“A warrior has no need of peace.” Captain Sam Barker.

Besh did not speak on the final leg of their journey. He respected Sam’s silence. Upon his somber return from the Badger camp, his only words to Besh were, “I owe you six bullets.”

As they drew closer to Port Arthur, small farms gave place to the packed suburban boroughs of a sprawling metropolis. They dropped the Tread Boy at the central garage and asked directions. It was the middle of the day and the temperature had risen appreciably. There was ample time for them to search out Albert’s secret place.

The farmer brought his wagon to a stop, and the four men climbed off the back. Besh thanked the man and turned with the others to assess their destination. They saw an ornate gate between two red brick pillars. A generic coat-of-arms decorated each pillar. The fence around the property was overgrown with ivy that laughed at the cooler days. Tall trees lined a paved driveway beyond the gate.

Raul said to the Captain, “From jarring high tech to plodding burros. I choose the next ride.”

Sam responded, “Beasley said it was a mile. We walked a mile.”

Beasley said, “Jeez! I said I’m sorry. I’ve only been here twice.”

Besh tightened the straps on his backpack and commented, “Well, think of it as a scenic tour.”

The Captain tried the gate and found it immovable. Beasley shouldered past with a polite, “Excuse me,” and opened a panel on the right pillar. He leaned his face into the panel, said, “Gate,” and closed the panel. The gate slid silently aside. He turned to the others and informed them, “The residence is fully voice-activated.”

Sam walked up the driveway. Besh hurried to reach his side and was surprised by a loud rumble from Sam’s belly. He looked to Besh and said, “I’m starting to get hungry.”

Besh responded, “You should have had something with your beer, like the rest of us.”

“I was still angry,” said Sam.

Besh smiled and shrugged, saying, “Perhaps, we’ll find food in the kitchen ahead.”

The long winding driveway brought them, at last, to a rather stout and picturesque log cabin. The flowers around the two-story building had long since dried up from lack of care. Sam pressed a hand against his stomach and turned to Beasley.

“Open her up,” he said.

Beasley walked up the steps to the door and said, “Door.” It swung open. Inside, Beasley said, “Lights,” illuminating a richly appointed dwelling.

Sam walked through the living area and to an open doorway right of a magnificent fireplace. He turned and said, “You three look around. I call dibs on the kitchen.”

Besh watched Sam disappear through the door. He watched Beasley follow Raul up the rustic stairs to the second floor. He turned at a soft noise behind him to see the front door close itself. He removed his backpack and dropped it on the heavy sofa. There were three doors to choose from. There was a door to the left of the fireplace, there was a door under the stairs, both were open. To his left was a closed door. He opened the door and found steps that carried him down to a basement game room. Dim lights brightened as he entered.

Besh passed a pool table in the center of the room. He pulled his hand along the polished trim. All the cues were racked on the wall. No one has played here in a while, he thought. There was a large wall monitor beyond two comfortably padded chairs. A table sat between them with no indication of recent activity. A refrigerated wall unit was found to be empty. There were no magazines, no tell-tale ashtrays, no dirty socks. There was nothing to suggest the residence had seen recent use. There was, however, a door in the far wall.

Besh turned at a noise to see Raul and Beasley enter the game room. Their independent paths led them almost directly to the chairs. They fell into them. Besh walked in front of them and asked a question he already knew the answer to.

“Anything?”

“No,” said Beasley.

Raul echoed the verdict with, “Nada.” Then he added, “No clothes in the closets. No trash in the trash cans.”

Sam stomped into the game room with a glowering expression. “Kitchen’s empty,” he complained. “Not even a can of beans.”

Beasley said, “There is a guest room upstairs. We could return to Port Arthur after a bath and a night’s sleep.”

Sam grumped, “Son. I get real nasty when I get hungry.”

“He does,” said Raul.

Beasley amended, “Well, we can call in and have something delivered.”

“Pendejo,” Raul snapped! “By the time it gets here, the pizza will be cold.”

“I need to get back,” said Sam.

“Well, at least let me call for an Air Skid,” said Beasley.

“Please,” said Raul.

Besh walked to the door and opened it, He called over his shoulder to the Captain, “Sam, you need to see this.”

