Typewriters clacked away as bells rang in the distance. I front of me sat a man; his face planted directly onto his desk. A small plaque read ‘William Knight’ next to him. I cleared my throat and leaned against the counter. “Bill? You there?” To which the only reply I received was a snore. I looked to my left, then to my right. The office of bounty delegations was quiet that day. The only soul in that room aside from me was the sleeping reimbursement clerk. I took one final glance at the door behind me before I peered back to my dear friend and shouted “BILL!”.
The limp body sprawled across the counter jerked awake in surprise as I acted casually. He mumbled as he sat up in his squeaky chair. “Hello?”
My response was immediate, and my enthusiasm unparalleled. Bill still seemed half asleep. “Oh, hey there Bill! Funny runnin’ into you here.”
The reimbursement clerk simply stared at me blankly. He may have only been in his thirties, but Bill knight had the eyes of a tired old man. He spoke, completely unamused by my playful behavior. “Did you get a bounty, or are you just here to say hi?”
I put one arm on the counter as I frowned. “I have to say, Bill, I am a might saddened by your lack of warm welcome. No ‘how are you Jesse?’ no ‘it’s been a while good pal’?”
Bill continued to stare. Something about it made me imagine he was envisioning himself somewhere else right then, and I was not so sure I was included. Nonetheless, Bill eventually reiterated himself. “Do you have a bounty to turn in?”
With a sigh, I moved on to business. “Yes. I have a bounty.” After a moment of blindly rummaging through my pocket, I found what I needed. I pulled out a rectangular steel chip and sat it on the counter. Embedded in the center of the chip and protected by glass was a sample of blood. “Hans Baumgarten. That scientist from Framheim. Three hundred credits.”
Bill took the chip and stood up. “One second.” Was all he said before he wandered into the back full of workers on typewriters and radios. One nice thing about that bounty is that it was an ex-government contract, meaning his DNA was on file. A lot more convenient than hauling a corpse back like usual.
“Take your time.” I called back, turning to look at the bounty board posted on the wall. There were few pieces of paper pinned to the board, and those that were posted consisted entirely of petty cases. Those small fries wouldn’t even buy us a week’s worth of food and fuel, let alone get us out of debt. We needed some real cash, and all that met the criteria was a single bounty pinned at the very top of the board. It was faded from being out for so long, but I could still make out the most important part. 1000-dollar bounty for one Isiah Brooke. Dead or alive.
“Alright, here it is.” Said Bill, sitting a wad of cash down and returning to his seat. “Is that all you need?”
“No, actually.” I mumbled, turning back to Bill. “Don’t suppose you have Isiah Brooke’s last known whereabouts?”
The clerk leaned back in his chair. “Well, yeah. It’s not like he’s hiding or anything.”
The dusty wanted poster ripped off the pin as I took it for myself. I returned to the counter as I folded it up and put it in my pocket. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” Bill started “He’s one of the best gunslingers in the system, not to mention the slew of lackey’s always with him. Anybody that tries to sneak up on him gets killed by one of his underlings, and anybody with enough balls to challenge him head-on ends up with a bullet in their skull.”
That was a mighty intimidating description, but a thousand dollars was a thousand dollars. “So, you know where he is?”
The tired man shook his head. “Yeah, I know where he is. One second.” Bill pulled open the cabinet next to him and rummaged through a few files, then pulled out an old yellow one. “He’s on Targus. Little mudball moon near Las Platillo. City is called Grenadine.”
I took the wad of cash on the counter and nodded Bill goodbye. “Sounds like a big fish in a small pond. I’ll be back with your man soon.”
“That’s what they all say.” Bill responded as he eased his head back on the counter.
Upon leaving the office, I was met with an office room full of people at desks with typewriters and various feds walking to and fro. Of course, the walls and floor were wood with carpets here and there. The feds could have just left it barren and metal, but it turns out people don’t like spending years of their life in suffocating chrome boxes, so a little interior design was used to keep people happy.
My exit was to the right, and I didn’t care to loiter around the frankly tiny space station. The Clementine system was a small one, and had a large lack of fed presence, which could be clearly seen in the quality of the outpost I was in. Fine by me, I thought. I liked not having the government breathing down my neck, and it made good work for us bounty hunters.
I went down a short hall and pushed down a button, which in turn slowly opened the hatch to the outpost and to the Fat Tuesday. Logan was waiting in the cargo bay as I stepped inside. “How’d it go?”
The hatch closed behind me as I held up the wad of cash. “We got our money. Unfortunately, we’re going to have to give it to Doc as soon as we see him again, but at least we get to hold it for a little while.”
Logan eyed the spot where his cruiser usually sat, now naked. “Well, I suppose it’s time we go back to Dualis and get my ship.”
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Once I reached Logan, I handed him the folded-up piece of paper from my pocket. “Not yet, dear brother. Take a gander at that.”
He read the bounty in a second, then spent a good long while simply eyeing down the portrait. “Isiah Brookes? There’s a good reason he’s been posted on the bounty board for months, Jesse. Last I heard he killed the last eighteen bounty hunters with that exact same idea.”
I waved him off. “We’re cleverer than those guys, and besides… A thousand dollars…”
Logan stared at me deep in the eyes as he thought. I could see the little devil on his shoulder whispering to him. Eventually he murmured out himself. “Well, I guess we could look into it...”
“Yes!” I celebrated as I ran for the ladder. “That’s what I like to hear!”
“He’s on the Firebrand system, which means we’ll have to take the outer system railship. Have we got time to reach it?” He said as we began to climb up the ladder.
