Gauntlet

by Matthew C. Gill

  Episode 6 – The Memories Make the Man

  The walk down the street wasn’t exactly a long harrowing affair nor was it what you would call a scenic experience either. But the short jaunt did give Marshall a few moments for his mind to wander about. And for better or worse he found his memories once more drifting back on matters that he tried not to think about all too often. They were things that had undoubtedly shaped him and led him to this particular point in his life. Even though they weren’t times he particularly treasured.

  Growing up he had spent his days playing games like heroes and villains where he always had to be the good guy. It was a simple childhood fantasy to be sure, but he always relished those innocent clear renderings of right and wrong that seemed so intrinsic to a kid’s view of reality. He savored every story about how special people were out there fighting against those who broke the law or sought to hurt others. It was a keystone in the foundation of everything he held dear about the world.

  But with time and age came a new understanding. As he grew up more and more he began to look for some evidence of those courageous champions of society. Marshall would look around every corner for some sign of a savior stopping some source of sin or slight. Yet the older he became the more he realized there simply was no superhero standing sentry to safeguard them. By the time he had already grown into a young man he had all but given up hope for heroes that he had always held in his heart.

  And then he heard the stories about the stoic soldiers who served the New Republic valiantly. Perhaps there was still some among those ranks who fought the good fight for the safety and security of all. So without a second thought Marshall rushed out to sign up for service. It was a proud day for him; one he thought was going to be the proudest day of his life.

  Instead it was a defining decision that brought with it a dark depressive depth to his already shattered dreams. For once he joined and entered into the recruit program he found a pervasive poison of profound misconduct. At first he felt compelled to report every misdeed or breech of behavior. He charged like some crusading champion to demand justice be done to those who sullied the name of every soldier to bear the banner of the New Republic.

  But, much to his dismay only blind eyes and deaf ears awaited him. Before long he found himself earning only irritation and reprimand for repeatedly bringing such reports to his superiors for actions they deemed as expected offenses. It didn’t take long for his peers to take note of his criticism or how often he vanished to seek out an officer. And it took them even less time to decide amongst themselves that the little do-gooder had to be taught a lesson in minding his own business.

  Eventually Marshall found himself painfully paying for every thought of doing his duty to uphold the ideals he had signed on to protect. By the time he had graduated from the training program he had completely removed all notions of appropriate conduct from his mind. Instead he simply focused his full attention towards obeying orders and with any luck he might find himself assigned somewhere where he could make a difference fighting to keep people safe. At least perhaps then he could rest with some relief that he had managed to live up to his own reasons for joining in the first place.

  He could even recall one of his first assignments; it was a small civilian settlement where some harmless incident had been reported. But it had managed to catch the notice of some superior or politician somewhere who had decided to send a small detachment in to investigate. They had been order to ease or alleviate any fears and deal with the matter using their best judgment. In retrospect Marshall should have taken that as his first clue that something was bound to go wrong. He should have anticipated it but instead he had just assumed things would be different than back when they were just recruits in training.

  Everything had happened so expectedly at first, the whole deployment had been completely by the numbers. And then he and his partner had been ordered to check out a few buildings at the end of the street. Nothing of any importance had even occurred at all so far, not even a single firefight or conflict of any kind. The whole trip had been completely one routine review of their training program. So Marshall had relaxed his guard a bit and figured after this final check they would be done and on their way back to base.

  His partner had entered into the last building to take a quick check of the place and Marshall had stayed in position out front to stand guard. All in all he figured they were just going through the final motions before declaring their mission complete. But after awhile when his partner hadn’t returned he began to get curious. He couldn’t just abandon his post or else he risked being written up and odds were it was just nothing anyways.

  Eventually there was a commotion inside that prompted Marshall to reconsider his decision about investigating followed shortly by his partner reappearing in the doorway grinning and slightly disheveled. “What happened,” he remembered asking. Those words were the last clear memory he had that he could recall. What happened next had become a matter of official record that according to his trial claimed he had brutally pummeled another soldier until he had to be restrained by force. No motive was mentioned, and only a few vague references to a victimized young woman any indication of a possible reason for the violent reaction.

  It was his first and last time wearing the uniform in the name of the New Republic as one of its armed forces. After that he had found himself sentenced to a prison cell with only the knowledge that he could have prevented what had happened. Instead of waiting or looking for some hero if he had just went in as well he could have acted. Even if he had simply checked in on his partner instead of waiting outside obediently he might have been rewarded with the consolation his conscience desperately demanded. Instead he was tormented inside far more than any bars or walls could have ever punished him.

  The anguish of his past still pained him as it replayed itself in his head. But he didn’t want to dwell on it now; he had come to Redemption to move past it. With some effort he called up his will and pushed the images back down out of his thoughts. He needed to find a place called ‘General Good’ or some such and ask for Grandma. Composing himself with a deep breath Marshall closed his eyes and focused on the task he had set for himself.

