The ‘horse landed with Dallas in it for the last time that evening. Others lifted off and landed, ground cars’ wheels tuned and growled as people were picked up and dropped off at the doorways to the busiest place Dallas knew.

He opened the passenger door, stood outside the aircar and looked at the Lone Star Port. His grandfather’s sword snapped tight on the right side of his belt, the small sack of money slung over his left shoulder, he watched for a few seconds the holographic, gold-colored five pointed star hovered inside its ghostly circle. its quiet rotations a striking contrast to the hustling, bustling, yelling of the people and humming and frothing of engines.

Far at the back was his destination:

A lone tower with a single, glass elevator shaft that rose a dozen stories high stood at the far end of the starport. And next to the long, spindly elevator stood the pride of Dallas Morgan’s family:

The ancestral, longsword class battle mech: The Galantine. A hundred-twenty feet and sixty tons of metal, weapons, and death, it had fought at the forefront of two major and at least a dozen minor conflicts that had kept New Avalon free from interference from Corporates, pirates, and others who would have pillaged or conquered them.

And tonight, Dallas was going to steal it.

“So, he was helped here, then?”

Huston had long since docked his pistols in the pocket-holsters of his armor-weave longcoat. Austin was standing back this time, as his elder brother did the majority of the talking.

“Ayup,” said Zeke, tipping back his wide-brimmed cowboy hat as he slipped his hand into the pocket of the white jacket he’d hastily pulled on over his blue-checked shirt and jeans when the two brothers had entered the room. “Yer family, and you’re Morgans, so no point in hidin’ it. He had contusions on his face, shoulders and chest area. One spot on his face had a bit of infection already settlin’ in for a spell ‘cause Hardin had scraped some muck from his shoe on a spot where the skin was broke.”

“Thas’ kind’ve Hardin’s callin’ card,” Joe said, tipping back his orange ballcap and leaning back in his chair. “He liked ta do that once a fight’s over. Makes folks think twice a’fore they tussle with ‘im again.”

“Any other injuries? Should we be worried?”

“A few cracked ribs, lessee-” Zeke said, turning to his Datapad. “Three hairline fractures, two oblique, one transverse. Two displaced, transversed. I scanned his chest with the knitter over there, and he was all rodeo in a few minutes after.”

“Any chances of the wound reopening?”

“Ah-nope. Unless he went back to fight Hardin, mebbe get’imself some payback. But it didn’t look like that was gonna be a prob.”

“Why?” Austin said. He was feeling uncharacteristically impatient; he was tired and wanted to sleep, and Dallas was making things more difficult by the minute.

“Cause he took off for Lone Star, soon as he left here.”

“You sure you wanna keep goin’ pard?”

Gregor ‘Gabs’ Hayes looked up at Dallas, wishing he’d been that handsome when he was younger. It was more than the fact that the boy had been his most profitable fare of the night that made him reluctant to just dump him at Lone Starport.

“Yep. Thanks for your help tonight, Mr. Hayes.”

“Gabs, kid. My friends call me Gabs. Look, ah, your girl. You- do you really wanna leave, if she ain’t goin’ witcha?”

“She was never my girl, Gabs. I get that now. And yes, I need to go. With or without her.”

“Well, I’m jus’ gonna…wait here a bit, in case yuh…well, in case things change a bit. Y’know?”

“You do that. But if you see that Mech over there go up? It means I won’t be coming back.”

“You- Boy, you sure you know what yer doin’?”

“Does anyone? Good bye, Gabs,” Dallas said, tapping the roof twice with his open palm and starting towards the giant mech with a quick, steady gait.

Gabs watched the young man walk in the darkness with the road and starport civvie lights shining on him. Several fares lit up on his panel, but he ignored them. Either your going to nee another ride in a few, he thought to himself, or I’m going to see a mech doing a ground launch- something no one’s seen since Corporates walked on this ball of dirt a quarter century ago. He lit up another cigavape and made himself comfortable, eyes on the retreating form of Dallas Morgan.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

“He’s going where?”

Austin winced as his pater’s voice roared through the comm, happy that at least he didn’t have to see his father’s angry facial expressions. The voice alone brought back too many unhappy memories of times he’d been forced to sit in a chair while he and mater had yelled at him for disappointing them yet again.

“He was apparently hurt in his altercation with Secunda’s…er…friend, visited a local independent hospital, and is en route, Pater to the Lone StarPort.”

“And the girl?”

“She apparently elected to remain in her place of employment, once she learned that Dallas had apparently given up his title and all but his trust fund to marry her.”

“Well, there’s some good news at least. Where are you now?”

