Chapter Eighty:     Indignities


events of Thursday, June 18 as related by ART

John-- or rather Agent/Major John Stinger --wrote how I was ready to shoot the leader of our paramilitary attackers in the face, but refrained, me being a law-abiding citizen and all. All right, now I'm glad that I didn't do it, but I if they had gone ahead and killed Elaine first with their fucking head-crushing machine, I'm pretty sure I would have shot the guy. Can you imagine the indignity I felt?

It wasn't just that they were going to ruthlessly murder us in cold blood, but that they were going to do it as an excuse to start a war against all Nokhons. And while we were questioning them, their bastard leader said, "Only name and serial number," as if they were patriotic American soldiers on a noble mission for the Land of the Free and we were the enemy. Again, the indignity!

I studied our captives and asked: "Where do they even dig up such willing Gestapo thugs like these guys?" It was meant to be a rhetorical question.

But Stinger answered for them anyway: "These guys aren't random draftees, they're private-sector mercenaries. Normally, they work in the Congo or Yemen. Back in the Trump presidency they worked as ICE border patrols that deliberately separated babies from their asylum-seeking mothers so that they could sell them, making a profit off human trafficking. Their cruelty is strategic and money is their motive."

We soon had all eight mercenaries handcuffed with plastic ties into a human chain of inter-woven arms and legs, then rolled the whole clump of them inside one of their two Humvees. Daklakht, Dagrolyt and Dabronat were right beside the open side-door so nobody was slipping out.

But then their bastard leader said, "You'd better just let us go or you'll be in a shitload of trouble. We're under orders from high up."

"You mean we'd be better off to cut you loose and allow you to finish murdering us?" I had to ask, more than slightly offended.

"It'll all work out the same anyway," said the bastard with an arrogant shrug.

Daklakht was standing right next to us, so I politely spoke to him in Nokhontli, asking him to do me a little favor. He bobbed his head and smiled, glad to help. Then he easily pulled the whole clump of seven interlocked soldiers out of the Humvee with one hand and gently dumped them into a pile on the lawn. Dagrolyt brought the head-crushing device from the other Humvee and placed it right beside the bastard leader. Daklakht took the bastard's whole head in one hand and lined it up with the device, then tucked that head in between the fake Bigfoot fingers. Exactly what they had been doing to me.

All we had to do was push the lever down and his head would be pulp. No matter how the bastard squirmed and screamed, he could not resist Daklakht's strength nor his intent. He was begging and crying, as were all the other mercenaries too, thinking they'd be next.

Of course, we never pushed the lever, even though I'm convinced that they were absolutely going to do that to Elaine and to me without a qualm. We just let them worry about it for a while. And they did, intensely, which was quite satisfying.

Suddenly I realized that I needed to warn Adam and the kids in Washington DC, just in case this militia had actually been sent by some rogue branch of the Government out to target us for... for whatever reason, who the fuck knows? The attack had taken place after midnight, it was now 1:30 am, so it would be 5:30 Thursday morning for them.

Melly took the phone and caught on to the seriousness of the warning right away because of all the violence going on around the Capitol the day before, and put it on loudspeaker as Adam was waking the others.

I gave a brief report: the militia attack, the diabolical head-crunching machine, the rescue; assuring everyone that we were all right, thanks to Daklakht and John Stinger. I ended the call with, "So watch out, kids!"

That duty done we moved on to the next task:

"What are we going to DO with them?" Elaine asked, "it might not be best to take them to the local police if they really ARE connected to some Governmental agency. They might just be set free..."

"...and come back again to carry out their orders," I finished her train of thought. "Maybe we could take them to Earl," meaning Earl Chesterton, a personal friend and Monroe's Chief of Police.

"No, Elaine is right," Agent Stinger insisted, "they'll just disappear into the National Security Excuse Limbo if you don't go through the right channels. Leave that to me."

"So, John, are you in the CIA or NSA or what?" I asked him.

"I'm in Or What. But I do know who to address to put them out of circulation, at least locally."

