A Young Girl’s Outer Heaven
23
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Commissioned by kyo amamoto.
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The engines droned loudly as Sam stood and grabbed hold of one of the bars overhead. A red light turned on above, illuminating the inside of the transport plane and the group of eighteen men inside. Looking over them as they looked back at him, Sam eventually nodded.
“Alright gentlemen, we’re past the point of no return. Dog tags. Wallets, cash, coins. Cigarette packs—you can keep your smokes, but the packs have to go. C-Rats. You were all issued Russy equipment for this—if you’ve got any of your normal gear on, it’s gotta go. Anything that can identify you, has your name or Uncle Sam’s on it, pass it to the front,” he instructed, and the men began pulling off their tags and passing them forward, along with various other items and money. Sam put it all in a wooden box as it came forward.
Once the flow of materials stopped, Sam set the box aside. “Look around you. Look to your left. Look to your right. You may see some familiar faces. Every one of you was chosen because you have something in common. It’s not because you’re mages, or because many of you worked as saboteurs behind enemy lines. Every one of you is single, no children, and with a brother or sister at home who isn’t enlisted. You are all, in a word, expendable. If anything goes wrong, help isn’t coming. You’re up against overwhelming odds in unknown, hostile territory. If you succeed and make it home, these events never happened and you can never speak of them; you will not be rewarded or thanked and no one can ever know you were here. If you get captured or killed, the United States will deny your existence. For some of you, this may be a one-way ticket. And I know this doesn’t make that any easier to swallow, but I promise that it is worth it. The future of our nation depends upon the success of this mission. Failure is not an option.”
Tapping into his computation orb, he created a hologram in front of him, showing their destination. “This is the city of Bellum, in Brasa, South America. This,” he zoomed in and highlighted an island situated in a river to the west of the city, “is Colina, where our targets are holed up in an old barracks that’s recently been renovated. You’ll be air dropping just outside of the village of Santa Maria, thirteen miles to the west, across Marajo Bay. These are the enemy,” the hologram changed again to show a group of men and a couple of women, all wearing uniforms none of them except Sam had ever seen before.
“MSF. Military Without Borders, in English. As you can probably guess, these aren’t actually locals. They’re a group of mercenaries who have been hired by the locals to run ops in country. The core group, the ones you have to be worried about, are all German nationals—former members of the German Army. These aren’t your run of the mill grunts, however. This is, or was, Salamander—an experimental rapid response task force answering directly to the German central command. If you were in theater, you’ve probably heard of these guys, if not directly then because someone you know got wiped out by them. The core of Salamander is the 203<sup>rd</sup> Aerial Mage Division. I cannot stress this enough: Do. Not. Underestimate them. The 203<sup>rd</sup> and Salamander were the best of the best of the best, and assuming that time away from the war has dulled their edge will get you killed.”
Advancing to his next slide, Sam brought up a pair of faces. “On your left is the leader of MSF. Formerly a lieutenant colonel before she decided to quit the field for greener pastures, Tanya von Degurechaff is now a general directly in the employ of the Brasa Army, so that complicates things if you’re discovered.” Looking over the gathered men, he saw some of them looked skeptical. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking she’s just a kid and that we’ve got bad intel. You’re wrong. That, gentlemen, is The Devil of the Rhine.”
There was some muttering at that. Of course all of them had heard of her, the government put out a list of Named mages and mana signatures attached to them of people to beware of. For the Devil, the last standing orders about her just before the war ended were to flee on detection unless they had a huge numerical advantage—four to one minimum against her and her people.
“Knock it off!” Sam roared, and they shut up. “Yes, she’s good. Maybe even the best. But she’s still human. She eats, sleeps, shits, and puts her pants on one leg at a time like any of the rest of us. Catch her when she’s sleeping, without her computation orb, and she’s just as vulnerable as any other mage. You’ve got a week in country to plan and prepare, to find some way to hit her when she’s not expecting it, and either kill her or preferably capture her and bring her back. We’re issuing you mana disruptive bindings for this op, so once you’ve got her in chains, that should neutralize the threat. Also, word of warning. She’s extremely mana sensitive. No observation formulas, no ranging formulas, you’re parachuting in instead of flying—I recommend not even using invisibility or illusions until you’re on top of them and she’s sleeping.”
