Ike Shot the Sheriff: Assignment Darklanding

by Scott Moon

  “Was the last sheriff interested in your people’s welfare?”

  The Ungwilook looked at his feet and clasped his hands under his chin. “No, he was very less-ly interested.”

  Thad suppressed a laugh and the urge to ask what Leslie had to do with anything.

  Mast considered his words and continued his statement. “There are many prejudices against our people, but I do not believe that is the reason. Our math is an innate thing. We are very good at it. Humans cannot believe it.”

  Thad adjusted his hat, and started to walk toward the Mother Lode. “Come on, Mast. I think we’ll get along okay. I’m not one to be giving math tests.”

  The sheriff still didn’t have his answer to the processing plant, but he was getting closer, close enough for the day. Mast would come clean in his own good time. In the interim, Thad expected that he’d ask around.

  CHAPTER FOUR: She’s A Little Runaway

  Dixie sipped from a straw, tasting the sugar in the drink as she looked around with just her eyes to make sure no one was watching. She trusted the cook’s discretion, but there were limits. Raw sugar of this quality was worth killing for on Ungwilook. She couldn’t afford it even with her special investments and dividends.

  She sat up straight and smoothed the front of her outfit, making sure to accentuate her form in case anyone was watching. “That is the way soda is supposed to taste. Now if I could just afford a little shot of whiskey in it.”

  She swiveled on the barstool, disappointed she didn’t have an audience. Never one to linger on misfortune, she slid down. The heels of her shoes clacked like tap shoes. Tugging up her bodice with one hand, she pulled down her skirt with the other just far enough to be properly immodest but not a peep show.

  She flipped her hair back. There was nothing happening in the Mother Lode. She passed the rooms in back and went to her office, which had a door leading outside. A long time ago, she had assumed she wouldn’t want anyone knowing her real occupation. Situations changed quickly on frontier worlds, as did power balances and cash flow.

  On the corner of her desk was a Japanese fan—an expensive imitation of a Kabuki original. She picked it up with the flurry and waved it in front of her raised chin, pretending to be exotic. A moment later, she lowered herself into an oversized chair and propped her feet up on the desk.

  A light blinked on her computer station, a sleek device that had been state-of-the-art seven years ago. She’d never really learned to use the thing.

  “Wake up, computer.” The machine struggled to life, then promptly notified her that she had an appointment pending.

  “How pending?” she asked.

  The computer answered in a voice nearly as manly as that of the new sheriff. “Five minutes ago, little lady.”

  She dropped her feet to the floor and sat up straight. Did she have time to change? No. She stood and buttoned her shirt up to hide her bodice cleavage. Then she unbuttoned it lower than before. She smoothed her skirt. She tousled her hair.

  “Oh Frak!” She stepped into her undersized bathroom and brushed her hair. She went for the straight look, which meant her curly frizz was almost wavy and lustrous now—never straight as she wanted. She adjusted the button-line of her sheer blouse to its intended parameters and zipped on the second half of the skirt that covered her just below the knee.

  She moved with purpose to the door. Sure enough, there was a light indicating someone was waiting in the foyer. “Humph.”

  She opened the door and saw a cute girl.

  The girl had auburn hair and the bluest eyes Dixie had possibly ever seen. She stood with her hands clasped in front of her like a little girl, but she wasn’t. Dixie guessed she was probably a teenager. Or she was a teenager trying to pass for a twenty-year-old woman...trying to pass for a girl.

  Dixie frowned. All her current girls were simple and easily managed. The drama tended to involve getting too attached to a patron, but she didn’t think this stranger would do that. She looked like trouble.

  The girl’s white blouse fit snugly. Her black skirt hugged her legs and she wore boots that touch the bottom fabric. On any other planet, it would’ve suggested she worked in the food industry, or possibly as a blackjack dealer.

  On Darklanding it either meant she was rich, or hadn’t been to town before. Everyone wore jumpsuits provided by the company.

  Unless you’re a madam or a CEO, Dixie thought. “Oh, get inside before someone sees you,” she said.

