The Outlaws of Vega

“Daddy! Daddy wake up!”

Robert Drake woke up with a start to see a pair of soft green eyes staring at him.

“Oh my Lord, we got a Beth-bug!” he picked up his daughter, “Jess? You see this here Beth-bug that crawled in bed with us?”

“Oh I see her, alright,” Jess said.

“Well whatchu think we should do with her?” He turned his head to his wife.

“Hmmm...call the exterminator?”

“What about you? You wanna be exterminated?” he asked Beth.

“No!”

“Oh, alright. But only cause you’re so cute,” he pulled Beth in and kissed her on the forehead before setting her down next to the bed, which she was only barely taller than. He sat up and Jess did the same, “How’d you sleep, honey?”

“Really good! I had a dream where I was a space pirate and had to fight a bunch of bad guys!”

“A bunch of bad guys, huh? Did you win?”

“I dunno, I woke up.”

“That’s called a cliffhanger, hon.”

“Why do they call it that?”

“I think it’s basically when a story ends without you actually knowing how it ends.”

“That’s dumb!”

“Yeah, I’d wanna know everything turns out alright too, myself.”

“What are we gonna do today?”

“Well, you’re gonna help me get the wagon loaded with the crops and then I’m gonna take it into town. I guess when I’m doin’ that, you’re gonna help you’re mamma around the house.”

“But I wanna go to town too!”

“I know, hon, but town ain't really the nicest place for a five year old girl. Tell ya what, you get a lil bit older, and then I’ll take you to town and buy you any toy you want. That sound like a deal to you?”

“Okay!”

“Alright, honey, go get dressed,” as Robert said this, his daughter turned and ran out of the room, her curly red hair bouncing as she did. She had her mother’s hair and her father’s eyes. She was as adorable as she was curious about the world, and Robert wished he lived in a place where he could take her into town. The planet of Vega where he and his wife called home, however, was a crime-ridden backwater that the Union of Sovereign Planets forgot—and theirs was an especially bad patch. He turned to Jess and smiled at her before she spoke.

“Space pirates? I tell ya, Rob, we shouldn’t let her listen to the radio so late in the evening. It’s fillin’ her head with odd ideas.”

“Well she was fightin’ bad guys, wasn’t she?”

“Hm. I guess. We had a good harvest this year, didn’t we?”

“Best one in a while. Pretty soon we’re gonna be livin’ well, all that’s left is to sell it. Hey, you think Beth needs a new teddy bear?”

“I don’t see what’s wrong with her old one.”

“I know, but maybe he needs a friend?”

“You spoil her too much.”

“I spoil her just the right amount.”

“Well if you get enough money today, go for it.”

“I seen this thing in the general store, it’s some kinda animal from the Ktharg, is that how you say it? It’s cute as can be, I think she’d love it.”

“It’s Kthraax, honey.”

“Right, the Kthraax. Anyway, morning ain’t gonna last forever, let’s get at it.”

Rob got out of bed and his wife followed. He put jeans on over his long johns and turned to see his wife slipping out of her nightgown. He admired her for a moment—age hadn’t slowed her down one bit. They had met about seven years ago at an ‘establishment’ in town. Rob wasn’t particularly proud of having frequented that establishment so often in his youth, but he found love, so he wasn’t going to complain. She put on jeans as well, and Rob finished dressing with a button up and suspenders. He opened the bottom dresser drawer and pulled out his gun belt which contained his father’s old single-action revolver. It was loaded, but it wasn’t cocked. He went downstairs and his wife followed him soon after in a tee shirt. Entering the kitchen, he saw that Beth was pouring herself a bowl of cereal—and spilling it at that—to which Rob simply chuckled softly. He sat down and saw Beth was picking up the errant pieces of cereal and putting them in the bowl one by one. Waste not, want not, he thought. He picked up the cereal box and put his hand inside, taking out a handful which he promptly ate. It was distressingly sugary.

“Lord, honey, you’re gonna have too much energy today,” he said to Beth.

“What do you mean, dad?”

“Well sugar—ahh, nevermind, it’s too complicated.”

Jess chimed in, “You want pancakes, Rob?”

“I’d love some, thanks Jess.”

