Gray Panthers: Dixie by David Guenther Page A

other.
    “Sam, you ever see one of these before?” he asked, holding up the stick for her to see.
    “That’s new to me. Lieutenant, do you know what that is?” she asked, pointing to Scotty and the stick.
    “Never seen one before. It resembles what our ranchers—oh, God, those bastards are going to pay for this!” Semmes walked over to Scotty and grabbed the stick. When he pressed the button on the handle, a bright spark of electricity buzzed between the prongs.
    “God damn them to hell! Those bastards are using cattle prods on our people! Gunners, man your guns. The rest of you, with me,” Semmes growled out as he gripped his carbine and headed for town. The scouts lined up abreast of him and proceeded to the town. The smell got worse the closer they came.

Arizona Space Ship Beater, orbiting the Flem home world
    31 October 2128
    The mood on board the ship was dark as the realization of the unintentional genocide wore heavy on the crew. Captain Johnson had become distant from the crew, rarely leaving his cabin. Guns and Jimmy made it a point to defend the captain when they caught others whispering about his disengagement from the battle and somber quietness. They had been through their own hell before and wouldn’t let their commander be brought down.
    Johnson was enjoying the picnic with his children and grandchildren. The sky was blue and only a few white fluffy clouds were high in the sky. A nice breeze complemented the heat. The smell of blossoms was in the air. Everyone sat down at a picnic table, preparing to say grace before eating. As they all bowed their heads and clasped their hands, he stood at the end of the table leading the prayer. He alone saw the fireball that swept over the table, incinerating everyone. Their clothes were burned off and their blackened skin peeled and bled. The sweet, sickly acrid smell of the burnt flesh and hair filled his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. None of them had eyes. He looked into the burned-out, blackened sockets in their hairless skulls. They all reached out to him for help, wailing in such misery he couldn’t even recognize it as human. It sounded more like the mewing of sick kittens. Johnson woke screaming. The bed was soaked with sweat, and he had urinated in his sleep.
    He wrapped his arms around his legs and rocked back and forth on his soiled bunk. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the civilians being burned alive on the space dock.
    Short Blade was confused by those around him. They had completed their mission. The enemy had been destroyed, and they had suffered no casualties. He didn’t understand collateral damage.
    Commander Poland sat in the captain’s seat on the flight deck and one of the Dart pilots sat at the pilot’s position. The remoteness of the Flem home world meant no one bothered to come here anymore. The surface of the planet was widely known to be hostile to any plant introduced to it. Rumors had spread about the radioactive death that awaited those who tried to dig out the Flem cities that the Flem had poisoned when they fled their home world.
    Poland’s thoughts changed to his captain. For some time the captain had appeared to be losing it, and the gas giant massacre seemed to have been the last straw. Poland wondered whether the crew would follow him if he were to assume command. No matter how he played out the scenario in his mind, relieving the captain of his duty was mutiny.
     

City of New Mississippi, planet Dixie
    31 October 2128
    In the center of the road going into the city, where the buildings were closest together, was a box. When the team finally got up close to it the box started making a humming sound that dropped everyone to the ground gasping in pain. Semmes couldn’t concentrate, the pain was so intense, but he eventually managed to point to the box. Back at the vehicles, the gunners saw the team go down and the lieutenant point toward a box. Davis looked over at Jefferson, who stood behind the other machine