Ike Shot the Sheriff

by Scott Moon

  Dixie sighed in exasperation. “Not like that. Are you even trying? Never mind. I have something to attend to so remember what I told you and talk to Pierre if anybody makes you a serious offer. He knows which ones I would allow for your first time.”

  Ruby nodded with her best chastised-child expression and waited for Dixie to leave.

  Less than a minute after she was gone, a giant man still filthy from the mines marched right up to her with his hands balled into fists. He opened one of them to reveal a coin. “Let’s go upstairs. You’re skinny and weird, but I’m tired and don’t have time for the usual pleasantries.”

  Ruby leaned close and whispered in his ear. “Dixie says I’m still on probation and I can’t go upstairs yet.”

  “I don’t care what Dixie says!” He took her by the arm, his hand wrapping all the way around her bicep and squeezing hard.

  Ruby leaned closer, brushing his ear with her lips. “I’ll cut your balls off.”

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then he stepped back while simultaneously shoving her away. The force spun her halfway onto the bar, but she recovered quickly and resumed her seat with one leg crossed over the other. She winked at him and made a cupping motion with her left hand and scissor motions with her right.

  The thick-shouldered miner cursed and moved on to some of the other girls, who laughed and flirted with him. Ruby breathed a sigh of relief, but realized the man’s attempt had broken the ice with the patrons of the Mother Lode. Several of his friends were already eyeing Ruby and pointing at her, exchanging jokes and encouraging each other.

  She uncrossed her legs and massaged the fatigue out of her thighs. “I don’t know how women sit like this.”

  Howls of laughter and rude comments burst from her growing fan club. She avoided eye contact and made a decision.

  During the confrontation, she had noticed Ike talking to some men at a table near the back of the room. He hadn’t recognized her. He was leaving now, so she stood up and followed. At the door, she grabbed a long jacket that covered her to mid-thigh. Then she disappeared into the shadows of Darklanding.

  He moved fast, looking over his shoulder from time to time, but more often checking his back trail at the corners where looking back was less obvious. She tucked into doorways to hide whenever she sensed he was getting nervous. All in all, the man seemed to walk like he owned the place.

  “What are you doing here, Ike?” she muttered as she watched him go, oblivious to her presence.

  Ike cut straight through the residential and warehouse sections of Darklanding and approached the spaceport. He sauntered up to a gate and spoke to a pair of guards, showed them something, gave them something, and then passed through unmolested. One after another, ships circled the spaceport and landed. Others flared their engines to climb into orbit.

  Ruby stared at the guards, calculating her chance of getting by them. Her experience at the Mother Lode had exhausted her patience with flirtation and charm as methods to get what she wanted. She decided to climb a nearby building and try to watch him for as long as she could.

  Her efforts paid off. Moments after she found an abandoned rooftop, she saw him walk toward a ship that was oddly dormant. The loading ramp lowered and he walked on. Ruby couldn’t be certain from this distance, but she thought there was a lot of people on that ship and they were anxious to get off.

  The ramp closed. The rest of the spaceport remained busy with loading and unloading. Trains of transport carts swerved around the dormant mystery ship as though it was a normal thing in the world.

  Ruby hugged herself and shivered. The walk back to the Mother Lode reminded her that she was wearing a miniskirt and carrying her high heels in one hand.

  What the hell was he doing here already? she wondered.

  CHAPTER SEVEN: Drunk and Disorderly

  Thaddeus woke up and reached for his company data pad, wincing at the effort. Every muscle in his body ached, not from his tussle with Ike, but from his new strength and conditioning routine. Flipping the tire and sprinting had felt good at the time.

  Not so much, now.

  He muttered under his breath and fumbled until he picked up the device and answered it. “Thaddeus.”

  “Um, this is Deputy Mast Jotham.”

  Thaddeus waited.

  “There has been an incident. Ike and his friends did not return to their quarters when you told him to. They went about the spaceport drinking and carousing. They are very muchly causing problems down by the warehouse district,” Mast said.

