Mice and Men
 

by Hutchlover and MysticWhim

With A Little Help From My Friends

(John Lennon, Paul McCartney)
Lead Vocal: Ringo Starr

[Billy Shears.]

What would you think if I sang out of tune?
Would you stand up and walk out on me?
Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song
And I'll try not to sing out of key
Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends
Mum, I get high with a little help from my friends
Mum, going to try with a little help from my friends

What do I do when my love is away?
(Does it worry you to be alone?)
How do I feel by the end of the day?
(Are you sad because you're on your own?)
No I get by with a little help from my friends
Mum, I get high with a little help from my friends
Mum, going to try with a little help from my friends

(Do you need anybody?)
I need somebody to love
(Could it be anybody?)
I want somebody to love

(Would you believe in a love at first sight?)
Yes I'm certain that it happens all the time
(What do you see when you turn out the light?)
I can't tell you, but I know it's mine
Oh I get by with a little help from my friends
Mum, I get high with a little help from my friends
Oh, I'm going to try with a little help from my friends

(Do you need anybody?)
I just need somebody to love
(Could it be anybody?)
I want somebody to love

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends
Mum, going to try with a little help from my friends
Oh, I get high with a little help from my friends
Yes I get by with a little help from my friends
With a little help from my friends

*           *           *

Hutch sighed deeply, making sure he held the phone receiver far enough from his mouth so that the party on the other end didn't hear the exhale.

That person was his father.  It was his weekly phone call to his son, who was a senior at the University of Southern California.  Without exception, each and every phone call inevitably turned to the fact that Ken was a 23-year-old about to graduate, about to be married, and with no career path.

"Just go, Ken.  What will it hurt?"

"It's a waste of time."  Hutch didn't elaborate by what he meant as 'waste'.

"It'll take an hour at the most.  Just go; see my friend Carl Huberschind in the Community Relations department.  With your degree in psychology, you could find a place in the Personnel Department, Sales or Community Development of any big corporation."

"But, Dad, when I decide what career I want, I want to do it myself."

"Nonsense, Ken.  You don't need to be so self-sacrificing.  That's the way of the business world.  Take advantage of the people you know; get your help where you can.  There's nothing wrong with skipping a few levels or climbing on someone else's shoulders to advance in the world."

Knowing there was no way he was going to win the argument, Hutch relented.  "Fine, I'll go.  But I can't promise anything."

Hutch immediately regretted his verbal acquiescence, as he could practically hear his father's grin of triumph through the phone.  "Don't sell yourself short.  You're intelligent, good-looking and you're my son.  Now, how's that lovely fiancée of yours?"

"Vanessa's fine, Dad."  Automatically checking his wrist, he added.  "In fact, she's due back from her last class any minute."

"There's another good reason to go tomorrow.  Think of how pleased her parents will be at the wedding, knowing their beautiful daughter has made a fine marriage to a stable, well-connected and financially supportive man."

They discussed Vanessa's qualities for a few more minutes.  Sometime during their talk, a pair of elegant, slim arms wrapped around Hutch's waist and a soft kiss was placed at the nape of his neck.

"Mmm...  Your dad?" she whispered lowly, making the tiny hairs on Hutch's neck stand up.

He nodded once, silently, as Van reached up and pulled the receiver over, her right arm still wrapped around the trim waist of her lover.

"Hi, Dad!  What am I doing?  Helping myself to your gorgeous son, and enjoying it, I might add.  School?  Good.  Finals are nearing, so we've been quite busy."

Relinquishing the conversation to his fiancée, Hutch didn't detach himself, but rather turned in her arm and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead as he gathered her close, not paying much attention to what she was saying.

Removing the receiver from her lips, Vanessa looked up at the handsome man in her arms.  "You want to say 'goodbye'?"  A shake of the blond head was the only response as Hutch bent to kiss her lips lightly.  She turned back to the phone to finish her conversation.  "Okay, Ken says 'goodbye' and he promises to go to the job fair tomorrow."  Hanging up, she disentangled herself to take off her jacket.

"So he told you about the job fair?" Hutch asked as he watched his beautiful wife-to-be get settled.

Tossing back glossy black hair, Vanessa replied, "Yes, and I think it's a great idea that you're going."

"But I don't want to be a suit for the rest of my life, Van.  I want to do something!"

"You don't think that working in an office can do that?  For God's sake, Ken—it's Dow!  There're some excellent opportunities to make the world a better place, if you want to.  And they have offices worldwide!"  Vanessa Trompeur-cum-Hutchinson's green eyes glittered with the realization that all her childhood dreams were close to coming true.  Travel, wealth, family connections, a handsome man at my side who's also an excellent lover.  Oh, please, Ken, don't screw this up for me—for us.

Gathering her close, Hutch gave her another gentle kiss on her lips.  "Let's take one thing at a time.  Don't you worry, everything'll work out."

"So, I'm off tomorrow.  Can I come with you to the job fair?"

Smiling at her enthusiasm, Hutch almost gave in.  "Well, it would be a good opportunity for you also.  However—"

Cutting him off, Vanessa got excited at the thought of the impression they'd make together.  "Just think of the reaction when the two of us walk in together.  With me at your side, they'll hand you a job on a platter.  A beautiful, intelligent, classy couple like us will blow them away."

"As I was going to say, you can come, but I can't take you home.  I have plans afterward, remember?"

"No.  You never told me you were going out."

Lightly, Hutch kissed the tip of her nose.  "Sure, I did.  You probably forgot.  Starsky and I are going to a jazz ensemble.  I asked if you wanted to come, but..."

Vanessa frowned; she remembered now.  "Starsky?" she said flatly.  "Rather than celebrate with me, you'd rather go out with him?"  Ken's friendship with the careworn Vietnam vet was the only thing about her fiancé she didn't care for.

"Van, I made these plans with Starsk several weeks ago.  I asked you if it was okay and you said since you didn't want to go, you'd take advantage of the quiet and study up for finals.  I can't back out now."  He smoothed back her luxurious black hair from her downturned face and lowered his voice suggestively.  "Besides, I'll make it up to you later.  Our own private celebration.  Okay?"  He kissed her again, only deeper this time...with more meaning.

"Well, only if I get a preview of the planned festivities," she purred while narrowing her eyes expressively.

Laughing at the playful nature of his fiancée, Hutch lifted Vanessa off her feet and carried her into their small bedroom.

All the way down the hall, while being hungrily kissed, Vanessa couldn't stop thinking about the poisonous friendship that Hutch had with the uncouth, curly-headed bum.  He could ruin all my plans for our future.  He just won't fit in at all.

*           *           *

Dressed in his navy suit, Hutch gathered up his résumé and letters of recommendation, and slipped them into a sleek leather satchel.  One final glimpse in the mirror assured him that he looked very professional and properly attired for an employment interview.  Knowing he wouldn't have time to return to his apartment before going to meet with Starsky, he grabbed the new albums he wanted to play for him and tucked them under his arm.  He popped a breath mint into his mouth and left for the job fair.

As Hutch walked toward the Student Union where the job fair was being hosted, he realized there was a protest of some sort going on.  There were hippies all over the lawn, hundreds of them, blocking the entrance and peppering the stairs.  He sighed.  This was the last thing he wanted to deal with.  Walking on with deliberateness, he hoped that they would pay no attention to him and allow him to pass and get this meeting over with.

To his right were students carrying signs that read "Peace" and "Down With Dow", and other anti-war slogans.  A large garbage can had a fire blazing, and students were ceremoniously throwing in their draft cards.  Those afraid of the repercussions of setting fire to the cards were turning theirs in to a long-haired male student wearing what appeared to be a floor-length dress of some kind.  Hutch noticed with some amusement that the young man resembled an apostle, only with long love beads and a handful of daisies.  He proclaimed that they were turning in the draft cards to the local post office with an official letter of protest against the war.

Approaching the main doors to the Union, Hutch heard groups of singers loudly chanting the lyrics to I Feel Like I'm Fixing To Die Rag by Country Joe McDonald:  "One, two, three, what are we fighting for?  Don't ask me, I don't give a damn, next stop is Vietnam..."

The young minstrels looked to be enjoying themselves thoroughly, and Hutch felt an unexpected urge to walk over and join them.  Ignoring the foolish notion, he proceeded on to the front doors of the Union, only to see from his short distance that they had been chained closed and padlocked, and red paint or something that was supposed to resemble blood had been poured all over the doors.  Just as he was about to turn and walk around the building in search of another door that may not be so well barricaded, he was confronted by an intimidating hippie protester.

The man had thick, dark, bushy hair past his collar, and a full beard and mustache.  He looked rather barbaric, particularly with his loose-fitting clothing that reeked of incense and other questionable smells.  "Hey, there!" the aggressive man cried out, stepping right in Hutch's face.  "Where you going?  There's a protest going on here.  You can't go in there!"

Irritated with the man blocking his way and getting into his personal space, Hutch stood firm.  "I'm just going to the Union," he answered.  "I have nothing to do with your protest."  Stepping around the man, he tried to continue on his way.

The boorish man was not easily ignored.  "If you're going into that job fair, you have everything to do with our protest!" he countered, physically blocking him again.  "Dow Chemical is in there.  They make napalm.  Don't you realize that Dow provides our soldiers with weapons that are used in terrible crimes against humanity?  Our humanity!  We're less human with Dow in our world!"

Exasperated, Hutch tried to brush him off again.  "Look, I don't know anything about napalm..."

"I can tell you about napalm!" another hippie lad declared.  A small crowd had begun to form around Hutch, making him feel decidedly nervous about his own safety.  The second student continued.  "Dow Napalm B is a petroleum jelly which burns at 1000 degrees Fahrenheit and sticks to whatever it splatters on, including human flesh.  On human flesh, the napalm continues to burn downwards into the body, feeding on fat and other tissue."

