Peacemaker: The Corona Rebellion 2564 AD

by Gordon Savage

  He had barely gotten away from the reception center when he heard the trolley approaching. He ducked behind a parked flyer, swearing under his breath. He impatiently watched as the driver pulled up to the loading shelter. He could see the driver pull out his communicator to transmit his arrival to the clerk but the man didn’t seem concerned when there was no answer. Instead, he leaned his seat back and pulled his cap bill over his eyes.

  Keeping flyers between him and the driver, Colt ran in a crouch toward the north end of the lot. About halfway there he saw the gate guard walking rapidly toward the reception building. He ducked down behind another flyer to avoid being seen. Colt heard him mumbling about the power cutting off in the middle of a webcast. When the guard cut through the parked flyers, Colt dashed to the gate and out of the parking lot.

  He had entered a newer part of town. Trees and shrubs provided sparse cover, but the roads wandered, making it harder for anyone who might be pursuing him to see him from any distance. As soon as he had gone around a bend and was no longer visible from the parking lot, he straightened up and began walking briskly. He deliberately followed streets that angled him north and westward, away from the direct route to downtown.

  He pulled his communicator out of his pocket and removed the battery to disable the tracking locator. More than once he passed someone on the street. He waved casually and maintained his power walk pace. In a few minutes he reached the older part of town. When it had been built, the Colonization Board had a single design for all debarkation points, laying the streets out in a rectangular grid. He looked back frequently to be sure no one was following him. Ten minutes later he guessed he had covered about a kilometer. He pulled out his communicator and reinstalled the battery. He dialed a personal number. “Tucker,” the voice said.

  “Owen, this is Gus. I’m trying to get in to see the commandant, but I just realized I don’t know where her office is.”

  “Gus! My God, what’s going on? The militia has orders to shoot you on sight.”

  “Wow! Someone really doesn’t want me to talk to her.” He glanced around to see if anyone was closing in on him. “I’m not sure what’s going on. When I checked in with the reception clerk, everything seemed to be going fine at first, but before long four militiamen charged into the building with stunners drawn. They were getting ready to clap me in irons. I was lucky to get away. So how do I find the commandant?”

  “She’s the mayor so she’s using her own office on the east side of the Commons, but I don’t recommend you get anywhere near her. Shoot on sight is no joke.”

  “I understand. Thanks for the info. I won’t take any unnecessary risks. I’ll give you a call when I’m through.” When he switched off the connection, he dropped the battery out of his communicator and pocketed it.

  He was still in a residential area, but he could see the roof of the hotel through gaps in the trees. He estimated he was only six or seven blocks from the Commons on the west side, and he knew exactly where he was going.

  Just then a flash of movement caught his eye. A troop carrier a little over a block away was coming slowly up one of the cross streets. Colt dodged behind a densely flowered bush. He held his breath as he listened for an indication that the militiamen had seen him. The carrier stopped. When it started up again a few seconds later, Colt realized the militiamen were going house to house to canvass the local residents and he didn’t have much time to get out of sight.

  He sprinted to the next intersection, only slowing down long enough to make sure there wasn’t a carrier coming up that street. He turned into the side street and continued sprinting. Two blocks farther, he spotted another carrier moving rapidly toward him. He ducked back and looked around. The only cover was a dense hedge around the house he stood in front of. He rolled under the hedge and crawled as far back as he could without coming out the other side.

  As he watched, the carrier turned at the corner and offloaded two militiamen. The one who took Colt’s side of the street walked within a meter of him. Colt held his breath as the man stopped and turned back toward the carrier. “Hey, Grimaldi, when does Meyers get to do the house to house?”

  A voice from the carrier said, “Shut up and get on with it, Taylor.” The carrier continued slowly down the street, while the militiamen went house to house.

  Colt was getting ready to crawl out the back side of the hedge when a deep voice behind him said, “I gather you’re the one they’re looking for.”