She went over to the stove and pulled a cast-iron pan down from the wall where it was hanging. She turned on the stove and placed the pan on the eye before moving to the cabinet and pulling out the box of pancake mix. Ten minutes later, her and Rob were feasting on a large stack of flapjacks. They tasted excellent.

“Jess, why’d you never go to culinary school?” he asked.

“Never had the time, I guess,” she replied.

There were no culinary schools on Vega. There were barely any schools, with even secondary education being a rarity. It was a wonder Rob and Jess were even literate to begin with, considering the area they called home was likely the least integrated place on the least integrated planet in the Union. In any case, Rob had finished his pancakes and looked down to see that Beth had finished her cereal. He swallowed the last of his milk and got up to go outside to his humble barn and begin the arduous task of loading the wagon with the vegetables he had spent the last several months cultivating and harvesting. Beth followed and they got to work.

Though only five years old, Beth already knew how to make herself useful. She sat on the side of the wagon and loaded the armfuls of potatoes, turnips, onions, and corn that her father brought into discrete sacks, one for every type of produce. Rob figured there was probably a more efficient way to do this, but he hadn’t put much thought into it since the hardships of day-to-day life took over most of his mental capacity. This was an especially good harvest, which meant that aside from a new stuffed animal for Beth, Rob would likely be able to do some much needed home-improvement. Hell, he might even have enough to finally buy an old holovision—depending on how much the O’Malley Boys would want from him.

The O’Malley Boys were the local gang that would come around demanding money from him and the other farmers in the area whenever it was harvesting season. They were a cruel group of outlanders who had a hideout several miles into the desert built into an old Neo-Catholic mission that had been long abandoned. Everyone in the area knew where the hideout was, but the O’Malley Boys were sufficient in number to deter any resistance from the local populace. In another life, one he never wanted his wife and daughter to know of, he was a loose associate of the O’Malleys. Though he never killed anyone, he did occasionally assist them with robberies when his back was especially against a wall. That was at least a decade ago, though, and even if he had helped them out prior, they gave him no special treatment. If anything, they were harder on him, considering him to have gone soft and grown a yellow-belly.

----------------------------------------

In a few hours time, the wagon was completely loaded to the brim with the produce. It was so full, in fact, that Rob would have to ride his horse on it’s back rather than sit in the wagon and risk damaging anything. He walked over to the small stable and approached his steed. “How are ya now, Samson?” he asked his horse. Samson neighed in response. “Yeah, me too, buddy.” Rob went over to the side of the stable and picked up the saddle, placing it on Samson and putting the bit into his mouth. He led Samson over to the wagon and got him hitched up. He then mounted Samson, leaned over to pick up Beth, and maneuvered the wagon to the side door of his house. He put Beth down and got off Samson. As they were walking to the door, Rob looked out on the horizon and saw a large plume of dust being kicked up. Someone was coming. Several people were coming. He unholstered his revolver and handed it to Beth.

“Beth, you take this and go inside to your mamma, and don’t play with it now.”

“Okay, daddy!” Beth ran inside and Rob stood next to the door, awaiting whoever was coming to his homestead. Soon they crested the hill that prevented him from identifying them and he counted out seven riders coming at speed in a hodgepodge delta formation. The closer they came, the easier they were to make out. They were O’Malley Boys. The dead giveaway was their trashy clothing and light blue armbands. They were nearly on him, and Rob now saw that the man taking point was none other than Sean O’Malley himself, their leader and the one who Rob knew the best. They approached the house and Sean O’Malley dismounted his white steed. A few others did as well, but some remained on horseback. Two of them had their weapons drawn, but the rest remained holstered. Sean walked up to Rob and waited a moment before speaking.

“Robert Drake, my old friend, how are things?”

“Pretty well, all things considered.”

“Good. Good. It’s that time of year again, you got our money?”

“Funny enough, you caught me leavin’ just as I was gonna head into town.”

Sean chuckled, “Just as you was headin’ into town? Rob, lemme ask you something: When’s harvesting season on Vega?”

“...February.”

“And what’s today?”

“February 28th.”

Sean placed a hand on Rob’s shoulder, “So you’re tellin’ me that you waited ‘til the end of the month? When you knew we was comin’?”

“Sean, I’m sorry, I-” before Rob could process it, Sean punched him hard in the stomach and used the hand on his shoulder to push him to the ground.

