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

by John Bowers

  “The Federation chose to let you slide on that. No charges were ever brought and you were left in power, thanks to your claim of religious immunity. Because of that, no charges can be brought against you now, so there’s no reason not to answer my questions.”

  “It’s better forgotten.”

  “I agree, except for one thing—no one ever found out where you got your weapons or who trained your people. What’s the harm in telling me that?”

  “Why do you want to know? Unless you’re planning to use it against me somehow.”

  “I can’t use it against you. It’s a closed case.”

  “Then you don’t need to know.”

  Nick sipped his coffee again, set the cup down, and leaned forward.

  “The only reason I can think of that you refuse to answer is that you might want to pull the same stunt again in the future.”

  Groening shook his head, pinking with anger. “You just can’t let it go, can you? That’s outrageous!”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes. I have no intention of trying anything like that again. Like I said this morning, the Homers would never let us get away with it.”

  “But if the Homers went along, you might try it?”

  “No. Your Star Marines are too powerful. We can’t compete with their training.”

  Nick was silent a moment. He should have felt some gratification from that statement, but at the moment he didn’t.

  “Let’s assume that I believe you, that I believe you have no desire to resume hostilities. What about your successor?”

  “What?”

  “You won’t live forever. Whoever follows you might decide the Star Marines can be beaten. Whoever succeeds Jeb Wiest might agree, and your people might ally with the Homerites again. Have you considered that?”

  Groening’s eyes took on a confused look.

  “Titus will succeed me,” he said slowly. “Why would he want to resume the war?”

  “To establish the Kingdom of God, the same thing you were trying to do before.”

  “He would never do that. We lost too many people the last time.”

  “Maybe that’s true now, but ten or twenty years from now he might change his mind. Why place temptation in his path? Tell me where the weapons came from.”

  “Titus is no fool. He would never—”

  “Who are you protecting?”

  “What?”

  “You’re determined to keep this information to yourself. Who are you protecting? Was Titus involved in procuring weapons and training? Did he do something illegal that he could still be charged for?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Then tell me where the weapons came from!”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because if you don’t, I can only assume you’re protecting him and I’ll be forced to dig deeper. If he did something illegal I’ll have to arrest him.”

  Groening blinked uncertainly. He sat silently for thirty seconds, then cleared his throat.

  “Alpha Centauri B.”

  Nick felt a jolt of exhilaration. “The BC government?”

  “No. It was…a paramilitary group.”

  “Mercenaries.”

  “I suppose you could say that.”

  “Rukranian mercenaries. Did they have a name?”

  “I suppose they did, but I don’t recall it now.”

  “How did you get in touch with them? They don’t sound like the sort of Godly people you usually hang out with.”

  “I became aware of them through a third party. That’s all I’m willing to say about that.”

  “Fair enough. How did you pay for the weapons?”

  “We didn’t. The agreement was that, if we won, they could have a free hand on this planet. Apparently they have to remain clandestine on Centauri B, and they wanted to find a new home where they could conduct their operations unhindered.”

  Nick stared in amazement. “And you were okay with that? Murderers and thieves and warmongers?”

  “It’s a big planet. Plenty of room for them to live far away from us.”

  Nick shrugged. “So they supplied weapons for your rebellion in return for a new home after you won.”

  “Yes.”

  “But you lost. How did you pay for the weapons?”

  “We didn’t. The agreement was provisional. If we lost, we didn’t owe them anything.”

  “That sounds pretty naïve to me. People like that aren’t usually very forgiving.”

  “What can I tell you? That was the agreement, and for eight years they’ve never bothered us.”

  “Then why didn’t you want me to know about this?”

  “Part of the agreement was that they would remain anonymous.”

  “Which is why you ‘can’t remember’ their name?”

  Groening just shrugged. Nick drained his coffee cup and slid it aside.

  “Tell me about Titus.”

  “I already told you—he had no part in all that.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe he was working a deal of his own.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “I hear he’s rather ambitious.”

  “Nothing wrong with ambition, as long as it’s in the interest of God’s will.”

  “Maybe Titus thought God’s will dictated that he strike a deal of his own.”

  “That makes no sense. He wasn’t even aware of what I was planning until the deal was nearly complete.”

  “What about now?”

  Groening looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re on your way to prison, probably forever. That leaves Titus in control of the cul—of the congregation.”

  The old man’s eyes narrowed. He leaned forward. “What are you trying to say?”

  “Yesterday I found a minefield. I told you about that.”

  “Yes. So?”

  “That minefield was guarding an ammunition bunker. A huge one the size of a warehouse. There must be twenty or thirty million terros worth of stuff there, including 80mm artillery. It’s all brand new, some of it manufactured as recently as last year. Which means it wasn’t left over from the war.”

  Antiochus Groening turned pale. His jaw dropped and his eyes lost their glitter.

  “You’re lying!”

  “I can take you there and show you.”

  “We never used 80mm artillery.”

  “I know. Like I said, the stuff is new. Those field guns look like they’ve never been fired.”

  Groening swallowed involuntarily, his eyes losing their focus.