  Colt rolled out from under the hedge. He looked up at a dark haired man frowning at him. “Why shouldn’t I call that militiaman back?” the man asked.

  “Because they have a shoot on sight order out for me.”

  The man took a step back, “What for?”

  “I’m trying to talk with the commandant, and the militia doesn’t want me to.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not sure, but I suspect it has something to do with the fact that a couple of renegade militiamen kidnapped my fiancée’s son yesterday and the militia is hushing it up for some reason.”

  “Can you verify that?” the man asked.

  “Call Deputy Marshal Tucker.”

  The man extended his hand. “If Owen trusts you, that’s good enough for me,” he said, helping Colt to his feet. “I think you’d better get moving.” He pointed to an opening in the hedge beside the house. “You can use that gate without being seen by the militia.”

  Colt thanked him and hurried toward the shops on the west side of the Commons. He had a particular shop in mind.

  ###

  Ackerman, smiling, met him at the door of the jewelry store. “Mr. August, it’s a pleasure to see you again, sir. What can we do for you today?”

  “I don’t know my way around Sykesville very well. I was wondering if you know of a place where I can get a costume for Brady’s birthday party.”

  Ackerman continued to smile. “I’m afraid we don’t have a costume shop, but a traveling theatrical troupe is in town. Perhaps they could help you.”

  The troupe had their vans in the old motor pool parking lot, too close to the patrolling militiamen as far as Colt was concerned, but he couldn’t see any other way to try to get an effective disguise. He approached the motor pool around the south end of the Common’s lake and stopped at the door of one of the vans. The side of the van was decorated with playbills.

  An attractive woman in an unfamiliar period costume answered his knock.

  “Hi. I know this is going to sound weird,” Colt said, “but if possible I need to borrow a costume for a few hours. Is there someone I can talk to?”

  “Come on in,” she said to his surprise. Then she leaned back inside the van, “Hey, Matt, we’ve got a live one.”

  As Colt stepped inside the van, she said to him, “That has to be the most unique come-on I’ve ever heard.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Your excuse for getting to meet us.” She turned as a tall, thin man with a black beard came out of one of the rooms in the back of the van. “Meet Matt Striker,” she said, and then turned to Colt. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “William August.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Bill. I’m Delores Quinton.”

  “Please, call me Gus,” he said as he shook Striker’s hand. “I remember you. You were Christian in Mutiny on the Bounty. You played for us my graduating year at the Academy back in ‘43.”

  “Ah, yes, the good old days. One of my favorite roles. Are you here for an autograph?”

  “I’d love to have one, but I really am trying to find a costume I can borrow.”

  “What’s the occasion?” Delores asked.

  “I’m trying to get to see the commandant, and the militia is patrolling the street to keep me out.”

  “You’re not that dastardly William August, are you?” Delores said with a twinkle.

  “Dastardly, no. William August, yes.”

  “We were told you had a vendetta against the commandant and were trying to kill her,” Strike
r said.

  “I don’t have anything against the commandant,” Gus said. “Other than a couple of militiamen kidnapped my fiancée’s son yesterday. I’m trying to talk to the commandant to make sure it doesn’t happen again, but the militia seems to be determined to stop me.”

  “Why shouldn’t we turn you in?” Delores asked.

  “A shoot on sight order?” Colt sounded incredulous. “That’s what you do to someone who has something potentially damaging to say. I don’t expect any good citizen to obey it, so I don’t expect you to turn me over to someone who might.”

  “An interesting turn of logic there,” Striker laughed. “And you’re right, we won’t turn you in.” He beckoned and started toward the back of the van. “Come with me.”

  When Colt emerged twenty minutes later, he had red hair and a beard and was wearing garishly bright clothes.

  “All I need is a clown nose,” he said.

  ###

  From the motor pool parking lot he walked up the east loop road, deliberately gawking at the militia patrol in the street.

  “Move along fellow. This isn’t a circus,” one of the militiamen said.

