''Indentured workers?'' That was the great thing about being a boot ensign, all the time you were learning new stuff.
''Yeah, New Eden slashed its welfare budget a few years back. Get a job or get a ticket to Olympia or a couple other new colonies where the fields aren't big enough for agribusiness.''
''And they'd work for you,'' Tommy said.
''No, they'd work to pay off their ticket. For one year's work, I'd pay for a seventh of the ticket. Seven years and you're free and clear.'' The man squatted down to pluck a blade of grass. He eyed it like someone might a vintage wine before sticking the end of it in his mouth. ''Of course, the poor damn workfare types got no grubstake, no cash. The lucky ones end up working in town at the processing plants.''
''We're feeding them out of soup kitchens,'' Kris told him.
''I wondered how they were making out,'' the man said.
Kris did a quick count around the farmyard. Lots of kids, lots of old, lots of in between. ''You had a lot of firepower when the gunmen came.''
''Gunman didn't come here.''
''Smart of them.'' Kris grinned.
Tommy frowned. ''Then how come you went off the net?''
''Windmills died. No power.'' The man shrugged.
''We'll leave you some batteries,'' Kris said. Tom nodded. ''But why were you the only farm not attacked?''
The guy looked at Kris like she was a very slow learner. ''Woman, you still don't know who the swamp runners are, do you?''
''You kept your indentured workers,'' Kris repeated slowly, then saw where that led. ''The other farms didn't.''
''Yep.''
''The folks in the swamps are unemployed field hands.''
''Yep.'' He kind of smiled.
Tommy blinked rapidly for a long moment as his mouth slowly opened. ''So the raping, the stealing, the killing was all done by folks that had worked for the farm owners?''
The guy looked up at Tommy. ''Maybe. Maybe not.''
Kris stooped down beside the farmer; he offered her a strand of grass. She sucked on it; there wasn't much taste. Probably not much food value. Then, she'd eaten a full ration in the truck jostling along between farms. Lack of food was not her problem. People were.
As Tommy sat down, his eyes wide with puzzlement, Kris shook her head. ''You can't tell me that a bunch of ex-welfare types who've been doing grunt work out in the fields here stole the IDents, fenced them off world, and in some cases sold entire farms.''
''For a Navy type, you're not too dumb, kid.'' The farmer smiled. ''Cops on Eden sweeping up welfare flakes maybe pick up a few extras. Punks, thugs, mafioso wanna-bes, troublemakers they'd like to be rid of. Problem child wakes up on the ship, already under boost. That's one that won't bother those cops again. Bright boy lands here, we put him to work along with the others. Maybe he works, maybe he sets up a floating crap game. Somebody always has something to risk. Then he brings in the alcohol, maybe some drugs, too. No matter how poor folks are, they seem to find money for that.'' The man shook his head.
''And when all hell comes calling,'' Kris took up the story, ''the likes of him can see their ticket out of here.''
''Right. Collect some tough henchmen, some guns, go find the folks starving in the swamp, promise them a meal if they'll help you get back at the folks that put them down in the mud. You know the rest of the story.''
Tommy shook his head. ''But the raping.''
''Not always just the big men and the henchmen. Some of the hands have a lot of anger. But there's a few women I've taken in whose brothers or husbands tried to stop it. They got a bullet or beat up for the trying.''
Kris eyed her prisoners. Somehow, they seemed less loathsome. ''Think I have any kingpins or henchmen here?''
''I don't know. Some of my folks still have family in the swamps. Maria, who was giving your prisoners water, has a boyfriend out there.'' Kris frowned at the farmer. He shook his head. ''Milo has a job here anytime he wants it. Sad part is he also has a kid brother who thinks being a gunman is what being a man is all about. Milo's trying to keep the kid out of trouble until he can talk him down.''
''What about these?'' Tom waved at the prisoners. ''What will happen when we turn them in to the authorities at Port Athens?''
''Don't know. Even if they aren't murderers or rapists, they were running with them. The people that'll be sitting on the juries are gonna be desperate, scared, and mad. Doesn't make for a good combination where justice is concerned.''
''So much for the search for truth.'' Tommy sighed.
Kris nodded, but she was replaying her little skirmish in the swamp. ''I shot the gunmen behind the roadblock tree first off, including the man with the megaphone. I got the first ones out of the water on both sides.''
''And after that the rest didn't fight much.'' Tommy nodded ''Most seemed ready to break and run. What's that make our prisoners guilty of? Being as hungry as their victims. Looking the other way when the toughs get their jollies. Damn. On Santa Maria, no man touches a woman that doesn't want it. A man gets that wrong, and any man or woman in hearing will help him learn that lesson fast.''
Pain ran across Tommy's face as he shook his head. ''My priest taught me a poor man has a right to steal a rich man's bread to feed a starving family. He didn't have much of an answer when I asked about poor stealing from the poor. Damn, Kris, this is a hell of a mess. But nobody touches a woman. No man doesn't answer a woman's call for help.'' He glanced at the trucks now loaded only with prisoners. ''Damn, this is a mess you've gotten me in, Longknife.'' Kris only half listened to Tommy's moaning about who was right and who was guilty. She had a bigger problem.
She'd pissed off a lot of bad guys with guns. Now what do you do, smart girl?
''How you getting back to town?'' the man asked.
''Up the road,'' Kris waved absentmindedly.
''Through Wildebeest Wallow?''
Kris pulled out her reader and shared her map with him. The road went fairly straight through a grove of trees. Surprisingly well-kept trees, now that Kris looked at them.
The farmer pointed at them with pride. ''That used to be a bit of a swamp. We planted walnut trees in there to build up the land, change the acidity of the soil. In another couple of years, I can cut them down and double my acreage.''
''Since there didn't seem to be a lot of standing water, I thought it would be a safe route home.''
The farmer shook his head. ''Been a lot of trucks going that way this afternoon. I think you kicked over a hornets' nest. If people like you and your food convoy can run around free hereabouts, won't be long before the police come looking for the likes of them. Maybe they can buy a ticket off planet, maybe they don't want to. Maybe some of them think they got enough money to buy this mud ball. I hear that squatters are already moving onto some of the farms, the ones that got shot up when they fought back.''
''We didn't see anybody at the Sullivan place,'' Kris told him, mouth running while her thinking was still elsewhere. ''One of the McDowells found that their farm had been sold off planet to someone using their IDents.''
''Seems the history books are full of this year's bandit being next year's revolutionary and an established politician the year after that,'' Tommy observed dryly.
''Yeah, nobody's very demanding of a rebel leader's credentials,'' Kris agreed. But that was next year's problem; right now Kris had to survive today. ''How many riflemen would you say were headed for that grove of trees?''
''Maybe two hundred,'' the farmer said. ''Everyone they got.''
''How many of those do you think are ringleaders and their bully boys?''
''Thirty, maybe forty.''
''Problem will be separating the two,'' Kris muttered. The rain started getting heavy again; the last few hours had been just gray and misty. She tapped her commlink. ''HQ, this is Ensign Longknife. I need to talk to the Colonel.''
''Wait one,'' was the reply.
The wait was a lot less than a full minute. ''Let me guess, Ensign, you want some more advice.''