Asteroid Outpost (Nick Walker, U.F. Marshal Book 1)

by John Bowers

  Sledge stared at him in horror, turned two shades of pink and then three shades of red. Murray’s mouth hung at half-mast and Keating’s eyes glazed in disbelief. Nick didn’t wait for them to recover.

  “So which is it, Reverend—are you spreading the Word of God or just sending men to heaven a little early—for a price?”

  For a moment Nick thought he’d gone too far. Sledge trembled and sank onto the bed, clutching his chest and gasping. Finally, shaking with emotion, tears flooded down his cheeks and he began to sob. Murray quickly got him a glass of water while Keating glared lasers at Nick. Nick leaned back against the bulkhead and watched, his face throbbing. As soon as Sledge was calm, Murray turned and took Nick by the arm.

  “I want to have a word with you!”

  “What is your fucking problem!” Murray rasped as soon as they were alone in the corridor.

  Nick glared right back at him. “Two things—first, if those girls are what they appear to be, it’s incredibly stupid to parade them around a mining camp without an armed escort. And second, I wanted to know if Sledge was being up front with us.”

  “Why wouldn’t he be?”

  “Look, we don’t even know for sure that he’s their father. For all you or I know he could be a pimp passing himself off as a preacher. What better cover for a traveling pussy festival?”

  “That makes no sense! Why would he need a cover? Prostitution is legal.”

  “Not if those girls are captives.”

  “And what makes you think that?”

  “I don’t think that, yet. But you can’t deny that it’s a possibility. They both look fairly intelligent, which means they should be reluctant to expose themselves to this kind of environment. I’ve known a lot of girls who would never be caught dead in places a lot nicer than this.”

  Murray stared at him, the rage fading from his eyes.

  “So what do you think now?”

  “I’m still not sure. His reaction to what I said looked genuine, but he could be a very good actor.”

  “Well, the girls are still missing, so I’m not sure I see the relevance in your theory.”

  Nick shrugged. “It could be the girls went missing willingly. Maybe they chose the lesser of two evils.”

  Murray frowned.

  “Aw, Christ, you’re not suggesting that Sledge—”

  “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just keeping an open mind.”

  Murray turned in a circle, thinking.

  “Okay, I don’t want you to go back in there. I’ll finish the interview, you can wait here.”

  He reached for the door but Nick caught his sleeve.

  “I have a better idea. Why don’t we split up?”

  Murray frowned. “Why?”

  “You’ve been out here before, so people recognize you. I’m a new face, and if people don’t know who I am I might get someone to talk.”

  Murray was hesitant. “I dunno…”

  “Marshal Milligan told me I would be working mostly alone. And you were going to send me out here by myself. So let me work.”

  “Undercover, huh?”

  “For a few hours. I’ll meet up with you back at Farrington Security.”

  Murray still seemed less than convinced, but finally shrugged.

  “Well, you got yourself a Galaxy Cross, so I guess you don’t need me to hold your hand. Just watch your ass. Do you have an implant?”

  “No.”

  Murray reached into a pocket and pulled out what looked like a large button. He placed it in Nick’s hand.

  “Just squeeze it and talk. It’s a dedicated freq.”

  Nick nodded. He pulled his badge off his shirt and put it in his pocket along with the transmitter. Without another word he turned and walked away.

  Government Annex - Ceres

  “The witness may step down.”

  As the man with the wired jaw and splinted arm worked himself laboriously out of the witness chair and hobbled across the courtroom to take a seat, Judge Monica Maynard turned to David Tarpington.

  “Call your next witness, Counselor.”

  Tarpington glanced up at the bench. “Your Honor, the Federation rests.”

  Monica glanced at Misery Allen. “Is the Defense ready to proceed?”

  Misery Allen, trim and sexy in a tight pantsuit, stood.

  “Your Honor, the Defense renews its request to dismiss all charges.”

  Monica’s dark brows knitted in annoyance.

  “Denied,” she said flatly. “Again.”