  He continued up the street, trying to figure out how he could get by the guards and into the city building, when one of the guards caught his eye. It was Jeff Lippmann. He turned back and walked over to Lippmann.

  “Excuse me,” he said loudly. “What the hell is going on here? Why are you guys patrolling the streets?”

  Lippmann recognized Colt and looked at him quizzically.

  “Jeff, I’m surrendering to you,” Colt said quietly. “Have me lie down so no one has an excuse to shoot, and invite the commandant’s guards out to lock me up in the municipal jail.”

  “What are you doing?” Jeff asked.

  “I don’t have time to explain,” Colt said. “Just do it.”

  Lippmann drew his blaster and pointed it at Colt. “On your face, now,” he ordered. Colt immediately dropped to the ground. Lippmann waved to the two nearest guards to come over. Then he pulled out his communicator and made the call.

  The first militiaman arrived with his blaster drawn. “What’s up?”

  Lippmann closed his communicator and put it away. “This is William August. He surrendered to me of his own free will so there’s no need to shoot him. Just in case keep a blaster on him while I shackle him.”

  “How do you know he’s August?”

  “I’ve met him before,” Lippmann answered. He finished locking the wrist bands of the shackles. Before he had completely patted Colt down, four of the commandant’s guards rushed out of the city building and down the steps. Lippmann stood up. “He’s all yours fellows.”

  “Hey, wait a minute,” said the first militiaman. “Shouldn’t we be taking him in?”

  “That’s what these guys are doing. What do we want him for? The commandant will probably have some questions for him, but we caught him. Our job is done.”

  The commandant’s guards pulled Colt to his feet and propelled him toward the city building. As they were leading him inside a carrier rolled up. A sergeant jumped out, drew his blaster, and pointed it at Colt. He swore loudly, stuffed the blaster back in his holster, and yelled, “What have you meatheads done? He was to be shot on sight!” The doors closed on Colt and the guards.

  The city building only had one cell and it was empty. As the guards released his shackles and closed the door on Colt, one of them asked him, “What are we locking you up for?”

  “Beats me. I just wanted to see if I could have a few words with the commandant. Would you see if she has time?” Colt thought about the guard’s question. They obviously hadn’t gotten the shoot on sight order, which meant the commandant hadn’t issued it. When she found out about it, she would want to know who had and why. Someone wanted to keep him away from her, probably because it would tell her something she wasn’t supposed to know. Whoever it was, it was becoming increasingly clear that the militia had two chains of command at work.

  Colt had just finished pulling off the wig and fake beard when one of the guards returned. “The militia has word that you plan to kill the commandant.”

  “Does that make sense to you? I surrendered of my own free will, and I’m unarmed. Ask them where they got that information.”

  The guard returned a few minutes later. “They said it was passed down through channels.”

  “In other words no one is taking responsibility for it. Did it come down through your channels?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Makes you wonder who’s in charge here, doesn’t it?” Colt questioned. “Are there any off-world ex-military in the commandant’s guards?”

  “Just one, Corporal Jennings. Why?”

  “That means you didn’t hear about the shoot on sight order when it went out. You just heard about it a few minutes ago, right?”

  The guard nodded agreement.

  “That had to be a last ditch effort to keep me from talking to the commandant.” Colt paused. “Okay, let me tell you what I want to talk to her about. You can pass it on and she can decide whether to talk to me. Fair enough?”

  When the guard left again, Colt reclined on the cot and stared at the ceiling, wondering over and over if he had done the right thing. Eventually he dozed off.

  He woke to voices coming from outside the cell area. “We came here to interview Mr. William August,” A woman’s voice demanded. In a moment a blond, older man carrying a video camera came in accompanied by a guard. He reached through the bars and shook Colt’s hand. “Sorry we’re so late. I’m Dave Cavanaugh. Martha is getting scanned and will be here in a minute.”

