Flames of Rebellion

by Jay Allan

  “Same to you, Cal. I figured if they were bold enough to come for me, you had to be on the list, too.” With Jacen’s background of dissent back on Earth, Danforth knew his ally had to be at the top of any suspects list the feds had compiled.

  “I was fortunate enough to be out when they came for me. I got a warning, and I hid until nightfall. I didn’t want to come out here until I was sure I wasn’t being followed. And I figured if I waited until dark, their satellites couldn’t track me either.”

  Danforth nodded, and he rubbed his eyes. It had been a brutally stressful day, and now it was after midnight. He was exhausted, but he knew sleep was nowhere in sight. Shaking his head to get the blood flowing, he said, “I just hope everyone else was as careful. Not that there’s so many of us left—they have a lot of our people in custody.” He paused. “We can’t stay here long. Somebody will break, and then we’ll have federal troopers pouring out of these woods.”

  Hamlen’s Farm was one of the Guardians’ hideouts, a meeting place intended for situations just like the current one. But too many people who knew its location hadn’t made it out. Danforth knew the feds were skilled at extracting information from captives . . . and if half the reports filtering in from Landfall were true, Governor Wells’s moderate policies were a thing of the past.

  “There’s more than that to worry about,” Jacen said. “I have some intel from one of my spies inside the federal complex. It’s not good, John. The feds know about Vincennes. They’re sending a column of soldiers to seize it all.”

  Danforth felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. Vincennes was one of the Guardians’ primary weapons storage areas. A federal move against the village meant that almost half the guns and ordnance they’d acquired—at great risk and expense—were in jeopardy. If the federals took Vincennes, the revolution was over before it began.

  He looked around the room, at the grim faces of his compatriots. “That’s it, then—that is where we make our first stand. Where we take the fight out into the open.”

  “Yes!” Fist clenched and thrust into the air, Jacen’s excitement was obvious. “To arms—we will fight until no federal oppressors breathe Haven air.”

  The men and women in the room had been glum, tired, seeming more like hunted animals than fiery revolutionaries. But now they began to come alive once more. The reality of all they’d been planning was finally coming to fruition. And the terror of the previous day—of being on the run for their lives—was now a thing of the past. Now they were going to be running toward the feds . . . and their guns would be blazing. These were brave men and women—the defiance it required to go to secret meetings and make speeches in barns late at night was proof of that. And now that bravery would need to evolve, to turn into the courage to stand against enemy soldiers, to defy death on the battlefield. To fight the war they had so long sought, yet never truly understood.

  Danforth felt it, too.

  One by one, the others shouted, “Yes!” and followed Jacen’s lead, thrusting their hands in the air.

  John Danforth was the last. He stepped forward, standing between Jacen and his cousin. He raised his own arm up. “To victory.”

  “To victory!”

  “But now we have work to do,” Jacen said. “We have to get the word out, rally the Guardians. We must have our forces assembled at Vincennes by midday tomorrow, armed and ready for battle.”

  “We have been trying to contact as many of the Guardians as possible, Cal. I wanted to warn them in case any are on the feds’ list. But the federals are jamming all our comms . . . and using the ground lines would be like lighting a signal flare about where we are.”

  “We knew this was coming, though. I’ve got men ready to spread the word—by transport, by speeder . . . even on foot, if need be. I’ll send them out immediately.”

  “But will that be enough?”

  Jacen thought about it. “Probably not. So let us ride as well. All of us. If we spread out, we should be able to get it done in time.”

  “Yes.” Danforth put his hand on Jacen’s shoulder. “Let us ride, all of us. Let us carry the warning and rouse the people. It is time . . . time to fight for their freedom.”

  “It is time,” they all repeated.

