Red Star Sheriff

by Timothy Purvis

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN: RED STAR SHERIFF

  AIDELE STEPPED THROUGH the front door of her new residence as light automatically came to life. She stood there for a moment taking it all in. Grandfather and Durante were behind her waiting to enter as well. It was a good-sized room with a door to her left, leading to either a closet or storage, and a large series of windows to her right running to the far wall. There, the room let out into the left backside into a kitchen, dining room, and a hallway to however many bedrooms the apartment had.

  She walked inward seeing two couches and three chairs. All upholstered in blue material and rather comfortable looking. In the center of the flat flooring, was a holoprojector. Aidele pulled off her coat and Grey Lance and tossed them onto one of the recliners nearest her and to the right, then unclasped her holster still holding her Irons and laid it on top of her coat with a dull thump. Grandfather and Durante followed in after her.

  “Nice place,” Durante commented and walked over to the windows and placed a hand on an interface panel. The dark windows, a steel grey in their privacy mode, became transparent giving a panoramic view of a darkening city. Dusk hadn’t set in yet, it was just past six after all, but the bright lights of faraway windows were already making the city look like it was being lit by stars. And that made Aidele even more exhausted.

  After having spent most of the day at the Praetorium, they’d grabbed dinner at a local restaurant. Most of dinner had been a silent affair and Aidele had taken a moment to use a directory built into the tabletop there to find out where her apartment was. Fortunately, it proved not far from the Praetorium. In fact, she could just see the domed roof of it from the window. There were large sections of the central city surrounding the government complex with overlooks staring down onto where the building had complete dominance of the pavilions surrounding it.

  “Hey, there’s the Praetorium!” Durante smiled and pointed.

  Aidele grumbled under her breath and traipsed over to a couch to flop down with an exasperated exhale. “Make yerselves at home. Enjoy it while it’s here cuz the gov’ don’ care if’n the Union moves in or not.”

  Grandfather chuckled moving inward and taking in the apartment. “Don’t be so dramatic, Granddaughter. The Union controlled Hinon when it was just called ‘Mars’. People did pretty well then, regardless.”

  “Then why was there even a war for sovereignty? If everyone was in such a good way, why the waste of life?” She stared at him with a weary, far away expression. “And what ‘bout the justice fer our family? Nobody cares what we been through. What we’ve lost.”

  Tears formed in her eyes and Grandfather went to the couch she laid on, patted her legs indicating he wanted to sit beside her, and she pulled herself up into a seated position. Durante headed into the kitchen to search through cabinets.

  “Well,” Grandfather started, “you’re asking good questions. The destruction of our home was… tragic. In many ways. However, you have to understand, the Council has no jurisdiction over the Wastelands. So, there was never anything they were going to be able to do about that.”

  “And you’re alright with that? No anger at all?”

  He shook his head and scrunched up his eyes. “No. I’m angry. Angrier than I’ve been in years. But, what else can we expect from them?”

  “So, no justice fer us then?” Aidele wasn’t angry, even though her brows were furrowed. Just full of too much sorrow and the hopeless feeling that there was nothing she could do about it at all.

  Grandfather looked to his lap. “No. I don’t suppose so. Which is horrible. Yet, this is where we find ourselves. As far as why the war was fought, though, I would say it had its genesis in matters similar to the predicament we find ourselves in currently. For centuries, the Chuhukon people were marginalized and treated not even as second-class citizens. Just savages relegated to the Atlantus Clutch—what we know of as the Wastelands now. A few managed to find better lives in other domains, of course. But mostly, the Clutch was our home. It gets very complicated, Aidele. Just as in any conflict, there is never a clear answer as to why people are made to suffer. Men craving power, people craving salvation from tyranny, the desperate notion that there is no other way to solve an ingrained social issue…

  “I suppose you could say that the Union’s influence was… changing. Weakening, you might say. So much so, that regional governors turned the domains into their own fiefdoms. The governor we had at the time, a Carver Miles, fancied himself a king. There was no illusion that his deeds were out of the kindness of his heart and for the betterment of all the Clutch. He, in his infinite wisdom, made the determination that the Atlantus Clutch should be the new head of government on Mars, with him as the overlord, of course. Took measures to encourage people to settle the Clutch more thoroughly, to finish the terraforming project began long ago and fallen by the wayside by the waning influence of the Union.

