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STILL CHET NORTHFIELD'S P.O.V.

During the initial ambush, Sam and I had estimated about fifty sulsa suddenly re-enlarging and dropping down from the rafters. And, between the two of us, we had managed to account for one-fifth of them. The rest of them had fallen to 5.56 mm rounds fired by the genin who now identified himself...as Kevin McCloskey.

The only one he did not kill was the Hoosier twirler Laura Petrie. Her, he sedated with an acupuncture needle dipped in thorazine!

Only then did the resident SP's of this base come barging in to our "rescue." Eric Bravo quickly took charge, though, and explained to the sergeant of the guard (in a concise-if-edited fashion) what had happened. So, when the sergeant got on his cellphone, and ordered fifty-one body bags be brought to the hangar/warehouse, ASAP, I had a pretty good idea who was going in the fifty-first. And, sure enough, I was right!

When Ms. Petrie woke up, half an hour later, we had her in a maximum security cell, wrist-tied, blindfolded and wearing an extra-large WAF blazer over her leotard. In the interim beforehand, it was decided that Naomi would interrogate her...

...while I interrogated McCloskey.

"OK, Lucy," I said (not even bothering trying to sound like Desi Arnaz): "Start 'splaining.' "

At least he had the good manners to courteously chuckle.

"If, by that, you mean you're subtly demanding to know how a certain redheaded ex-Ranger of Company D, 151st Infantry, could get the drop on a bunch of shrink-and-grow ninjas, the answer is simple. I learned it from my old man!"

McCloskey, Senior, it turns out, was a Vietnam War veteran (from East Chicago, Indiana) who had spent the first ten years, after 'Nam, running guns as a Company merc. Then, around 1977, they started paying him to cross-train with the Heikegani-ryu! When he "graduated," the Company put him to work in Soviet-occupied Afghanistan as a "military advisor" to the Mujahideen. After the Soviet Union dissolved in 1991, however, he moved back to the States, where he went to work for CPS, Inc.

Just to be near his ex-wife and son (who now lived in Culver City).

"Pop taught me their secrets during my summer vacations with him. And I've been following in his footsteps since graduating from college!"

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MILES STONE'S P.O.V.

Naomi had talked it over with Eric Bravo, beforehand, and the two of them decided it would be better if she conducted the verbal questioning. That way, I could hide in her breast pocket and use my cyber-telepathic implant to do a little "websurfing" of Laura Petrie's (I could not even _think_ of that name without picturing Mary Tyler Moore!) nanite-infested brain. So, I went into my auto-hypnotic trance and did exactly that.

"Hello, Major Stone. "I've been waiting for you."

There she was; standing there, in my mind's eye, just as everyone else had seen her during the initial confrontation in that commandeered maintenance hangar. And, by that, I mean she was the same height as I was mentally picturing myself!

"How...?" I instinctively began to ask.

"Those I serve have been at this a lot longer than your people. Indeed; the computer chip in your brain was developed from the reverse-engineering of electronic equipment your government salvaged from a certain spacecraft...in Roswell, New Mexico."

tbc
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