  “Your Honor—”

  “How many witnesses are you prepared to call?”

  “Just one, your Honor. The defendant.”

  “And how long do you expect his testimony to take?”

  “A few minutes, no more.”

  “Wonderful. Summarize it for me—what’s he going to say?”

  Misery’s eyes widened a fraction in surprise.

  “Just that he believed he was acting in self defense, your Honor. Mr. Garrigus provoked him by constant taunting and was making threats.”

  “Self defense.” Monica stared at the burly, bearded defendant in disbelief. “The defendant will rise. I will question him myself.”

  The greasy looking man lumbered to his feet, his scarred face twisted in contempt. He was wearing work clothes and wasn’t shackled.

  “Mr. Murdoch, you are claiming self defense?”

  “Yeah.”

  Monica glowered. “By ‘yeah’ I take it you mean ‘yes, your Honor’?”

  “Yeah.”

  Monica leaned forward, her irritation rising. It was after eight o’clock and she had already missed her dinner. A hot bath was waiting…and waiting…and waiting.

  “Well, I gotta tell you, Mr. Murdoch, I’m looking at Mr. Garrigus over there and he has a broken jaw, a broken arm, one eye is swollen shut, several teeth are missing, and I find it hard to believe that you are the victim here.”

  Murdoch said nothing.

  “Explain it to me, Mr. Murdoch—how were you in any danger from the victim?”

  “I was defendin’ my reputation.”

  “Your reputation!”

  “Yeah.”

  “And what was Mr. Garrigus doing to your reputation?”

  “He was talkin’ shit.”

  Monica Maynard heaved a deep sigh of frustration. David Tarpington was writing on a legal pad, grinning hugely. Misery Allen raised her eyes to the ceiling in hopelessness.

  Monica leaned forward again.

  “Mr. Murdoch…isn’t your first name…Turd?”

  “Yeah.”

  She studied him a moment, questioning her own sanity. What the hell was she doing holding court on Ceres?

  “Your first name is Turd,” she said slowly, “and you were offended because someone was talking shit?”

  Barely able to hold it, Tarpington couldn’t suppress a snicker. Tears were forming in his eyes.

  “Yeah,” Turd Murdoch said.

  Monica tilted her head toward Misery Allen.

  “Miss Allen, unless you have anything to add, I’m ready to render a verdict.”

  Defeated, Misery shook her head.

  “The Defense rests, your Honor.”

  “Fantastic.” Judge Maynard lifted a stack of papers and dropped them on their edge to align them. She looked at the defendant again.

  “Mr. Murdoch, this court finds you guilty of aggravated assault. You are hereby sentenced to the following: you will pay all of Mr. Garrigus’ medical bills, you will pay him one thousand terros for pain and suffering, and you will either pay a one thousand terro fine or spend ninety days in lockup. Which will it be?”

  Murdoch’s expression hardened as he glared at her.

  “I didn’t do nothin’ wrong,” he insisted.

  “We’re already past that phase, Mr. Murdoch. The court says you are guilty. The question now is, do you want to pay the fine or do the time?”

  Murdoch glanced hatefully at Misery Allen, then glared hatefully at
the judge.

  “Fuck it, I’ll pay the fine.”

  “Wonderful. Add another fifty terros for saying ‘fuck’ in my courtroom.” She banged her gavel. “This court is adjourned.”

  Chapter 10

  The Outer Orbit – Caribou Lake

  Twenty minutes later, Nick walked into the only bar at Caribou Lake. He had taken a few minutes to study a map of the asteroid and get the lay of the “land”, then slipped into a men’s room. He still wore his gun belt with the laser pistol—that seemed fairly common in the ‘roids—but took the .44 out of the shoulder holster and tucked it into his boot, pulling his pants leg down over it; he buried the shoulder holster at the bottom of a waste can. He wetted his hair and used liquid soap to make it stick out in all directions, smudged his face and neck with dirt from the floor, and ripped the sleeve on his shirt so the tear was noticeable. By the time he reached the Outer Orbit he looked reasonably disheveled.