Sam gestured to the other form on the slide—an older man with wild hair, a mustache, and a monocle. “This is Dr. Adelheid Schugel. He’s priority two here. Again, capture is preferred, but if it looks like you can’t then put a bullet in him. Once you’ve secured the targets, choice of exfiltration is up to you. There are American bombers on site that you could try to steal, and we’d prefer it if you did, because they’ve been refitted with some sort of mana based engine—so if you can get one of those home, that’d be great. Otherwise, get far enough away, lose your pursuers, and we can send a plane to pick you up mid-air. Any questions?”
“Yeah, what happens when we get them back?” one of them called out.
The Company man grinned. “You let me worry about that. All you need to do is babysit until we get back to the States.”
<hr>
“You are gonna be so smart,” Edwina murmured, cranking down on a bolt as she finished up maintenance on her new baby—well, mechanical baby. The Sturmvogel. The actual baby wouldn’t be making its appearance for eight or so months—she wasn’t sure on the exact date. But her abuelita said that talking to them early on was a good habit to get into as an expecting mother.
She was nearly finished adjusting things in the cockpit when the dog outside growled, before starting to bark. There was a faint, almost inaudible pop, and then the dog yelped. For just a moment, Edwina froze, before ducking lower in the cockpit and going still. Outside, she heard whispered voices and the sound of footsteps approaching the partially open hangar door.
Our people wouldn’t be sneaking around killing my fucking dog. Someone’s snuck onto the island!
Slowly, carefully, she reached up and turned the nob on the magical radio installed in the Sturmvogel, before grabbing her headset and pulling it on over one ear. Flipping over to the standard encrypted general security channel for the island, she listened. Hearing nothing, she keyed up three times in quick succession. A moment later, someone answered.
“This is control. Is someone on this channel?”
One click.
There was a pause, then the operator came back. “If this is someone playing with the radio, there will be serious consequences.”
Footsteps crept closer and Edwina clicked twice.
“Okay. Is this an emergency?”
One click.
“Who is this?”
Remembering there was a chart for what she needed, Edwina looked around the cockpit and found it. Then, she began clicking out an answer. E-D-W-I-N-A. H-A-N-G-A-R. H-E-L-P.
She didn’t stick around to hear the answer. The footsteps stopped in the middle of the hangar before turning away. Quietly, the man whispered in English, “It’s empty. Moving to secure the interior exit. Move on Schugel in sixty.”
Addie! My kid isn’t growing up without a father!
Pulling her headset off, Edwina peeked out of the cockpit and found a man-shaped distortion in the air creeping away, a rifle of some sort in his hands judging by the way the odd visual distortion stuck out. He was facing away from her, heading for the stairs that led up to her personal quarters, where she’d left Adelheid sleeping after tuckering him out. She hadn’t been able to sleep after, so had gone down to do some tinkering, and it was a good thing she had!
Carefully, she heaved herself up out of the cockpit and down to the ground with barely a sound. Slipping quietly across the floor, Edwina grabbed one of the big wrenches laying on top of one of her many toolboxes. Creeping up behind him, she was nearly on top of the man when all hell broke loose outside, as an explosion went off, the ground rumbled, and guns started firing. Whatever illusion or invisibility magic he was using dropped and the obvious soldier turned to go back the way he had come, only to come camouflage painted face to face with Edwina.
For just a moment, he hesitated, his rifle not moving to center on her. Edwina didn’t. She aimed for his head and swung for the fences. There was a solid thunk and crack, and he went down like a sack of potatoes. Kicking the rifle away, then pulling his pistol and tucking it into her belt, Edwina backed away. Looking around, she grabbed a set of chains and quickly worked to get him secured. Once he was, she grabbed the rifle and looked it over. Seeing the safety was off and it was already chambered and ready to go, she took up a position that would let her watch her prisoner, the door at the top of the stairs, and the hangar door.
The door to the stairs opened and Adelheid poked his head out, his usually messy graying hair looking even more wild. He looked around before spotting her. “Edwina? What in the world is going on?”
“We’re under attack, Addie,” she nodded towards the man at her feet.
The normally irreverent and absentminded man nodded, a serious look crossing his face as his mustache twitched. “One moment, then.”
