Colton Cyness and the Gunslingers (Children of the Empire Book 1)

by R. L. Wolf

  Jack waited until Colt was gone and swung his feet out of the bed, and pulled his I.V. along with him to the window. Jack looked out at the Camp, it was nearly identical to the Prison Outcast Camp. Jack realized what cabin he was in. At the Prison Camp, this was the cabin the older Deputies had taken for themselves.

  Jack heard gunshots and tried to see the direction they were coming from. He could just see the edge of the firing range.

  "I knew that was a firing range!" thought Jack.

  The firing range at the prison camp was one of the areas the younger Merits lived, the mounds provided shelter from the wind.

  Jack could see the dining cabin, and it finally dawned on him what the pleasant aroma was. The dining cabin was cooking food. Wes must have gone there to get the soup; there must be real food in there.

  He looked across the ‘no-mans’ land to the Camp Deputy's cabin. There were Merits walking across the open field as easily as walking across the street. You never walked across that open field in front of the Camp Deputy's cabin at the prison camp and took the chance of being caught out in the open.

  Jack thought about the cabins scattered through the woods. Those cabins were dangerous and had to be avoided. The gangs of deputies still in the health of their youth held those cabins. Jack and Tyler usually stayed down at the building he thought might be a horse stable. Things were probably different here, though.

  "Are you supposed to be out of bed?" asked a deep voice.

  Jack spun around and nearly passed out doing so. He started to fall, and a very large bear creature with massive paws for hands grabbed and picked him up. Jack had the strange thought that a giant bear was carrying him away. The bear laid him back down in his bed.

  "Should I get the doctor?” asked the bear.

  Jack shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to make the world stop spinning. The world slowly settled, and he opened his eyes. The giant bear was now a giant boy standing over him.

  "I'm Garth," said the giant bear-boy.

  The giant bear-boy pulled an apple out from under his coat and laid it on the bed next to Jack’s hand.

  "I saw Wes on the way here," said Garth. "He said he was going to the dining cabin to get you some soup. Nobody has ever gotten well eating liquid food. Eat the apple slow. I'll bring you some solid food later."

  "The Doctor said no solid food," said Jack.

  "I'm a Cormon," said Garth, as if that explained everything.

  Jack tipped his head to the side and took a bite of the apple. He chewed on the apple while the giant bear-boy moved the furniture around to suit himself. Jack had to admit, one bite and he felt a lot better. The bear-boy was right, he needed real food.

  "I don't like to play with words," said bear-boy. "Austin and I, we were best friends, and I'm not happy with what happened, but it's done."

  "I don't know what happened, but I'm not Austin, I'm Jack."

  "Fair enough."

  The bear-boy walked towards the door to leave.

  "Thanks."

  "For what?”

  "For not pretending," said Jack. "I know where I stand."

  The bear-boy walked out of the room.

  Jack closed his eyes and waited, he wanted to go to sleep, but he knew there was one more, and would probably be here soon.

  "Are you sleeping?” asked a new voice.

  Jack opened his eyes and looked at who he figured was the last member of his new team. "Naw, I was waiting for you," said Jack.

  "I'm Toran’Sar, the First Merit, how are you feeling,"

  "Tired and hungry."

  "Wes is on his way with some soup."

  "Thanks."

  "Do you feel up to discussing some business?"

  "Sure, it'll keep me awake until the soup gets here."

  "I'm putting together a schedule for the team to bring meals to you."

  Jack lifted himself up on his pillow, and Toran sat down in the chair Colt had been sleeping.

  "I'm trying to figure out the new team assignments," said Toran, "The big problem is that Austin was our pilot and sort of the team detective. He already had his Class 4 license, but I just don't have enough time to send you through flight school."

  Jack kept his face neutral. He didn't want to offend his new team. Jack, like all Daraians, had earned his Class 4 license when he was seven years old. Darai had been at war with the Kesune for five-thousand years, and in all that time the Kesune had never successfully invaded the Daraian Solar System. Mainly because all Daraians could fly circles around Kesune pilots.

  "I'm a Darai," said Jack, trying to sound humble.

  "Yes?"