“I’m runnin a fuckin’ business here, Rob!” Sean mounted him and grabbed him by the collar. Rob instinctively grabbed Sean by the wrists, but remembered the gang of armed men around him, “Now you get me my goddamn money,” Sean broke free of Rob’s grip and punched him in the mouth, “or I’m putting Jess and Beth in the ground and burning this place up, you understand me?”

Rob could taste blood in his mouth, “Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. Under other circumstances, Rob would’ve put a bullet between Sean’s eyes.

Sean stood up and dusted himself off. Rob remained on the ground.

“Now you be quick about it, cause we’ll be back soon. If you ain’t got our money...well shit, you know what’ll happen. I ain’t one for waitin’.”

“So the old days don’t mean nothin’, do they?” Rob shouted.

Sean pulled his gun and aimed it at the still-grounded Rob, “They don’t mean nothin’ when a goddamn coward soaked in his own piss is involved,” he turned around and got back on his horse. The other men who had dismounted did the same. In another moment they were trotting away, at one point the group burst into laughter—likely at Rob’s expense. He got up and wiped his hand across his face. He spat out the blood in his mouth and heard the door open. He turned to see Jess coming out and looking more worried than he’d ever seen her before.

“Rob, we need to get outta here before they come back, I-”

“No, Jess, Sean O’Malley’s bark is worse than his bite. You just stay here with Beth and hold the place down ‘til I get back.”

“Rob, you can’t just-”

“Honey please! Trust me, this’ll all be over by the end of the day. I ain’t gonna let nobody hurt you. I know Sean, he’s a dumb sonovabitch, but long as he gets his money he ain’t gonna hurt anybody. If they do end up comin’ back, you take my revolver and the gun over the fireplace and hide with Beth in the closet. Trust me, you ain’t gonna have to do that.”

Beth came out of the door and saw her father’s mouth bleeding, “Daddy, what happened?” she asked.

“Daddy fell down, sweet pea, it’s alright. Now, I’m gonna go on into town and sell the produce. You watch out for your mamma and listen to what she says, alright?”

“Okay!” Beth said. Rob went over to Samson and climbed onto him.

“Rob-Robert, I love you,” Jess said.

“I love you too, Jess. I love the both of you more than I can explain. I’ll be back soon,” Rob could see that Jess looked tearful as he began spurring Samson forward. He started off to town at a much quicker pace than usual.

----------------------------------------

Two hours later, Rob and his wagon arrived in the small town of Drywater. The sheet metal of the buildings that were hastily thrown together after a part of the seed ship made landfall were gleaming in the midday suns. Dust was blowing heavily through the town, brought in from the February winds that streaked across the arid planet. Upon entering the main drag, he slowed down a bit and pointed Samson in the direction of Lloyd and Lloyd’s Shipping and Spaceport. To call it a spaceport was an extreme stretch. It had a single landing pad fit for a cargo shuttle and nothing else. Still, Lloyd and Lloyd’s was the best place in town for him to sell his harvest as they could get the goods to a space station that could transport them to an even needier part of Vega at a premium. Rob had known the current owner, Tommy Lloyd, for many years at this point and though he was somewhat cheap, he generally could be haggled up to a fair price. As he pulled his wagon alongside the building, two workers that knew Rob immediately came behind the wagon and began unloading the produce. Rob got off of Samson and entered the main building. He saw Tommy in a vest over an apron, standing behind a counter and tallying up expenses and profits on a small tablet computer. Tommy looked up to see Rob, took off his reading glasses, and ran his hand over his now bald head as a force of habit. Rob walked over to the counter.

“Tommy, good to see ya. How’s business?” Rob asked.

“Been a slow couple of weeks, Rob. You bringing in your harvest?” Tommy said.

“Indeed I am.”

“How much of everything do you have?”

“Uh, let’s see...ten bags of potatoes, twelve bags of turnips, thirteen bags of onions, and twenty bags of corn.”

“Looks like you had a good run. Let me do some math real quick,” Tommy put his glasses back on and tapped his tablet several times before looking back at Rob, “I can give you 600.”

“600 dollars? For all that, you’re only gonna give me 600 dollars?”

“Sorry, Rob, it’s the best I can do. Times are tough.”

“You know damn well that produce out there is worth at least 1000. You’re probably gonna sell it for 2000, easy. You’re robbing me at 600.”