Another shaggy youth piped in.  "Last year alone, Dow supplied over 4,500 tons of napalm per month to be dropped onto Vietnam."

The barbaric hippie that had first confronted Hutch argued further.  "The company in there, in our Student Union, is the maker of this horrific substance!  They are recruiting us to go in and help them make their weapons of destruction and evil, and send it over to our troops in 'Nam so they can go on annihilating the Vietnamese.  We're talking innocent people here!  Not just men or soldiers are being killed with this shit, but women and babies!  They're dropping it by the planeload!  That's inhuman!  We have to stop it!  And we're not gonna let you go in there to support them!"

Others in the group nodded and vocalized their agreement.

The man before Hutch was getting agitated and angry, hovering over him in a threatening way.  Hutch swallowed hard.  He had no idea Dow was involved with napalm, nor how the substance was used.  Had he been aware, he would have resisted his father's attempts to persuade him to interview with them.  Yet, with this dissonant in his face, he was hardly in a position to discuss this peaceably.  This was a time for fight or flight.

Suddenly, a strange young man appeared from nowhere, slapping a friendly hand on Hutch's back.  "Jazz!  There you are, man!  I've been looking for you!"  He looked up at the intimidating man in Hutch's face and smiled.  "Hey, Animal, this guy's with me.  He's okay, man.  He just came here to meet me.  Don't give him a hard time, okay?"

The boorish man immediately backed off.  "Oh, sorry, Gino.  I didn't know this was a friend of yours."  He held up his hands apologetically, as the rest of the group began to disperse.  "Sorry to hassle you, Jazz.  You should've said you were a friend of Gino's."

Hutch nodded speechlessly at Animal, confused by what had just happened.  He looked to the shorter man who had diffused the situation with nothing more than a smile.  His supporter's eyebrows raised up and down and he threw an arm around Hutch again, guiding him.

"Let's get you out of here," Gino suggested, nodding his head in a direction away from the crowd at the door.  Hutch blindly followed.

They walked around the Union, with Gino in front.  Hutch finally gathered his wits and jogged to catch up to the barefoot stranger.  "Excuse me," he blurted.  "Do I know you?"

"The name's Gino," the man offered, "and, no, we've never met.  It's nice to meet you, Jazz," he added with a grin.

Hutch stopped and looked down at Gino.  He was rather short, with long brown hair past his shoulders.  He had huge, sad eyes, and beneath his long nose was a mustache that couldn't hide his warm smile.  A colorful peace sign had been painted on his cheek, matching the peace sign he wore on a chain about his neck.  His shirt was rather psychedelic, and his jeans had been hand-painted in a Peter Max style around the bell bottoms.  Indian beadwork adorned the headband that kept his long hair from hanging in his eyes.  There was nothing remarkable about the man's appearance, yet there was something very remarkable about Gino that Hutch could sense more than he could understand.

"Thank you for breaking that up back there," Hutch spluttered.  "I was getting a little nervous that I was about to be made an example of."

Gino chuckled.  "Aw, Animal's okay, man.  He's just not himself lately."  Gino's smile faded and he explained, "He found out this semester that his brother is MIA in 'Nam.  A real bummer, man.  He really took it hard.  Sometimes he gets a little overboard with his anti-war activism, but he doesn't mean any harm.  We're all a peaceful bunch.  We protest against violence, we don't make it, man."

Hutch's stomach clenched.  He knew several friends who had gone off to war, one of whom was Starsky.  He considered himself very lucky that most of them were still alive, as far as he knew.  It seemed only a matter of time before he heard bad news about someone he knew.  Fortunately, Starsky had made it home in one piece.  He hoped to God the rest of them did, too.  "That's awful.  I'm sorry to hear that," he told Gino sincerely.

"Yeah, total bummer."  Gino's sad eyes looked away as he said softly, "Good friends gone forever...."  After a moment, he turned back to Hutch, his eyes brightening mischievously.  "Bet he gave ya quite a scare there, huh?  He can be pretty intimidating."

"You could say that," Hutch chuckled.  "I'm lucky you came along.  Thanks, Gino."

"You're welcome, Jazz.  Glad I could help."

Hutch cocked his head at the nickname.  "Jazz?  Why do you call me that?"

Grinning broadly, Gino reached out and took the albums that had been tucked under Hutch's arm.  "Miles Davis and Vic Rankin," he mused.  "I needed some kind of name for you, and spotted these jazz albums."

Hutch had forgotten about the albums he was carrying, and smiled.  "The name is Ken," he supplied.  "Ken Hutchinson."  Then he added, "But you can call me Jazz, if you like.  Or just Hutch.  That's what most people call me."

"You really like this stuff?" Gino asked, indicating the albums.

"Oh, yeah!" Hutch replied enthusiastically.  "Vic Rankin is a great jazz pianist.  And Miles Davis, my God, the man is absolutely incredible."

"I liked Sorcerer," Gino said as he examined the album.  "That drumming by Tony Williams just blew me away, man.  The whole album is amazing, even that picture of Cicely Tyson on the cover.  But I haven't heard Nefertiti yet.  I've been dying to get my hands on it."

"I think Nefertiti is deeper, more exploratory," Hutch said of the album.  "I think it's one of his best.  I'll play it for you sometime, if you'd like."

"Cool, man!  I'd dig that!" Gino was pleased.  "I live in the commune on 23rd.  Come over any time."  He looked back at the Union and pointed to a door a short distance away.  "I'm sorry we kept you from your meeting, man.  I hope you're not late.  You can get in the side door here; nobody'll bother you there."

Hutch looked up at the Union, and his expression changed.  Now quite serious, he said in a far off voice, "You know, I don't think I want to make that meeting after all."  He looked back to Gino, his face brightening.  "I've got some time now.  Do you want to go to your place and check out this album?"

"Far out, man!"  Gino smiled.  "I can groove on that!  Let's hit my pad."

The two men walked off in the direction of Gino's communal house as the protesters continued to sing their song.  Hutch listened soberly as they walked away.

*           *           *

They walked up the steps to the front door of the commune, which turned out to be an old farmhouse, three stories high.  Trudging up the stairs, Gino took Hutch up to a room on the third floor.  As Hutch walked in, his eyes opened wide.  The room was not what he had expected.

"This is the Blue Room," Gino grinned.

Navy blue paint covered the walls in the room, and the ceiling as well.  Someone had painstakingly painted stars all over the ceiling, giving the appearance of a night sky.  In one corner of the ceiling, a bright red fishing net had been tacked up, and several starfish, seahorses and sea shells were scattered throughout.  There were black lights placed strategically around the tops of the walls, and black light posters glowed beneath.  The carpet was a brown color, giving the appearance of earth beneath the sky.  A large American flag with a peace sign in place of the stars hung as a drape over one of the windows.  On the floor, sprawled across a bean bag chair, laid a very tall, very thin black man, with a very large afro.  The room was dark, with the stars and posters glowing, and strains of John Coltrane were heard from the turntable in the corner.

"Gino, my man!" the prone black man called out.  "Hey, brother!  Give me five!"  His smile was so large that his eyes disappeared into slits.

Gino flipped on the ordinary lights and walked over to slap the man's hand.  "Peace, Bo!  What's happening?"

"Got some kickass hash, my man.  Sit down and try some of this."

"Bo, I want you to meet a friend of mine.  This is Jazz.  He's a Miles Davis fan, too."

Bo tried to sit up, but quickly gave up the effort.  Instead he extended one long arm and held his palm out to be slapped by Hutch, who easily obliged.

"Nice to meet you, Bo."

Waving his hand absently toward the wall, Bo told them, "There's chairs over there; make yourselves at home.  Mi casa es su casa."

Pulling two bean bag chairs from the indicated wall, Gino slid one up to Hutch, who awkwardly plopped himself down.  Gino did the same.  Bo packed the bowl on the hookah and passed it to Hutch.

"Uh, no thanks," Hutch smiled, holding up one hand.  "I don't smoke."

"You're not a narc, are you now, Jazz?" Bo asked, one blurry eye opening a little larger than the other.

"No," Hutch replied seriously, as Gino laughed heartily.

"Jazz, you're dressed in a suit.  Kinda invites paranoia, you know what I mean?" he teased his new friend.

Blushing, Hutch looked down at his suit and grinned.  "I guess I am dressed a little formally for the occasion, huh?  I just came from the job fair on campus."

"I met him at the sit-in," Gino explained.  "Animal was hassling him."

"You wouldn't have been going down to see Dow, now, would ya, mon?" Bo asked Hutch with a fake Jamaican accent.  "That's not a good company to be doing business with."

"So I heard," Hutch grinned.

Bo passed the hookah on to Gino.  Out of respect for his guest, Gino declined.  Bo happily continued to smoke the pipe alone.  The album soon ended, and Bo groaned.  "We need some good music."

"Show him what you brought, Jazz," Gino encouraged.

Hutch pulled out the Miles Davis and Vic Rankin albums and passed them on to Bo.  Bo sat bolt upright, his eyes opening fully for the first time since their arrival.  "Nefertiti?!  Pop this baby on the turntable, Jazz!  I've been dying to hear this!"

"First let me make a phone call, will you?  I'm supposed to meet up with a friend of mine, and I want to warn him I'll be a little late."

Gino directed him to the telephone in the hallway.  Hutch phoned Starsky and explained about his aborted interview, the anti-war demonstration and meeting up with Gino.  Starsky had also gotten swayed from his plans as well, and had made a stop at the Bay City Police Academy to inquire about enrollment.  He had just returnedto his aunt and uncle's where he lived, and was anxious to look through the materials he gathered from the academy.  The two men agreed to meet later, giving Hutch more time to spend with his new friends.

When Hutch returned to the room, Gino was asking Bo why he didn't attend the sit in.  "I thought you had some pretty strong feelings about this war," Gino complained.

