The main drag had been cleared, and a couple of blocks on either side had been cleared for a distance of a half mile. Most of the business district was located alongside Highway 44 and Highway 182, mostly around the intersection of the two roads. Nelson drove slowly, surveying the mostly deserted area. The only vehicles were military, and the civilians had made themselves scarce. There would be some watching, curiosity would draw some as close as they dared. There was nothing to fear, unless they planned on mischief. And Nelson had little doubt that there were some who did. The enemy had operators even in a small town like Glendale. Population 14,244 according to the sign they'd passed on the way in. "Pretty calm," Mack said. Mack Garrison was younger than him - most of the men were. At fifty-six he was about average among the old-timers, but most of the recruits were younger. "Yeah. Locals are nervous, not knowing what to expect. Let's get the base locked down before they get over the shock." Probably close to half of the fourteen thousand had left before the battle. They knew it was coming and many of the people in small towns knew places in the countryside to go and wait it out. The reduced population would make it easier. The local high school campus proved to be an easily managed venue for the processing. It was contained within four city blocks, and the city fathers had thoughtfully run a divided four-lane street along each side. The officers and NCOs were in the football stadium, watched by a couple of platoons of Mastadon company. The enlisted personnel, just a few over a thousand, were camped out in a field just outside the city limits. Most of them were in unfamiliar territory and without anyone to give orders they weren't going to cause any trouble. If any of them wanted to abscond they were welcome to do so. Nelson drove through the main entrance and stopped at the improvised checkpoint. A staff sergeant and a PFC stood just outside the barrier. The sergeant saluted, Nelson returned it. "Good evening sir," the man said. He pointed to a mid-2000s Jeep Wrangler just inside the gate. "If you follow that Jeep they'll lead you to the gymnasium." "Thanks, sarge." Mastadon group had several dozen of the Jeeps, painted a flat dark grey. Several were used for staff cars around the base. Nelson proceeded through the gate and the Jeep moved away. The gymnasium was just a couple hundred yards ahead. Nelson took one of the parking spaces marked with the company flags and killed the engine. He looked over at Mack. "Ready?" he asked. "Let's do it." A small group of officers converged on the car as they got out. A lieutenant colonel in front saluted him. Rammsey. Nelson knew him slightly. "At ease, Colonel," Nelson said. "Everything ready?" "All ready sir, as you ordered." "Lead on." Nelson and Garrison followed Ramsey and a couple of junior officers, trailed by a squad of men armed with 10mm Heckler & Kock MP5s. Ramsey was wearing a 10mm Glock 40 MOS like the ones he and Garrison wore. Like everyone else who could their hands on one since he and Mack had started the fashion. They were now in short supply he had told General Talley to issue a reminder that unauthorized sidearms were prohibited. He didn't want any enlisted man who happened to have a connection to acquire one showing up on duty with one. The gymnasium was huge for a small town high school. A lot of them were, as schools large and small competed to spend the most money on athletic facilities. One of the problems with the country, he thought. Obsession with sports even among nominally decent citizens had made marginally intelligent people millionaires, even billionaires. And in most cases their character was no better than their intellect. Inside the regime delegation was milling around one end of the basketball court, apparently not paying much attention to the large dais at the other end, but keeping their distance. A dozen or so military personnel were standing on it. It was still draped in the blue and gold colors of the school, probably from the last event it was used for. Nelson took the lead as they entered, Garrison at his side. Lieutenant Colonel Ramsey and his men followed. The men on the dais snapped to attention as they mounted the stairs, Nelson returned the salute and ordered them at ease. Several civilians emerged from a door behind the dais and came up another stair on the back. Stephen Sullivan was the de facto chief minister of the southern branch of the Alliance, and was accompanied by Reginald Mosley, his opposite number with the north branch. Several aides who accompanied them stood around chatting some distance away. Nelson surveyed the small group, about forty mostly middle-aged men. Just a handful of women, mostly under forty, and a few younger men. One man about his age appeared to be holding forth on something to several of his fellows. He looked familiar, but didn't immediately ring a bell. "Guy says he knows you." It was Ramsey. "Who is he?" "The local supervisor," Ramsey replied. "He's from Chicago, something in the state government before the war started. He was here coordinating defense. Name's Edward Fallis. Edward Woods Fallis, according to his ID." The name rang a bell, faintly. From almost forty years ago. "He wants to talk to you privately." "Who does he think he is?" Nelson asked. "Besides a prisoner? Never mind, I know who he thinks he is. Bring him up and I'll enlighten him with the reality." "Want me to bring him up here?" Nelson gestured to the wall behind