We had let the frightened soldiers moan and cry until they collapsed from it, or fainted. Then we tossed the whole bundle of them back into the Humvee to drive into Seattle and deliver them. Evidently there's a covert safe house there, although Stinger couldn't give us details. But he did invite Daklakht to come along, driving the second Humvee. Daklakht was enthusiastic; in fact, he seemed to be having fun.

Daklakht didn't have a driver's license yet, but he had practiced enough driving with Agent Stinger to have become skilled at it, we had been planning to help him get a license any time soon. The Humvee was large enough to fit three Nokhons if they removed the driver's seat to give Daklakht enough room to assume a workable driving position. Luckily, the Humvee had an automatic gearbox.

Elaine and I were aware that Agent Stinger was eager to recruit Dakklakht into some kind of Nokhon Commando Unit, but we weren't about to accuse him of being opportunistic when he had just saved our lives and done it with Nokhons. At that moment we felt he had something going on there.

So off they went: two gigantic personnel carriers filled with three squatches, a cluster of handcuffed mercenaries and one and one undercover "language student". We weren't allowed to know where to, that was classified.

They returned later that day in one of the Humvees-- Stinger had "requisitioned" it and apparently had the rank to get away with it. They had also been stopped on the freeway by the State Patrol, who had seen three sasquatches having fun in a Humvee and reacted. But once again Stinger made a call and the State Trooper was quickly ordered from higher up to "let the damned Bigfoots pass, they're on a secret mission for the Department of Defense". But Stinger did have to promise to get a driver's license for anyone under his command who was driving a vehicle.

What disposition had been arranged for the swat team was not mentioned, but we were assured they could not return to murder us. Seems there are agencies within agencies and deals go down, and Agent/Major John Stinger had some clout in that world.

It was still a question as to exactly WHO had given those mercenaries illegal orders to murder us and whether or not they could be prosecuted, depending upon how high up the military food chain they were, but Stinger was working on that.

The next day Agent Stinger took all three of his favorite squatches, Daklakht, Dagrolyt and Dabronat, to the Department of Motor Vehicles in Everett and applied for driver's licenses, took the tests and they all passed. Whether or not they passed because of Stinger's very handy clout with officialdom, I don't know, but they did all manage to control their vehicles well enough not to crash, and also speak English well enough to muddle through the test instructions. At least with Stinger as coach and translator.

Other Nokhons started to become interested in Stinger's project. Of course, what they really wanted was their own Humvees, once they saw how Daklakht now seemed to be the proud driver of that colossal chunk of motorized skesk, forgotten that it was a colossal violation of Atli. Just being able to play with it was a terrific bribe to get recruits for his Nokhon Commando Unit.

Daklakht had still not agreed to dedicate himself to that project, but he was definitely sympathetic and accommodating to his new human friend. In fact, I'd have to say that his personality improved. Daklakht had always been a serious type: as Alutna-jii he'd always had to be strict and proper. He'd also suffered years under psychic domination by his worst enemy, the inherently evil Da-starda-hat. But that he was free at last was tempered by what he considered his utter failure in Shamballah, so he has been dour and gloomy ever since.

But now he seems a lot more relaxed, even smiles sometimes. He'd always been a man of few words-- and I suppose he still is --but he says nicer words now. His English is still limited and stiff-- he speaks it something like Arnold Schwarzenegger when he'd just begun making American movies, but I guess if you're going to be an action hero, maybe that's the way to sound.

I don't know how much longer John Stinger wants to keep studying Nokhontli with us, he's got a command of the basics but is not quite fluent yet. Actually, we'd like to have him stay a while longer-- if only for our own safety's sake. But also because we like him. And he definitely likes to be here, that's pretty clear. I think he's a lot like Daklakht: a lonely loner who is considering making some changes in his life. And they both like the Hacienda women.

But we've only known him for a month, it's too soon to be inviting him into our inner circle of confidants. Kha-rats, shyøma, Aket, and all that. We know he has an agenda: his Nokhon Commandos, so maybe we'd better watch out. He may have loyalties that do not coincide with our non-military interests. But Adam seems to trust him and that means a lot.








Chapter 81

Adam Into Babylon