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Resurrection: Rebirth of the United States

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The players are gathering for the showdown. What Heyward has makes it difficult for Adams to defend him. I suspect Adams wants to win just to spite Jefferson.

I seem to remember that Georgia was included in the list of delegates originally and not changed since. It would be highly interesting to see Tarleton in Congress.
 
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I'm not really happy with Heyward. I was going to make another snide comment about Jefferson but Heyward could get a lot farther by not being so Preston-like. And nice to see some news of Heyward get to Preston, so that he can decide to do something in the way of help.
 
Heyward is experiencing some sort of...not multiple personalities, but more like several (or at least two) acting at the same time. His mind has to try to cope with this, which is very difficult, resulting in a very wooden and distant personality.
 
jwolf: Waymouth at least definitely suspects something is up and is pressing for details. As you say, he doesn't need to know there's a fallen angel running South Carolina, he just needs to know something BAD is happening so he can press Moultrie/Black.

Chief Ragusa: Adams legitimately thinks Congress is behaving... like a pack of autocrats and wants to address that. It's true his hidden motive is to embarass Jefferson. Heyward...he doesn't care, other than professional integrity and pride. He strikes me as a man who hated losing.

J. Passepartout: Mm...Heyward's not really acting like Preston. As others say, Tom's acting cold and distant. John was very much an in-your-face person. He'd probably have challenged Spaight to a duel!

LewsTherin: Very close. Definitely worth the prize. Yes, as Bast hinted at Tom's having trouble coming to grips with his new power. The power's source explains a lot as well.

Going back to jwolf's comment - why is Tom having trouble while Black isn't? Well...Black's had six thousand years to refine his technique. Tom's had a few months - and only a week or two since everything really 'turned on' when he healed Foster :)
 
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-= 183 =-​


Pennsylvania
August 1784


Major General Thomas Heyward stalked the streets of Philadelphia. He didn't remove his hat for the ladies, bow to the men nor smile at the children. They didn't exist. Rather, they did exist, but they were...

"Irrelevant," he muttered aloud. Animals. The lot of them. A few stone of flesh and bone, blood and bile, worthy of no more attention than an ant on cobblestone, who at least had the dignity to know its place.

His head buzzed constantly now, and if he concentrated he could almost pick out individual thoughts - impressions and pictures more than words, for that's how their brains worked, but useful nonetheless.

Animals. Unworthy of God's gift. What right did they have to spread their rotten civilization across the protesting Earth when they couldn't even take care of themselves? He knew what they would do with just a little more power. He'd been there. Better to destroy them now, to return creation to a point before their poison infected everything, when God's love still shone on...

"Beg pardon, sir!" cried a child. "Have you the time?"

Heyward regarded him. He could sense something malignant running through him - a disease in its earliest stages. "Probable. You do not."

"Sir?" He looked confused as Tom stalked away. He could have cured the child, of course, but then what? They had a habit of punishing do-gooders, denouncing them on this or that pretext.

Animals.

He walked through the common room of his boarding house, ignoring a polite inquiry into his hearing and mounted the steps to his room. He closed and bolted the door, then stood in the quiet darkness. It helped. Slowly the buzzing died to a sullen murmur and the tension left his body. He slumped and sat on his bed, drinking a warm cup of water left from the morning.

"I'm just hot," he muttered. Heyward threw off his coat and removed his neck cloth, then opened his chest to find a lighter shirt. He pulled out the coat he'd worn before coming to Philadelphia, worn and threadbare from a journey that took it across a continent, and his hand closed over something hard in the pocket. Tom frowned, reached in, and pulled out a bent coin.

"Jess," he whispered. "I'd forgotten about you." Memories flooded back. Her warm smile and soft touch and the promises they'd made in a Bristol park. Years later, Anne Whiting tilting her head and listening as he told her what he could of his past. The night they'd made love, right before his final campaign. John Preston's ridiculous earnestness, arguing for all the wrong reasons. How happy he seemed with Cassie. Happier days. Better days. Before....HIM

He remembered Black too. That God damned flag of his, mocking him across two and a half centuries. His face, or rather Rutledge's twisted into demonic mania as they fought. In that terrible moment before the explosion, he'd seen everything. Black's undying hatred, his certainty that God would thank him just as soon as He no longer had to deal with the...

"Animals."

