Welcome back! This is the last posting of Red Star Sheriff! The Epilogue! Thanks for reading all the way through (if you did, of course) and I hope to read to you all again soon! Please leave your thoughts and opinions in the comment section as to how you thought the story was. What worked. What didn’t. What did you enjoy. What did you hate. Whatever is on your mind. I enjoy publishing these works to you all and am working on new material all the time. So, until next time, I am Timothy Scott Purvis and THIS is Story Time With Tim!
Red Star Sheriff is a work inspired by several sources. First off, it is a sort of light homage to the Dark Tower series written by Stephen King. It doesn’t go overboard with the inferences, but the travails of a lead character who isn’t very emotional overall lends the weight to a protagonist who will go out of her way to get the job done. Secondly, this work was initially inspired by the video game series, Wild Arms. I had once considered this sort of an anime’ in literary form. A high octane lead character driven to become the best gunslinger in the solar system. Third, and definitely not least, I drew significant inspiration for overarching details from the show Westworld.
Many elements came together to make this work what it is. It is a long story coming in at just under 190 thousand words in total. Yet, it is a quick read, if I do say so myself with a lot of intense action and interesting characters. I’ll post links below for where to find this novel in its complete form so feel free to support the cause and check them out. I will also include links for prior chapters and postings throughout this venture so that it will be easy to keep pace of where the story has been so that the reader can keep up with the story.
Anyhow, Aidele Wilson is the lead protagonist. Her father was murdered so the story starts out with a quest for revenge. Then, a journal he’d written becomes the focus of a fast paced journey across the Wastelands trying to evade Union soldiers who want the journal for what lies within its pages: key technology specs that will alter the balance of power in all of the colonies.
Thanks for reading and read to you again next week! See you then.
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ACT ONE
RSS Chapter One Part One, RSS Chapter One Part Two, RSS Chapter Two Part One, RSS Chapter Two Part Two, RSS Chapter Two Part Three, RSS Chapter Two Part Four, RSS Chapter Two Part Five, RSS Chapter Three Part One, RSS Chapter Three Part Two, RSS Chapter Four Part One, RSS Chapter Four Part Two, RSS Chapter Four Part Three, RSS Chapter Five Part One, RSS Chapter Five Part Two, RSS Chapter Six Part One, RSS Chapter Six Part Two, RSS Chapter Seven Part One, RSS Chapter Seven Part Two
ACT TWO
RSS Chapter Eight Part One, RSS Chapter Eight Part Two, RSS Chapter Nine Part One, RSS Chapter Nine Part Two, RSS Chapter Ten, RSS Chapter Eleven Part One, RSS Chapter Eleven Part Two, RSS Chapter Eleven Part Three, RSS Chapter Twelve Part One, RSS Chapter Twelve Part Two, RSS Chapter Twelve Part Three, RSS Chapter Thirteen
ACT THREE
RSS Chapter Fourteen Part One, RSS Chapter Fourteen Part Two, RSS Chapter Fifteen Part One, RSS Chapter Fifteen Part Two, RSS Chapter Sixteen Part One, RSS Chapter Sixteen Part Two, RSS Chapter Seventeen Part One, RSS Chapter Seventeen Part Two, RSS Chapter Eighteen Part One, RSS Chapter Eighteen Part Two, RSS Chapter Nineteen Part One, RSS Chapter Nineteen Part Two, RSS Chapter Nineteen Part Three, RSS Chapter Nineteen Part Four, RSS Chapter Nineteen Part Five, RSS Chapter Twenty
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RED STAR SHERIFF: ACT THREE: EPILOGUE~WHAT WAS LEFT UNSAID~
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EPILOGUE: WHAT WAS LEFT UNSAID
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WORRYING THE PAST
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COLIN ‘JACKS’ JACKSON sat atop of his horse staring back at Rented City. The place was a rundown ramshackle town out in the middle of nowhere. The people were vicious (and not in a good way, he didn’t suppose), the food practically rotten, the water stagnant, and the horses looked at the end of their ropes. It was a joke it called itself a ‘city’. Sure, it had five good ‘roads’ crossing its perimeters, but most of the passageways were alleys where seedy outlaws took pleasure in murdering and raping. Not the sort of people he’d have ever associated with, not even in his youth. These were the kind of folk (dirty, puke coated men mostly) that gave criminality a bad reputation. And he was glad to be done with the place.
For practically the last week, he’d been tracking down a young woman by the name of Caitlyn. General Berricks had reached out to him, made the request. At first, he politely declined. But Berricks’ silent, steely gaze changed his perspective right quick.
‘Well, since ya put it that way, general, ah’d be honored ta find yer daughter sir.’ Honored. There was another joke he couldn’t wait to be done with. The search needed to end and soon. The Union was coming back, he could feel it, and he wanted his family nowhere near them when they did.
