“That’s downright unfriendly for a sheriff, considering I am not your boy, and I’m spending my good, hard earned credits at your port.” Didn’t matter how far apart the colony worlds were, the first accords made credit chits universal currency and preferred for financing interstellar purchases.
“Your ship can earn us more for scrap, too.” Apparently, they were all done playing nice.
Worked for Shaw. The sheriff closed the distance between them and used the shotgun to gesture for him to backup. The problem with using a weapon to point meant it wasn’t always directed at the target. In fact, when the sheriff gave it a jerk again to motion him away, the barrel aimed at the sky. Shaw caught the barrel, and kept it pointed upward as he gave it a hard tug and withdrew his pistol in the same breath.
Startled, the wannabe lawman released his weapon then gulped when he saw the laser pistol barrel right between his eyes.
“I’d tell you what you were doing wrong, but I like to keep my interactions polite.” Not to mention more words required more breathing in the man’s too smelly presence. “So, let me be clear. This gun won’t make a bang so much as a sizzle as it fries through your skull and incinerates what brain matter you might be possessing. You catch my drift?”
With fumbling fingers, the man stripped off his abused star and tossed it on the ground. “Ain’t no job worth this,” the man sputtered. “I quit.”
“Well, I’m sure these townsfolk will be real interested to hear that you don’t want the job of protecting them no more. Not seeing it as their loss.” Shaw studied him. Sweat beaded along the man’s forehead and ran down his face in rivulets. His gaze kept darting to the interfaith center. Without removing his weapon from the man’s forehead, Shaw used his chin to gesture the man to walk. Circling with the man, he flipped the shotgun so it landed with his finger over the trigger and pointed at the door of the center just as it opened.
“Come on out and join us, Winston.”
It shouldn’t have surprised Shaw to learn that the seedy fuel dealer had something going on in the town considering the unkempt condition of both the so-called port and the town itself.
Winston stomped out onto the boardwalk. “You’re going to regret this.”
“I kind of already do,” Shaw replied and kept his tone even. His datalink vibrated three times. The scanners on his ship detected three more weapons. “And for that you have my apology.” He gave Marshal Stinky a shove, sending him right into Winston even as Shaw threw himself sideways.
The bullets kicked up the mud and sent it spattering. A meaty thunk, and a less than manly yowl warned him that the rapid fire projectiles found their mark in one or both of the two men. A woman’s scream, soon joined by another, filled the building behind him.
Rolling, Shaw brought his pistol up just as another bullet slammed into the boardwalk next to him, splintering the wood. Ignoring the sharp pain of a scrape across his cheek, he targeted where the gunfire came from and returned fire of his own.
The laser had no kick, but it did make a decent sized hole in the second story of the shop. A man let out a shout, then tumbled through the glass along with his weapon and hit the mud with a splat. Rising, Shaw checked his datalink as he caught sight of Winston trying to crawl away. A blast to his right leg, just above the knee had the man screaming and aborted his escape effort.
The last two weapons were coming in at speed from the opposite side of town. Spinning, Shaw had his pistol and shotgun ready even as the roar of a motor warned him of their approach. He gave them a split second but, at the sight of their weapons pointed at him, he opened fire on the bike itself. The fuel tank went up like a jetpack at launch and flung metal and men into a fiery ball. The rain of debris left a hell of a mess in the middle of the muddy row.
Another glance at his datalink screen showed no red signatures for weapons, only orange for people. The buildings around him were stocked with them, especially the interfaith center. Moseying down to where Winston left a bloody trail on the path, Shaw stepped on his wounded leg, making the man let out a whimpering cry.
“It would seem, Winston, that we’ve come to a parting of ways. The only question I have is do I finish the task or do I just ask the good people of this town?”
“Go to hell, you bastard.”
“I hope you don’t kiss your momma with that mouth.” After grinding his foot into the wound once more for good measure, Shaw leaned over and knocked on the door. “It’s all clear folks. Y’all can come out now.”
