by John Bowers
“I’ll explain it all later,” she said quietly. “Judy was his daughter.”
The wreckage that remained from the blast was still hot, in spite of the water mains, and Nick knew it was too soon to sift through the debris. He didn’t expect to find much in any case, except, possibly, the skeletal remains of two people. His own belongings were history. He was now wearing everything he owned.
Nick checked the faces of people on the street, but he was new in town and didn’t recognize most of them. He approached Roy Blake, who stood dazed, dried blood running down from his forehead.
“Sheriff, can I ask you to take a look at everyone on the street, see if there’s anyone here you don’t recognize?”
Blake stared at him a moment, still numb with shock. He nodded slowly.
“You think whoever did this is still around?”
“Could be. In a town this small it would be a stupid move, but anything is possible.”
Blake wandered away, mixing in with the crowd, speaking to a few people here and there, checking faces. Five minutes later he was back.
“No strangers,” he reported. “They’re all townspeople.”
Nick nodded. “Okay, thanks. It was a long shot.” He put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I need you to contact your friend in New Dallas and see if you can persuade him to send a forensics team down here. I’m not trained for anything like this, and I need to know whatever they can dig up for me.”
Blake nodded dumbly and turned back toward his office.
After twenty minutes, the auto-hydrants shut themselves off. Water ran in rivulets down the street, but quickly began to dry under the baking heat of Sirius B. The wind was getting worse, and in short order people began to disappear, heading back to shelter from the blistering wind.
Nick and Suzanne helped Willard Kline to his feet and led him back to the Vega. As they entered the dining room, Nick saw Kristina seated at a table with Nathan; both teenagers looked thoroughly shaken.”
“Was that a bomb?” Nathan asked. “Did someone set a bomb in the hotel?”
Nick nodded quietly.
“Who did it? And why?”
Nick glanced at Kristina, who watched him with wide, frightened eyes.
“Oh, my goddess!” Kristina gasped. “You mean those men this morning…?”
Nick shook his head grimly.
“Not them. But while they were in here cornering me, they had someone else planting the bomb. My office probably has one too. It never occurred to me they would move so fast.”
“Move so fast? What are you saying?”
“I should have asked Sam if he saw anyone hanging around the hotel this morning. This is my fault.”
“You couldn’t have known!” Nathan said. “Nobody could have known.”
Nick knew he was right, but it was small consolation. He left the kids to comfort each other and walked across to the bar. Suzanne placed a beer in front of him without a word, and they both looked at Willard Kline, who had regained some control but sat staring at the mirror behind the bar.
“Who did it, Marshal?” he asked listlessly. “Do you have any idea?”
“The KK,” Nick said simply.
Kline whirled on him. “What makes you think so? Why would the KK blow up my hotel?”
Nick saw torture in the man’s eyes, and truly felt sorry for him.
“It was a warning to me,” he said. “I had a call from the KK just minutes before the explosion. They want their slaves back, and when I told them to go to hell, the man who called me disconnected. The hotel blew up about five seconds later.”
Both Kline and Suzanne stared at Nick in disbelief.
“Do they have someone in town?” Suzanne asked. “Was someone waiting for orders to blow it up?”
“That was my first thought, too,” Nick said. “It’s possible they left a man here for that purpose, but now I’m more inclined to think they did it remotely, from a satellite. I don’t think they’d risk leaving a man who could be caught and interrogated, and when those two left here this morning I don’t think they had their next step planned. More likely they reported back to Member of Parliament Harry Reed and he gave the order.”
“But who planted the bomb?”
“I’m guessing there were three or four men in town this morning. We didn’t see the others because the two who came in here distracted us.”
“What are you going to do now?” Kline was starting to sound more like his normal self.
“The man who called me said it was my final warning, so I think they’re coming to get their slaves back,” Nick told him. “I’m going to meet them.”
Sirius A was completely down when Nick returned to his office. The street was utterly deserted, the wind at his back, the air obscured by flying grit. As he walked past what remained of the hotel, he stopped for a moment and stared at the blackened ash pile. The hovervan parked in the alley had also been destroyed, though it was still recognizable as what it had been. The frame was blackened and twisted, and it still smoked, but the fire was out. Nick wondered if Judy Norris had felt anything. Had she had time to experience fear or pain? He would never know, unless he came to a similar end, which was a very real possibility. He hadn’t known her well, and her personality was such that she masked her true self, but she’d been full of life, loving what she did. And she had done it well.
Willard Kline’s daughter?
He would have to hear the story behind that when this was over.
And there was Sam, of course. Much older than Judy, not very imaginative. Poor, dull, dumb Sam. He hadn’t deserved this.
Nick resumed walking, his blood pounding with anger. First Ron Gates, and now these two. Gates he could understand—Gates had been a threat to the KK. But Sam and Judy were innocent bystanders, collateral damage. Nick resolved that, if he lived long enough, someone would pay.
He was ambivalent about entering his office. If the hotel had been wired for destruction, it was a no-brainer that the office had been as well. The only question now was, would they know when he was inside? And were they intent on killing him or just trying to warn him away?