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” said Sam as he looked inside, then shouldered past Besh. Raul came up from behind and whistled appreciatively.

The inner wall was decorated with mounted guns. Sam took an automatic fifty caliber handgun from the wall and opened the chamber, letting it snap shut. The wall housed an assortment of quality weapons. An APE sat bottom center. Made of black titanium, the Automatic Projectile Emmiter gleamed seductively.

Raul said, “I’ll take the big one.”

“You’ll get a small one,” said Sam happily. “Maybe.”

Besh turned and asked Beasley, “Did you know about the guns?”

“No,” said Beasley, still seated. “I’ve only been here twice, and even then, I usually stayed in the guest room.”

Besh turned back to Sam, who had placed a clip in the gun. He smiled at Besh, fished a box of thirty-eights from the cabinet, and tossed them to him.

“Debt paid,” said Sam.

Beasley called for an Air Skid as they waited upstairs. Raul sat beside him in the chairs that faced the empty fireplace. Sam sat on the heavy sofa polishing the APE with a dry cloth. While Beasley was booking rooms in Port Arthur and Raul held his hands toward an imaginary fire. Besh turned to look through the window. What he saw alarmed him.

Squatting among the trees were armed men dressed in black. Besh counted five. Some of them wore their masks, some did not. Their conversation was animated, the unmasked leader giving instructions. More men joined the five. The leader gestured for his men to encircle the cabin, then stood and pulled on his mask.

Besh turned to Sam with a hushed warning. “Badgers.”

The boys were up. Sam tossed a loaded pistol to each of them. Placing the leather strap of the APE on one shoulder, Sam motioned for Beasley to open the door.

“Door,” he called.

Sam stepped through the opening door calling back, “Hold down the fort.”

Being a stealth weapon, the APE made no noise as Sam fired into the trees. The impact of slender projectiles in the wood was easily heard. Besh motioned for the two young men to take positions by the windows as he ran for the back of the house. The startled cries of the unwary Badgers could be heard as Sam waded in among them.

He approached the back entrance as a masked Badger broke through. Besh raised his gun and fired. The man fell back through the door. An overhead cabinet exploded as a man popped up and fired his pig blaster through a window. Besh ducked to the side and fired again but missed. He could hear the boys firing their weapons. He quickly hid beside the refrigerator standing near the open door and waited. A masked man entered with his gun up. Besh shot him and the man fell awkwardly.

He ducked back to await the next intruder. Suddenly men cried out. The back wall showered the kitchen with splinters of wood and shards of shattered glass. Then, Sam stepped into the room, the seam in his left shoulder ripped and the sleeve dangling. He walked through without a word. Besh followed.

In the living area, Beasley sat against the front wall with Raul tending a painful scratch where his wrist communicator had been shattered. Sam sat on the sofa and pulled another clip from the bag of ammo. Without speaking, Sam pushed the clip into the APE with a slap. Raul helped Beasley to his feet, retrieved his pistol, and placed it in the back of his trousers, making sure his belt held it tightly.

The heavy sofa faced the front door, which stood ajar. Besh stood looking at the back of Sam’s head. He spoke into the stunned silence of the boys. “It appears that Albert’s weapons cache saved our skins.”

Sam answered without turning, “I have mounting respect for this Prince we seek but I’ve run out of people to shoot, and I’m hungry.”

Sam came suddenly to his feet. Holding the APE in a crooked arm and throwing the ammo bag over his free shoulder, he pushed past the stuck door and marched down the driveway. Raul and Beasley followed. Besh was the last to leave. Following at a distance, Besh noted the carnage that littered the unkept grass between the trees. The bark of the trees was shredded where the thin projectiles struck. The wood was deeply pitted. Had the Badgers followed them? Was the attack deliberate, or was it all just bad timing? Had the thugs unknowingly stumbled into a messy end?

The front gate was broken. The Air Skid was broken, the bloody corpse of its driver hanging out through a door that had been damaged by a pig blaster. Sam walked past without speaking. Besh took a moment to search for personal information. There might be family awaiting the man’s return. He found the driver’s I.D., wiped the blood away, and tucked it into a pocket. Poor man, he thought.

