by John Bowers
A Mystery
“I’ve never seen her before. What’s she doing here? She was never processed through the court.”
Spencer took his arm and literally tried to pull him away.
“Get out of here, David! Get the fuck out of here right now!”
Tarpington took a step back, his eyes still glued to the woman. Who was she? Why was she here? Who had authorized…this?
He heard a footstep behind him, the solid click of hard leather on the starcrete floor.
“Oh, Christ!” Spencer gasped.
Tarpington turned. He clearly recognized the third man, and opened his mouth to speak.
“You should listen to your lover boy, faggot!” the other man said.
Tarpington didn’t see the sap until it crashed into his skull. Pain flashed through his head and then he was falling. Everything was black before he hit the floor.
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Asteroid Outpost
Nick Walker, U.F. Marshal
John Bowers
AKW Books
Washington
An AKW Books eBook
Published by Kalar/Wade Media
Copyright 2012 by John Bowers
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by AKW Books, an imprint of Kalar/Wade Media, LLC, Washington.
You are granted a non-exclusive license to this work. You may make copies or reformat it for YOUR OWN USE ONLY. You may not resell, trade, nor give this work away.
Created in the United States of America
First Publication: December 2012
Cover by Ravven
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters are a product of the imagination of the author and any resemblance to any real person, either living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The name “AKW Books” and the AKW logo are trademarks belonging to Kalar/Wade Media, LLC
For Byker Bob. May the flatus be with you…always.
Chapter 1
Sunday, August 4, 0440 (Colonial Calendar) - The A Terminal - Ceres
When he stepped out of the airlock, Nick Walker almost broke his neck. The ship’s artificial gravity was six times that of the asteroid, and the transition threw him off balance. He stumbled and dropped his space bag.
A uniformed security guard who saw the whole thing smirked.
“Watch your step,” he said.
Nick swayed as he regained his balance.
“Thanks for the warning. You might have said something sooner.”
“More fun this way.” The man was still smirking.
Nick picked up the space bag and glared at the guard, taking note of his shoulder patch for future reference: Farrington Security.
It was almost midnight local time and Nick had no idea where to go at such an hour. It was his first trip to Ceres and if anyone was expecting him, they hadn’t bothered to meet the ship; he would have to wait until local morning to find his destination. He took the lift down to the underground and found the hatch leading out of the terminal.
The area was dark, with only an occasional overhead lamp to illuminate things. An electric taxi was parked at the curb and Nick walked toward it.
“Need a lift, mister?” The taxi pilot looked about seventy, gaunt and grey and alcoholic.
“Sure. Is there a hotel anywhere on this rock?” Nick tossed his space bag into the back of the taxi.
“Closest one is in Centerville, but they’ll be closing the front desk about now. Nobody ever rents a room after midnight.”
“Why not?”
“Nobody ever stops off here on the way to anywhere else. If you are here, then you live here, and if you live here, you already got a place to sleep. Leastways, that’s the theory.”
Nick sighed. Due to space lag, he wasn’t sleepy anyway. His internal clock was still set for Bradbury City on Mars, where he’d boarded the ship. He had six hours to kill.
“Anyplace to get a drink, then?”
“Sure. Saloons are open all night. The Open Airlock is just a mile down the tunnel.”
Nick climbed into the front seat and settled down.
“Take me there.”
The Open Airlock - Ceres
The music was like a jackhammer inside his head—no melody, just a fast, hard, throbbing beat.
Nick had never been in a low-gravity bar, but it looked very much like every other pub he’d ever seen. Dim and smoky, crowded. Noisy. It could have been in any ghetto district on Terra, but most closely resembled a biker bar he’d once visited in SoCal. Pool tables in the center, gaming tables in the back, a postage-stamp dance floor; grungy men with scars, tattoos, and greasy hair. Beards made up for baldness, belligerence for missing teeth. Everyone with an attitude.
The women didn’t look much better.
Nick strolled toward the bar, his eyes missing nothing. He rested an elbow on the surface and turned his attention to the bartender, who gazed at him with undisguised curiosity.
“You new here?”
“Why? Is this a private club?”
The bartender shrugged. “Not as long as you pay cash. What’ll you have?”
“What’ve you got?”
“We don’t serve wine.”
Nick reached for his wallet. “Give me a beer.”
The bartender reached into a cooler and produced a cold bottle, placed it in front of Nick.
“Twenty-five terros.”
Nick’s hand stopped halfway from his pocket.
“Twenty-five! That’s starship piracy!”
“The beer’s imported.”
Nick stared at the bottle. “That’s Bloodweiser! The cheapest beer in the Federation.”
