by John Bowers
With the stage set, the pump primed, and the jury suitably biased, he finally got around to “Amen!”—which he pronounced “A Man!”
The prayer lasted fifteen minutes. The meeting lasted less than ten. Groening presented the facts as he wanted them understood, and the five council members mumbled and muttered unhappily as they considered them. A young girl was out of control, on the verge of shaming herself, her family, and the Congregation of God. She had been warned, she had been threatened, she had been punished, her mother had been warned and threatened and punished, but it made no difference. Clearly the child was in the grip of the devil and, if that were truly the case, she was incorrigible.
If she was incorrigible, there was only one thing to do.
But…it was up to the men of the Council, the men ordained of God. They should not take Father Groening’s word for it, but rather look inside themselves, reflect upon Holy Scripture, and seek guidance from God. Their judgment must be fair and merciful, taking into account, of course, the damage this child could do if she were allowed to pursue her sinful life and other children came to the conclusion that such behavior carried no consequences. Regrettable as it was, sometimes an example had to be set, a stake driven into the ground, the line held. For the physical and spiritual health of the congregation as a whole, once in a while a sinner had to be sacrificed.
But…of course it was the Council’s decision, not Groening’s, and he would not attempt to sway them one way or another, even though he loved the child in question as if she were his own daughter, and had wept tears of blood long into the night for months, beseeching God to open her mind and persuade her to change her evil ways. She was a beautiful girl, young and lively, filled with ambition, and that was her curse. Were she to marry one of the young men in the congregation she might sway him toward sin as well, and perhaps even their children, and the cancer might grow until it swept through the entire settlement and God would be forced to send plagues upon them, as He had the ancients when they strayed from The Truth. The girl had been counseled to marry an older man, as fourth wife, but had flatly refused, and such rebellion was unheard of in a righteous community.
But…it was up to the Council. Groening had his own opinion but would not taint their decision by telling them what it was. It was their decision, and theirs alone. He had no part in it. He would abide by their judgment, even if it meant allowing the cancer to spread…
The council members looked inside themselves, searched their consciences, reflected upon scripture, and beseeched God for guidance—and in a public vote, eight minutes after the end of the prayer, voted unanimously that Maggie Downing, age sixteen, was incorrigible. It broke their hearts to do it, as evidenced by the sad looks on their faces, but they really had no choice. They could not allow a cancer to spread among the flock, and the girl had to go. Maggie never made an appearance, never presented a defense, and had no one to advocate for her…but it made no difference. Judgment was passed, and no authority in heaven or Alpha Centauri could reverse it. God had spoken, and there was no appeal.
* * *
Nicodemus Downing paced the parking lot beside the church, rubbing his hands together, tormented with fear. Grandmother Dru still sat in the car, the windows down, fanning herself as she prayed silently, eyes closed. They had arrived too late—the Council had already convened. Nicodemus didn’t know where Maggie was but she was probably in the basement with the Council, hopefully convincing them that she wasn’t an evil person, that she was merely confused, that she needed a little time to sort things out. Nicodemus had wanted to say those things himself, to appeal for mercy, but once the door was closed no one was allowed inside.
He stared at the sky as he patrolled the parking lot, tears in his eyes. Sure, Maggie had her problems, but she was young, only sixteen, and could hardly be expected to act like a mature woman at that age. In any case, it wasn’t her fault. Her problems had started the day her father died, and that had been the fault of that blasted marshal, that murdering Star Marine, the man in the bell tower eight years ago. That butcher had killed not only Maggie’s father, but Nicodemus’ father as well. They both owed that man a debt of blood. Surely the council could understand that, but he had to tell them, make them understand.
Unfortunately, they would probably be in there for hours…
Nicodemus was startled when he heard the church door open behind him. He spun around and saw Father Groening coming out, looking solemn, with five equally stony-faced men behind him. Nicodemus rushed up to him.
“Father!” he gasped breathlessly, “thank God! Before you pass judgment there’s something I need to tell you!”
But Father stood stock still and gazed down at him with the eyes of a stone statue.
“Judgment has already been passed, Nicodemus. The Council has voted.”
Nicodemus stared at him in disbelief.
“But…you haven’t even been in there a half hour!”
“The evidence was clear. There was no point in prolonging it.”
“What…what did they decide?” Nicodemus felt blood draining out of his face.
“The decision will be announced tomorrow morning at Sunday services, to the entire congregation.”
Father turned toward his house and started to walk away.
“Where’s Maggie now?”
Father stopped and turned back, his expression severe.
“Maggie will remain in custody until the announcement is made. Just put her out of your mind, Nicodemus. Concentrate on finding out who is trying to kill that marshal. Have you made any progress on that?”
“Uh…no.” He took a step forward. “Father!”
But the old man turned again and walked away. Nicodemus stared after him, the wind riffling his long brown hair. Tears streamed silently down his cheeks. Behind him, he heard Drusilla sobbing in the car.