He ducked back into the room for a few moments before coming back out dressed in his shorts, the same shirt he’d had on that morning, and a set of sandals. He absently racked the shotgun in his hands as he hurried down the stairs and took up a position to cover the hangar door, putting his body between her and the door she noted with a grimace.
“Get behind me, you idiot! You’re more valuable—”
“Absolutely not, my dear. Now be quiet. It sounds like the fighting is over and we’re either going to be receiving help or very busy in the next few seconds,” he warned as the sounds of gunfire died down outside.
Heavy footsteps thumped towards the hangar door before pausing at the door. “This is Capt. Grantz! Identify yourselves!”
Adelheid let out a sigh and chuckled, while Edwina felt like all of the tension suddenly drained out of her body. Her legs felt wobbly and it was only Adelheid turning and catching her that kept her from falling on her ass as her heart suddenly started hammering a mile a minute. “It’s Dr. Schugel and Edwina, captain. We have a captive here, if you would?”
The handsome young officer poked his head in, rifle leading as he swept the room just to be sure. Turning back outside, he gestured and a group of two other men hurried inside, the captain following. Looking around, he quickly took in the situation before looking to Edwina and nodding to her captive. “Your work?” When she nodded, he grinned. “Good job.”
“What’s going on here, captain?” Adelheid asked, and Grantz winced.
“We’re not one hundred percent sure, doctor. Reports are still coming in. CP radioed in that Edwina was in some kind of trouble and we likely had intruders since she couldn’t talk and was signaling in Morse. What I do know is that a group of six tried to take the hangar, likely aiming for yourself, doctor. Not sure how they knew to look here and not in your quarters, but we suspect they’ve been observing for a while now.”
“They were,” Edwina nodded. “I heard this one talking.”
Grantz nodded. “We killed four and captured one, and you got this one. We lost two men to some kind of new shield penetrating formula before we could bring them down.” Looking down, he glanced at the charm dangling from a bracelet on his wrist. Quieter, he murmured, “They punched through my first shield, but splashed right off the second. <sub>The men that survived were </sub><sub>all</sub><sub> wearing these</sub>.”
Edwina winced, looking at the man in chains, being dragged away by Grantz’s men. “The boss is gonna be pissed.”
“We haven’t heard from her and she’s not answering radio calls. We’ve got a team going to check.”This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
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I was stuck somewhere in that place between waking and sleeping as my mind refused to fully shut down and rest. Instead, it turned over logistics and reports, and our immediate future needs. We were less than twenty-four hours out from the commies making landfall and part of me was wondering if we couldn’t do more to harass them, while another part could barely contain a giggle at the idea of what they were walking into.
In the end, my bloodthirsty men had been even more creative than I had hoped when it came to coming up with ways to frustrate the communists. In fact, they had gotten downright nasty to the point that if it were anyone else other than the Russy, I’d have felt bad about what they were walking into and might, perhaps, have even ordered them to stand down—apologized and told them that there were certain things you’re just not allowed, as a soldier, to do to another soldier.
The concept of a ‘war crime’ did in fact exist at this point, even if certain ones hadn’t been added or standardized yet, and my men had happily invented entirely new ones to add to the list if anyone ever found out. Using the things they had come up with against anyone other than the Russy would have absolutely been a human rights violation!
It was a good thing then that communists weren’t human.
When they consistently refused to respect the basic human rights of others, then they shouldn’t be surprised when we don’t bother pretending they were in any way human. The golden rule was right in that respect. Do unto others as you would have them to unto you takes on a whole new weight when the ones doing were communists starving, spying on, or just outright murdering their own populations—let alone the rape and murder they had perpetuated against the German people before, during, and most certainly after the war now that our people weren’t allowed to fight back.
Of course, my thoughts weren’t all doom and gloom. No, that was mostly what my brain was trying to distract itself with… otherwise, it’d have to focus on the physical sensations of my body. Namely, the soft warmth of Viktoriya pressed into my back, her arms wrapped around my waist, and her face buried in my neck as her breath tickled the hairs there in a way that was both distracting and uncomfortably arousing.