Which was why he was done with this mission. He’d done what Berricks had asked. And, lucky him, he’d discovered that the young Ms. Caitlyn Berricks (running under the name of Caitlyn Terrance—which, apparently, was her previous married name), had been murdered some years earlier. Raped, murdered, and then hung up to dry as a message to those who sought to stand against the local thug in charge. Not that she was agitating against the wannabe overlord of the time, Jacks had discovered. No, she’d just made the unconscionable decision to not be said overlord’s wench. He hadn’t taken kindly to that. And that left General Berricks’ only daughter five years or more buried as a result. She’d had a daughter, he’d discovered, but no one remembered her name and she had long since fled the town. That was a dead end he didn’t feel like pursuing any further. As far as Jacks was concerned, they were both dead. And he didn’t care to know why Caitlyn had fled. Only that she had. And that was more than enough to convince Jacks the time had come to get the hell off of Hinon. Sure, his wife was laying into him about the upheaval to family life, about how it would destroy her career with the school marm’s association she belonged to, but there were no two ways about the issue. He was going to turn back now, gather up his family (the wife, two kids), and beat it off world tomorrow if at all possible. He had enough clout in Aquila mons for that, he figured.
Jacks twisted his horse around, gave one final look at the grave in the small cemetery at the edge of town (looking right at the unmarked grave where Mrs. Terrance, aka Ms. Berricks, had been lain to rest), and then turned to ride out for the nearest shuttle terminal. He’d been in a few fights over the last few days and his face was tired from absorbing all the fists from angry outlaws who didn’t want to share so much about the locals. They all shared in the end, of course. Jacks just had a real way with words, after all. But what he had heard was more than enough to tell him the general wasn’t ever going to find closer with his young princess. The scent of the graveyard hung heavy over the area and Jacks was too eager to get away from the place.
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JACKS WAS BACK in Aquila Mons before evening fell and made a quick stop by the cruise liner bureau. There, he purchased four tickets bound for Titan, and then made for home to pack. When he entered his apartment on the twenty sixth floor of the midtown economies, he was greeted by his wife, Hestia. She gave him a deep kiss and a genuinely bright smile.
“Glad you got back home alright, honeybear. Been missin’ you something fierce since you’ve been gone. You manage to get your affairs sorted out there?”
They disengaged from their embrace and he pulled off his holster and jacket. “Oh yeah. Got it right figured out. Gonna hafta make a call here real soon. Then… well, love, ah’ve got something ah need ta tell ya.”
Hestia shook her head and crossed her arms. “This isn’t about you wantin’ to get off world again, is it? I told you, there’s nothing going on, and there’s nothing to be fearful of. The Council has everything in hand. We haven’t needed to worry about the Union in decades.”
Jacks sat down on the couch and yanked his boots off, some sand came flowing out of one and he absently wondered when the hell that had happened. “Ya may be right, darlin’, but ah ain’ takin’ any chances. Ah booked us a trip ta Titan on the morrow morn. Gonna jet by ten. Least let a few weeks go by to allow things ta cool down round here.”
“Are you serious!? Damnit, Colin! You can’t go makin’ decisions like this without consulting me!”
“Woman, ah wouldn’t hafta make decisions like this if’n ya weren’t so gawddamned stubborn! Jus’ make sure’n the kids’re well rested. We leave in the mornin’. Look, if’n things’re good, we’ll be back in two weeks. Okay?”
He drooped his arms over his knees and stared up at her, his eyes pleading with her to understand. At first, Hestia stared at him with her narrowed eyes. But, after a minute, relented.
“Alright. So long as this isn’t permanent.”
“Ah really hope not. But, fer now, it’s jus’ a vacation, alright?”
She sighed. “Alright.”
“Do me a favor, pack up the kids’ suitcases for the time, kay? Ah’m serious ‘bout leavin’ early.” He stood up and gave her a hug. “Ah gotta make a call. Will ya do that fer me?”
Hestia had a small sort of panic in her eyes but she nodded. “Yeah. I don’t like it, but I’ll do it. Only because I love you so much. But this had better not be like that time with the squid.”
“We ain’ speakin’ o’that squid ever ‘gain! That sumabitch was ornerier than a dog on wetlands dank.”
“Uh huhn.”
He smiled at her and entered his private den to the back of the apartment. He booted up his holoprojector and input the contact information for the Invicta. The connection buzzed for several long minutes but no one ever picked up. He frowned. Now, what do ya suppose that means?
Jacks decided that if Berricks didn’t mean to hear out what he found, then he didn’t need to go out of his way to tell him about it. He went to bed and then woke up bright and early. It took a couple of hours to wrangle up the kids, get the wife awake, make breakfast, and pack up the private shuttle to head to the departure terminals. It was almost eleven o’clock before they were aboard the interspatial cruiser heading out into the outer colonies. Jacks had told his wife it’d only be a couple of weeks. However, he knew the journey to Titan would take at least that amount of time. Whatever they discovered upon arrival would either ease his mind or set him more on edge.
They found their seats. Got settled in. The kids were at each other’s throats as usual with Hestia trying to play peacemaker. The ship left space dock and headed away from orbit when the worst happened. Jacks saw it first and only stared. Hestia screamed once it all began in earnest. The Union ship Invicta came around the edge of the twilight terminus, then opened fire on Aquila Mons. The city rippled under the force of the projectiles. They could see it from their viewport. It was only one shot at a time at first. But after a few minutes, all the portside cannons had opened up.
“Oh my god! Colin! Colin! What are they doing!? Why are they doing that!? Our home! Our city! Colin! Say something!”