  The girl paused. “I thought your establishment was legal out here on the frontier.”

  Dixie stared at the impertinent child, then updated her assessment. “A lot of things are legal, if your daddy has money. Now come inside or go away.”

  Dixie had fourteen different walks, most of them designed to entice or confuse men. There were a few she had learned that would put other women in their place. She marched toward a desk, neatly turned at the corner, then stood with both palms on the desk as she faced the girl.

  The blue-eyed stranger took her time entering the office. She looked around, entirely too bored and confident for Dixie’s taste.

  Spoiled child.

  “Since you’re so talkative, I have some questions. Be warned, first question, if answered incorrectly, earns you a one-way ticket back to your over-privileged childhood.”

  The girl smiled innocently. “I’m sorry, did I do something? I’m being rude again. It’s my upbringing.”

  “What is your name, girl? What is your real name?” Dixie cursed inwardly. She’d given away the game with the question.

  “My real name is Ruby Miranda,” the girl said.

  Dixie crossed her arms and pressed her lips together as she stared at the so-called Ruby Miranda girl. “You want to work for me?”

  “I thought I might be able to wait tables or be a hostess,” Ruby said.

  “You talk to Pierre about that. Can’t con a con artist, child, you know I run the brothel,” Dixie said.

  The girl folded her hands together and looked at her feet. A tear link from the corner of one eye. “I’m sorry, Madam Dixie. I just did not know where else to go.”

  Dixie moved around the table and stopped before she could help yourself. The poor child.

  “Everybody thinks being rich makes life easy. But it’s not. It’s really hard. Don’t make me talk about why I ran away,” Ruby said.

  Against her better judgment, Dixie stepped forward and gave the girl a hug, realizing then how short and delicate she was. Dixie wasn’t exactly tall, but this new girl only came up to her chin.

  Ruby tensed, then slowly put her arms around Dixie and started to cry. Head down, her words were unintelligible.

  “There, there, child. Us girls have to keep our secrets. You’re safe now. No one messes with Dixie here in the Mother Lode. “

  Ruby sniffled and tried to pull away. Dixie held her tighter.

  “I mmrm wnnrm ayy here,” Ruby murmured into Dixie’s cleavage.

  “Everything is going to be all right now, child,” Dixie said as she patted Ruby Miranda’s back with one hand.

  CHAPTER FIVE: Enforcement

  Thad sipped his post-workout drink—frontier whiskey in a shot glass. He wanted to toss it back and feel the burn, but understood from experience that he might be wise to ease into the local toxins. And the price tag was truly breathtaking.

  He had released Mast on family business. Now it was time to unwind and study the locals.

  Two years hadn’t seemed like a long time to complete his duty obligation when he accepted the assignment to Darklanding. How dangerous could it be compared to Centauri Prime?

  Probably every bit as much. Head on a swivel, Fry man, he reminded himself.

  He put down the glass and sat up straighter. There were places, things, and events he didn’t let himself think about while drinking. The glass would remain on the bar until he changed his frame of mind.

  Dixie strode in with a businesslike stride he’d never seen before. Her ample curves looke
d good. She showed less cleavage, less thigh, and more purpose. A subtle expression, stern but motherly, glinted in her eyes as her high heels tapped the wood floor.

  Thaddeus motioned for another drink but kept his eyes on the unfolding scene.

  Shaunte pushed through the swinging doors at the front of the Mother Lode bar like an old west gunslinger, barely slowing down—ignoring Thad completely.

  I must be off my game. Thaddeus didn’t think either woman was looking for the other, but their converging vectors reminded Thad of two meteors entering the same space.

  Dixie stopped, facing Shaunte, and drew herself up as tall as she could, throwing an imperious glare at Shaunte who tossed it right back at her. It looked like a photo op of two cage fighters who were set to compete for the title. Never mind that they were socially and professionally on opposite ends of the spectrum. In this moment, they were two women ready to take out their frustrations on any easy target.

  Both women spoke simultaneously in the language of women where words meant more than they seemed.

