Part 14 (1/2)
The men were silent, and Hamner thought they might have been carved from stone.
”Follow me,” Falkenberg ordered. He led the way to the Stadium entrance.
Lieutenant Banners stood in the doorway.
”Halt,” Banners commanded.
”Really, Lieutenant? Would you fight my troops?” Falkenberg indicated the grim lines behind him.
Lieutenant Banners gulped. Hamner thought the Guard officer looked very young.
”No, sir,” Banners protested. ”But we have barred the doors. The emergency meeting of the a.s.sembly and Senate is electing a new President out there, and we will not permit your mercenaries to interfere.”
”They have not elected anyone,” Falkenberg said.
”No, sir, but when they do, the Guard will be under his command.”
”I have orders from Vice President Hamner to arrest the leaders of the rebellion, and a valid proclamation of martial law,” Falkenberg insisted.
”I'm sorry, sir.” Banners seemed to mean it. ”Our council of officers has decided that President Budreau's surrender is valid. We intend to honor it.”
”I see.” Falkenberg withdrew. He motioned to his aides, and Hamner joined the group. No one objected.
”Hadn't expected this,” Falkenberg said. ”It would take a week to fight through those guardrooms.” He thought for a moment. ”Give me your keys,” he snapped at Hamner.
Bewildered, George took them out. Falkenberg grinned widely. ”There's another way into there, you know. Major Savage! Take G and H Companies of Second Battalion to secure the Stadium exits. Dig yourselves in and set up all weapons. Arrest anyone who comes out.”
”Sir.”
”Dig in pretty good, Jeremy. They may be coming out fighting. But I don't expect them to be well organized.”
”Do we fire on armed men?”
”Without warning, Major. Without warning. Sergeant Major, bring the rest of the troops with me. Major, you'll have twenty minutes.”
Falkenberg led his troops across the courtyard to the tunnel entrance and used Hamner's keys to unlock the doors.
Falkenberg ignored him. He led the troops down the stairway and across, under the field.
George Hamner stayed close to Falkenberg. He could hear the long column of armed men tramp behind him. They moved up stairways on the other side, marching briskly until George was panting. The men didn't seem to notice. Gravity difference, Hamner thought. And training.
They reached the top and deployed along the pa.s.sageways. Falkenberg stationed men at each exit and came back to the center doors. Then he waited. The tension grew.
”But-”
Falkenberg shook his head. His look demanded silence. He stood, waiting, while the seconds ticked past.
”MOVE OUT!” Falkenberg commanded.
The doors burst open. The armed troopers moved quickly across the top of the Stadium. Most of the mob was below, and a few unarmed men were struck down when they tried to oppose the regiment. Rifle b.u.t.ts swung, then there was a moment of calm.
Falkenberg took a speaker from his corporal attendant.
”ATTENTION. ATTENTION. YOU ARE UNDER ARREST BY THE.
AUTHORITY OF THE MARTIAL LAW PROCLAMATION OF PRESIDENT.
BUDREAU. LAY DOWN ALL WEAPONS AND YOU WILL NOT BE HARMED.
IF YOU RESIST, YOU WILL BE KILLED.”.
There was a moment of silence, then shouts as the mob realized what Falkenberg had said. Some laughed. Then shots came from the field and the lower seats of the Stadium.
Hamner heard the flat snap of a bullet as it rushed past his ear. Then he heard the crack of the rifle.
One of the leaders on the field below had a speaker. He shouted to the others.
”ATTACK THEM! THERE AREN'T MORE THAN A THOUSAND OF THEM,.
WE'RE THIRTY THOUSAND STRONG. ATTACK, KILL THEM!”.
There were more shots. Some of Falkenberg's men fell. The others stood immobile, waiting for orders.
Falkenberg raised the speaker again. ”PREPARE FOR VOLLEY FIRE. MAKE READY. TAKE AIM. IN VOLLEY, FIRE!”.
Seven hundred rifles crashed as one.
”FIRE!” Someone screamed, a long drawn-out cry, a plea without words.
”FIRE!”.
The line of men clambering up the seats toward them wavered and broke. Men screamed, some pushed back, dove under seats, tried to hide behind their friends, tried to get anywhere but under the unwavering muzzles of the rifles.
”FIRE!”.
It was like one shot, very loud, lasting far longer than a rifle shot ought to, but it was impossible to hear individual weapons. ”FIRE!”
There were more screams from below. ”In the name of G.o.d-”
”THE FORTY-SECOND WILL ADVANCE. FIX BAYONETS. FORWARD,.
MOVE. FIRE. FIRE AT WILL.”.
Now there was a continuous crackle of weapons. The leather-clad lines moved forward and down, over the stadium seats, flowing down inexorably toward the press below on the field.
”Sergeant Major!”
”SIR!”.