“Real popular around here.”
“It’s cold piss!”
The bartender eyed him coldly. “It’s imported. All the way from Wisconsin.”
Nick heaved an exaggerated sigh and pulled two twenties from his wallet. He dropped them on the counter. The bartender replaced them with two fives, deducting his own tip. Nick ignored the money and took a swallow of the awful brew, thankful it was at least cold. He would limit himself to one.
He drank slowly and surveyed the patrons, wondering if he was the youngest person in the room. Maybe not, but he was probably the most recently bathed.
Nick was no fool. He’d known even before he walked in that an unfamiliar face was bound to draw attention. People were staring at him as soon as he passed through the door, and as he drank his beer the roar of conversation dulled gradually until every eye in the place was fixed on him. The only sound in the bar now was the thundering music, and after a moment that also stopped as someone pulled the plug. Just like that, the room was deadly silent.
A woman sidled along the bar toward him, her eyes openly curious; the set of her mouth told him she was part of whatever was coming. He watched her approach, but remained aware of the men along the far wall. The woman stopp
ed a few feet away, smiling cautiously.
“I haven’t seen you in here before,” she said in a voice loud enough to be heard by all.
Nick grinned slightly. She was attractive enough in the available light, but the room was so dim he couldn’t even guess at her age.
“My first time.”
She smiled knowingly, taking a step closer. She leaned slightly toward him.
“First time, huh?” Her hand approached his face and she stuck out her finger, lifting his chin just an inch. “Does your…mother…know where you are?”
In spite of everything, Nick blushed. Annoyed with himself, he nevertheless played along.
“No, she doesn’t. Please don’t tell her.”
That drew a guffaw from somewhere, and momentarily distracted the woman’s attempt to provoke him. Her head tilted as she studied him, searching for another gambit. Nick heard a chair scrape, and from the corner of his eye saw a man rise to his feet. A big man, all beef and beard and bad attitude.
The woman tried again, her eyes taunting him. “Aren’t you going to buy me a drink?”
Nick held her gaze, even as he measured the big man’s approach. Another chair scraped, and a second man stood up.
“Bartender,” Nick said calmly. “Pour the lady a drink and put it on my tab.”
“You ain’t got no tab.”
Nick’s lips curled slightly as he winked at the woman.
“Damn. I tried.”
Her eyes hardened, but she took a step back as the big man planted his feet in front of Nick. Nick swiveled slowly to face him, his right elbow still resting on the bar, the beer bottle in his hand. The bruiser glared down at him from four inches of extra altitude. Nick smiled.
“Hi.”
The finger that jabbed Nick’s chest felt like iron.
“This here is an adult establishment,” the big man declared gruffly. “You best get out. No minors allowed.”
Nick shrugged. “I’ve never worked in the mines.”
The florid face confronting him swelled and began to fuse with color. The second man had arrived and stood slightly behind the first, looking around his shoulder at Nick. The rest of the room stood still, waiting for the explosion.
“You makin’ fun of me, boy?” the beef trust demanded.
“No, sir, not a bit. But I ain’t leaving just because you want me to.”
“You better pay attention, son. Leave now, or you might git hurt.”
Nick shook his head resolutely.
“I don’t think you understand. I’m not in any danger here.”
The belligerent’s eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t think so?”
“No, I don’t. In fact, you don’t need to be afraid either.”
“What!” The man looked less certain of himself, but was keenly aware that others were expecting him to keep command of the situation. “I ain’t afraid! What the hell are you tryin’ to say?”
Nick set his beer bottle down on the bar and settled squarely on both feet, relaxed and steady. He raised his voice slightly.
“What I mean is that you…” He stabbed his own finger into the monster’s chest. “…are a lot safer as long as I’m here.”
Not a soul breathed for the space of three seconds. The big man stared in shock, then took a step back and burst out laughing. He turned to the man behind him.
“Did you hear that! He said—”
Nick hadn’t been born in a test tube. He could read the signs and he knew the drill. When the big man lunged he ducked the swing, and while his opponent was still off balance, swept his leg from under him and used the low gravity to hoist him over the bar in a flying arc that crashed him into the rear wall, smashing the mirror. The second man was a tad slow to react, but when he charged, Nick’s beer bottle disintegrated against his cheekbone. He hit the floor with a scream.
It happened so quickly that no one else could move. The air turned blue with shouts and curses, but Nick stepped over the broken-cheeked assailant to keep his back to the wall, then surveyed the situation. The first man was rising from the floor behind the bar, glass shards in his beard, dazed but still angry. He shook his head briefly, his eyes focused on Nick, and took an angry step forward.