the dais. "Is there a room available back there?" he asked Ramsey. "Yes, sir. Several, a couple of what look like small offices." "Good. Take him back there and let me know when he's ready." "Yes, sir. Do you want some security? We gave them all a quick frisk and scan." Hardly necessary, Nelson thought, but no reason not to be safe. Fallis was one of he last two or three men on earth likely to get physical with anyone. This should be interesting. Four decades ago he'd been working at a small bank in a small town in Arkansas and going to the nearby community college at night. The Fallis brothers - Humphrey and Frederick - were the majority shareholders and ran the bank. Nelson had gone to school with one of the children, one of Frederick's daughters. She was one of the two honor students when they graduated, Nelson was the other. She wasn't happy about it, a farmer's kid, and not a rich farmer's kid. Edward, or Woody as he preferred to be called, was two years older. After college he had gone to DC to work for one of the Arkansas congressmen, but during an administration change a few years later returned home. Couldn't stand the Republicans, he said. Said it to Nelson. He had gone to work at the family bank, apparently unable to find a job that suited him. Or maybe to find any job. He resented Nelson, who was popular with the staff because of his expertise and affability. Woody resented him for the same reasons his kid sister did. Nelson was an honor student who never took books home to study and drew pictures in study hall, while she had to study fanatically to keep up. Nelson stayed on for a couple of years before he tired of the abuse - and baiting his nemesis in subtle ways - before he tired of the game and went to work for the software developer that maintained the computer systems at the bank. For over twice the money. Worse, several long-time employees quit soon afterward. Nelson didn't know or care what had happened to him, but did see his name occasionally and was vaguely aware that he was living in Illinois or some such cesspool. Apparently he was in state government now. It figured. He saw Fallis being separated from the group and escorted around the back of the dais. Shortly Ramsey returned. "He's in the room to the left of the hallway," he said. "I left two men at the door." "Excellent. Thanks, Colonel. We'll be back shortly. Mack, want to go?" Mack grinned. He didn't know the story but suspected some entertainment was up. "Wouldn't miss it." The door was a short distance from the steps. One of the guards opened it and preceded them inside, scanned the room. "Anything else, Sir?" "No, we're good." The guard rejoined his colleague outside. Fallis hadn't aged well, Nelson thought. Not as well as me anyway. Put on some weight, going bald. Defeat hadn't helped his present appearance, he supposed. A small table and four chairs was on one side of the room, a desk and a couple of swivel chairs on the other. Nelson and Ramsey sat down and leaned back, watched Fallis. He was sitting on the far side of the table. He tried to sit still, and years in the political world had probably made the control of body language automatic. Still he was uneasy, and before long the waiting was too much. "Do you remember me?" he asked. Nelson looked over at Ramsey, back at Fallis. "Vaguely," he replied. "I wouldn't remember you at all if you weren't such a repellent individual. What do you want, as if it matters?" "I'm responsible for the safety of this community," Fallis replied. "I would have asked to talk with the commander in any case, but when I saw it was you..." "You're a piece of work," Nelson interrupted. "You think I've forgotten the kind of cretin you were the last time I saw you? People like you don't change, unless it's for the worse." "I just want to ensure there is no..." "No what?" "No abuses of the people here." "Is that what you think we do? I know it's what your 'news' people say, to keep the population stirred up. This place will be processed as usual, it will be under martial law of course, and property may be requisitioned as necessary for our operations. That may or may not require movement of some people. "But you know that. Or should, one never knows just how deluded one person or another may be. In any case the only reason I had you brought in here was for a bit of amusement. You're going away, and if you're lucky the war will be over seen and you'll be repatriated. "But not to the world you knew. You people, the ones who don't go to prison, will lose all your ill-gotten loot. You might even prefer prison to having to scrape out an existence at your age, and in a hostile world. "You thought you were pretty smart, choosing the right side, you were one of the elite. Wealth and privilege, no accountability for stepping on little people along the way. Not it's time to pay up." Nelson stood up and turned to the door, Ramsey following. He glanced at Fallis, his face in his hands. "He probably expected to get some special treatment," Nelson said. "Had it all his life, born into it. If I were inclined to make exceptions he wouldn't like the special treatment I'd give him. He's a piece of human debris, to be swept up with the rest." Alexander Anthony Archibald Charles Daniel Frederick George Henry Horatio James Josiah Nathaniel Philip Rafe Reginald Robert Sidney Simon William Arthur Francis Hugh Jack Stephen Ambrose Cornelius Humphrey Peregrine Montague Richard Aaron Gabriel Isaac Matthew Moses John Thomas William Aldophus Augustus Benedict Bernard Bertram