Bo's smile disappeared, replaced by a solemnity.  "I do, my man, I do.  I don't think it's right to take black men and send them halfway across the world to guarantee liberties in Southeast Asia that we can't find at home."  He shook his head.  "It's ironic.  You've got blacks and whites fighting side by side, killing and dying together for a nation that can't seat them together in the same schools.  Back where I come from, they still have black and white drinking fountains, black and white bathrooms.  I couldn't even live on the same side of town as your families do.  Yet you want me to go to 'Nam and fight for these rights for another country?  No way.  It ain't right."

Silence descended on the three, when Bo's face suddenly lit with a smile.  "Hey, now, you didn't come here to hear my views on the American presence in 'Nam, now did you?  Total downer.  Enough of this shit.  I could go on for hours if I don't stop now."  He waved absently at the turntable, declaring, "Put on that album you brought, Jazzman."

As Hutch did as he was told, Bo patted Gino on the back, explaining, "I had a paper to write for Poli Sci.  I couldn't make it today.  I met Wiggy and Effy down at the library and we worked together on the research.  Diego and Fang were supposed to work on it with us, but they're off to Washington or something."

"Did you get it done?" Gino asked.

"Almost," Bo laughed.  "Almost."

"When's it due, Bo?  You don't want your grades to slide.  If you don't make the grade, you'll be steeping in a rice paddy within a month!"

"Mellow, Gino!  I got it covered!  The paper's not due for another two days.  I was just trying to keep on top of things."

Gino replied softly, "Just don't want to see you shipped out like Mikey."

"I know, Gino.  I know."

Hutch returned to his squishy seat just as the album began to play.  The three listened, completely submerged in the music.

*           *           *

"Ah Jazz, this album makes you question just how linear time really is!" Bo raved.  "Out of sight!"

"I love how the title song had the melody repeated for about seven minutes, and it's repeated a different way each time," Hutch noted.

"Hey, you got time to play that Rankin LP?" Gino asked hopefully.

Hutch glanced at his watch and dragged himself to his feet.  "Afraid not.  I do need to get back and meet with my friend.  Hey, why don't you both come?  We were going to head out to see the jazz ensemble at Charlotte's Web."

"I can't," Bo declined.  "I'm meeting again with Wiggy to work on finishing up our papers."  He gave Gino a very stoned smile.  Gino's pleasure was obvious in his grin.

"I'll meet you," Gino stated.  "I've got some stuff to do around here before I leave, so I'll finish that up and meet you at Charlotte's Web."

*           *           *

Charlotte's Web was a coffee house and bar that resided in what used to be a huge old stone church.  The coffee shop was downstairs, in the main floor of the church, with the kitchen up where the altar used to exist, and the bar was upstairs where the choir had once been housed.  It was a local hotspot for the young people to hang out, and a fantastic place to hear all the happening music.  The acoustics were grand, and the talent was spectacular.

Hutch walked up the stairs to the bar in Charlotte's Web, with Starsky hot on his heels, still rambling on about the police academy he'd visited.  Hutch seemed to be paying little attention to him, but in truth, he listened to his friend with surprised admiration.  Starsky had been rather aimless since returning from Vietnam, and this was the first time he had seemed excited about life in general.  Hutch knew Starsky had always wanted to be a cop, like his father had been, and finally making some moves in that direction was obviously something he not only wanted, but needed.  Deep down, Hutch envied him, knowing what he wanted to do, and how he was going to do it.  And he really believed that Starsky's interest in being a police officer was noble.  He wished he had the guts to do something just as noble.

After listening to him babble on for several minutes longer, Hutch realized his friend had become silent.  Looking for an explanation, he turned to face him, and saw that Starsky had distanced himself from Hutch.  He was still close in proximity, but emotionally he had closed off, built walls up so quickly that it startled Hutch.  Starsky had been very closed off when he returned from the war, but he had gradually grown away from this behavior over time.  Now he saw all the doors slammed shut in his friend's face.

"Starsky, if you feel so strongly about this, you should apply," Hutch encouraged, hoping to draw him back out.

Starsky looked up, surprised that Hutch had responded.  "I thought you weren't listening," he grumbled, grinding out his cigarette.  "I've been talking about this since you picked me up, and you haven't said a word about it."

"I've been listening," Hutch assured him.  "It sounds great, it really does.  I think you should go for it."

"I am going for it," Starsky said with finality.

Hutch noted that his friend's previous enthusiasm had been dashed, and he felt sorry that he had been the cause of this.  Swallowing his own pride, he looked Starsky in the eye and confessed, "I envy you, you know."

Startled, Starsky stared at him.  His wealthy, well educated, got-it-all-together companion envied him?  "What are you talking about, Hutch?  Envy what?"

"You.  You know what you want.  You know how to make it happen.  You've got a goal, a dream, a purpose.  You have drive.  I look at you, and I see you doing what I wish I could do, and I'm jealous as hell, but I'm happy for you, too."

At first, Starsky was speechless.  "You're jealous of me?!"  He started to laugh.  "Come on, Hutch.  That's the craziest thing I've ever heard of."

"Why is that crazy?  Look at you.  You're excited about this.  What the hell do I have to be excited about?  I have no idea what the hell I'm gonna do when I walk out of here in a few months with that precious degree in my hand.  My dad is pushing me to get some high-paying corporate job that I have no interest in, but I can't even argue the point with him because I can't  offer up my own goals or dreams to fight for.  I don't know what I want to do.  I have no purpose in my life, no gold ring to reach out to.  I wanted my career to be something worthwhile, something I could be proud of.  When I went to that interview today, and found out what that company is doing, I was horrified, and disheartened.  I can't work for them!  How would I look myself in the mirror every morning, knowing I was involved in a corporation that enables chemical warfare?"

"Why don't you come with me, Hutch?"  Starsky's previous enthusiasm was returning in full force.  "I know you want to.  Just check the place out and see what you think."

"Oh, sure," Hutch laughed sarcastically, "that'd go over real big with Dad.  And Mom would just love hearing her only son wants to become a cop.  I'd have a war right in my own backyard."

"You sell your parents short, Hutch.  I bet they'd be proud of you."

"...And then there's Van," Hutch added.  "She deserves that white-collar husband with a house in the suburbs..."

"Van loves you, Hutch.  She'll love you whether you're a Rockefeller or walking a beat."

Hutch looked at him.  "Why do you want to become a cop, Starsky?"

Starsky considered the question for a moment.  "I've always wanted to become a cop.  You have respect.  You're looked up to in the community.  You have power, security, opportunity.  The job's always an adventure; you never know what you'll be doing from one day to the next.  It's exciting.  It's dangerous.  It's challenging.  And you get to help people.  You protect the innocent.  You make the community a better place.  That's a job that gives you real pride.  You can change the world.  You can make a difference.  What better job is there?"

Starsky's eyes were glowing with earnestness.  Hutch looked into his eager face and replied honestly, "I want that, Starsk.  I want it so bad I can taste it."

A broad smile lit Starsky's face.  "So whatcha waiting for, Hutchinson?  An engraved invitation?"

Hutch chuckled.  "It's not that easy, Starsk.  You know my dad."

"Well, right now you haven't got a job.  I think even your dad would rather see you employed as a cop instead of being unemployed."

"You may have a point there."

"Look at it this way," Starsky persuaded.  "You can come with me to the academy, and go through the training.   What have you got to lose?  You haven't got anything else going on.  And it's only seven months.  Even if you find out you hate it, you walk away and you've only given up a few measly months of your life.  But if you like it..."

Hutch smiled.

Suddenly Gino appeared at their table.  He had heard part of their conversation and approached the table warily, unsure about intruding.  "Hi, Jazz!"

Starsky and Hutch stood up, and Hutch extended his hand to Gino.  Starsky eyed the newcomer with a critical eye.  This new friend of Hutch's was not what he expected.  He had anticipated some clean-cut academic type, someone like Hutch.  Gino was far from his expectations.  He stood there in his faded-out, frayed and patched jeans and a wild African dashiki, with a colorful headband decorated with hearts and peace signs.  There were several strands of love beads around his neck, and they hung down almost as long as his shirt.  On his nose was perched a pair of rose-colored John Lennon glasses, but Starsky didn't need to see his eyes to know that the fellow was likely stoned.  His hair was past his shoulders, and Starsky would have wondered if the guy was ever mistaken for a girl, had it not been for the mustache.  But leave it to Hutch to befriend a freak.  The guy was always full of surprises.

Hutch introduced the hippie to Starsky, and Gino held up two fingers in a peace sign as he happily announced, "Hey man, Jazz has told me about you.  Pleasure to meet you, Starsky."

"Don't believe everything you hear," Starsky warned.  "Hutch tends to exaggerate."  He winked at Hutch.

"Sorry, I heard part of your conversation when I walked up; you wanna become a cop?" Gino inquired.

"That's right," Starsky answered, somewhat defensively.  He knew there was little love lost between the hippies and the law enforcement community, and didn't feel like having his plans criticized.

"Far out, man," Gino seemed impressed.  "Good luck to you."

Starsky was thrown off by this response.  "You don't hate cops?  I thought all hippies hate cops."

"I don't hate anybody," Gino answered candidly.  "There are bad cops, for sure, man.  I've seen enough of them with the anti-war protests.  But I'm sure there are good cops, too.  I just haven't seen many of them here."

"I've been trying to talk Hutch into going to the police academy with me."

Gino looked to Hutch.  "You wanna be a cop, Jazz?"

Starsky was confused.  "Jazz?"

Hutch grinned and explained about the nickname Gino gave him when he diffused the tension at the sit-in.  He then looked at Gino and answered, "I'm thinking about going to the academy, yeah."

"I thought you were looking for some big corporate position," Gino admitted.  "You even dressed the part.  You're just the type they're looking for.  If Animal hadn't been in front of the Union today, you'd probably be working for Dow right now."

Starsky was disappointed.  The last thing Hutch needed was one more voice telling him to listen to his father.  No pot-smoking, war-protesting hippie was going to encourage anyone to join the police academy.

