Edward Llewellyn - Prelude to Chaos

“They won’t be able to force us to tell them. Because we won’t know.”

“Christ—that’s even worse! It’s bad enough being interrogated when you know what they’re trying to get out of you. It’s pure hell when you’re a loser—when you don’t know but they think you do! They’ll work you over in ways that went out with the Inquisition—updated for greater effect!”

“If that is the Light’s wish—then so be it.”

Another martyr in the making! I walked away, cursing his foolishness and wondering how many martyrs had changed their minds after they discovered what martyrdom was really like. Changed their minds too late! I went to Judith, who might have a martyr complex but also had a strong survival drive. All she would tell me was that she planned to leave with the women and children. She wouldn’t tell me where. Even Judith, my wife, did not trust me. And she was right not to.

The Feds arrived on a Sunday morning when the whole adult population of the Settlement was worshipping together. Everybody except the single unbeliever—me. I had watched the kids, the women and children, disappearing into the woods the moment the radar aboard the Ranula had picked up the approaching choppers. A well-planned exodus that would result in tragedy for everybody still in the village. If I had had any sense I would have gone with Judith, but some obscure bond held me in the Settlement so long as Yackle waited there to be picked up. But I stayed well hidden.

The Feds came in three gunships and one large transport. The moment the squads jumped from their ships and ran to take up positions around the Council Hall I knew that was no collection of Federal Marshals; these were men from the Special Strike Force in the uniforms of Federal Marshals. They were commanded by a tall Captain, who must have been well briefed about Believer customs, for he put a cordon around the hall and sent patrols to search the empty houses and the Ranula, now lying deserted alongside the wharf.

When a patrol had checked my workshop I came out of hiding and slipped between the buildings until I was as close to the Captain as I dared. He evidently knew that one strict rule of life in a Settlement was that all Believers not too sick to get out of bed must attend the Sunday service. He was sure that the whole population was inside the Hall. When Chairman Yackle led his flock out of the main entrance he stepped forward and said, politely enough, “Mister Yackle? Then you are under arrest for offenses against the Social Stability Act. As are all your colleagues on Council.”

“Captain! I must protest! This is both illegal and immoral. We are peaceful citizens of the United States who have never caused any trouble to our neighbors or threatened social stability in any way.”

“Sorry, sir. That’s not my concern. You will be given a fair trial. I also have orders to take into protective custody a number of minors and material witnesses.” He looked at the crowd. “Is everybody here?”

“Everybody who is in the Settlement at present, Captain.” “Where are all the children? And the—the others?” He could not bring himself to say “girls.” He didn’t like this job, but he was doing it.

“Perhaps I can help you.” Barbara wormed her way from the crowd, she had been hiding God knows where, and now emerged to stand facing the officer. I cursed her for showing herself, then stiffened as I heard her voice on the com. If I could hear, so could her squad. Nobody in the crowd could for she was speaking softly and Yackle had moved away to comfort his congregation.

“Where are the other youngsters?” The Captain was looking down at Barbaxa and now, faced with the fact that he was about to seize a number like her, take them away for a fate he was keeping out of his mind, his expression showed that he was disliking his job more and more. But he continued to perform it.

“Before I tell you, Captain, will you promise not to hit me? Not to shout at me or anything?”

“Hit you? Of course I won’t hit you. You don’t want the others to hear what you’re going to tell me? Is that it?” “Please sir!”

The Captain nodded and bent so she could whisper in his ear. He heard. I heard. Barbara’s squad heard. Her words were clear. “You had better tell your men to stand fast. And you had better stand fast yourself.”

“And why should I do that, Miss?”

“Because if you look very slowly up the hillside, toward that pile of rocks halfway up the cliff behind me, you will see a young man with a rifle. He is well camouflaged so he is not easy to pick out except by a well-trained soldier’s eye—such as yours!” She moved backwards, beyond reach of the Captain’s grasp, as he casually scanned the apparently bare cliff, then stiffened when he saw the hidden rifleman. “What—?” “Still!” hissed Barbara. “Telescopic sights. Veralloy-coated bullets! They’ll puncture your armor, Captain. And he won’t miss.” She was watching his frozen face. “The charge is high-velocity.” She was still speaking so softly that nobody except myself and the Captain appreciated the threat she was making. Or her skill in holding his attention long enough to deliver the whole of it. “There are forty other marksmen hidden on both sides of the Cove. All with telescopic sights, veralloy-coated rounds, and high-velocity charges. By now each of them has identified a target. Forty marksmen with their sights on thirty Federal Marshals. All knowing the range to a meter and all behind good cover.”

The Captain made an instinctive movement toward her.

She stepped back, then stood firm. “If you grab me. Or if I signal. You—and every one of your men—will be dead in the first volley.”

“You wouldn’t dare! You’re bluffing!” But he kept his voice low, and that showed he feared she wasn’t.

“I’m not bluffing. Though I’d rather like you to believe I am.” Her gray eyes were fixed on his face. “Because the quickest solution to our problem would be to kill the lot of you with one salvo.”

Watching the Captain’s face, I could almost read his mind.

This child might have some boy fool enough to shoot at him. But to have forty marksmen hidden—that was so far outside his image of young girls—of pacifist Believers—that he was about to lunge forward, call her bluff, and start a massacre. I stepped from behind the building where I had been hiding and called, “Hold it, Captain! She’s right!”

He checked his move and stared at me. I walked over to stand where I was within his hearing but outside the reach of both him and Barbara. My Luger was now strapped openly at my hip and the sight of it convinced the Captain that here was the person he really had to face. “Who are you?”

“Once a Trooper. Third Section. Under Colonel Jewett. Before your time, Captain.”

“Colonel Jewett!” The name still echoed through the Force.

“The same.” I moved closer and spoke as softly as had Barbara. “Every word this brat has said is true. Those oldsters are pacifists. These kids are killers. They’ve hunted deer through those woods all their lives. Now they’re aching for a chance to hunt men. They’re first-class shots and they don’t plan on being taken off for reprogramming. Though most of ’em sure need it!”

Slowly he surveyed the cliffs on both sides of the Cove. Then he looked back at me. “My orders are to arrest the ringleaders of this Settlement. And to rescue the children.”

“I was with the Third when General Grainer was ordered to capture Eastern Moonbase. Grainer had the guts to obey his reason rather than his orders. That’s why I—and you— are still alive. Take the time to satisfy yourself that each of your men is on the wrong end of a rifle. Then get them out of here alive. Let the politicos do their own dirty work. Let them do the dying for a change.”