CHAPTER THREE – Learning The Truth

Banquets provided opportunities for people to move around from group to group, overhear things that maybe the chatters didn't want overheard. With Scout being his usual, entertaining self, telling jokes and keeping attention on him, Hawk moved around the crowds trying to get a bead on Rogers without being noticed.

A quick recon gave Hawk a great deal of information. Rogers' important position as the governor allowed him access to town leaders and influential people who seemed intensely satisfied with his performance even if there was a slight edge of fear and maybe disdain to their opinions. Maybe they were being bought off? Rogers didn't associate with people who were further down the working food chain. His body language indicated an egotistical arrogance, a sense of superiority, a wielding of power.

Hawk did not like dealing with people like that.

He moved further into the crowds, trying to blend in, joining into conversations as he passed. He saw Rogers talking to Ibold, every now and then glancing back toward Jennifer. Hawk finally got within hearing range.

Rogers spoke in a rough whisper. "It makes my gut churn to think I had to eat in the same room with… that."

"Rogers, Jennifer Chase is one of the people who instrumentally brought about the end of the war. She's one of Power's team. She's on our side."

"Our side? You don't know the Dread Youth like I do. The soldiers, the youth leaders, the overunits – it doesn't matter. They're all alike. She was the youth leader who destroyed Sand Town. Do you know how many people were murdered and digitized and enslaved that day? How many she probably murdered personally?"

"Rogers –"

"She's Dread scum like the rest of them. Why isn't she rotting in prison or dead? Is the Committee being partial?"

Hawk listened closer. What was the Committee?

"Rogers," Ibold moved very close and his voice grew stern, "I don't care about your personal feelings. Power and his team are politically powerful friends for any town to have. They risked their lives to save humans time and again and asked for nothing in return. They volunteered for the suicidal mission of attacking Volcania by infiltrating the base. Chase is a Resistance fighter, not a youth leader. She's off limits to you and your excursions so forget she even exists. We don't want Power as an enemy. Now drop the entire subject. The topic is no longer up for discussion."

Excursions? What did that mean?

Ibold wasn't his happy, jovial self. He certainly wasn't behaving like the slight sycophant they had met at the platform earlier. No, that was the voice of someone standing his ground against someone he didn't like. There was tension between him and Rogers. Could the other mayors feel the same way? Hawk had heard speeches against the Dread Youth and the leadership for years, but this was the first time he'd heard that hate directed so vocally toward Jennifer. What's worse, if one person felt that way, how many others did as well? And if Rogers was killing Dread Youth like they suspected, what did that mean for them?

~*~*~*~*~

Scout kept the attention on him while the others kept gathering Intel. He was good at being the center of attention, cracking jokes, making people laugh. And when people were in a good mood, they were in more of a mood to talk.

Natalie Arthur, another friend from the Passages, had already gotten his attention. He couldn't break away from the crowd just yet. He had to keep the joviality going. He gave her a hand wave to let her know that he saw her. Whatever it was, it was serious. Natalie looked too concerned for it to be anything unimportant.

"Then," he continued on with the story, "there we were, clickers on one side of us, clickers on the other, the front entrance of the valley blocked with no way out. Tank was trying to cover us from the biomechs attacking us from the entrance while me and the captain were trying to keep the others from flanking us. We just knew the three of us were goners."

"You must have been terrified," a young lady exclaimed.

"Terrified? No, we were a little too busy to be terrified but I wouldn't have wanted to try to count our heart rates at the time. But then, just when we knew we weren't going to get out of there, Hawk came flying in from one angle, Pilot flew the jumpship in from the other, both of them firing every weapon they had to blast us a hole through the clickers. We kept firing, ran through the hole and made a clean getaway. It was a brilliant strategy."

"But did you get the data disk?" another listener asked.

"Absolutely. It wouldn't have been a lot of fun if we'd gone to all that trouble and walked away empty handed."