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

“Rob, please, it’s just business, I-”

“It ain’t just business, Tommy! It’s survival! O’Malley Boys came up to the ‘stead this morning wanting their money. Hell, they’ll probably want 600 just to not put my family in the ground! Come on, Tommy, work with me here!”

Tommy sighed, “Alright. 750 is the best I can do. Only since it’s you, Rob.”

Rob put his hands on his waist and looked up at the ceiling before looking back at Tommy, “Fine,” he said.

Tommy went over to the cash register and pressed his hand up to the palm-scanner. The register opened with a ding and Tommy counted out the money. He handed Rob seven one-hundred dollar bills, emblazoned with a portrait of the Union’s first president, and one fifty dollar bill that had a portrait of an old admiral. Rob took the money and stuffed it into his pocket. He turned to leave. Cheap bastard, he thought.

Leaving Lloyd and Llyod’s, Rob saw that the employees had finished unloading his wagon. Now able to sit on its bench properly, he grabbed the reins and unfurled them completely before sitting up on the wagon. He signaled for Samson to start moving and he began trotting forward. Turning around towards the outskirts of Drywater, Rob snapped the reins to make Samson move a little faster. As they cleared the last building on the perimeter of Drywater, Rob snapped the reins again and Samson was able to move at a full gallop given that there was no produce to protect and that the load was much lighter. The road was much bumpier at this speed.

Thirty minutes into the ride back to the homestead, the right-back wheel of the wagon snapped off due to stress. Rob nearly fell off due to the shock, but managed to stay on the wagon and pulled back on the reins in order to get Samson to stop. The wheel was 20 feet behind the point where the wagon had stopped, and the bit in Samson’s mouth had slanted heavily down to the right. Rob got off the tilted wagon and removed the bit from Samson’s mouth but left him hitched to the wagon. Shit, he thought. He went the short distance to pick up the wheel and saw that it was still in good condition, merely that the cap holding it to the axle had been knocked loose during the ride. The cap itself was thankfully only a foot to the side of the detached wheel. Rob picked up the cap and set the wheel on its side before he began rolling it back towards the wagon. He took out a small hand-jack and mallet that he always kept in the wagon for occasions such as these and slipped it under the wooden axle. As he slowly rotated the jack and the wagon started to lift up, he could hear the wood groan under the stress. Easy now, easy, he thought. Eventually, the wagon was in a position where he could slip the wheel back on. He did so, and then held the cap in place as he started swinging at it with the mallet. In a few good strokes, he had managed to get the cap nice and snug over the wheel. He gave it a spin for safety and it seemed secure enough. He went back down to the jack and lowered it, the wagon making one final noise as the wheel made contact with the dry ground. Rob looked up at the sky. Judging by where the suns were in relation to the horizon, the whole process must’ve taken him 45 minutes. He quickly placed the bit back in Samson’s mouth and resumed his journey home—being quite a bit more cautious about bumps in the road.

----------------------------------------

Well, this turned into a day. 750 dollars, what the hell does Tommy expect me to do with that? I don’t really know who’s robbing me anymore—him? or the O’Malleys? Never should’ve fell in with em, that’s for damn sure. I bet they get off on givin’ me an especially hard time. Can’t take that it was just me workin' outta desperation. I hope Jess ain’t too mad at me for leaving her and Beth alone. I don’t see why she got so worked up, it really weren't anything out of the ordinary. I been hit by an O’Malley plenty of times, it don’t mean nothing. All them folk do is ride around scaring people, it must’ve been a couple months since they actually shot anybody. This place really needs a lawman, I know that much. Wonder if we ever had a lawman? Heh, he must not have lasted very long if we did. I sure as hell wouldn’t wanna keep tabs on all the shit that’s piled up around here. Way back when, when the O’Malleys would rob you, they’d tell you it was ‘protection money’ but that was always a load. Protect us from what? Other O’Malleys? Least now when they rob you, they don’t use an excuse. Yeah, a good old-fashioned shakedown. Why am I so tired already? My thirties have been good to me, least I think they have, but I’m too damn sleepy considering the time. Suns will be setting soon, I guess that’s when the O’Malleys will be back. I’ll probably make it home just before they get there. Here’s hopin’ they don’t take all my money. Wish Beth was old enough to understand. Wish she didn’t have anything to understand. If I had a million dollars we’d be off this rock in an instant.

