Rebel Guns of Alpha Centauri (Nick Walker, U.F. Marshal Book 3)

by John Bowers

“Orders from Titus,” she clarified. “Most of the men will do things that violate their conscience if a church leader demands it. We are taught absolute obedience to church government.”

  Church government. There was that phrase again.

  “God forgive me,” Drusilla continued, “because I shouldn’t say this, but…I’ve known Titus since he was born, and I always thought he was a little crazy.”

  “Crazy? In what way?” Nick’s scalp tingled.

  Drusilla frowned as she searched for the right word.

  “Illogical,” Dorcas said. “As a boy he was always coming up with grand schemes for one thing or another, but he was never able to think things through.”

  “Exactly!” Drusilla agreed. “He looks normal and talks normal, but he’s slightly unhinged. Antiochus keeps him in line, so he’s never done anything serious, but I dread to think what will happen to the congregation when he becomes Prophet.”

  Nick nodded thoughtfully.

  “That doesn’t mean Titus is responsible for this,” Drusilla added, “but if it was anyone from the congregation he would be the most likely.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate the information. If you hear anything, no matter how minor, will you please get in touch with me or my office?”

  “Of course we will.” Drusilla stood and the others followed suit. “We’re going home right now to pray for poor Suzanne. When you find her, please give her our love.”

  Nick showed them out and stood watching numbly as they walked away. He shook his head in absolute disbelief…five days ago he would never have dreamed the old lady would ever say a kind word to Suzanne. Now she was going to pray for her safety. It just went to prove that you could never pigeonhole people—good ones could be found in every situation.

  And so could bad ones.

  Nick fixed his sandwich and headed back to the office, eating it on the way. He had to clear his head and concentrate—several things had come up all at once, and he needed to prioritize them.

  Nelson was out when Nick arrived, so he sat down at his terminal and began making a list:

  Nicodemus and Antiochus were in custody; Nicodemus was open and shut, but he needed to investigate the cult leader a little deeper, specifically in relation to past stonings that might result in murder charges.

  He had found an underground armory loaded with enough military supplies to kick-start a new rebellion, and needed to do something about that rather quickly.

  Suzanne was missing, presumably kidnapped, and her safe recovery was of the highest priority.

  Antiochus Groening had been his prime suspect, but based on what the Downing women had told him, maybe he should shift his focus toward Titus instead. But he needed to talk to the old man first.

  The Kristoferson Farm – Alpha Centauri 2

  Suzanne was going stir crazy. It must be midday or later, she reckoned, based on her hunger and the shifting patterns of light through the narrow cracks between the boards. She prayed to Sophia for a solution to her dilemma, but realized she was pretty much on her own. It was unlikely Nick would know where to look for her, even if he realized she hadn’t disappeared voluntarily, so her fate was in her own hands.

  She stood abruptly when she heard the rattle of the lock. It was probably Enos bringing her a late lunch, but even so, this might be her only chance to get away. Unfortunately she had nothing to use as a weapon, so she would have to be alert for an opportunity. She squinted and blinked as the door swung open.

  Enos stood there, but he hadn’t brought any food. To Suzanne’s surprise, Parthena was with him.

  “Come outside, Miss,” Enos said, slightly agitated. “This has been a big mistake.”

  “Mistake? What do you mean?”

  He motioned with his hand, and she stepped out of her cell, breathing the comparatively fresh air of horse and cow manure.

  “I never wanted no part of this,” he said, “and I ain’t gonna be a part of it no more.”

  Suzanne felt a burst of hope, but checked herself—what exactly was he planning to do?

  Then she saw the little girl was smiling.

  “My papa is going to take you back to town!” Parthena bubbled.

  Suzanne dared to smile. “Really?”

  “That’s right, Miss. But we got to hurry. They’ll be coming for you tonight, so we need to get you out of here now. I don’t want you anywhere on my farm when they get here.”

  He led Suzanne out of the barn toward a battered farm truck parked nearby.