There were more questions, more comments, then Scout saw Hawk give him the sign that he had information and Scout could take his turn. Undoubtedly, he'd seen Natalie too. He motioned Hawk over to him.

"Now, if you folks will excuse me, I think I'll have another glass of this punch. But Hawk here has more than a few good stories to tell. He won't be as entertaining as me, but he won't bore you."

"Thanks, Scout," Matt said as he patted Scout on the shoulder. "Go get punch. I'm sure these folks need a bit of a break."

Not much of a break, Scout mused as he walked toward the punchbowl and Natalie. Hawk could spin as good a yarn as any of them. Within moments, he heard laughing and talking. Yeah, Hawk was entertaining the masses.

"I was wondering when you'd pry yourself away from your audience," Natalie joked as she handed him another glass.

"Well, you know the old saying, always leave them wanting more," Scout told her. "So you got assigned here from the Passages?"

"Temporarily," she told him as they walked away from the crowd. "They needed medical help with the huge influx of Dread soldiers and, to tell the truth, I wanted a break from the Passages. You know, breathe fresh air. See real sunlight."

They stopped by a window that looked out on greening fields of crops. It was amazing to think that just mere months ago, those fields were nothing more than barren, dead soil.

"There's something going on here," she whispered. "I thought that might be why your team showed up."

Scout took a sip of punch. "What have you got?"

"At first, there were a lot of transfers that weren't recorded correctly. I thought that it was an oversight until I was in charge of certain activities. Some of the prisoners were assigned to work details on the farms and in the reconstruction projects. The same names are on the lists, but they're not the same people. Then, at some point, some of them just ceased to exist in the computer system, and I couldn't track them down --"

"Wait," Scout stopped her. "When you say assigned to work details, what do you mean?"

Natalie looked out the window at the crops. "Every bit of work done on the farms is performed by the prisoners. The new roads, the new buildings, all of it. Very little work is done by the townspeople. They're working more on desk jobs and leaving the heavy lifting to the inmates."

That sounded ominously like… "They're using the prisoners as slave labor and not just as a helping labor force? Even the ones that haven't been to trial yet?"

"Yes, but what I don't understand is why they're using the same names of prisoners, not the same ones each time. It's like someone just hates doing paperwork."

That was the polar opposite of the truth, Scout knew, but he didn't want to tip their hand to anyone yet. "That's not legal," Scout murmured. "Using them as a work force is, but that only applies to those who have been tried and convicted or those who volunteer for outside work. The Council ruled on that –"

"You mean the Committee, not the Council. It was the wording that makes using them as slave labor legal. The Committee merely stated that all of them could be assigned to work groups, and there's no distinction between prisoners who have been tried and convicted and those awaiting trial. They consider all Dread Youth prisoners."

"Loophole," Scout muttered.

"A big one, but it's the Committee that makes the decisions now, not the Council or Command."

"What exactly is the Committee?" Scout knew none of his team had heard of this group.

"You don't know them? They're a joint group consisting of members of both Council and Command. They thought it was a good way to coordinate things since Command and Council each have jurisdiction over different groups."

Another group in charge? Maybe that's why there was so much confusion in the system all of a sudden.

"What about the prisoners that disappeared? Is there any similarity in their disappearances? Any clue about what happened to them?"

"None that I can find yet. I've looked, but I can't find a paper trail. I can't find any bodies," Natalie took another sip of her drink. "Whatever's going on, it has to be bad."

"I think it just got worse," Scout told her.

~*~*~*~*~

Both Jennifer and Angela indulged in another piece of chocolate cake.

Chocolate.

Did anyone realize how precious chocolate was?

"Where did they get chocolate?" Jennifer asked.

"They manufacture it," Angela told her. "I think it comes from one of the hydroponics factories out near the prison."

That didn't sound right. "Did you say hydroponics factories?"