"I was just telling Starsky," Hutch stated, "that I wanted to do something meaningful.  I don't want to work for Dow, or any other corporation that I don't believe in.  I want to make a difference.  I want to help people.  I know I've got what it takes to climb the corporate ladder, but it isn't me.  That's my dad, but it's not me."

"So you're thinking about the police academy?" Gino asked.

"It's crazy, huh?  I've got all these golden opportunities in front of me.  My dad's connections could get me into a number of big name companies working for top dollar.  But that holds no interest to me.  I listen to Starsky talk about becoming a cop, and I get truly excited about it.  No goal I've worked for has excited me the way this does; not the degree, not the job prospects, nothing."

Gino spoke openly.  "You have to follow your heart, man; do what you know is right.  You don't belong in some suit behind a desk pushing weapons of destruction or chemicals that pollute our earth."

"It's gonna shake up a lot of people if I finally get this degree and just throw it away.  You should have seen the uproar it caused when I changed my course of study from pre-med to psych."  Hutch chuckled at the memory, then grew serious.  "My dad has been paying for my education.   I owe him some consideration in this decision.  I have a responsibility here, not just to myself but to the people who've made sacrifices to give me a promising future."

"Hutch, it's your life," Starsky gently reminded him.  "Your folks just want you to be happy.  Sure they were a little disappointed when you changed majors.  They had visions of 'my son the doctor' dancing in their head.  But when it comes right down to it, your happiness means more to them than any executive position."

"Starsky's right," Gino nodded.  "This is your life.  You have to be who you really are, whether that means being a cop, or a garbage collector, or a doctor or a Wall Street banker.  You can't have a healthy relationship with our fellow human beings or with Mother Earth if you aren't first true to yourself."

Hutch shook his head.  "You guys make this sound so easy."

Gino shook his head.  "It takes a lot to break free from the mind control that society has programmed for each of us since birth."  He patted Hutch on the shoulder.  "You really should try yoga, Jazz.  Meditation and yoga can bring about self awareness and enlightenment.  It'll help you get in touch with who you really are, and where you belong on this planet.  It'll also help you to deal with all the stress your family expectations give you."

"You know, I've been thinking about trying that..." Hutch began.

Starsky listened to the two excitedly jabber on about meditation and inner peace, watching as if it were an entertaining show just for him to experience.  The more he heard from this freaky-looking gypsy, the more he honestly liked the guy.  His ideas were unconventional and foreign to Starsky, but Gino was straightforward and honest, and he was ethical and compassionate.  He had a respect for others, and a concern for the environment that was actually quite refreshing.  There was a spirituality about him, in his philosophy, and a genuine desire to find insight into the world around him, as well as into himself.  Other hippies that Starsky had run across in his past had been superficial and interested only in getting stoned.  Gino was far from superficial, and displayed a love for humanity, and high ideals about changing the world for the better.

Soon the music began, and the trio held off their conversation to enjoy the band.  The music was wonderful, and they were all in great spirits by the time it was finished, as well as a bit inebriated.

"Why don't we come back on Monday?" Starsky suggested.  "There's a new kid performing that I've been hearing great things about.  His name's Steve Goodman, and he's a folk singer."

"I can't make it then," Hutch declined.  "I have an examin BioSciences on Tuesday, and I'll need to study."

"Who are you taking for Bio?" Gino questioned.

"Franklin," Hutch said, less than enthusiastically.

"I had him last semester," Gino complained.  "I had to drop it, man.  He wanted us to test these chemicals on those poor mice.  I couldn't do it."

"He didn't do that this semester.  He got so many complaints, he dropped that requirement for Bio.  But he still has all the lab animals in there.  I hear he still experiments with them in other classes, though."

"That's not right, man," Gino announced sadly.  "How can you do that to those poor helpless creatures?"

"Little Mickeys and Minnies?" Starsky squeaked out, unintentionally mimicking the objects of their discussion.  "Drugging them with chemicals and making them suffer?"

They continued to voice their disgust about the cruel treatment to the lab animals until Gino suggested they sneak into the Keck lab building and set them free.

"We could do it, man!  Just let 'em loose!"

"We can't do that, Gino!" Hutch laughed.  "What if we got caught?"

"So what are they going to do to us?" he asked, mischievous eyes twinkling.  "Arrest us for aiding mice in a jailbreak?  Who would blame us when they hear what they do to those animals?  Come on!  It'll be fun!  Wouldn't you just love to see the look on Franklin's face when he sees the empty cages in the morning?"

Hutch laughed again.  "So what is this?  Operation Rodent Rescue?"

"No—Mousecapade '67"  Starsky's eyes twinkled with a reflection much like the North Star in a clear midnight sky.

Gino laughed with him.  "Far out!  Let's do it!  Now all we need is someone to help us; someone who would know how to break into the lab."

"Ahem."  Both Hutch and Gino looked to Starsky, who tilted his head and unobtrusively pointed a finger to himself.

"No way, Starsk."  Hutch shook his head at his friend, who had been listening to their rants about the mice with silent amusement.  "You can't.  You can't afford to get caught if you want to enter the academy."

"Sorry, Hutch, but my stint in the Army prepared me for this type of mission.  Besides, you have a fiancée and can't afford to get caught, either.  You need my experience in undercover operations to back you up."

Hoping to head off an argument, Gino spoke in a rather poor imitation of Peter Grave's voice, thereby giving his agreement to Starsky's accompanying them.  "Your mission, Starsky, should you choose to accept it..."

"This isn't exactly Mission: Impossible," Starsky giggled.  "More like Mission: Mickey Mouse."

"Now, see?"  Hutch cocked a thumb in Starsky's direction.  "Nothing scares this guy.  He's a born hero."  He saluted his friend in mock seriousness.  "General Starsky?  Private Hutchinson reporting for duty."

"Yes, sir," Gino saluted.  "Me, too, sir."

"You guys are nuts, you know that?" Starsky laughed.  "You really want to do this?"  The two others nodded.  "Okay, then.  Let's go."

*           *           *

After procuring three canvas bags, the slightly inebriated trio waited outside the Keck labs in Starsky's black GTO until 1:00 a.m.  So as not to be conspicuous, they parked about 250 feet from the main walkway, where a few other cars waited for their owners to come back.

Since the moon was high, it was fortunate that all three were in relatively dark clothing—jeans, a black t-shirt for Starsky, a dark blue cotton shirt for Hutch, and Gino with his African dashiki.  Hutch's hair still stood out, but there was nothing they could do about it now.

Besides, the main campus buildings were usually open at all times, so it wasn't uncommon to see people going in and out occasionally.  Individual teaching rooms, however, were almost always locked tight after 10 p.m., unless a professor was working late in one of them.

Checking the grounds for campus security and seeing no one around, Starsky, Hutch and Gino walked nonchalantly into the building which was the centerpiece of the science campus.  Off to the left, just inside the main glass doors, a study room was still brightly lit, and as they passed the open door, the three interlopers could see a few students still burning the midnight oil.

Not wanting to seem too conspicuous in case one of the late night studiers could identify them, they tried to pass the doorway as casual possible.

Once past the study room, Starsky asked Hutch where the lab was.

"Down this hall to the left.  The main door's on the right."  As they turned the corner, he pointed.  "Last door."

The door to the lab was locked, but Gino, being the inventive man he was, pulled a small paperclip from his jeans pocket and handed it to Starsky.  Since the Vietnam vet had the only military experience among the three of them, Starsky became their breaking and entering operative.

Unwinding the metallic sliver, Starsky knelt down and peered into the round doorknob's locking mechanism while Gino and Hutch stood in front of him to block his actions.  With a little jostling and some serious effort, the trigger reversed and the knob unlocked.

The lab itself was dark, with the exception of a few dim, recessed lights over the cages that were to their left and against the opposite wall to the left side.  These were lit round the clock to keep the mice in semi-comfort.  It was a little incongruous to Starsky that Professor Franklin would worry about keeping the mice warm, when he had worse things planned for their demise.

The lab was set up with counters to the left and right of the doorway, counter space and cupboards on the right wall, cages along the left, and counterspace as well as cages along the back wall.  Two long tables centered the room, with plenty of space between for moving about.  There was a small door at the back of the left wall that led to teacher's offices.  This was also locked, as Hutch found out when he checked it first thing.

Gino closed the door behind them, but stood next to it, listening for footsteps or other indicators that someone might be coming down the hall.  They left the main lights off and used the dim lights above the cages to find their way around.

The specimen cages were lined together in rows of eight, four deep, on each wall.  There were at least four to five mice in each cage, and the disturbance of their normally quiet surroundings upsetthem.  Little feet scratched on newspaper as they scrambled and tried to get their footing in the cramped quarters.  Several began hissing and squeaking at the human intruders.

Quickly, before anyone heard the commotion, both Starsky and Hutch moved to the cages along the left wall.  One deadbolt lock secured all eight cages in each row.  It became quick work for Starsky to pick the lock of one, and move to another, while Hutch pulled the long bar from the outside of the cages that was held secure by the deadbolt.  Flinging open each cage, the men then went to work and swept the mice into their canvas bags, being careful not to pick up any and trying to avoid the sharp teeth of the tiny, scared creatures.

Several times, sharp nips scratched both men's hands and they knew they'd have some marks to explain away the next day if they didn't treat the scratches soon and properly.

Once finished with the cages to the left, the two hurried over to the back wall, where another group of the same amount and style cages were set on the left hand side.  As Starsky hurriedly unlocked the deadbolts attached to these cages, Gino came rushing over.

"I think someone's coming.  I'll make a diversion."  Before Starsky and Hutch could stop him, Gino grabbed a plastic bottle off one of the counters and rushed back around the lab tables, hiding in the small space between the doorway and the cages on the left.

Releasing the cage locks, this time Starsky and Hutch didn't take care to keep quiet, but instead held open the bags, swept as many mice into the mouth of the bags and moved to the next cage without shutting the cage doors.