  "I have a Class 2 Dart license, and a Class 3 Transport license."

  "You have a Class 2 Dart license?” asked Toran amazed.

  "I know, I should have my Class 1, but the Gunslingers picked me up the week before the test, and I missed it."

  “You’re kidding? Are you telling me you’re a trained fighter pilot?”

  Jack nodded. “I’ve been old enough to fly a Red Feather for four years. I was assigned to the fourth wave.”

  Toran looked away. He hadn’t known what the Daraians called it, but he knew what Jack was talking about. Jack was referring to the suicide waves that defended their solar system every time the Kesune attempted another invasion. The first five waves rarely survived. Every man, woman, and child on Darai were expected to fight. Each invasion had cost the Daraians millions of lives to protect their home world.

  "I guess we have our pilot,” said Toran. “Tell me you're a detective and we're all set."

  Jack shrugged. He didn't know what he was, not anymore. He was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open.

  "Hey, I'm back, dinners here," said Wes, coming through the door. He was carrying a small cast iron pot in one hand, and a spoon in the other. He put the pot down on the table next to Jack and lifted the lid. "This smells good."

  Colt walked through the door a moment later carrying a stack of books and dumped them on the bed next to Jack.

  "Okay, plenty of work to get started on," said Colt. "We can take turns tutoring you to get you up to speed."

  Jack looked at the books, and then up at the door. The giant bear-boy was back too and was standing in the door watching everyone. The bear looked mad.

  "That's it!" roared the bear-boy. "Everyone out, or I start pounding heads."

  The others started to complain, but the bear-boy shoved them towards the door.

  "Hey, I've been here for three days guarding him," protested Colt.

  "Yep, you did good," said the bear. "Now get out." Garth threw the books in a corner, slammed the door, and walked over next to Jack. And to Jack's horror, started spoon-feeding him the soup.

  "I thought you didn't like me," said Jack, between swallows of the hot soup.

  "Shut up and eat," said the bear.

  Jack finished the soup, and the bear snatched all but one of Jack's pillows and threw them on the floor. The bear pulled the blankets up around Jack, tucking them under his chin, then went over to sit in the chair.

  "If I could make it so your friend would come back, I would," said Jack.

  "It is what it is," said the bear. "I can feel sorry for myself, or I can have a new friend, now shut up, or I'll put you back in a coma."

  Jack grinned and fell asleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Prison Break

  Something was blocking the door. Colt pushed with his shoulder, and the door opened, pushing a pile of green parkas out of the way. Colt squeezed inside the cabin and stood with his hands on his hips staring at the mess; it was getting worse by the day. Crates, boxes, and containers were scattered all over the cabin, to include piles of just about everything imaginable. Garth was wearing a blue beanie and was kneeling next to a box, rummaging through the contents. Wes was in his normal spot, lying on the floor with his feet up on the couch, and was wearing a green beanie.

  "How?” asked Colt. "He's only lived here for two weeks."
<
br />   "It’s awesome," said Wes. "I think he's building a nest."

  "I don't see the problem," said Garth, holding up a lamp filled with a gooey red liquid. "Everything we could ever need is here."

  "Where is he?” asked Colt.

  Wes pointed up at the ceiling.

  Colt looked up. Jack had refused to sleep in Austin’s old bed and had instead built an odd looking nest in the rafters of the cabin.

  "Jack, could you come down here,"

  Jack appeared at the side of the nest, then gracefully flipped up into a handstand. He held the handstand for a moment, then swung several loops from the rafters as he descended in a move that would have made any gymnast jealous. Jack landed softly on what may have been the only open spot in the entire cabin. Wes clapped enthusiastically.

  "Yes, my glorious Gunslinger," said Jack, flourishing a theatrical bow.

  "What is all this stuff?” asked Colt. "And where are you finding it,"

  Jack grinned and shrugged while Colt lifted the lid on a crate—there must have been a hundred orange beanies inside.

  "Orange beanies," said Colt, picking up one. "What do we need orange beanies for?"

  "I like the green ones," said Wes.

  "They’re used to identify different teams on a Battle Carrier," explained Jack.