"Yeah. Prison labor works there growing the food they eat here and use for trade with other towns. One of the factories is set up for luxuries like sugar cane and cocoa beans."

"And we can have chocolate," Jennifer surmised.

"Absolutely. Other factories are set up for growing basics. I think one doubles as a cannery."

And chocolate frosting! Jennifer couldn't let a single crumb get away from her. It had been so long since she had chocolate – it was an extraordinarily rare treat yet Dobbinsville had plenty. "The workers in the factories, do you know if it's all prison labor?"

"Every bit of it," Angela told her. "Every factory, every farm, every bit of manual labor is done by prisoners." Then, quickly and in a much lower voice, Angela asked, "How long are all of you staying?"

"Through tomorrow. I have some repairs to do on the jumpship. Mayor Ibold is putting us up for the night."

"I'd get out of here as quickly as I could if I were you," Angela advised.

"Why? What else is going on?"

Angela reached into a backpack sitting beside her. "They gave us these when we first arrived." She pulled a reader out of the pack and gave it to Jennifer. "Read this when you're alone. There are some here who have an odd idea of what freedom from Dread really means. It's not safe for you here."

Jennifer took the reader and placed it in her own gear sitting beside her chair. "Not safe how?"

"Rogers. He doesn't like anything to do with Dread Youth. I think he's got a personal mission to make their lives as miserable as possible."

"How is he doing that?" Jennifer asked her.

"I don't know, but people in these small towns around the prison are acting very strange. It's like they're scared of Rogers but they're covering for him, but I don't know what it is. Just get out of here as quick as you can. Working for the Resistance might not keep even you safe."

~*~*~*~*~

Despite Rogers and the Intel gathering, the team had a rather good time that night. Good food, good drink, good company was always a good start at gathering information. Yet, not to appear obvious, the team mingled and didn't ask too many more questions to the crowd.

The party itself wrapped up about a half hour to midnight, and some of the revelers began to retire. After all, they had only been given 'one night off.' They all had to work to do in the morning.

Jon still felt uneasy about what he had learned. He understood why people mistrusted the soldiers. They were responsible for the suffering under Dread's new world order, but so many of the so-called soldiers were children who had no idea that their life had been made up of lies. Now that they were free of Dread, they had a real chance at life. They were living in schools and orphanages or with families who were helping them reintegrate into human society. The most obvious obstacle was the fact these children thought they were inferior, that the machine was all-powerful, that they 'wanted' to have metalloid bodies in order to become one with the Machine.

"He looks over at her and sees a former youth leader, not one of the leaders of the Resistance."

Those words haunted him. How many times had Jennifer proven her loyalty to the human race over the years? She had been willing to die to keep Dread from getting a single circuit from the Power Base by blowing it up. She risked her life in battles, she would charge into danger to rescue a total stranger from a biomech.

Did others only see her as just a youth leader and nothing more?

And Rogers, if he was guilty of what they thought he was guilty of, was he planning on going after his wife?

Jon had met some Dread Youth soldiers since Dread was defeated, and the differences between them and Jennifer when he first met her were startling. In retrospect, Jon could honestly say that Jennifer wasn't Dread Youth then – at least, she didn't have the outlook or the mindset of a Dread soldier. She was someone who had been raised in the training but who had had her eyes opened to the truth in a horrible manner. She willfully and willingly rejected the training and fought to regain her humanity. The soldiers that were captured after the attack on Volcania hadn't had that opportunity. They hadn't been exposed to the truth. They were Dread Youth.

That glaring difference was what made the difference in Jon's mind. To him, there was a vast distinction between being in the Dread Youth and being a Dread Youth. Perhaps Rogers couldn't see that distinction, but others could, and Jennifer was living proof of that difference.

He reached their assigned quarters and entered quietly although he knew Jennifer wouldn't be asleep. On recon, she could go days without sleep to get information if she needed to. She was sitting cross-legged on the pallet perusing a digital reader, a concerned look on her face. Jon kicked off his shoes and sat down behind her.