  He walked over to a map that was spread on a nearby table. Pointing at various locations, Danforth started divvying up the area around the capital. “Cal, you head west, toward Weldon and Milton.” He turned. “Annie, you and Charles go north, and alert everyone in the valley. Jack, Tony . . . south, to the villages along the river. But be careful, you’ll be close to Landfall.” Finally, he turned toward his cousin. “And Ty and I will head east, to Lamberton and the Palisades.”

  He paused and looked around the room. “And never forget, this is the day we have worked for . . . our one chance to preserve Haven’s liberty, to fight off the oppression of Federal America . . . to live our own lives, to create a better world, for our children and grandchildren. Do not stop, any of you, until you have completed your missions. I know you’re tired—God knows I am. And I know you’re afraid, at least on some level. We’d be stupid not to be. But our task is righteous. The Guardians are ready to fight. We’ll have time to rest when the last feds are off Haven . . . or when we’re dead!”

  He was breathing hard now. “I have never been prouder in my life than I am now in all of you. Go! Rouse the Guardians—and all others who will rally to our cause—and light the fire of revolution!”

  The small group broke out in a cheer, and each of them in turn stepped forward, gripping Danforth’s hand or embracing the rebel leader.

  Then they filtered out, one and two at a time. Some of them climbed into transports, others mounted small speeders. They headed off, each in a different direction, to spread the same message: the federals are coming.

  “Do you see why I insisted you come?” Griff Daniels was speaking to a slightly built woman. Elisa Hendricks stood just over a meter and a half, and she didn’t weigh a gram more than forty-five kilos. She was lying on the ground looking over the crest of a small hill at a house. Her house.

  There were federal soldiers there, at least a dozen. They had arrived in two transports, and they had poured out of their vehicles, moving immediately toward the building. They didn’t pause, didn’t bother with the formality of knocking. They just smashed the door down and made their way inside, armed to the teeth.

  “That farm is all I have,” Elisa said, the despair clear in her tone. “Perhaps if I’d stayed . . .”

  “No.” Nerov turned and looked at her. “They’re here for you as much as anyone else. It’s the only thing that makes sense. They clearly know more than we think.”

  “What do you mean?” Elisa asked.

  “Just that there are no official records of Griff having a relationship with you, no documentation of any kind. No one knows at all as far as I am aware of, save for me . . . and whoever else on the crew Griff told.”

  Daniels shook his head. “No one.”

  “So how did they know he was with me?”

  “Exactly,” Nerov said. “The federals have tremendous surveillance capability. They control the satellite network. There are cameras everywhere, too. And even though the governor had a passive strategy, it would be a mistake to say that just because he didn’t use information, he didn’t have it.” She turned toward her first officer. “Indeed, they clearly had more on us than we thought, Griff. They flagged Vagabond almost immediately after the federal observer took charge.”

  He grimaced, turning to Elisa. “I’m so sorry. I should never have gotten involved with you. As a smuggler, I knew that there was always the potential the government would come after me.”

  Elisa just shook her head, though, and reached out to put her hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “No, Griff. Don’t say that. I knew what you were when we first met, and I went in with my eyes open. And I would have lost this farm by now without your help. I let you pay off my debts, and I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t know where t
hat money came from.”

  Nerov had turned back toward the house, giving Griff and Elisa what minuscule level of privacy she could. But a few seconds later she looked back toward them. “We better get out of here.” She gestured toward the house. The soldiers were coming back out, some moving toward their vehicles, others setting out across the fields surrounding the house. “They’re going to search the area. We need to be gone. Now.”

  She took a last look. Two of the soldiers were standing in front of the house. They walked back about twenty meters and then one of them held out a small device. An instant later there was an explosion, and plumes of flame burst through the house’s windows.

  Elisa let out a startled cry, watching as the troops burned her home. Griff had moved next to her, and he put his hand over her mouth to stifle her shout almost as soon as it was out. They were probably too far away to be heard, but there was no sense taking chances.

  “We’ve got to get to the others.” Nerov stood up, moving back into the woods. “It may be too late, but we have to try.”