  As expected, the bar was dim and smoky, so dark he could barely see the floor, but unlike the Open Airlock, Outer Orbit had no dance floor and the music wasn’t nearly as loud. Neither did he see any pool tables, but there were some gaming machines in the back, black holes into which miners could watch their hard-earned wages disappear. The tables were lit by radium candles, which threw barely enough light that patrons could see each other’s faces. The place was about half full, maybe thirty people, but conversation was muted. Nick wound his way carefully to the bar and leaned against it.

  “Haven’t seen you in here before.”

  The bartender was a woman, the only female he could see. She was trim and petite, even sexy, but the light was so bad he couldn’t tell if she was pretty. He did see lines in her face that suggested she was a bit older than he was.

  “My first time,” he admitted with a wry grin. He slapped down ten terros. “Can I get a beer?”

  She produced a bottle from a cooler and set it in front of him, took the ten and kept it. The beer was good, a Colorado brand he’d always liked…and a hell of a lot cheaper than the Wisconsin swill he’d bought at the Open Airlock. He twisted the top and drank deeply. The bartender was still looking at him.

  “New to the ‘roids?”

  “Naw, I been out here a couple a years. Got me a small claim over on the Jupiter side, place called Sulphur Stones.”

  The woman whistled. “That’s a fur piece from here. Couple of million miles.”

  Nick nodded and swigged his beer again.

  “So what brings you to Caribou Lake? They don’t have any watering holes out there?”

  “Sure, they do. But I didn’t come here for the booze.”

  Intrigued, she leaned her elbows on the bar, making sure her cleavage was visible.

  “And what did you come here for?”

  Nick gazed at her frankly for a moment, not missing the signals.

  “To get laid.”

  Unfazed, she let her smile widen as she nodded slowly. This close, he could see her more clearly; she was at least fifty, but a very pleasant fifty.

  “I’m willing to pay,” he added.

  She maintained eye contact with him, unblinking. Her smile didn’t waver.

  “Not too many women on this rock,” she said casually.

  “What time do you get off?”

  She straightened up to her full five feet four and grabbed a towel, wiping the bar where his beer had dripped.

  “In about four hours. But what makes you think I’m interested?”

  “Why would I think you weren’t?”

  She laughed and swatted him with the towel. “Now you be nice.”

  In lieu of a reply, he reached out and placed his hand on the back of her neck, drawing her toward him. He bent over the bar and kissed her hard, holding her for long seconds. She made no effort to get free.

  At a nearby table, two miners saw what was happening and stopped talking, staring in amusement.

  “Careful, Bobbie!” one of them called out. “He looks an awful lot like that holo you showed me of your son!”

  Without breaking the kiss, Bobbie the bartender extended her middle finger toward the table. Nick took a fresh grip on her, with both hands this time, and kissed her again, even harder. When he released her mouth he pressed his forehead against hers.

  “You sure you can’t get off work any sooner?”

  “My, you are a horny one, aren’t you!”

  He nodded jerkily. “I’m young, too. You know what that means…staying power.”

  She pulled back from him and smoothed her hair with her fingers.

  “It’ll cost you fifty terros for as long as you want. I usually charge a hundred a pop, so that’s a bargain.”

  He nodded and reached for his wallet. She quickly put out a hand.

  “Not now.” She smiled. “Later.”

  “How much later?” He looked desperate.

  “Four hours. Sorry, I can’t change that.”

  Nick gazed at her in disappointment, then sighed in resignation. “Okay, give me another beer. I’ll be over in the corner.”

  With two beers in hand, he found a corner table and settled down, openly ignoring the room at large but quietly observing everything that moved. He was pretty new at this and had no idea if his ploy would work, but it was the only thing he could think of. He was halfway through the first beer when he sensed movement coming in his direction, and spotted a shadow looming over his table.

  “Mind if I sit down?” The voice was gruff, middle aged, but not unfriendly. The face was in shadow but he could see a beard…and a hat, which seemed odd in this environment. With a casual wave of his hand he indicated the chair opposite.