  “What do you know about this, Father Groening? I believe you when you say you don’t plan to resume hostilities, but someone clearly is gearing up for something. Who do you suppose it might be?”

  Groening didn’t answer right away. He seemed to have trouble breathing. Nick waited him out, letting the old man think things through.

  “A little over a year ago,” the old man said quietly, “we were contacted by that BC group.”

  “The mercenaries?”

  Groening nodded, still staring at the wall. “They offered to resupply us if we wanted to try again. They said they still believed in our cause…”

  “Meaning they still want a piece of this planet.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what they meant. They want us to do their fighting for them. They aren’t powerful enough to take on the Federation themselves, but they were willing to supply us and reap the benefits later, if we were successful.”

  “And you responded how?”

  “I politely thanked them for their offer and declined it.”

  “That was a smart move.”

  Groening’s eyes focused on Nick’s face. “Titus wanted me to take the deal.”

  Chapter 33

  The Kristoferson farm – Alpha Centauri 2

  Suzanne Norgaard lay face down in the dirt, gasping for air. Her eyes were open but she couldn’t move—the pain was incredible. Blood was pumping onto the ground from an exit wound just below her rig
ht breast, her vision was dimming, and every painful breath she drew generated pink bubbles around the wound—the bullet had punctured her lung.

  Ten feet away, Titus Groening was struggling to his feet, gagging from the pain in his groin, blood streaming down his face. Behind Suzanne, Darius limped in her direction, vomit clinging to his chin. His right hand still held the pistol. Long strands of red hair dangled over his eyes, and his face contorted with hatred. Suzanne was hardly aware of him—just trying to breathe consumed all her strength.

  Darius reached her and stopped, swaying drunkenly. He stared down, fighting the waves of nausea that still assailed him.

  “Fucking bitch!” he mumbled. “Fucking pagan whore!”

  He raised the gun again and aimed it at her head. He seemed to have trouble concentrating, and stopped for a moment, shaking his head to clear his vision. He took aim again.

  “Darius!” Titus croaked. “Don’t!”

  “She tried to kill you, Pop. I can’t let her get away with that.”

  Titus was on his knees; he shook his head.

  “We can’t kill her yet. We need her.”

  “What for? She’s nothing but trouble.”

  “If we want to get rid of that marshal, we need the leverage. He’ll back off if we threaten her.”

  Darius laughed contemptuously. “You’re delusional, Pop. He won’t back off, he’ll just come after us harder.”

  “You’re wrong, son. Listen to me! She’s his woman! He’ll do anything to save her. We’ll make him choose—if he wants her back, he has to leave us alone.”

  Darius stared at his father as if he had three heads.

  “Are you serious? That man is like a bulldog. The only way to stop him is to kill him! He’s coming after us whether she lives or dies.”

  Titus had gained his feet and limped forward, desperation in his eyes.

  “You don’t understand how men think. You’ve never been in love.”

  Darius shook his head. “You’re nuts, Pop. You’re absolutely fucking nuts.”

  “Darius! How dare you use language like that!”

  “Look, Pop, she’s dying anyway. It doesn’t matter whether I shoot her or not, she’ll be dead in ten minutes anyway.”

  “Then save your bullet. Give me your gun.” Titus extended his hand.

  But Darius shook his head. “We got lots of bullets. I’d rather put the bitch out of her misery.”

  He took aim at Suzanne’s head.

  Suzanne heard every word. Darius was standing over her, but she couldn’t move to save herself. She closed her eyes and waited for the final explosion that would send her into oblivion. At the last possible second she thought she heard someone running, bare feet on the dusty driveway…very small feet, approaching fast.

  “Parthenaaaa!”

  Darius spun, but too late—Parthena hit him at a dead run. Small as she was, her momentum knocked him off his feet, buckling his knees and turning him end for end. The gun fired reflexively, the bullet streaking into the sky. Darius hit the ground with a curse, on his back, and Parthena pummeled him with her small fists, screaming insanely. Darius drew back his fist and slammed it into her forehead, knocking her far enough away that he could scramble to his feet again.

  Parthena landed in soft sand beside the fence, muddy tears streaking her face. She screamed again as Darius kicked her, then he spun around to find his pistol, which she had knocked loose from his grip. He found it, picked it up, and brushed the sand off; he took aim at the child.

  “You stupid little brat!” he snarled. “I’ll fix you!”

  “Darius!” Titus bellowed.

  But it was too late. The roar of a shotgun blasted the morning stillness and echoed across the farmland. Darius staggered in shock as fourteen heavy pellets ripped into his chest and throat, and once again the pistol tumbled from his fingers. He hit the ground on his back and gurgled helplessly as bright arterial blood pumped from fourteen holes. His body twitched weakly.

  “Darius!” Titus screamed again. He lurched forward, dropping to his knees beside the boy; his hands reached out to help, to stem the bleeding, but there were too many wounds—it was hopeless. He stared in shock, tears streaming down his cheeks.

  Enos Kristoferson reached the scene and bent over Parthena, pulling her upright with one hand, the shotgun still smoking in the other. Parthena sobbed hysterically, throwing her arms around his waist. He held her close and squeezed her, then gently pushed her back behind him.

