Free Messiah by S. Andrew Swann Page A

Toni trailed off as if she couldn’t think of an adequate way to finish the sentence.
    “We could have taken the ship back. But after arriving on Bakunin, our interests seemed to mostly parallel yours. Killing you and your sister might have gained us control of the ship, but we would have end up undermanned and less defensible.”
    Toni placed a hand on her face and muttered, “Shit.”
    The man from the Caliphate stepped up and grabbed Karl’s shoulder. “You joined this battle, and you did not release these weapons?”
    Karl laughed weakly, “You plan to fight Adam with laser carbines and slugthrowers? I would have handed them over if there had been a point.” He looked up at Mallory. “But my sin is being old and paranoid. Though, apparently not paranoid enough.”
    “Why did you ask about the medbays?” Mallory asked.
    “An ancient smuggling tool,” Karl said. “Misdirection. Throw a critically wounded crewman on top, scream for aid, and not many people will examine too deeply what is beneath.”
    “The medbays?” Toni asked.
    “They have enough hidden storage, shielded from easy scanning, to hide a small arsenal.”
    The Caliphate man shook Karl. “What is your son planning to do?”
    Mallory took the man’s shoulders and pulled him away from Karl as Karl said, “I honestly don’t know.”
     
    Above the Alpha habitat, the mirrors tilted away from Kropotkin, plunging the habitat into night. Stefan stood at the base of one of the main service elevators wearing the navy-blue jumpsuit of Wisconsin security. The suit’s original owner and the driver of Stefan’s flatbed transport were safely beyond revival, the bodies locked in one of the medbays.
    The medbays and weapons waited for him, stored in a facility closet servicing one of the redundant power systems of the Wisconsin , a place that should be free of any prying eyes unless the power systems suffered a major failure.
    Stefan unshouldered his laser carbine, bequeathed to him by his uniform’s late owner. The driver had been right; security forces were largely absent from this habitat—but the place was awash with refugees. Even the parking area around the elevator was crowded with people sleeping on the ground, and sitting in small groups.
    A few people shouted questions at him, as if he was in charge. He ignored them and walked from the elevator.
    The people they let roam free weren’t of interest. These were the people that weren’t a threat.
    According to the last few statements of his uniform’s prior owner, the refugees who were of concern to Wisconsin security were in a secured warehouse building a few hundred meters from this elevator. Those were the people Stefan wanted.
    He walked off in that direction as the reflected stars came out above him.

CHAPTER NINE

    Trials

    “Shared interests do not imply shared priorities.”
    — The Cynic’s Book of Wisdom

     
“I am prepared to fight in any way the ruling class may make it necessary . . .”
    —EUGENE V. DEBS
(1855-1926)

Date: 2526.8.5 (Standard) Bakunin-BD+50°1725

    Hurry up and wait, Kugara thought as she watched Kropotkin rise above Wilson. They had been groundside for six days, and they hadn’t even made it past the first city.
    Not that she wanted to fault Parvi for trying to do right by the civilians, but the universe was falling apart around them, and every minute they sat on their hands was a minute closer to hearing Adam’s ultimatum, a minute closer to the sky boiling, a minute closer to Bakunin following Salmagundi and Khamsin . . .
    She looked up at the lightening sky and wondered if Adam had set foot on Dakota yet. It had been part of the wormhole network, one of the “core” planets orbiting Tau Ceti along with Haven, the capital planet of the Fifteen Worlds.
    She was beginning to understand some of Nickolai’s fatalism.
    We’re all doomed, she thought. Now, it’s just a matter of sorting out the details.
    She looked down. She stood on the upper level of a