Now that the cat was out of the bag so to speak and Visha had made clear her intentions, I couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t perhaps a mistake to continue sleeping together like this. Not for any worry about propriety or one of us deciding to take advantage, or decide they were tired of waiting. No, for the sake of my precious sleep! I may not technically need it anymore, but I still enjoyed sleep, and if she was going to keep me awake it would—
Visha shifted, tightening her grip around my waist. A moment later, I let out a strangled “Ahn~!” as her mouth opened and settled over my neck and began to suckle!
—drive me to distraction!!! She has to be awake, right?! She’s doing it on purpose to wear down my resolve, right?! I would be completely justified in turning around, pushing her into the bed, and making her squeal instead!
I wasn’t a virgin—at least, not mentally. As a Japanese salaryman, I’d had my fair share of sexual encounters. This shouldn’t affect me at all!
And yet… This situation was a first for me. I’d never actually spent the night with anyone in Japan. Before, it had always been quick affairs of convenience, or the occasional meeting with a colleague after work and a night of forced drinking with superiors for some shared commiseration and stress relief over shitty bosses, ridiculous demands, and excessive hours. Nor had there been this long, drawn out, I hesitated to say dating or courtship because it wasn’t. It was a waiting period—a legal formality at best, and technically not even one that applied here in Brasa!
“Mm Tanya flavored ice cream,” the woman behind me murmured, and then began chewing, gnawing my neck. “Nom, nom, nom~.”
I huffed a sigh and shifted enough to get her mouth off of me as cruel reality set in. This wasn’t Viktoriya trying to be sexy or making advances that I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready for. No, it was just my subordinate and friend sleep eating and I just happened to be the convenient target!
“My hair is going to smell like drool,” I grumbled quietly, making a mental note to get up a bit earlier so I could take a bath before work started. Crisis averted, I closed my eyes and tried once more to sleep…
Only to frown as something tickled at the edge of my senses. A frown pulled at my lips as I tried to figure out what it was. After a few moments, I realized I was sensing some kind of… disturbance in the local mana currents. Something that shouldn’t be there. There was also active radio chatter on the magical radio frequency when usually, it was quiet at this time of night. With an effort of will, I tuned in even as I reached out to identify just what it was I was feeling.
“—moving up on the hangar now, CP,” I recognized Grantz’s voice over the encrypted comms channel for local security. “Not seeing any—wait! Five, no, six—”
It was at that point, I realized what it was I was feeling. A group of six mana signatures, suppressed, moving closer—approaching my bedroom from down the hall. That wouldn’t have been enough to arouse my suspicion by itself, but what had stood out was the familiar feeling of optical camouflage formulas—the cheaper, less mana intensive version of an invisibility formula. They were effectively a minor illusion formula that left a very familiar distortion in the air around the user. Poor for working in the daylight, but almost perfect for night work and in cover, such as brush or a forest setting.
Sitting up, I reached out and shook Viktoriya as I felt them stack up outside my bedroom door. “Wake up! Shield, now!”
To her credit, my bed partner’s reflexes hadn’t dulled at all from our time together on the Rhine front. She was casting before she even came fully awake, a shield springing up around us. There was an explosion from outside and sudden radio chatter. “Engaging! … Shit! Standard shields aren’t working, evasive maneuvers!”
I felt it as, outside, two of my men died in the first seconds of the exchange to some new formula I had never felt before. It felt similar to the one I had developed for penetrating ship hulls and tank armor, but as if it had been modified to be even tighter and thicker, and applied to sniping formulas as opposed to my variant that worked with an explosive formula.
Regardless, it didn’t matter what it was, only that shields were apparently worthless against it. So I moved, putting my body between Viktoriya and the door—the door, which splintered inwards in a small explosion. In the next moment, a group of four men rushed inside while two remained outside, securing the exit. Then came the shouted orders.
“PUT YOUR HANDS UP!”
“DROP THE SHIELD! DROP THE SHIELD NOW OR WE WILL FIRE!”
“SURRENDER OR BE FIRED UPON!”
Looking over the intruders, I frowned. They wore Russy uniforms. They carried Russy weapons. But the commands they were shouting were all in English. American English, no less—the accent, or rather complete lack of one compared to someone from Albion, Canada, or other English speaking countries was distinctive. I’d most often encountered it in my previous life in American businessmen who spent much time overseas, who had to speak clearly and enunciate properly so as to not be misunderstood.
