Outlaws Page 3

  It was long past the end of his shift, but that didn’t mean he felt comfortable being above ground. There was work to be done and few people could motivate the men as he could. He even let them make fun of his name.

  With a sigh, he faced the man on the other side of the window. “You do realize your office looks like a security booth, right? Forget I brought it up. I wouldn’t want you to come out here and get dirty.”

  The man inside sat a little straighter behind his desk. “Well, thank you, that is very reasonable.”

  “But when I tell you to send a message to the Company Man, I mean send it. We’ve been busting our humps to dig out ten times the ore extracted during the last quarter and now you’re telling me it has to sit there on the loading docks? Does the Company Man know? Is that why you won’t send my inquiry?”

  A thin, reedy voice cut into the conversation. “P.C. Dickles, leave him alone. It’s not his fault.”

  P.C. turned slowly, not because he was stiff, though he was, but because he despised dealing with Phango Kutter. No one on the planet liked the assayer. “Shouldn’t you be counting beans or something?”

  Kutter was a short, thin, weaselly man with wire-rimmed glasses that had columns of green numbers running around inside the lenses. His jumpsuit had three stripes on his sleeves because he was service-class management. “You should be more respectful. Without me, all of your hard work would be meaningless. So congratulations, by the way. I have rarely seen this much ore come out of the mine, and the quality is exceptional. The amount of A19 is both impressive and disturbing.”

  P.C. stared at him. “Thanks for the compliment. Now stay out of my business. I need to talk to the Company Man and find out why there are no trains to move this material. I don’t need your interference. Keep in mind you’re not the only assayer on the planet.”

  “Incorrect,” Kutter said.

  P.C., on the verge of turning his back to the man, froze. “What do you mean?”

  Kutter looked around, smiling theatrically and enjoying the moment. Several of the other miners coming off shift were watching now. The clerk behind the window was positively horrified. “You know I could’ve been on that last shipment. You might be nicer to me if you realized how dangerous my job really is.”

  P.C. wanted to punch the man in the face. “The transports are always sent supersonic, nearly twice supersonic. You’ll never ride a transport. The Company Man will never authorize a slow train. Slow trains get robbed. Why are you wasting my time with asinine nonsense? You want to see dangerous, come down into the mine and work for a day.”

  “Calm down, Dickles. I’m not saying your job isn’t dangerous. My cousin over in insurance thinks you inflate things quite a bit, but that’s not what we’re talking about today. The reason we have mountains of ore and other common materials filling up the warehouse and loading bays is because there are no trains to move them. Well, technically there are, but it can’t get past the destruction of the first train. There’s been an accident, and an entire shipment was lost in the middle of Transport Canyon.”

  P.C. stared at him dumbfounded. He shook off his surprise. “That’s the kind of talk that starts rumors. There hasn’t been a train derailment since…since ever.”

  Kutter nodded with exaggerated solemnity. “I know. What if I had been on that one?”

  P.C. blinked, then shook his head to clear the momentary confusion. He felt anger boiling inside of him, and almost welcomed it. With a quick step forward, he grabbed Kutter by the front of the shirt.

  “You think this is funny? We’re dying down there to get these exotics out of the ground and now you’re playing games telling me that it all ended up dumped in the canyon,” P.C. growled.

  “That’s not what I meant,” Kutter said. “I am only explaining why the other assayers are gone from Ungwilook. Or at least that is why I think they are gone. This place is too dangerous. I’ve always been more rugged than my peers.”

  P.C. let him go with a slight shove and brushed past him. He rushed across the transition area into a staging area covered with packed gravel. At first, it was only walking quickly, then jogging, then sprinting toward the plateau to the overlook.

  He stopped with his toes on a ledge that dropped thousands of meters to the valley floor. Wind pulled at his filthy jumpsuit. His sweaty hair suddenly felt like ice and a shiver went down his spine.