  “Wait for me in the truck, honey. You’re safe now. Just wait for me.”

  The little girl took a few steps back but went no farther. She was still weeping.

  Enos picked up Darius’ pistol and stuck it in his belt, then gripped the shotgun with both hands. He pumped another shell into the chamber and aimed the gun at Titus.

  “Get off my property,” he said quietly. “If you ever come back again, I’ll blow your head off.”

  Titus stared at him in stunned disbelief. Darius had stopped breathing, his eyes glazed in death. Titus rose slowly to his feet and faced the man who had killed his son.

  “He’s only fourteen,” he said quietly. “You murdered my son! He was only fourteen!”

  “He was going to murder my daughter,” Enos replied. “And she’s only nine! Now get off my land and don’t come back, you son of Eli!”

  “You’re under God’s authority, Enos!”

  “Yes I am, but you’re no man of God. You’ll never be Prophet. After I tell what happened here today, you’ll be disfellowshipped. Now get off my land!”

  Titus stared at him for a long moment, then slowly his face changed from shock to anger.

  “You haven’t heard the end of this! I’ll be back for you, Enos!”

  “And I’ll be waiting. Titus, if you don’t leave this very minute, I’m going to kill you. You’re absolutely insane. Even your son knew that.”

  Titus Groening swelled like a toad, his breath coming noisily.

  “And what about Darius? Are you just going to leave him there in the dirt?”

  “I’ll take care of him, but not until you leave.” Enos gestured with the shotgun. “Go, Titus. Now.”

  With a final huff, the heir apparent to the Congregation of God turned and stalked toward his car. Enos kept the shotgun trained on him until he drove away, then turned and knelt over Suzanne. Parthena knelt beside him.

  Suzanne was unconscious.

  Trimmer Springs – Alpha Centauri 2

  “Is Titus in a hurry to replace you?” Nick didn’t want to press too hard, but this was the first time Father Groening had been anything close to cooperative and he didn’t want to waste the opportunity.

  Groening took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “Titus is next in line,” he said quietly. “I succeeded my father, he succeeded his father, and Titus will succeed me.”

  “Is he in a hurry?” Nick repeated.

  “I never used to think so, but…”

  Nick leaned forward intently. “But what?”

  “Sunday night, after the incident at the quarry, he brought it up.”

  Nick bit back a question—better to let the old man tell it on his own. Groening was staring at the wall again.

  “He said people would believe Drusilla’s story about our youthful indiscretions, that people would lose respect for me. He…suggested…”

  “That you step down?”

  Groening nodded, and the sadness in his eyes almost made Nick feel sorry for him.

  “What else did he say?”

  Groening didn’t answer right away. Finally he frowned, pulled his gaze back to Nick’s face, and grimaced.

  “He said he had a plan.”

  Nick waited, but that was all. The old man fell silent.

  “What kind of plan? Did he elaborate?”

  “No. But now you’re telling me you found weapons, and I’m wondering if he was already putting some kind of plan into action.”

  “Could that plan include ki
dnapping?”

  Groening frowned. “Kidnapping?”

  “Suzanne Norgaard. She’s been abducted.”

  “I don’t see how that would benefit Titus in any way. Not if he wants to start the war up again.”

  A knock came at the door, then it swung open. Carrie King leaned inside.

  “Marshal Walker? You have a call.”

  Nick sat there a moment, cursing his luck. He was finally getting somewhere with the prisoner and now an interruption.

  But it might be important. He shoved his chair back and followed King out of the interrogation room.

  “Who is it?”

  “Jeb Wiest.”

  Nick took the call in the main squad room of the police station. It was a standard comm call with video. Jeb Wiest appeared to be sitting at the desk in his office at the Homerite tabernacle in Petra. He had the same bemused expression Nick remembered from their meeting a few days earlier. After dealing with the Groenings, Wiest seemed almost like an old friend.

  “Reverend Wiest. What can I do for you?”

  “Nothing, actually, but I might be able to do something for you.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “You remember that I told you my sister married one of the Groaners?’

  “I do.”

  “Well, I got a call from her a few minutes ago. It seems she has some information about a kidnapping.”

  Nick bolted forward in his chair, his heart pounding.

  “I’m all ears, Reverend.”

  “My sister doesn’t know the victim’s name, but she claims her husband was involved with stealing a woman yesterday. Do you know anything about that?”

  “Yes, I do. I want very much to locate that woman. Does your sister know where she was taken?”

  “She said you should look on the Kristoferson farm. I don’t know exactly where that is, but I’m sure you can find it. My sister said the woman will be moved tonight, so you need to get out there right away.”

  Excitement coursed through Nick’s veins. He felt a definite surge of relief, yet the anxiety remained—he had a starting point, but he didn’t have Suzanne yet.

  “Is there anything else?”

  “No, I think that was it. I hope it helps.”

  Nick nodded. “It helps a lot. Just one more thing…who is your sister’s husband?”

  Wiest gazed at him for a heartbeat, then shook his head. “She didn’t want me to tell you that.”