by John Bowers
Dorcas stared at her with open mouth, but didn’t seem to have the energy to pursue it.
“Maggie makes a good point,” Suzanne said. “You know what—you ladies have had a really terrible weekend and I know it’s been hard on you. Why don’t you all come over to my house tomorrow for lunch? I’m a really handy cook and I can whip up a special Vegan dish or two and we can all get acquainted.”
Maggie’s eyes lit with excitement, but her mother and grandmother seemed more reserved.
“I don’t think…I mean, we really shouldn’t—” Drusilla couldn’t seem to get the words out.
“You know, I just arrived in town a few days ago,” Suzanne told them, “and I hardly know anybody yet. I could really use some friends. I think we could learn a lot from each other.”
“That sounds like a great idea!” Maggie exclaimed. “Can we go, Mama?”
“No!” Dorcas was emphatic.
“Oh, please, Mama! You said we’re going to be disfellowshipped! We won’t have any friends anymore.”
“Maggie, that’s enough! You already have enough wicked thoughts!”
The girl looked stricken, and Suzanne sighed inwardly in disappointment. Old habits died hard.
But Drusilla straightened her thin shoulders and lifted her chin. Suzanne’s eyes widened in amazement when she spoke.
“Maggie is right, Dorcas. And this lady is right, too. We have…I have no right to judge anyone. After yesterday…” Her voice trailed off and tears filled her eyes again. “Our whole lives have been destroyed. Everything I have always believed is called into question.”
She caught her breath in a sharp gasp, then pressed a hand to her chest to calm herself.
“What is your name, my dear?”
“Suzanne.”
The old lady nodded slowly, her paper-thin lips pressed tightly together.
“Suzanne. That is a lovely name. Not a Bible name, but still lovely.”
Suzanne’s smile returned as she waited breathlessly to hear the rest. Maggie glanced from her grandmother to Suzanne and back again, her eyes gleaming.
“Maybe it’s time we did become acquainted,” Drusilla said slowly, as if exploring the thought as she expressed it. “Your marshal saved our lives yesterday, Maggie’s and mine, so the least we can do is extend the hand of Christian fellowship.”
Dorcas stared at her as if she were mad, but was too submissive to contradict her. Maggie glowed.
Drusilla extended her good hand and Suzanne took it gently.
“Thank you for the invitation, my dear. What time would you like us to stop by?”
Still marveling at her meeting with the Downing women—and with a sense that she had witnessed history being made—Suzanne arrived at the bungalow and unlocked the front door. She couldn’t wait to tell Nick of this new development—it was going to blow his mind.
Literally laughing out loud, she walked through the living room into the kitchen and pulled open the nitro-cooler to see if there were any leftovers she might eat for lunch. She barely had time to inspect the shelves when she heard the floor creak behind her and stood up to turn around…maybe Nick had finished early and was back already. That thought died quickly as she caught a retinal snapshot of a man in a white shirt and suspenders, wearing a black hat. Fear shot through her and her body tensed for a fight, but before she could even glimpse his face, something slammed down over her head, and she caught the powerful smell of burlap. The thick fabric slipped halfway down to her waist and pinned her arms, blocking her view completely; she smelled a strong chemical odor.
She let out a scream and tried to kick, but the chemical was overpowering, and her head swam. Unable to get a deep breath, she felt herself slipping…then everything went black.
Chapter 26
The Trimmer Plain – Alpha Centauri 2
“What was that?”
Aaron Pickard scowled—he was pretty sure he’d heard the marshal take the Lord’s name in vain.
“Don’t move,” Nick told him quietly. Nick dropped to one knee and set the minesweeper down. Staring intently, he pointed through the foliage just ahead of them. “Take a look at that.”
Pickard squinted, following Nick’s finger. It took him a second to recognize what he was looking at, then his eyes widened and he sucked his breath in sharply.
“Great galloping Ghost of God!” he breathed. “Is that what I think it is?”
“It sure is.” Nick lowered his arm and scanned the trees in all directions. “The only question is, what’s it doing there, how long has it been there, who put it there, and why?”
“That’s four questions.”
“And those are only the tip of the asteroid. I got a million more right behind those.”
“What are you going to do?” Pickard had dropped his voice to match Nick’s. Suddenly they were no longer adversaries, but joined at the hip with discovery.
“Did you know anything about this?” Nick asked. “Ever heard anyone speak of it?”
“Never. I had no idea there was anything like this around.”
Nick nodded, accepting his answer. “At least now maybe we know why the minefield is here.”
Nick picked up the minesweeper again and pointed it forward. He switched it from circular scan to forward scan, which extended the beam about fifty feet in front of him. In that narrow corridor he could see four mines on the ground, hidden in knee-high grass. He turned to Pickard.
“Hand me the other machine.”
Pickard had been carrying the second device, which Nick had borrowed from Chief Dwyer. This one was designed to disarm certain types of mines, but Nick had no idea if it would work on these.
“What are you going to do?” Pickard asked for the second time.
“I want to get closer, but I need to clear these mines first.”
“Marshal, that thing may be booby-trapped. Even if you clear the mines you still might get blown up.”