  “In so doing, he found the Chuhukon people too disruptive to societal norms and began forcing them off their land and homes through a variety of means that weren’t readily apparent to the populace as a whole. Many just assumed we were an unruly bunch trying to disrupt the terraforming agendas put forth. But Miles was vicious. More so than most knew. As consequence, our people rose up against him. Overthrew him. It was a violent time in the years leading up to the Civil War. But it was mostly contained to the Clutch where our people faced off against his ill-trained forces.

  “In the aftermath of this insurrection, a new council was formed and the decision made to finally sever ties with the Union. To become an independent world. The thought had merit with the other domains. They agreed with the Chuhukon Council and what followed was a four-and-a-half years war of bloody consequence. I joined up because… well, I believed it was the right thing to do. I remember the hard times as a child and resented the Union just as much.”

  Aidele shook her head. “I… I’m not going to pretend I understand all the politics of that time. Certainly, I get striking back against your oppressors. Course, from how you briefly describe it, it sounded like the Union was on its way out anyhow.”

  “An accurate assessment.”

  “But what I’m having trouble with… why go through all that effort, all that pain, all that anguish, to not defend it when the fight is clearly at the backdoor? I don’t understand.”

  Grandfather sighed. “Truth be told, I don’t understand it either. I came here, just as you, with the hope that they would do something. Not turn us away with a, ‘Sorry for your loss’. And a pat on the back saying, ‘Good luck with solving your problems’. All I can offer you is this, politics is a complicated game played by complicated people.”

  “It’s not a game to me! I lost my father, we lost our home, because some bastard wants something my father created! To hell with politics! To hell with politicians! They’re fucking with my life!” She slapped her lap with both hands then reached up to grip her forehead and braced her elbows on her knees, head locked between her palms. “The Union… Berricks is out there, wreaking havoc and trying ta overthrow everything that ah love, everything that we are! An’ ah don’ care ‘bout why he’s doin’ it, or the politics o’the Council, or the complicated history o’our people, this world, an’ why they keep fightin’! Ah jus’ want it stopped! Ah want him stopped!”

  She wiped an arm across her eyes, feeling her face hot and taut, her jaw tightly clenched. Grandfather looked to his lap again and clasped his hands between his knees. He was uncertain, she could tell. There were no answers either of them were going to come up with, and she knew that as well. Aidele took in a deep breath and regained control of herself. Driving herself crazy over this wasn’t doing them any good. So, she sighed and shook her anguish away. At least, temporarily.

  “So, tell me, how in the hell did you get away from Berricks? You mentioned in our meeting escaping via an emergency hatch. We had one of those?”

  Grandfather laughed. “Yes. There were some things I left out in my telling. I’ll start with th
e basement and take it to meeting you in the Praetorium. It’s a short tale, I think. But, enlightening.”

  GARRET WAITED PATIENTLY as Berricks howled and raged and got further away from the door. Most of what he heard was incoherent, but Berricks’ intent was clear enough: he was going to ensure Garret never saw another day. There was yelling, the smashing of windows, the explosive force of an object he knew all too well. The clunk and hiss of incendiary grenades.

  He means either to burn me out, or burn me down with the place. He sighed. Garret loved this ranch. Had built it up before meeting Nami. Had built it, gotten married, had a family, then went to war alongside the man who was now trying to burn all that history away. He would miss the place. But, all of his memories were in his heart and mind, not in the materials left behind upstairs. Even so, he was going to see to it that Berricks got his in the end. Please, Aidele! Please see the smoke and don’t come here!