  “I never told them to go to their quarters,” Thaddeus said, unsure if that would have been a good idea or not. He doubted they would’ve complied. “What’s your location? I’ll head that way.”

  Thaddeus ran his finger around the SagCon company icon carved into the nightstand.

  Mast gave the directions in his precise manner and hung up. Thad looked at the receiver, shrugged, and turned it off. He pulled on his clothing, strapped on his gun-belt and badge, and headed for the door.

  “Fry man, you need to check your contract and see if you’re a salaried employee or a clock puncher. Do you get overtime? Inquiring minds want to know,” Thaddeus said to the empty room.

  He stepped into the dimly lit hallway and tripped over his chair. Catching himself before he fell headlong, he grabbed the wall and turned to look at the offending piece of furniture. The chair was just as ugly and functional as it ever had been. He dragged the chair inside before locking the door and leaving, hoping it had aired out enough. The first night had stunk up his small room with the smell of charred plastics, molten metal, and fire foam.

  He wanted his chair, but he wanted it less offensive.

  The Mother Lode was surprisingly quiet. The place didn’t stay open all night, it just felt like it sometimes.

  He stopped near the hallway that would take him to the Company Man’s wing, stared for a moment, then continued. His data pad beeped several times and he checked the text message. Mast was having a hard time and wanted to know when Thad would arrive.

  Alien worlds were always colder at night, in Thad’s experience. He couldn’t get the illogical thought out of his head. The streets were abandoned, with a few people looking from shadowy doorways of apartments stacked too close together. The eyes watched him pass by.

  He heard the commotion two blocks before he reached it. Drunken voices cheered each other on and complained at the same time. He was much closer before he could make out the distinct lilt of Mast’s voice.

  He swiped his long fireman’s coat back from his gun and badge as he rounded the corner without issuing a challenge. For several long moments, the drunken miners continued to taunt Mast. Thaddeus watched and waited.

  “I must ask you to return to quarters,” Mast said.

  “Yeah, yeah, you already said that about a dozen times,” one man said. “We told you we’re headed to our quarters. Why don’t you get off our backs, Glok?”

  “Did I use bad words with you?” Mast asked. “It is very rude, very muchly rude to call me a Glok.”

  That made the drunkards laugh hysterically. Two of them fell down and the others laughed even harder trying to pull them back to their feet.

  Thaddeus leaned against the corner of the building as he stared at them. He wondered how long it would be before they realized he was watching. If Mast hadn’t already drawn a line in the sand, Thaddeus might’ve let them be. They were acting like Jack-wagons, but he couldn’t take every group of workers to jail who blew off steam.

  The problem was, they were disrespecting his deputy.

  “Toy, I gotta piss,” a man said.

  The man Thaddeus recognized as Ike’s lieutenant shouted, “Then piss, you dumb animal.”

  “I gotta drain the main vein too,” said another. A dozen variations of this theme spread through the crowd and soon there were men lined up along the side of the warehouse creating a flood of urine.

  Mast stepped back and put both hands to the side of his head as he sta
red wide-eyed. “No, no, no!”

  Thaddeus pushed off the wall and moved quietly to Mast’s side. He spoke in a low but clear voice. “We’ll arrest the first two who finish. You have your handcuffs?”

  Mast held up his handcuffs between forefinger and thumb, almost dropping them.

  Thaddeus chuckled. “You hold those cuffs like they’re a pair of dirty underwear.”

  “They are somewhat repulsive.”

  “Well, hold onto them,” Thaddeus said. “If one of these characters gets them, they could become a weapon.” He looped his handcuffs through his fingers to make an improvised pair of brass knuckles. He jabbed at an imaginary target.

  Mast winced.

  The urinator turned and found himself standing face-to-face with Thaddeus Fry, Sheriff of Darklanding. “I don’t want to hurt you, friend, but I will. You’re under arrest for drunk and disorderly, urinating in public, and interfering with the law enforcement officer in the course of his lawful duties. Turn around and put your hands together like you’re clapping.”

