“How close are we?”

“Close enough you should shut up.”

Austin slumped in the passenger chair and folded his arms, letting his long hair droop over his eyes. So easy to fall back in to old patterns, he thought. When they’d been kids, Huston had been the disdainful oldest, always throwing cold water on Austin’s fantastic plans or Dallas’ mercurian moods. Austin soon learned to shut the world out when his big brother would rip on him this way, often for the simplest of honest questions. If a parent treated you this way, they’d call it abuse, Austin thought. When a sibling does it, they call it ‘part of growing up.’ How fair was that?

“ETA thirty seconds,” Huston said, characteristically unconcerned by his younger brother’s angry mood.

“Are you ever gonna get that stick removed from up your rectum, Hughes?” Austin said, using the shortened form of his elder brother’s name that he knew Huston detested.

“Aus, I said shuddup. We’ve got to hope that Dally’s managed to flup-up enough on his way to the top of the spire that he’s been knocked out by the first and second ring of defenses. Otherwise, then we have to worry about Gareth putting a nice, big hole in his chest the size of your nice, small head.”

“My head’s not small!”

“I could use it to thread a needle and have about a mile to spare.”

“Shut up, geek.”

“Whatever. Landing in 3…2…1…”

#

Huston’s aircar was landing just as Kai’s was pulling down to the same lot. Bloody little filtercarbs, Kai thought briefly, then chided himself. HUston and Austin weren’t what he’d want as ether sons or admins, but they were light-years better compared to some of the stories about ruler’s sons he’d heard about on other worlds. THese two at least had a developed enough sense of duty that they were going to attempt to fill the shoes their father left for them, even if their hearts would rather have been elsewhere.

Kai sighed, hoping they wouldn’t get in the way so many family members normally did when they showed up in a crisis situation like…

No.

Kai stopped himself.

There was no situation like this. Never had been. No one had even conceived that a son of Morgan would steal from his own family, much less try to abscond with the Galatine, which had lit up the night for the city for decades.

His comm started blinking- Lord Morgan again.

“Sir?” he said, trying mightily to keep the weariness out of his voice.

“Report?”

“We’ve a testimony from the ‘horse driver that Dallas was dropped off here. We have footage showing he entered the spire- I viewed it on my way over, sending it to you now. Dallas has apparently…we’re getting it now. It appears he- really?”

“Kai?” the edge was barely contained in Morgan’s voice.

“He managed to bypass both levels of security, sir. Some of the footage- it would appear that he- ahem , urinated on a piece of cloth in the lift as a precaution to encountering the gas.”

“How- why’d he do that?”

“The soldiers on Old Earth, sir, in the first World War would…”

“Alright, I don’t care about that. Now I know where he got it. Kai, has he made it to the top? Why isn’t anyone talking to Gareth”

“I am sorry , sir,” Kai said, now purposefully striding past Huston and Austin while ignoring their attempts to get his attention, “but you may recollect your own insistence that there be no ability to communicate with Mister Gareth unless his weapon was discharged first, in order to keep all communications secure and free from potential pranksters and con men, since we do not employ, at your insistence, surveillance technology above a level five standard of complexity.”

“Fine, Kai. Where is Dallas now?”

A red circle began flashing in the corner of Kai’s tablet, accompanied by a soft hum.

“Kai, what’s that?”

Pause.

“My Lord, it would seem that…Kai has discharged his weapon.”

“Get in there!”

“Yes, my Lord.”

#

The world had gone very, very dark.

Slak opened his eyes. The smell of vaporized metal filled his nostrils, and he suddenly felt very, very sore every place that Secunda’s pimp had slammed him an hour ago - or had it been that long?

“Get up, Dallas,” he heard Gareth’s voice say.

Dallas looked over. Gareth had holstered his weapon, and was staring at Dallas with a gaze that could curdle milk.

Dallas rose to a standing position. “Well?” Dallas asked, “are you gonna kill me, or do we fight?”