As Rob was approaching his home and growing ever more lost in his thoughts, it took him a moment to notice the smoke on the horizon.

No!

Rob slowed Samson down and jumped from his seat onto Samson’s back and crawled into the saddle. He quickly undid the harness that yoked Samson to the wagon and grabbed his reins, spurring him on harder than he ever had before. Samson broke out into a full gallop, almost sensing the urgency of the situation at hand, he was going faster than Rob knew him capable of going. Rounding the hill that obscured his vision of the homestead, Rob’s worst fears were confirmed.

His home was in smoldering ruins. The top floor appeared to have caved-in on itself and most of the walls of the first floor had been burnt through, leaving only a few ashy planks of wood and a chimney denoting that a house had ever even been there. The barn was completely destroyed. As he came closer and closer, the smell of smoke choked his lungs. Thankfully, Rob only smelled woodsmoke and not anything that would signal to him that bodies had been burned. He slowed down in order to better survey the situation.

“Beth! Jess! Where are you?” he yelled. There was no answer, “Beth, honey! Come to daddy! Jess, I know you’re around here!” Nothing. Rob continued to move around the perimeter of his burnt-out homestead. He rounded the corner where the side door used to be. He froze.

Looking down, Rob was greeted with the sight of Beth and Jess splayed out on the ground, unmoving. Beth was face down in the dust and Jess was staring up at the sky. Rob paused for a moment, dismounted Samson, and started walking over to them. Every step he took was slower than the last, and he knew better than to call out to them. They were still like statues and would not answer. Upon closer inspection, he saw that their clothes were ripped. Jess had several bruises all over and a look of horror on her face punctuated by a small hole in her forehead, streaked with blood. Rob dreaded to examine Beth’s body. He knelt down and flipped his daughter over. Her eyes were closed, at least, but he could tell that she had been crying up until the point her life ended. There was a hole in the side of her head. He remained on bended knee and said nothing. He thought nothing. He felt nothing. He was nothing.

All at once and without any conscious input, Robert Drake let out a primal scream that emanated from his very being—the sound seeming to echo to him even though there were no walls with which to reflect the soundwaves. He picked up Beth’s lifeless body as his own tears began to flow freely. He remained like this for a time before moving over in between their bodies, closing Jess’s eyes with his free hand, and lifting Jess up in his other arm. He rocked back and forth, weeping uncontrollably and holding the family he had made. He didn’t know how much time had passed before he managed to gain a measure of composure and gently laid them down. He stood over them for a moment and surveyed the dusty field behind his home where they had harvested their crops only a few days prior. They deserved infinitely more, but it would have to do. He picked up Beth’s body first and carried it to his intended burial site. He placed her down gently and crossed her arms before returning to Jess and repeating the process, laying them side by side. Rob walked over to Samson’s stable, somehow the only building still standing, and scanned the wall for the spare shovel that he kept in Samson’s abode. He spotted it hanging on the wall and picked it up. He also grabbed a small hammer sitting in the corner and used it to pull a few loose nails out of a board in the wall. Rob went back over to where his family lay and began digging a small grave for Beth. He momentarily thought about coffins. It didn’t matter. He’d be a dead man soon enough. In about an hour or so, he had a suitable resting place for Beth. He held off on placing her in until he had one dug for Jess.

Rob started on Jess’s grave and worked for about fifteen minutes before he was interrupted. He either hadn’t heard or chose to ignore the sounds of a horse drawn wagon coming up behind him. It came to a stop and the driver hopped down quickly and walked over to Rob.

“Rob! Rob, my God, son! What happened?” a man asked.

Rob turned and saw Reverend Silas Abernathy coming towards him. He turned back around and continued digging, “O’Malleys happened, Preacher.”

Reverend Silas walked over to Jess and Beth’s bodies, “I’ll suppose I’ll use my sin for the week: Those O’Malleys are fucking animals. Let me help you, Robert,” Reverend Silas returned to his wagon and grabbed a shovel from the back. He helped Rob dig Jess’s grave and the two of them working together managed to finish much quicker than Rob would have been able to on his own, “You don’t have coffins, son?”