Jacks was quiet for a long moment only mumbling in response afterwards, “It’s just as ah said, honeybear. Union’s done come fer us all…”
She cried and only then was he aware of the toll it was taking on her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close as their children struggled to see out the windows. The whole passenger section abuzz with fear and disbelief. The captain’s voice said that they should all buckle in for safety as the jump to subspace was about to be initiated. That would take them away from this horror show in the interim. But Jacks knew this was just the beginning and wished he’d ignored Berricks’ request from the get go. Sumabitch has come back ta git his reckonin’… We ain’ gonna let it stand. No, sir. Someone’s gonna git his number. Ah jus’ know it.
To his wife he whispered into her ear, “It’s alright, mah love. We’re gonna be fine. It’s horrible now, but it’s not forever, okay?”
She nodded slowly into his chest watching the rising flames spark out of the shielding surrounding Aquila Mons as it collapsed. And then, there was only the dust. The cruiser jumped and that was the last they ever saw of Hinon.
#
RUNNIN’ O’THE BULLS
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TREVOR BIGGS AND Willis Wedge sat in a tavern in Donnor’s Drop waiting for word from Lieutenant Nielson. They’d already been there a couple of days and had yet to hear anything from Nielson or any other Union personnel. In fact, they were the only two Union related persons in the whole of the small town some forty miles north of Aquila Mons. Most of the inhabitants of Donnor’s Drop didn’t much care for either Biggs or Wedge and it was becoming a thornier issue every hour they remained. It was becoming even clearer that they would have to do more than merely wait for word.
“I’m not kidding,” Wedge said sucking down another swig of beer. “We need to just jump on the shuttle and high tail it back to the Invicta.”
Biggs shook his heavy, bushy topped head and clapped his palm on the tabletop. “We were given directives by Lieutenant Nielson to wait here for further instructions. I ain’t aiming to go against orders.”
“There isn’t going to be any further orders, Biggs. I can feel it.”
“You always were a panicky sort, Wedge. Give it a little more time.”
Wedge stared hopelessly into his mug. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. Sure, old Mattie done patched up my shoulder, but I can’t shake the feeling that we’re in the line of fire still. Like, something big is coming for us all.”
“You’re just panicking again. Mr. Nielson has taken care of that crazy young girl and will be here by the end of the day. I guarantee it.”
They sat there a moment longer, not realizing that the tavern had suddenly gotten really quiet and two men were approaching their table from the bar. The men, grizzly looking with scratchy brown beards and itching gun arms, stood a few feet away glaring down at the two. Neither noticed the men until one cleared his throat and growled.
“This here’s fer local company,” the tallest of the two spoke. His skin deeply tanned from long hours out on the plains of the domain caring for his cattle or tending to the crops. He had a face that was unkind and unfriendly.
Wedge stared up at the man. “Come again?”
Biggs turned to the man as well and knitted his brows. “Sorry, sir. We’re on official business and have no time for whatever festivities you wish us to engage in.”
The man grumbled again and spat on the floor. “Weren’t askin’ ya ta go dancin’. Not in that matter, no way. Time’s fer ya two ta git gittin’n don’ come back.”
Biggs stood up pushing the chair he was in backwards and skidding across the floor. He stood at nearly six-foot five. Though he towered over the gruff man, said man wasn’t intimidated and seem rather angrier as a result. Wedge stood as well, though more tepidly. His height was on par with the angry denizen but his build was stockier.
“Last I checked, this was a free establishment,” Biggs grumbled in return.
Three more men joined these two, all of them of the stock common to the farming community. All of them looking put out that Union boys would be in their ranks.
“Not sure yer hearin’ correctly, son,” an older gentleman towards the rear of these five men spoke. He was clean shaven with graying hair, but his face said he was no less dangerous than the others with him.
Biggs raised a brow. “I heard you just fine, old man. We have just as much right to be sittin’ here as you lot.”
Laughter rung out around the tavern as more men looking to get into a brawl surrounded Biggs and Wedge. Wedge took on a nervous look and seemed poised to dart.
“Hey, Biggs. Why don’t we just leave? I’m not seeing this being worth our time.”
“Oh? We ain’t worth the time o’some no good Union stooges?” a young man behind him said, his drawl thick and obnoxious.
“There’s no reason we should be leaving, Wedge. We still have our mission to consider.”
“I’m not too sure our mission applies to tussling with the locals.”
Before Biggs could retort with his own special amount of levity, a fist broadsided his cheek and he went reeling into their table. And that was when all hell broke loose and Biggs and Wedge were forced to fight their way out to the front of the tavern. They held their own for a goodly bit, knocking out seven guys (four for Biggs and three for Wedge) before managing to find themselves out on the deck surrounding the saloon exterior. Once there, they readied themselves to retreat to their shuttle but instead were greeted by more of the locals waiting for them outside of the tavern.
“Get out of our town, Union cunts!” a woman cried out to much cheering from the dozens surrounding her.
“Oh shit!” Biggs heard Wedge shout and he decided enough was enough and so the two of them ran off the deck and towards the end of town where their shuttle was located.
The locals within the tavern raced out the swinging doors to join the masses giving chase of Biggs and Wedge. Their long legs carried them faster, but not by much as it seemed the whole of the town was right on their posterior. They ran kicking up dust until their lungs were burning under the exertion and yet the townspeople were not letting up their pursuit. Biggs led Wedge up a hillside beyond the edge of town seeing that more people were racing towards them from where their shuttle had ostensibly been parked. It didn’t seem to be there anymore.
