by John Bowers
“Reverend Wiest?”
“You don’t have to call me that,” the older man said. “You can call me Jeb.” He spoke with a distinct Midwestern drawl.
Nick smiled and offered his hand. Wiest took it with a firm grip, gave it a single shake, and released it. Without being invited, Nick pulled up a chair and sat down, removing his hat and placing it on his knee.
“Thank you for seeing me.”
Wiest hadn’t broken eye contact, and seemed to be studying him.
“From what I hear, I didn’t have much choice. You refused to go away.”
“That’s right. If I may ask, why did you expect me to?”
“Don’t have much need to talk to strangers,” Wiest said. “Outsiders have no business here.”
“Fair enough.”
“What did you want to see me about?”
“Initially, I just wanted to get acquainted.”
“Why?”
“Well…I’m the new U.F. Marshal at Trimmer Springs, and your community falls under my jurisdiction. I like to know the people I’m supposed to protect.”
“We don’t need your protection, Marshal.”
“The other reason I wanted to meet you is that my deputy was murdered this morning.”
Wiest’s expression didn’t change, nor did he indicate any surprise.
“Someone killed him with a rifle from the bell tower in Trimmer Springs.”
“That bell tower is a dangerous place,” Wiest said. “Lot of people have been killed from there.”
“Yes, they have. You don’t seem surprised to hear that my deputy was killed.”
“What happens in Trimmer Springs is of little interest to me.”
“Is that why you didn’t attend the town meeting last night?”
“I wasn’t aware of any town meeting. In any case, I never attend those.”
“Your buddy was there.”
“My buddy?”
“Father Groening.”
“I’m afraid you’re misinformed; Father isn’t my buddy.”
“No?” Nick shifted in his chair. “Seems you allied with him about twelve years ago in the war against the Federation.”
“I didn’t ally with anybody. I wasn’t in charge here then. That was my father.”
“Really. So where do you stand now?”
Wiest smiled for the first time. “Now, Marshal, we discover the real reason you came to see me.”
Nick returned the smile, but didn’t reply.
“You were the man in the bell tower that day. I heard you were in town. But I didn’t kill your deputy and none of my people killed him.”
“How do you know? You have several thousand followers, don’t you?”
“Many, many thousands. We outnumber the Groaners five to one. But my people don’t carry weapons. We’re peaceful. Nonviolent. You should really go see Father Groening.”
“You didn’t answer my other question,” Nick told him.
“Which question was that?”
“About where you stand. As you pointed out, the real reason I came here.”
“I told you, we’re nonviolent.”
Nick heaved a deep sigh. “As I recall, eight years ago you had about fifty thousand men who were anything but nonviolent.”
“That was a mistake. As I said, I wasn’t in charge then.”
“Like father, like son.”
“My father was misled. He made a bad decision.”
“You would have made a different one?”
“Yes.”
Nick stared at him in silence. Wiest stared right back. After an uncomfortable silence he held up his left hand. Half of it, including the two smallest fingers, was missing.
“I was opposed to my father’s decision, but once he made it, I followed it faithfully. I fought with the Coalition, even though doing so violated every Christian principle I hold. I have this to show for it.”
“Nasty wound.”
Wiest smiled in irony. “From the bell tower.”
Nick felt jolted. A slow flush crept up from his neck and his face flamed red.
“I’m sorry.”
“No reason you should be. We were trying very hard to kill you that day. But you had the better position, and a better weapon.”
“If it helps,” Nick said, “I got a few holes in me, too. Maybe you put one of them there.”
“I don’t think so.” Wiest held up the hand again. “I got this before I was in range. I never got off a single shot.”
It was an awkward moment, and for the first time since he arrived, Nick actually felt like an intruder.
He cleared his throat.
“Why did your father ally with Groening? Surely he embraced the same Christian principles you do?”
Wiest shifted in his chair, relaxing a little, and nodded.
“My grandfather was Homer Wiest—that’s why people call us Homerites. He brought the congregation from Terra over a hundred years ago and settled here in this valley. He was looking for a ‘fortress of rocks’, a place to ride out the Great Tribulation. Do you know about the Tribulation, Marshal?”
Nick nodded. “I’ve read the Bible. The book of Revelation, right?”
“Yes. Many churches believe in what they call the Rapture, but that’s a man-made fable that has no foundation in scripture. In fact, the word ‘rapture’ doesn’t even appear in the Bible. However, Matthew 24 and Luke 21 suggest that believers will flee into the mountains when the Tribulation arrives, and other scriptures speak of divine protection from the wrath of God. My grandfather interpreted this to mean that God would provide a place of safety for His followers.”
“Your grandfather thought God was talking about Alpha Centauri?”
Wiest shrugged. “It sounds silly to you, but things on Terra were getting more and more wicked. I’m not sure exactly how he justified it in his own mind, but he wanted to get away from the worldliness of that planet and find a simpler place to live. Alpha 2 was new and unspoiled, a paradise compared to the overcrowded conditions at home. Maybe he thought Alpha 2 was the place of safety the Bible was talking about, maybe he had some other explanation, but in any case he moved everyone here. It was quite an exodus, over fifty thousand people migrating to the stars.”