“No, Preacher,” Rob said.

“Hold on, let me check my wagon for something,” Reverend Silas went back over to his wagon and found two old tarps that he had used when repainting the inside of his country church a few miles from Drywater. They were ratty and stained with paint. Figuring that it would be better than burying them in the dirt, he pulled the tarps out of the wagon and brought them over, “Here, Rob, let’s wrap them in these. It’s better than nothing, at least,” Rob simply nodded at the Reverend as he handed him the tarps. Rob laid out a tarp next to Beth and placed her in it. He pulled it over Beth’s arms, leaving her face uncovered, and kissed her forehead, “Goodbye, sweet-pea. Daddy’s so sorry.” Rob covered her face with the tarp and laid her down into the grave. He did the same with Jess, saying to her: “I swear I’ll make this right. Just you wait a little bit. I love you so much,” he then repeated the process he had done with Beth. With both of them in their respective graves, the two men lingered without speaking for a time.

“My God, Rob, this is about the worst thing I’ve seen in all my years,” Reverend Silas eventually said.

“God ain’t have nothin’ to do with this, Preacher.”

“I know, son, I know. Would you like me to say a few words?”

“Go ahead, Silas.”

Silas removed a small stole from his pocket denoting him as a priest in the Baptist Rite of the Neo-Catholic church and draped it around his shoulders. “Lord, we come to you today to welcome two more angels into your kingdom: Mrs. Jessica Drake and little Bethany Drake—but of course you know ‘em already, Father. Life out here on this rock you made ain’t easy, Lord, but we thank you for their memory and for lettin’ us know ‘em. Given the circumstances, I imagine they were taken from us on account of the root of all evil. I pray that you’d purge that desire from all the folks on Vega. All the same, I ain’t too sure what else to say. Something like this don’t really have words to go with it. So comfort us, Father, and comfort Rob. He’s a good man. In your name we commend the departed. Thank you, Lord,” Silas finished and looked dejected at his own words. Though he had been a man of the cloth for thirty years, and had seen a handful of similar events in that time, this was the first one that had left him feeling completely empty after speaking for the dead. It wasn’t a crisis of faith, per se, but he knew deep down that the words would ring hollow to Rob. They waited for a minute that felt like an hour before Rob picked up his shovel and began putting the dirt over Jess. Silas came over with his own shovel and helped him along. They finished with Jess and moved over to Beth. Silas let Rob have the first couple of shovelfuls before joining in. In a short time, both of the graves were filled.

“Preacher, can you go over to what’s left of the house there and find me four boards. Need to make graves, ya know?” Rob said.

“Of course, son.”

Silas walked over to the house and began looking around for suitable boards to make small crosses with. Surveying the damage, Silas saw that only a small portion of the home was anything approaching intact. The fireplace, ironically, was still standing—along with the wood from the walls around it. Everything else was charred, but at this point had stopped burning outright. He managed to pry some intact boards from the wall around the fireplace. Silas brought them back to Rob and he fished the nails from his pocket. The nails went easily through the boards as he hammered them through. In a minute the two rudimentary crosses were finished, “You got a knife, Preacher?” Rob asked. Silas nodded, pulled a small pocket-knife out of his pants, and handed it to him. He started carving two short epitaphs:

‘Why trouble ye the woman? for she hath wrought a good work upon me, Jessica Magdelena Drake, 3977-4005’

‘Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven, Bethany Eloise Drake, 4000-4005’

“Excellent choice, son,” Silas said.

“Thanks, Preacher,” he handed Silas his knife back and took Jess’s cross and the hammer over to the head of her grave. He placed it in the ground and hammered it in place. He did the same for Beth and the impromptu funeral was finished.

“Rob, come on back to my house. You can stay with me as long as you need,” Silas said.

“No thanks, Preacher.”

“Alright, I understand. You want me to stick around then?”

“No, Silas, you can go on home.”

“Okay, son. I’m so sorry.”

“Ain’t nothin’ you did.”

Silas sighed and nodded at Rob. He picked up his shovel and placed it back in his wagon before climbing on and grabbing the reins of his horses. He looked down at Rob and saw him staring blankly at the graves. He thought of saying something else, but he couldn’t think of anything that would be helpful. He used the reins to signal his horses onward and left Rob’s homestead.

