Fountains of Mercy by Alma T. C. Boykin

Author:Alma T. C. Boykin [Boykin, Alma T. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Alternate History, Russia
ISBN: 9781773420912
Publisher: IndieBookLauncher.com
Published: 2019-09-05T06:00:00+00:00

That evening, Pete lay back in his reclining seat at the apartment and wondered what would come next. Cynthia had gone out to a music performance, leaving Pete to reheat food and consider the next disaster looming just over the horizon. Thinking about Arturo’s news made him shiver all over again, with fear and anger both. People from ColLandPlat, the enormous sprawling hub of the planetary administration, spaceports, and home to hundreds of thousands of improved settlers, had begun raiding the outlying settlements. “Sometimes the sub-setters take food and clothes, other times furnishings and cookware, although no one knows what they do with those. Probably sell them as scrap or just dump them somewhere, or use them as weapons. They harass the livestock and have even killed a few of the farmers, roughed up more. And security won’t stop them. They say the farmers need to be faster calling them in, because they can’t station security people everywhere.” Arturo’s fists had clenched. “And the Mennonites at least won’t fight back.”

Pete could barely process the idea. Why would someone not defend themselves when their lives were in danger? Arturo had tried to explain, but Pete still had trouble wrapping his mind around it. “They use an old, pre-Unification Bible, and they have Scriptures that say you need to forgive your enemies and not to hurt people. Apparently some translations take it to the point that you should not defend your physical person or property.”

I like your Holy Writ better, Lord, Pete thought. No wonder they’re so shy, if they’re pre-Unification Christians. Talk about an endangered species! Or so everyone said, and Pete didn’t doubt the conventional wisdom and Church teaching. Yes, we’re supposed to be forgiving, but the prophet Jesus never said we should let people kill us without trying to at least protect our wives and children. And the threat of death by starvation counts as an attack in my book. And in exchange for their freedom to live in the old ways and worship as they choose, as part of their transportation contract, people at the Heritage Centers couldn’t draw on any subsistence assistance except in emergencies. Apparently the Company didn’t think having the winter food supply threatened and crops and livestock ruined counted as an emergency. The veins in Pete’s temples throbbed.

Pete left Cynthia sleeping when he went to the office the next morning. They’d both forgotten how much energy being pregnant took, even with modern nutritional boosters. He crept out of the apartment, glancing at the grey sky overhead as he crossed the courtyard. The warm, heavy morning air suggested that he’d need his rain jacket before the day ended. The low sky matched his mood.

Once at the office, he worked steadily for an hour or so, confirming the timetables and sending any updates to the subcontractors involved in the project.

Someone knocked on the doorframe, then said, “Tap, tap, tappa tap.”

“I gave at the office.”

“Tappata tappata tap tap.”

“I like my current religion.”

“Tap tap taptaptaptap knock knock.”

Pete gave in and opened the door.

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