Trimmer Springs – Alpha Centauri 2
Nick’s back was aching as he and Carrie King arrived at the hospital. The spot between his shoulder blades was sore to the touch, but that wasn’t the real problem—the body vest had dissipated the bullet’s energy all across his back, up and down his spine, and he felt stiff. The day’s activity, light as it was, and the emotional stress of dealing with the Groaners, had left him feeling wasted. He probably needed a few extra hours of sleep to allow his body to recover, and if everything was okay at the hospital, he might head on home early. Give Suzanne a chance to work her magic on him.
The Hawkins boy’s parents were in the waiting room at the hospital, looking awkward and out of place. Thomas Hawkins and his wife, who had reported the situation to Dr. Baudino, had joined them, and all four sat looking miserable and alone as Nick and King entered the room.
“Is there any news?” Nick asked gently as Nathan Hawkins got to his feet.
“I think he’s in…surgery. Is that what they call it?”
Nick nodded. “From the look of that leg, I suspect he’ll be in there quite a while. Did the doctor talk to you?”
“Yes. He said…”
“What? What did he say?”
“He said we…shouldn’t have waited so long.” Hawkins bit his lip. “I hope we’re doing the right thing, Marshal. This is so alien to our way of life.” He glanced around at the antiseptic white room with dread in his eyes.
“Mr. Hawkins, if it saves your son’s life, it’s the right thing. Trust me.”
The man gazed into Nick’s eyes, looking hopeful but unconvinced.
“I want to believe that. I really do. But Elder Billings—”
“Is not the boy’s father!” Nick said firmly. “If it was his son in there, I think he might take a different view.”
“I-I’m not so sure.”
Nick squeezed his arm. “Keep praying,” he said. “I’ve heard that sometimes God works in ways that we don’t expect. Pray that He will guide the doctor’s hand.”
Hawkins blinked in surprise, as if the thought were completely alien, but nodded. Nick turned to Carrie King
.
“I’m about all in for today. I’m heading home. If you hear of any updates, give me a call, okay?”
“Sure, Marshal. I’ll hang around here for awhile.”
Nick nodded and thanked her, then turned for the exit. The ache in his back was getting worse—he could hardly wait to get home.
Back at the bungalow, Nick stretched out flat on the floor, staring at the ceiling. The hard surface felt wonderful and he rotated a bit to relieve the pressure on his spine. After a few minutes the ache began to subside.
“You’re home early,” Suzanne said as she brought him a cold beer. “Got the whole town cleaned up already?”
Nick took the beer and held it, unwilling to sit up to take a swallow.
“Absolutely. Doesn’t take me long to clean up a town.”
“Well, I’m impressed. It took you a whole week to clean up Kline Corners.”
“That was your fault.”
“My fault? How as it my fault?”
Nick grinned. “You were obstructing me. For the first three days I couldn’t get a straight answer out of you.”
“Oh, scorn, that’s not true! I was just being cautious.”
“Cautious with a U.F. Marshal? What did you have to hide?”
“I didn’t have anything to hide. I took off my clothes for you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but it took you forever to get around to it.”
Suzanne leaned over and pretended to slap him. “I had to make sure you deserved it. I don’t roll over for just anybody, you know.”
With a groan, Nick sat up and took a swallow of beer. It was slushy cold and burned going down. He sighed in contentment.
“Do I still deserve it?” he asked innocently.
“Do you still deserve what?”
He set the beer on the coffee table and lunged toward her, wrapping his arms around her legs. She toppled toward him and squealed as she fell, but he caught her and landed on the floor again with her on top.
“This,” he said, and kissed her, holding her head with both hands.
“Mm,” she murmured a moment later. “I’m not sure.”
She adjusted herself, her knees on the floor on each side of him, and bent over him. “Let’s try that again.”
She kissed him hard. He wrapped his arms around her neck, exposing his ribs, and she dug into them with her long fingers, tickling him ruthlessly. He jerked in shock and tried to break free, but she pinned him with her chest and held him, still kissing him. He struggled to break the kiss, grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back. Suzanne giggled insanely and continued to rake his sides with her fingers until he managed to unseat her, rolled her over, and pinned her arms. She laughed until she was out of breath while he sucked at her throat, her ears, and finally her mouth.
“You’re gonna get it now,” he said. “You’re in a world of hurt now.”
“Yeah? Who’s gonna give it to me. You?” She was red-faced from laughing.
“Damn right. You’ve been asking for it all day.”
“How do you know? You haven’t seen me all day.”
“I saw you this morning and you were begging for it then. Now you’re gonna get it.”
She caught her breath and let it out in a sigh. She gazed up at him, eyes sparkling.
“Promises, promises! All I get are promises.”
Nick’s porta-phone rang.
It was Carrie King.
The Hawkins boy had died.
Chapter 20
Sunday, January 16, 0444 (CC) – Millennium Village, Alpha Centauri 2
Nick had planned to see Father Groening first thing Sunday morning; this time he would demand to see the man come hell or high altitude. Then he remembered that it was Sunday morning, and Sunday morning meant church services. The odds against making headway with the cult leader were high enough already, without stacking them higher by showing up during Sunday services.