  “What will they do when they don’t find me?” she asked. “Will you be in trouble?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle. I put it in the Lord’s hands.”

  Suzanne could hardly believe this turn of events. She felt like screaming and laughing at the same time. She laid her hand on Parthena’s head—the child was skipping happily at her side.

  They reached the truck, a dusty farm pickup with a gun rack in the back window. Enos held the door for Suzanne and Parthena crawled in beside her. He got behind the yoke and fired the engine.

  “I’m powerful sorry about all this, Miss,” he said quietly, avoiding her eyes. The truck wheezed and coughed and lurched ahead, bumping down the long dirt drive toward the road. “They sprung it on me without telling me, and I didn’t know what to do. I usually just do what I’m told, and so that’s what I did this time, but…”

  “What changed your mind?”

  Enos glanced at his daughter. “She did. Sometimes a little child shows more wisdom than a hundred grown men.”

  The truck was twenty yards from the road when another vehicle came into view on the right. Suzanne’s heart stopped as it turned into the driveway. Enos was forced to stop.

  “Oh, Lord!” he breathed. “It’s Titus and Darius!”

  “Who are they?” Suzanne thought the names sounded familiar—she’d probably heard Nick mention them.

  “Darius is one of those who caught you. Titus ordered it.”

  Enos stared through the windscreen as the two men in the other car slowly got out. Suzanne saw that both men were wearing gunbelts. They approached the truck on either side, their eyes fixed on Suzanne.

  “Going somewhere, Enos?” the bigger man growled, venom in his eyes.

  “I’m taking her back, Titus,” Enos said, his voice louder than Suzanne had ever heard it. “This is wickedness, and I’ll have no part of it.”

  “You are under authority, Enos! You were given an order by Almighty Gawd!”

  “God had nothing to do with it. You gave the order, and you had no right to do so. You are not the Prophet!”

  “MY FATHER IS THE PROPHET! And I will be Prophet after him. There is a clear line of succession, and you know that!”

  “Yes, I do know that, but you haven’t been ordained yet. God willing, you never will be.”

  The big man’s face flushed red and he jerked the driver’s door open. Enos struggled briefly but the big man slugged him in the face and dragged him out onto the dirt. Parthena screamed.

  “Leave my papa alone!”

  Before Suzanne could react, or even form a plan, her own door was jerked open and the red-haired boy had her by the arm. He hauled her out of the vehicle, smirking, and pushed her against the side of the truck. Reacting instinctively, Suzanne brought her knee up in a swift motion that caught him in the crotch. His mouth flew open, his eyes sprang wide, and he gagged. He stumbled back, bent over, and grabbed himself with both hands. Suzanne spun and grabbed Parthena off the truck seat.

  “Let’s go!” she whispered hoarsely, and bolted toward the road. Actually she had no idea which way to go—there was no cover, nothing to hide behind. A fence flanked the driveway and open fields lay on either side. A thin row of willowy trees lined the road and beyond that was a pasture, but at least it offered a slim chance.

  They barely made it to the end of the driveway when a pistol bullet struck the ground a few yards to their left.

  “Stop!” Titus Groening bellowed. “Stop or the next one won’
t miss.”

  Shaking with fear and indecision, Suzanne halted. Had she been alone she might have taken the risk, but not with the child at her side. She turned slowly to face her antagonist. He stalked quickly forward, his face seething with rage.

  “Parthena, run back home,” he told the girl. “Leave this harlot to me. Go on, now—git!”

  Sobbing, Parthena looked up at Suzanne, tears streaming down her face.

  “It’s okay,” Suzanne soothed, hugging the girl close. “It’ll be all right. You go take care of your papa.”

  Reluctantly, Parthena did as she was told. Giving Suzanne a last, desperate hug, she ran toward her fallen father, who was just starting to pick himself up. Suzanne watched her until Titus Groening, his gun still drawn, grabbed her arm.

  “The Bible has punishments for whores!” he growled as he pushed her toward his car. “You best do as you’re told or I may need to apply one of them.”

