Klaus pulled no punches in throwing one hell of a party. In a large multipurpose room he had erected a stage where a hired college band played hits from past decades at a reasonably loud volume. Over the stage hung a wide hand-painted banner reading “Wilkommen Zum Klonenfest”. Professional caterers were called in, serving a variety of culinary delights, much to the pleasure of all.

In a partitioned corner, a large screen was playing arcane classic science fiction films. In front of the screen, several of the clones reclined on three overstuffed couches, utterly transfixed. Klaus socialized with the brethren, sharing simple jokes and encouraging banter. Klingel strode back and forth between the punch bowl and the movie, pausing only to wind his watch and chat with the mingling Klaus.

“Splendid party, Herr Doktor!” he beamed his crooked smile.

“So glad to see you finally enjoying yourself, Arnie!” Klaus clapped him on the back and pointed to one of the clones standing abreast. “Three here was just telling me his hopes to study medicine! Can you believe it? All of these delightful children came from the same man, yet each has his interests. Simply amazing! To think we may have created one to follow in our footsteps!” Three smiled bashfully and turned to watch the band as the doctors talked.

“Indeed,” Klingel munched on a tortilla, spewing crumbs as he spoke. “For example, just look at those who prefer to watch the band versus those who, like me, are entranced with the earlier masterpieces of George Lucas.”

“Not that philistine revisionist pap, I hope?”

“Apropos as it may seem, my dear friend, no! I have been asking the JONs questions intermittently about the classics. Each has a favorite character! Chewie’s my favorite, but it’s absolutely marvelous—all this variety. I pray when we proceed to Star Trek, none favor that headstrong rapscallion Kirk.”

“Arnie, your devotion to Captain Picard has never ceased to amaze me.” Klaus chuckled, gazing around the room. “Ach!” The rotund doctor jumped.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, it’s only my mobile.” He dug into his lab coat and withdrew the vibrating phone. “Hello? Ah, wonderful. Bring them in, please. No clearance? Very well, I shall send someone up to receive them. Goodbye.” Klaus ended the call and tucked the phone back into his jacket.

“Who was it?”

“The extra pizzas are here. Would you mind terribly getting them, Arnie?”

“But I’m having so much fun! Why kill a good buzz when it’s raging?”

“I am seventy years old, my friend. Be a good sport and humor me.”

Klingel nodded apologetically. “Of course. Sorry.”

“Thanks.” Klaus patted his shoulder. “The delivery man is waiting in the lobby. Here is the money.” Klaus handed over a wad of bills. “Tell him to keep the change.”

“Will do. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” Klingel disappeared out the door as Klaus rejoined the festivities.

As Klingel closed the door behind him, he turned to stare down the barrels of two very large pistols.

“Hey, Lanky. Where’s Fatty? Where is Klaus?” a voice in the shadows whispered.

“My God! Tanzer? What do you think you’re doing?”

“It’s complicated.” Tanzer lowered his weapons. “Sorry about that, my nerves are all jumpy lately. Can you get Doctor Klaus out here? We need to have a chat in private, the three of us. Something’s gone wrong and the Board would like to have a word.”

Klingel stood petrified.

“Hey? Did you hear me?”

Klingel gulped and nodded his head.

“Well?”

“I-I-I…I will get him. One moment.” He swiftly disappeared behind the door.

Klingel darted frantically between the dancing clones and made his way over to Klaus. “Doctor, we have a problem,” he panicked, gasping. “I don’t know why, but I think Captain Tanzer wants to kill us.”

“Arn, what are you going on about? Tanzer? Kill us?”

“He’s outside the door. He just waved two guns in my face, giving me some scheiße about the Board wanting to see us.”

“What? This is preposterous! I’m going to sort this out.” Klaus started for the exit, but Klingel held him back.

“I am not kidding, Gustav! He’s armed.”

Klaus pulled away and walked on, Klingel dancing wildly in protest around him. He paused, turning the handle. “Of course, he’s armed. He’s Captain of the Police. Arn, you always get too excited about such things. Relax. I’m sure the Board just wants us to give an explanation of our work.” He pushed on the door and stepped out. Reluctantly, Klingel followed, holding the door open, music spilling into the hall.

Outside, Tanzer was leaning against the wall with his arms folded, as if posing for publicity stills. “Gentleman, I hate to interrupt the festivities, but thank you for coming to see me. I promise I won’t be long.”

What’s this all about, Captain? You scared my comrade half to death!”

“Look, I’m sorry about that. Like I told him, I’m a little on edge. Noone and Lawrence escaped. But that’s not why I’m here. Falcon is in the hot seat and would like you both to give an explanation to the Board.”

Klaus turned to Klingel and glared at him with rebuke. Klingel shut the door. “See? Forgive my associate, Captain. He, too, is a little jumpy.”

“It’s no problem, really.” Tanzer straightened up, unfolding his arms. “I know you’ve been busy with the party.”

“I suppose we’ll have to cut it short.”

“No, it’s not an issue. You won’t take more than hour. Probably less. I’ll have two of my best men guard the door. They won’t bother your boys. Is that OK?”

“I hate leaving them alone—“

“Sure, I understand. They’re like your children. But, I promise they’ll be alright while you’re away.” Tanzer lifted his radio to his mouth. “Miller, Hugo. Wake up! I need you to guard the multipurpose room down here near the galley. Do not, repeat do not interfere with the party. Respond ASAP.”

"Roger. I’ll be there in three,” an oafish voice crackled over the comm.

“Roger, over and out,” said another. Hooking the radio back onto his uniform, Tanzer smiled calmly at the two doctors.

“Alright,” said Klaus. “I just have to pay for their pizzas in the lobby on our way up.”

“That will be fine. Please, follow me.”

Tanzer turned and headed toward the lift, Klaus followed in the wings.

Shrugging, Klingel joined them, still shaken from the scare.

As the doors closed and the elevator began its ascent, Tanzer cleared his throat. “I just have one question for you gentlemen.”

“Of course, Captain,” said Klaus benevolently.

Tanzer delicately placed plugs in his ears and, in a blur, unholstered his guns. “Do you want it in the head for a quick and painless death, or in the chest for an open casket?”

“Pardon m—“

Klingel growled, diving for Tanzer’s weapons.

Tanzer raised an arm defensively as they struggled. He fell backward, raised the barrel and fired, nailing the doctor in the stomach. Klingel gasped as he staggered back, sliding down the wall to the floor, terror mixing with pain on his furrowed brow. He dabbed helplessly as the blood spurted out. The words failed to come through the ringing hollowness.

“Why, Tanzer?” Klaus shrunk back, pleading, looking from the pained face of his comrade to the Captain’s sneer. “In God’s name, why!”

Raising the barrels to each man’s head, Tanzer smiled somberly. “It’s strictly business, Doctor.”

No one heard the harsh bark of the shots above or below.