"Roy Rothspalt."
His name was hollered, not in reverence, fear, or admiration, but in a commanding declaration. He turned his head and saw a man garbed in black from head to boot. He stood tall and cocky, at ease with his two coil revolvers. His caramel complexion betrayed his Terran citizenship. At his back he'd amassed a sizable posse of deputized local law enforcement, a wall of Order closing in.
Except they were all fellers that Roy recognized.
With the touch of a button a hologram projected to life, hovering over the lawman's borg arm. Two images cycled like a highway billboard. A younger likeness of Roy flickered in the center of a wanted poster, followed by a Federal citation.
"I have a subpoena issued by the United State Attorney General, summoning you to appear in Federal Court to testify of crimes committed against the good states of South California, West Nevada, Colorado, and my own home state of Arizona. As a fugitive of the law, I suggest you come quietly. As a representative of the United States Marshals Service, I have the authority to use any force necessary, should the need arise."
The bold voice of the lawman and his large posse caused everyday citizens of New Oklahoma to stop and stare.
The city street came to a halt. It had never been quieter than before settlers colonized it. The only thing souring the silence was the faint but haunting synth harmonica melody drifting from inside the saloon, a wailing tune from times long gone by. Vultures alighted on a nearby façade roof overhead. Their scarlet bald heads appeared as if they'd dipped their beaks into wet corpses already.
Roy shifted so his body faced the lawman. The two women doting on each of his arms shifted with him. Roy made a point to study the man with a toothy smile, as if observing an interesting animal caged in a zoo.
"Trace the Ace. As I live and breathe. They didn't tell me you had such an abysmally long prosthetic. It makes you appear lopsided. Did no one tell you, good man? I can see why they call you Traipsing Ape behind your back."
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The lawman did not skip a beat, but responded by swiping the holodocs away and cocking the hammers of his oversized gauss revolvers. "Remove any weapons you have and step towards me slowly with your hands up high."
"My, my. You waste no time getting down to brass tacks. But I'm afraid you are far beyond the bounds of your jurisdiction."
"Justice knows no bounds. Get to stepping, Roy. I'd hate to dishevel you in front of your lady friends."
"Yes. I would hate to be embarrassed in front of my friends too." He slipped away from the women, placed his hands on his hips with carefree ease, and moseyed over to Tracy. He stopped three paces from the lawman, squaring off with him, dragging his sunglasses down so that the spheres of his yellow eyes sat like glinting half-moons above the circle-framed spectacles.
"The problem here, Marshal? You seem to think my friends are your friends." He gazed past Tracy, yellow eyes running over the posse the man brought. "I have many friends in this town, Marshal. Too many to count."
Roy grinned and winked at Tracy. The lawman's jaw shifted, betraying the doubt rising in his gut, now seeping through his widening nostrils.
"Boys. Would you mind showing this Terran marshal our brand of Rubrun hospitality?"
The air filled with the sound of bolt handles and hammers cocking.
All gun barrels leveled at Tracy.