Tom stood and threw open his shutters, the coin still clenched in his hand. Sunlight blazed in. The buzzing returned a hundred fold as he watched people passing on the street. A young woman looked up as wood slammed on wood, flushed at the intensity of his gaze and turned away. Shyly she looked back.

You can have her, he thought. What's she going to do? Scream? It's always the woman's fault in these matters, you know. She won't risk her reputation. Plus, she's only an...

"No," he hissed, still glaring at her. The woman finally took the hint and hurried away, shoes clacking on the cobblestone road. "No. They're more than that." He clenched his fists on the window frame, the coin digging into his palm. "We are more than that."

Someone knocked on the door.

"WHAT!?"

"It's Phillip Waymouth. Do you have a moment?"

Heyward clenched his eyes shut. "Yes, just a moment." He inhaled several times. What could he want? To talk about the trial of course. What a piece of nonsense. This had nothing to do with Black. They wanted explanations he couldn't give: Yes, Mister President, in fact South Carolina is or was run by a fallen angel. Why certainly you can call him a demon if you wish. Are there many exorcists in the United States Army? No? Perhaps we should train some. He shook his head, straightened. He could see Independence Hall over the roofs of the other houses. No, this trial didn't matter except that if he didn't win he wouldn't be able to deal with Black.

What are they going to do? Kill you? Let them try. You have the power to destroy them all. They are only...

The door again. "General?"

"I don't have to win," he murmured. "I just can't lose." He crossed the room and opened his door.

Waymouth looked up at him, brow furrowed. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"No, I..." Tom shook his head, turned and walked into his room. After a moment Waymouth followed.

Heyward sat on his bed. "I've not prepared anything. I wasn't expecting guests."

"That is alright, General. I'll try not to tarry long. How...You're bleeding!"

Tom looked down and opened his palm, extricating the sharp fold of the coin from his skin. "It's nothing." He grabbed a spare neck cloth and bound the cut.

Waymouth watched him work. "As I was going to say, I've been asking myself how a man who'd always acted responsibly can forget himself so far as to leave an army in mid-campaign."

"I told you why," Heyward retorted, frowning as crimson stained the cloth. He clasped his hands hoping to seal the wound.

"Yes sir, and I don't accept it." Tom looked up sharply, but the old soldier pressed on. "What you described was essentially an economic dispute: A disagreement over whether Mister Rutledge intentionally created a food shortage. There are those in South Carolina who think you tried to murder him. You wound up in Georgia of all places. This isn't political wrangling."

"You'd be surprised."

"General, if you are innocent then why in God's name are you holding out? There is not a man alive who can't sense it. Do you want to be convicted?"

Heyward set his jaw. "No."

"Then who are you protecting?"

"No one."

"Then why..."

"Christ, Congressman! You should have set up as a lawyer! You question like one!"

"I am trying to help you."

"I don't...!" Tom clenched his eyes shut and lowered his head, rubbing his temple with his wrapped hand.

Waymouth sat back. After a moment, in another tone: "Do you require a doctor?"

"No." Heyward didn't lift his head, but his free hand blindly felt around until he found the coin. He clutched it. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Maybe," Waymouth admitted. "Maybe not. I've seen a great deal."

"Not like this."

"Try me."

Heyward laughed softly, still rubbing his temple. "You'd think I'm mad."

Waymouth smirked. "I already think you're mad. What do you have to lose?"
 
That's a titanic struggle going on in poor Heyward's brain: the divine (was it divine? I forget the exact terminology. The part he's gotten from Black) versus his human side. No wonder he's making such a mess of his Congressional hearing, if his human side can't overpower the angelic side and overwhelm those destructive, hateful thoughts towards humanity in general.

When I first read the posts about the hearing, I kept thinking that Heyward was too distant, to preoccupied. I merely thought he had to snap out of it, come to his senses, in order to become rational again. Now I realize he has to become human again, which is a much taller order.

And to top it all off, Black has learned about the goings on in Philadelphia and is planning his countermove. Heyward has to get his act together fast, or the Congressional gambit will fail...
 
I wonder what Waymouth would think if Heyward showed him the coin from the future. I thought Heyward had buried that back in South Carolina when he said goodbye to his memories of Britain and the 20th century and fell in with Anne Whiting?