  “Good day Grandma Grael, My name is Marshall Lawson and Miss Donovaen mentioned the possibility that you might be a woman of some mercy,” he practiced aloud. Content that it sounded sufficiently sympathetic Marshall sighed once more and then made the turn around the corner. All he had to do now was find this place, talk a little old lady into a place to stay and hope no questions about his past came up. Seemed like a simple enough plan, but he knew better than to expect anything going according to plan. Nothing ever truthfully did in his opinion.

  Episode 7 – Greetings from Grandma

  A weather-worn placard hung on the wall by an old wooden doorway reading General Good. It almost looked like some space on the time-tormented title had forgotten a letter or two but Marshall had no way to know for sure. As far as he could tell it could have just been the aged look to the old shop’s sign.

  Standing outside the store was a small shopkeeper who looked to be barely 5 feet tall, all things told, and older than Marshall was willing to reckon. The grey haired granny moved with strength of purpose as she swept off the outside of her store with experienced ease. There was not even a slight hint of weakness or inability present in the miniature merchant as she carried herself without any pretext of poise. Something silently spoke from her like a slumbering air of simple truth; this little lady was all business and looked to handle the matter masterfully.

  She would have to, Marshall thought to himself. Anyone who had survived out here to be as old as this working wonder would have to be about as resilient as those regal ridges surrounding the town. Especially while running something like a business in a town besieged by bandits. While Marshall mused about this mysteriously miniature merchant with mettle he found himself strangely taking a liking to her. Although he made a mental note that it might be w
ise not to make a mention of her small stature.

  “Well, you coming or do you plan on sitting out here in the sun all the day long?” The sudden query registered right upside Marshall’s head like he had just been slapped by a school-teacher for daydreaming in class. How had she even known that he had been standing there? He hadn’t even noticed her look over at him, not even once.

  “No doubt you’re new in town and likely have found yourself without coin needing a place to bunk for a bit.” Marshall got the distinct impression that this wasn’t the first time someone had come to Grandma Grael looking for such hospitality. He also realized quite unmistakably that she wasn’t asking why he was here nor had she directed him to seek his sanctuary elsewhere.

  “I, uh,” Marshall began somewhat shaken by her reaction. “I mean to say that Miss Donovaen told me to…” At the mention of the name, Marshall noticed that what the well-dressed woman had said had been proven true. Instantly a pair of sharp cobalt-blue eyes shot up to level themselves squarely upon him. As soon as they did so Marshall could feel a lump form in his throat and his heart skipped a beat.

  He started to curiously contemplate how this small shop-keeper could have such an impact on him with nothing more than a directed glance. But then he realized he had completely forgotten to introduce himself as well. There goes my practiced polite presentation he thought to himself and hoped it wouldn’t hurt his chances to earn her good graces.

  “Terra told you to come see me did she,” Grandma casually commented before turning to head back inside. “Now that is something then, come on. And unless you’re in the habit of waiting about to make an old lady have to ask you for your name I would suggest you offer one up. Otherwise you might find yourself sorely discovering my disdain for abiding any rude behavior.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Marshall tried to find the words to form an apology but instead decided it best to skip straight passed the matter. “My name is Marshall Lawson,” he declared quickly as he moved to follow her inside. “And to be frank, ma’am I wouldn’t have even found myself requiring your charity presently but I used the last of my funds to right a matter of some moral inequity. Otherwise I would have happily paid my due for a room.”

  Suddenly spinning on her heels Grandma Grael shot back another stare that might as well have been a gunshot for how it disarmed him. “So you’re a man who lets your heart have the reins instead of your head then?” Grandma Grael once more held the tone of someone explaining a matter more so than anyone asking a question. She also wasn’t about to resist speaking further about exactly what she was thinking on the matter.

  “Out here it isn’t wise for any man to ignore his wits and allow his actions to be driven solely by his feelings. Just because you find yourself feeling guilty for another doesn’t mean you need to hand over all that you have to change the matter. While it might be admirable to lend your hand to another who finds theirs empty you have to remember that by doing so you end up allowing your own to become likewise. Now you are yourself dependant on another for a helping hand are you not? And what then if there is no other willing hand to lend to you in aid?”

  “With all due respect ma’am,” Marshall tried to interrupt, to defend his actions, only to be cut off coldly before he could even try. “Don’t you dare even try to ‘with all due respect me’ pup,” Grandma Grael advised. “My point is made, and you would do well to make it a permanent addition to your memory. Now unless you’d like to talk me out of being hospitable then I would recommend you keep your mouth shut and your ears open.”

  Obediently Marshall silenced all the rushing words that wanted to find their way out in explanation. If this might be his best odds for finding a place to put his head for the night he didn’t dare ruin his chances any further. Something told him that while he could perhaps find some place to shut his eyes out on the streets overnight that the Sheriff might not think twice about relocating any such drifters to a barred bunk. And he had had his fill of such sights to last him the remainder of his days.

