Red Star Sheriff

by Timothy Purvis

  “Only Eighth? Figured it would’ve been more like the First or something given the sort of fear this man elicits in people.”

  “Well, the general is the favorite of President Lee, so I’ve heard. If rumors are to be believed, he likes to put himself on the front lines of potential conflicts. Suss out adversarial weaknesses. As far as the Eighth goes, the rest of the fleet was sent off to the Pheyton Range while we entered Hinon orbit. How did you figure it was a dreadnought?”

  “Cruisers don’t bring the sort of firepower I found out there. That was a fully trained assault regiment. I figured one of two things was true: The Union sent a battleship or they sent a dreadnought. Given the lack of response from our government, I thought a dreadnought more likely given they’re occasionally used as a diplomatic envoy. What with them being so rare and all. There’s like five of them ever built, right?”

  “Six. And, really logical insight there.”

  “So, Berricks isn’t very diplomatic, I take it?”

  “Whatever would give you that idea?” Durante gave a twisted grin. “No, he’s not. He’s about the most vicious and frightening man I’ve ever met. I don’t know a whole lot about him, really. I was assigned the posting last year. We were only supposed to be out for four weeks, or so I was told. But we’ve been in Hinon orbit for the last ten months. I never found out why, just kept focusing on solving the Pylons problem. Anyhow, General Berricks is a tall man with white-grey hair that often falls down his neck. He likes to wear dusters and cowboy hats rather than the standard Union uniform. His voice is gruff, gravelly even. He has this poofy mustache that makes him look a little… uhm…”

  He waved his hand in front of his face and Aidele understood what he was going for and chuckled as they both said, “Walrusy.”

  He laughed. “Yeah. But, he’s a decorated veteran. I understand he even fought in the Civil War. When he’s tasked with something, he sees it through.”

  Aidele rubbed her chin. “Then it all makes sense why the Union wants my father’s journal.”

  Durante leaned forward. “No. Not the Union. General Berricks. He has a dreadnought. He has to want to, I don’t know, conquer the world for himself or something.”

  Aidele was taken aback. “You can’t be that naïve, Durante. The Union wants to retake their lost colonies. You’ve seen what’s in that journal, right? What’s in those last twenty pages particularly?”

  Durante grumbled. “I might have thumbed through it. But none of that proves the Union is responsible for all of this. No. The general went rogue.”

  “Spirits, Durante!” She waved her hands through the air. “Those are designs for a gravitational core! It’s an engine that could alter the balance of power in all of Sol! Hell, you could reach the outer colonies in no time with it! It puts your Pylons Project to shame! It would be like comparing a bicycle to a jet!”

  “That gravitic drive would give the citizens of Sol upper mobility. I can’t imagine the Union hogging it to itself. It would be insane!” His face trembled as he spoke and waved his own hands. “Not everything has a military purpose, Aidele!”

  “Ugh!” She flopped backwards. “Yer infuriating! It’s that eggheaded science mind o’yers! Always lookin’ ta the best in people! We’re still at war!”

  “There are treaties, and trade routes, and alliances all across Sol. It makes no sense to sacrifice all of that for one beneficial technology. They would get it, Hinon would get it, everyone would get it! It would be a boon in trade, transportation, communications even! Imagine how business could be enhanced! How new technologies could be built as a result! How poverty could even be eliminated just by allowing more people better employment opportunities all across the solar system! Hell, we could even start colonization efforts in neighboring star systems! What your father invented is ingenious! He solved the one thing that has held us back in space technologies for centuries! He solved how gravity actually works!”

  Aidele chuckled a sigh and leaned back forward. “I wish I shared that same sense of awe. I really do. But all I can see is the weaponization of it.”

  “We’re getting way ahead of ourselves anyway. The ability to develop this tech is likely years away, if not decades. We don’t even know if the professor brought a mockup to prototype. Those designs could even very well just be speculation and might not even function as he anticipated. We’d need his notes on his gravitational theory as well to understand exactly how such a drive might function.”

  “You know that he did. And you know that it does. Because it wasn’t designed for public use at first, now was it?”

  Durante went quiet and then pursed his lips. “No. No it wasn’t. It was for your mother. For whatever reason. That whole journal was a manual meant for Mirra. Just like those guns of yours.”

  Aidele nodded. “Yeah. Because she was a Red Star Sheriff.”

  “I don’t even know what that is.”

  “Neither do I, truth be told. And it’ll have to remain a mystery for the time being. That aside, can we at least agree Berricks can’t get his hands on my father’s journal?”

  Durante nodded. “Yes. I think we can agree there.”

  She reached across the table and placed a hand on top of his. “I know you don’t believe it. That this is just some… plot by Berricks to conquer Hinon. And maybe it is as simple as that. But I fear the Union has come back to finish the job. And if it turns out that’s the case, will you stand by my side to stop them? To preserve Hinon’s sovereignty? Or… will you stand by the Union, with the ones who employ you?”