I am surprised that the angelic part of Heyward is thinking so darkly about humanity. Scarcely any different from Black's opinion, really. :eek:
 
I am wondering if along with some of that power that Tom obtained from Mr. Black he also obtained some of Mr. Black's... animosity toward humanity, or his simple evilness? That would explain a good bit of Tom's issues in the last couple of updates. One wonders if the memories of Jessie and Anne will assist Tom in overcoming the taint obtained from Mr. Black. If not, I have the feeling that Mr. Black will win either on his own... or with Tom's unwitting assistance. :eek:
 
Chief Ragusa: Next twist coming up :)

Stuyvesant: Yes, Tom has a problem.

The 'divine' part doesn't hate humanity so much as find them a nuisance, an obstacle. It's like how we might feel about ants ruining a picnic. Your instinct might be to go on a rampage and stomp on their anthill a few times for good measure.

The problem will be remembering he's an ant too, and ants have value. :)

Funny you should mention Black...

jwolf: The coin's not from the future. It's from 172..3 I think I said - Jessie's birthyear minus 200 years. You're right that he did bury it, but when he "met" Jess following his fight with Black she gave it back to him. He had it when he woke up.

J. Passepartout: A bit of both. The superiority complex is probably endemic to all the 'angels', but the "Let's kill all the bugs" part definitely sounds like Black.

Draco Rexus: Good observations. Hopefully his memories of the past will be enough to keep him on this edge of...uhm...homicidal mania :X
 
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-= 184 =-​


Pennsylvania
August 1784


Charles Pinckney, senior delegate from the honorable state of South Carolina, sat in his carriage poring over notes from the last Congressional meeting. A boy had announced the sloop Ranger, from Charleston, had made her number. Pinckney therefore rode to the dock, hoping he had mail. He missed his family. Just as important, he hoped he had news and/or instructions.

Edward Rutledge's death left a huge vacuum in Carolina politics. He'd met and dealt with William Moultrie, of course, but that was before General Allen returned with his tragic news. Before Allen's unprecedented betrayal, so out of character as to be unbelievable. He'd kept the revolt away from Congress - it fell within a day, they didn't need anyone's help in South Carolina's business - but lacked details.

Something happened to Carolina's leadership. That was clear. Pinckney reviewed what passed for General Heyward's testimony, now five days past. Two generals did not rebel without a very good reason. Neither had a history of mental illness. Heyward did have a long standing rivalry with Rutledge, but not to the point of abandoning an army and trying to kill him. As far as he knew, Allen and Moultrie never met.

On the other hand, Heyward certainly acted strangely at his hearing. He was almost willing to accept some Cherokee super weapon that turned generals against their civilian leadership...

"We're here, sir," called his driver. "Shall I step around and see if they have mail?"

"Do, James, do." Pinckney closed his notes and looked over the port. It was still early morning, the summer heat hadn't set in yet (through some divine whim Philadelphia could be much more humid than Charleston) and the sun felt good on his face.

It would take very little to satisfy him about General Heyward's conduct: A false rumor of trouble at home. A mental lapse. Illness even. Certainly in time they'd get to the bottom...

The driver poked his head in. "Three letters from home, sir. One from the governor."

"Excellent!" Duty required him to open the governor's first. He read it. Frowned. Read again.
---------

South Carolina

Colonel John Preston lay on his back, his infant daughter more or less sprawled across his chest. He pushed Christiana hard with his stomach muscles, forcing her about a half inch in the air before falling against him giggling.

Cassie paused at the door to their bedroom and smiled at the scene. "Aren't you glad you missed that boat?" she asked.

"Absolutely," John agreed, but he frowned. He hadn't missed Ranger. Their captain, some northern jackass named Jones, refused passage. He seemed friendly at first, but once he introduced himself... "I wonder if I wronged him somehow," he muttered.

"What was that?"

"Eh? Nothing." His stomach muscles tired, so he picked up his daughter and held her at arm's length. She giggled louder and he smiled despite himself.

"I'm surprised you're not on duty," Cassie remarked.

His smile faded. "I will be later. Governor Moultrie's drawing up a list of dissidents he wants dealt with. He's starting to remind me of Rutledge."

She narrowed her eyes. "You don't believe men are still plotting against the government, do you?"

"I don't know what I believe." He carefully spun Christiana through 360 degrees. She wasn't so sure about this and whimpered. John hugged her and turned to face his wife. "You look serious."

Cassie shook her head. "Oh, it's just we've had enough trouble to last a lifetime."

"That's for sure." John leaned back and closed his eyes. "I think he may be overreacting, but then I'd never have thought old Allen could act like he did. And Tom... I really wanted to talk to him."

