were.”

“Why did you kill Leif Delamar, Andorsen?”

“You mean, the man spying on us yesterday morning?” Andorsen asked. “ Your spy? He deserved to die.”

“He was unarmed.”

“He was a spy and a traitor, and spies and traitors are executed — that’s the law of war.”

“Why did you kill all those members of the Knights of the True Republic?” Patrick asked. “More innocents murdered, by you .”

“They were cowardly sheep, betrayed by their leader into agreeing to come onto the air base for their so- called protection and assistance,” Andorsen said. “They are better off dead than surrendering themselves to the government!”

“So who else do you intend on killing with radioactive dirty bombs, Andorsen?” Patrick shouted. “What other innocents will die?”

“I never used dirty bombs on anyone!” Andorsen shouted. Now the assemblage was looking suspiciously at him instead of Patrick or the CID. “That’s a lie! Prove that I’ve ever used dirty bombs! Yes, I have explosives, and I’ve lashed out at enemies of this community! But I’ve never used dirty—”

“You’re a liar, Andorsen,” a voice shouted behind him. It was Michael Fitzgerald, pushing a cart carrying a large wooden crate with J. ANDORSEN CONSTRUCTION stenciled in black letters. “If you’ve never used dirty bombs, what’s this ?” And Fitzgerald kicked the crate open…

… revealing a large steel-and-concrete cask, marked with radioactive-material symbology.

“You planted that on me!” Andorsen shouted. “It’s a plant! You’re trying to set me up!”

“You murdered my friend right in front of my eyes, you lousy bastard,” Fitzgerald shouted. “You had me spy on my friends and inform on them to the FBI. All I wanted was a job, Andorsen — you turned me into a traitor.”

“No one’s going to believe you about anything, you stupid loser,” Andorsen said, “especially if you’re dead !” And he reached into his jacket for his Smith & Wesson.357 Magnum revolver…

… but Fitzgerald was faster. He pulled out a Browning M1911 semiautomatic pistol and fired three times before Andorsen’s revolver could clear the flying jacket.

“I may be a loser,” Fitzgerald said, “but I can draw and shoot better than you any day.” He stepped over the body, off the stage, and over to Patrick, Rob, David, and John. “I’m sorry, guys,” he said. “I told Andorsen about your surveillance, the Tin Man, the robot, and the backups, and he told the FBI. I was just trying to get into his good graces so he’d give me a job. I set up Leif with Andorsen’s guards, but I didn’t think they’d kill him! Then I helped the van get on base. Jesus, I really screwed up.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Patrick said. He turned to the crowd. “Go home, everyone,” he said in a loud voice. “Go home, hug your family, and try to trust the government again. It may not be perfect, but it’s ours. If you don’t like it — fix it. Don’t try to destroy it.” He looked up at the CID. “Let’s go, big guy.”

“Okay, Dad,” Brad said — and Patrick thought he could hear Brad’s own voice, not the electronic one.

Epilogue

I find no hint throughout the Universe of good or ill, of blessing or of curse; I find alone Necessity Supreme.

— James Thomson

Downtown Battle Mountain

Days later

Patrick emerged from the hotel hand in hand with Darrow Horton and walked to the hotel’s parking lot. “Are you sure you can’t stay one more night?” he asked. “I can fly you to Reno in the Centurion so you can catch your flight.”

“When you get a real airplane, Patrick, then I’ll fly with you,” Darrow quipped. “Anyway, the U.S. attorney has dropped all the charges, and they said they’d talk with the FAA about those sensor things you put on the airplanes. It looks like Civil Air Patrol is interested in installing them on all their planes.”

“Excellent,” Patrick said. “That’d be a nice little piece of business for Sky Masters.”

They were silent for a few moments; then: “Are you sure about all this, Patrick?” she asked. “You’re giving up the appointment to be the vice president’s space policy adviser?”

“Yes,” Patrick said. “I’ve been to Washington and the White House already, and didn’t really care for it.”

“But… I’m in Washington,” she said. “You and Brad could come and stay with me, and we could… take it from there?” He said nothing, which was all the answer she needed. “So what are you going to do?” she asked. “Go to Sacramento? Arizona? Las Vegas?”

“No — I’m going to stay right here,” Patrick said.

“Here? And do what? The base is closed. With the base closed, Battle Mountain will practically be a ghost town!”

“I’ve accepted a job,” Patrick said. “I’m going to be vice president of Sky Masters, Inc., taking over Jon’s