“The railship always stops at The Coin before it takes off anyways, so it should also be somewhere in orbit.” I climbed into the main hall and went towards the flight deck. “We’ll have to book it, but we’ll get there in time..”
“Alright then. If you’re confident, I’ll be getting things ready.” Logan said as he moved off to his room.
Crawling into the pilot’s seat and strapping in, I decided to put some pedal to the metal. In the distance, there was a giant metal structure, and I’d be damned if we weren’t on it before Logan could pack up our things.
Fat Tuesday groaned as I was thrown back into my seat. In the distance, I heard something shatter and Logan went through a list of swears. There was a reason we tended to tie down everything in sight.
The outer system railship was our only ticket to the bounty, and it quickly approached. Our destination was in an entirely different solar system, but that was short work for one of the fastest ships ever made. It may have taken humanity a hundred thousand years to crawl towards the farthest reaches of space, but the railships turned that into seconds using artificial wormhole technology I didn’t even try to understand. The only dilemma was that it was very much so ‘on rails’. Specially made stations were the only way for railships to transport, meaning that going even farther into the beyond was just as slow as our conventional ships could take us. The Fat Tuesday was by no means a slow ship, being able to hop between planets whenever she pleases, but there was no way to travel all the way to Panthalassica without docking to a railship.
Passing the crest of the planet, I got sight on the long and thin ship. It had plenty of space for ships of all sorts to attach to it whenever they pleased, but even then it was mostly full. I could see a purpleish gold ignition from the back of the railship. They were warming up, but we’d still have time. Maybe even a seat with a good view if we were lucky.
Within just a few minutes, we were nearly at the railship. I felt like my eyes were pushed to the back of my skull as Fat Tuesday had started moaning and groaning in complaint of our speed. It was all worth it to get there in time.
Once we were in radio proximity of the railship, I pressed a red button embedded in the flight console. It shined red as I spoke out. “Logan and Jesse Burrows, fugitive recovery agents, looking for docking. Riverboat model shuttle.”
A voice spoke through an earful of static. “Roger that, Riverboat. Proceed to dock forty-eight and clear your shuttle within twenty minutes for takeoff.”
With that, I let go of the transmitter and cruised Fat Tuesday to our dock. A few switches were flipped, and we automatically drifted in.
Unfortunately, the technology in railships made it so the engine of harbored shuttles had to be off to travel, meaning we’d be sitting in economy instead of the comfort of our own ship. Fine by me, I liked raiding the dining car for all the sweets it had.
We began to get settled in as Logan put his hand on the back of my chair. “Everything’s packed up. You ready to go?”
The whole place jostled for a second as Fat Tuesday connected to the railship’s docking bay. “We’re all set. I’m ready to put her to bed when you are.”
Logan nodded as he turned “Let’s do it. Lights out.”
I flipped a few switches, then stood from my seat. Logan went down the ladder to the cargo bay as I kept going. Opening the farthest door at the back of the ship, I got to the engine room. Fat Tuesday’s heart spun around, just like the rutters of a riverboat. Unfortunately, that engine would have to stop spinning as I punched in a few codes and pulled a lever or two.
When you spend all your time referring to your ship as a “she”, there was a slight bit of guilt when you shut it all down. But hey, if Fat Tuesday was dead, then necromancy was as easy as the flip of a few switches.
Once that was finished, the room immediately began to feel slightly chill. After I got the engine room was all nice and locked up, I went to the ladder and met Logan in the cargo bay.
The shuttle hatch opened, and we were met with a conductor holding a long list of names. “How many are you seating?” was all he cared to say as we stepped onto the railship. It was always a bit of a shock to move from the metal interior of Fat Tuesday to the wooden paneled and red cushioned interior of the railship. Just like the outpost, the universal federation liked to keep appearances prettied up. Make their giant metal slingshots look like home.
Logan took the wallet from his back pocket and rummaged through the small amount of money inside. He pulled out two five-dollar bills. “Two adults. Logan and Jesse Burrows.”
The conductor pocketed our cash and jotted down our names. “Right this way, gentlemen.”
It was a short walk as we went from the docking car to passenger cars. We passed many rows of seats already filled before the conductor gestured to two benches divided by a table. It was near the docking car, so there was a bit of noise and foot traffic, but that’s what we got for being so late.
We sat down and the conductor let us be. Logan was the first to speak after only a few minutes. “We’re going to have to be careful with this bounty. Don’t let the money get to your head and be prepared to walk away.”
That was how it always was with Logan. Take it slow, be careful, and don’t take more risks than necessary. It seemed like he was always so serious and methodical since the war, though I didn’t blame him. I may have lost my arm back then, but I thought a lot more of him stayed behind. Those habits he gained would die hard. “Yeah. Sure. Of course.” Was all I gave back.
Logan relaxed in his seat, getting confirmation that I hadn’t concocted an idiotic and dangerous plan yet. He was a six-foot-tall man who seemed to always have prominent stubble, unlike my religiously clean-shaven face. You could see countless long nights behind his eyes, even though he just turned thirty a few months ago. He always wore minimalist clothing that never stood out, but never completely fit in on outer systems like Clementine. That particular evening, it was a black sweater with black slacks that concealed the large frame he had underneath. His hair was buzzed and black, contrasting the wavy dirty blonde hair I had. He was five years my senior, and sometimes I felt like we couldn’t be more different.
He was tall and I was… Average… On most planets… He kept quiet while I made my voice heard, and he always had more cautious plans in mind than what I would come up with.
Despite all that, though, we always had each other’s backs, and we made a damn good team.
Maybe even good enough to take on a thousand-dollar bounty… That, or it was the uranium mines until our debts were paid off.