But it also happened, as I had seen in this life, among American troops who were in mixed units made up of people from all over their country; after a while, many of them would simply lose their accent much for the same reason as the businessmen I had encountered—simple need to be understood when giving orders or communicating information. That hadn’t happened with the troops from Albion, or in captured troops from volunteer units I’d run across from other countries. Just the Americans.
So then, the message was received and it seems they’ve chosen violence. Very well. I can work with that.
I raised a hand and the soldiers tensed, falling silent. “Gentlemen. Please. It’s impolite to barge into a lady’s room in the middle of the night.”
Grabbing the blanket, I pulled it around myself, tied it into place, and slowly stood, forcing them to take a step back. “I take it you’re here to invite me to go on a plane ride with you back to America, to speak with your superiors?” I asked, and one of them in the back flinched, confirming what I suspected.
Instead of answering, the one on my left flipped his rifle around, drew it back, and brought it forward in a textbook execution of a buttstroke. It landed dead center of my face and I frowned, even as the soldier stumbled as I held my mana locked relative to the position of the Earth and went nowhere, and he was forced to adjust. Reaching out quickly, I grabbed the gun and jerked it out of his hands, before flipping it around and slamming it into his crotch. He went to his knees with a whimper and by the time the others had reacted, I had the barrel in his mouth—his bleeding mouth, as I shoved four of his front teeth down his throat.
I shook my head slowly. “Now gentlemen, while the commies managed to put together a working rifle that I can actually respect for its surprising reliability and durability, we all know that their ammunition on the other hand is absolute garbage. The odds of it actually firing are significantly lower than that of the ammunition you’re used to being issued… but not zero. So unless you’d like me to paint the room with this hoodlum’s brains, I suggest you calm down and listen.”
Footsteps sounded from the other end of the hallway and one of the two guarding the door called a warning. “They’re here! We’ve got to go!”
“Do not move,” I warned, before raising my voice. “Who is that down the hall?”
“General! It’s Weiss! Are you and the major okay?” Weiss called from down the hall.
I looked to the man I assumed to be the leader. “I suppose that depends, Weiss. Let me ask.” Staring the man in the eyes, I asked, “Do you want to walk out of here alive or do you want to die?”
He glanced down at the man on his knees, silently weeping on the barrel of the rifle, having apparently found God in that moment as he’d clasped his hands and silently begun to pray. Hesitantly, he answered, “What did you have in mind?”
I smiled. “We’re fine for the moment, Weiss! Hold fire for now, but don’t hesitate if they move.”
“Understood, ma’am!”
Nodding, I began the interrogation. “You’re Americans pretending to be Russy troops. You went after Doktor Schugel and myself and you didn’t open fire immediately, so I assume your orders were to attempt capture. Am I correct so far?” I asked, and he hesitantly nodded. “The men who went after Schugel are either dead or captured. Let’s check!”
I keyed up and broadcast in the clear, unencrypted, so they could hear it. “This is Gen. von Degurechaff. Someone give me a sitrep.”
“It’s Grantz, ma’am! A unit of what look like Russy troops tried to get into the hangar and capture Dr. Schugel. We lost two men. We killed four of theirs and captured two.” Chuckling, he added, “Well, Edwina got one with a wrench.”
“Tell her I said ‘good job.’” The enemy leader frowned at the news, but kept silent.
Focusing, I reached out with my senses, feeling their computation orbs—the only piece of American hardware on them. I didn’t blame them for not changing out for Russy orbs—those things were even more garbage than their ammunition. Still, that made them identifiable—orbs made in different places used slightly different variations of Elinium, and if you knew what to look for, it was easy to spot the differences.
Reaching out with my mana, I cast a basic detection formula, but overpowered it—just dumped mana into it. The ping it released made the air shimmer and made every mage nearby flinch. I rode the wave of mana out, and out, and out… until I got more hits. A group of six returns across the river. Grabbing onto my mana, I pulled it back and the wave receded.
“Attention artillery batteries! Prepare for new target coordinates!” I grinned, then fed them in as the enemy commander’s eyes went wide as he realized exactly what, or who I was aiming at. Never mind that our strategically acquired artillery wouldn’t actually reach that far—they didn’t know that, nor did they need to know. They just needed the threat of it. “Stand by on fire mission.”