  Suzanne halted abruptly and spun to face him, her eyes filled with rage.

  “I’m not a whore!” she shouted. “Just because I don’t choose to drape myself like a goddess-scorn mummy doesn’t make me one.”

  Groening’s face purpled even more.

  “Shut your filthy mouth, you pagan slut! How dare you invoke your idol in my presence!”

  Suzanne’s rage flashed. Without a second thought—or even a first—her right fist slammed into his face with every ounce of her energy, smashing his nose flat. Blood spurted in every direction, and Groening staggered in shock. It was the last thing he had expected, from any woman on the planet; the shock was so great that he dropped his pistol and took a step back. Blood streamed down the front of his shirt, and for just a moment he could hardly breathe.

  Suzanne was almost as stunned as Groening. She had never planned to fight back, but his arrogance and crass insensitivity had just been too much. Now, realizing he was off balance, she pressed her advantage, driving her knee into his groin and clawing at his eyes. Titus Groening squealed in terror, stumbling backward to escape her sharp nails, and Suzanne realized with sudden clarity that she might actually free herself once and for all.

  As Titus lost his balance and fell, his eyes filled with horror, Suzanne drove her heel into his cheekbone, stomping down once, twice, three times…all she needed to do was disable him, then she could escape. Hope surged through her chest, and when he scrabbled frantically backwards to avoid her murderous assault, she spun around and looked for his weapon.

  There! Six feet away, lying in the dust. She reached down and picked it up, then turned back to see if he was still down or needed a little more persuasion. He stared at her in horror, fear gleaming in his eyes. Suzanne raised the weapon and pointed it at him.

  “I’m going to leave now,” she said in a calm, steady voice. “If you try to follow me, I will shoot. So I suggest you don’t do anything st—”

  She never finished. Thirty yards behind her, Darius had stopped retching on the ground and raised his head in time to see her aiming a gun at his father. Reeling with nausea that still surged out of his groin, he managed to pull his own pistol and take aim.

  He shot Suzanne in the back.

  Chapter 32

  Trimmer Springs – Alpha Centauri 2

  Nick Walker sat in the interrogation room at the police station and gazed across the table at Antiochus Groening, who glared sullenly back. Father Groening no longer looked so powerful or imposing—he was just a tired old man whose string had run out, but Nick was certain he held some of the answers. The problem was that his arrogance hadn’t slipped an inch, and getting those answers could be a challenge.

  “How are you and Nicodemus getting along?” Nick asked casually, slowly spinning a cup of coffee with his fingertips. Groening glared at him, but didn’t answer. Nick gave him a few seconds, then continued.

  “Nicodemus is probably going to spend the rest of his life in prison. He murdered two people in cold blood. It’s really tragic to see someone so young throw away his entire life.”

  “Your fault,” the old preacher grumbled. “You murdered his father.”

  Nick shrugged. “That’s one version. The other version is that you started a war that got his father killed. If it weren’t for you, his father would never have been in that situation, and I would never have been in that bell tower.”

  “It’s a sign of the times. Wars and rumors of wars. We were fighting Federation oppression. All we wanted was our freedom.”

  “You had your freedom. You still do…or at least you did, until you broke the law.”

  “We obey the laws of God, not men.”

  “It was God’s law that caused Nicodemus to gun down my deputy?”

  Groening cleared his throat with a rumble. “I didn’t say that. I said that was your fault. He was trying to kill you, not your deputy.”

  “Granted. But what about Patsy Morehead? She never did anything wrong, yet Nicodemus killed her.

  “She was an evil influence on a child of God.”

  Nick lifted his eyebrows. “You approve of her death?”

  “I neither approve nor disapprove. I do understand the boy’s motive.”

  Nick leaned forward. “I submit that you are responsible for her murder! All your hellfire and fundamentalist preaching is directly responsible for what happened to her. If your teaching hadn’t poisoned the boy’s mind he might have asked her out on a date instead of shooting her.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  “Is it? You’re the spiritual leader, aren’t you? You’re the one who instilled hatred in the boy’s mind, based on a phony morality that’s five or six thousand years out of date. What kind of modern boy murders a young girl simply because she acts and dresses normally for someone her age?”