  “Not a bit. Have a seat.”

  The other man settled into the chair and rested his elbows on the table. He glanced around as if to make sure no one nearby was close enough to hear.

  “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with the barkeep.”

  Nick looked at the man more closely. In the radium light he could make out features now, and realized this was the man who’d teased the bartender about Nick looking like her son. The man stuck out his hand.

  “My name is Willoughby.”

  “Nick Jones.” Nick shook hands.

  “So, what kind of claim you got at Sulphur Stones?”

  “Just a small one. I move to a new spot every few months.”

  “Is that right? What’re you looking for?”

  “Trace minerals. The stuff they use in warp drives. They’re pretty rare, so there are no big deposits. Pick up a few grams here and a few more there.”

  “That’s a lot of work.”

  “Yeah, but the payoff is huge. Sell ten kilos and you can retire.”

  “How much you sold so far?”

  “A few ounces.” Nick shrugged. “I’m young, I got time.”

  Willoughby had brought his own beer and sipped it slowly, staring at Nick as if weighing a decision.

  “What brought you out here in the first place?” he asked.

  Nick frowned in annoyance. “Why do you want to know that? You some kind of cop?”

  Willoughby laughed and shook his head. “No.”

  “U.F. Marshal, maybe?”

  Willoughby shook his head more emphatically.

  “Not me, my friend. I stay as far away from the law as possible.”

  “You runnin’ from something?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  Nick took a deep breath and sighed. He tipped his beer bottle again.

  “I guess we all are.”

  Willoughby’s beer bottle was empty and he shoved it to the side of the table. He leaned forward confidentially.

  “What really brings you to Caribou Lake?” he demanded. “You didn’t come here to fuck Bobbie, that’s for sure. She’s over sixty and has grandkids your age.”

  Nick gazed straight back at him. “Right now, in my present state, she looks damn good.”

  “They don’t have whorehouses out on the Jupiter side?”

&nb
sp; “Yeah, they do. But I’ve been through all the merchandise six times and I’m looking for something new. Variety is the key to happiness, my mother used to say.”

  “Your mother said that?”

  “I dunno. I heard it somewhere.”

  Willoughby grinned and lowered his voice.

  “How old are you, Nick?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “When was the last time you screwed someone younger than yourself?”

  Nick stared at the table and scratched his head. Finally he looked up.

  “I don’t remember,” he said. “Maybe never. I started pretty young, and it was always easier to get older women.”

  “Then you’re overdue. What if I told you that I know where you can get a seventeen year-old girl who looks better than anything you’ve ever seen in a holoporn vid?”

  Nick blinked and swallowed. “A virgin?”

  “Not quite, but damn close. A virgin would cost you a hell of a lot more, and virginity is overrated anyway.”

  Nick swallowed again, his breathing becoming labored.

  “How much?”

  “Five hundred.”

  “Blonde or brunette?”

  “Take your pick.”

  Nick gaped in surprise. “You’ve got two of ‘em?”

  Willoughby laughed and placed a hand on his arm.

  “Easy, boy. One at a time. You interested?”

  “Mister, I ain’t only interested, I’m in love. Just tell me where they are!”

  Nick had no opportunity to give Murray a heads-up; he and Willoughby left the bar as soon as Nick had finished his beer, stopped in the men’s room to empty their bladders, then Willoughby led him on a round-about tour of the asteroid that was obviously designed to confuse him. He didn’t complain; intent on finding one or both of the missing girls, he was willing to take whatever chances necessary, and had no illusions that Willoughby was his friend.

  They walked for twenty minutes, long enough to tour the entire asteroid twice. They went down ladders, up a lift, through a section of private quarters, into a storage bay and out the other side, down another lift, through a narrow tunnel, all the while passing through barriers marked NO ADMITTANCE – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. They finally arrived at what appeared to be an external pod on the outside of the asteroid, and if Nick’s sense of direction meant anything, it was at the opposite end of the habitat from the parking bay.