An excerpt from the Encyclopedia Galactica, 2345
Edition: The Colonization Era took it's first
faltering steps with the discovery of the first faster
than light spacedrives. Once given the opportunity to
flee a hideously overcrowded Earth, Mars or Venus
humans leapt at the chance, scattering outward from
their cradle worlds in a wave of ships. Some were part
of organized colony expeditions while other were
thrown together at the spur of the moment but the
opening up of a new frontier called them all.
The dimly lit tavern was quiet, the wooden
floor covered by a thin layer of dust. The sun beat
down outside, a dry heat hanging in the air and making
everyone feel sweaty and uncomfortable. Still, the
beautiful redhead seemed largely unaffected by the
climate as she raised her eyebrow from something the
man had said.
"What do you mean there's a ship coming in a
two days, Larry?" Bonnie asked.
"Exactly that," Larry wiped the dusty metal
counter, the older man in the battered white apron
frowning slightly until he could see his reflection in
the glossy material, "the mayor got a message from the
high orbitals about a warp transit at the edge of the
system." He smiled slightly, "And he wants you on the
welcoming committee, Bonnie."
"He's really scrapping the bottom of the
barrel," Bonnie said archly, the tight little dress
she wore hugging her generously endowed frame,
"considering that I run the town brothel."
"You're also one of the few of us to have a
high end education," Larry reminded her, his black
hair falling into his eyes, "you can even fake
cultured, if you have to."
"So some group of fools are out here visiting
the backside of beyond," Bonnie quietly speculated,
"but I wonder why?"
"It gets better," Larry shook his head. As
Bonnie looked at him curiously he said, "It looks like
it's a transit capable personal craft, which means
wealthy."
"Damn," Bonnie's eyes widened. The cost of a
warp transit capable craft was far beyond a single
person's means, normally, which meant whoever was
coming here had serious money or at least worked for
someone like that.
"Exactly," Larry agreed. He turned to the
bottles along the back wall of the bar, pulling down a
flask of simulated brandy and pouring her a drink as
he continued on, "The Mayor is taking a delegation out
to the old landing field to meet him or her, made up
of a few business representatives and a few
councilors. Do you mind going, too?"
"I doubt that someone is coming here for
pleasure," Bonnie pointed out, setting the metal coins
on the table to cover her drink.
"Agreed," Larry said as he returned the
container to it's usual place, "but he figures it's
best to cover all of the bases."
"All right, I'll be along," Bonnie agreed,
"now I'd better get going."
"Damn she's fine," Larry sighed softly,
probably thinking Bonnie couldn't hear and the woman
smiled to herself in pleasure.
Bonnie walked out through the swinging half
doors, pausing to look over the small town, if you
wanted to call it that. What had started out as thirty
pre-fabricated structures had slowly swelled to fifty
buildings, some made of local wood and others from
components that had been shipped over, all looking
slightly shabby somehow. The bar here, a weapon's
shop, the grocer up the street, the sheriff's office
across the way and the two story tall City Hall. The
roads were merely packed dirt, wooden sidewalks lining
main street, and horses were tied up in front of
several buildings by watering troughs. Bonnie smiled
as she saw her own place just up the street, the lower
floor a dance hall and the upper floor made up of
small bedrooms.
"Mother warned me the frontier was rough and
filled with dangerous men," Bonnie muttered to herself
as she moved off, "silly me, I just thought it was a
selling point."
An excerpt from the Encyclopedia Galactica, 2345
Edition, continued: .... the rapid technological drop
off out on the frontier was largely economic based.
Shipping a piece of advanced technology out to a new
colony was expensive, not to mention any replacement
parts or other support. Instead of shipping a
hover-transport it was more economical to ship a herd
of horses, literally self-reproducing transport. A
pulser weapon quickly ran out of energy charges while
an primitive pistol could be re-armed using locally
produced materials. And so on...
The sun had just risen when they saw the
silvery spark far up in the sky. They stood by the old
landing pad, a sheet of bare rock that had been fused
early on in the colony's history when they had been
more hopeful for visitors. Haven was too far from the
commercial routes, though, and it had little to draw a
potential tourist there, so the landing pad went
largely unused.
'Which makes me wonder why someone is coming
here in the first place?' Bonnie shook her head. She
looked at Mayor Phillips, "Any more information?"
Phillips shook his head, his bald spot
brightly shining in the fall sunlight. "I got a
download from the ship's automated beacon but it's not
very useful," he said, "the Sweet Charity, a private
craft licensed off of New Terra."
"New Terra," Larry raised an eyebrow, his
steely gray hair crisp and dressed in his best Sunday
suit, "don't they have a bad reputation?"
"They're supposed to not ask too many
questions when licensing, anyway," Rei noted, the
grocer's daughter standing in for her busy father. Her
mane of golden hair flowed down her back, the summer
dress she wore a bit too short for modesty.
"Here it comes," Phillips cut them off.
The vessel came down with a rumble and
displacement of air, steam pouring off of it's
battered outer skin, the occasional long burn streak
left on the surface. It was thirty feet long, a blocky
wedge with it's atmospheric wings deployed on either
side. On the top and sides blocky shapes were mounted,
looking oddly sinister on the small craft.
