by John Bowers
“Do they leave?”
“Now and then one does. But these serfs are pretty family oriented. They mostly stay together. Hell, I’ve got families of three and four generations living here.”
“What about education? I haven’t seen any schools yet.”
“We provide primary education for serf children, plus the technical training. Secondary education is optional, and most don’t want it. Here in Kline Corners we have primary and secondary. We have a nice little school over on D Street, with eight teachers.”
Nick looked at him thoughtfully.
“Well, it sounds like you provide all the basics,” he said. “But what about advanced education? If someone wanted to make his way in the rest of the galaxy, what kind of preparation does he have?”
Kline spread his hands.
“Hell, Marshal, this is a small town. We’re on the frontier; we can’t provide everything. Anyone who wants to go to the university can do so. Over the years I’ve helped a couple of dozen kids get in, and paid part of their tuition. Mostly girls.
“I take care of my people, Marshal. People are very important to me. Without them I can’t run my operation, and I have to make it worth their while, even if they want to leave. If I don’t—if I mistreat even one person—then others will see it and they’ll leave, too.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”
“Maybe not all of it, but a lot of it. And I keep trying to figure it out.” Kline smiled. “How about a cup of coffee?”
“You grow that here, too?”
“No. Imported from Brazil, just like on Terra.” He motioned to Kristina Norgaard, who was serving their table. “Two coffees, honey.”
To Nick, he added, “Sirius Ag grows coffee up in the high delta near the Alps, but it just doesn’t match Brazilian coffee. I’m from Texas, and I grew up on Brazilian. Never lost my taste for it.”
Kristina brought the coffee and Nick sipped it, savoring the deep roasted flavor.
“Marshal, a lot of people these days like to think of a man like me as selfish, motivated only by money. Well, in a way they may be right. But I also employ people. Lots of people. If I make money, they make a living. Nobody gets rich working for me, but it costs a lot of money to operate, and I don’t have that much left over. The bottom line is, we all get to eat.”
Nick smiled easily. “I’ve never been one for class envy, Mr. Kline. I don’t care how rich you are or how rich you get. As long as you operate fairly and treat your people well, you won’t get any trouble from me.”
“Even if I bend your Federation laws now and then?”
“I didn’t say that. I think that, in most cases, you can find a way to run your business and not break any laws. Even in the example you cited.”
Kline folded his arms and leaned back.
“Okay. How would you handle an emergency like that?”
Nick shrugged. “Surely you know when the crops are due. Seems you might be able to hire seasonal labor.”
“Like who? Where would I get them? Everybody for a thousand miles in every direction is already employed. If I brought people in the expense would be too great, and I can’t afford to pay extra people to stand around most of the year just so I’ll have them for the harvest.”
“How much of your operation is automated?”
“About fifty percent. If I automated everything I’d leave a couple of thousand locals out of work. Plus, robotics are damned expensive, and in most cases physical labor does the job just as well.”
“But it also means that from time to time you come up short-handed.”
“That’s right.”
“Looks like I’m too late for supper,” a new voice said, and Nick looked up to see Sheriff Blake standing at Kline’s elbow. Kline also looked up.
“Hell, Roy, sit down anyway. We’ve got some leftovers and there’s plenty of coffee!”
With a nod at Nick, the sheriff drew back a chair and sat down, placing his hat on his knee.
“I see you’ve met the new marshal,” he said to Kline.
“Yes, I have. We’ve been getting acquainted. I like his attitude.”
Blake smiled and looked at Nick.
“Looks like you’ve been sampling the local cuisine. How’d you like it?”
“Best meal I’ve eaten in a couple of years,” Nick said.
“Kline Corners may have its drawbacks, but good grub isn’t one of ‘em. Opened up your office yet?”
“Not yet.”
Kristina brought the sheriff a cup of coffee. Blake sipped it, then turned to Kline.
“Marshal Walker tells me his first priority is to find out who killed Ron Gates,” he said conversationally.
“Well, I hope he does. God knows you didn’t get very far!”
“Wasn’t much to go on,” Blake replied defensively.
“Just the same, I hope you’ll give him any assistance you can. Whoever did it is still around somewhere. Wouldn’t want the same thing to happen to Walker here. Best to catch the killer and put him away.” He gave Blake a piercing stare. “You’ve got the time, don’t you? If Walker needs your help?”
Blake made a wry face and nodded. “Sure. Not much enforcement needed for anything else.” He grinned at Nick. “Anything you need. I worked real close with Gates, too. He was a good man.”
“Thanks.” Nick pushed back his chair. “Well, I’ve had a long day, and I’m still suffering warp lag. I think I’ll call it a day.” He got to his feet and shook hands with both men. “It was good talking with you, Mr. Kline. Sheriff, I’ll drop by to see you tomorrow.”
“Welcome to Kline Corners,” Willard Kline said. “Hope you enjoy your assignment here.”
“I’m already finding it interesting.”
Nick put his hat on carefully, still feeling awkward under it, and walked over to the bar. Suzanne Norgaard offered him a faint smile.