Sam led the march back to Port Arthur. Besh trailed behind Beasley and Raul, listening to their conversation. He did not intend to, he simply had no thoughts of his own to occupy his mind. He was still stunned by the turn of events.

“Hey, Beasley,” Said Raul, “how many Badgers did you shoot? I took down four.”

Beasley stammered in return, “I . . . can’t believe I killed someone.”

“Don’t sweat it, man,” Raul replied. “They had it coming.”

“This will not look good on my resume,” Beasley said with a sad shake of his head.

“Man,” Raul complained. “This walking swallows big time. Too bad your communicator got hit.”

“No,” answered Besh. “What’s too bad is the driver of the Air Skid.”

“Yeah, right,” answered Raul. “Sorry. Say,” said Raul, turning to walk backward as he faced Besh, “you got a communicator?”

Besh said, “Sorry, no.”

Beasley asked, “What about the Captain?”

Raul turned to walk forward and said, “Impound.”

They marched into the farmlands just outside the suburbs of Port Arthur. Sam suddenly stopped and sat on a whitewashed wall. The boys sat down from him by several feet. Besh joined the Captain. Behind them, a field of brown corn stalks moved languidly in a gentle breeze. The late afternoon sun chased long shadows across the dirt road.

Sam was slumped forward as Besh seated himself to the right of the sweating Captain. The bag of ammo sat between his black boots and the APE lay across the Captain’s knees, under tired arms. Besh removed his backpack and dropped it into the dirt.

“It shouldn’t be much longer,” said Besh sympathetically.

Sam replied, “I’m tired and cranky. Mostly, I’m hungry. If I don’t get something to eat soon, Beasley will be walking into Port Arthur on one leg.”

Aghast, Beasley asked, “Why me?”

Raul laughed and jabbed a finger into Beasley’s ribs, saying, “Young and tender, man.”

Beasley stood and walked to the center of the road. He turned and replied to the Captain, “Well, I think you should consider a vegetarian diet.”

Sam ripped off the dangling shirt sleeve and tied it around his head. With a deep breath, he heaved to his feet and tossed the ammo bag across his shoulder. With no more to say than a tired, “Let’s go,” he walked up the road.

They arrived in Port Arthur that evening, weary and glum. They passed open storefronts as they walked the urban streets. People eyed the armed Captain with concern as they hurried by. The streets were packed with cyclers and Air Skids, some darting above the ground traffic. The building-corner streetlights kept both street traffic and pedestrian concourse in timed cooperation.

Besh stopped them without warning and said, “Let’s go in this shop.”

Sam said, “Not me. I’ll wait here.” His argument was the large gun he carried.

Besh and the young men entered a communication shop selling, among other devices, wrist communicators. Besh instructed the boys to pick a communicator of their choice. They ran happily among the shelves while Besh turned to shop for the Captain’s and his own needs.

Raul could be heard saying, “Let’s get this one, man. It’s got the new Sound Ticks.”

At the register stood a nondescript youth whose sole notoriety was the large pimple beside his nose. Besh produced the rolled parchment and allowed the youth to scan the royal seal. Suddenly animated, the youth finalized the transaction with fawning deference. They stepped outside into a brisk evening breeze. Raul and Beasley were strapping on their new acquisitions excitedly. Besh looked up to find the Captain trying to deal with two policemen.

Heavily dressed in militaristic protective gear, one spoke with Sam as the other stood apart with his hand on the hilt of his sidearm. They looked serious and Sam looked annoyed. Sam stood with the ammo bag at his feet, the APE was slung back across his bare shoulder. Besh walked up and took over. He produced the parchment and allowed them to scan the seal. He surrendered Sam's gun and ammo into their custody. Next, he produced the dead driver’s ID and informed the policemen of the encounter with the armed Badgers.

One officer returned to the squad car to put the confiscated arms in the trunk and call in the incident. One remained. His tone of voice changed when he heard the tale of Sam’s encounter with the Badgers. The challenge was gone from his voice, replaced by respect. In the end, he thanked the Captain for his patriotic action and handed Besh his card. Besh promised to send their address when they got checked into rooms for the night. Quick and succinct. Besh turned to Sam with a relieved ‘problem solved‘ expression on his face.

“Let’s find you a restaurant,” said Besh.