  The man, wide-eyed and unsteady on his feet, complied and turned around. Thaddeus handcuffed him and pulled him away from his friends.

  “Your turn, Mast,” Thaddeus said.

  His Unglok deputy took a hesitant step forward and accosted the next individual to zip up his jumpsuit and turn around.

  “You are very truly detained for arrest,” Mast said. “Now clap your hands behind your back and turnaround.”

  The man was so drunk, he looked more confused than angry at this point. “Do you want me to do the hokey pokey while I’m at it?”

  “Well, I do not very rightly know,” Mast said. “But you may call the jail the Pokey in some dialects, as I very muchly understand it. So turn and clap, please.”

  The man turned around and put his hands behind his back, palms facing each other. “Are we too late for breakfast or too early?”

  Mast took hold of the man’s wrists and placed the handcuffs on him after three tentative attempts. “There will be breakfast in a few hours.”

  “That’s good. I’m not feeling that great. Think I’m going to puke,” the man said.

  By twos and threes, the rest of the group turned around. Some were obviously losing interest in the night’s events and had started to wander toward side alleys. Others cursed at Mast.

  “Get your damn Glok hands off my friend,” Toy said.

  The man Mast had in custody groaned. “Come off it, Toy. We’re done for the night. Just make sure I get bailed out.”

  “Yeah, Toy. Head on back to your quarters and get some rack time. Take your friends with you,” Thaddeus said.

  Toy shook his head. Like Ike had earlier, he had his hands balled into fists, but unlike Ike, he backed away two steps. “This ain’t gonna stand, lawman. You can’t be harassing good workers for the company.”

  Thaddeus nodded as though listening to a reasonable argument. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

  “To hell with you. I’m not gonna take disrespect from some off-world grunt,” Toy said.

  Thad let go of his prisoner and took a quick step forward.

  Toy and the others immediately retreated several steps.

  “Go on home. That’s your first and last warning,” Thad said.

  Grumbling, they left and slowly went in several different directions.

  “Where was Ike?” Mast asked.

  Thaddeus looked at his prisoners contemplatively as he answered Mast’s question. “Ike’s type doesn’t hang around for the afterparty. Not his style, or his job.”

  “Hold on, don’t move. Wait for them to disperse before we begin our transport,” Thad said.

  Mast nodded. His prisoner, however, was not so patient.

  “Listen, man, I’ve got to take another piss. And I don’t want to miss breakfast. God help me, I look forward to the slop they serve sometimes,” the man said.

  Thaddeus stepped close and gave the man the once-over. “You’ve been locked up?”

  “Uh huh. Sheriff before you went around with the paddy wagon, throwing people in the slammer.”

  Thaddeus maintained a poker-face. There were questions he wanted to ask but sensed it wasn’t the time. “Real popular guy, I imagine.”

  Mast’s prisoner laughed. “I guess. Depending on your definition of popular.”

  Thaddeus’s prisoner said nothing. He looked pale, like the type who didn’t normally drink and had spent the evening keeping up with power drunks. “Just walk, we’ll be there soon.” He shifted his attention to Mast’s prisoner. “What are you gentlemen doing hanging around Ike?”

  “He’s an a-hole, but he’s got a tab at the Mother Lode.”

  The sun was starting to come up and the Ungloks were coming out. They gathered around the work pickup stations, the places where temporary workers were gathered and taken to random jobsites. Thaddeus thought they were a sullen crew, gaunt even by local standards. Their version of company jumpsuits were threadbare and devoid of rank markings.

  Mast stared at them angrily, then spoke to Thaddeus. “Perhaps we should take these persons around another way.”

  His prisoner complained loudly. “Ah, man. You said we would make it in time for breakfast.”

  Thaddeus took the arm of Mast’s prisoner and pushed his toward Mast. “Let’s trade for a bit.”

  The Unglok deputy took the barely conscious prisoner and dutifully marched him toward the jail, which wasn’t exactly secure with half of the building blown up. Structurally, the detention facility was sound, but hard to monitor without living on-site.

  “As for you, whatever your name is, you’ll get your breakfast or you won’t. Don’t make trouble for me,” Thaddeus said.

