Invasion: New York (Invasion America) by Vaughn Heppner Page B

judges who sat on a platform higher than he was, forcing him to look up. It was no doubt another psychological ploy. Each judge wore a uniform, two men and a woman. The woman wore a Detention Center suit of white with brown stripes. She was large, with red hair piled on her head and she sat between the two men. She was in charge, a Public Safety Monitor, First Class. The men were majors in the Militia.
    The woman looked down her nose at Jake. She had a mole on the left nostril, and no doubt, hair sprouted from the mole.
    He found her thoroughly despicable, even though he’d repeatedly told himself while sitting in his cell that he needed to talk softly today. A soft answer turns away wrath . He’d heard that from somewhere, but couldn’t place the saying’s origin.
    “Humph,” the Public Safety monitor said. She scanned an e-reader. “Disorderly and drunken conduct in a—” She glanced at the leftward major, handing him the e-reader. “Am I reading this correctly?” she asked the major. “The offender committed these disloyalties in a strip bar?”
    The pudgy major didn’t take the e-reader, but leaned over, scanning the words in a bored manner. “Oh yes, the offender was in a strip bar. You are correct.”
    “Humph,” the Public Safety monitor said. “I find that disgusting.” She glared down at Jake. “You no doubt frequent these places often.”
    “Uh, no,” Jake said. “I—”
    “Silence!” the monitor said, banging a gavel on a block, making the block jump. She continued scanning the e-reader. Her head swayed back and her eyes widened. Silently, she pushed the e-reader toward the same pudgy major as before.
    His pupils went back and forth. His head jerked back sharply and he eyed Jake anew. “Is this correct?”
    “I don’t know what you’re reading,” Jake said.
    “I can’t see how anyone could possibly speak such treasonous trash as I’m reading here,” the monitor said. “Do you realize we are at war with three different power blocs?” she asked Jake.
    “I do, yes,” he said.
    “The world pours in against us,” the woman said. “We have our backs against the wall and, and—you have the impudence to spout this garbage?”
    “First,” Jake said, in a reasonable tone. “I was extremely drunk.”
    “I cannot believe this,” the monitor said. “Your kind wallows in all kinds of deviancy. Drunkenness, lewdness, sedition—I imagine it’s a long list with you.”
    “Hey, wait a minute,” Jake said. “I’m the furthest thing from seditious. Have you looked at my combat record lately? I was at Denver this winter.”
    The woman glanced at the second major, a thin man with compressed lips. “Is this true?” she asked.
    “I think there’s a broader question,” the man replied. “Is his whereabouts this winter germane to what he spouted in the strip bar?”
    “Yeah it’s germane,” Jake said. “I’ve spilled blood for America. If anyone…” His voice quieted and he stopped speaking.
    The woman raised bushy eyebrows. “It appears you have to think carefully before answering my questions. To my mind, that shows a guilty conscience.”
    “No,” Jake said.
    “He’s argumentative,” the pudgy major said, the one on her left.
    “I cannot believe this,” the monitor said, as she continued reading. “You urinated on your Militia card.”
    “No,” Jake said.
    The woman looked up with astonishment. “Do you dispute the facts?” she asked.
    “Well…not exactly,” Jake said. “I pissed on the card, yeah.”
    The woman stiffened in outrage.
    “I-I mean urinated,” Jake said. “I urinated on it.”
    “So you admit to this lewdness?” she asked.
    “You have to understand,” Jake said. “I have the highest respect for the Militia. My best friends are in it. You should call them. They can tell you about my combat record.”
    “Do you notice what he’s doing?” the pudgy major asked the woman.
    She shook her head.
    “He’s trying to tell us how to run our