  “Well!” they said, turning sharply and veering away from each other at ninety-degree angles.

  Thad watched Dixie approach Pierre and give him a stern lecture on a topic he apparently knew nothing about. A fragment of the conversation reached Thad’s ears.

  “I’m warning you, mister. This one’s different and has my special protection,” Dixie said.

  Still interested in their conversation, Thad reluctantly pulled his eyes away and saw Shaunte pacing with her hands on her hips. Her dilemma was easier to understand. He could tell when she was fighting the bottom line. As the Company Man, she had deadlines to meet and profit margins to maintain.

  Dixie left, probably for her apartment above the little office she kept in the back of the building. Thad wasn’t really sure. He sat back and sipped his whiskey, planning to enjoy the show.

  And that was when the trouble began.

  Mast arrived, as tall and polite as ever. He offered no explanation as to where he had been, but sat next to Thad, looming over him like a tall, skinny tree.

  At the same time, Shaunte moved forward in Dixie’s wake and harangued Pierre about some financial matter.

  “Relax, Shaunte. Have a seat at your usual table. I’ll bring you a salad,” Pierre said.

  “Oh God, no. Not the deadly Darklanding salad,” she said.

  Thaddeus was curious about what a concoction that might be, but shifted his attention to a scar-faced stranger at the front door.

  The man was average height, perhaps a little shorter. He was solid and had a slight gut. He had rough, workman’s hands and a brawler’s face. He lacked stripes or markings on his jumpsuit. The color was so faded, Thaddeus wasn’t sure what the man’s work class was.

  Several men gathered around him, talking and laughing like he was their best friend, then took tables not far from Shaunte. Thaddeus knew there would be trouble as soon as they started getting loud and groping the young women serving drinks and food.

  That man is an instigator, Thad thought.

  Dixie returned and slid onto her barstool, which always accentuated her moderate height. She had slightly tousled her hair, and unbuttoned her bodice significantly. Her skirt rode up on her left leg.

  The stranger laughed loudly with his entourage. Several pitchers of beer were shared amongst the group. The stranger never lifted a glass. He leaned back in his chair so that two legs were off the floor as he talked with his hands clasped behind his head.

  Thaddeus waited for his chance, then met the stranger’s eyes. He stared at the man for several seconds. The story the man was telling faltered but he quickly regained his momentum, swinging for the cheap seats as it were.

  Shaunte, digital tablets and paper documents spread across her usual table, pushed her glasses up onto her forehead and squeezed the bridge of her nose. She abruptly stood and crossed the distance between her table and the boisterous crowd of newcomers led by the stranger.

  Thaddeus massaged the back of his neck and steeled himself for trouble.

  “I know who you are, and what you are. You’re not needed here,” Shaunte said, squaring her shoulders to make the most of her diminutive stature as she faced the stranger. “You’re not needed, and not in the budget.”

  One of the ruffians laughed and gestured toward the stranger. “Did you hear that, Ike? She knows who you are. And doesn’t want to pay you.”

  Ike’s rough face bore a scar from ear to chin by way of the bridge of his nose. His teeth were surprisingly good, if not for one missing in the front. Leather-skinned and mean-eyed, he smiled at Shaunte with a narrowed gaze that was more intimate than appropriate. He smoothed his plain workman’s jumpsuit with one hand as he stood up.

  “That’s all right, Toy. I’m set up all right. Man like me just does what needs doing when it needs to be done,” the stranger called Ike said.

  Shaunte crossed her arms and lowered her chin. “I’m warning you, Ike, you had better not cross me. I run a tight show here, and there’s no need for trouble.”

  Ike looked around, somehow making his entire crew laugh loud enough to shake the walls. “Yeah, it looks like it.”

  Thaddeus pushed his shot glass back to Pierre. “Wait about two minutes, then fill that glass and push it back to my seat.”

  He took his time facing the scene, then walked forward knowing once he began, there was no turning back and no slowing down. Hesitation would be as bad as running away. “Mast, I want you to hang off my left flank and try to look tough. Don’t say anything. “

  The tall Unglok moved very near to him and walked so close he almost touched Thad’s left buttocks.