She hesitated. "There are other ships..."

"No," he murmured, stroking his daughter's wispy hair. "No. There's too much to do, especially if Moultrie's right about these people."

"And if he's wrong?"

John opened his eyes. "I don't know."
-----------

Pennsylvania


"Au revoir!"

Tom looked up sharply from his book. He sat in the sanctuary of the oldest church in the city, stained glass windows on the walls, polished oak doors, a life sized statue of the Savior, and on the altar itself...

"Where did you go?"

"Here and there." Bast sniffed. "Temples have really changed, haven't they?"

"This is a church."

"I was never good at languages!" She hopped down and looked around the room. "Not a single cat. These modern religions really annoy me."

"Can I help you?"

"I mean, Shinto believes spirits are everywhere - close! Buddhists hold bovine sacred."

"What are you doing here?"

"Where else can you find a holy cow?"

"Bast!"

She paused and regarded him. "It doesn't strike you as a little strange you're talking to a cat?"

"I've done stranger."

"You're learning!" she approved. "Good. It's so much easier once you stop fighting it."

"Fighting what?" Tom growled.

"Life. Destiny. Fate."

He slapped the Bible shut. He'd hoped to find new ways to get rid of Black, or at least quiet the voices. "Is this my fate?" he demanded, tapping his skull. "To go mad? YOW!" he cried as something shocked him.

"Sorry, reflex action. Go on." The cat sat, tail wrapped around her legs.

"You know what's happening. What I'm turning into. Is that my destiny?"

"I told you. You're not turning into anything. You are and will remain human. Now, if you mean you have to get used to what's inside of you? Yes."

Heyward sighed. "It wants me to do things."

"Have you?"

"No. I...I don't think so."

The cat flicked its tail. "Shall I tell you a secret?"

"Will it help?"

"It might." Bast glanced up at the Savior, communing for a moment, then turned back. "You are stronger than it is. If you haven't given in by now, there's no reason you have to later. Not if you don't want to."

"I wish I shared your confidence."

"The human soul is immortal," she reminded him. "It cannot be diminished or destroyed. Fear, despair, anger, all can drain its strength for a time, but it cannot be taken away. Not by you. Not by us. That is why you'll win." Bast lifted her head sharply then turned. "Remember that!"

"Where are you going?" Tom called as the cat scampered behind a curtain. "Hey!"

The back door of the sanctuary opened. Three soldiers strode in, looked around, paused.

"General Heyward, sir?" asked the sergeant.

He stood and turned. He already knew what they wanted. "Yes?"

"We need you to come with us, sir. By order of the United States Congress, you are under arrest and charged with high treason."
 
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Neat twist - but one foreshadowed. Heywards's going to Georgia was always going to translate into treason. When Georgia goes to Congress though ... The Cherokee super-weapon is a bit other century.

Preston is beginningto see the light or rather the darkness in Moultrie and at some point he is going to go to Philadelphia.

Where is Benedict Arnold and what was he doing in Cherokee Country? Why hasn't Heyward mentioned that he did talk to the Commander-in-Chief?

Bast's confident Heyward will remain human. Believing that will help him. She hasan annoying habit of disappearing just before trouble arrives.
 
I missed quite a lot in a week of vacation. Heyward needs to start having regular sessions of therapy with Bast now or black will continue to take over.

Oh, and Moultrie is starting another purge. *Expletives*.
 
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The congressional trial scenes are riveting, CatKnight. And Tom really does appear to be going slightly mad as he begins to accept (and fight) this thing inside him. I do wonder if Tom will ever confide to Adams what is going on. It seems to me Adams is just the man to assist what with his stubborn nature and analytical skills. I enjoyed reading a few updates together. It helps to place each scene in the grander scheme.
 
Hey Cat, I know I asked you this earlier in the AAR but are you sure you aren't a fan of Robert Jordan? The main character in his Wheel of Time series is going through something that isn't all that different from what Heyward is going through. The effects on their personalities are very similar, too.

Great stuff!
 
The treason card. Long awaited and finally played. Seeing that it's such an easy and predictable action to take (we all knew it would happen sooner or later, since Heyward did technically commit treason), I can only imagine it's merely the opening salvo in Black's next set of moves against Heyward.

Let's see if being accused of treason will make Heyward get his act together and conduct an effective defense, instead of his haughty, withdrawn behavior earlier before Congress.
 
