“I’m petrified. After this, protestors won’t be satisfied just to carry signs or beat on drums. Next time, they’ll be armed with guns, clubs, and Molotov cocktails. This is just the start.”
“Thank you, Ms. Draper. Please stay in the studio because I’d like to get your reaction to an interview we have with Commander Walter Dimster, head of the NPF.”
An interviewer said, “Commander Dimster, today the NPF killed four protestors and injured many more. What is your reaction to this?”
“I’m giving medals to the brave peacekeepers who put their lives on the line to protect the community against violent agitators.”
“But according to witnesses, the demonstration was peaceful until the NPF officers opened fire with rubber bullets.”
“Peaceful. I’ve heard that before. Somebody always whines, ‘This is a peaceful demonstration.’ Well, every demonstration has the potential to turn violent. It’s our mandate to ensure it doesn’t.”
“But it did. And it did after your officers opened fire.”
“That’s your opinion. Were you there? Were you facing a screaming mob? Our officers are trained professionals. If in their judgment a situation warrants the use of force, I want them to use it.”
“Even if it means injuring, even killing innocent people?”
“These people weren’t innocent. The law prohibits large gatherings. That demonstration was illegal. Those participating in it were guilty of a violation. Our job is to enforce the law. If our officers have to use deadly force on rioters, that is exactly what I want them to do. If people object to being shot, my advice to them is to stay home.”
“Will what happened tonight change the way you deal with demonstrations in the future?”
“Absolutely. We won’t be so lenient the next time we’re faced with an illegal mob.”
“Lenient? What do you mean?”
“We lost a tactical advantage by using non-lethal methods of crowd control for too long.”
“Non-lethal? You mean rubber bullets?”
“That’s exactly what I mean. This is a warning to troublemakers everywhere. Next time we meet, we’ll be using live ammunition on you at the outset. So stay home.”
“That was Commander Dimster promising to ramp up actions against demonstrators. Back to you.”
The picture returned to the news announcer and Josie Draper. The announcer, who seemed to struggle to keep her voice calm, said, “Professor Draper, what is your reaction to what we just saw?”
Josie Draper sat, her head bowed. When she looked up, her eyes were moist. “I’m terrified. I’m just terrified. I’m sorry.” She stumbled out of the studio.
29
FIGHTING BACK
Two men staggered down the road past the awnings of the street vendors, their voices clashing in an out-of-tune rendition of some drinking song. One of them stumbled, his feet tangling with the other man’s, both falling to the ground.
“What’d you do that for? You tryin’ to be an ass?”
“Hey, it ain’t my fault if you’re too drunk to stand.”
“I ain’t too drunk to beat the crap out of you.”
“Yeah? Bring it on, crapface.”
The two men began to tussle, occasional punches flailing in the air. A Peak rover rounded the corner and screeched to a stop. Two Peaks got out, weapons ready. One of them yelled, “What’s going on here?”
The men separated, struggling to maintain their balance. “No problem, officer. Just havin’ a bit o’ fun.”
Another Peak came out of the vehicle. “Maybe we oughta run you jerks in for disturbing the peace.”
One of the men stumbled toward one of the Peaks, staggering to the side of the rover. He glanced inside, yelled “Three,” and drew a knife.
Half a dozen men wielding knives erupted from the nearby buildings. In a few seconds, three Peaks lay dead. The men slipped back into the shadows.
“THAT’S HOW WE used to trap them,” Roald said to Darius and Ilona. “But just as slime mold evolves, so do the Peaks. Last time we tried this stunt, one of the Peaks locked himself in the rover, so we couldn’t get to him. He used the rover’s immobilizer on the men who were staging the fight. We never saw either of them again.”
Darius said, “So we need a new tactic.”
Roald nodded. “Any ideas?”
Ilona signed, “Use their weakness.”
“What weakness.”
She stood, thrust out a hip, and undid the top two buttons of her blouse.
A WOMAN RAN down the street, her blouse ripped, her slacks torn. She glanced over her shoulder, her feet pounding the ground, turning back in time to slide to a stop in front of a Peak rover. A Peak got out, his eyes scanning her body, the flesh of her breasts exposed by the torn blouse. “Is there a problem, lady?”
The woman shook her head and turned to run, but the Peak grabbed her. Another Peak came out of the rover. “This here lady’s in trouble. Maybe we oughta take her into custody. For her protection.”
The woman struggled, but both men had her now, pulling her toward the rover. One of them opened the door. She glanced inside, signed four, and pulled a knife from under her blouse. A group of men sprang from nearby alleys. Within a minute, four Peaks lay on the ground, their blood gushing from slashes across their necks.
A YEAR AND several missions passed. In their public life, they were just another couple, eking out a living on what Darius could earn sharpening knives and on a related venture in which he taught people techniques of throwing and carving. She found a ready business teaching sign language. They were earning enough to repair and furnish the shack they’d moved into, and while they discussed getting a better home, they had settled in and were becoming fixtures in the neighbourhood.
Darius and Roald grew closer. Perhaps because Darius had known Andrew, Roald saw him almost as family. Or perhaps he took the younger man on as a protégé, grooming him for a larger role in the resistance. On one occasion, Darius mentioned his surprise that the city had electricity. Roald said, “That’s part of their strategy.”
“What strategy?”
“One of the biggest threats to the government is that the country becomes fragmented, divided into local communities that may be encouraged to organize against them. Preventing that requires propaganda. The constant message that the government is on your side. That requires mass communications, and that needs electricity.”
“For lights? That doesn’t make sense.”
Roald frowned. “No, for radio and television. They maintain a government news channel. Of course, they block any signals from outside the country. That way, they can deliver the message they want without interference.”
Darius thought for a minute. “Could that be a weak point? Something we might take advantage of?”
“Good thinking. We’re a few steps ahead but good thinking.”
“A few steps ahead? How?”
“One day.”
Darius and Ilona were also becoming known in the local resistance. The antipathy the others hurled at Ilona faded as they came to respect her. But her days on the front lines of the attacks ended when her pregnancy began to show. The baby, a girl they named Helena after Darius’s aunt and, by coincidence, after an aunt of Ilona, became a favourite in the meeting rooms of the resistance. The other fighters adopted Helena, cuddled her, held her. When Darius commented on the discrepancy between the rough demeanour of the fighters and their tenderness toward Helena, one of them said, “Life and possibilities and hope are what we fight for.”