“This… isn’t… good… Biggs!” Wedge shouted as they hit the summit of the hill and looked back. They were practically surrounded.
“No, Wedge, this doesn’t look good at all.”
They stood their ground looking down at the whole of the town steamrolling up the hill towards them.
“Is this how our short lives end? Marauded over by the townsfolk of Donnor’s Drop?”
“Certainly can understand where they got the name from, though.”
Biggs and Wedge pulled their arms not wanting to fire on the locals but ready nonetheless. And then the whole of the town stopped, staring up at them with wide eyes.
“Yeah, that’s right! We’re packing heat!” Biggs shouted triumphantly.
And then the townspeople screamed and turned away. Several stood pointing and speaking animatedly. But their conversation wasn’t about Biggs and Wedge. The two of them stared at the sudden reversal of fortune and then turned around, albeit rather slowly given the state they’d found themselves in. Upon inspecting what was the source of the town’s fear, Wedge crossed his chest with his right hand’s finger.
“Oh, Christ, Biggs. Look at that…”
Off on the horizon, Aquila Mons was being destroyed by cannon fire from the skies. There was little doubt what vessel was raining down hell.
“You think Nielson is in there?”
The shadow of the Invicta in orbit was a hazy outline, the firing streaming down hot flashes of red and green turning to a purple roil as the shielding surrounding the city collapsed into nothing. Biggs sighed.
“If he wasn’t, nobody bothered to let us in on it. There’s only one thing for it now.”
“What’s that, Biggs?”
“We need to contact Philadelphia.”
“Ah, yes. That might help us out of this pickle.”
“Wonder if they would’ve told us they were plannin’ this if we were still in the city?”
Wedge stared at him in horror. “You think they would’ve really done that?”
“God, I hope not.”
Sometime later, when they finally found their shuttle and were able to vacate Donnor’s Drop, they both saw the destruction of the Invicta and Biggs decided they had to contact President Lee himself. Not that it was an easy call to make. There were plenty of distractions they found themselves dealing with. But that’s a story for another time.
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PRIDE COMETH BEFORE THE FALL
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TOBIN SONOROS WATCHED the plethora of vessels entering the docking bays seeking private parking hubs for whatever visitations or parties they were arriving for. He hated this season the most as it was always busier than he could ever manage to handle and help was always conveniently away for the holidays. He was just in the middle of arranging paperwork on a new arrival of a solar class pleasure yacht when he was nudged by his secretary, Gloria.
“Sir, your brother is here to see you.”
“Tell him I’m busy!”
“Tell me yourself, you ungrateful little shit!”
Tobin looked up to see Elien standing in the doorway and Gloria beating as hasty of a retreat as she possibly could muster. Tobin sighed and screwed up his face.
“I’m busy! There’s way too much to contend with and, as you should have already been informed, I don’t have time to grab dinner, lunch, breakfast, or coffee with you! You know your own way out!”
Elien growled and walked into Tobin’s office. “Always the ray of sunshine I grew up with. There’s no time for this pettiness, and I’m not here to grab something to eat! I’m here for your cruiser!”
Tobin stood to his full height. He was only a few inches shorter than Elien, but always had an intimidating presence that he lorded over his brother any chance he got. In this instance, however, there was no indication Elien was going to be driven away by any sort of bluster. Then there was the mild shock that he had the audacity to demand his ship!
“My cruiser is locked away and isn’t available for cheap thrills, Elien! I’m sure you have your own vessel locked away in the senatorial docks!”
“Yes! Yes! You know me too well! Only, it’s too long of a story to get into! I need to leave the city immediately and your vessel is on the short list to get me there!” Elien waved his hand through the air dismissively. “I can acquisition it without your permission, as you well know. However, I’d rather you just fly me out to Obsidian Creeks!”
“Obsidian Creeks! Don’t be absurd!” Tobin howled as Elien turned and exited the office, evidently bored with the conversation. Tobin followed after him.
“Now, see here! I just told you I’m too busy for this! You can’t have it!”
“Then fly the damn thing yourself! One way or another, I’m going to be onboard! Are you coming along or do you wish to put on a pithy show for your lackadaisical excuse for dockhands!?”
Tobin growled as the robed man marched past several office personnel and across the bay towards Tobin’s private port. He hurried after his brother cursing him under every breath.
“I can take you to Obsidian Creeks in half an hour!”
“We don’t have half an hour! Get your ass in gear!”
“Why do you always make these demands during our peak season!?”
“When are you ever not in peak season, Tobin!?”
Tobin granted him access to his cruiser and they were halfway to Obsidian Creeks when an alarm on his control console signaled. He stared at it in shocked amazement and slowed the vessel down to turn it towards Aquila Mons. There, high in the atmosphere and from orbit, dreadnought fire was pouring onto the city.
“What the hell!?”
Elien wandered up from where he was lounging in a side room. “What are you going on about? Ah. So, that’s how they’re doing it.”
Tobin stared at him, his mouth agape. “You knew about this!?”
“Don’t be absurd! I knew nothing! I just suspected! Now get us to Obsidian Creeks! I need to get to Earth. And given what we’re seeing, it looks like you’d best come with me!”
Anger flashed across Tobin’s face. “You miserable son of a bitch! You were going to just leave me there! Would you even have missed me if I were killed in that devastation!?”