“Houston and I are in his aircar, and we are in pursuit. I’ve no idea what transport he plans to board or what his destination is. He may just roll dice to decide once he gets there; as I’m sure you’re aware, pater, as Lupin said, ‘a young man spurned is often anything but predictable.’ ”

“I don’t particularly care for 25th century song lyrics, Austin. I don’t want your brother doing anything he’ll regret for the rest of his life!”

“Pater,” Huston’s voice now, calm and clipped, “we are approximately five minutes from Lone Star. If you were to order a lockdown of the Port, it would make finding him significantly easier.”

“Good idea, son. Anything else?”

Austin said, “Why aren’t you involving the gendarmes in this, Pater? Young Dallas is in a very fragile state of mind.”

“Because of my oath, Austin. I swore that I would never abuse my office with regards to legislative, judicial or law-enforcement capabilities. We effectively own Lone Star, so we can do as we please. But I cannot ask Chief Inspector Kai to do more to obtain Dallas than we would any other…thief.” Texas said the last word about his son as if it were poison in his mouth.

Huston said, “Does Dallas at least have a tail on him, Pater?”

“Yes. We are searching for the hacker who obtained his trust fund for him, and there is a gendarme following his…what do you young people call the hired transports again?”

“The horse, pater.”

“Thank you, Austin. The horse he traveled in has…let him out at the airport. I will freeze all takeoffs until he’s found. Can you boys do so quickly? I only can have a few gendarmes assist you.”

“There are only a half-dozen launching pads for him to take at this time of night, Pater,” Austin said. “Unless our little brother decides to leave the planet by flapping his arms, or something equally dramatic, we’ll find him, Pater. Have no fear.”

The comm rang in the dark room, a small red light blinking in tandem with the sound.

The room’s sole occupant woke, stared at the ceiling and sighed. When the comm refused to be part of a bad dream, he reached a long, ponderous arm draped in the sleeve of an expensive sleeping gown and pressed a well-worn button near the blinking light.

“Sir, I-” began the tinny voice on the other end of the comm.

“It is currently four-thirty-seven in the morning, Sergeant.”

“Yes, my Lord, I-”

“I do not detect vibrations in my room consistent with that of an earthquake, Sergeant.”

“True, my Lord. Howev-”

“My ears detect no raiding sirens consistent with an attack on our borders by Corporates, pirates, Read-Star Coalition forces, Lord Morgan, or any other groups adverse to my interests.”

“No my Lord. But you-”

“And, last of all- no, I just looked outside my window. The moon has not, as of yet, turned to blood, and the stars remain at their fixed positions in the sky. As the apocalypse has not, in fact, occurred, you had best have the most excellent of reasons for this intrusion upon my sleep, Sergeant, or significant consequences will follow sure as the sun will rise in…three more hours.”

“Viscount Moredead, you specifically left in my post orders that you were to be contacted immediately if information of a significant nature became available regarding Lord Morgan.”

At that the middle-aged man did sit up in his opulent bed and waved his large hand over the light-sensor. As the light softly illuminated the room, Viscount Moredead’s eyes went from squinting in the new light to dark and focused within seconds.

“That is, indeed a good reason, Sergeant. Report.”

“It would appear that a significant fracture has taken place in the Morgan family structure. Lord Morgan’s youngest son has rebelled against his father’s authority, depleted his trust fund, attempted to marry without with Father’s blessing, stolen a family heirloom, been sighted entering a house of poor-reputation, been beaten severely in a pugilistic match with a criminal lowlife, and has headed alone to the Lone Starport.”

Moredead’s face showed the thoughts and plans moving through his head. “My…my. Thank you for that report, Sergeant. How widely known is this information?”

“My contact in the gendarmes informed me only seconds ago, my Lord.”

“Hm. Well, then…” Morded’s face, known for its perpetual scowl, pulled itself unknowingly into a smile. “This is, indeed, significant,” he said, almost to himself. Turning back to the comm, his voice resumed its nigh-legendary brusqueness. "You will keep me apprised of any new developments in this matter, Sergeant.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Lord Moredead out.”

Viscount Moreded looked out the window for a full thirty seconds before he acted. An eternity for him, but worthwhile. “Fay,” he said suddenly.

“I am here, Viscount Moreded,” said a female voice.

“Fay, get me my contact from the local screamsheet on the comm. Tell him it is priority one.”

“I shall do so immediately, Viscount. Shall there be anything else?”

“Make your voice sexier next time just you and I are in conversation. I like it when I can forget you’re an A.I.”

“Absolutely, my dear Viscount,” the voice said, suddenly purring and drawing out the vowels in its speech.

“Needs work, Fay. But we can do that later.”