  “I… Aidele…” Durante withdrew his hand and stood up to pace. “There’s peace in Sol. The Union has its problems, sure, and they can be… stern. To say the least. Laws are strict. But… no… I just can’t see it! The Union would never ignore the treaties that have been in place for thirty years! They wouldn’t. Besides… what are the two of us going to do against an armed nation coming to seize the colonies?” He shook his head. “No. Let’s just focus on Mr. Berricks and his agenda. Find a way to contact Philadelphia and the president. Warn him that the general has turned against the Union. Can… Can we do that?”

  Aidele sighed inwardly. “Okay. We can do that. Get some rest. I have some thinking to do.”

  Aidele got up and left the room leaving Durante to continue his pacing.

  HER GAZE STAYED on the stovetop. She knew what the next action would have to be. She just wished Durante wasn’t so stubborn about his view on the Union. But she needed him. Yet, when the total plot was unveiled, what would he do? Would he turn her over to Berricks at the end of the day? Or would he come to his senses?

  Maybe he’s right, though. Maybe it is Berricks and his delusional ass is looking to take a whole world for himself. Yeah, right. And I’m an Anunnaki overlord. It just wouldn’t make any sense to try and seize a whole planet with a motley crew for just themselves. She took a deep breath and pushed off the stove. Then, we leave today.

  She went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. She was still haggard looking. And smelled pretty ripe. Neither of them had been able to adequately bathe due to the bathtub being broken and full of random junk. The faucet to the tub was rusted over as well leaving just the sink to splash in. It was a minor miracle that Durante had been able to treat her wounds with only a minor infection. Fortunately, she recovered from that feverish nightmare. Maybe there’s a bath at the labs. One can hope. Cause we both need a good long bathing.

  The clothing she was wearing were generic jeans and white button up shirt that’d been left behind by a weary traveler. They fit well enough but were a little loose. Her own clothes had been a tattered, bloody mess and no longer wearable. Her duster, though dirty and ragged, was still in decent enough shape. She turned, headed toward a bedroom she’d been sleeping in using an old cot she’d found stored in the storage closet. She slung on her belt and pulled on her duster that was laying on the cot, then placed her now pristine looking revolvers into her holsters (He did a fantastic job cleaning t
hese). After she was good and ready, she headed back out towards the garage where Durante had slowly been charging the buggy.

  Once there, she braced her fists on her hips. Durante sat in the driver’s seat reading through the journal. He looked up when he saw her and smiled.

  “Hey, how’s it going?”

  “We leave today.”

  “We do? Well, the buggy is almost fully charged. So, I think—”

  “We’re not taking the buggy.”

  “We’re not?”

  Aidele shook her head. “I know our next move. We need to head up ta mah father’s labs up in the Crags. So, we’re going to take the tram.”

  “Okay. Why the labs?”

  “We need to verify if dad brought that core ta prototype or not. After that, we can head to Aquila Mons ta try’n make yer call.”

  He leaned forward. “Alright sounds like a plan—wait, did you say ‘take the tram’?”

  “Yeah. The one in the transit tunnel below. You mean ta tell me we’ve been here over two weeks an’ not once didja go downstairs?”

  “I… I didn’t even know there was a downstairs!”

  “Well, there is.” She chuckled and rubbed a hand across her face. “I also see you elected not to use any of the cots stored in the back.”

  “Shut up! Where?”

  She sighed and looked to the ceiling. “There’s a storage room in the back with sliders in the wall. Did you not realize I was in the bedroom sleeping on one?”

  “Well, I just thought you got yourself some blankets and found a nice comfy corner like I did. Huhn… I never noticed.”

  “Well, it’s irrelevant now. I hope.” She looked at him. “Anyhow, grab what you need out of the buggy and come help me pack up some supplies.”

  “Oh, sure.”

  Aidele grabbed a duffle bag off a shelf while Durante grabbed his backpack from his backseat, it now held his shoulder pack he’d had with him on their initial flight into the Spine. She headed inside. It only took about an hour and then they were headed down a back corridor that led into a dark section of the premises. The lights automatically flicked on as they walked towards a stairwell leading down towards a small transit station about as large as the monitor room. They came out onto a platform that stretched out towards two rails heading into two round tunnels in either direction. There was a platform on the other side as well accessible by a bridge that was more of a catwalk rising up and over the rail system. On the rail nearest them, was a singular pill-shaped vehicle with curved windows all around its mid hull. To their left, was a smaller, ball shaped vessel that Aidele knew of as a ‘handcart’ that sat on a rail perpendicular to the main system and dead-ended at the platform they were standing on and ran into a separate tunnel that looked to be built under the research station. Aidele ignored this side of the room and stepped forward towards the pill-shaped vehicle.

  “Huhn. Go figure.” Durante mumbled as Aidele triggered the tram door. She tossed the duffle bag and knapsack into a back cubby and sat down in the driver’s seat which swirled around as she strapped in.

  Durante followed suit into the backwards facing passenger seat and before he knew it was facing forward. A console curved from one side to another before them was filled with blinking lights, a holoprojector, and levers. Aidele reached forward to flip a switch and a hum filled the interior.

  “Alright. Let’s go see if that prototype was built or not. Whatever we find at the labs, once we head to Aquila Mons, we should warn the Council about Berricks, too.”

  “We should?”