Just as the door opened to reveal a campus police officer, Starsky and Hutch ducked down behind the second lab table.  The security guard began to walk to the right and around the tables.

Worried that his friends would be caught in a matter of moments, Gino began shaking the metal cages that he stood next to.  The noise caused the guard to turn around and proceed to the left corner of the room where Gino was hiding.

Starsky and Hutch didn't see Gino open the confiscated plastic bottle, pull a bandana from his back pocket and douse it with the liquid contents of the bottle; they had scuttled over to the small doorway in the back of the room.

Pulling themselves up and squeezing tight against the side of the cages, Hutch kept one eye out for Gino and the security guard while Starsky fussed with the lock on the door.

Meanwhile the guard stepped in front of the crevice where Gino was hiding and got the surprise of his life when Gino leapt forward and pushed the bandana into the other man's face.

Stumbling backward, arms wide to gain purchase of his flailing body, the guard's left hand fell upon a microscope, which he lifted and threw clumsily toward Gino, who was able to dive to avoid the object, but had to drop his hand from the guard's face.

The disturbance and sight of their friend in a confrontation with the campus cop propelled Hutch into action.  He grabbed Starsky's arm in warning and jumped out, rushing behind the stunned guard.  Grabbing the flailing arms, Hutch pulled them backwards and held them, while Starsky located some heavy cord.

Whistling softly, Hutch got Starsky's attention and tossed him one of the long, heavy bars used to lock the cages together, while still holding the guard prone.  His friend caught the bar in one hand and hurried over to help Hutch restrain the cop.

Placing the bar through the crook of the man's arms, Starsky then tied the rope around the bar and the man's arms.  Hutch let go of the guard's arms while Starsky trussed him up like a turkey, and stepped in between the lab tables, where Gino had scooted to hide when the guard attempted to gain the upper hand by throwing the microscope.  Hutchgrabbed the ether-doused scarf from his friend's hand and tied it around the security guard's mouth.  Leaving him room to breathe through his nose, but otherwise still leaving the possibility of losing consciousness if he breathed through his mouth.

The entire time, the guard saw neither Starsky nor Hutch as they operated entirely behind his back.  And he didn't get a good enough look at Gino to provide a detailed description.  There were too many long- and brown-haired hippie freaks at the school that Gino didn't stand out on physical description alone.

In case help for the guard they had just restrained was on its way, all three men decided not to make their escape out the main hallway, but rather find a way out through the smaller door that led to teacher's lounges and offices.

Running down the hallway, checking each door they passed for an unlocked one, they turned down several more corridors before coming across a maintenance door that led to the outside.  Pushing on the heavy metal door, the three trespassers found themselves on the other side of the building from where Starsky's car was parked.

Trying to be as casual as possible they hurriedly made their way to the car, gently laid the bags into the trunk and headed to the commune to drop off Gino.  The entire operation took 20 minutes.

Concerned that Vanessa mightbe worried about him, Hutch asked Starsky to stop at a pay phone so he could apologize to his fiancée and explain that he was helping some friends who had been detained just for being who they were.  He winked at Starsky, who rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly at the play on words.

At the commune, Bo was waiting up with coffee and cookies.  He was aware of their plans, Gino having called him from the coffee house.  They each grabbed a canvas bag from the trunk, and made their way into the main house.

The two hippies slapped each other's hands and backs in greeting and gathered in for a hug.

"So, bros, is that what I think it is in them bags?"

Lifting one up and peering at it as if he had x-ray vision, Hutch nodded.  "Um, I hate to ask this, but...  What are we supposed to do with these guys now?"

"Calico's probably hungry."  Bo suggested with a smirk, mentioning the tabby that hung around the commune and adoptedall of the residents.

"Hey, we didn't rescue these poor defenseless creatures from a painful chemical death, to let 'em die as a painful snack for some furball," Starsky growled.

"Just kidding, man.  I been thinking since Gino tol' me what you all were up to, that maybe in the morning I could drive 'em out to the country and let 'em loose in a field or something."  Bo shrugged.  "I need to make a trip out there, anyway, for some organic garden supplies."

All four men sat down at the kitchen table, filling their mugs with coffee and condiments:  nothing for Hutch or Bo, cream for Gino, and lots of cream and sugar for Starsky.

After a few moments of silent companionship, Bo broke the ice.  "So, how'd the gig go?"

All three told bits and pieces of the story to Bo, each breaking in at various times on one another to interject their own version.  Bo especially got a kick out of the way they handled the security guard.

After 2:00 in the morning when they finished their cup of coffee, Hutch finally suggested to Starsky that they take their leave.  After all, he had classes to attend the next day and he didn't want to cause suspicion by absenting himself.

Slapping hands and backs, Starsky and Hutch left the two hippies and the mice and walked back to Starsky's car.  Then Starsky would driveHutch back to the coffee house to get his own vehicle.

"You know, Hutch, we worked pretty well together back there."

Hutch turned around and looked at the old frame house they just left.  "Where?  The commune?"

"No, back at the lab."

"When?"  Hutch looked slightly confused over at his friend in the driver's seat.

"When we gagged and bagged the mice and guard, dummy!  When'd you think I meant?"

Hutch shrugged.  "Oh, I didn't really even think about it.  I just knew you couldn't get caught and I didn't want to see Gino in trouble, so I did what I had to do."

"We know each other pretty well.  I was worried about you, too.  I'll bet I won't have a partner that works half as well with me when I join the force, as you did tonight."

"Is that supposed to be a hint, Starsk?"

"Yep."  Starsky flashed his irrepressible grin.  "I'm not gonna let up on you until I set foot through those academy doors with you by my side.  Think about it, Hutch, okay?"

*           *           *

"Ken!  Look at this!"  Vanessa was thrusting a newspaper at him, excitement lighting up her whole being.

Hutch took one look at the beautiful girl in front of him and smiled.  He didn't care what was in that paper, he just wanted to see her glow like that.  "Hmm?"

Vanessa pointed to an article in the Bay City Voice, the student newspaper for the Bay City branch of the USC.  "Right here.  Dow Agrees to Return.  They're coming back!  They're going to reschedule the interviews!"

He sighed, taking the school paper from her hands.  "Van..."

"Isn't this great?  You can call them up and reschedule.  This time the school promises that they won't let protestors hinder the interviews."  She sat down beside him, smiling at him expectantly.

Hutch carelessly tossed the newspaper onto the coffee table.  "Van, I'm not going to call them."

She quickly became annoyed.  "Why not?"

"I told you I don't want to work for them."

Van snuggled up against him, her voice becoming a bit more sultry.  "Oh, come on, Kenny.  You're not going to listen to a bunch of long-haired freaks, are you?"

Normally, Hutch was a sucker for her flirtatious ways, but not this time.  "I consider some of those long-haired freaks my friends," he reminded her.  "And they were right.  I checked into it, Van.  Everything they said about the napalm was true..."

"Forget the napalm!" Van argued, jumping to her feet and glaring at him.  "This is Dow we're talking about!  This is one of the best corporations to work for!  This is a great opportunity, Ken.  This would be so great for our future."

"So you work for them," Hutch snapped.  "I'm not going to apply.  It's the principle of the thing, Van.  I can't work for a corporation that manufactures chemical agents designed to burn the flesh off of living beings.  They kill people, Van.  Can't you see that?"

"They make more than napalm!  They work with disease and insect control to improve agriculture.  They make paints, and products to improve home construction.  They make products for the automotive industry.  They work with medical products, not to mention pharmaceuticals!  Are you just going to ignore all the good things they do?   Do you realize how much they gave last year alone in charitable donations?"  She was on a roll, and gaining steam.

Hutch heard none of it.  His voice was quiet.  "They make napalm, Van.  Napalm."  He looked up to her with sadness in his eyes.  "I can't work there."

Van's heart melted.  She knew she couldn't push him into something that would make him so unhappy.  Her shoulders slumped in defeat.  With one last flicker of hope, she suggested, "Just talk to them, Ken.  Maybe they could put your mind at ease.  Hear them out.  What have you got to lose?"

"Nothing they say could put my mind at ease about this."

"So what are you going to do?" she asked.  At the guilty look that crossed his face, Van became vexed.  She crossed her arms.  "Don't tell me you're seriously thinking about going to that school with Starsky!"

Hutch shrugged his shoulders.  "I don't know.  It's something to think about.  I know I'd be making a difference, no matter how small.  At least I wouldn't be a part of something that destroys life."

"Ken, there's no future in that!"

His manliness impugned, Hutch stood up regally.  "I could have a great future on the police force..."

"If you live long enough," she interrupted,then softened her voice.  "Honey, a job like that scares me to death.  I don't want to live in fear that you won't come home at night."

"I'll come home every night because I have everything to live for.  I'll have a beautiful and loving wife who'll stand by me, even if I want to be a cop."  He looked down at her with a hopeful expression.  "You're getting all worried with no cause; nothing's set.  I still have some time."

"You know I love you," she sighed.  "But I've got to be honest here.  I don't know if I can handle this, Ken."

He smiled at her lovingly.  "We'll handle anything as long as we do it together, baby.  Just stand by me.  I can do anything with you at my side."

"I'm behind you, no matter what you decide," Vanessa smiled.  The smile did not quite reach her eyes, but it was close enough for Hutch.

"I love you," he whispered, just before he kissed her with a passion that electrified her right down to her toes.  She purred in response, but he pulled away with a wicked grin.  "Hold that thought.  I have to get to class.  We'll pick up where we left off when I get back."  He kissed her on the tip of her nose, then scooped up his books and left the apartment.

Van listened until she heard the front door of the building slam closed.  She grabbed the newspaper off the table and whipped it across the room.  Pages floated to the ground gracefully like large autumn leaves.  "Damn you, Starsky!" she screamed to the empty room.