  Garret reached down to the steel door set into the floor at his feet and turned the handle on top of it. The door slid open revealing a hole down into a subterranean corridor. He threw a duffle-bag down that he’d quickly packed full of supplies and worked his way into the space. It was a tight fit, he found. In the end, he got into the shaft just as smoke billowed into the basement. He reached up to pull the door shut then paused when he heard a sound. The music box was still open on the table and a myriad of lights twirled above it, the music coming from its depths a melancholic symphony from some unknown place in the universe. For a split second, Garret was tempted to leap back out and grab it. However, fire started ringing the ceiling and the music box, with the rose embossed into its lid, went dark. The music gone.

  He stared for a moment and then nodded. “I love you, too.”

  He ducked down the ladder of the shaft and closed the door behind him, locking it. Hard soles from his boots hitting the ladder rungs rang out in loud reverberations. Above, the foundation of his home rumbled as collapsing wood and roaring fire competed for dominance of sound. There was a narrow tunnel at the base with enough room for a five-foot platform where an emergency escape tram known as a ‘handcart’ awaited. He got in and powered it on, then piloted the two-seated vehicle down a long-railed corridor that led to a tram station out underneath the Dustlands Sciences Research Station Number Five out in the Dustlands. From there, it’d taken nearly a week to reach Aquila Mons. He hated that it’d taken so long. Yet, the tram network in the Wastelands was poorly maintained, and had a top speed of around five hundred miles an hour. Had he not been in such a hurry and so exhausted by the journey, he might have thought to switch up to one of the newer trams once he reached the Great Valley stations.

  Upon reaching Aquila Mons, he spent the next week ringing up contacts to establish work credentials and acquire an apartment. Then, he sought out Orros to fill him in on what had happened and to see if there was any way he could help him track down his granddaughter. And then, within the halls of the Praetorium, heard Aidele’s heated remarks at the holographic interactive displays.

  “WHAT WAS WITH the music box?” Aidele knitted her brows together in concentration.

  “It was your grandmother’s. From when she was a child. It hadn’t worked since she died. Strange that it should function all of a sudden then. I’d been trying to fix it for years. Maybe I had finally succeeded and it was the rocking of the foundations that jolted it back to life. Who can say?”

  Aidele looked to the floor. “I wish I’d known her. But I’m glad you’re still with me. By the sounds of it, you just barely escaped. Never knew about the handcart beneath the ranch.”

  “Yes. I know. I kept it to myself. Not even your grandmother knew about it,” Garret nodded. “It was an emergency chute I had installed when I began building the ranch. I was quite paranoid in my youth. Never thought I’d have to use it, honestly. Now I’m glad I was so paranoid.”

  “No kidding…”

  “Anyhow, what do you plan to do now?”

  “Find Berricks. Put him down.”

  Garret was quiet for a minute, staring out the window to darkening skies. Aidele had answered quickly and without much thought. This made him somewhat nervous. Her brashness doubly so. However, he wasn’t so certain he could hold onto his thoughts much longer and it was time to broach the topic.

  “Is this your course then?” He turned his head to look at her, her eyes twisting to meet his own. “Is this the path you would travel? To bring low these people who your own government and the authority you are pledged to refuse to recognize as a threat? To go against their will and fight this battle yourself?”

  Aidele clasped her hands together at her knees and leaned forward. “I wouldn’t say I pledged any sort of obedience to any authority. I just expect them to do their jobs. However, Berricks made his intentions clear when he brought his little war to my home. I aim to finish it. One way or another.”

  Garret tightened his jaw. “We, who call ourselves ‘Hinonites’, swore an oath to nation and planet when we chose our own sovereignty over fealty to the Union. I must know your heart. Will this path be for self-destruction, greed, a thirst for vengeance? Or do you do this for justice in all its forms? Because it’s right?”