“Is Kristina around? I wanted to tip her for serving our table.”
“She’s on her break right now. I’ll give it to her.”
Nick handed her some cash and smiled.
“Nice to meet you, Suzanne.”
“We open for breakfast at 0500,” she said.
“I’ll be around.” He turned and walked out the front door.
Much to his surprise, it was already dark outside. Lights were on in several buildings along the street and here and there people were moving about. Nick glanced at his wristwatch, but it wasn’t even 1800. Considering the heat, he’d expected the day to last much longer, but he had to remember that Sirius 1’s rotation and orbital patterns weren’t the same as Terra’s. He would have to get used to an entirely different standard.
With a yawn, he was about to head back to the hotel when he heard a sound like someone gasping—it came from his left. Senses alert, he turned that way. A half-dozen steps brought him to the end of the building, and he stopped, listening. He heard it again, and saw a narrow alley between the Vega and Green’s Garage. It wasn’t even an alley, really, just a separation between the buildings, about eight feet wide. He turned into the alley and listened intently. It sounded like someone might be injured.
In the absolute darkness he could see nothing. He wished for his IR contacts, but they were in his equipment at the hotel. The only night vision gear he had was the strobe torch hanging from his gunbelt. He pulled it free and held it ready, leaving it off as he drew his laser pistol with his right hand.
Nick felt his adrenaline surge as he stepped between the buildings and walked slowly, quietly. Ten feet. The sound was louder, more intense. Twenty feet. Louder still, but now it sounded different. Instead of gasping, it sounded more like ...
Another step, another. Now he could sense, more than see, someone standing against the building. Another step, and there were two outlines. He could hear the moaning clearly now, interspersed with small smacking sounds.
Nick pointed the strobe torch toward the double shadow against the wall. With his laser aimed and ready, he
thumbed the switch. The light flooded the narrow space like a nuclear flare, bathing the two figures in stark naked light.
“U.F. Marshal!” Nick said forcefully, “freeze!”
But then he froze instead.
It was almost embarrassing. He quickly switched the light off and wished he’d never turned it on. But the damage was done. The minute the light had come on the girl had screamed in panic; the boy had jumped in front of the girl to block her from Nick’s view. But not before Nick got an unforgettable glimpse of white teenage breasts and long blonde hair. He stood there in indecision, holstering his pistol. He could hear Kristina whimpering and the boy panting with fear.
“Don’t move, you two,” he said quietly. “Calm down, now.”
“What’re you gonna do to us?” the boy asked, and though Nick hadn’t seen his face, he recognized the voice.
“Nathan, are you hurting her?”
“No! Leave her out of it. If you have to arrest anyone, arrest me. Let her go back inside.”
“Does her mother know she’s out here?”
“No. Please, Marshal, don’t tell her. Take me if you want, but don’t get Kristina in trouble.”
Nick moved closer. He could see them distinctly now, shadowy in the gloom. The girl was still whimpering, but had quieted a little, though both were breathing hard from the shock of discovery.
“Kristina, tell me you were a willing party to this and I won’t say a word to your mother. Did he force you in any way?”
“No.” She was still buttoning her blouse, then tossed her head as if that familiar action would somehow restore her dignity.
“All right. You go inside. I want to talk to Nathan.”
Kristina looked at Nathan briefly, and he nodded. She kissed him, then disappeared through the door where they’d been standing. As soon as she was gone, Nick took the boy’s arm and walked him back toward the street.
“What now, Marshal?” The boy was clearly still scared.
“Nothing now. There’s no law against teenage love. It is love, isn’t it?”
“Yes. We weren’t really doing anything.”
“Well…I wouldn’t say you weren’t doing anything. I saw a pretty nice pair of tits back there. Have you two been having sex?”
“Not yet. She wants to wait until we’re married.”
Nick stopped and turned, facing him.
“You keep petting like that and you’ll never make it. At a certain point things start to happen that you can’t stop. Trust me.”
“I’d never do that to her.”
“Not just you, Nathan. She won’t be able to stop, either, and then you’ll do it again, and again, and first thing you know you’ll be parents. If that’s what you want, fine, but if it isn’t ...”
“I want to marry her.”
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“And she’s sixteen.”
“Yes.”
“How long before you can get married?”
Nathan was silent a moment, then shook his head.
“Maybe never. Her mother hates me. We have to sneak around just for a kiss.”
“How long you been doing that?”
“A few months.”
Nick heaved a sigh and stared out at the street. They were still between the buildings where no one could see them.
“Nathan, I’m not your father. I can’t tell you what to do, but as a friend I will advise you to cool it off. If you don’t, Kristina is going to end up getting hurt, and so will you. Some mistakes you can recover from. Having an unwanted baby isn’t one of them.”
The boy said nothing.
“The only alternative is to get her hypno-protected, but I don’t think she can do that without Suzanne’s consent, and from what you say that doesn’t sound likely.” He clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s a bitch being young, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Believe it or not, I still remember.”
Nathan looked up at him. “What did you do about it?”