He walked around the building, slowly, inspecting the outside. It would probably be in the alley, since anyone planting a bomb wouldn’t want to be seen. He wasn’t trained in explosives, but once while in the Star Marines had been deployed with a company of sappers. He’d picked up a little rudimentary knowledge, though it might not be enough.
He found it down near the ground, where the electrical conduit entered the building. It was no bigger than a silver terro, but was probably packed with enough plasma to stop a hovertank. Nick studied it for a moment without touching it. It was probably encoded with a microchip, like a land mine, so any attempt to disconnect it without the proper electronic code would set it off.
Returning to the front of the building, Nick unlocked his office and went inside. He knew it was a risk, because the thing could be set to explode when the door opened, but he had to chance it. In the storage room he rummaged through the equipment until he found what he was looking for, a small electronic device designed to bypass security systems. He checked the battery and found it adequate; taking it in hand, he returned to the alley. Squatting beside the bomb, dust whistling past him down the alley, he attached his own device to the side of the building just two inches from the bomb. He looked at the setup for a moment, took a deep breath, and pressed the button. A tiny green light blinked for a few seconds, then glowed red. Nick pushed his hat back and sighed in relief. His device now bathed the bomb in its own electronic signal, which would block any other signal that attempted to activate the explosive.
Nick returned to the office, picked up a hands-free radio, and fitted it over his head. He hung three more on his belt. Next he selected two laser rifles and several power packs, then walked outside again. He locked the door behind him and crossed the street to the sheriff’s office.
Blake was seated in his usual chair, but instead of the ubiquitous
cigarette, an open Lightning bottle sat on his desk. He looked up as Nick entered, his expression only slightly less traumatized than it had been a half hour earlier. Nick stepped around the counter and stopped in front of him.
“Sheriff, you can go home now,” he said.
“What?” Blake looked confused.
“They’ll be coming back. They want those women. And I think we know for a fact that they’ll kill anybody who tries to stop them.”
Roy Blake blinked rapidly. “What about you? What’re you gonna do?”
“I’m going to stop them.”
Blake scowled. “All by your lonesome? I don’t think so!”
Nick shrugged. “It’s neither here nor there,” he said. “However it goes down, it’s not your fight. This is a matter between the KK and the Federation, pure and simple. They killed Ron Gates and they’re coming after me. You said yourself you didn’t see the point in getting killed over something that nobody could stop anyway, so I’m giving you my blessing. You can walk away from this right now.”
Blake stood up, slightly unsteady. The Lightning bottle was down an inch, and his breath reeked of sour mash. He rubbed his stubbled chin thoughtfully. Nick could tell he was scared, but could hardly blame him.
“I don’t know, Nick,” Blake said quietly. “When I told you that, I meant it. But I don’t see how I can leave you here to face them all alone. Not after what they did to the hotel.”
“It’s not your fight,” Nick repeated.
“Yes it is. The hotel was inside my jurisdiction. That makes it my fight.” He pursed his lips and reached for one of the rifles under Nick’s arm. He hefted it, checking the power pack. “I got a couple more of these in the back,” he said quietly. “And some slug rifles, too.” He handed the rifle back.
Nick watched him closely. If he had to depend on the man, he needed to know he could depend on him.
“Are you sure?”
Blake met his gaze and nodded grimly.
“I ain’t gonna run out on you,” he said. “That ain’t the way we did things in Texas.”
“You got a plan?” Blake asked Nick a moment later.
Nick shook his head.
“Not really. I have no idea when they’re coming, how many there will be, or what direction they’ll come from. All I can do is wait and see what develops.”
He handed Blake one of the radios.
“Put this on. It’s a secure channel. Trigger it with your chin when you need to call me.”
Blake obeyed. “We could use some more men,” he said. “But I got some grenades in the back.”
“Grenades!”
Blake nodded. “Stun grenades. They won’t kill anyone unless you stick ‘em in their mouth before you set them off, but they’ll disorient a person, and they leave you deaf as dirt.”
Nick felt his hopes rising. “How many do you have?”
“Coupla dozen. It ain’t much, but it’s better’n nothing.”
“Okay. Give me five of them, you take the rest. I’m going down to the other end of town to warn people to keep out of sight. I suggest you set up shop somewhere besides this office, because this place and my office will be their primary targets.”
Blake retrieved the box of grenades from a storage room, and handed Nick a laser vest as well.
“You want this, or the bullet proof? I got both kinds, but each one only works against one kind of weapon.”
“I dunno. What’s the preferred weapon up north?”
“Probably laser, but if I was gonna send a strike force I’d arm them with both kinds, just to be safe.”
Nick nodded. “Give me the laser. Bullets travel slower.”
Five minutes later both men were as armed as they were ever going to be. Nick stood a moment, thinking. If only there was some way to determine which direction the attack would come from!
“Sheriff, why don’t you move your car down to the end of the street and leave it running? Turn on the radar. That will give you a couple of minutes’ warning if anything approaches town. Call me if you pick up anything.”