  Daniels looked down at the ground for a few seconds, clearly thinking. “There’s an inn a bunch of the crew stay at. And I know a brothel where a few of the boys spend most of their shore time.” He looked up at Nerov, a concerned look on his face. “But they’re both in Landfall, Captain.”

  “Then we head back to Landfall, Griff. There’s no choice. I owe you all too much to not try.” And as she watched Elisa’s home burn to the ground, the thought of getting into the thick of things was starting to have more and more appeal to her.

  Jacen sat at the controls of the small transport, driving it down the winding country road at a pace that could only be described as reckless. He’d already been to the village of Weldon, and he’d rallied the Guardians there, and half the other townsfolk as well. Weldon was hard-core rebel country, and before he left he’d seen most of the fighting-age men and women in the village formed up, ready to march . . . and the half dozen loyalists in the village imprisoned in a storage shed. He’d have preferred a more decisive solution for the traitors—Jacen had no pity for those who stood in the way of the revolution—but he knew it would be too much to expect the citizens of Weldon to shoot their neighbors in cold blood.

  At least for now. Wait until there have been a few battles, when the lists of the dead are posted and the feds begin executing rebels en masse. Then the rage will come . . . and neighbor will fall upon neighbor, and cleanse away those without the vision to see the future.

  He turned sharply onto a small road, not much more than a trail, really. The transport barely fit, and he could hear the branches and leaves scraping against the side of the vehicle. But the path was a familiar one, and Jacen continued on, stopping as soon as he came to a clearing. He looked ahead. There was another vehicle, similar to his own, parked, a man standing in front of it.

  He opened the hatch and stepped out, walking across the small meadow. It was a secluded spot, completely surrounded by woods. It was just after 2:00 A.M., and neither moon was visible. The only light came from the two transports.

  “It is here, my friend.” There was excitement in Jacen’s voice, satisfaction. He walked toward the other vehicle. “The day we have waited for, worked for. Revolution.”

  Zig Welch moved toward Jacen, extending his arm and shaking his ally’s hand. “I heard about the violence in Landfall. They are saying over a hundred were killed. That will surely be the spark to ignite rebellion.”

  It dawned on Jacen that with the comms down, Zig hadn’t heard. And for some reason, that made him even more excited. “Well over a hundred. And two hundred more injured. But that’s of no moment.”

  “What?”

  “We need not rely on the people anymore. Their deaths are terrible, but war is all but certain without them. In fact, it will begin this very day.”

  “What?” Zig repeated. “Tell me—what else has happened?”

  Jacen smiled. “The federals know of the Guardians’ weapons cache at Vincennes. They are sending a force—even now they are likely making preparations.”

  “Do the Guardians know?”

  “They are alerted. Indeed, I am charged with rallying those in Weldon and Milton and the area all around.” His smile turned vicious. “It’s finally here, Zig.”

  “At last. What good fortune. We could hardly have planned it better.”

  Jacen stared back at his compatriot. “Fortune is for fools, my friend. The revolution is too important to trust to the vagaries of fate. Indeed, this is all part of the plan, come at last to fruition.”

  “You don’t mean . . .”

  Jacen smiled. “Of course . . . how do you think the feds got the information about Vincennes and the weapons hidden there?”

  Welch stared back, confusion on his face giving way to shock. “You . . .”

  “I told them. Of course I did. Or at least I helped them find the information.”

  “My God, Cal. I understand your intention to incite hostilities, but should you have risked something as vital as Vincennes?”

  “There was no choice. It had to be something the Guardians had to defend. I wouldn’t allow there to be a chance they would choose not to fight. With luck, the weapons will be saved, but even if they are lost, we will have what we desperately need. Revolution.”

  Welch stood silently for a moment. Then he said simply, “Revolution.”

  “I must go. I need to reach Milton as soon as possible. We must have as much strength as possible at Vincennes when the federals arrive.”

  Welch nodded.

