Tracy found the passenger bullet train station easy enough. But the next bullet train wouldn't arrive for hours. Tracy clenched his fists and swaggered away. Every second was precious to Tracy's mission. No time to waste.

A pang of guilt gnawed at Tracy's heart. His phony swagger and cocky grin were an act. Exuding confidence in a weary place like Mars was a must. These people were all survivors, but some were bloodthirsty. Predators. Ready to pounce on any sign of weakness. Truth was, he felt like a two-hundred-year-old battered bucket of a spaceship after the crash. It wasn't like Tracy lacked confidence though. Years on the force taught him plenty of life lessons, gave him plenty experience. A little extra bravado would not hurt in this place. Too much though and he'd tempt someone to knock him off of his high horse.

Speaking of horses, he might as well find a speeder. The trains were limited to the tracks running between the settlements. But Roy was free to roam anywhere. There was a chance Roy the fugitive might have plunked down right here in Tharsis, but odds weren't good. The image of Tracy's crashed lander flashed in his head. The wreckage was devastating. He still did not understand how he made it out in one piece.

He inhaled and sighed.

Local settlers ambled up and down the dirt street.

Everywhere he looked, revolving coilguns peaked out of holsters. Guns were originally illegal on the new world. What did you need violent weapons for in the wake of a new society being built from scratch? The original colonizers had utopian dreams, fanciful wishes. How naive. That didn't last long. The price of peace and semblance of civility had a funny way of costing blood.

Always had. Always would.

No one gave Tracy a second glance. Nothing for him to do but delve into Tharsis and replace his lost supplies. He passed a general store, and a brothel. Women called to him, women worse for the wear. Well, not all of them. A few were downright gorgeous. They beckoned in boisterous tones promising pleasures aplenty. They didn't hold a candle to his Hina. And had they, well Tracy would've kept on walking anyways. So he tipped his hat and did.

Soon he came to a fenced off cement lot that stretched across a wide bit of land. Speeders of all sizes hovered in place. Single riders, double riders, even hovering stagecoach styles. Most were open hatch, or had clear bulb hatches. There was even a tactical style brick red speeder. The hover bike models caught his attention. A salesman all skin-and-bones approached Tracy with open arms and a hungry grin. "Welcome friend." He extended a lean hand. "Call me Slim."

"Sure thing, Slim."

"Obliged. What can I do you fer, mister?"

"Need a single rider speeder, hover bike style, but with room in the back for... luggage."

The man put finger to chin as if in thought. "We'll have something to suit your needs. Thisaway."

Slim ushered Tracy further into the lot. Tracy couldn't tell if his hair was slick with sweat or grease. The abundance of cologne made Tracy cough.

"Feast your eyes on this bad boy."

Slim showed him a muscle bike speeder, complete with massive exhaust pipes and almost out of reach chopper handlebars. Any part that wasn't chrome was jet black, except for the flame decals enveloping the sides.

Tracy's lip tugged at the side of his cheek while squinting in open skepticism.

"I can see this one's too loud. Maybe something more sophisticated."

He displayed a sleek charcoal hover cycle. While the lines were sexy, the cycle wasn't large enough to hold a man of Tracy's stature, let alone another body draped over the back.

"Anything else? Used maybe?"

"Only if yer willing to come back later."

"Naw. Need it today."

"You're a straight shooter. A man valuing function over form."

He showed Tracy a standard cycle. It was back to basics. A cycle that hovered.

"Note the padded banana seat stretches so far back, you could practically lie down on it."

She was nothing like his speeder back home, but what choice did he have? "She'll do."

"Alrighty. That's what I like to hear. I'll get the pad so we can tap out the paperwork."

Slim produced a touchpad. "Fill out this information here."

Tracy finished the formalities.

"Alright. How will you be paying today? In full, or down payment?"

Tracy reluctantly projected his account from his smartarm to pay the man. The amount they allotted him seemed large before leaving Earth. But they didn't factor his speeder going up in flames. This purchase would whittle the account down considerably.

Slim glared at the account banking name. "Terran bank?"

Tracy squinted.

Slim's lips tightened. It was the first time his teeth disappeared. "I'm sorry. This vehicle is not for sale."

"Don't you want the creds?"

"They're tainted."

Tracy hated to pull the same stunt twice, but he leaned in and flashed his metal star anyways.

Slim snickered. "That supposed to mean something, mister?"

"Means I'm on official business. Now, I can show you the badge again. Or I'll have to show you two revolving pieces of metal currently residing in my holsters. Despite all of the dust, you keep a clean establishment, Slim. I'd hate to make a mess all over your floor."

Slim gritted his teeth. "I seem to remember we have a selection that suits your kind. Follow me."

Without waiting, Slim spun on his heels forcing Tracy to jog to match his lanky strides.