“I joined the Star Marines. Never saw her again. Last I heard she’d been married three times and had six kids.”
“I’ll never leave Kristina. Not if I have a choice.”
“She is god-awful pretty,” Nick admitted.
“It’s more than just that. She loves me. We understand each other.”
“I don’t have any easy answers for you,” Nick said gently. “Except don’t do anything you’ll be sorry for. If you ever need to talk, the door will be open.”
Nathan looked at him in surprise. “Is that it? You’re letting me go?”
“Of course. You’re not a criminal, are you?”
“And you’re not going to tell anyone about us?”
“I suspect more people already know than you realize. If they don’t, it’s not my place to tell them.”
“God, Marshal! Thank you!”
“You take care of yourself. And Kristina.”
“I will.”
Nathan turned and walked to the street, turning toward the garage. Nick watched him go, waited a full minute, then followed, turning toward the hotel. Ironic, he thought—his first investigation as U.F. Marshal in Kline Corners—breaking up a love tryst between two kids. He hoped all the problems here would be that simple.
Chapter 5
Frontier worlds are often fertile grounds for shady activity. The most common such activity is prostitution. You may consider prostitution immoral, but remember that it is legal. Your job is to enforce the law, not to make moral judgments.
Page 133, U.F. Marshal Handbook
Nick was relieved to get back to his hotel room. He was pretty close to exhaustion and wanted nothing at the moment more than a long sleep. With a sigh he hung up the gunbelt and sat down to kick off his boots. He’d just completed that when he heard a tap at the door. Surprised and a little annoyed, he walked over and pushed the release button.
The visitor was a young woman whose eyes were far too wise for her apparent age. She leaned casually against the doorframe.
“You the new marshal?” she asked.
“Looks that way.”
“Sam told me you moved in. I live in Number 3. Mind if I come in?”
“I might. Who are you?”
“I’m Judy.”
“Just Judy?”
“As far as anyone knows. My last name is Norris, but most people don’t care. The last person to ask my name was Ron Gates.”
Nick stepped to one side and she slunk into the room, looking around as if she’d never seen it before. He closed the door and stood watching her.
She finished her inspection, then turned to face him.
Nick judged her to be about twenty, short and petite but very well put together. She wasn’t beautiful, not even really very pretty, but she made the most of what she did have; her best feature was her light brown hair, which was thick and shaggy and cascaded over her forehead and shoulders like a waterfall. The overall effect was extremely erotic.
“Were you a friend of Marshal Gates?”
She smiled seductively. “Oh, yes. A good friend.”
“Really. And just what is it that you do?” He already had a pretty good idea.
“Oh, you might say my line of work is similar to yours.”
“In what way?”
“Crime prevention.”
Nick’s eyebrows rose and he waited for the explanation that was sure to come.
“I specialize,” she told him, sitting down on the bed. “I prevent rape.”
He nodded. “And how do you do that?”
“I make it…unnecessary.”
“Is there a lot of rape around here?”
“Not anymore.”
“So you came calling as a professional courtesy?”
She laughed. It wasn’t a spontaneous laugh, but studied, part of the effect she wanted to create—husky and throaty, seductive.
“Yeah. That’s why I came by.”
Nick nodd
ed. “I think I understand.”
“I was sure you would.”
He should throw her out, but instead he peeled off his shirt and moved toward the closet to throw it inside. She watched him with interest, her eyes sparkling a little.
“What you’re telling me,” he said, “is that you’re the town hooker and my predecessor was screwing you.”
She frowned. “What’s a hooker?”
“You don’t know what a hooker is? It’s a common term in the Federation. Hooker, whore, prostitute.”
“I’m not a prostitute. I prefer the term ‘substitute wife’. For men who don’t have one. Keeps them from bothering someone else’s wife.”
“And the men who do have wives?”
She turned sullen, as if he had offended her.
“I don’t turn anyone down.”
Silence hung between them for a moment. She filled the time by running a hand suggestively across the bed.
“Serfs, too?” he asked.
She sprang off the bed like a cat, teeth bared, lunging at him with her nails. Startled, Nick barely had time to grab her wrist before she could claw at his eyes. Using her momentum against her, he swung her around and slingshot her back toward the bed, where she landed heavily but uninjured. She tried to struggle up but he grabbed her wrists and held them in an iron grip, keeping well clear of her knees, until she stopped fighting.
“You said you don’t turn anyone down,” he said. “I was just asking.”
“I may be a whore!” she snarled furiously, “but I’m not a goddamned pervert! Don’t you ever accuse me of that again!”
“I didn’t accuse you of anything. I just asked. I guess the answer is no.”
He let go and backed away from her. She lay panting heavily. “You have to remember, I’m new here,” he told her. “I don’t know all the customs yet. I wasn’t trying to insult you.”
She pulled herself into a sitting position, ran her fingers through her hair to return it to its previous state, eyeing him closely.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I would never sleep with a serf. I guess you couldn’t have known that.”
“But you were sleeping with Ron Gates.”
She nodded. “He wasn’t married and I live just down the hall.”
“Do you know who killed him?”