So he relaxed a little and took time to plan his day. If he got permission to talk to the Pickard boys, and if they showed him where the landmine had exploded, he would need detection equipment and some means of marking the minefield until he could call the military in to clean it up. Because Trimmer Springs had been a battlefield eight years earlier, both the marshal’s office and the police department had metal detection equipment, and Chief Dwyer even had a device that could disarm mines electronically. Nick asked to borrow it and loaded his car with as much equipment as he could think of that he might need.
Officer Carrie King stood watching him.
“Are you planning on following me around again today?” Nick asked her.
“Yep.”
“Even though it’s Sunday?”
“Yep.”
“Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“Nope.”
“No attempts on my life yesterday.”
“Nope.”
“Nobody even slapped my face.”
She laughed. “Is that unusual?”
Nick nodded ruefully. “Lately, yeah. Don’t you ever get a day off?”
“Now and then.”
He closed the hatch on the hovercar. “I really don’t need you, you know. I’ve faced bigger odds than this before.”
She shrugged. “Not my call to make, Marshal. I have my orders.”
He stared at her a moment, feeling more than a little foolish. He’d survived the war, he’d survived Ceres, he’d survived Sirius 1—in every one of those situations people had tried to kill him, yet he was still standing. And now he had a girl for a bodyguard.
“I’m a grown-ass man, you know.”
“I know you are. And I am a grown-ass woman.”
Nick laughed and tilted his hat forward to shade his eyes.
“All right, Officer King—get in the damn car.”
She gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir!”
“You’re still deputized, you know.”
“Good. I’d hate to have to take that long-winded oath again.”
“And if you have to shoot anybody, try not to kill them. They hate us enough already.”
It was a little after eleven when they headed out of town. Millennium Village was only a few minutes away by hovercar, but if Nick took his time he should arrive shortly before church services let out. He wanted to be there when Father Groening exited the church building, rather than have to hunt him down later.
In spite of his levity with King, deep down inside Nick was angry. It was a cold anger, one that would only fade over time. The Hawkins boy was dead. Prompt medical attention could have saved him. He probably would have lost the leg, but recent advances in bioregeneration could have replaced it in a matter of months. The boy’s death had been completely unnecessary, and was due solely to ignorance, superstition, and pig-headedness. That was the source of Nick’s deep-down rage.
Somebody was going to pay, Nick was certain of that. And nobody was going to stop him from finding the rest of those landmines. Anyone who tried was likely to have his skull cracked by the barrel of Nick’s .44, and damn the consequences.
As he cleared the east end of town, he took a deep breath and forced his mind to other things. No need to get overheated or ahead of the program—he would take things one step at a time.
Millennium Village – Alpha Centauri 2
The little village church seated a hundred eighty people, but this morning the congregation numbered nearly twice that—people were standing in the aisles and along the walls. Word had leaked that a girl had been condemned by the Council of Elders and everyone in the immediate vicinity wanted a front-row seat for the proceedings. Such things only happened once or twice in a generation, and made great gossip for years afterward. The pews were crowded—overcrowded, actually—and people were standing along the walls. Several dozen more crowded the doorway on the outside, straining to hear through the open church door.
After the song service—two boring hymns without instrumental accompaniment—Antiochus Groening rose heavily from his seat and made h
is way slowly to the pulpit, the weight of the universe resting quite visibly on his shoulders. In spite of a cool morning outside, the room was humid from the exhalation of so many people, and women fanned themselves while the men simply sat and sweated in their heavy black Sunday coats. Air conditioning was the devil’s device and not to be tolerated.
Father Groening peered out over his congregation with somber eyes, distress evident in every line of his aging face. He cleared his throat and began to speak.
“From time to time,” he began in a stentorian tone, “the burden of being a shepherd becomes a heavy one. From time to time a shepherd must perform tasks that try the soul.”
His eyes moved slowly over the crowd, making eye contact with many, especially the younger people, the teenagers.
“We have a wonderful opportunity in this land. God has seen fit to move us here where we can worship safely, free from the satanic influences of Terra, free from the bondage of sin. We have made a wonderful life here, and it is a good life. We are blessed above all people of all worlds, and that blessing comes as the result of obedience!
“I speak of obedience to God’s law, recognition of God’s glory, acceptance of God’s plan. Of all the billions in the universe, the Almighty has chosen us as His true followers, has offered us the opportunity to live as an example, a shining light, a glittering city on a hill. We are to be the light of the universe, the brightest star in the galaxy. When the Day of Final Judgment comes upon the universe, and all men are called to account, no one will be able to say, ‘It was too hard, Lord,’ or ‘I couldn’t do it, Lord,’ or ‘You ask too much, Lord!’ No one can say that, because if they do, then God will point to us as examples, and He will say, ‘What do you mean it was too hard! THEY did it! Look at THEM—THEY obeyed my voice! THEY kept my laws! YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE!’”
Groening swept the crowd with burning eyes, his jowls quivering with emotion. The room was absolutely silent; even the fans had stopped moving.
“Yes, the Almighty has given us a good life here, an opportunity to separate ourselves from the sin of Satan’s world. Here we live in peace. Here we thrive. Here we enjoy the good life! And we obey our Heavenly Father, because we know He loves us, and we love Him!