“Misellus es, iuvenis.”

“What did you just call me?”

“You heard me, Dallas. Pathetic. You’re pathetic right now, young Lordling. Do you know that? I could have killed you just now, and you’d have forgotten to use your grandfather’s sword in self-defense.”

Dallas gulped, looked down at the hilt still magnatized to his belt. He pulled it out and lit its blade, suddenly moving into a combat stance.

“Oh, please, boy, parcant mihi. Do you really think you know how to use that well enough to stop me? I could have just tuned you head into a piece of abstract art on the floor, and still could in under a second.”

“I’m getting in that mech, Mister Gareth.”

“On this, we both agree.”

Dallas paused. “What?”

“I am reinterpreting the particulars of my oath, Dallas. Upon seeing you had ascended to these hights, I disabled the sensors on my weapon before I fired. I’d hoped to scare you off and then speak privately to your pater later.”

“Not a good plan.”

“Yes, I know that, now. They are now aware I’ve discharged my weapon, and are likely calling the lift down to their level. They will not succeed until we leave.”

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Well you- wait…did you say we?”

“You mean to take the Galatine, young Dallas. And I will accompany you. You’ve never been offworld, while I was born in space. You know how to fight only on terms appropriate to a well-set and ordered tournament, while I have fought in every setting from bars to mech-wars. You need me, or you’ll lose your life to the first ten-year old you encounter who knows how to swing a vibroknife.”

“You’re- you’re not going to kill me, then?”

“I swore to put the Morgan family’s interests above my own, and this is how I will be re-interpreting that part of my oath. No family will miss me, yet when you have finished your youthful adventures, we shall return home. Is that clear?”

“I- well, alright! Let’s go!”

“You…have made arrangements, I take it?”

“There’s a transport in orbit. I contacted them months ago. They’re going to take us to the next spaceport in exchange for one of the ammo belts on the Galatine.”

“Shrewd. Douse your blade, and we shall go.”

#

“I can get the list down here, but it’s going to take some time.”

Kai swore under his breath while keeping his face passive. “How long?”

“Five minutes, at least.”

“No good.” Kai turned and stalked back to his aircar. “You,” he pointed to the nearest gendarme, “and you two as well, with me!”

No one argued. Kai’s temper was legendary for its cool calmness under pressure, and for his retaliation later against those who’d failed him when the dust had settled.

That’s when the barriers rose up.

“Oh, flup,” said Huston, pushing his glasses back up over the suddenly sweaty bridge of his nose.

“What’s happening?” Austin asked, looking around suddenly as thick, vertical slabs of metal and old-fashioned concrete began rising out of the ground in circular sections, surrounding the spire.

“MOVE!” roared Kai, “Move, everybody, NOW! Outside the blast range! Leave the equipment!”

“Come on, idiot!” Huston said, grabbing Austin by the shoulder and hauling him to his feet. “We get to tell pater the good and the bad news!”

“What?” Austin had taken a seat and was busily writing some stray bit of poetry that had struck his head when the announcement hit; it was more good luck than thoughtful consideration that had him still holding onto the datapad with a single hand as Houston dragged him the way he had countless times when they were younger. “What news?”

“The good news is that…” Huston gasped as they got to the safe, broad side of the blast shield, now eight feet high and locking into place with an ominous set of clanking noises, “Dallas is alive.”

“What’s the bad news?”

“He’s launching the Galatine.”

#

“Kai? What’s happening! I’m getting holo-alerts faster than my desk can keep up with them!”

“My Lord, the Galatine is preparing for launch! The barriers to protect bystanders from the heat of the blast jets have been automatically erected!”

“So- Dallas must be alive,” said Texas Morgan, quietly.”

“Yes, sir. However, this means that he has likely overpowered Mister Gareth in some way.”

“I know exactly how he overpowered him,” Texas mumbled under his breath. “Kai, I’m reading a transport that just parked in orbit. Can you spot it?”

