Olan Thorensen [Thorensen - A Tangled Road to Justice

I never imagined becoming a hired gun, secret agent, or whatever else youd call what we do, but life has ways of surprising you. Nor did I have more than a vague notion about gunslingers, rustlers, or why high noon was a landmark time of day. That was before I worked with Edgar Millen, the perplexing and complicated man who led me to this moment.

Whatever happened next, I wouldnt be able to say my time on Astrild hadnt been interesting, although interesting could be highly overrated.

One of the few not- too -terrified citizens of Justice had run to the caf, warning us that trouble was coming. Fifteen minutes later, we had just dug into breakfast when a comm message to Millen alerted us that the previous warning had been well behind the times. Men with evil intent were waiting at Wakefields Solar Cycle Rental and Repair shop . By then, Id managed to wolf down three-quarters of my omelet. What passed for indigenous eggs on the planet Astrild were chewy when cooked but with a taste surprisingly similar to those from chickens.

At least we got most of the way through eating, I said.

Obliging of them, I guess, answered Millen, though I wish theyd waited till we finished.

I laid my fork down. I dont suppose theres any reason to delay.

None that I see.

Wed come prepared. The Dynaplex bodysuit wasnt the most protective equipment known, but it had one big advantage: it could be worn under clothing and not be obvious. Id have preferred combat armornot that we had any. However, even if wed had it, the men gunning for us might have had second thoughts, which we didnt want. This needed to happen, and best if we got it done while having as many advantages as possible. The downside was wed have bruises. The kinetic energy of projectiles would spread over a wide area when they hit the suit. Of course, our heads remained unprotected, but anyone not knowing we wore the suits would aim for the body as the biggest target. Not accounted for were shooters who couldnt aim straight or didnt follow our logic.

You cant have everything.

We hadnt taken off our pistols to eat. We rose and picked up our shotguns and assault rifles leaning against the wall behind our table. Before exiting the caf, we automatically checked the loads and action on all the weapons. We had extra magazines, but we figured most encounters would be over within seconds.

Outside, Gliese 777-A was well above the eastern horizon, and the yellow suns light cast hues so closely matching Earths, I sometimes forgot where I was. This suns companion, a red dwarf, was visible at night only as a faint smudge if you knew where to look, or so Id read.

We stood for a moment in front of the caf. The street was empty, except for a mangy dog scurrying out of the way. Millen once told me humans had mongrel dogs wherever they colonized.

Word had spread, and only a few furtive faces peeked out behind slits in curtains and blinds. We walked down the settlements shabby, dusty main street to where twelve men waited to kill us. Others had the same intent, but we needed to deal with one group at a time. I took a moment to acknowledge how surreal it was walking to a gunfight under a sun slightly larger than Sol and seeing a shuttle contrail arching up from the Oslo spaceport 2,600 kilometers away.

I was tense but not scared. Id signed up for this, and my heightened senses were preparing for action. Fear didnt enter into the equation. At least, thats what I told myself.

We need some theme music , rose unbidden in my thoughts, further prompted by Millens words as we started walking.

Lets go see whats happening at the OK Corral.

I didnt need to ask why Millen had renamed the repair shop. Id been around Millen enough to catch the reference, and I wondered what the next anachronism would be.

He read my mind and started whistling a theme Id never heard before hed introduced me to it. I grimaced at yet one more antiquated reference, then gave in.

Okay, although we need a couple of those serapes to set off the music from that Italian guy.

Six Months Earlier

The first time I saw Edgar Millen was in a bar on Geminorum Station orbiting Thalassa, the fourth planet of the 61 Cygni-A star system. The station consisted of three wheels, each 1,000 meters in diameter, connected by dozens of thick struts and four elevator shafts between adjacent wheels. Humans had figured out how to go faster than light, but gravity still mocked us, and we constructed stations with rotation simulating gravity as depicted in movies and novels from hundreds of years ago.

Although the bar had a great view of Thalassa, the sight through the floor bothered me. Since the wheels rotation pushed objects outward, down was away from the stations hub. The bar had a ten-meter-square dance area that doubled as a window looking down at the planet. Thalassa came into view, slid across the window as the station rotated, and then disappeared, only to reappear on the next cycle.

It was disconcerting, especially since the elevator Id arrived in opened to the dance floor, making it look like I was about to fall into space. My clue that wouldnt happen? The people walking across the floor and a few couples dancing. It took me a few seconds to register what I saw, but even then I edged myself around the wall until reaching a solid floor.

Id just come out of stasis recovery status six hours earlier and needed a drink. It was both my first time off Earth and my first experience with the conditions for interstellar travel. In the hours of recovery, I went from feeling every nerve ending on fire to shivering cold and finally every part of my body aching. Theyd given me medications to help, which did, but now I felt wiped.

Once released, Id checked on two personal bags containing all my possessions: clothing, multiple copies of what family records and photos I had, and a few souvenirs. For someone who was never returning to Earth, I had selected what seemed like a pitifully few items to remind me of my life up until then.

Did I say I needed a drink?

I looked for a small, empty tablethe only one being on the edge of the floor window. I sat and waited for someone to take my order, only to feel unsettled every time I glimpsed the planet sweeping into and out of view. I tried to avoid looking directly down, but it didnt work. I felt nauseated almost immediately. Motion sickness. It was the movement on the periphery of my vision. I needed to either look directly down or away completely. I worked it out by first focusing my attention on the people. Id been exposed to different cultures on Earth, and I wondered whether I could identify if some of the patrons were from the planet below. After a few minutes, I couldnt be sure; they could just as well have been a collection of humans from different regions on Earth.

A man in a cute outfit stopped at my table. I intuited he was staffeither that or he was about to hit on me. It was the former, and I ordered a beer. He said it was local, but what that meant on a station three hundred kilometers above a planet, I didnt know. Maybe later I would switch to something stronger.

By the time I was two-thirds finished, I could examine Thalassa more closely as it passed. Lots of water, which was not surprising, given its name. During the last hour of my recovery, my brain had functioned well enough to want something to doanything to take my mind off the discomfort. The only option was to watch an endlessly recycling video extolling the station and Thalassa. I learned the name meant ocean in Greek, a Greek sea goddess, a moon of Neptune, a planet in an old science fiction novel, a chain of mountains on the planet New Mumbai, and a genus of ladybugs on Earth. Since my view of the planet was almost all ocean, I figured the name came from the first view of the initial survey ship. Only 10 percent of the surface consisted of land in a cluster of small continents, and all of it on the opposite hemisphere from what I saw.