Nick nodded, his face slick with sweat. “I know, but I need to get just a little closer.”
He switched machines with Pickard, giving him the sweeper. The second device was smaller and lighter, with a narrower beam. Nick switched it on and studied the display for a moment. By aiming it where he had seen the hidden mines, he located the first one—the beam was only wide enough for one mine at a time—and zoomed in on it. He pressed the ANALYZE button and waited while the machine hummed and clicked. After a moment a green light came on, indicating that the mine was of a type the machine could handle. Nick’s heart beat a little faster, and he glanced back at Pickard.
“Get down. I don’t know what will happen when this thing tries to disarm it.”
Pickard nodded and backed up, then stretched out flat. Nick dropped as low as he could while keeping the beam on target, then pressed the DISARM button. Again the machine whined and clicked, vibrating in his hands as the battery poured a powerful electronic beam toward the target. It took nearly thirty seconds before the display lighted up again. DISARMED.
Nick’s cheeks puffed as he released his breath, and he swallowed down his adrenaline. One down, three to go.
One by one, he located the next three mines and stepped through the same procedure. Taking no chances that the mines might be of a different type, he analyzed each one before trying to disarm it. Each one came back with a success indicator, and Nick switched the machine off. Now came the tricky part.
Several yards back up the trail he had seen a scattering of stones, some large enough to fill his hand. He backed up and retrieved several of them; then, keeping low, began throwing them at the approximate locations of the mines he had just, hopefully, disarmed. The rocks hit and bounced. At least one hit something metallic, but nothing exploded. Nick closed his eyes with relief and waited a minute for his heart to slow its pace. He wiped sweat and grime off his face, then spoke to Pickard again.
“Wait for me here. If everything is okay, I’ll call you up in a minute.”
The Groaner made no comment. Nick rose to
his knees and began to shuffle slowly forward, using his hands to feel the ground ahead of him. Twenty feet later his fingers touched something round and hard, and he froze. He parted the grass carefully and stared at the deadly thing in front of him. To his surprise, it was warm to the touch, and as he examined it he spotted an electronic eye just off the center of the casing. It was dark, and as he watched he saw a thin trickle of smoke emerge from the casing around it. He leaned closer and sniffed—the distinctive odor of burning circuitry filled his nose.
Good.
He cleared the grass from around it so he could find it again, then moved on to the next one. It took him ten minutes to locate and verify the next three mines. Once he had them uncovered he called Pickard forward, warning him to avoid the mines. Pickard handed him the minesweeper and he turned it on again. Nick swept the entire area, using circular scan, and it came up clean. He heaved a sigh of relief and turned the machine off.
They were standing in a clearing barely forty yards across. The trees were still thick overhead, forming a canopy that filtered the sunlight, but the brush and undergrowth had been cleared away. What Nick had seen from the trail now sat directly in front of him, and now he saw the rest of them; sitting in six neat rows, side by side, were fifty-nine 80mm field guns.
As Nick inspected the first one, he saw serial numbers engraved in the metal, along with dates. Some of the dates were less than two years old.
So this stuff was new. It hadn’t even been manufactured when the war ended eight years ago. The 80mm wasn’t the biggest gun in the universe, but it was plenty big enough; these were auto-fire cannon, with a range of twenty or more miles. Nick stared at them with ice water running through his veins, and Pickard seemed almost as shocked as he was. These fifty-nine guns, without moving an inch, were powerful enough to flatten Trimmer Springs in a matter of minutes.
The Kristoferson Farm – Alpha Centauri 2
Suzanne was starting to come around even before the bag came off her head—the chemical must have a short half-life.
She thought she smelled chickens.
The burlap bag no longer covered her head, but she had been blindfolded—when had they done that?—and she was on her feet, swaying. Someone was holding her upright, pushing her through a doorway. From the closeness and the stale air, it felt like a small room. A very small room. The inside was ten degrees warmer than it had been outside the doorway.
“I need to use a bathroom,” she mumbled, half expecting a fist in return.
“Soon,” a gruff male voice replied. “In a few minutes.”
The men—she was sure there were two of them—moved about the small space arranging things, then one of them pushed her gently against the wall and spoke quietly.
“Count to ten,” he said. “Then you can remove the blindfold.”
Suzanne stood perfectly still, panting with adrenaline. She heard the scuff of boots behind her, then the door closed. She heard a lock snap into place. Without bothering to count, she struggled with the knot on the blindfold and worked it loose. She turned in a complete circle and surveyed her surroundings.
She was in a very small room indeed, not more than six feet on either side. It was made entirely of wood and was clearly intended as a prison cell. A narrow wooden shelf about three feet above the floor was the only furniture, obviously intended as a sleeping rack. A rough blanket, clean and folded, rested on one end.
A jug of drinking water sat in one corner, a sanitary bucket in the other.
“Goddess Sophia!” she whispered, her fear wrestling with her anger. “I don’t fucking believe this!”