"What's that?"

"A little extra to the Rogers' recon. Angela was given this when she first came here from the Passages and thought I needed to see it if we were going to stay. She said it might be a good idea if I left quickly. It's a… it's… here. You read it." She handed him the reader.

At first, the words seemed rather innocuous. Further down, Jon read what worried Jennifer. Certain words used in certain ways – rhetoric. Hateful rhetoric.

'The presence of the Dread soldiers places all humans in grave danger… killers trained from birth… murderers who believe in the superiority of the Machine… how much longer until they rise again? We must harness that strength; use it for our own good since they sought to destroy all the goodness in the world. They must be the examples to all future enemies of humanity…they must not be allowed to remain alive or be allowed to rise again…'

Some of it was old rhetoric. These were the half-truths that parents told their children to explain the existence of the Dread soldiers. He checked the date on the reader. The writing was rather recent.

"Rogers wrote that and sent it to the town councils when he first took over the prison," she said.

"He's trying to consolidate power and cause trouble," Jon concluded.

"And he has the perfect scapegoats to use," Jennifer added. "Keep reading. It doesn't stop there."

Jon skimmed the manifesto. It got progressively worse. He read aloud. "All rights of the Dread Youth are suspended by order of the Committee… only privileges allowed are those accorded to prisoners as already stated… no holidays or anniversaries or ceremonies will be allowed to be observed by any Dread Youth… this is becoming scarier by the moment," he muttered. "What's the Committee?"

"I don't know, but the writing gets even worse. There's not one word in any of that stating that these laws are for captured prisoners. It just says Dread Youth, over and over again. According to Rogers, these are the rules the Committee came out with. Dread Youth are under Command's jurisdiction. The Committee must be something new?"

"I don't know," Jon answered. "Part of the Prison Commission maybe?"

"I don't understand what they're doing. One ruling says that the only privileges allowed are the ones already stated, then it says no holidays, anniversaries or ceremonies will be observed. That's a contradiction. Besides, prisoners have been allowed to observe special days. Wouldn't that be a privilege already accorded? It's almost like they're trying to make this confusing on purpose."

"Maybe they are. Maybe that's what Rogers needs to do whatever it is he's doing. If the laws are contradictory, he'll have a justification for his actions."

"That's even scarier," Jennifer muttered. "There's still a lot of hate out there for the Dread Youth. How can the ones that are still alive have fair trials with laws like these making things worse than they are? And if Rogers is killing the prisoners or making an example of them? Jon, some youth leaders had never left Volcania. They had no idea what was beyond the fortress walls."

Rogers…

Rogers was the prison warden, he was the provincial governor, and he didn't like the Dread Youth.

He shut down the reader and placed it on the floor next to the pallet. "It's going to take a while for people to move on. The war lasted a long time and old hates die hard. For Rogers though… " He placed a hand on the back of Jennifer's neck and felt how tense her muscles were. Even after all the years she'd been away from them, her Dread Youth past still haunted her. People like Rogers compounded the issue when it turned hateful. Jon gently brushed Jennifer's hair behind her shoulder and saw the scars on her temple left behind by the interrogations she endured before they could rescue her. He gingerly brushed his finger against them. "Hawk's working recon on the other mayors. It seems like Rogers and Ibold don't agree on a lot of things. Maybe the others feel the same way. Scout has been talking with Natalie about certain things that are happening at the prison, and Tank's still in the banquet hall looking for someone who's had just a little too much to drink tonight. We'll regroup at the jumpship in the morning and put the pieces together."

"I don't think we're going to like the pieces," she said as Jon began to gently knead the muscles in her neck and shoulders. He could feel her relax a little, feel her lean into his hands. "We need to find where the prisoners who are disappearing are being transferred to. If they're being transferred, that is."