“A preposterous conjecture, Tobin. I knew you wouldn’t stay behind and let me steal your ship.”
Tobin looked back at the city, a tear stinging his eye. “Me and Stelio were talking about getting back together… he, he’s still in there, Elien!”
Elien scoffed. “That tart you keep shacking up with? Good riddance! He was bad for you anyway! Turn this ship around and get us going! We’ll take a passenger liner to Earth.”
Elien went back to his room and Tobin stared in horror, his heart dropping. Perhaps he was going to Earth, after all. But he knew something even deeper in his heart: I hate you, Elien. I’ve always hated you and will always hate you. You’re a callous bastard, and all my hate I give unto you…
Tobin guided the cruiser back around, wishing he’d sprung for a model that could break into orbit. He would’ve loved an opportunity to push Elien out of an airlock.
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WAR OF THE WORLDS
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PRESIDENT ELDRIDGE LEE sat alone in his office staring out the window overlooking the central pavilions of Philadelphia. He was in the governmental high rise on the seventy-second floor and from this vantage could see to the sea. Its cresting waves were far away, but the foam crashing into the shoreline was still vividly visible. It’d been some time since he’d last been to his beach home and was thinking he could really use a vacation after all the machinations he’d set into motion had come falling down like a house of cards. It hadn’t been just a failure, it’d been a spectacular failure.
The fleets were supposed to have arrived just as Berricks had levelled Aquila Mons and destroyed the Hinon production facilities. Instead, at least according to initial reports (including one rather scatterbrained assessment delivered by two lost gentlemen by the names of Biggs and Wedge) the Invicta had been destroyed. By the Defense Force, possibly. But he was hearing it had been an inside job that had forced the dreadnought to drop its shields and to shut its weapons systems offline. He didn’t like it. Other agents were in play he hadn’t anticipated. Especially not from the Council. Those rubes were simply unaware and unconcerned about any sort of dominance. Good for him, but all-of-a-sudden a hindrance in the grander scheme of things. Providing, of course, they were the ones who’d ordered the secret disabling of the Invicta.
One of theirs, perhaps. Perhaps someone else. A disruption, nothing else. Eldridge took a sip of his tea and then placed the ceramic mug back on the end table beside his chair. He uncrossed his legs and stood up to walk to the window, clasping his hands behind his back. He wasn’t wearing his black duster at the moment, only a black silk shirt and dark blue dress pants. His brown pate freshly shaven despite the dire news. He was refreshed and felt good, all things considered. The war had been renewed, but his fleets awaited his orders. He’d decided to have them hold position until further notice. Perhaps it’ll rattle them some. Make the Council and its Supreme Chancellor nervous. Make a mistake, somehow. It was a chest game, he knew. One that would require a patient, decisive hand. He would need to appoint a new fleet commander to the Eighth. That was in time, though. For now, he could afford to wait a little. The damage had been done and it was time to let them play diplomat a while longer. Then, when all the pieces were in play, he’d strike at their heart finally taking Hinon back into the Union.
No, it wasn’t a problem at all. It’d only been a few days since they’d lost the Invicta (he hated losing a dreadnought. They were too expensive and long in the production cycle. The one nearing completion in orbit had taken nearly five years to finish. They just didn’t have that kind of time at their disposal just yet). Word had come that an envoy was on its way to Earth. Suing for peace, he was sure. Well, he’d let them have their time in the sun. It was all part of the plan. And maybe, if he was lucky, he’d also discover who his secret saboteurs were.
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POLK & LYNCH: GUNSLINGERS
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AMELIA AND CURT pushed aside fallen detritus. They’d spent the last four days trying to dig their way out from under their apartment. They’d gotten lucky. When the bombardments had begun, they’d sought refuge in the subterranean shelters. One of dozens Curt was aware of. This one had been stocked with food, water, and some pressurized atmosuits in mint condition. Strangely, they’d been the only ones to arrive in that particular shelter and he wondered not for the first time why exactly that was.
Curt grunted as he pushed aside a heavy firocrete barrier that might have once been a wall. It tipped over to its other side with a resounding thud that they both could feel in their bones.
Finally! He looked to the skies seeing the deep rich blackness of space and the stars. There were no lights in Aquila Mons anymore. The city was a wasteland of debris and shattered buildings. More than one time they both thought they’d be crushed to death by the building coming down on top of them. It was scary, he had to admit. The rumbling tremors and the dust out beyond the viewport of their shelter, the raining debris that sounded like it had kept falling for ages. And all the while they held each other in their pressurized suits, praying to the gods that they’d live to see another day. It’d been pitch black save for the lanterns on their suits. And that first day had been spent in a constant storm of fear as they worked to pry the door to the shelter loose. It hadn’t wanted to budge, but after a night of working it over using the welding tools in a box within the shelter, they’d managed to escape into the gloom of thousands of tons of building materials.
“Feels like we were down there for years…” Amelia said pulling him out of his daze.
They worked their way up on top of the debris staring down at a ground that was more fallen building than the old walkways. “Yeah, I’m not going to lie, I thought we were going to die down there.”
They looked to one another, the only two people in a city that hosted millions. He tried not to think about it too much.
“I’m hungry.”
“Go easy on your rations. I don’t know how much further we have to go to find any help.”