*           *           *

Gino and Bo strolled down the hallway that was quickly filling with protestors.  "It's a good turn out, man," Gino observed.

Bo smiled.  He was so stoned that his eyes were barely slits, and nearly vanished as the grin broadened.  "We be keepin' the constables busy today," he replied in his fake Jamaican accent.  He took a long drag on his cigarette.  He held the smoke long, having laced the tobacco liberally with pot.

"You ever been arrested before, man?"

The smile suddenly faded from Bo's face.  His accent vanished as well.  "Yeah."   There was a faraway look in his eyes, and a grim set to his face.  "A long time ago."  He shook his head suddenly, clearing a bad memory.  "It's not gonna be a big deal.  They'll just drag us to a van and drive us down to the station.  Just a lot of sittin' around waiting."  He looked at Gino, who seemed relieved at his words.  "Can't do the crime if you can't do the time, huh, my man?"

Gino grinned and snagged the smoke out of Bo's hand.  "Yeah, man.  I dig it.  Can't expect to violate the law and not get arrested.  At least we'll draw some real attention to the movement.  It won't just be a campus issue anymore.  We'll get some credibility."

A tall, elegant man was making his way down the corridor.  When Gino saw him, he handed the cigarette back to Bo and approached him.  "Dean Phillips!"

The dean heard Gino's call and stopped.  "You have a bigger turnout than I expected, Gino.  Looks like three hundred students inside the Union alone.  You have a small crowd outside as well."

"Yeah, man.  Not bad.  More are coming, too.  Looks like we won't have any trouble taking over the building."

Dean Phillips harrumphed.  "I was surprised that Dow wanted to come back, after the last protest that was staged.  You do know, don't you, that by obstructing a university function, you are subject to university discipline, even if you do manage to avoid arrest?"

"Ah, Dean Phillips, you know that comments like that are considered illegal prior restraint," a voice said from behind him.

Phillips whirled around to see a handsome young man with dark penetrating eyes and long black hair.  "Diego, when you took us to court, I'm sure it was an exciting victory for you, but it does not protect you from being arrested if you break the law.  I am not trying to restrain you.  I'm simply warning you that the police will be called in.  You will be arrested.  That's a fact."

"That wasn't an exciting victory for me," Diego corrected.  "It was a victory for free speech.  That's what we're doing here, Dean Phillips.  We're exercising our right to free speech.  We're also quite prepared to deal with the consequences of our actions.  None of us are taking this lightly.  You know that.  You were at the committee meetings, or at least you were invited."

"Yes, I was there," the man answered, annoyed.  "You do realize there were policemen there as well, dressed as students.  Your plans are all well known to the university and to the city police department.  We know what you're up to.  The university tried to get a restraining order against all you hooligans, but it was denied."

Diego grinned.  "Yes, we were aware that there was a police presence at the meetings.  But we have nothing to hide.  This is a peaceful demonstration.  You heard us insist that no one was to strike a police officer, not even accidentally."

"Yes, but those are just words, Diego.  I'm sure you and all your hippie friends won't remember that when the police are here ordering you to vacate the premises!  Just what do you hope to prove, anyway?"

"We're trying to make people aware of napalm, and how it's being dumped on innocent civilians.  We want people to band together to stop this chemical from being used."

"Diego, this is war we're talking about!  This isn't just a chemical, it's a weapon!   I suppose next you'll be complaining about the bullets we're using or the bombs we're dropping, that they're too deadly!  For crying out loud!  You're just a kid!  You've never even served your country!  What the hell do you know about war?!"

Diego smiled.  "I know enough about it to know that it isn't a war.  It's a police action.  The United States Congress never made a declaration of war, so technically it isn't a war.  In fact, it could be considered a civil war between the North and South Vietnamese, and therefore none of America's business..."

"That's enough of that!"  The dean turned and tried to walk away, already having to step over students in order to make his way down the corridor to leave the building.  Student were already taking their seats on the ground, effectively blocking the hallway.

A guitar was pulled out, and several started to sing a familiar Dylan tune.

Dean Phillips glared hotly at the singers as he carefully stepped past them.  Gino watched the interaction with a sudden unexplained feeling of unease sweeping over him.  The times had indeed changed.  He wondered just how much more change he'd see, and whether it would be good or bad.

"Let's go upstairs," Diego suggested.  "I want to get a good look at the campus from up there."

He and Bo and Gino made their way slowly to the stairwell.

The top floor of the Union was much like the first, completely flooded with a sea of reclining students.  The mood was pleasant and light, everyone pretty much just waiting until they were arrested and carried out.  A wineskin was handed to Diego, with some Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill in it.  He started to pass it back, but Bo grabbed it eagerly.  He squeezed an impressive stream of the wine into his mouth and gave a satisfied "Ahhhh!" before handing it back with an appreciative smile.

Diego climbed up on the high, wide window ledge.  Taking a seat, he observed the developments down below.  There were a few small groups visible, some picketing in front of the building, some gathered off in the grass, chanting.  A small but growing group of policemen were gathering in the parking lot across the street as well, near the University Store.  All in all, nothing out of the ordinary.  So far, so good.

A young girl in a peasant dress wandered up to the three men at the ledge.  She had a large basket full of daisies on her arm, and she handed a small bundle to Gino.

"Hey, thanks," Gino smiled at her.

She passed a flower to Diego and one to Bo, then wandered off to hand flowers to the other protestors.  Gino watched her as she continued on her way, the smile still lingering on his face.

Bo nudged the shorter man, his Jamaican accent returning in force.  "You have a job to do, mon.  Don't you be t'inkin' 'bout the ladies."

Gino chuckled, then looked down, a little embarrassed.  He was wondering how he could break free from his companions for a while to follow after the flowerchild.  Fiddling with the paper band that bound the daisies into their bundle, he realized there was writing on it.  "Well, whadda ya know about that!  Far out!"

"What's up, Gino?" Diego asked.

Gino's head popped up.  "Oh, nothing."  He unwrapped the paper from the bundle of flowers and slipped it into his pocket.  He was not about to reveal to his friends that the girl had just slipped him her name and phone number.  "Just came up with a decent idea for my term paper in Crandle's class.  How's it looking outside, man?"

Diego looked out the window again, a frown crossing his face.  "Gino, Bo!  Get up here!"

The two men scrambled onto the window sill.  They looked where Diego was pointing.

"Check this out!" he demanded.

Down below, the police had started to put on helmets, and other riot gear.  The three men watched in somber silence.

Bo's eyes opened wide.  "This isn't good."

"What've they got in mind?" Diego wondered out loud.

"Downstairs!" Diego ordered, jumping from the window.  The three scrambled back down the stairwell.

By the time they reached the first floor, they heard the sound of breaking glass at the opposite end of the hallway.  They couldn't see what was going on, for people were jumping to their feet, but they could hear screaming.

Suddenly, the police were inside, well protected with their helmets and gear; well armed with billy clubs.  They were swinging away at the students, like machetes cutting through the rainforest.   The attackers swarmed down the hallway, a flood of blue, the terrified students fleeing before them.  Diego bolted forward, trying to stop the violence, but his shouts went unheard.  He soon melted into the mass of people running and shouting, lost to his friends.  The protestors scattered, if they could, but the cops were fast, and in great number.   One unfortunate young man was curled up in a ball on the ground, and Gino and Bo watched in horror as three cops pounded the man with their clubs.

A cloud of tear gas blinded the two friends.

Gino felt a slam against his shoulders, and he pulled his fringed jacket up over his head.  The thick material offered him some protection from the worst of the blows, but it did not save him.  Soon, the cops realized that their clubbing was not effectual with him, and instead began to aim lower, directing their blows to his legs and back.  One particularly violent crack to his spine caused his legs to buckle underneath him and his hands to flail out.  He collapsed in a heap on the floor.  An officer grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and dragged him away, laughing, "Had enough?"  He shoved Gino to the ground outside with the rest of the group.

Dazed, Gino glanced around, trying to comprehend what had just happened.  There were hundreds of students being corralled out of the building, many of them badly beaten.  Some were bleeding seriously from awful head wounds. 

Suddenly, he realized they weren't being arrested.  The police were simply beating them mercilessly, then throwing them out of the building.   It took only fifteen minutes for them to clear the corridors, but the protestors were not being carted off to jail as they were cleared out.  Some were being carted off in ambulances.  He searched for his friends, but couldn't find either Bo or Diego.  Lost and in shock, he staggered off toward the commune.

He had made it halfway across the campus, barely aware of his surroundings, when a familiar voice called to him.

"Gino!"

Gino looked up to see a frantic Starsky running towards him.  He sank onto a nearby bench, his aching legs too tired and sore to carry him further.

Starsky ran up to his new friend and laid a hand upon his shoulder.  "Gino!  My God!  What happened to you?  Were you in a fight?"

Shaking his head, Gino replied, "Wasn't a fight, man.  Never fought back.  None of us did.  They just kept beating on us..."

"Who, Gino?!  Who did this to you?"

"Cops, man.  Cops."

"Oh, God," Starsky groaned, pulling the smaller man against his chest.  He pulled Gino's long hair away from his face and examined a nasty purple egg on his forehead.  There were other welts and bruises forming, too.  "What did you guys do?  Why did they do this?"

"We didn't do anything, man.  Never got the chance.  They came in swinging."

"Gino, I'm taking you to a hospital."

"No, I'm okay, Starsky.  I need to get back and find Bo and Diego.  They were with me, and I can't find them.  Diego ran right into the middle of it.  Bo was right beside me and he just disappeared."

"What about Hutch, Gino?  Was he with you?"  The concern was thick in Starsky's voice.

Gino shook his head.  "I told Hutch to stay away.  I knew we were going to be arrested.  Hell, we were supposed to be arrested."  Then he looked confusedly into Starsky's eyes.  "Why weren't we arrested?  Why'd they have to beat us?  We weren't armed.  It was a peaceful protest!  We were protesting against war and violence and napalm; we didn't want to use it!  The cops knew we didn't want anybody hurt.  We made sure they knew.  Why did they do this?"