He stopped when Nick’s laser pistol appeared an inch from his nose.
“Like I said,” Nick told him evenly, “you’re a lot safer with me in here. But not if you fuck with me.”
“Hey!” the bartender protested from the safety of fifteen feet away. “This is Federation territory! No weapons allowed.”
Nick ignored him, still staring down the big man.
“What about it? You still want to fight?”
“Who the hell are you, mister?”
“My name is Nick. You didn’t answer my question.”
The bearded man cleared his throat, absently began brushing glass out of his whiskers.
“Well…looks like you got the hole card, so I reckon I got no choice but to fold.”
Nick nodded slowly, and lowered his weapon slightly. He glanced at the man on the floor, whose face was bleeding. The woman was kneeling over him.
“You ought to get him a doctor,” Nick suggested. “Put his union benefits to work.”
The shouting had stopped, but the room was abuzz with conversation. Nick scanned the crowd briefly but saw no immediate threats. The bartender had moved a few feet closer, still staring at Nick’s pistol.
“Did you hear me, mister? I said no weapons allowed. You better leave or I’ll call the law.”
Nick holstered the weapon. His left hand came up with a leather case in it.
“Don’t bother.”
The bartender stared at the badge in the leather case.
“U.F. Marshal? Why didn’t you say so?”
“Nobody asked me.” Nick put the badge away and looked at the bearded man behind the bar. “Bartender, pour this man a beer. Put it on my tab.”
Chapter 2
Monday, August 5, 0440 (CC) - Government Annex - Ceres
The following morning, Nick Walker stepped out of a taxi in front of a store and hoisted his space bag. The door facing him boasted a sign that declared:
United Federation Marshal
Nick opened the door and stepped inside. The first thing he noticed was the cigar smoke. The second thing was how small and cramped the office was.
The third thing he noticed was the aging man behind the simple wooden desk. He looked about sixty, his hair thin and white, his neatly trimmed beard thick and white. He was bent over a computer console, a lighted cigar clamped in his teeth. He didn’t move as Nick stopped and set his space bag on the deck.
“Marshal Milligan?”
The old man looked up slowly, squinting as if near-sighted, then leaned back in his chair.
“You Nick Walker?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What took you? I was just looking at your itinerary. You got in last night.”
“Yes, sir, but I didn’t expect you’d be in your office that late.”
“Well, take a seat. You ain’t in the Star Marines anymore.”
Milligan shoved a chair toward him and Nick caught it, swinging it around. He hadn’t realized he’d been standing nearly at attention. He sat down stiffly, suddenly uncomfortable. He laid an envelope on the desk that contained his transfer papers and data chip. Milligan ignored it. His eyes scanned Nick up and down.
“Twenty-four, huh? I thought they were sending someone a bit older. This your first assignment?”
“Yes, sir. I graduated from the Academy three weeks ago.”
“Hm. Well, you’ll have to do. If you live long enough, you’ll get experience fast. This is a rugged assignment.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Stop calling me ‘sir’. You ain’t in the Star Marines anymore.”
“Yes, s— Uh, okay.”
Milligan didn’t smile, but his eyes gleamed. “You smoke cigars?”
“No, s— Er, no, I don’t.”
“T
oo bad. You smoke cigars, you’ll never get worms.”
Nick blinked. “Are…worms a problem here?”
The old marshal waved a hand. “Not if you smoke cigars. Did anyone brief you on what you’ll be doing?”
“Not really. The information was that you needed an assistant, and since it seemed like an interesting assignment, I volunteered.”
Milligan’s eyebrows rose. “Volunteered! No one ordered you here?”
“No, s— Well, I think if no one had volunteered someone would have been assigned, but I jumped at it. I didn’t want to get stuck somewhere boring for my first posting.”
“Well, you were right about that. Nothing boring about this place.” Milligan crushed the stub of his cigar in a glass dish and slapped his hands together to brush off the ash. “How much do you know about Ceres?”
“Not a great deal. I did a little research on the SolarNet in transit, but it was mostly textbook stuff. Nothing that sounded useful.”
“And the Academy…they didn’t talk about it?”
“Not really. Just that it’s a Federation territory, not much else.”
“Figures.” Milligan cracked his knuckles and stretched. “You may have guessed by now that this is no suburban residential community. Ceres is a frontier world, just about as gritty as any place in the Solar System. Very few families here, and families aren’t recommended. The Belt is a mining community, and by default a lawless place. Probably half the people who work for the mining companies are fugitives from somewhere, but as long as they do their jobs the companies look the other way.”