Amelia looked around the virtual hellscape, the starlight casting an ominous glow all across the debris. “I know… gods, Curt. Are they all dead? Did mom and dad…?”
“I…” Curt paused. All he’d been thinking about for days was getting out from under all the titanium, firocrete, rebar, and other materials for which he had little knowledge. Only that it was in the way. Mom… dad… did they get back alright? Did they try to find us? “We can’t think about that right now. We have to get to some other town. Find… some means of getting out of here. See if we can contact anyone around.”
“What are we going to do?” She looked to him in an exhausted, fearful way. He wasn’t sure.
He walked down the sloping mound of detritus and started across the way towards where he assumed an exit to the city was located. Somewhere along the edge of the ancient volcano he was certain. “I don’t know, Ami.” He looked across the way from the collapsed high rise and saw the old weapons depot scattered to all directions. She followed him down and across towards that old building.
Amelia watched him kick at some of the debris and found a collection of weapons scattered all across the ground. He picked up a gun, looked to her. “We do what mom and dad taught us to do. We survive. This isn’t the first Wastelands we’ve found ourselves in, now is it?”
She shook her head. “No. I guess not.”
“Then, take your pick. We’ll scavenge for supplies. Look for a holoterminal. Hope that it works well enough to get a signal out.”
“I guess… there’s nothing else we can do.”
He shook his head. “Not for now. But just like I knew we were getting out from under that building, I know we’re going to find some help.”
“Okay. Then, I guess we should get moving.” She reached into the chaos of the scattered weapons and picked out a gun and a blade. Then started sifting through for ammunition. After they were both content with their takings, they started out across the destruction.
#
FINALE: IT RUNS IN THE FAMILY
#
LILYBELL FIRED ANOTHER shot at a series of bottles sitting on a practice range. It was little more than a fence, really. Set up out behind the barn her mother had once owned (bless her soul), and far away from any major town or village.
Her mother rarely came out to the ranch when alive, preferring to spend her time in the surrounding towns looking for any surviving family members. The promise of security once arriving on the Martian surface had been quickly vaporized, Lilybell recalled. None of her mother’s family were apparently still living. Even Uncle Terry had vanished without a trace, no one having a clue as to where he’d gone.
It was because of her uncle, that they’d wound up in Rented City. He’d once owned a coffin shop in town, though he wasn’t the undertaker. But, one day (so the tavernkeep said) he up and disappeared. Flustered, her mother looked for an inn to stay the night. She’d been wearing her frilly, satin blue dress that day and that dress was what had taken hold of the attention of some outlaws. Who brazenly attacked her and dragged her down an alleyway. Lilybell had managed to escape to find help. No one was willing to intervene, however.
After having their way, they murdered her. Leaving Lilybell to be taken in by the local preacher. She grew accustomed to the way things worked in Rented City. Thugs, outlaws, mercenaries, thieves, and assassins all had a strange liking for the town. Probably because of how remote it was from any other major hub in the Wastelands. Whatever the reason, she’d kept as low a profile as possible ever since. Even managed to acquire her mother’s dress to wash it clean of blood stains and other… bodily fluids the outlaws were so kind as to leave behind.
Lilybell lowered her arm, the pistol gripped tightly in her right hand. Why, mom? Why did you drag us all the way out here? What did grandfather do to you that made you so afraid? Her chest throbbed a few beats as she refused to cry. Why did you leave me alone here? With these lowlifes and miscreants?
Several times over the last five years since then she’d tried to find the barn. And every time she was forced to return to Rented City because, as the sheriff once told her, ‘The wildlands are no place fer a little lady on her own.’ And so, she minded herself, hiding away when the outlaws came, keeping close company with young women she was growing to despise. Because ‘it’s just a woman’s job to mind the home and feed the menfolk. Keep ‘em happy, and you’ll be happy too!’ She allowed a scowl to fall across her face and fixed her gaze on three bottles. She whipped her arm forward and fired three shots. All three bottles exploded into a myriad of shards and beat the ground with little dust plops. She allowed her arm to settle back by her hip, pushing back the flowing white redingote she wore. Its flared bottom flopped back in a half-bell shape, enhancing her curves. The gold trimming, with its random designs, reflected sunlight outward giving her a subtle glow. She reached up to the frilly brimmed tea-hat on her head and tugged it down a smidgeon against the bright glare. She let out a shuddering sigh. Those whores. Those wretches. Those sanctimonious tarts. Well, I’m old enough now. And there isn’t a man in the world who will hold this hand. Not so long as I draw breath.
She dropped her left hand and eyed another four bottles. She whipped her gun arm again and fired four rounds. Three of the bottles popped in sparkling displays of reds and greens. The fourth stood there, taunting her.
“Ah, fiddlesticks and pissweed!”
Lilybell opened up the cartridge chamber and saw only a few bullets left. She reached into the gun-belt around her waist and reloaded the empty rounds. Then flipped the chamber back into place and ran her hand across it, causing it to spin in a satisfying whirl. The weapon in her hand was one of a pair of Parabellum Classics, which were small semi-automatic pistols that some jokingly referred to as, ‘Needlers’. Mostly because the bullets were small, but ‘needled’ through a person’s guts in a matter of days rather than hours. A slow death. The least any of these rampaging outlaws deserved. Which was why she spent every day practicing with them to perfection. She missed fewer and fewer shots anymore. Had it not been for that day months earlier, when the Woman-In-Red came to town dispensing Justice (with a capital ‘J’), she might never have made the decisions she’d made since.