  There had been a few times he let himself relax and socialize with his peers. They had occasionally come here and sat with their feet dangling over the edge as they drank cheap beer.

  He knew what the canyon should look like, twisting rivers and towering mesas above a highland desert landscape. He had always marveled that it was colder down there than it seemed.

  The view of Transport Canyon was different today. A ghostly pallor hung over the area. Visibility was inconsistent at best and he knew exactly why.

  He saw fragments of the massive titanium freight cars scattered for kilometers. Some were buried in the sides of rock formations; others had plowed deep furrows in pebbled riverbeds. Many looked as though they had suffered artillery strikes. But more than anything, the sky was filled with dust.

  Something tightened in his gut. There had been a lot of A19 on those cars. The mineral was primarily used in extraterrestrial industries. It didn’t like interaction with oxygen. For humans, it was essentially harmless and useless when exposed to breathable air. For the Ungloks, it could be deadly.

  His first thought, completely random and strange, was that someone wanted to keep the Ungloks out of the canyon.

  He shook his head to clear the thought, then went back to the communication booth. “Send a new message to the Company Man. We need a security guard for the loading docks.”

  The clerk nodded. “Lot of loot piled up until we get transportation figured out. Shall I ask her if she wants the mining stopped?”

  “No. My crew needs their paychecks. We’re doing our jobs. You do yours,” P.C. added, frowning at the man.

  CHAPTER SIX: A Man and His Dog

  Thaddeus Fry, Sheriff of Darklanding, knew how to fly an airship. He had almost gone into the Air Force before choosing Ground Force. As much as he loved soaring above the surface of a planet, that wasn’t where the action was and wasn’t where he was needed. He compromised by getting cross-trained in terrestrial base vehicles. He thought he could fly a space vessel in a pinch, but would not want to take it very far.

  The shuttle he’d commandeered was small and rickety. He was pretty sure there was original paint on it, but wouldn’t bet money on his ability to identify the rogue patches of color. It felt solid and all of the system checks were on the money. The engines started with some difficulty, but they started. The biggest problem, and also its greatest strength, was the small size of the cockpit. There wasn’t much room for anyone but him. He wasn’t feeling sociable and hadn’t invited anyone to join him. He didn’t want the company or the inane questions.

  Maximus didn’t really count. He wasn’t in a chair, which was a huge safety violation. The dog-thing-pig wedged itself between his chair and the left wall. The electronics behind the panels seemed to be overheating half the time, which suited the beast just fine.

  “You’re not much of a copilot, animal,” Thad said.

  He had heard about the stunning beauty of the badlands, and been warned the beauty was deceiving. He maintained altitude for a while, looking down on the geographical dynamic between Darklanding and the mines. The only time he had made the trip had been on a direct trolley full of miners ready to earn overtime and save their friends from a collapse. Personnel were never moved through Transport Canyon. The high road trolley system was much more direct, but couldn’t move large loads.

  There been no need to take an airship any place, and they were hard to find. No one wanted to take him up for free just because he was the sheriff. In this particular case, he hadn’t really asked. Shaunte would be even angrier with him, but he didn’t care. She was wrong, and she had to k
now she was wrong. And if she didn’t know, then he wouldn’t tell her.

  Darklanding, and the spaceport it served, was on top of an enormous mesa, a perfect place to land ships and blast cargo back into space. Looking out from this point of view gave him a queasy stomach. He could imagine the entire settlement, prefabricated buildings slipping over the side and disappearing down a thousand-meter drop.

  The mag-rail arched up the side of this impressive geological formation, having ascended from a low-lying system of canyons and valleys. On the other side of Transport Canyon were mountains, dense with all manner of minerals and exotic materials. The exotics alone were worth the cost of the entire settlement, but there were other less interesting metals and minerals in abundance, too.