"It's not all in the paperwork," he reminded her. "I think we'll need to catch him in the act." He sensed a few more of her muscles becoming less tense. He tenderly kissed the soft fold of her ear, felt her lean her head back to give him better access. He let his lips slide further to her temple, moving slowly toward her jaw line.

"Or find out how he's doing it by talking to someone inside and setting a trap."

That one statement scared Jon more than seeing Rogers' glare at Jennifer at the feast. He also knew that a scared, loud no to a perfectly valid and logistically logical idea would be met with stubborn resistance. That was something he had a lot of experience dealing with – especially since Jennifer was usually right when it came to tactics. The truth was that the idea of her going inside wasn't an option he wanted to entertain. "It's too dangerous right now, but if we do go that route, we need more Intel. There'd be no way to track you or be your backup, and without knowing what he's doing, we'd have no way of knowing what to expect or counteract it. We'd need more information first."

"Something tells me we don't have that kind of time."

The lights in their room dimmed. It was the beginning of the town's shutdown for the night. First would be the private rooms, then the public rooms, then the main facilities. A lot of the towns went go to one-quarter power at night to conserve fuel. It was much more conducive for sleeping.

Jon placed his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. "Know what I think we ought to do right now?" He placed his other arm around her and held her tight.

"What?" she asked.

"Worry about that tomorrow," he suggested as he kissed her neck, slowly working his way around. He felt her relax further in his arms. "And you know what else I was thinking?"

"I could guess, but I think you want to tell me," she smiled as she turned toward him.

"I seem to remember that you and I have been so busy for the last few weeks that I haven't had a chance to court my wife." He placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

"I have noticed that," she teased.

"And very early this morning, we were talking about making an appointment for us to spend some time together tomorrow…"

"And you pointed out that any time after midnight was tomorrow," she kissed him back, "and it's still before midnight which means tomorrow is still today…"

"And since we technically have the night off," he kissed her again, drawing her close, one hand going to the buttons on her shirt, "and we don't have to be anywhere until tomorrow morning…"

Further conversation wasn't needed.

~*~*~*~*~

Tank's luck was proving equally surprising. Since liquor had a tendency to loosen tongues, he waited around until the crowd thinned out. One of the still-conscious individuals could be the best bet they had of finding out more information of what was going on. Luckily, one of the factory engineers was still awake.

"All I know is that they want to take all the youth leaders and overunits and make examples out of them," he said. The man was well on his way to getting drunk. "Keep the others from growing up and building another army. Some of the cadets tried doing just that. They got taken care of real quick. Handed them over to Rogers." His words slurred as Tank poured him another drink. "Rogers, that guy hates them all."

Tank saw Hawk across the room, pretending to be resting but actually listening to the other somewhat drunken conversations going on around him. "Why does he hate them that much?"

:: BURP :: was the first reply.

Tank ignored the man's lack of manners. "He's had experience with the soldiers?"

The man took another swig of his drink. His voice was getting progressively slurred. "Something happened years ago. Don't know what. Never heard the details. Just know that he was a soldier. He did his duty. After the war, he rounded them up and killed a lot of them before he got to run the prison. Good riddance to bad rubbish if you ask me."

"He kills the prisoners?" Tank asked.

"What if he does?" the drunken man told him. "Eh, well, no, not all of them. Just a few that will give him a good chase. Most of them, he loans out to the farms and the reconstruction teams and the factories. They do all the hard work. Says since they helped destroy it all, they can help rebuild it all. Some of them, Rogers takes them on the hunt."

Tank thought for a moment. Was Rogers working them to death? Wait… "What do you mean the hunt?"

The man took another gulp of his drink. "The hunt. You know. He hunts them. Gives them to others who hunt them. If you catch 'em, you kill 'em, you win. He lets the other prisoners do the back-breaking labor, so who cares? He likes to use the overunits and youth leaders since they got more training in wilderness survival than the foot soldiers. Makes our guys earn their kill, but he's not picky. It's not like they're important anyway. Just Dreadscum. Even the mayors have turned some of the Dreadheads over to Rogers for his games."