Rob remained at the graves until the sounds of the Reverend’s wagon faded off into the distance. The only thing he could hear at this point was the cold winds blowing through in the twilight. He turned from the graves and went into the ruins of his house. He went over to the still-standing fireplace and looked at the mantle. Thankfully, somehow, the rifle he had left for his family was still there. He grabbed it from the mantle and squatted down to a floorboard where he kept the ammunition. Pulling it up, he saw that the half-empty box of .357 Magnums was still there. He picked it up and sat on the floor. Using the last of the daylight, he pulled back on the lever of the rifle and opened the magazine. He slowly loaded twelve rounds into the magazine underneath the barrel and placed one in the chamber. The box was empty. Thirteen shots. He had left his revolver with Beth and Jess, and didn’t see it anywhere near their bodies. Rob decided to look around the ruins on the off chance that the revolver was still there. In thirty minutes, against all odds, he managed to find it. He flipped out the cylinder and saw that there were only four bullets in the chamber. Two of them had been fired. How did-? He stopped this line of thinking before it led to its likely conclusion of him breaking down in tears again. Placing the revolver back in his holster, he made one last look in his destroyed kitchen for the pair of binoculars that would’ve been kept in the junk-drawer. Looking around the likely area, he eventually managed to find them. One of the lenses was now broken, so it would have to function more like a spyglass. He picked them up and brought them over to where his rifle was.

----------------------------------------

Seventeen bullets and a pair of binoculars wouldn’t be enough to annihilate the O’Malley Boys. That wouldn’t stop him from trying. He went outside and got on Samson, spurring him towards the old mission. Night had now fallen, but the moonlight on Vega was bright even by most standards in the Milky Way due to the thin atmosphere. He could easily see the path that led deeper into the desert and ended at the mission. Rob had trod the trail several times before in his past, and knew that soon he’d be at a rise that gave an excellent view of the entire compound.

He crested the hill and rode Samson to the side of the trail behind a small rock. He dismounted and grabbed his rifle and binoculars. Taking a knee behind the rock, Rob looked out at the mission with one eye through the intact lens.

There were no additional defenses around the front entrance. It was merely an open plaster archway. The compound was lit by several lanterns and metal barrels with flaming refuse on the lower level. The upper level had scant electric lighting, and the partition between the upper and lower levels was defended by a heavy metal door that Rob had no recollection of and that looked out of place compared to the softer architectural cues of the rest of the mission. Must be a new addition, he thought. The walls around the perimeter were tall, but not particularly thick. He didn’t see anyone patrolling around them. At that point, he decided to start counting the number of O’Malleys. After about twenty minutes of scouting, he counted out eighteen O’Malley Boys—and those were just the ones who were outside. Rob would need more ammunition for the ones actually inside the mission. He could probably find some off of the ones he managed to kill. That still left the problem of the large metal door leading to the upper level? How would he manage to get through that? There was certainly a will, but he couldn’t figure out a way. Peering through the binoculars for so long, he had entered a trance-like state and his spatial awareness of what was in his immediate vicinity was impaired to the point of near nonexistence.

“Rob?” a voice called out.

He dropped the binoculars and whipped himself around, pulling out his revolver and aiming it in the direction of the voice. As his depth perception readjusted, he could make out Reverend Silas in the moonlight.

“Easy, son, it’s me.”

“Preacher,” he holstered his gun, “whatchu want?”

“Thought I might see you out here. Just wanna talk to a young man before he throws his life away.”

“Well that’s real kind of ya, but there ain’t no talkin’ me down from this.”

“Yeah, of course there ain’t. There ain’t nothin’ this old man of the cloth can say that will get you to stop what you’re about to do. I can see it in your eyes, Rob, you wanna die just as quickly as possible so you can be with ‘em again, don’t you?”

Rob didn’t answer for a beat, “No. I want to kill these bastards first.”

“And how do you plan on that? You think one man can kill Lord knows how many are in there with a rifle and a handgun? Rage is real powerful, son, but it ain’t no substitute for tactics. You can’t play this smart, so you’ll play it dumb, and you’ll be lucky to get one or two of ‘em before you end up riddled with a lot more holes than you have now. That’s assuming of course that they don’t manage to take you alive and torture you first. If they can kill a five year old girl, what makes you think they won’t do a whole hell of a lot worse to a grown man before they end him? You’re gonna be throwing your life away and it ain’t gonna be for nothing but anger.”