"Are those weapons mounts on there?" Bonnie
said softly, her green eyes narrowed.
There was a loud thump as the vessel came
down, resting there as it rapidly cooled from the heat
of atmospheric reentry. Finally the side hatch of the
vessel split away from the hull, a ramp suddenly
dropping with a clang on to the bare rock.
"Ah, welcome to Haven, I'm the Mayor...," the
mayor stepped up to say only to trail off when they
saw the figure appear in the hatch.
"Well, well," the slim young man walked down
to the group and took a look around him, black hair
that matched the long coat that he wore, "the
reception committee." A stylized symbol was on a patch
on his shoulder and just below it several star shaped
insignia.
"Gunslinger," Rei whispered, recognizing the
symbol almost instantly, counting with a certain sick
fascination the emblems of each of the kills he had
made.
"I prefer licensed independent peacekeeper,"
he drew a card from his coat pocket and passed it to
the mayor, "Jan Clark."
"Are you here on business or pleasure, Mr.
Clark?" Phillips asked, looking down glumly at the
official identity card licensing him as a gunslinger
before handing it back.
"Business," Jan answered him crisply, "though
I'll try to keep any disruption to your community to a
bare minimum." He looked about, "Do you have a town
sheriff?"
"Yes, we do," Bonnie said coolly, studying the
young man. She was a bit surprised at closely shaved
he was, his chin was completely bare.
Jan looked her over thoughtfully before simply
nodding, "Thanks."
Larry puffed out a nervous breath, "May I ask
who you've come for?"
"No," Jan answered him bluntly. He ignored the
bartender before turning to the mayor, "I'll be in
town in a few hours, I'd like to see your sheriff
then." With that he simply strode back aboard the
ship, sealing up the hatch behind him.
"That was polite," Rei shook her head as the
group piled into the city's only advanced transport,
an old carrier buggy left over from the colonial wars.
"Ooof," Bonnie grit her teeth as they hit a
bump, the vehicle bouncing. "Any idea why he's coming
here?" she asked.
"I wish I knew," Phillips said grimly as he
mused, "I don't think anyone here has a bounty that
someone like that could be after." He thumped the dash
angrily, "Why does someone like that have to come
here, damn it?!"
An excerpt from the Encyclopedia Galactica, 2345
Edition, continued: ... as the colonies rapidly
expanded outward the maintenance of law and order
became increasingly difficult to manage. Police
jurisdiction often ended at the edge of a planet's
atmosphere and once a criminal got off planet he or
she often got away scott free. The offering up of
bounties for a criminal's capture, return or even
death was originally resisted but it was ultimately
seen as the only practical solution. In response a
whole class of individual came forth, operatives who
were quite willing to do whatever it took to earn
those bounties.
A few hours later the small two wheel bike
came to a stop out by the edge of the town, the rider
looking on coolly. Jan wrinkled his nose at the scent
of manure, both the human and animal kind, then he
started up the bike again to coast into town. He
quickly scanned the buildings, eventually spotting the
traditional five pointed star of the sheriff's office.
Dismounting Jan could feel eyes on him and he
twitched his long black coat, making sure that he
could get at his pistol easily. With a sure step he
walked over, opening the plastic door and heading into
the little structure. A desk was in one corner of the
room, an improvised door added to the back wall
presumably leading out to the rough brick cells he had
seen riding up.
'I've seen worse,' Jack thought as the man
came out of the back room, 'and more than once.'
The sheriff was surprisingly a older woman,
her long hair going to gray and round glasses perched
on the end of her nose. The impression she first gave
was motherly until you looked into her blue eyes, then
you realized that this wasn't someone to mess with.
"So," she settled behind the desk before giving him a
look, "Jan Clark?"
"Obviously the planetary files haven't been
updated with the guild," Jan took out his card as he
continued, "they list Aristotle Gallant as sheriff."
"He was my husband," she explained as she took
it from him, "he died a few years back, in a stupid
accident." She studied the card for a moment as she
added, "I'm Heather Gallant." She looked Jan over
thoughtfully before mildly noting, "I'm well aware
that New Terra would license a serial killer if he
just waved around enough money."
Jan smiled just slightly, "You can check out
my record if you like, I play by the rules."
Heather just shrugged. "We don't have the tech
out here to do that," a moments pause, "as you know."
All business she continued, "So what can I do for
you?"
The disk was casually placed on top of the
desk, then Jan pressed on the side to activate the
self-contained holographic projector inside. A image
of an older man appeared, smiling, his suit neatly
pressed and neat, almost looking like a politician
running for office. He wore glasses, the lenses
gleaming, and his face was open and friendly. Text
scrolled along the bottom, detailing name and the
codes indicating the charges he was facing.
"His name is Taylor," Jan unnecessarily said
as he pulled up a seat, looking suddenly tired as he
sat down, "he's been convicted of fraud and several
other minor and major offenses, but he still has a
murder trial coming up."
"So he skipped to try and escape the rap,"
Heather offered.