Tank gave the man a bottle, took his leave and walked back toward Hawk.

"Anything?" Tank whispered.

"Got something scary," Hawk answered. "You?"

"Oh, yeah, and it's bad. We need to get out of here. Fast."

Hawk shook his head. "We can't leave until morning. They're shutting down the docking bay for the night in about fifteen minutes. We can't fly out of here now."

They looked around. "Most everyone's leaving," Hawk said. "I say we call it a night."

They walked off, leaving the drunken partygoers on their own.

~*~*~*~*~

Ibold's office was some distance from the banquet hall. As soon as the party began to break up, the mayors quietly and casually retired to the office. There was much they needed to discuss.

"Rogers is going to cause us no end of trouble," Mayor Ibold complained.

Turnbull poured himself another drink. "There's nothing we can do. He's the one in charge around here."

Redding stood at the window, watching the dark clouds move almost imperceptibly in the pale moonlight. "He makes one move against that pilot, what do you think is going to happen? The Power Team will rain hell down on us to protect the woman. You saw how Power looked at her? She's important to him."

Tompkins paced the room. "Rogers won't raise a finger against her. He has to know better than that. It doesn't matter if the pilot was in the Dread Youth. She got away and fought in the Resistance."

Benson shook his head. "It matters to Rogers, and if he does make a move against Power and we do nothing, we can kiss our jobs goodbye because the population idolizes the Power Team. They'll side with them –"

"Outside New Chicago? People will side with them," Ibold quickly interrupted. "Here, people are scared of Rogers. They're afraid he'll put them in the hunt. If he decides to go after Chase, who's going to speak against him? And if he does, the Council will come down on us like a firestorm because of what we've done. Or haven't done. There's no telling if Command will join in. We don't even know if they're aware of what the Committee's doing."

There was quiet. It stretched uncomfortably. "So what do we do?" Redding asked.

Turnbull finished up his drink in one big gulp. "Nothing or Rogers will come after us. But Power and his team better get out of here as quickly as possible before Rogers can make any move. Either way, we'll be the ones who pay."

~*~*~*~*~

An hour before dawn

Rogers waited at the computer terminal impatiently. The entire spectacle was insupportable. A youth leader, passing herself off as a Resistance fighter… there had been no general amnesty. All Dread Youth were to have surrendered to authorities. No exceptions. The flagrant flaunting of the law by one such as that… his anger kept mounting.

He waited…

He waited…

Finally, he received a response. His request was answered.

~*~*~*~*~

Before Dawn The Next Morning

Jennifer tightened the two bolts on the engine. It took all of five seconds for the "needed" repairs to the jumpship. "There, see?" she whispered to the jumpship. "Everything's working perfectly again."

"Slave labor and a manhunt with the total support of the local governments," Hawk said disgusted. "How can this be happening now?"

Scout was still pacing the small aisle in the jumpship. "This Committee worded the orders in a way that allows the loophole. It's all in the paperwork. And how can the Committee come up with these orders if the soldiers are under Command's jurisdiction? This whole thing is confusing. Rogers is taking advantage of it and hiding what he's doing."

Jon shook his head. "This isn't what the laws mean. We need to get to the Council or Command and find out if they know what's going on. Jennifer, is the ship ready to go?"

"Probably more than I am," she said, her voice betraying her concern. After all, it wasn't every day that someone was targeting you because of how you grew up instead of something you've done. It made Jennifer very uncomfortable.

"Okay, let's get out of here."

Hawk took his seat in the co-pilot's chair. "I don't think I've been so glad to get out of a town since the war ended," he muttered.

"It doesn't make any sense," Jennifer said as she powered up the engines. "The Resistance won. Some of the overunits will be in prison for the rest of their lives. It's not like what Rogers is doing can be kept secret for very long. Why wouldn't he want us gone the minute we arrived?"