A woman appeared in the open doorway, her dirty face bruised and tear streaked, but a fiery anger simmered in her brown eyes. “Who are you?”
Hoping she wasn’t on the side of the men he’d just dealt with, Shaw nodded to her as politely as he could manage while still carrying a weapon in each hand. “Shaw Sullivan, ma’am. Hope I haven’t done more harm than good, but these men didn’t appear to have your town’s honest interests at heart.”
The woman looked from him to the downed wannabe lawman who’d taken a bullet to the heart and dropped dead where he’d fallen then to Winston, who lay in a moaning heap. Pulling the door open wider, she stepped outside and glanced at the dead man across the street, then to the still burning wreckage of the bike with what was left of its pair of extremely dead riders.
Miss Brown Eyes gave Shaw another look and he backed away a pace respectfully, but he didn’t lower the weapons. The town had already had five very unpleasant surprises. He didn’t fancy meeting another unarmed.
She walked over to where Winston lay muttering pitifully, and lifted her skirt lightly as though taking care not to get any blood on it before she delivered a swift kick to the man’s head.
“He’s right,” she called in a strong voice. “We’re safe! Y’all come on out! We have our town back.”
Shaw nodded to himself, satisfied with the result until the people spilled out in a chattering flow and surrounded him. Miss Brown Eyes rushed over to him and threw her arms around him.
“Our hero!”
Oh, hell no.
2
Rule #16: If your only choices are be fast or be accurate, don’t bother.
* * *
“EA114 log—pirates took over town of Paradise, holding more than ten thousand souls hostage by gutting their wireless access and collecting all the town’s weapons. Town elders and newborns were also held separate to manage the townsfolk behavior. A minor incident resulted in the overthrow of the pirates, returning control to the locals. Assistance from the town of Eden promised. Full accounting of population restricted to estimations. See attached requisition forms for supplies. Setting planetary condition to orange per request of Eden Provost and Paradise Mayor. Other details to follow. End transmission.”
“End transmission?” Jo Rayder’s husky laughter echoed over his comms. “You know the big boys back at Earth Prime are gonna get their panties in a twist at the other details to follow line, doncha, Shaw?”
“Not my problem,” he assured her. “My job is to report population and resources. If the townsfolk need time for their signal to reach a Red Cross cruiser and bring it into the area, that’s not really critical to the mission.”
“Uh huh, sugar. You keep telling yourself that. Don’t suppose you had anything to do with the minor incident?” A communications operator at Titan’s Deep Space Observation depot and his only constant companion since beginning his journey, Jo enjoyed needling him. Or as she confessed to him during the onerously long trek from the edge of Earth Prime’s solar system, it was one of the perks of being his main contact to home. The depot managed more than just his flight, coordinating dozens of other census takers making their four-year treks into the galaxy to catalogue hundreds of colony worlds.
“No idea what you’re talking about, gorgeous. I just did my job.” And made sure to transfer the credits into the account of the actual townsfolk after reclaiming the chit from Winston. The pirates had drained most of their fuel stores, but Eden promised to help Paradise out, and sinc
e Shaw had paid double the normal cost of fuel, they had plenty of credits to bring in supplies. The town would be fine—or at least as fine as they could manage. “I’ll be engaging the Rosen Engine soon. Did you find those entertainment disks I asked for?”
“Aww, sweetie. I’m proud of you, though you shouldn’t be taking such chances when all you need to do is run a quick scan from orbit, then move on unless they’ve upgraded their tech or built more than two cities.”
Yeah, neither Eden nor Paradise counted as cities and had gone backward. Sure, he could have done his scan and moved on, but if he had to be on this damn pony express to the stars, he could at least get out and stretch his legs from time to time. If the planet hadn’t had supply pirates, he might have even broken Thunder out for a ride.
“Yeah, yeah. Entertainment disks?” He’d already burned through the reading material he’d brought with him, and if he had to watch the same season of Guild Changelings one more time, he might off himself.