Cutting off the transmission for now, I asked, “So. Fourteen men left. You’ve only suffered four casualties. I can turn that into ten casualties in an instant. Get on your radio and have them stand down. Order them to throw down their weapons, fly over to Colina, and land on the runway where they will surrender to my troops. Deviate from that command and I will give the order to fire.”
“Fine,” he hissed. A moment later, I felt him key up in the clear as well, and then listened to both his side and their reply as he gave the order. When he was finished, I nodded.
“Thank you. Now, let’s negotiate, shall we?” I pushed the rifle in my hands for emphasis and the man on the other end whimpered. “Unfortunate as it is that it must be at gunpoint to make you listen to reason, needs must and all that. You wanted myself and Herr Doktor Schugel. I will not give you the good doctor, but I am willing to go myself. So, this is the deal. If you would be so kind as to step outside and give us a moment to get dressed, I will order my men not to fire. I will accompany you to the runway, where you can collect your soldiers and your dead. Do you have a pilot among your number?”
“With the ones flying in,” he confirmed, and I nodded.
“Then we can take one of my planes. You get one of the targets you came for, you get to leave here alive and with only the casualties you took in the initial assault, and you can mark this one as a win. In return, you immediately cease all hostilities against my people and agree not to attempt to try anything against them so long as I cooperate with you. That is the only offer on the table that doesn’t involve all of you dying and a retaliatory strike against America. What do you say?”
Looking at his men for a moment, the team leader eventually nodded once. “Fine. Let him up,” he nodded at the one on the floor.
Pulling the rifle back, I pulled the bolt back and racked it repeatedly to eject all of the rounds, as the man on my bedroom floor stood. Once he had regained his footing, I handed him back his empty rifle with a warning. “If you were one of my men, I would order an assembly, have you dragged out and publicly flogged for striking a lady and an unarmed officer who had offered no resistance, then PT your entire unit until they understood that you were their responsibility and allow them to handle you as they see fit for reflecting poorly upon them. Then, and only then, I might consider not sending in the orders to have you reassigned to a pillbox on the front. Get out of my sight.”
The man looked to his superior who nodded, then hurried out of the room. At a signal from the leader, the others slowly backed out as well, their weapons lowered as they stood down. Before he left the room, he asked, “If I ask you to leave your weapons and computation orb, would you?”
“So long as you honor the terms of our deal, yes,” I agreed. At that, he nodded and turned away. I looked to Visha who was sending me a look that clearly said she thought I was crazy.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. Now, help me get dressed.”
“Ma’am! You should just send them on their way. Do you really have time to go play with the Americans when the commies are a day away from landing?!” she demanded as she wrapped herself in the bed sheet and hurried to my dresser, pulling out clothes and putting them on the bed.
“It’ll be fine. I’ll leave everything to Weiss. He knows what I want.”
Viktoriya made an unsatisfied sound as she began pulling on her underwear under the sheet, then dropping it and scrambling to get into a shirt and set of trousers. “That may be the case, but you shouldn’t just turn yourself over to them!”
Chuckling, I sent her a smile. “It’ll be fine. And where do you think you’re going, that you need your uniform?”
“With you, obviously,” she rolled her eyes as she quickly got her boots on, before heading to the closet and grabbing my uniform off the hanger. I made to protest, only for Visha to send me an amused look. “You’re taking one of Edwina’s planes. Do you think she’ll let anyone other than one of her crew pilot them? Or chance letting the Americans decide to keep one? No, she’ll insist on going. Someone other than yourself will have to go to protect her and ensure no one tries any funny business.”
“That is fair,” I murmured, before turning and calling towards the door. “Did you hear that? We’ll be using my pilot. Major Serebryakov will accompany me, armed and with her orb, to ensure that both my pilot and plane are returned unmolested.”
“Understood,” came a call from outside the door.
Visha picked up the sheet and held it up as a screen in front of me and I quickly began to dress. As I did, I began to plan out just how to deal with this new wrinkle. It was as she dropped the sheet and began helping with my uniform shirt that I came to a decision.
A show of force is required. I need to make them understand that there are <u>rules</u> that even they must abide by, and that they don’t hold all the cards. Perhaps a little tit for tat? I do like the sound of getting even…