  Cavanaugh began setting up sound pickups around the cell. “Before we could leave First Landing, we had to cover a group of protesters outside the governor general’s palace,” he explained. “By the time the dust settled, it was already late. Then, when we got here, the blokes at the reception building wanted to confiscate our equipment. If I hadn’t already been transmitting, they probably would have.”

  At that moment Martha Fletcher, a professional-looking brunette, walked in accompanied by another guard. The guard said, “We just got word to release you, Mr. August. We’re sorry for the inconvenience. Also, the Commandant has time to see you now. Ms. Fletcher and Mr. Cavanaugh you’re welcome to video the discussion if Mr. August doesn’t object.”

  ###

  Her Honor, Susan Winsock, Mayor of Sykesville sat behind a heavy wooden desk. . Somehow, she didn’t look out of place in the camouflaged fatigues. She rose and extended her hand. “Mr. August, please accept my apologies for your recent treatment.” She turned to Fletcher and Cavanaugh. “Ms. Fletcher, Mr. Cavanaugh. Feel free to set up any way you see fit,” she smiled and shook their hands.

  Returning to Colt she nodded toward a chair. “Mr. August, have a seat and tell me what I can do for you.”

  Colt spent several minutes describing the veiled threats he and Lindsay had been subjected to and Brady’s kidnapping. He concluded with, “Naturally I’m concerned about the safety of two people I love, and after this episode, I can’t be confident that harassment won’t turn nasty again. If you have any control over it, I want you to call off the dogs.”

  Winsock bristled, “I understand your concern, Mr. August, but I honestly have no knowledge of any attempts to harass you or anyone else in the southern part of the province. Also, my office had nothing to do with calling off the official search for your fiancée’s son.”

  “Ma’am, I believe you,” Colt responded, “But someone who has access to your office’s web server definitely sent out the message. Whoever did it also had a spider on the web looking out for traffic related to the kidnapping. That’s the only way they could have responded so rapidly.”

  Winsock nodded. “I see what you mean.”

  Colt continued, “I’d recommend having your IT person do an immediate security check before the perpetrator has a chance to erase his or her tracks. You may also want to review who you trust becaus
e someone is using your authority behind your back.”

  “Point taken. Roberta Nguyen handles our IT work.” She spoke to her AI, “Winston, get Roberta on a secure line and interrupt us as soon as she responds.” She leaned back in her chair and placed her finger tips together in a thoughtful pose. “I have to admit I’ve noticed some unexplained activities going on, but since they’ve generally been effective and this is a civilian militia, I let them pass as field commanders taking the initiative.” She looked thoughtful. “Now that I think about it, maybe I was deliberately being bypassed — someone else higher up issuing orders.”

  She straightened up. “Wait a minute. Corporal Jennings was assigned here by direct orders from the regional commander. If anyone is channeling orders from higher up in the chain of command, he’d be the one. Winston, find Corporal Jennings and have him report here immediately.”

  Colt frowned, “One other thing. The shoot on sight order was to keep me from getting to you. Now that I’ve spoken with you, I hope I haven’t put you in real danger.”

  “This feed is going out live, so the whole planet knows about what’s going on here. I don’t think anyone would be stupid enough to come after you under the circumstances,” Martha said.

  At that moment Winston interrupted, “Dr. Nguyen wasn’t available on a secure line so I left her a message to call back as soon as she could. Also, Corporal Jennings has just arrived. Shall I send him in?”

  “Please do,” the commandant responded.

  The door opened, and Corporal Jennings stepped in. “Corporal Jennings reporting as ordered, ma’am.”

  “At ease, corporal. Have a seat.”

  Jennings started to take a chair, but when he saw Colt, he said, “August!” and reached for his blaster.

  “Don’t do it, corporal. You’re live on the web,” Colt commanded.

  Jennings hesitated. “But there’s a shoot on sight order.”

  “It’s been rescinded, and blasters make such a mess indoors,” Colt responded wryly.

  “Just sit down, Corporal,” Winsock ordered.