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   Chapter 43 No.43

Prodigal Sun By Christina Engela Characters: 5660

Updated: 2018-07-20 19:01

"The Palace is surrounded, General!" Krant reported. "They've locked all the doors. We believe the Governor is inside with all his staff!"

"Didn't we have an agent inside?" Clayne wondered aloud, a slight frown furrowing his brow. "Why hasn't he unlocked the door?"

"There has been no response from the agent inside, General!" Krant reported.

"Have you tried knocking then, eh Krant?" Clayne chided, smiling at his own little joke. "Where are your manners, hmm? Come on, let's find you a bigger door-knocker – it's time to meet the former Governor!"

Krant growled involuntarily, the outside ends of his lips twitching to form a vengeful smile. He'd been looking forward to this day for a very, very long time! This would be the day when he would have the former Governor appear before him, and let him know in no uncertain terms exactly who he was dealing with – his very own flesh and blood – denied and abandoned! He longed to see the look in his father's eyes... that look of recognition – soon to be followed with a look of realization, and of course, terror!

While Clayne and Krant walked away from Michael Francis, towards the steps leading to the front door of the Palace, Francis moved towards the far end of the Square along the outside of the cordon, where the troops were funneling the crowd towards the only exit. Francis looked back when he heard Krant shouting: "You two – cut those filthy rags down!"

He watched as two soldiers broke ranks and ran towards the flag poles in front of the Palace. Drawing daggers from their belts, they slashed the cords holding the Imperial and Colonial flags up. The entire column cheered as the Crow and the Jack both slipped to th

eg, regaining her full attention. "Your SOD's are clearly not a match for whatever is going on out there – not a sodding match, er – if you don't mind my saying so! We have to call out the Reserves!"

"Now just a crabby-grass kickin' minute, Governor – sir!" She began, raising an irate finger. "I -"

"Umm… Sir?" The Governor's aide interrupted. He was a tall thin man wearing an expression that might have been #255 Diplomatic Deadpan, "Sorry, Sheriff – Governor, Deanna hasn't got any military Reserves!"

An awkward silence fell.

"No… military reserves on Deanna?" Landry repeated. The aide shook his head.

"None!" Peg added, feeling her patience wearing a little thin.

"But…" Landry spluttered. "I remember seeing some mention of a reservist association in some files a little while back!"

"Yes, Governor." His aide agreed – those are mostly pensioners and retired veterans – they do Sunday picnics, pensioner discounts, specials at the prosthetic devices counter at C.J.'s – maybe a little dynamite fishing on weekends, that sort of thing – they aren't formally part of any actual military reserve unit!"

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