Blake, all business now, nodded.
“Good idea.”
“I’ll ask the Greens to do the same at the other end, maybe post a couple of cars north and south. Maybe we can get some advance warning.”
Blake nodded. “What about the prisoner?”
Nick was at the door, but looked back.
“Leave him where he is. If they win this fight, they’ll turn him loose.”
Blake smiled. “Good luck, Nick.”
“You, too, Roy.”
Nick opened the door and stepped out into the sandstorm.
Chapter 27
“Hurry up and wait.”
—Professor Milligan, U.F. Marshal Academy
Nick stopped at Dr. Taylor’s and advised her to get the girls into the basement and stay there.
“For how long?” she asked.
“Until you hear from me, or until Jason Kline shows up.”
She stared at the rifle he was carrying.
“Is it going to be that bad?”
“I think so.”
It took him several minutes to visit all the businesses on both sides of Main Street and tell them to either lie low or clear out. As a result, most of them closed up for the day and went home. Nick finally arrived at the Vega, where Nathan was still sitting with Kristina. Both teens eyed the laser rifles in his hands as he came in the door.
“Nathan, I need a favor.”
The boy jumped to his side without hesitation.
“What’s up, Nick?”
“I need you and your dad to set up a couple of cars and turn on the radars. I don’t know which direction the KK will come from, but I need a few minutes advance warning if possible. Place one on the road facing north and another facing east. And tell your dad to shut down the garage for the day. If there’s shooting, I don’t want him getting hurt.”
Nathan nodded, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
“Okay. I’ll get my gun.”
“Whoa!” Nick grabbed his arm. “Just what I told you, okay? I need you as a lookout, not as a gunman.”
“Nick, I can handle it. I proved that yesterday.”
“I appreciate what you did yesterday—you saved my life—but you’re still a minor. I can’t take the responsibility for you getting hurt.”
“I’ll be eighteen next week, Nick! That’s only five days away! What difference does it make?”
“In a court of law, it makes all the difference in the galaxy. Radar, Nathan, just radar.” He handed Nathan another of his radios. “Call me on this if you pick up anything approaching.”
Nathan’s eyes registered disappointment, but he nodded. He gave Kristina a quick kiss and headed out the door. Kristina followed Nick over to the bar.
“Where did your mom go?” Suzanne was nowhere in evidence.
“Upstairs. Mr. Kline is really depressed; I think she made him lie down. Can I get you anything?”
Nick started to shake his head, then spotted the coffee pot.
“Just coffee.”
Kristina quickly poured a cup and set it in front of him.
“Nathan wants to be a U.F. Marshal,” she said. “He said you talked him into it.”
Nick sipped his coffee. “I only suggested it. He wants to travel and see the galaxy. It’s a good career.” He eyed the girl closely. “How do you feel about that?”
“I think it’s fantastic! We could get married and see lots of different planets.”
Nick nodded, but wasn’t really listening. His mind was on the imminent KK threat, and what steps he should be taking to prepare for it.
“You need to let Nathan help you, Nick. He’s old enough, and he killed that man yesterday.”
Nick looked up. “You know about that?”
“Yes.”
“How’s he handling it?”
“He was a little shook up at first, but it was self defense. And he saved that little girl from that awful man
.”
“Yes, he did. He was braver than he had any right to be.”
“Let him help you, Nick. He’ll be eighteen on Monday.”
“Does the Vega have a basement?”
Kristina looked surprised at the change of subject, but nodded.
“Yeah, we keep supplies down there.”
“When this thing starts, I want you, your mom, and anybody else who might be here down in the basement. No exceptions, no excuses, you understand?”
“Do you really think there’s going to be shooting?”
“I really do. If I had any doubts, they vanished when the hotel blew up. These guys play for keeps.”
He laid one of the rifles on the bar.
“Give this to your mother, just in case she needs it. I imagine she knows how to use it?”
“Of course she does. So do I.”
Her eyes wandered to the front window, where the dust was blowing harder than ever. A little smile curled the corners of her lips.
“Gooseberry,” she said.
“What?”
“That was so funny, what you said. Gooseberry smugglers!”
Nick’s radio buzzed. He chinned the switch.
“Nick Walker!”
“Nick, I’ve got radar sigs,” Roy Blake said in his ear. “Coming in from the west at about fifty knots! Half a dozen at least.”
“How far out?”
“Five miles, more or less. They’ll be here in a couple of minutes.”
Nick leaped off the stool, pointed at Kristina. “In the basement, now! Tell your mother and Mr. Kline!”
He raced out the door and began running down the street.
“Where are you, Roy?”
“In the pump house directly across from your office. I have a clear shot down the road.”
“Okay, but hold your fire until we know who it is. We want them to make the first move.”
Nick disconnected and sprinted the four blocks to the edge of town. The wind was howling, the dust so thick he couldn’t see more than a single block. As his boots hammered the wooden sidewalk, a tripod rat scuttered out of his way, bouncing erratically across the street. He’d just reached the sheriff’s office when the radio buzzed again.