"Maybe he was being political," Scout suggested. "In any case, all we have is hearsay and our guts telling us this guy is guilty as all get out. We've still got no hard proof, no bodies, nothing."

Jon sat down in the captain's chair. "We'll let the Council and Command worry about that. We just need to get there and report what we've learned and give them what little evidence we have."

A voice sounded over the communicator. "Power Team Jumpship, you are requested to power down your engines and disembark."

"The hell we will," Jon muttered. He reached over and flipped the comm switch next to his seat. In a still somewhat polite voice, he said, "This is Captain Power. Due to recent circumstances, we're unable to comply with your request. Requesting permission to launch."

"Negative, Jumpship," the voice answered. "You're being ordered to stand down immediately or we're allowed to use force."

"Who's this guy kidding?" Scout asked.

"Negative, Chicago Base," Jon answered. "As you just told us -- we were requested, not ordered, and given the nature of our duties assigned to us by the Council, we are unable to honor that request."

A shot was fired across the jumpship's nose, grazing the hull.

"They just shot my ship," Jennifer muttered angrily.

"Jumpship, by the authority of the provincial governor, Major Jason Rogers, you are ordered to power down your engines and disembark."

Jon looked back at Scout. "Did you record all that?"

"Every word, every threat."

"Send a copy of everything we've got to Elzer now. Tell him to get it to the Council and Command immediately."

"Elzer might need someone with a little more influence to get to them," Jennifer added.

"Who do you have in mind?" Jon asked.

"General Grey with the UTO. He's been working as a Command representative the last few months and has helped the Council with a few jurisdictional issues," Jennifer added. "We know him, Command and Council know him -- Elzer might need the general's help."

"Good idea," Hawk agreed.

"Already working on it," Scout said as he punched the buttons on his comm controls. "Sometimes, it's good to know people who have high connections," he said.

Jon spoke into the microphone again. "There had better be a good reason for this."

They heard a banging on the hull. Tank switched on the cameras that showed the exterior of the ship. Rogers and a company of armed guards were standing there.

"Okay, everybody," Jon said. "Get on your game faces."

"Suits?" Hawk asked.

Jon considered it. He knew that this was going to be bad. Politics were over with. Now it was power plays. "Better not. It could make a bad situation even worse. Let's see what he wants."

Jennifer powered down the engines and patted the console. "Be ready to fly, sweetheart. We may have to make a quick getaway."

Jon opened the hatch and walked down the steps first. He said, "Major, I don't like it when people shoot at our ship. That's a hostile act I don't take lightly."

The major stood up even straighter. "I don't like people who harbor traitors, Captain. Unfortunately, the arrest warrant from my superiors only includes Youth Leader Chase and not the rest of you."

They all stopped moving. Youth Leader Chase? If Rogers thought he was going to get away with that…

In a low, threatening voice, Jon asked, "What are you talking about?"

"As per Committee Directive One-Five Stroke Nine, all Dread Youth soldiers regardless of rank are ordered to surrender to Resistance forces. Failure to do so will result in immediate incarceration upon capture, no trial necessary. You are aware of this directive, Captain?"

Jon shook his head. "No, I'm not. I am aware of the Council directive that states that all Dread Youth soldiers regardless of rank are urged to surrender voluntarily and be housed at a military facility under Command's jurisdiction until trial to determine their culpability in the war. Are you aware of that one?"

Rogers scoffed. "In your dreams, Captain. The one that almost promised what I would consider a general amnesty was rescinded in favor of this particular directive."

"And what does that have to do with detaining us?"

Rogers stared at Jon for a moment, a frown almost forming. "Captain, even you are not as stupid as to not realize you have a youth leader as a member of your crew."

Jon's overprotective instincts didn't just go up a notch. This time, they went through the roof. Still, he kept his temper. "I know every member of my team. None of them are youth leaders."