  From this vantage point, the canyon almost looked like a bowl. There was a high road that went from Darklanding to the mines that skirted the edge of the depressed area. Driving it was not for the faint of heart and he had been glad not to pay attention during the mad rush to assist the miners during the collapse. Descending into the valleys and coming back out would’ve played havoc on human or Unglok passengers. Unmanned transport containers, the titanium-walled boxcars that moved all the wealth of this place, had fewer limitations.

  He’d watched them dive into the canyon relying on gravity and mag-rail accelerators to reach incredible speeds before racing across the area with their fore and aft engine cars pushing and pulling madly. The scariest part of the process, in his opinion, was the final climb back up to the mines, or conversely, back up to Darklanding. The kinetic force of such a long missile could not be estimated. Or at least not by him. Maybe Ungloks with their intuitive math skills had a better handle on the potential danger the mag-rail train represented.

  At night, there were normally stars, but dust clouded the air. He looked down at Maximus. “If I wasn’t convinced before, I am now. All this junk in the air is from the train wreck.”

  Maximus snorted, almost as if he understood.

  Thaddeus soared on the thermal night winds of Ungwilook. Holding the stick with one hand, he let his other arm rest lazily on the armrest of the captain’s seat. There were three computer monitors with powerful camera views, but he preferred to stare out the pockmarked pseudo-glass of the cockpit. For a moment, he felt motionless as the airship glided above the world. He stared at the twin moons disappearing frequently behind the veil of dust and debris.

  Turning the ship into the canyon, he scanned the area with cameras, sensors, and his own eyes. What he saw looked like a battlefield, something that he’d thought he left far behind. He felt a sudden surge of adrenaline, before he forced himself to calm down.

  There were pieces of the mag-rail train stretched for several kilometers. Craters decorated the place where some of them had broken free and tumbled end over end, smashing everything in their path. The more powerful sensors of his airship picked up crates and other package containers that probably still contained the ores and other materials intended for transshipment off the planet.

  He couldn’t see with his eyes and wasn’t looking for it, but what he wanted to know was if there were casualties.

  The report sent to Shaunte indicated there weren’t. Where SagCon was concerned, he doubted such reports. They didn’t value human or Unglok life unless there was a cost/benefit analysis attached to the usefulness.

  He knew there were three towns in the area, one allegedly in use. The pictures he had seen made all three of them look like ghost towns made from materials not designed to last. Without really knowing why, he made several slow circles looking for the towns, until he found something interesting.

  Settlement SC314, known to the locals as Raven’s Haven, sat about a kilometer beyond the blast area of the wrecked train. The main street bragged nearly a dozen prefabricated buildings, more on one side than the other. What Thad found interesting were the adobe style buildings and other creatively built structures that tripled the size of the town.

  Maximus shifted under his chair several times as he circled looking for a new place to lie down.

  “Getting comfortable down there?” Thad asked.

  The dog-thing rolled its eyes and squished lower to the floor. Then it made a sound that Thad suspected was going to befoul the air of the ship’s cabin.

  Thad held his breath and made for the town below. He needed to stretch his legs anyway.

  * * *

  Dust settled after he turned off the engines. He completed his systems checks, going through the detail with military precision. The routine soothed his nerves. He wondered why he hadn’t taken a ship up before this. Maybe when he got back, he would find a ground car to requisition and tear around Darklanding to blow off steam. That would be easier than flipping tires with his still-healing left arm.

  Maximus struggled to his feet and lumbered around the small interior of the airship, grumbling and making weird shakes of his head.

  Thad looked out the cockpit window. Nothing had changed. It was still night and the air was still full of dust. The twin moons hovering above the mountain range in the distance looked like a creep-show effect. Something tumbled down the middle of the street. He almost laughed at the video-show image. There was no way it could be a tumbleweed. He looked closer and saw it was a recycling bin riddled with holes from years of abuse. He imagined it blowing back and forth across the valley since the beginning of the Darklanding settlement.

  “What do you think, Maximus? Are you ready for a walkabout?”