"I don't know, Gino," Starsky said hoarsely.  Only now did he realize that there were battered and bleeding students filtering away from the Union.  He looked at their dazed faces and felt his stomach clench.  He had seen this before, a long way from home; young men staggering back to camp, bleeding and scared and shocked....

Then he saw a bright blonde head a short distance away, running toward the Union instead of away from it.  "Hutch!" he screamed.

Hutch whirled at the sound of Starsky's voice, then changed his course and ran to his buddy.  "Starsky!  What are you doing here?  Gino!  Oh, my God!"  He knelt beside the cement bench they were sitting on.  Gingerly, he reached up and examined Gino's eyes and face, then felt on his head for more bumps or any bleeding.

"The cops came in and beat the hell out of them," Starsky explained quietly as Hutch looked him over.

"My back and legs took the worst of it," Gino told Hutch.

Hutch shook his head sadly.  "I don't think there's anything broken, and I don't think you have a concussion, but I'm no doctor."  He looked to Starsky.  "We should get him to the hospital, just to be safe, or at least get some ice on these goose eggs."

Gino pulled himself up.  "I'm not going anywhere until I find Bo and Diego.  Come on, man, help me find 'em."  He tried to stand, but one leg was obviously pain-filled.

Hutch pointed out the obvious, "Look, you can barely walk as it is.  Let's take you the hospital, get you fixed up, and then go look for Bo and Diego, okay?"

Frustrated and unable to stand on his pained leg, Gino finally agreed.

Hutch grabbed Gino's left arm while Starsky grabbed his right, and the two men supported him as they headed to his home.  As they approached the commune, Animal came running out, and in one graceful move, scooped Gino up and carried him into the house.  Exhausted, Starsky and Hutch dragged themselves up the steps after him, grateful for the assistance.

Animal had laid Gino on the couch in the main room of the house.  A young woman ran up with a towel full of ice and put it on Gino's forehead, trying to ease his pains.

"I heard about the riot at the Union," Animal told them.  "It was on tv.  Diego came back here, and told us Bo had been beaten up pretty badly, and he's at Memorial Hospital.  They were pretty worried about you, Gino."

"I've been worried about them.  How's Bo?"

Animal sighed.  "We don't know anything about Bo yet.  Diego had a few bruises, but nothing too serious."

Gino appealed to his housemate, "Animal, grab me a pair of shorts, will you?  I need to get some ice on my knee, man.  It's swollen."

Animal ran off to get the requested clothing.

Hutch sank into a nearby chair.  "I can't believe this.  I heard about it on the campus radio station.  You could hear the ambulance sirens in the background.  Scared the hell out of me.  I knew all you guys were going to be there."

"I'm glad you weren't there, Hutch."  Gino sounded very tired.  "It sucked, man.  A real bad trip."

Hutch noticed Gino had neglected to use his nickname.  "You called me Hutch," he exclaimed.

Gino nodded.  "Yeah I did, man."  He looked up at Hutch very seriously.  "Jazz was an innocent.  You aren't innocent anymore."

Hutch's mouth dropped open.  He snapped it closed, then looked to Starsky helplessly.  Starsky simply raised his eyebrows, wondering how Hutch would react.

Facing Gino, Hutch nodded once.  "You're right."

Animal returned with the requested shorts, and Gino limped off to change into them.  When he returned, everyone saw how bruised and swollen his knee was, and talked him into being checked out at the hospital.  Anxious for word on his missing friend, Gino acquiesced.  Animal drove them all in his VW microbus.

At the hospital, after seeing Gino checked out by a doctor, the men finally found Bo.  He was resting peacefully, with the help of sedatives.  Beaten badly, his face was barely recognizable, though a kind nurse reassured them that it was mostly due to swelling, and that his injuries were not as bad as they appeared.  He was being kept overnight, due to the concussion he'd received.

The friends only stayed briefly, not wanting to tax the man further.  As they neared the hospital's entrance, Gino sank into a chair, burying his face in his hands.

Hutch wrapped his arms around Gino's shaking shoulders, holding him tightly, his own eyes misting over.  Starsky stood close by, like a protective body guard.

*           *           *

Storming from the hospital, Hutch was pissed.  His anger propelled his legs to move in a swift manner with a stiff gait.  Starsky had problems keeping up with the long strides as he hurried after his angry friend.

"Hey, Hutch come on, hold up."

Turning around like a whip uncoiling to reach its target, Hutch pointed at the people milling around the lobby of the hospital, which had turned into a smaller protest, now against the police and campus authorities, rather than the originally intended chemical company.  "Look at them, Starsky!  All these people who depend on the police to protect them because they're citizens of this country and this city.  Not expecting to get beat on for their beliefs."

Starsky looked around at the rag tag bunch of young men and women of all races, wearing all colors of clothing, in differing styles of leisure; some with long hair, some with long beards, some with both; many dirty and scratched, quite a few with smears of blood on their clothes or arms and faces.

Rubbing his hand up and down the taut arm, Starsky tried to calm his friend.  "Hey, Hutch, calm down.  Your blood pressure's gonna shoot through the roof and then me or Vanessa'll have to drag your heavy ass back down here."  He found that using humor often calmed his friend.  "The media's here—the people'll know what happened here today.  They won't get away with it.  Thank God no one got killed or really, really seriously hurt."

Lifting his extended arm to run the hand through his hair, Hutch sighed and agreed, releasing his anger.  "But some of those people are my friends.  They didn't do anything."

"I know, Hutch, I know.  Gino's my friend, too.  And though I don't really know Bo, I know you.  And you wouldn't have befriended him if he wasn't a good person."

Tugging on his jacket, Starsky pulled Hutch outside the hospital lobby.  "Let me buy you a drink.  We'll take Gino home and then go down a few.  You don't want to head home to that lovely lady of yours all worked up."

"Yeah, I've got some thinking to do before I face Vanessa."

That remark caused Starsky to pull up short.  "What's that supposed to mean?  You're not thinking of..."

"What?"  Seeing the concerned look on his friend's face, Hutch reassured Starsky he wasn't breaking off his engagement.  "No, nothing like that."

While Vanessa wasn't Starsky's favorite person, he thought she was perfect for Hutch.  Tall, beautiful, classy, intelligent, from a similar background; someone who could hold her own against the occasionally hard-headed blond man.  And it was obviousthey really loved each other from the way they looked at one another.

*                       *           *

At the bar, Starsky ordered a pitcher of draft beer and two mugs, then hustled Hutch and himself to a table.

This particular bar was a watering hole for both college students and young businessmen to hang out and relax after school or work; and bandied all about the place was talk of the police raid on the campus earlier that day.

From the bits Starsky and Hutch overheard, the students and most of the businessmen were appalled at the attacks, though there were a few that railed against the youth who 'were trying to hinder Corporate American freedom' and debating how 'private business had no place as a rally point for those opposed to the war in Vietnam'.

"Major reform needs to happen in the police department if public sentiment is anything like what we're hearing tonight," Hutch remarked casually, over the head of his beer.

"So what did you mean back at the hospital?  About doing some thinking before going home to Vanessa?"

Settling back in the chair in a lounging position, Hutch set down his beer and laid down his plans.  "This whole thing's got me thinking, Starsk."

"You, thinking?"  Starsky snorted.  "Tell me something I don't know."

Ignoring Starsky's tease, Hutch pondered the events of the day and how his feelings and ideals had intersected.  "The only way to make changes in our government is to join that government body and challenge the current viewpoints, policies, procedures and positions, oneself.  Otherwise little will change.  Oh, there might be cops still getting away with events like today, but either we demand change or we become a totalitarian state."

"Riiiiggght...."  Starsky waved his hand in a circular motion, hoping Hutch would get to the point.

"The more I think about how I feel about society and everyone's responsibility in it, the more I lean toward your suggestion."

"You've lost me, Hutch."

"The police academy, dingbat.  The only way to affect change is to be part of the catalyst."

"So you're going to be part of the...."

"The academy.  I'm going to do it."  Hutch slapped his hand on the table as if he'd just made up his mind that moment.  "I'm going to join up with you and make a difference.  Not only on the streets, but in the department itself."

Sitting up straight, Starsky got excited.  "Really?  You sure about this?  I mean you could do real well for yourself in some office somewhere, Hutch."

"Yes.  I'm going.  More importantly, I want to do something and make a difference."

"It's not gonna be easy, buddy, but you help me on the schoolwork and I'll work with you on target practice.  Have to say, it's gonna be weird seeing you handle a gun."

Hutch shook his head over the weird way his friend thought sometimes.  "Why?  Starsk, I come from Minnesota.  I used to hunt all the time.  Own several rifles back home, in fact."       "But that's for sport.  It's different handling a gun as a weapon with the sole purpose to shoot a man."

Acquiescing that point, Hutch continued to lay down his approach for why he wanted to join the police academy, until Starsky held up his hand to halt him.

"Hey, you don't have to prove anything to me.  You need to be telling this to Vanessa."

Dipping his head, Hutch closed his eyes.  "Yeah, I know.  That's not going to be an easy conversation.  She's not going to be too happy; has her heart settled on being some executive's wife and going to parties, traveling, stuff like that.  Getting her own career started."

Starsky laid his hand on Hutch's across the table.  "You're not giving her enough credit, Hutch.  She'll be fine with it once she gets used to the idea; she's gonna be so proud of you."

"I sure hope so."  But Hutch still looked slightly doubtful.

Raising his mug, Starsky proposed a toast.  "To us.  To the police academy.  To the police force; they'll never know what hit 'em."

Concerns wiped away at the infectious grin that beamed from across the table, Hutch lifted his own mug and lips in assent.