Chief Ragusa: Of course it was foreshadowed. Most of my dirty tricks have a little foreshadowing :)

Regarding 'superweapon' being other century...I disagree. Every century has its equivalent. The crossbow. The longbow vs. French knights. Cannon. Rifled barrels. Breech-loaders. Gatling guns. Etc. At worst you could argue Pinckney wouldn't come up with such a fantastic explanation, but he was only musing to himself.

I meant to address this earlier: Georgia will never go to Congress. It's true that between wars they remained 'on the books,' but the treaty ending the second war specificially ended Georgia's aspirations. That's why Doctor Hall stood up and walked out.

Heyward never talked to General Arnold. I don't remember them ever meeting. Arnold was in Cherokee Country with his own army - his army moved in to back South Carolina up once Congress approved the action.

Fulcrumvale: Hm...I wonder if Bast charges by the hour. :)

coz1: I'm not sure what Tom told Waymouth yet. It's too fantastic to be believed, but as Waymouth says - he thinks he's crazy anyway. If word got back to Adams he would also have a hard time believing it. Now if he were to accept it... hmm.

LewsTherin: As I think I mentioned, I only got through part of book two before deciding I wasn't crazy about Jordan's style. I agree with what little I've heard afterwards the parallels are striking, but no it's coincidence.

I'd say the only author directly influencing me is Patrick O'Brian, especially in nautical matters but also with dialogue and culture. I consider him to be... well, everything I'm not... in historical fiction :)

Stuyvesant: I'm not sure how much Tom will be allowed to 'conduct an effective defense' on his own behalf. The treason card woke up his lawyer. Adams is going to be very active for awhile :)
 
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-= 185 =-​


Independence Hall,
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
August 1784


"Mister President?" Phillip Waymouth, senior delegate from Massachusetts stood. "Mister Adams has asked me to ask you for permission to address Congress before we begin."

Jefferson frowned at his adversary, sitting tense and wary next to Waymouth. "This is highly irregular."

"New Hampshire seconds Massachusetts's request," Andre said. He'd promised to help with Heyward in exchange for their silence.

"Be that as it may..."

"Third," added James Monroe of Virginia. "Yesterday's arrest was also quite irregular. I believe Mister Adams should be allowed to speak."

Jefferson lifted his head and paused. "Alright, the chair recognizes Mister Adams."

"Thank you." Adams stood and bowed slightly. He didn't have time to play with the president today. He walked slowly to the open floor in front of Jefferson's desk, trying to gauge the room's mood. "Before I begin, I must know who I'm addressing. May I ask who ordered this unlawful arrest?"

"Mister Adams..."

"I did!" Charles Pinckney stood up. He looked...ill, pale with an unhealthy flush. Adams realized his comrade had been drinking. "Thomas Heyward is a liar and a traitor. He cannot be allowed out where he can cause further harm!"

Adams glanced at his client, who sat on Waymouth's other side until called. Tom folded his arms and glared, but said nothing as the former soldier whispered in his ear. Good. Keep him out of this.

"I thank South Carolina for his testimony on events he could not possibly have witnessed," Adams replied simply.

"Don't twist my words!" Pinckney cried.

Adams gave him a puzzled look then shook his head. "Gentlemen, as I recall you agreed to inquire into General Heyward's activities. There was no arrest because you wished to wait for General Heyward's word before determining wrong-doing. Before you were concerned citizens hoping to make things right. In one day Mister Pinckney has turned this into a trial, and you into judges."

"Stuff!" said Spaight. "This was a trial in everything but name anyway, Mister Adams."

"Perhaps," he admitted. "Yet it was not called such, and the name's the thing, gentlemen. Do you not see that we are now trapped like a bear? For an inquiry it would be enough to ask a few questions, and decide amongst ourselves what to do. The bar is set much lower." John Jay of New York leaned forward. "Now we are trapped. First, we must determine guilt or innocence, right or wrong. Second, the bar is now much higher. We must be certain. If Mr. Pinckney's charge is true, then there is only one proper answer to treason. You can not simply dismiss him. You cannot slap his hand and tell him to sin no more. You must hang him. You dare not make such a decision lightly."

He paced back and forth, hands behind his back. "General Heyward was dragged out of a church's sanctuary where he offered worship to our Lord..."

Heyward opened his mouth. Waymouth stomped on his foot.

"...and on whose authority? Not Congress assembled. Not even our President," he waved his hand at Jefferson. "No, because of South Carolina's say so."