  Maximus lay down as though ready for sleep.

  Thad narrowed his gaze and thought about the implications of the animal’s body language. “You’re right. We should sleep. Thing is, I’m not feeling the urge. I’m going to step out. Are you coming?”

  The large pig-dog struggled to its feet and snorted in displeasure. He continued to make the sound as they opened the cargo door and walked down the ramp.

  “Are you going to complain the entire trip?” Thaddeus asked.

  Maximus didn’t answer.

  Without looking, Thaddeus checked his blaster under the knee-length fireman’s coat that he had taken to wearing since arriving on Darklanding. It fit like a good duster, something his ancestors had worn when working the range. At the same time, it was more durable. The weight of it felt reassuring. He brushed back the coat to grip the blaster, checking that his indexing was on point and he was ready to draw, then let the coat fall.

  He looked around the town and realized a wind was coming up. Between the natural dust of the area and the debris from the recent catastrophe, it was an unpleasant time to be strolling down the street. Other containers and bits of trash blew down the street like tumbleweeds of the Old Western holographic shows. Lights blinked on the top of the prefabricated buildings and one radio tower at the edge of town.

  Maximus lumbered down the ramp and sniffed the air.

  Thad went to the security panel beside the ramp and punched in a code. He waited as the hydraulic arms raised the ramp. His tablet received a confirmation code that it was locked and secured against unauthorized access. He slipped the tablet back into the inner pocket of the coat and moved away from the ship.

  “Looks like they battened down the hatches,” Thad said.

  Maximus huffed and continued forward, unusually focused on the way ahead.

  “I’m glad to see your attitude has changed, dog,” Thad said.

  Maximus stopped and looked up at the sky as though expressing human consternation. He sighed, snorted—possibly farted—and began forward again. He swung his head left to right, then right to left, searching the area for God only knew what.

  A short time later, two figures emerged from what looked like a science building at the end of the street. They had scarfs pulled over their faces to protect them from the dust. They moved quickly.

  Thad adjusted the collar of his coat to protect his own mouth and nose. He squinted because he had not brought eye protection. Pulling his hat lower made him feel better even if it didn’t offer mu
ch protection. There was no glaring sun or precipitation. This was nighttime in the lowest canyon of Ungwilook with the debris of a train wreck still polluting the area.

  “Looks like a man and a woman,” Thad said.

  Maximus didn’t respond, and Thad wondered why he was talking to the difficult creature.

  The man moved slightly ahead of his companion and offered a handshake. “My name is Ryan G. Gulliver. You didn’t arrive at a good time, but we can offer you some shelter if you need it.”

  “Do you have a constable in this town?” Thad asked.

  Ryan Gulliver shook his head. The woman stepped farther to Thad’s left, which immediately struck him as a solid tactical move. Neither one of them looked like law enforcement or military, but there was something different about them.

  He shifted his stance so he could draw and fire on either of them with equal ease and waited for them to adjust their positions. It was a test, and an ungenerous test at that. Neither of them moved, but they glanced at each other before speaking.

  “My name is Amanda Preston,” she said. “I’m the science officer here. Ryan is my surveyor. Raven’s Haven is not operating at full staffing levels.”

  “SagCon?”

  Amanda looked at Ryan, then faced Thad and shook her head. “SagCon shut us down two years ago.”

  “Then what are you doing out here? This isn’t exactly a safe zone,” Thad said.

  Ryan stiffened. He moved forward slightly, protective in a way that Amanda didn’t seem to appreciate. “We like the work. None of us are slaves to SagCon. And we can take care of ourselves.”

  Thad let the conversation drop. Technically, all of Ungwilook was SagCon property. He could demand their subcontracting paperwork but decided not to. Maybe there would be time for that later, and maybe he would even care.

  His train wreck investigation was an anomaly, and he did not expect to be out here much. Most of his work would be in Darklanding itself or the mines.