Kyle’s father, in his turn, had sworn never to lay a hand on his family in anger, and had kept that vow. From his military service he took a different lesson, that of self-discipline, of keeping his emotions in check, of leading the fragmented unit of his family into functioning as a whole. Kyle had, he hoped, put more of his father’s lessons into practice than his grandfather’s. To a certain extent, he supposed, he was genetically doomed to a military career and all the attendant difficulties. There had been very few generations of Rikers, as far back as he’d been able to research, that hadn’t included soldiers. And while, of course, not every military person had emotional problems, he guessed there was probably some correlation. The traits that made for a good soldier—the ability to follow orders, to sublimate the individual for the unit, to kill without undue anguish—didn’t necessarily lend themselves well to getting along in a domestic situation. Will—poor, innocent Will—had had to pay that price as well, and that, as much as losing Annie and letting Kate go, was the central heartbreak of Kyle Riker’s life. He didn’t want to let it happen again, ever.
After a quick dash through the hot, dusty morning streets, Michelle met her unit at a designated spot near the fringes of The End. Those who were taking part in today’s parade disruption had split into nine teams of seven each. Michelle’s unit consisted of six people she’d never met before, who knew her only by her nom de guerreof Kyle Riker, which-she had taken in honor of the man who had done more for her, in a relatively short span of time, than all the men she had ever known. He’d inspired her, he’d guided and encouraged her activism, he’d offered brilliant strategic advice, and he had touched her, emotionally and physically, in ways she hadn’t believed she could be touched. The strangest part was, he seemed almost totally oblivious to it all, as if he couldn’t quite believe he offered all these gifts and kept wondering what hook it was that kept her near him.
Her unit was all Cyrians, except for her. That was fine, they’d blend in better with the crowds around the parade. Security was always tight around public events, especially when multiple council members were present, but unless there had been leaks, it wouldn’t be any tighter today than usual. Which meant there would be openings, and more would become available once things started to happen.
“I brought the reels,” one of them said. Her nom de guerrewas Alstatis, the name of an ancient Hazimotian hero whose exploits had entered the realm of myth. She opened a bag and showed off seven reels of extremely fine metal wire.
“That’s excellent,” Michelle said. From several blocks away they could already hear cheers and jubilation, either from the parade itself or one of the “spontaneous” demonstrations of support for the council. She didn’t really care which it was—both would serve their interests, which involved getting the largest audience possible for their action. “Everybody take one.”
The Cyrians, evenly split between males and females, obeyed her instruction without question. None of them knew who she was but they knew she was the leader here, a member of the cadre that had planned the action, and who would be in charge once the revolution began in earnest. They didn’t mind that; they knew they were the ground troops, the ones who would execute the committee’s plans, and that was fine with them. Michelle noted some shaking hands and dry swallowing as they divvied up the wire reels.
“We’re all nervous,” she told them. “It’s not just you guys, but everyone who’s participating today. After this, everything changes. There will be no backing down, no fading back into the shadows. After today, we overthrow the council or we die trying. So if any of you want to change your mind and give up, now’s the time to do it. Your last chance.”
They watched her as she spoke, their faces rapt or frightened or both. A couple of them said, “I’m staying in,” and one, who Michelle knew only as Cividon, said, “It’s about time.” No one chose to withdraw, for which Michelle was glad.
“Let’s get into place, then,” she suggested. The others agreed and they moved out, toward the parade route.
The parade was slated to run for twenty blocks, or about two kilometers, with a couple of right angles along the way and then a last sweep up the wide, gently curving arc of Epindeis Way, named for one of Cyre’s most famous military victories over its longtime foe Taleraa. Michelle’s group went to the last right turn before the final march up Epindeis, arriving just as the parade passed that point. They saw soldiers marching in full uniform, with helmets on and weapons in hand, and among the soldiers various armored ground vehicles. Behind the soldiers were bands playing uniquely Hazimotian instruments—since arriving here and deciding to stay, Michelle had tried and tried but had never quite been able to comprehend what the Hazimotians considered musical, and the racket they made just seemed like an assault on the ears. Various minor officials brought up the very rear. At the end, far up on Epindeis Way, there was a reviewing stand from which the council members and other luminaries watched the proceedings, and where the induction ceremony would take place as soon as the parade ended.
Now the parade, nearly eight blocks long in total, was entirely on Epindeis Way, which meant it was almost time for the fun to start. Police lined the parade route but after the marchers passed, their attention waned and spectators were allowed to cross the street. Nothing to do now but wait. Michelle felt her own knees shaking with anxiety now, as the moment to act grew ever nearer.
The minutes dragged by.
Finally, there was a commotion at the end. She could barely see what was happening, but they’d been over it often enough in the committee that she knew it anyway. One unit of counter-marchers had suddenly confronted the parade’s head with signs bearing slogans like “The Council’s Corrupt” and “Feed Your Children, Not Council Greed,” and chanting. Another unit had activated smoke devices and hurled them under the reviewing stand—even now, Michelle could begin to see gray and yellow plumes swirling up from the crowd. Yet another on that end exploded noise-making devices—not bombs that would do any damage, but that would leave people’s ears ringing for a good long time. Finally, the last group, already shackled together, would chain themselves to the reviewing stand so that the induction ceremony couldn’t begin until the police had, very publicly, arrested them and hauled them away.
Michelle and her unit were responsible for the finishing touch. As soon as she knew that things had started on the far end of Epindeis, she ordered her troops into action. Three of them squatted on the ground at the parade route’s edge, a wire reel in each hand. The other three grabbed the ends of the wires and ran across the street, trailing wire behind them. Once they’d reached the other end of the street, they also squatted, so six threadlike, nearly invisible wires were strung across the parade route at about knee height. As expected, when the commotion began near the reviewing stand, the minor officials and bands and many of the police officers and soldiers on this end tried to turn and run the other way, distancing themselves from the trouble. But the first ones who ran—the politicians, mostly—found themselves tripped up on the wire. Michelle laughed out loud at seeing so many hated politicos going ass over teakettle onto Epindeis Way.
And the more who came this way, backtracking or retreating from the fireworks at the far end, the greater the pileup. The musicians, carrying their bizarre instruments, tripped over downed politicians. Soldiers and police officers fell over both, trying not to shoot themselves or anyone else as they did so. By this point, Michelle’s teammates had released the wires, which spun silently back into their reels, their work done. No one would know why so many had fallen, now, but they’d look like a bunch of buffoons to the spectators. Buffoons and cowards, for running in the first place.