  “And you must go as well. Warn the brotherhood. They, too, must come to Vincennes. We need every man or woman, even children old enough to wield a gun.”

  “Consider it done, Cal.” Welch nodded. “I will see you in the morning, comrade . . . on the first battlefield of the revolution.”

  Jacen nodded back. “The revolution,” he repeated. Then he turned and walked back to the transport.

  “Awaken! Arise! Get your weapons, and march now to Vincennes.” Tyler Danforth stood in the middle of the small village’s main road, shouting as loudly as he could manage.

  Lamberton wasn’t much to look at, but it was the center of a fertile farming sector. It was also a community almost totally united in its support for the rebel cause.

  John Danforth walked down the street, banging on doors, adding his own voice to his cousin’s. “Citizens of Lamberton, it’s time! We march to face the federals, to unfurl the flag of freedom.”

  Danforth had to suppress a bit of bitter amusement at the primitive nature of his call to action. Mankind was a spacefaring race, yet he and his people were scurrying from town to town, shouting and beating on doors. We might as well be using lanterns in church steeples. But even if they wanted to risk physical connection, there were no landlines out in farming country.

  All down the streets he could see lights coming on, and bleary-eyed men and women pouring out into the street, many with weapons already in hand.

  “It is John and Tyler Danforth,” John shouted to a group in front of him. “We bring the call for the Guardians of Liberty. You are needed. They have murdered hundreds in the streets of Landfall! They have been rounding up innocent citizens of Haven! Revolution is upon us, and even now the federals prepare to march on Vincennes. We need your help. Go to Vincennes, and stand with your brothers and sisters. It is time to fight for your homes, for freedom!”

  The people lining the roads were mostly quiet at first, but then a ragged cheer began. Danforth could see the Guardians beginning to gather on the road in front of them, and as they did the cheer rode in intensity.

  The Guardians wore work clothes and coveralls, and all manner of boots. They were farmers and tradesfolk, laborers and skilled professionals, but they formed up as one, and on each of their heads there was a black hat with a white cockade, the symbol of their resolve. They had long hidden their badge, but now it was displayed proudly on fifty heads . . . and more were coming. And on
the outskirts of the village, children were already running off over the hills, sent out to spread the word to the surrounding farms.

  Danforth stepped into the crowds, reaching out, shaking hands, and grabbing on to his comrades. “Will you go? Will you do as I ask and stand with me to face the federals?”

  The roar was almost deafening, a single word that seemed to echo again and again off the surrounding hillsides. “Yes!”

  Ty walked up to his cousin. “I almost pity the federals,” he said, clearly moved by the response of the villagers.

  John nodded, but he didn’t say anything. As much as any one man, he was the living, breathing heart of the revolution. And he was proud of these people, of those who had joined the Guardians, and of the other villagers, clearly rallying to the cause, some of them standing with nothing more than tools and farming implements for weapons. They were good people, and in them he saw the greatness of Haven. The greatness that could be. But he also knew some of them would die before the day was out. That these cheers would be replaced by the cries and wails of family members learning their husbands and wives, sons and daughters, would never return. He believed with all his heart that freedom was worth fighting for, even dying for, but he also knew that didn’t lessen the cost war extracted. If Haven could win its independence, there would be celebrations and wild, unrestrained joy. But there would also be sadness and tears, the somber remembrance of those who had died in the struggle.

  And that starts today . . .

  “Ty, go on to the Palisades without me. Tell the people there as we did here, and I will meet you at Vincennes before dawn.”

  Tyler turned and looked at his cousin. “Where are you going?”

  “There is one more person I would see, who I would bring into our cause if I am able.”

  “Is one man really worth your time?”

  “He is if his name is Damian Ward.”

  “Daddy . . . Daddy . . . please open the door . . .” Katia Rand was prone on the front porch, banging as hard as she could manage. The first rays of light were just poking their way over the eastern mountains. She’d been running, hiding, desperately trying to get home since the day before.