  “Here is how it is going to be, so don’t go thinking for a minute that you’re taking advantage of my own charitable nature or going to get a free stay. Most folk manage to make it to Redemption and often enough is the case find their way here ending without funds. So in exchange for a room and some meals you’re going to be in my service for any odd jobs or occasional tasks that need seeing to. Do we have an understanding?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Marshall agreed, grateful to accept the merciful token of hospitality. “Good then,” Grandma Grael acknowledged and handed him the broom from her hand. “You can put your things in the room at the top of the stairs on the left and then see to sweeping up outside. It tends to stay fairly dusty around here and afterwards I’m sure I’ll have a few other matters for you to tend to.”

  Marshall couldn’t argue as he had already planned on offering to earn his keep even if she hadn’t insisted on it. But he couldn’t help but admit that as charitable as Grandma Grael was there was little doubt that she was just as shrewd. No wonder the merciful merchant had managed to stay in business all these years. He also made a mental note to never ever find himself on the receiving end of her discontentment. Marshall wouldn’t think twice to wager that for those who managed to do so; that they would find themselves facing something likely fearsome enough that it was best left slumbering.

  Episode 8 – The Mayor, Demure

  Marshall had barely finished making one complete circuit outside the shop before he noticed the tale-tell signs of a growing layer of fresh dust draped along the walkway. This had to be one of the most infuriating examples of futile functions anyone had ever had the displeasure of having to perform. Even as tedious and trying as it was to his nerves he also had to admit that it could be infinitely worse.

  “If you’re quite finished for the time being why don’t bring yourself in here for a moment and see to this list I have for you.” Grandma Grael’s voice carried out from behind a crudely crafted counter to bring with it an air of authority. It was something Marshall had decided he would have to get used to sooner or later. He was accustomed to the booming commands and trumpeted threats of drill sergeants; such a soft spoken superior was somewhat strange still.

  Happy to turn to another task Marshall returned inside to see just what manner of duties the merciful merchant had waiting for him now. With him barely through the door good, the clear hum of a purring hover-hauler slid to a halt behind him. The clear hiss of released air as it settled to sit upon the ground snared Marshall easy enough, but something about the grim look it elicited from Grandma made him curious.

  Who could, or for that matter would be cruising around town in one of those notoriously needy machines? He would have thought that anybody out here wouldn’t have the foolishness to try and keep something like that maintained. Besides, it wouldn’t take very long for a hover-hauler to leave you completely stranded if you tried to take it very far outside of town. They had never been known for handling rugged terrain or conditions very well.

  The first figure to emerge from the quieting contraption was a short and slender girl dressed in feminine fashion in a form fitting suit that was blacker than a moonless night. Matching mirrored shades masked her eyes from view as she immediately took up a position by the door and began patiently patrolling the perimeter by panning her head back and forth. There was almost an eager cat like tension to the woman as if she eagerly awaited a single twitch that might allow her to spring into action.

  After a few long moments and a couple of briefly blustering breezes a second woman appeared this one with an almost regal bearing. Every movement held the hallmark of a choreographed and practiced routine. On another world she might have had another life, a high class model perhaps. But Marshall couldn’t see there being much call for a model on Newport. Even as qualified for the job as this lady looked.

  She was easily as tall as Marshall, if maybe a hair taller but that could have been helped by the shinning steel tipped heels that a
ccented her feet. Long loose hair hung like a curtain that fell to cascade over her shoulders as it burned brightly in the sunlight. The light of day seemed to add a subtle shade of red where there otherwise might not have been any to her golden hair. Hugging her ample curves was a brilliant dress of royal blue that managed to keep luring Marshall’s eyes back to re-examine it.

  By the time she had crossed the distance to the doorway Marshall had only just realized his rudeness and had to quickly remove his hat. But instead of noticing his nearly missed act of etiquette, an icy entrance devoid of introduction brushed past him as if he was some invisible fixture attached to the floor. “Greeting’s ma’am,” Marshall told the silently suited associate as she shadowed behind her fashionable friend. An empty sneer was the only reply he received in return for his remark.

  “Official business I am afraid,” the well dressed woman commented coldly as she came to a stop before Grandma Grael. “We’re dealing with a dispute and I thought it might alleviate some animosity by bringing some provisions with me. It is a Mayor’s duty to see after the people of the town after all.”

  “Don’t you mean take advantage of any opportunity to secure more loyal voters to your continual campaign?” Grandma Grael’s alternate explanation was met by a brief polite smile that neatly hid a lack of humor found in the statement. “Either way it matters little about motives, you know full well that if folks are in need I will do my part to aid them. Just spare us the sauntering sally routine Demure, we both know you don’t do anything without making sure it benefits you in some manner.”