  "Are you expecting to have to clothe an entire Carrier crew anytime soon?” asked Colt.

  The door opened, and Toran walked into the cabin, he was wearing a yellow beanie.

  "Oh for the love of the ancestors," said Colt, "not you too,"

  "What?” asked Toran.

  "The yellow beanie," replied Colt.

  "It keeps my ears warm.”

  "You don't have ears.”

  "Sure I do, they just don't look like yours."

  "Jack, where are you getting this stuff?" demanded Colt.

  Jack shifted back and forth on his feet and looked guilty. "Everywhere."

  "He finds the stuff all over the camp," explained Toran. "You know, forgotten stuff in the storehouse and stuff left in closets of different cabins."

  "You're not supposed to go in other cabins," said Colt, worried.

  "I don't, I trade," said Jack, his face clouding into a hurt expression. "I ask what they got and trade."

  "Oh, I'm sorry," said Colt. "I didn't mean to sound like I was accusing you."

  Jack smiled and shrugged. "It's okay, I'm new, and you don't know me, you're just protecting the team."

  "Okay, but still, we don't need a hundred orange beanies," said Colt, waving the orange beanie in the air.

  "I do," said Jack.

  "Why?” asked Colt. He couldn't imagine any reason to have a hundred orange beanies.

  "Trade," said Jack, squinting one eye.

  "With who?” asked Colt. "Who needs that many orange beanies?"

  Jack took a deep breath and...

  "Tomorrow a cargo pilot is taking the beanies to a passing supply ship and getting me five crates of bananas. Then he brings them back here, and I give the bananas to another cargo pilot who will trade me two cases of high-grade lubricant for the bananas. I'll give one barrel to the first pilot, and the second barrel I’ll trade to a Dart pilot for eight cases of Carinian canned mackerels. I then split the mackerels between a desert trader and a miner that passes by the Camp on Thursdays. The trader is giving me five fire opals, and the miner is giving me a bag of tourmaline, and six fox furs, which I'll trade to the mining union for two tons of raw salt. Then on Friday I’ll trade the two tons of salt for two tons of scrap copper engine wire, and Saturday I trade the copper wire to a salvage trader for thirty-two ounces of processed gold bars. On Sunday, I'll trade the gold to the Marshal for a new revolver, gun belt, long rifle and sixteen cases of purple knee socks."

  Colt just stood with his mouth open, wondering what the Marshal was doing with purple knee socks. The rest was all just a blur. Toran walked past Colt and patted him on the shoulder.

  "I think we found Jack’s talent," said Toran, climbing over several crates to get to the stairs of the loft.

  "How will this help us find criminals?” asked Colt.

  "Who cares," said Wes. "He's hilarious."

  "Well, I can trade the purple knee socks to the cook who will trade me for six hams, and I can trade those to a hermit living on the other side of the mountain."

  "Huh?" Colt was beyond confused, all he could see was a mental image of Deputy Hargrath in purple knee socks.

  "The hermit will tell me the location of an outlaw hiding in a cave somewhere nearby. The outlaw thinks no one will look for him next to the Gunslingers, but the hermit wants the outlaw out of his territory, and he really wants the hams. We should be able to pick up the outlaw by next Tuesday."

  Outlaw… Purple Socks… Hermit... Colt's head was spinning.

  "Don't worry," said Jack. "I'll have all this stuff out of the cabin by next week."

  Jack jumped up on one of the crates, and in one leap soared back into the rafters and disappeared into his nest.

  "I need the room for the ostriches anyway," shouted Jack, from the rafters.

  "What?" Colt wasn't sure if Jack was joking.

  "What did you think the two crates of ostrich feed in the shower room was for?” asked Garth.

  "You need to try and keep up," added Wes.

  Colt looked at Austin and Garth, narrowed his eyes and stared at Toran. Toran was being unusually quiet and trying to escape up the stairs. Something wasn't right, they were purposely trying to confuse him. He had missed something.

  “Hold on just a second," shouted Colt.

  Toran froze on the steps, and Jack peeked his head over the edge of his nest at Colt.