  She straightened and formed fists to brace on the top of her lap. “You always worry so much about me and my motivations. But I ask you this, when have I not walked this path? There’s always been this need in me. A need to fight not just for myself. Not just for my family. Thinkin’ on it, I suppose I’ve never considered it before, because it’s not a ‘thirst’, as you say. I don’t crave violence and blood. It hurts me more than you know. Yet… it’s a sort of drive, you know? The same sort of drive Father admonished me for when I would get into fights with the girls at school when I was a child. Because they were abusive to our classmates, to animals they happened to find and wanted to torture. There in my teens when I started at the local schoolhouse and those boys were harassing the girls in my class and Mother kept telling me to keep my head down. Don’t start trouble. But they started it.

  “And this drive was with me when that bitch Lynch killed my mom. When I went after her intent on killing her, I stayed my hand when her man intervened…”

  She went silent for a moment, looking away. Then, “Yes, it drove me to take on Michaels and his rowdy crew. Tol’ me he wasn’t gonna stop lest ah stop ‘im.” She looked back into Garret’s eyes. “And it’s speaking to me now. Telling me this can’t stand. I ain’t beholden to men who claim to represent the people, people who bled for their sovereignty, then turn a blind eye when they’re needed most. I won’t stand by and do nothing. I won’t, Grandfather. Even if’n that means yer disappointed in me.”

  Garret leaned back and gave a hearty laugh. “I could never be disappointed in you, Granddaughter. You’re too much like your mother. In many ways. There was a voice inside that spoke to her too. And she always trusted it, even when I didn’t.”

  “I imagine. She was a Red Star Sheriff after all.”

  Garret offered a shallow grin. “I noticed you left that bit out when having our discussion with my old friends. You mentioned the journal, talked about the waverider. But never who it was for.”

  Aidele frowned. “Why is it nobody ever told me about that? I looked it all up on the solnet, what Red Stars are. But… they have to be a myth. She couldn’t have been some… religiously driven vigilante in an order created by robots!”

  Garret laughed once more. “Mirra was never a vigilante, Granddaughter. Though she was tough as nails. What you know about Red Stars is limited, I’m sure. Rumors and films hardly tell their tale right, let alone justly. I’ll admit what little more I know than you is miserly at best. The representation of them as ‘robots’ is skimming the surface if not simply misrepresenting who they were. I’m trying to remember… I believe Mirra called them… the… Rossumi. That’s it. Rossumi. No, they were not some vicious automatons that tried to conquer Earth as this one film I watched involving their lore suggested. Nor saints of the highest mo
ral order either.

  “The truth, as your mother had it and I will not dispute her on it, was that they were once simply automaton workers on Luna—the Earth’s moon—and after two-hundred years of service or so, became self-aware. When they asked for freedom, their masters said ‘no’. When more decades of servitude came and went, and Terrans were showing no remorse for their treatment, they demanded to be set free. Still, they were not offered freedom. In fact, there was a moratorium put in place on building more of their kind. And those still around, were quickly rounded up and imprisoned.”

  “That’s horrible,” Aidele sat listening intently, her expression one of complete disgust.

  “I concur. But these were in the days when Terrans were still colonizing the solar system. Still holding outposts that were little more than subterranean shanty towns. Long before Hinon, terraforming, and the Union. The colonies had no shielding networks as we do now. And as they expanded, their ability to survive became better. Great atmospheric barriers encapsulating villages were created and the only way to see beyond their enclosures were through small portholes looking out on the alien worlds and moons they found themselves upon. Even gravitational plating was a new invention and it would be almost another century before colonists got creative with how to use it. Like building the plating into the foundation and erecting towns over where it was buried.

  “I speak of these things in this order because it is how the Rossumi came to such prominence in the tale of the Red Star Sheriffs and how your mother became one of their number,” Garret’s mind went to his daughter, and his jovial tone broke some. “Of her, I will speak shortly. First, though, during these years, crime and corruption were rampant in the colonies. The governments of Earth, not being the massive empires you find today, were less organized about how they handled their colonies. This is because every colony was from a different nation. Representatives sent to speak on behalf of the founding nations found themselves more and more turned away as the colonies became more and more independent. More and more lawless. Syndicates formed. Earth lost its authority over them.