In the dim light, she inspected the walls of her prison. The room looked hastily put together, as if someone had built it as an afterthought. Some of the planks had cracks between them, allowing her to peek out with a very narrow angle of vision. She wasn’t surprised to discover that she was inside a large barn; she could see stables in one direction and milking equipment in another. The smell of horses and cow manure seeped inside. Trembling with a growing anger, she stood a moment trying to decide what to do—or if there was anything she could do—and then she heard voices.
Nearby, not ten feet away.
She tried peeking through the cracks again, but couldn’t see anyone. She couldn’t even tell for certain which direction the voices came from. But she could hear them clearly.
“Why did you choose my farm?” the first voice asked. The speaker sounded subservient, unsure of himself, but decidedly unhappy.
“No one will ever look here,” the second voice replied. “Plus, it wasn’t that far away.” Suzanne recognized that voice as the one who had told her to count to ten.
“I don’t like this, Dathan. This is real trouble for me, and I don’t need it.”
“It’s God’s work,” the second man said rather sharply. “In any case, it’s only for a day or two.”
“Who’s going to feed her? You don’t plan to let her starve, do you?”
“You feed her. I don’t want your wives or kids anywhere near her, do you hear me? You feed her yourself.”
“What if she sees my face? She might recognize me later.”
“Do it at night. Just be careful. She might try to bolt.”
“Oh, Lord, what if she does?”
“Then you stop her! By any means necessary! Do you understand?”
A long hesitation. “You mean kill her? I can’t do that!”
“By any means necessary! Do you understand me, Enos!”
The reply was muffled, then the voices moved away. Suzanne stepped back and settled onto the wooden shelf. A million thoughts cycled through her mind, none of them doing her much good. This clearly had something to do with Nick, she was certain. Only a day or two? They had a plan, and she was part of it. The only question was, what could she do about it?
She lay down on the rough shelf, using the blanket as a pillow. She had to think, but first she needed to calm herself. This was nerve-wracking as hell. She closed her eyes…maybe rest them a few minutes to let the stress bleed away.
She jerked awake, her heart pounding. How long had she been dozing? Why had she wakened?
Then she heard the voices again, only they were different this time. One sounded like a child.
“Who was that lady?” Innocent. Curious.
“What lady? What are you talking about?” The same voice as before, the worried one. Enos.
“The lady from the car.”
“There was no lady in the car. Get back in the house.”
“But I saw her, Papa! She had a feed sack over her head.”
“You didn’t see anything, do you hear me! You stay away from her!”
A long pause.
“Papa, if I didn’t see anything, then why do I have to stay away from her? I did see a lady, didn’t I?”
Another pause, then a weary sigh.
“Listen, honey…I can’t explain this right now, but it’s very important that you forget what you saw. You must not ever tell anyone what you saw.”
“Okay, Papa. But who is she? Is she from town?”
“She isn’t from anywhere. Don’t worry about her, she’ll be gone tomorrow.”
“Is she the devil?”
“No, she isn’t the devil. She’s…she’s the devil’s wife.”
The Trimmer Plain – Alpha Centauri 2
Nick strolled slowly along the six rows of heavy guns, looking each one over carefully. They seemed to be in perfect condition. They were so new he doubted any of them had ever been fired. It was like standing on some mythical showroom floor where they sold artillery. He could even smell the paint on some of them.
He felt numb. These guns were bigger than anything the Coalition had used during the war. Nick had never seen a Coalition gun bigger than 67mm, and never more than a dozen in any one place. This clearing probably held more guns than the Coalition had used during the entire conflict, or close to it.
But why were they here? Who had brought them in, and from where? W
ho had paid for them?
“Were you in the war?” he asked Pickard, who still stood at the edge of the clearing.
“Yes.”
“Do you have any idea who supplied your weapons? Or where they came from?”
Pickard shook his head slowly, frowning as if the question made no sense.
“No. We were issued rifles and ammunition and when we needed more they gave us more.”
“Who did?”
“The officers.”
“It never occurred to you to wonder where the stuff came from? Or who supplied it?”
Pickard shook his head again. “Why would it? All I knew was that I was to obey orders.”
Nick didn’t pursue it. He couldn’t blame Pickard—the man was a cult creature, always subservient to some higher power. Obedience was a way of life. Unquestioning obedience. Authority came from the top, and those at the bottom had no rights, least of all the Right to Know.
“Who conducted your training?” Nick asked, trying another tack.
“I don’t know who they were. Professional soldiers.”
“Outsiders?”
“Most definitely. Godless men. Cruel men.”
“Did you ever hear them speak a different language?”
“Sometimes, when they spoke to one another. They also had heavy accents. I had trouble understanding some of them.”
Nick nodded. That corresponded with what Jeb Wiest had told him.
“Do you remember any of their names?”
“They never told us their names. We addressed them only by rank.”
“What did they look like? Were they white or dark?”
“White men. Blue eyes, blond hair, most of them. Muscular. A very rough sort.”
“How many were there?”
Pickard shifted uncomfortably. “Why do you want to know all this?”
“I’m trying to get an idea where these guns came from. Clearly they weren’t manufactured around here, and I doubt if they’re even from Alpha Two. They almost certainly came from off planet, but I need to know which planet.”
“Well…there were several training camps, and I was only at one. I think there were four outsiders there, no more than five.”