"You got it," Jan deactivated the hologram and
then slipped it away in his coat as he asked her, "so
do you recognize him?"
"He looks familiar," Heather acknowledged,
"like someone from the most recent group of
homesteaders." She looked apologetic, "I can't be
certain, however."
"That's fair enough," Jan rubbed at his eyes,
looking clearly tired. "So do the homesteaders come to
town very often?" he asked.
Heather looked at Jan without commenting then,
"And if you do see him, are you just going to gun him
down?"
Jan shook his head, his expression mildly
irritable. "I want him to stand trial," he said
firmly, "the man deserves to face the punishment for
his crimes."
Heather nodded thoughtfully, clearly weighing
his words. "All right," she said, "there's a cattle
drive and fair in a few days, the homesteaders almost
have to come in for supplies and to sell whatever
they've managed to raise or grow."
"Thanks," Jan got up, resting a hand on the
back of the chair. With a wry smile he asked, "Looks
like I'm stuck in town a few days, is there a hotel or
anything?"
"The hotel is pretty much booked up for the
cattle drive," Heather answered, "but I think you
might be able to get a room at Bonnie's, if you don't
mind the company."
"Bonnie's is?" Jan raised a elegant eyebrow.
"The town dance hall and whore house," Heather
said simply.
Jan turned to walk out of the office, a wry
smile on his face as he said mildly, "I've probably
stayed in worse before."
'Whoever he is,' Heather found herself
thinking as the door opened and shut to let Jan out of
the office, 'he isn't just a typical bounty hunter.'
The sun beat down as Jan stepped outside on
the wooden sidewalk, shading her face from the glare.
'Better grab a hat,' he thought as he saw the children
gathered around his bike, looking at it in
fascination. "Buzz off," he said to them curtly as he
collected the vehicle, the fleeing kids as frightened
by his being a stranger as his tone of voice.
A visit to the little hotel, really just a
bunch of roughly connected prefabs, pretty much
confirmed what Heather had just said. Not only did
they not have any rooms now but they weren't going to
have any open up soon, either. Jan went outside,
getting his bearings then headed up the boardwalk to
where Bonnie's place was.
The sound of a piano playing reached the
street as Jan reached it and he was pleasantly
surprised by how good it sounded. The twin doors swung
open easily as he walked in, scanning the room with
wary eyes. Attractive young women danced out on the
floor with young men, the place not too crowded this
time of day. The man behind the bar gave him an
unfriendly glance, serving drinks with casual
capability while a young woman played the piano that
was sitting in the corner.
A woman Jan recognized from the reception
committee stood by the bar, their eyes meeting as Jan
entered, a quizzical look appearing on her face.
'Wonderful,' Jan thought as she skirted the edge of
the dance floor, 'I wonder how bad of an first
impression I made earlier?'
A dainty blonde, her long dress swirling
around her legs, swiftly made her way from where a
group of young women waited patiently. As she neared
Jan noticed how dangerously low the front of her dress
was cut, the rising swell of her breasts boldly
visible. "Hi," her breath smelt faintly of whisky as
she put her hand on Jan's arm and purred, "would you
like to... dance?"
Jan felt his cheeks redden, doing his best not
to look down into the valley between her breasts.
"Sorry," he croaked, "I'm here to see Bonnie?"
The woman looked disappointed but back off a
bit. "She's up at the bar," the girl nodded to the
redhead. With a slight smile she turned away, rounded
hips swaying wickedly as she added, "I hope you'll
come see me again.. later."
Jan reached the bar and Bonnie smiled, sipping
some of her drink. "Sorry if Angel was a bit
aggressive," she offered, "but she likes the boys,
especially the good looking ones."
"Then she'd probably be disappointed," Jan
muttered.
"Huh?" Bonnie blinked.
"Never mind," Jan shook his head, "I was
talking to the sheriff earlier, she mentioned you
might have a room available?"
"One of my girls left to get married," Bonnie
said, clearly enjoying the discomfort on Jan's face as
she continued, "I suppose I could let you rent it for
a few days."
"Thank you," Jan said with as much dignity as
he could muster.
After collecting a bag from his cycle outside
Jan was lead up the stairs to the bedrooms, thankfully
by Bonnie and not the aggressive Angel. "Meals will be
had with me and the girls," she said as she opened up
the door to a clean and comfortable looking room, "and
you're on the corner so the noise shouldn't be so
bad."
Jan thanked her again then puffed out a sigh
of relief as the woman left. Smoothly he stripped his
long coat off, fingering the gunslinger emblem on the
shoulder a moment before setting it aside. The sweaty
white shirt was swiftly unbuttoned, and as he was
puling it off the door opened again.
"By the way I wanted to ask..." Bonnie started
to say only to freeze.
Bandages tightly circled Jan's slim chest,
squeezing down her small breasts to create the
illusion of a flat if muscular chest. Without the
shirt of coat to hide it the absence of an Adam's
apple was telling, as was the lack of any facial hair.
Jan puffed out a sigh as the woman calmly
asked Bonnie, "Could you please close the door?"
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