How symbolic that day had been for her. She’d worn her mother’s old dress, for nostalgia, or fanciness, or as a sheer dare to the outlaws she’d grown tired of and just wanted to quit life over, she couldn’t say with any certainty. But that dress, it stood for the past. And the Woman-In-Red, the Chuhukon gunslinger liberating a small town from tyranny, represented a future she only dreamed of holding. And if she could do it…
Why shouldn’t I be able to?
So, she packed up her belongings (what little there were), and ignored the preacher’s protests as she went out to catch a coach to the next town over. A town a little larger and maybe a little safer. Macer Dug. Not the ruthless dirt-hole that Rented City was, but not exactly Aquila Mons either. Still, it was through some of her mother’s old belongings and happenstance that it was there she discovered where her mother’s ranch was located. And took off for it the very next day.
She spent a few days acclimating to her new fortune. A bank in the nearest town had been keeping track of her mother’s finances and the interest had accrued. Finding a cart-driver to take her back and forth from the ranch posed no problem. And inside the ranch-house, she discovered the Needlers packed away in pristine condition up in the attic. Beside the trunk they’d been in, set a pair of black, knee high riding boots. It all had fallen together without her even trying. And she knew the Gods were smiling on her.
Destiny was speaking. She was going to be a gunslinger.
It hadn’t taken long to gather up what she needed. A new redingote special ordered, tucked tight at the waist. The tea-hat with four Marsolite sticks in the band that were actually throwing darts (she’d gotten really good at tossing them with accuracy!). Thick white pantaloons and a frilly dress shirt to complete the look. Sure, there wasn’t much by way of armored protection, however, she figured if she became the quickest, most accurate sharpshooter around, that would never be an issue.
Lilybell holstered her pistol and walked over to the fence to set up another six bottles. Then came back to her firing position and drew her Needler once more.
Mom, I swear it on my life, I’m going to bring real justice to these undeserving wastrels. And then, maybe one day, you’ll let me know why we left Earth to come here. She fought a frown trying to form. Maybe.
She took aim with the little Needler and fired off three shots. Each bottle popped as a zing rang out through the air with each shot. Tiny little giggles burst forth from her as she fired, and she bounced up and down on her toes in excitement with her success.
Soon, I’ll be just as good as Ms. Aidele herself! She smiled brightly and happened to look up. Streaking across the sky was a line of light disappearing into the dark of space. It had a purplish tint to it and was gone almost as soon as she’d spotted it. Huhn. Not often you see meteors streaking away from the planet… She turned back to the bottles and aimed again when a voice broke her concentration.
“Ms. Lilybell Terrance? I am responding to the call that was rung in the canyon of Haelf. I’m impressed. Few are those who discover the means to summon one of our kind.”
Lilybell turned to see a strange looking being. He was a machine, of course. Just as she knew he would be. One of the automaton race, the Rossumi, who rebelled against Earth centuries ago. His face was hard and metallic, though it sported the face of a human with wide, onyx eyes. And made of what looked like the sinewy tissue beneath one’s skin pulled over each cheek and across the brows. It was made of some odd, glistening polymer like material. His mouth was made of the same substance, allowing his lips (if one were to call them that) to twist and turn in a grotesque facsimile of human expression. The tone of his flesh was a deep bronze that could have been natural, she supposed, but felt unreal as she stared at him. Upon his head was a wide-brimmed hat. And hanging off his shoulders, a duster common in the Wastelands (dark blue and finely maintained).
The whole look to her was unsettling. Like a toaster, that deigned itself to be a cat. This thought caused her to smile.
“Precept Toren, yes? That’s who the message said would contact me.” She asked and he nodded with barely a hint of emotion. “Please, do me the favor of addressing me by my family name. I’m done hiding. I loved my dear mother more than anything. But… She’s gone now. And her mistakes will not be my own. I’m taking back what’s rightfully mine. I am Lilybell Helena Berricks. Born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia. It is such a pleasure to finally meet one of the Rossumi!” She offered him a little curtsy and he frowned with a cock of his head.
Then offered up a bastardization of a smile. “Very well, Ms. Berricks. I assume you understand what you have initiated here? Do you wish to proceed? Or would you reconsider this particular venture? You are very young, after all.”
Her smile broadened and she gave a slight little dance of excitement, “My youth is irrelevant. I’m ready to take the rite. I’m ready to be a Red Star! I searched high and low, researched hundreds of texts. My hero’s mum used to be one, you know. And I know I’ll be just as competent!”
Precept Toren gave a quizzical look, his eyes glowing green under the void of black. “To accept the rite of passage is a difficult step, Ms. Berricks. It isn’t a step one takes lightly or with any flagrant disregard. It requires only the most… determined soul. Justice is not something to be looked at as a game, but a true rite of passage. To bring order to chaos where only chaos reigns.”
She giggled, “Oh, I know! I’ve been on the receiving end all too often, you know. But, this last half year, I’ve been training. And preparing myself. I’m ready! Ready to bring Justice to the Sol system! My grandfather always used to tell me when I was a child, before my mother ran away and changed our name, he’d say, ‘True strength comes from a Just hand’. And I know, know that my hand is Just and capable!”