  Thaddeus pointed towards the left wall. “Stand over there. Watch my back.”

  “I will very muchly do my best.”

  Ike’s crew stepped aside to form a clear space as though Ike was some type of duke or king holding audience.

  Thaddeus stopped short, refusing to enter Ike’s small area of influence as a supplicant.

  Silence spread across the room.

  Ike sat in his chair, but leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You the lawman?”

  Thaddeus looked at Shaunte, not really liking where she was positioned. If a brawl broke out, she was going to be stampeded or hit with flying bottles. He wondered if he should flip up the table for cover and draw his sidearm.

  “Cat got your tongue, lawman?” Ike said.

  Thaddeus looked him straight in the eyes. “You ever fight your way up a hill so slick with blood, you had to jam your boot knife into the dirt to pull yourself upward?”

  Ike rolled his eyes, then looked around the room as he got to his feet. He took a step forward and hooked his fingers into the belt of his jumpsuit. “I might have. You think I got these scars working for SagCon? Digging buddies out of mines or toiling in the fields on one of the agricultural planets?” He spat on the floor.

  “Don’t know, don’t care. Point is this. I can read you like a book, and I know more about you than your friends do.” Thaddeus faced the silent crowd. “You might think real hard before you do his fighting.”

  Ike stepped forward, chest out and hands clenched into fists at his side. “I never needed anyone to fight for me, lawman. Not even against the lawman, if that’s what you even are. Look more like a security guard for SagCon.”

  Without moving his feet or changing his stance, Thad lashed with his forearm across the side of Ike’s neck, hammering his brachial nerve. Ike went down like a sack of rocks, revived about the time he hit the ground, and sprang quickly to his feet as he stumbled backward.

  It was a good recovery even though the man was in no state to do anything besides maybe crap his pants. Most of the tough guys Thaddeus knocked out stayed on the ground until a medic revived them.

  “That’s enough fighting!” Shaunte shouted.

  Thaddeus lifted one hand toward her, hoping she would be quiet and let him handle this. She wasn’t wrong. As the Company Man, she needed to ass
ert her power and influence. It would’ve been better if she hadn’t been there to see this or participate. Thaddeus needed to put these dogs in their places before they became a constant problem.

  Ike shook off several people who tried to help him stand. “You’re the law. You can’t do that. Hit a man for no reason,” Ike said as he marched forward.

  With his left hand, Thaddeus slapped him across his face, knocking him off his feet.

  This time when Ike stood up, he was laughing slightly. “Okay, all right, I get it. You’re one of them sheriffs. Real frontier type.”

  Thaddeus stared at him, feet placed just wide enough to be in a fighting or shooting stance, hands at his side but ready to do what was needed, whether that be punch or draw and shoot.

  Ike raised both hands as he backed up, silently queuing his posse to retreat toward the front door. “It’s all right. We’re good. Didn’t come here for no trouble. Law and order are good for a mining dump like this.”

  CHAPTER SIX: T-R-O-U-B-L-E

  Ruby Miranda hated sitting on the barstool, and hated the clothing Dixie had selected for her even more. The skirt was more of a belt and the boots barely reached her knees. Her slim gymnast’s body looked too athletic for some of the men in this crowd, she guessed. The top was interesting. It took her fifteen minutes to figure out how to wear it, during which time she realized there was more fabric covering her arms than the rest of her. It pushed and pulled until she had cleavage and a stomach flatter than the bar behind her. Right now, she was concentrating on staying relaxed and not flexing her abdominal muscles because that always drew hoots and hollers from the patrons.

  Dixie started over, drawing the eyes of every man she passed, and set her ample form on the barstool next to Ruby. “I don’t have the budget to thicken you up, but will figure something out. You’re like a refugee. So skinny.”

  Ruby sipped her drink and looked for Ike in the crowd. She had never met him in person, but knew his face from her research.

  “Youth will only last you so long, honey. You need to think ahead and learn from someone who has seen it all,” Dixie said.