A sequel of sorts to "Mystery Hole", continuing the adventures of (now) General Macmanus. Wonder if I should continue this one, or just jump to another new story entirely...

SIEGE OF GROOM LAKE

General Roderick MacManus tightened his belt and secured the long cudgel held there. Night had fallen and with it the Groom Dry Lake Complex. Dreamland's drone fighters had been disabled, but not with EMP, or firepower, but by a set of giant bolas designed by the gauchos who had joined the General in his guerrito.

"There's no school like the old school," he muttered to himself. Though the complex as a whole had been subdued, there was no way he'd occupy it just yet. The techs had to investigate every nook and cranny first.

The General was no tech, but he had some exploring of his own to do.

MacManus left his tent, crossing the length of the camp in the frigid Nevada night. At the other end was a series of Quonset huts and low outbuildings. They had been unused by the inhabitants of Groom Lake for quite some time, but were getting some use now. This was the brig.

There were plenty of guards here, and they saluted briskly as MacManus approached. One soldier did not. A double-headed Prussian eagle decorating his lapels, he remained seated at a makeshift duty station, tapping on a pad of paper. He looked up at the General and scowled.

"At least stand up, Colonel Tidewater. Your insubordination is giving me a goddamned rash." The Colonel did just that, but smiling now.

"Ready for the festivities, General?"

MacManus nodded. He adjusted his cudgel and belt again, in an uncharacteristic display of nervousness.

"This could be the greatest thing that's ever happened to us, you know. I've said it plenty of times, but it's true. I still don't look forward to hearing what I'm sure we'll hear." He strode forward into the prison complex without further ado.

It was bright, surprisingly. There were floodlights in this courtyard, darkened by age, but it had only taken a few minutes' work by some of the techs to get them going again. There wasn't much to see here, just a few more soldiers and the other side of the buildings. The General knew right where he was going, and Colonel Tidewater trotted to catch up, four guards in tow.

Two more guards- how could he even think about keeping their names straight- admitted them to the largest of the outbuildings. There, beyond a reinforced interior door was a room lit by a bare bulb, and in it, the prisoner. MacManus unbarred the door and swung it wide. The prisoner looked up at him, and his smirk disappeared as soon he saw the General loom over him.

The prisoner was a small man with a tight helmet of red hair, and dimpled cheeks on a freckled face that made him seem like a leprechaun or something.

He had been found working in some sort of control center, in a white paper coverall that was now covered in dirt, dust, and some sort of orange smear.

"Tidewater!"

"Sir?" MacManus bent down to look at the cowering prisoner's clothes. Tidewater walked closer just as MacManus sniffed the dirty coverall.

"What is this substance?"

Tidewater's grin was unreadable. He was either intensely embarrassed or greatly amused. "Pizza grease, Sir."

MacManus stood and shook his head. He leveled a huge, stubby finger at the prisoner. "It's one thing that you guys have complicity with one of our oldest enemies, but this…" He drew the cudgel with blinding speed and poked the prisoner in the gut with it. "The world ended, and almost every man-woman-and-child died with it. Yet somehow, you have pizza. AND YOU'RE NOT SHARING!"

He was bellowing, then, and poking the prisoner repeatedly. The little man had gone from trembling and shaking to resolute despair. MacManus put the cudgel away and turned his back on the prisoner. The little man sighed, and MacManus knew that he was going to spill his guts. It was a little surprising that he would be break so soon, but the real surprise came when the speech let loose.

The General actually jumped. "Sweet soul sister, what the hell is that noise?"

Colonel Tidewater's grin was pure glee now, as if he had just been waiting for the joke to resolve itself, so he could deliver the punchline.

"Hungarian, sir."

MacManus covered his face with his hands and sighed much like his prisoner had. "Hungarian… are they all Hungarian?"

Tidewater nodded. "Corporal Talent has only a passing familiarity with Hungarian. Something about dissimilarity with the other Slavic languages. He says with uninterrupted study and full cooperation with the prisoners, he can be fluent in a week."

"Goddamit, we don't have a week, and these bastards will hardly cooperate without us being able to communicate, unless…"

"Sir?"

The General suddenly jerked himself upright, his eyes shining. A deep smile soon followed. He punched the Hungarian good-naturedly in the arm, which was followed by the prisoner's frightened whisper. "Get one of our birds northwest to the Hawthorne Ammo Plant. I want you to personally talk to the Abbot of Hell Buddha Monastery and ask to borrow a monk named Brother Tengu. Remind our friends of the Third Treasure." Tidewater looked confused, but MacManus continued. "While you're there, if any of the masters from the Lancet of Jade Tower want to tag along, they are most certainly welcome. Get going, Colonel, ASAP." The General cracked his knuckles. "I need to think. Colonel Spector will remain in charge of work in the compound, and Major Arnold will have command of everything else. That is all."

"Mac… I mean, General… why me?"

MacManus gave him an apprising look. "Because of your sweet disposition, Colonel. Now get the hell out of here!"

With that, the General walked into the night.