  “At the very least, even if it’s just Berricks, they need to know.”

  “Very true. Good thinking.”

  “Hopefully the labs have a washroom,” she looked over at him. “You stink.”

  Durante looked back with a forced smile. “You don’t exactly smell like a bed of roses yourself.”

  “Hush your mouth. I’m always sweet as peaches.”

  “Uh huhn. Why am I having trouble believing that?”

  Aidele grinned as the tram clicked, pushed forwards, and picked up speed entering the tunnel.

  SAM BERRICKS CLENCHED his left fist as he struggled to adjust to his new prosthetic arm. He rubbed his shoulder where the metallic monstrosity met his upper chest. He flinched. Even after three weeks, it was still raw and uncomfortable.

  At least that took care of my old aches. Suppose there’s that to thank the little shit for.

  Several doctors stood nearby observing him and nodding to one another, speaking in hushed tones. One stepped forward and readjusted the bed Sam was on. It was already at an incline, but the doctor hit a pedal on the floor to bring it nearly vertical so that he could step off without significant effort.

  “Those disconcerting sensations should fade after a few days, Mr. Berricks,” the doctor began. “The interface can sometimes take a while to make full cognitive connection. That you’re able to make a fist and flex your arm are very good signs of successful integration.”

  Sam only grunted. The doctors looked to one another then back to the general.

  “If you require anything further, sir, just summon us and we’ll be right here.”

  Sam made a motion with his right hand and the doctor nodded. “Very well, general. Oh, and Mr. Nielson is awaiting you in the office.”

  “Send him in.” Sam said.

  The doctor turned and the three of them exited the room through the far side dual doorway. Nielson entered as they beat a hasty retreat. The operations ward was a wide room with various tables and monitors in random intervals. It was semi pill- shaped, with a curve from the ceiling where the ceilings met rolling down below the floor. The start of the room was one long flat wall running from window edge to another wall at the far end of the room. The floor was of a slate metal design and the walls an off white with a thick yellow line running its center. He hated being in that room. But the wide room length window from floor to ceiling overlooking space and the slowly spinning red world below was impressive.

  The doctors had done the best they could, he knew. However, Ms. Wilson had incinerated his arm taking half his shoulder with it. It’d taken ten operations to rebuild enough of his skeletal frame to emplace the cybernetics necessary to allow the new arm. He would be sure to repay Wilson for her kindness.

  Nielson came up beside him and said nothing as Sam pushed himself away from the table and took a moment to rebalance himself. His bare chest rippled as he breathed in the cool air and worked away the remnants of the cold table’s surface on his back. Sam walked across the room towards the window. Nielson followed in silence, their footsteps the only sound beyond the low subtle hum of some vent in the far ceiling corner. Sam glared at the deep scar on the planet below running across its equator. Clearly visible covering a vast section at the center of that scar was a glittering technological plate, a shield really, of plasmic energy that served as the artificial barrier between the surface of the world and the Wastelands beneath it. Like a transparent bandage with a rippling rainbow of color running from purple to red.

  Sam’s arms hung limply at his sides, his countenance a deep scowl as he stared at his overlain reflection in the thick glass.

  Nielson cleared his throat and raised a data pad in his hands. “You’re showing considerable improvement, sir. Another week and the prosthetic should be fully infused with your body.”

  “I should just burn the whole gawddamned planet to the ground,” he growled in response.

  Nielson offered up a shallow smile. “I’m pretty sure President Lee would frown upon that action, sir. Besides, we haven’t finished the mission yet.”

  “The mission!?” Sam gnashed his teeth and glared at him. “The mission is a bust. Months of work hiring outlaws, setting them loose on the domains, damn near complete civil unrest in several of the domains, and the gawddamn huuks only let local authorities deal with it! Hell, the Wastelands just acted like it was a walk in the park! Just another day of killin’ and wanton destruction! Resilien
t fucks, I’ll give them that. Meanwhile, the planet could be burning down and the Council would merely comment, ‘hasn’t it been hot lately?’ Content to sit on their asses and vote on inaction. If they even get far enough for a referendum on the matter, that is. How they’ve even managed to remain a functioning government for this long is beyond me. And my daughter… felt the urge to get herself lost in all this mess. Speaking of which, has there been any word about where she might be?”

  “Regrettably, no, sir. Local trackers suggest she was in the southwest Delta town of Westfalls some six years ago. After that, she just vanishes from any sort of record. Only found that much out because she was using her married name—”

  “Don’t even suggest that!” Sam held up a finger. “That marriage was annulled!”

  “…Of course, sir. She was using a common name. According to the trackers, nobody else remembers her once she moved on.”

  He turned back to the window. “Damnit, Caitlyn…”

  “I understand your frustrations, sir. Especially when it comes to your daughter. As for the Chuhukon Council, President Lee never expected anything to come of this plan to begin with.”

  “He could’ve fooled me with our last transmission.”

  “He just wants you focused, general. There’s more to this than just a few outlaws running amok. The failure to produce the journal I think is what’s really raising his ire. I doubt he harbors any ill feelings towards yourself, sir. His own frustrations, I’m certain.”