Rogers pulled out a reader. "Jennifer Chase, Dread Youth, youngest appointed youth leader. Was officially assigned to be awarded the rank of overunit after the Sand Town cleansing but disappeared and was presumed killed shortly afterwards. She was present at and took part in the Sand Town massacre."

Jon waited a moment. "And?"

"All of the Dread Youth were to surrender or be taken immediately to prison upon capture. Those are our orders."

Tank took a step forward. "Then go find some Dread Youth soldiers and convince them to surrender. There are none here."

Rogers' guards lifted their weapons and pointed them at the team. "Youth Leader Chase is under arrest and will be incarcerated for her crimes. This warrant allows me to take her into custody and imprison her immediately."

Without warning, Hawk grabbed the warrant and read it. "No, it doesn't. It says you can take a youth leader in your jurisdiction into custody. You wrote in Jennifer's name which means the warrant has no legal binding since the name wasn't included on the document at the time it was issued. Just to let you know, the warrants have to be requested by the governments with jurisdiction and issued by Command. Also, since there are no legal precedents at the moment for provincial governors to be appointed, your title is strictly honorary. This is Dobbinsville, under the jurisdiction of Mayor Ibold. Mayors work for the Council. He'd have to request the Council to petition Command for a warrant if a youth leader was here and was to be arrested. Lastly, there is no Youth Leader Jennifer Chase. You should really check the paperwork, Rogers."

Rogers didn't move. He simply stared at Jon.

Jon made certain he stood between Rogers and Jennifer. "What's your game, Rogers?"

"Game?" Rogers asked. "No game. Dread Youth are all the same. This one…" he pointed his finger at Jennifer, "may have fooled you into thinking she's changed, but they don't fool me. They don't change. Not a one of them has ever broken the conditioning. They're taught from the cradle to kill us. They're just waiting for the time to strike back. Monsters like that don't deserve consideration."

Jon saw unmitigated hatred shining in Rogers' eyes. "They're human, Rogers. They were taken from –"

"Spare me the sob stories, Power," Rogers ordered. "They had no mercy for any human they destroyed. They didn't care when they shot down my parents in cold blood, in the back while they were trying to escape. Or when they drove their tanks over my hometown, crushing people under their wheels, my brother included. They kidnapped my niece and nephew and turned them into monsters just like them. Why should a single human have any mercy for them?"

"We've all lost to Dread," Jon told him. "Every person who survived the wars lost family members, homes, saw everything they ever had destroyed in front of them. That doesn't give anyone the right to –"

"The hell it doesn't," Rogers took a step back, his guards a step forward. "If they resist, shoot them," he ordered.

The rest of the team took defensive positions around Jennifer, and Jon was ready to launch himself at Rogers – Jennifer placed her hand on his shoulder to stop him. He turned toward her and claimed, "He's not taking you."

Jennifer leaned toward him and whispered, "We need proof, remember? All we have is hearsay and our gut. Going inside the prison might get us that proof. I can do recon there while you guys talk to the Council and Command and get me out legally. I can't be the only one he's come after. There's no telling who else is in there."

"Do you have any idea what could happen to you in there?"

"Jon –"

~*~*~*~*~

Jennifer opened her eyes.

There was a dark, stone ceiling above her.

Wait -- wasn't she just outside?

At the landing pad?

She struggled to sit up… she was in a dark cell. It was a barren, dank room with a small window at the top of the door to let in light. There was a smell of mold, decay and sickness in the air. Sounds echoed around her, sounds she couldn't completely make out.

What was that saying that Hawk said sometimes? She didn't think she was in Kansas anymore.

She quickly checked under the sleeve of her uniform – her power suit was still there. Either no one had discovered it or didn't know what it was and had left it alone.

How did she get in the cell?

Rogers must have used a stun blast on them to knock them out. There was no way Jon or the others would have let Rogers take her if they were conscious.

So if she was in a cell, then where were the guys?