“Them’s a lot of big words for someone who ain’t just lost their whole family.”

“Maybe so. You remember when I baptised Beth?”

“I do. She was real cute in her little dress.”

“Cutest baby I ever saw. You think she’d want her daddy to die like this?”

“...No.”

“And what about Jess? I think she’d want something a little different. She’d want justice, not revenge. You’re right, Rob, I don’t know your pain. I don’t want to know your pain. You’re the only one that can. But deep down you know this ain’t how you gotta play this. I’m not saying you don’t come back someday and give these sons of bitches what they deserve, but not tonight son. Not when it’s just you against all of them,” Silas sighed and resumed speaking, “Rob, I’ll tell you: Even I’m not one-hundred percent sure what the next life holds. A lot of nights I spend lying up in bed asking God for an inkling of an answer, but he ain’t told me anything about it. But I am one-hundred percent sure that if you get yourself killed tonight fighting O’Malleys, Beth and Jess’s memory will die with you—and I got a sneaking suspicion that you wanting to preserve that is stronger than your fury right now.”

Rob couldn’t respond for a long time, but Silas simply stayed standing and watched him contemplate his words. Thoughts of his hoped-for future with them whirled about in his mind: all of the hopes and dreams Jess had whispered to him in their bed, all of Beth’s aspirations—even up to being a space pirate fighting ‘bad guys’, and finally all of his own plans, most of them simply pertaining to making life better for him and his family. The weight of it all was too much. Rob began to cry.

“Well, what the hell do I do now, Silas?” he choked out.

The Reverend knelt down and placed a hand on Rob’s shoulder, “I don’t rightly know, son. If I can ask: How much money do you have?”

“A-about 750 dollars and some change.”

“I think Tommy can get you off-planet for that much, especially given the circumstances. You could hop to a station in the belt, make some money out there and repeat the process. Do that ‘til you have enough to hire some friends and level that shithole from orbit, or something like that. Then you get your justice.”

Rob thought for a moment, “Level it from orbit? No, I’d wanna see their faces. But getting the hell away from Vega don’t seem like a bad idea.”

“Come on, son, let’s head towards Drywater. I’ll ride with you.”

Rob gave one last look to the old mission. Don’t y’all go anywhere. I’ll be back, he thought as he picked up his rifle and walked back over to Samson.

----------------------------------------

Their ride to Drywater was long and quiet. There wasn’t really much to say. By the time they had reached town, the suns were about to rise. As they came into the main street, people were just beginning their days and Lloyd and Lloyd’s had a cargo shuttle being loaded on the landing pad. Moving their horses to the sidewalk by the front office, Rob and the Reverend dismounted.

“Rob, that shuttle will probably be your ride. I don’t guess we got time for a long goodbye,” Silas said.

“I’ll make it up to ya when I come back. Do me a favor, could you take Samson and my rifle? Keep ‘em safe until then?”

“Of course, son. Samson’s a strong boy, he’ll be real helpful.”

“Don’t work him too hard.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Goodbye, Mr. Drake. You find your fortune and come do right by your family. If anybody can, it’s you.”

“Thanks, Preacher. You’re a good man,” Rob shook his hand and went inside the office. Tommy was in a similar outfit to yesterday’s giving a final look to the cargo manifest on his tablet before sending the shuttle into the black. He noticed Rob.

“Rob, I told you 750 is the best I can do. I’m sorry, I’m running-”

“Tommy, sit down and shut up for a minute. I have to explain something.”

----------------------------------------

Twenty minutes later, Rob was in the back of the shuttle sitting next to the produce he had sold the previous day. The pilot peeked his head around the doorway, “We’re taking off now. Ain’t often we get passengers, so hold on to something,” he said. Rob placed his hand around the rail and heard the blast of the engines as he felt the shuttle lift vertically. After a short period of vertical lift, he felt the inertia shift to a horizontal incline. There were no windows in the back, so Rob had no idea where he was or how high they were. One thing was for certain: As the shuttle crept forward on its lonely journey to a station in the asteroid belt, Robert Drake left Vega for the first time.

A broken man.

A hollow man.

A single drop in the sea of stars.