“I found them for you, sugar. I’m ready to transmit to Zed, if you open a channel for me.”
“I owe you one, beautiful.” He set his palm against the bio-scanner. “Zed, prepare to accept data packet from Titan Deep Space Depot, authorization Sullivan, Shaw.”
“Acknowledged, Captain. Please stand by.” The computronic voice possessed a Commonwealth accent, one the techs ignored his requests to remove. “Channel established, download proceeding. Material will take 1.7 solar hours to receive in full.”
Time to grab a shower, then. “Good to know. While that runs, lay in a Rosen plot for EA143 and populate the briefing book.” Depending on what Jo found for him, he wouldn’t be reading it anytime soon. Still, access to some knowledge was better than none.
“You’re heading to New Genesis?”
Ah hell, he hadn’t killed the voice channel to Jo. “Yeah, it’s next up on the star chart. You’d think they’d come up with more interesting names than new anything, ya know?” Shaw swung around in the pilot chair to check Zed’s course plotting as it scrolled across the screen. He was still in orbit around EA114, and could have stayed on the planet a few more hours. He’d had plenty of offers for food, drink, and companionship—male and female—which he didn’t mind. The constant cheering and calling him a hero did.
“Now, sugar, you know culture plays as big of a part in these colonial worlds as the resources available on the planets they chose.” Good humor was more welcome than anything else on his journey.
“You’re pre-supposing they chose these worlds at all. Some just got the luck of the draw.” The global lottery sent boatloads of passengers off with only a bag of personal belongings and a chamber to keep them in cold sleep, while their freighters carried them off to their destinations.
“That’s still a choice. Lottery required pre-purchased opportunities. How else did you think they financed those junkers?” She had a fair point. “I have some calls on hold, so I should get to them. Any requests for your next check-in?”
Since it would be another five weeks out, Shaw considered it. “Comedy. I’ll need a laugh by then.”
“You got it, sugar. Fly safe.”
“Peace.”
The channel went quiet, and Shaw blew out a breath. “I’m going to shower, Zed. Shields up, full sensor array, and when the download is complete, set course for the edge of the system.”
“As you wish, Captain. Shall I preheat the water for you?” Heating the water could put a strain on the condensers.
Rising, Shaw checked the environmental control and life support system. H2O stores listed full, the recyclers had worked at optimum levels. CO2 scrubbers reported at 75% of ideal. “Yes, Zed, preheat the water to 105° Fahrenheit. When you complete the chart and prep of the book, run a diagnostic on scrubbers one through four.”
“Acknowledged, Captain. Also, please note you have not eaten today, and your caloric intake is—”
“Mute.” The computer system served as his co-pilot and systems engineer—he didn’t need it to be his nanny. Leaving the cockpit, he slid down the ladder into the main body of the ship. The Gilly belonged to a class of space yachts designed to accommodate a crew of seven. Budget cuts resulted in it hosting one passenger slash captain slash schmuck stuck with the job. Ingenuity had the engineers installing Zed, a ship’s computer wired into every system, but programmed to only accept his commands. Clever, efficient, and at times, monotonous. Still, it beat the hell out of having to do every system’s check manually.
He did enough of them to know what results he should be seeing. The crew rooms all fed off the main access hall to the cockpit. He liked to think he’d taken the largest one for himself, but since they were all the same size, he’d simply moved into the one closest to the cockpit.
Each compartment had an airlock in the event of an environmental control malfunction, and his suite had the benefit of access to the navigation systems—access he’d installed during his first long month leaving the Milky Way and he could engage the Rosen Engine. Inside, he sealed the airlock, then removed his duster and hat. After setting both on their hooks, he stripped out of his clothes.
Laundry day aboard the Gilly was a joke. He hung his clothes inside the decontaminator, and it would flood the items with UV designed to break down any bacteria. The datalink on his wrist ran a continual scan of his vitals, and notified Zed if he encountered anything unknown or required specific decon before he boarded.