*           *           *

As soon as Hutch opened the door to their apartment, Vanessa flung herself into his arms.  "Oh, baby, I was so worried."  She ran her hands up and down his torso to make sure her big blond was in one piece.  "Why are you so late?  What happened?  Are you okay?"

Hutch held Vanessa close, taking in the deep, musky scent of her perfume—no cloying flowery fragrances for her—grateful to have such a concerned, loving woman to come home to.  Surely she'll see that I need to do this.

"Shh, honey.  I'm fine."  He tightened his grip and pulled her close, enveloping her in his long arms.

"I was so worried.  You didn't come home at your usual time and I didn't know if you changed your mind and went to that job fair, or if you decided to join the protest, and got caught up in who knows what."

"I told you I wasn't going to go—to either event.  A couple friends of mine did go to the rally, however, and one was beaten up horribly.  The other needed medical attention, too, so we took him to the hospital.  That's what took me so long."

Vanessa took a deep breath and paused.  "Was it Starsky?"  While she thought the man was way below their social structure, and didn't understand what it was that Ken valued in his friendship, she didn't want Ken to know her feelings.  She was sure that eventually he'd grow out of his need for Starsky's friendship once he got involved with more influential people.  In the meantime, she was aware that she'd have to tread water with that particular friendship.

Hutch grimaced at the thought.  "No.  It was Bo.  A guy from school.  He's going to be fine, though."  He held Vanessa at arms length and smiled.  "Maybe I should introduce you to some of the guys.  Bo's very classy, intelligent and good-looking.  We like the same musicians; that's how we became friends."

"Don't worry about it, hon.  I doubt, while we're building our careers, that we'll have much time to spend with old friends."  Vanessa pulled on his lapel and patted his denim jacket.  "Besides, we'll meet new friends together."

Realizing the time had come, Hutch grasped Vanessa's hands in his own and kissed her lightly on the lips.  "I want to tell you something.  Let's go sit down."  Holding her hand, he led her to the couch.

Knowing he had to tell her about his career decision, Hutch still wanted to postpone the inevitable confrontation as much as possible.  "How about a drink?"  He headed off into the kitchenette.  "I know I could use one.  Do you want something?"

"Sure, bring me a Tab."  Vanessa sat at the end of the couch, with her back against the arm and her left arm extended out along the back.  Her right hand stretched out to reach for the glass that Hutch handed her.

There was no use beating around the bush, so Hutch just came right out and said it.  "I'm joining the academy with Starsky."

"You're doing what?"  Van was confused.  What was Ken trying to tell her?

"The police academy.  When the new session begins in August, I'm going.  Starsky's taking me down to apply tomorrow after classes."

"Police academy?  You mean you want to be...a cop?!"  The stunned brunette's voice was shaky.

Hutch's reply was firm and succinct.  "Yes.  Yes.  I do."

"But...why, Ken?"  Vanessa set her glass down before she dropped it and wiped her palms on her slacks.  She got up from the couch to walk away, to walk through the confusion inside her.  "Goddamn!"  She clenched her fists at her side, fear and burgeoning anger beginning to surface in her elegant form.

Recognizing her angerand realizing he had been waiting for it, Hutch stayed back and silent, letting Van get her feelings vented.  Besides, he wanted to know her opinion and sometimes the most honest words were spoken in anger.

"Come on, Ken.  You can't be serious.  Do you know how dangerous that job is?  And the pay!  It's nothing.  And what about me?  Did you even think how this decision would affect me?"  She turned around to face Hutch and what he saw on her face wasn't just anger, but also sadness.  "Am I supposed to sit home alone all night worrying about you?  I don't want to be the widow of a cop.  Or worse yet, the wife of a disabled one.  I want you.  Here with me, whole.

"And how about our dreams of travel, a nice home?  That'll be out of the question on a cop's salary and with a cop's schedule."

She paused in her tirade, giving Hutch the chance to step in and reassure his fiancée.  "Sweetheart, it won't be that bad.  First of all, I might get some quiet beat like Hollywood Hills or Pasadena.  And maybe I'll be assigned days, in which case I'll be home all evening.  And I won't be on the streets forever.  Starsky and I have plans to move up in the department."

That phrase caught her attention.  "Move up?"  Oh, I see!  Ken has political aspirations, and starting off as a cop would be a good stepping stone to government positions.  The idea that her socially- and ecologically-conscious fiancée was already thinking about their future, and such a versatile and prominent future, brought some satisfaction to Vanessa.  She looked over the handsome man in front of her.  Yes, with Ken's looks and upbringing, he would be destined for government.  "You don't plan on being a plain street cop as a career, then?"

Glad to see Vanessa was calming down and becoming resigned to the idea, Hutch smiled softly.  "No, honey, I'm not going to stay in the line of fire for long.  You know Starsky, he can't stay still for long.  He's too impatient to move up, do more important things.  And I feel the same way.  I can make more of a difference if I keep advancing myself."

"Make a difference?  Is that what all this is about?"

"Yes.  I thought you understood what I was saying."  Hutch led them back over to the couch and sat Vanessa down, still holding her hand.  "The only way changes can be made are from within the department or from higher authorities.  And rather than fight the system from without, wouldn't it be better to make the change from within?"

"Well, if you think so.  But, Ken, wouldn't you rather work in a nicer environment?  If you have to join the police force and move up, wouldn't something like Beverly Hills be more our style?  I mean, with your background and goals, you'd do much better in a place like that."  She reached out and ran her fingers down his shoulders and over his chest.  "Think of all the power and money that can be obtained by getting in the good graces of those in the entertainment industry."

"Honey, who needs the help and protection of the police more?  The rich, who can afford expensive attorneys, rehabs and safety equipment?  Or the poor, who can barely afford a lock and fire alarm, much less the freedom to help themselves out of their situation?"  He smoothed away the long hair from her face, tucking it behind her ears.  "I can do something good.  Make this town a better place.  The raid today helped me to realize what is needed to affect change."

"I understand your feelings, Ken.  But I'm worried.  How are we supposed to live?  And what about your parents?  How do you think this will make them feel?  Your mother will worry all the time, and your father...  I can't think of how disappointed he'll be."

"Hush.  Don't worry about it.  They'll be fine, once they understand that this is what I need to do."  Hutch gently grabbed her head between his hands and pulled her face to his, kissing Vanessa's forehead in a comforting manner.  "It's my life, our life, and they understand that I need to live for us, not them."

"But this decision isn't about us.  You made it by yourself, without me; irrevocably and without discussion."  Vanessa sighed, knowing that she wasn't going to get Ken to change his mind.  "I'll live with it, but I won't like it."  However, she was sure that Ken would change his mind once he got to the academy and realized how hard their life would be; or definitely when he got on the streets and saw the horrors of everyday life.  Hopefully, it wouldn't last long.  She could deal with this change for a while, but she was not going to be the wife of a lowly cop.

*           *           *

Hutch scanned the Bay City Voice, the school newspaper that had been spread out on the table before him at the bar.  The headlines read:  City Police Battle USCBC Protesters / Swing Clubs at Dow Foes.  Hutch sighed.  "How barbaric.  It says here 76 were hospitalized.  I can't believe this happened, let alone to people I know."

Gino looked down at the ace bandage still wrapped tightly around his knee.  "I can't believe it, either, man.  It wasn't that it surprised me so much that people got beaten, because I know that stuff happens.  What surprised me was that it happened here, on our campus, and with the apparent blessings of our university officials.  I feel so naïve."

Bo took a drink of his beer, and placed it on the table.  "Not everything that went down was bad.  We did draw attention to our cause.  Napalm and the Vietnam War aren't just campus issues, anymore.  The whole city wants to know what happened, why it happened, and why we felt so strongly about the issues to protest in the first place.  We're finally being taken seriously."

"Was it worth it?" Starsky asked the two battered men.

Gino and Bo looked at each other, without answering.  Finally, Gino turned to Starsky and said, "Ask me after the war is over."

Hutch picked up a page of the paper and slid it over to Starsky.  "Did you see this?"  His tone had a hint of amusement in it.

"Vandals Break into Keck Lab / Hundreds of Lab Mice Stolen," Starsky read aloud, a smile breaking across his face.  He read the rest of the article in silence, his eyes dancing merrily.  "Says here that they didn't get a good description from that security guard.  They have no leads on who did it.  They're writing it off as some kind of frat stunt, or just vandals out for kicks."

"The guard was found unconscious, but unhurt," Hutch added.  "He said he was relieved that it was some kind of prank instead of something more dangerous, like the bombings we've read about at other schools."

Gino laughed.  "I still can't believe we pulled that off.  I thought for sure we were all gonna be arrested."

"We probably would have, if it hadn't been for your quick thinking with that bottle of ether, Gino."  Starsky chuckled.  "I couldn't believe you shoved that in his face!"

"Couldn't let you guys get caught," Gino shook his head.  "You never would've gotten into the academy with that on your record, Starsky."

Effy, one of Gino's housemates at the commune, joined them at the table.  He tossed his books down and folded his arms on top of them.  "Man, I just came from the university theater.  They had this speaker, a guy by the name of William Burroughs.  He's a writer, and he's got some radical views.  It was wild!  You shoulda heard this guy talk, Gino.  He was great.  He was talking about civil disobedience and the cops.  Boy, he really got everyone's attention then."

"What did he say?" Bo asked.                                                                                   

"He was talking about the flower children handing cops flowers.  Wait a sec, I wrote it down on the program.  I've got it right here...  Here it is."  He held up the program that had been passed out, and read from the page.  "The people in power will not disappear voluntarily.  Giving flowers to the cops just isn't going to work.  This thinking is fostered by the establishment; they like nothing better than love and nonviolence.  The only way I like to see cops given flowers is in a flower pot from a high window."

Starsky and Hutch exchanged meaningful glances.  Starsky winced and mouthed the word, "Yikes."

Hutch started to laugh.  "We don't need flower pots!" he chuckled.  "We've got Gino!"

...the beginning....