  Several of the Ungloks perked up and stepped away from the work pickup area near the old sheriff’s headquarters and jail. One of them yelled something at Mast in their native tongue.

  “What are they saying?” Thad asked.

  “It is nothing upon nothing,” Mast said. “These are the resentful ones you asked about.”

  Thad raised one hand and made a noncommittal sound. “I didn’t ask about your people’s resentment, not specifically.”

  “The question remains valid, very muchly.” Mast tried to make his prisoner walk farther from the gathering of his people, which nearly tripped the man, who was two-thirds asleep.

  “You should get a better deputy,” one of the Ungloks said. “That one will never do. He is very rightly and muchly a coward.”

  Thad pretended he didn’t understand the words. Giving them a confused expression, he shook his head. “You said outboard motors might be powered? Not sure I understand what you’re getting at, friend.”

  “I said Mast Jotham is not a warrior and can never be a warrior. Not strong enough to even be a good worker. He studies words and humans,” the Unglok said.

  The crowd made rude gestures at Mast. The deputy stood straighter and showed his teeth, but stayed near his prisoner. “This is my prisoner and I will not do what you say to him.”

  “Come along, Mast. Let’s get these two locked down so we can have breakfast,” Thaddeus said. He twisted the cuffs sharply to prevent his prisoner from opening his mouth to complain again. “Don’t worry about your breakfast. We feed our guests. What your stomach does with the caloric load is your problem.”

  The Ungloks went back to waiting for work as soon as Thad and Mast took the prisoners into the patched-up jail facility.

  “I appreciate how you kept your cool,” Thaddeus said.

  Mast nodded. “Yes, I will endeavor to understand what this euphemism means.”

  Thaddeus walked both prisoners to the back door of the jail, then handed them each a stale doughnut from a desk. “Welcome to booking. Hello and good-bye.”

  He kicked the slower of the two men in the butt and then shut the door before they could complain or thank him.

  CHAPTER EIGHT: Collecting Evidence

  “You should not have done that,” Mast said. “Those m
en committed a crime against the people of Darklanding.”

  “So did the other men we let wander off, or do you plan on tracking them down and bringing them all to justice?” Thad asked.

  Mast studied his feet. “That does seem impracticable.”

  “Those two jokers were only looking for a free meal and a place to crash for the night. Well, that’s what one of them was doing. Not sure about the quiet one.” Thad went to the back door, opened it, and stepped out.

  The pale-faced drunk lay face down in the alley. Thad walked over and squatted to check his pulse while keeping his gun-side away from the man just in case he woke up angry. Several seconds passed before he was satisfied the man was alive.

  “Mast, wake him up,” Thad said.

  “I will awaken him,” Mast said, kneeling to gently shake the man’s shoulder.

  Thad went inside to ponder a bad feeling he had in his gut. There was something about Ike he didn’t like. The man was a troublemaker with an open tab at the Mother Lode. Did Shaunte know about this? Pierre surely had to. Dixie was probably in on it as well. Everyone in town knew Ike, everyone but the sheriff. He made a mental note to start confronting people.

  After about ten minutes, he went to the back door to check on Mast. He watched without getting involved. He wanted his deputy to become self-sufficient and more comfortable dealing with humans. The Unglok knelt beside the human and patted his shoulder, muttering soothing words and promising to get him home before he got in trouble with the missus.

  Thaddeus went back inside and paced the small office of the jail. He was deep in thought when a knock came at the front door.

  “Sheriff Fry, I need to have a word,” a voice said.

  Thaddeus recognized the voice almost before the visitor started to speak. Crossing the room with his gun-hand on his sidearm, he opened the door partway to stare down at Ike. “Fine, Ike. Let’s have words.”

  Ike laughed. “Sheriff, I think under other circumstances, you and I would get along smartly. I’m here to check on some of my friends. Heard they acted out a bit and caught some charges with the law. And about all that business back at the Mother Lode, that’s just the alcohol talking. I respect the law, I really do.”