After his encounter with the stench ridden pirate, he half-expected to be spending a couple of days in decon, but Zed declared him free of infection. The shower compartment was smaller than he liked, considering his six-foot frame. He always stripped before stepping inside. Door closed, he engaged the temp controls then flicked the dial to on.
A sigh escaped him as the hot water beat down on his shoulders. The water pressure was at least decent, and he braced his hands on the walls of the cubicle as the water sluiced over him. He needed to shave, not that he gave a damn when they were between planets, but it was best to do the task while in the shower. Still, he closed his eyes and just soaked up the momentary privacy.
Three minutes of privacy later, his datalink chirped. Checking the device, he saw the book for his next stop was ready. Grimacing, he reached for his razor and went to work cleaning up the stubble. Hopefully Jo was able to score him the right spy thrillers or the next couple of weeks would be damn boring.
“Captain, a second data packet has begun downloading, it will slow the packet from Titan Deep Space Depot, delaying our departure by one solar hour.”
“Do I care who it’s from?” He’d meant the question rhetorically, but Zed didn’t take it that way.
“I do not have enough information to answer that inquiry, Captain. The packet is still downloading.”
Shaw shook his head. “Thank you Zed.”
“You’re very welcome, Captain.”
It was probably updates for their course, or new parameters for systems checks or a software upgrade. They sent him shit all the time. At least he’d have time to inventory the hold before they got underway. Somehow, he was less than enthused by the prospect.
* * *
Four weeks later…
* * *
“Zed, the next time I tell you to plot a course, do me a favor—scan for meteor showers.”
“Apologies, Captain. Long range sensors are unable to calibrate until we’ve replaced the array dish on the starboard aft.” Again, Zed responded to a rhetorical statement.
“It’s a computer, Shaw. Computer.”
“I’m sorry, Captain. I do not understand the nature of your inquiry.”
“Lock down the Gilly, Zed. I’ll talk to the quartermaster about repairs. Do a search of the New Genesis grid for a specialist capable of performing an upgrade to your software.”
“As you wish, Captain. Search commencing, however, I will be unable to hire any software specialists on New Genesis unless they possess Alpha Level Clearance.”
Shaw didn’t swear, b
ut he did flip a bird in the general vicinity of the monitors. After securing his holster to his thigh, he pulled on his duster, then set his Stetson in place before hitting the release on the airlock.
A dockmaster waited for him, alongside port security. Unlike the last three stops, New Genesis—or, as it was catalogued in his systems report, EA143—possessed a thriving economy apparent in the sprawling metropolis surrounding the spaceport. He’d had to wait an hour for a docking pad to be cleared, an hour he was pretty sure they’d used to scan his vessel and verify his identity.
Earth Prime transmissions to New Genesis would take longer than an hour to transmit and receive. Validation codes could run through the satellite system, a communication chain which would run his ID number. As long as his ID carried no flags, New Genesis would list him as valid while the identification continued to run up the ladder back to Earth Prime before a reroute would return the information to New Genesis with a full packet. Chances were, they wouldn’t get the packet until long after he finished his work and moved on. Such was the way of things.
Personally, Shaw didn’t give a damn about how long it took them to get their verification. They’d let him land. He handed over his ID card to dockmaster. He noted it in his log then handed it to the port security officer.
“I need the Gilly to undergo external repair on the aft sensor array, it sustained some ricochet damage. The fore sensor dish needs to be replaced.” Though the security officer reviewed Shaw’s ID, Shaw focused his attention on the dock master. “Once they’ve completed the external install, I’ll handle the internal recalibration.” In other words, no one else would board his ship.
“Are you carrying cargo of any kind for sale? Delivery? Or other items you plan to leave on New Genesis?” The boredom layering the dock master’s voice boded well. The monotony of routine interrogation didn’t invite deeper investigation.
Space Cowboy Survival Guide Page 2