“And this valley is that fortress of rocks.”
“It certainly looks like one, doesn’t it?” Wiest smiled.
“What about your father?”
“I think Dad decided at some point that the Great Tribulation either wasn’t coming or had already happened. Many people believe the Roman destruction of Jerusalem in 70 A.D. was the fulfillment of that prophecy, you know, so maybe he came to the same conclusion. He never said much about it, but after he became head of the church the Tribulation wasn’t talked about much anymore.
“Instead, he shifted focus from the End of the Age to building a Christian nation. Our congregation was growing rapidly and this land was wide open. He began to envision a physical paradise where we could live happily and in safety. He spent forty years working toward that, and our settlements have spread for miles across the plain.”
“How did he get involved with the Groaners?”
Wiest frowned as he stared at his desk.
“The Groaners have a completely different outlook than we do. Yes, they look similar on the outside, they live the simple life as we do, but they have a more militant outlook. Where we simply want to live in peace, to practice our religion and raise our children, they are more inclined to domination. Their mandate is to convert and control the entire planet. Unfortunately, they chose this same region when they settled here. The plain was big enough to accommodate everyone, but when the Federation invited Centauris to decide on a government, they wanted to run the whole thing.”
“What did your father want?”
Wiest looked up with narrowed eyes.
“We simply wanted our own country. We don’t want the entire planet. Let others live according to their beliefs, and let us have our own country. T
hat was it.”
Nick nodded slowly as understanding dawned on him.
“The Federation would never go for that.”
“No. The Federation believes each planet should be under a single central government. Dad’s proposal for local autonomy was rejected outright.”
“And the Groaners…?”
“They wanted to establish a planetary theocracy. That was also rejected.”
“Because the Federation is based on the concept of religious freedom for all.”
“Correct. But Groening wasn’t willing to accept that. He wanted it all. Give him a theocracy and he could force the entire planet to worship as he directed.”
“And he still wants that?”
“Of course he does.”
“It sounds like your father and Groening were of opposite minds. How did the Coalition come about?”
“Groening told my dad that if he could get control of the government, he would give us our separate nation. He wouldn’t have, of course, but he knew my dad wanted that more than anything. He sold it to him, adding that, if a secular government got control, our little corner of the planet would be overrun with unbelievers, and we would eventually be assimilated or, like the Amish back on Terra, become a tourist attraction, a laughingstock. Unfortunately, Dad bought the argument. I told him it was wrong, that Groening was using him, but he was terrified of losing what we had. Privately, I think he was afraid that, under his stewardship, everything my grandfather had built would be destroyed.”
“How was Groening using him?”
“Marshal, I told you, we outnumber the Groaners five to one. To build their army, they needed manpower. We supplied eighty percent of it. As it turned out, their losses were fifty percent higher than ours, but without us they would have been wiped out.”
Nick nodded. It made sense. “Where did the weapons come from?”
Wiest shook his head. “To this day I don’t know the answer to that. I do know the people who trained the troops weren’t from around here. They had strange accents and treated us like circus animals, but they were good at what they did and we did learn to fight. I suspect they were mercenaries and the weapons were black market.”
“You had some pretty powerful stuff,” Nick said, remembering some long nights under heavy artillery bombardment.
“Yes, we did. But the Star Marines did, too. The first time I came up against one of your outfits I knew it was a lost cause. We did just fine against local militias, but the Star Marines…well, that was another story.”
Nick grimaced. “Too bad your leaders didn’t recognize that.”
“I wish they had. A lot of lives could have been saved.”
“On both sides,” Nick agreed. “No treaty was ever signed, you know. No formal end to the fighting was ever declared.”
Wiest nodded quietly. “That’s true.”
“Some people are worried that it might start up again, sometime in the future. What’s your view on that?”
“Well…I can’t tell you unequivocally that it won’t, but I can assure you that my people won’t be a part of it. We were wrong the last time and it’s a mistake I don’t intend for us to repeat.”
“Do I have your word on that?”
“You do.”
“Thank you.”
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“If you have any information about who might have killed my deputy, then I would appreciate knowing that.”
Wiest lowered his head a fraction. “I wasn’t aware of that until you told me. I can ask my congregation to keep their ears open. Many of them live near Groaner farms, and they may be able to pick up something.”
Nick nodded. “Advise them to play it close to the vest. I would ask them to pass the information along, but none of them should do or say anything to put themselves at risk.”
“They’ll be careful. Dealing with the Groaners can sometimes be an exercise in caution.”
“What about you? What kind of relationship do you have with Father Groening?”
“Guarded. He’s a rather forceful individual, very much in your face. I’m more retiring.”
“Do you consider him a danger to your people?”
“Potentially. Thankfully we still outnumber him. If it ever became necessary, we would defend ourselves.”
“I would also hope you would call me.”