  “The girl was a harlot! She was leading Magdalene into sin.”

  Nick hammered the table with his hand. “How do you know? Did you follow her around? Did you know anything about her? Did you even know who she was before she was murdered?”

  Groening was unmoved. “She was typical of her generation. A generation of vipers. This was all prophesied.”

  Nick leaned back in his chair, his eyes blazing. He pointed a finger at Groening’s face.

  “You’re the one who caused her death. Nicodemus pulled the trigger, but you instilled the hatred. He isn’t a bad kid. All by himself, I don’t think he would hurt anyone. He isn’t the criminal type. But your influence caused him to murder two people, and in the process forfeit his entire future. I think that might be worth an extra twenty years at your sentencing.”

  Groening’s glare never diminished. “Too bad he missed you,” he said.

  Nick laughed. “He didn’t miss me. He hit me squarely in the back. Whatever else he is, Nicodemus is an incredible shot. The only reason I’m here is because of Federation body armor.”

  “Pity.”

  “Your attitude is amazing. All my life I’ve heard people say that God is love, but your version of Him is absolutely despicable.”

  “God is love! God is the very definition of love, but it’s a tough love. He demands absolute obedience, and those who refuse to obey are better off dead.”

  Nick laughed incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding. Standing Maggie Downing in the bottom of the quarry and stoning her was God’s love?”

  “Yes! Love toward the congregation, to teach them the consequences of sin!”

  “Oh, I get it—love for everyone except Maggie.”

  “Love for Maggie, too. If she was allowed to continue in sin, her life would be miserable. Better to cut that short so her soul could be saved.”

  Nick shook his head in wonder. “Pay now, live later? What if you’re wrong? What if there is no afterlife?”

  “That’s blasphemy!”

  “Is it? What proof do you have? Has anyone ever come back to describe what life is like after death? Do you get postcards?”

  Groening sniffed. “Mock me all you want. God will see that you get yours.”


  Nick tilted his head. “Funny…your people have tried three times to get me—twice by Nicodemus and once by your entire army. I’m still here, so maybe you should be asking yourself what God’s will really is. Maybe it isn’t His will that you’re pursuing, but your own.”

  “Now you’re an expert on God?”

  “Nope. I just ask questions. I try to apply logic whenever I can. You might want to try it sometime.”

  “Are we done here?”

  “We haven’t even started yet.” Nick sipped his coffee. “I’ve been told there were other stonings, years ago. How many were there?”

  “Why are you asking about those? What do they have to do with anything?”

  Nick’s eyes narrowed. “There is no statute of limitations on murder. If you had other people stoned, I can charge you with that.”

  Groening’s eyes widened. “And you’re asking me to incriminate myself? Don’t I have the right to remain silent?”

  “Yes, you do, but I don’t think you’re capable of remaining silent. You haven’t been silent five seconds since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

  “What happened in the past is in the past. I have no intention of talking about it.”

  “So there were other stonings. How many people did you murder?”

  “No one was murdered! God’s law was applied, as laid out in the scripture. You might want to read the Word of God sometime, Marshal—it might do you some good.”

  “Oh, I’ve read it, cover to cover. But the Word of God is not Federation law, and much of what it teaches is actually prohibited by Federation law…such as bashing out the brains of innocent young girls with large rocks.”

  “If the law of God was applied universally, the galaxy would be a much better place.”

  Nick smiled. “Better for whom? Maggie Downing? Patsy Morehead? Hugh Povar?”

  Groening crossed his arms and gazed at the overhead lights. Nick shifted gears.

  “Let’s talk about the war.”

  Groening’s eyes jerked back to his face. “What about it? We fought it, we lost. End of story.”

  “Not really. Where did you get your weapons?”

  “Why is that important? It’s over. You won.”