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post—ladies standing outside of the family center and a group of uniformed men walking leisurely along, traffic was everywhere—it seemed so completely wrong. How could anything be functioning normally with what was happening in the world not only outside the country, but outside the very gates of their homes. He skidded to a stop at the access point and jumped from the truck.
    The noise from the protesters sucker-punched him. Military Police (MPs) were in force at the gate, clearly prepared should things turn really ugly. Right now they were far from pretty.
    DT, Beck and Dekker fell into line beside him as he marched for the guardhouse, teeth clenched. The anger and fear burning in him urged him to charge into the crowd, but some small sliver of his training had him nailed to sanity’s cross. He could easily make a bad situation worse. Local police had formed a line across the road in front of the gate. Standing shoulder to shoulder they faced the angry crowd. Camera crews were all angling for the best footage. The demonstrators kept the legal buffer before the access-control point, but they were still blocking the road. Police on bullhorns threatened arrest and officers were already in action. Where in the hell was Mari?
    He intended to speak to the officer in charge at the gate, but before he could say or do anything, he heard Holly Gear shouting. “Let her go! She’s pregnant and frightened. Call Lt. Col. Roger Weston on post NOW! I am Senior Airman Holly Gear and she is the wife of Major Neil Dalton.”
    Roger snapped his gaze to the right and saw Holly in the middle of being arrested by the local police. She and Mari had been separated out from the crowd and were on the post’s side of the police lineup. Mari sat on the ground. Even from where he stood he could see that she was distressed, breathing heavily, shoulders shaking, head bowed. She had her hands cuffed behind her and a jerk of a cop was pulling roughly on her arm, shouting at her to get up. She struggled to do as he asked, but slipped back down and the officer pulled out his nightstick.
    Roger saw red and moved like lightning. He barely registered that Dekker, Beck and DT were right beside him. The MPs at the access gate took one look at him and moved out of the way. He passed the gate and the cameramen filming the incident went for him like wild rats on a Cheeto.
    Roger wanted to tear apart the officer roughing up Mari and that rage rang loud and clear when he yelled at the policeman. “Let go of her now!”
    Dekker spoke up as well. “Release the women, officer, and step away. I am General Dekker. Senior Airman Gear is under my command and Mrs. Dalton is in our care. Who is in charge here?”
    An officer involved in Holly’s arrest stepped forward. “I am.”
    “Exactly what is going on here?”
    “Neither of them have ID and neither of them halted their approach to the post when ordered to do so. Especially her.” The officer nodded at Mari. “Given the way she’s dressed, we weren’t taking any chances.”
    Mari had on her black abaya.
    “Senior Airman Gear, what’s the story here?” Dekker demanded.
    To say that Holly was furious was an understatement. She managed to snarl at the policeman and yet address General Dekker with respect. “The OFFICERS HERE repeatedly refused to listen to Mrs. Dalton, sir. She wanted them to call the Lt. Col. She was frightened and they kept pushing her back into the crowd, which only made her situation worse. After handcuffing her, they refused to let me go get our IDs, which are in the car about twenty yards back. The reason Mrs. Dalton left the car is because it is covered with out-of-control protesters who scared the hell out of her. The POLICE should be arresting THEM instead of us.”
    Dekker got in the officer’s face. “Uncuff them now and get these camera vultures out of here.”
    It a damn good thing the policeman uncuffing Mari had put up his nightstick, otherwise Roger would have decked the