Wiest smiled patiently. “No offense, Marshal, but we believe in relying on the Lord to fight our battles.”
“Like you did twelve years ago?”
Wiest frowned. “I already explained that. We let ourselves forget who we are, where our strength lay, and we paid the price. We won’t make that mistake again.”
“Fair enough. Just take into consideration the possibility that the Lord provided the U.F. Marshal to help out.”
For the first time in their meeting, Wiest laughed out loud.
“Okay, I will consider the possibility. Anything else?”
“Yeah, I was wondering…given the proximity of your people to the Groaners, do they interact very much?”
Wiest nodded. “Sure. They aren’t bad people, for the most part. They have bad apples and so do we, but the majority are decent on both sides. Some of our people even intermarry with them.”
“Really!” Nick was surprised.
Wiest nodded sheepishly. “My own sister, in fact.”
“Your sister married a Groaner? How did your dad feel about that?”
“Wasn’t much he could say. It was during the time he was allied with them. The man she married is a pompous ass, but I guess she loves him.”
Nick thought a moment, then placed both hands on the arm of his chair.
“Well, I guess that’s it. Again, thank you for seeing me.”
Wiest escorted him into the outer office. Through broad windows Nick could see his hovercar parked down the street. The two deacons still waited nearby, as if guarding it.
“This is quite a setup you have here,” Nick said. “Your tabernacle is impressive.”
“Actually, it’s misnamed. A true ‘tabernacle’ is just a temporary dwelling, like a tent or a hut. But over time the term has been misinterpreted until most people think it’s some great temple or cathedral. My father built this place and called it a tabernacle and I never bothered to correct the error.”
“I saw solar panels on the roof and a communications array. That’s quite a contrast to everything else I’ve seen.”
“Well…we like to keep our lives simple, but this building is God’s house, so it’s a bit more elaborate. Our one indulgence.”
Nick stopped at the door and faced his host.
“I hear the Groaners practice polygamy. Do you?”
Wiest smiled. “No.”
Nick nodded. So Maggie, who had offered to be his “second wife”, was definitely a Groaner.
“The men with the armbands, the deacons—what role do they play here?”
“You might equate them to police officers. Deacons have authority to keep the peace when necessary.”
“So all is not perfect in paradise?”
“Everyone is human, Marshal. Even the faithful have their bad days. When we do have problems it usually comes from the younger ones; like young people everywhere, they suffer from growing pains and some of them are rebellious. We deal with it as peacefully and quietly as we can.”
“Do you have a jail?”
“Not in the sense you think of it. We do have a few detention cells, but we don’t incarcerate people. When we say ‘detention’, it literally means that. We detain people temporarily, usually not more than a day or two.”
“So you have some kind of court system?”
“Not really. We don’t sit in judgment of anyone. If someone is unhappy in our community we encourage them to leave. If they want to stay, we look for a common sense solution to whatever is bothering them. We get their families involved and then release them.”
Nick watched the man’s eyes as he talked a
nd saw no signs of deception. Maybe Wiest wasn’t telling him everything, but it wasn’t an investigation, just a point of curiosity. Nick offered his hand again and Wiest shook it.
“If I can ever be of service, Reverend, don’t hesitate to call me. I won’t try to interfere with your beliefs or your way of life. I’m here to keep the peace for everyone, and that includes you and your people.”
“Thank you, Marshal. And if I hear anything on that other matter, I’ll let you know.”
Chapter 9
Trimmer Plain – Alpha Centauri 2
It was early afternoon when Nick headed back in the direction of Trimmer Springs. He checked in with Nelson by radio to confirm that he was still alive and all was well.
“You headed back, then?” Nelson demanded.
“Not just yet. I still have time to visit our friend, the Father.”
“Wish you wouldn’t do that, Nick. Not without backup.”
“Any word from Chief Dwyer?”
“Yeah, just came in. The prints aren’t on file anywhere on the planet.”
“Big surprise. Okay, Luther, thanks.”
Nelson grumbled something that Nick ignored and they both signed off. Nick knew the Homerites occupied the plain to the east of Trimmer Springs; the Groaners were located more to the north, although many of their farms bordered Homerite country and some lived in town. Before he reached the mountain pass leading up to Trimmer Springs he came to an intersection and turned right, heading due north. The Groaners had several villages up this way, though none were marked on the map by name; Father Groening lived in one of them, but he wasn’t sure which.
Skimming along at a leisurely sixty knots, Nick paid attention to the landscape. The farms were very similar to those of the Homerites, and the people he saw were dressed almost identically. The main difference was that some of the men, though not all, wore gunbelts. People who spotted his hovercar glared with undisguised hostility until he was out of sight, and he had no doubt that some kind of warning system would alert Groening that he was on the way.
After twenty minutes he spotted a child walking along the road and throttled back. He set the hovercar down next to her and spun the window open. The little girl looked about eight or nine, with long blond hair and blue eyes. She was barefoot, in a long, loose dress that fell to her ankles; she wore her hair in pigtails. She stared at him without fear, tilting her head in curiosity.