Precept Toren nodded briefly, the servo motors in his oddly segmented neck whirred like they didn’t agree with her assessment, but would humor her nonetheless. “Very well. The journey will be long and harsh. You will have to discover my abode in the Fields of Ramus. If you come to find me there, I will train you in the ways of the Red Star. But I warn you, death is imminent in those fields, and few are those who become Red Stars. Your commitment to true Justice must be absolute.”
She beamed at him, “I’ll be there! And I’ll show you how true Justice runs in my family!”
“Then, on the morrow, you will head southward and exit the Wastelands Domain. There is one locking hub there. Pass the test proffered, and you will be permitted to leave. But, only on foot. The Fields of Ramus are stricken by gravimagnetic phenomenon not suitable for any technology beyond the Rossumi. You will have to walk. So, come prepared for a great many months’ journey. There will be no sources of food or companionable peoples to take you in. Out there is desolation. The worst that Hinon has to offer. It will be just you, your atmosuit, and whatever you bring along.” He tugged on his duster. “I ask again, are you certain this is the course you wish to travel?”
Lilybell giggled, “Nothing in the world can stop me!”
“Then, Godsspeed to you, Ms. Berricks. When, and if, you reach the monument to Justice, the statue of Caramus, beyond the worst of the Fields of Ramus, bend your knee, and follow its directives. Another Rossumi will provide you further instructions. If you succeed with his requests, you will find me waiting.”
He bowed and twirled around. His coat flew through the air as if he were some sort of comic book hero walking off into the sunset. His feet crunched along stone and grit as he marched away.
Lilybell watched him for a long moment, his gait was so mechanical, so… sturdy. To best the Rossumi and become a Red Star was the most challenging task in the solar system. But she knew she was up to that challenge. And accepted it gladly. When he disappeared from view, around the edge of the ranch and towards whatever destination he had in mind, she twisted back to the bottles, cocked her weapon, aimed, and sighed deeply. The smile on her face a chasm to her soul.
They will all know my name. Even Aidele Wilson herself will recognize my commitment to true Justice. She exhaled slowly and settled into a gunslinger’s stance. She brushed back her redingote and measured her intent.
“Bend the knee…” she said to herself, eyeing another bottle.
Her mouth turned down into one of intense focus. Her brows knitted together. Her smile disappeared. A raw look crossed her face.
And she pulled the trigger.
#
THE END
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Thank you all for reading Red Star Sheriff and I hope you really enjoyed it! Yes, it was a spaghetti western, and yes it was both cliche’ and over the top. However, I had fun writing the story and think that, myself, it works well as a work of fiction in the vein of Edgar Rice Burroughs. Entertain first, and let the thoughts come later!
I’ll see you next week for more Story Time With Tim! Read to you all again later!
~Timothy S Purvis
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Amazon Kindle Author’s Page–> Timothy S Purvis
Smashwords Author’s Page–> Timothy S Purvis
Red Star Sheriff On Amazon Kindle–> Red Star Sheriff Volume One Kindle
Red Star Sheriff On Amazon Paperback–> Red Star Sheriff Volume One Paperback
Red Star Sheriff On Smashwords–> Red Star Sheriff Volume One Smashwords
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SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION STARTS!
I would appreciate if you have Kindle or even if you want some paperback goodies if you’d head on over to my page and maybe show me some love there. I mean, if you’ve been reading a while and see something you like, wouldn’t you like to have it in your personal library? I have some cool short stories available for cheap. Also Tales From A Strange Mind that collects my short stories (there’s also a Kindle edition but, for some reason, Amazon wouldn’t let me link them together) , Tales From A Strange Mind II which collects my old novellas, Red Star Sheriff (Which also has a Kindle edition but Amazon, am I right?) my first novel ever released, though, yes, it does have some grammatical errors and drags on for way too long, sigh. But I still love it and I will be writing a follow up sometime within the next few years. I have a collection of my poems called MisAligned: The Heart Waxes Poetic which collects my old poems but not some of my newer ones included those flash fictions! I’ll probably do that in the future as well. And if you love the perfectly inane, why not check out my Star Cloud scripts presented in book form? Star Cloud The Original Scripts. Another one where Amazon was being difficult with me in connecting the Kindle and PB versions. Still, the paperback they let me sale for cheap and it’s well worth a look if I say so myself. Or, if you don’t want to click on individual links (all of which will take you to my author’s page anyway), just click on my author’s page directly by tapping my name: Timothy S Purvis See for yourself what all I’ve published since I began this venture in 2016.
I mean, if you like my work, of course. No pressure. Just trying to find my way in this world without working menial tasks and suffering physical and mental issues as a result. If only I could merely stay home and write. That would be my most epic fantasy brought to life. Well, if you don’t want to do that, you could also donate to my cause down below after all is said and done. It would help. You know, if you liked what you saw and all. Up to you. I don’t have a lot of reviews on my materials because of low sales. I mean, very, very low sales. In the single digits. Right now, I have to rely on Pubby for reviews and those people only read your synopsis and recap it for a five star review. I want honest opinions. Not mean ones, but honest. So, if you ever find yourself buying some of my work, I’d certainly appreciate some feedback. Again, up to you.
Also, I’m selling my work for cheap over at Smashwords.com! Check out that page here: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/TSPurvis
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iCentrist 