"That's enough, Mister Adams!" shouted Pinckney.

"Sit down, sir," Jefferson replied, waving his gavel at Pinckney. "Mister Adams has the floor."

The lawyer shot him a startled look then continued. "I will be very interested to see Mister Pinckney's evidence, for my client gave none the other day suggesting treason."

"Deserting your army in the middle of a war is treason!" Spaight shouted.

"Desertion, if true, is very serious, Mister Spaight ... but it is not the same."

"I say it is!"

"I have Mister Samuel Johnson's dictionary, sir. Would you like to examine it?" Silence. "Well then. Remember what you are now called upon to judge, sirs, and the very high bar you must meet to condemn General Heyward." He turned and nodded to the chair. "Thank you."

Jefferson exhaled slowly as delegates muttered amongst themselves. "If we're ready to begin, I'll ask General Heyward to have a seat in the witness chair. Please remember you are still under oath. At this time the chair will recognize South Carolina for questions."

Charles Pinckney rose slowly, still pale and mottled both. He paced up to Heyward and grimaced, leaning on the table next to him. "You don't like me very much, do you?"

Heyward narrowed his eyes, but kept silent.

"Answer the question."

"Mister President," shouted Adams, "what does this have to do with the trial!?"

"Agreed," Jefferson said slowly, frowning.

"Very well." Pinckney straightened. "General Heyward, after abandoning your...."

"Mister President!"

"...abandoning your army, sir, you rode back to Charleston! Yes!?"

"Yes," Heyward agreed.

"You said the other day you were to confront Mister Rutledge?"

"Yes, concerning mistreatment of..."

"Please confine your answers to yes and no, General Heyward."

"Why would he do that?" Adams challenged.

Pinckney whirled like a cornered animal. "Because if he's allowed to weasel his..."

"Weasel!?" Adams shouted. "I will not have you demean my client's charac..."

"What character!? The man is a deserter, a traitor and attempted murder!"

"Order!" shouted Jefferson, leaping to his feet and beating his desk. "Order!"

"Concerning," Heyward snapped, "mistreatment and butchery of the Indians we captured, as well as intentionally creating crises at home."

"Order!"

"Ah, so paranoia will be your excuse? I will not accept that sir! I will not..."

"ORDER!" Jefferson roared. "Bailiff, you will take the next man who speaks without call out of here in CHAINS!"

Adams sat and glowered. The room subsided.

"Mister Pinckney, you may contin..."

"Mister President!"

"Adams?" Jefferson snarled. "Did you not hear me just now?"

"I did, Mister President, but I must ask for a ruling on whether General Heyward may offer a complete defense, or simply be led around by the nose by Mister Pinckney."

The South Carolinan snarled at him. Jefferson beat his gavel. "He may answer completely." He pointed his gavel at Pinckney. "I will decide whether he is attempting to mislead Congress and stop him as necessary."

"Thank you," Adams blinked.

"Now...Mister Pinckney?"

"A moment." The Carolinan frowned, remembering his line of questioning. "You confronted Mister Rutledge in his home. This is a matter of public record."

"Yes."

"Which is where you tried to kill him."

"Mister President!"

"General Heyward will answer the question," Jefferson retorted.

Heyward considered. "Well, that depends..."

"You tried to murder the man in charge of the Patriot's League, knowing Governor Guerard was in no condition to run the state."

"No, that's..."

"And then, thinking you'd left the army in turmoil and murdered the only man capable of leading South Carolina, you ran to Georgia to urge General Burgoyne to attack! Isn't that so?"

"What!? No!"

"What did he promise you, General? Money? Land? A title?"

"Mister President! Please!" Adams pleaded.

"Order!" Jefferson cried as delegates murmured to each other. "Order!"

"Mister President, not only is South Carolna browbeating my client, now he's gone into the realm of fiction!"

"That is the heart of my charge, Mister President! General Heyward's desertion was the least of his crimes. It was but one part of a clever plot to deliver South Carolina into the hands of the enemy! That is treason!"

"Damn right!" agreed Spaight.

"ORDER!"

"And that is why South Carolina demands General Heyward be extradited to Charleston immediately, in accordance with the Articles of Confederation!"
 
"And that is why South Carolina demands General Heyward be extradited to Charleston immediately, in accordance with the Articles of Confederation!"
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Adams Heyward and co. had better have a real nice ace up their sleeve...
 
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