concentrated on the people who had been slaughtered while just trying to get a bit to eat.
Most were already beyond help, but one guy gasped for water as he was laid out. Kris took the canteen her Marine guard offered and knelt beside the man. Blood pulsed from a wound in his chest.
Kris offered the canteen, and the man drank from it. He coughed up water, blood and froth, then sipped a few more drops. The Marine produced a bandage and knelt beside Kris to apply it, but the man waved it away.
“Let me die in peace,” he gasped.
The Marine turned away. He looked around for someone more interested in living but didn’t seem to find anyone. He folded up the bandage and stepped back, returning to alert guard.
The dying man lifted his chin. “You’re that Longknife woman? The one that saved Peterwald? I saw your picture on the news.”
“Yes,” Kris admitted.
“I wish you hadn’t. All hell broke out after you did.”
Kris didn’t have an answer to that, so she kept her peace.
“I thought I could get my family away from St. Pete. Find a hole to hide in.” His cackle of bitter laughter turned into choking, and more blood came up.
Kris offered another sip of water. He took a swig, then spat it out. After a while, he started talking again.
“Jackson said if we didn’t come out here . . . bring back the food . . . she’d kill our families. She’s got all of them in the local football stadium.” He shook his head. “Now she’ll likely kill them all and put their heads on pikes. She’s gonna run out of pikes if she keeps this up.”
He didn’t laugh at his joke. Or maybe there was no joke in his words. Kris found them horrifying.
“Where is this Jackson?” Kris asked. “How much heat do her gunslingers have? Help me save your family.”
“Could you save them like you saved Peterwald? How many will die this time?”
The guy had a legitimate question. Saving Peterwald had cost five thousand innocent lives immediately. How many had died and were going to die in this reign of terror as he and others did their power dance?
“If I have to kill some of Jackson’s hired thugs, how many of them will be innocent bystanders?”
“Not a one,” the man said. “You gonna save my wife? My kids?”
“I’m going to give it a Longknife try,” Kris said, as the man died in her arms.
Kris stood, her dusty whites now caked with the rust of drying blood. She looked around the field. Marines moved with armored and armed purpose. Locals moved with bare legs and skinny arms, helping where they could. Kris spotted Chief Beni, unhooking his computer from a truck.
“Chief, you find anything?” she asked on net.
“This planet doesn’t have a GPS system, but this truck has a cheap inertial platform that tracks where it’s been and helps generate maps. I know where it came from.”
“And that would be?”
“Tranquility Road. That’s a small street, near the center of Lander’s Rest. When I overlay a photo from the Wasp , Tranquility Road seems to be the home of some mighty wealthy people. At least their homes are large, and there is a lot of green around them.”
Nelly pulled a picture from Da Vinci, the chief ’s computer, and hung it in the air ahead of Kris.
“Is that a nice place to live?” Kris asked Mr. Annam.
He nodded. “My father thought of building a town house there. He decided that we had always been farmers, and the money should go into our farm. Now, I am glad he did.”
“Nelly, zoom in the picture. I’m looking for an iron fence with spikes. Is there one?”
“These three houses in the middle of the block have such fences. One of our nanoscouts is in that area. Let me zoom in.”
“You might want to look away from this,” Kris said in warning to the locals.
“What are those things?” the wife asked.
“Severed heads,” Kris said. “Severed heads and the crows that feed on them. I think we’ve found where the powers that be on Kaskatos hang out.”
The plantation owner
Most were already beyond help, but one guy gasped for water as he was laid out. Kris took the canteen her Marine guard offered and knelt beside the man. Blood pulsed from a wound in his chest.
Kris offered the canteen, and the man drank from it. He coughed up water, blood and froth, then sipped a few more drops. The Marine produced a bandage and knelt beside Kris to apply it, but the man waved it away.
“Let me die in peace,” he gasped.
The Marine turned away. He looked around for someone more interested in living but didn’t seem to find anyone. He folded up the bandage and stepped back, returning to alert guard.
The dying man lifted his chin. “You’re that Longknife woman? The one that saved Peterwald? I saw your picture on the news.”
“Yes,” Kris admitted.
“I wish you hadn’t. All hell broke out after you did.”
Kris didn’t have an answer to that, so she kept her peace.
“I thought I could get my family away from St. Pete. Find a hole to hide in.” His cackle of bitter laughter turned into choking, and more blood came up.
Kris offered another sip of water. He took a swig, then spat it out. After a while, he started talking again.
“Jackson said if we didn’t come out here . . . bring back the food . . . she’d kill our families. She’s got all of them in the local football stadium.” He shook his head. “Now she’ll likely kill them all and put their heads on pikes. She’s gonna run out of pikes if she keeps this up.”
He didn’t laugh at his joke. Or maybe there was no joke in his words. Kris found them horrifying.
“Where is this Jackson?” Kris asked. “How much heat do her gunslingers have? Help me save your family.”
“Could you save them like you saved Peterwald? How many will die this time?”
The guy had a legitimate question. Saving Peterwald had cost five thousand innocent lives immediately. How many had died and were going to die in this reign of terror as he and others did their power dance?
“If I have to kill some of Jackson’s hired thugs, how many of them will be innocent bystanders?”
“Not a one,” the man said. “You gonna save my wife? My kids?”
“I’m going to give it a Longknife try,” Kris said, as the man died in her arms.
Kris stood, her dusty whites now caked with the rust of drying blood. She looked around the field. Marines moved with armored and armed purpose. Locals moved with bare legs and skinny arms, helping where they could. Kris spotted Chief Beni, unhooking his computer from a truck.
“Chief, you find anything?” she asked on net.
“This planet doesn’t have a GPS system, but this truck has a cheap inertial platform that tracks where it’s been and helps generate maps. I know where it came from.”
“And that would be?”
“Tranquility Road. That’s a small street, near the center of Lander’s Rest. When I overlay a photo from the Wasp , Tranquility Road seems to be the home of some mighty wealthy people. At least their homes are large, and there is a lot of green around them.”
Nelly pulled a picture from Da Vinci, the chief ’s computer, and hung it in the air ahead of Kris.
“Is that a nice place to live?” Kris asked Mr. Annam.
He nodded. “My father thought of building a town house there. He decided that we had always been farmers, and the money should go into our farm. Now, I am glad he did.”
“Nelly, zoom in the picture. I’m looking for an iron fence with spikes. Is there one?”
“These three houses in the middle of the block have such fences. One of our nanoscouts is in that area. Let me zoom in.”
“You might want to look away from this,” Kris said in warning to the locals.
“What are those things?” the wife asked.
“Severed heads,” Kris said. “Severed heads and the crows that feed on them. I think we’ve found where the powers that be on Kaskatos hang out.”
The plantation owner
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