He knew exactly which one Slim had in mind before the salesman even said anything.

"You can't get me to sit on that thing. I'm a grown man."

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"This is all I can offer, given the circumstances."

Tracy's chest heaved. That pang inside reared its head again. He did not want to rob Slim, but he had a job to do. Lives were at stake. Time was of the essence. He took in the metal steed in all its equine glory. It was a Ford Mustang. Literally.

"I'm not riding a robot horse."

"The older models were gimmicky. But don't mistake it. This is a KEC model."

Tracy offered him a blank stare.

"The Kinetic Energy Converter. The horse generates energy with each gallop, stored for when you need to go real fast. When you do, you push this button—" Slim pushed it. With a mechanical whoosh, the steed's legs tucked in on themselves. The neck tilted forward and handlebars popped out, transforming the metal stallion into a hover cycle.

"You get a few hundred kilometers at full speed. Then he converts back into a mustang. You never need fuel unless it's an emergency."

"Why's it need exhaust pipes?"

"It's Ford. They put big pipes on everything. Makes this stallion really roar too."

"Where do I put the quarter in?"

Slim ignored his sarcasm. "The earlier models used horse behavior simulation, but this current operating system has the mind of an actual horse uploaded digitally. And if I may boldly point out, this steed comes with a built-in interface. Plug your prosthetic straight in and sync up, given that it's a smartarm you're sporting. It's the best of both worlds."

Tracy flexed his alloyed arm out of habit. It was a smartarm indeed. So that was something. "Sold. What's the damage?"

Slim relayed the price.

Tracy guffawed. "That's more than the other speeder. Can't afford it."

"The price is the price."

"You're impeding the Law."

Slim shrugged.

Tracy spat, rose up to his full height, strode towards the man, eyeing him hard.

A good salesman, Slim didn't so much as gulp.

There was no way around it. If there was one thing he had to have it was transportation.

"Fine. I'll take it."

***

A small bell rang as Tracy entered the armory.

Tracy managed a free meal. He'd gotten a speeder, sort of. Shortly thereafter he'd been able to gather a bed roll, a small tent, and some supplies too. It stung his pride.

If he could get his fingers on the scoundrels that shot him down, he'd wring their necks with his bare hands, badge or not. Wouldn't even be in this predicament if not for them. They'd blasted him out of the atmosphere and left him for dead. Only the footprints in sand revealed they'd even been there. By the time he awoke from the crash, he couldn't even see what they stole from the ship. The fire reduced it to slag. A physical picture of his wife on the dash went up in those flames. Call him old school, but that photo meant more than anything else in the ship. Not much to do now though, but press on.

Now he was fixing to get the final piece of the equation before setting after Roy. His revolving coilguns were great. Reliable. But they were designed for close confrontations. As a hunter he needed a range option too.

Guns of all shapes and sizes lay beneath a glass counter.

"Howdy."

"Got any lever action repeating railguns?"

The armory man's mustache drooped. "No. Got pump action."

Tracy grunted.

"If your heart's set on lever action, I do have carbines instead." He pulled three different models out and placed them on the counter.

The lawman tested the weight of each, the balance, the sights, trigger pull, and of course the lever action itself. Winchester never let him down before, so he settled on the Model X4 lever action carbine.

Thankfully the steed speeder came equipped with a rifle compartment, among other things, so Tracy didn't need a gun scabbard. He just needed ammo, and a bullet belt.

"These reliable bullets?"

The armorer pointed up. "Manufactured by Lunar Armaments."

"The moon base? They ship it all the way out here?"

"No. While they operate on the Terran moon, they also operate on the Rubrun moons too. Lots of resources on Phobos and Deimos."

Tracy waved. "Good. Let's get several more boxes."

After getting the right buscadero draped over his torso, Tracy proceeded to load the .30-30 and .357 electromagnetic ammunition into the belt.

"How would you like to pay?"

Tracy grinned. "Funny you should ask."

The man's face looked chiseled from stone.

Tracy was about to perform mental gymnastics, navigating around the fact that his creds were from the Terran government, but he didn't have time.

The door bell rang as two armed men stepped inside.

"Tracy Irving? We'd like to talk."

Tracy turned slowly, holding the carbine across his rib cage. He eyed the men. "Sure boys. Give me a moment and I'll see you outside."

"We need to speak now."

Tracy held up a finger and turned his back on them, then proceeded to load the carbine. "Sorry about that. How much is this going to cost?"

After an awkward pause the men went back outside.

When the man found out he was paying with Terran creds, he overcharged Tracy, but not as much as Slim had.

He didn't argue the price. Not much choice. With less than three weeks to capture Roy, he had little time to fool around.

And that was assuming he made it out the armory in one piece.

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