  "Why do you need a new gun?” asked Colt. "You have one."

  Jack cringed slightly. "I made a promise, remember. You said I had to keep my promise.”

  “Yes, and I said I would help,” said Colt, sighing. “Okay, tell me what the promise is.”

  “I have to take my old Gunslinger’s gun back and bury it under the rock at the Prison Outcast Camp for Tyler so that he can survive his Death Walk, I promised. And I can’t use Austin’s old gun, it was made for a human and is too big. I need a Darai gun."

  "I already have a plan," said Toran.

  "Let me get this right," said Colt. "You guys want to break into prison and leave a gun for an inmate,"

  "It's the right thing to do," said Garth.

  Colt sighed. “Okay, so how do we get there?” asked Colt.

  "The Dart ship, of course," said Wes.

  "What Dart ship?” asked Colt.

  "The one hidden in the bushes behind our cabin," said Garth.

  Colt held his hands up for everyone to stop. "Since when do we have a Dart ship hidden in the bushes?"

  Colt turned around and stormed out of the cabin. He couldn't think with all four of them ganging up on him. Colt walked along the path next to the river until he came to the bridge that crossed over to his favorite picnic table. The snow wasn't as deep as it had been, but it would still be another month before he could use the picnic table to study here again. Colt idly pushed the snow off the top of the table.

  "Sir, I need to talk with you," said Colt.

  "I’m here.”

  Colt didn't turn around. "You're not real."

  Cold felt a hand rest on his shoulder. The hand felt real, and he could smell the dusty scent of the Gunslinger, he could even hear the Gunslinger breathing.

  "No more riddles," said Colt. "Just tell me what you are."

  "Physically, I'm a Carinian," said Jon Black. "But I'm also the son of the Ocean God."

  "Carina has said he's not a god," said Colt.

  "Most Carinians believe he was speaking metaphorically," replied Jon Black.

  "Was he?"

  "No."

  Colt still hadn't turned around, Jon Black walked around the table to face him.

  "Carina and Corvus came here eons ago, and tried to terraform the worlds in this galaxy," explained Jon Bl
ack. "But, despite their effort, their technology hadn't developed in that direction. So, they allowed the Dragon to help."

  "Wait, there's a god on Corvus? And the Dragon is real?"

  "No, she left Corvus and went to Darai, and yes, the Dragon is real."

  "What about the Father, the one Garth is always talking about, is he real?”

  "Yes, the Father is real. Though, he is an entity even Carina is at a loss to explain."

  Colt shook his head. "What's any of this got to do with me?"

  "Absolutely nothing," said Jon Black. "But now you see what too much information too soon does. Now you're confused, and your belief system has been turned upside down. I’ll remove this memory from you."

  Colt threw his hands over his head. “I knew it. You’ve been tampering with our memories!”

  “When it is necessary.”

  "You're saying I should just accept and do what you say?"

  "It would be easier."

  Colt moved to the other side of the table and finished brushing the snow off the table while he thought through what Jon Black was saying.

  "Where's Austin?" asked Colt.

  "In The Land of the Ancestors."

  "Is that really a place?"

  "It is."

  "Is it nice?"

  "Colt, keep your head in this universe. What did you call me for?"

  Colt sighed. "My Merits want to break into prison, and leave a gun for Jack's old Merit brother."

  "And rightfully they should," said Jon Black.

  "They should?"

  "I did not create a Prison Outcast Camp, over the years it evolved into the perverted and twisted thing it is now," explained Jon Black. "I created a Camp of Reflection, a place where Merits, Deputies, and Gunslingers could go to grieve their loss, and to reflect on their triumphs and failures. It was to be a place to find balance again before moving on to a new team."

  "Why don't you just stop them?” asked Colt.

  "I did once. That is how the Lone Gunslingers came into being," said Jon Black.

  "Oh, that makes sense," said Colt. "The Lone Gunslinger Base is on Raunu. They are failed deputies that were given a second chance. But I didn't know they came from the Outcast Camp, our teachers didn't tell us that part."

  "I showed the Gunslingers the way, but my children are stubborn," said Jon Black. "And I can't carry the whole burden for you."