The was a pause of the briefest second. “Yes, my Lord. I have it on my scanner. It’s of a size and class capable of sheltering and absconding with the Galatine should it complete its liftoff sequence. Shall I order it to either leave our system or be shot down?”

“I-” Texas stopped for a moment.

He looked at the family portrait; he, his wife, and his three sons, all looking at the camera, smiling.

He looked the closest at Dallas, whose mouth smiled, but his eyes appeared distant.

He looked out his window, at the sky whose horizon was just starting to color crimson with the promise of the rising sun.

There was a single star visible in the retreating night sky. “A hundred years of history…” he whispered.

“My Lord?” Kai’s voice brought him back to reality.

“Let him go,” Texas said.

“My Lord, did I hear you aright?”

“Repeating, Chief Inspector Kai: Let. Him. Go. Arresting him at this point puts too many of the lives of your gendarmes at risk to hold on to a…a sentiment.”

Another pause. “Yes, My Lord. I’ll order our men to stand down.”

“Very good. Keep me apprised of any new developments, Kai. Morgan out.”

Texas punched off the comm, sat down at his desk and waited, counting off seconds and mumbling phrases under his breath… “Life support…check. Long range missiles…check. Short range laser batteries…check. Shields…check. Systems go, AI support engaged…Fuel lines secured, and…” here he took a deep breath, “Launch…”

Outside, he saw the city he’d run for two decades light up with a new, white sun as a giant metal man slowly lifted from the ground and began its ascent to the heavens, seemingly pointed at the last, visible star in the sky.

Across town in a dingy restaurant, Secunda suddenly sat up in bed at the sound, saw the light outside and felt the slightest sense of loss before she turned over and went back to sleep.

Huston and Austin cowered behind the blast shield as heat enveloped them and made the cold, early morning chill warm as a summer sun.

Kai watched the rising star outside and smiled to himself. “Good choice, my Lord,” he said so softly no one heard him but himself. “Good choice, once again.”

Across town, a dozen miles and a hundred-fifty thousand lightyears from Kai, a small group of scuttlegangers looked up briefly from their drug-induced haze and watched the ascent with hazy, dulled eyes.

Closer to Lord Morgan, Viscount Moredead awoke from his slumber at the rumble and the light. Quickly apprised of the situation by his A.I. , he greedily watched on a half-dozen screens how the ascending mechanized-warrior [‘mech’ his A.I. sweetly corrected him for the umpteenth time] was playing out to the slowly awakening masses, and began plotting his next move.

Back in his office, Texas looked at the rise of his son with a straight face as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

“Annie,” he whispered.

“At your service, Lord Morgan,” a new voice chirped through his office.

“I want you to read me a poem, Annie.”

“Which one, my Lord?”

“The Galatine has just launched, Annie. Eight Seconds, by Charles Black.”

“Yes, my Lord:

There’s a hundred years of history

And a hundred before that

All gathered in the thinkin’

Going on beneath this hat.

The cold flame burns within him

‘Til his skin’s as cold as ice

And the dues he paid to get here

Are worth every sacrifice

All the miles spend sleepy drivin’

All the money down the drain,

All the ‘if I’s’ and ‘nearly’s,’

All the bandages and pain,

All the female tears left dryin’,

All the fever and the fight

Are just a small down payment

On the ride he makes tonight.

It’s guts and love and glory,

One mortal’s chance at fame.

His legacy is rodeo

And cowboy is his name.”

Morgan’s A.I. had just finished reading the last word when a voice beautiful, familiar and frightened spoke behind him.

“Texas?” it said, “Maritus? What’s going on?”

Texas turned to face his wife, still dressed in her nightgown and robe, where she had emerged from the sleeping chamber attached to

his office they’d used for years now.

“Liberty,” he said, using his wife’s full name for the first time in years, “Carissimus Meus, our son. Our Dallas. He has-”

He had to pause to keep the tears from flowing freer down his face.

"What's happened?" she said, her hands raising.

He raised his own to calm her, even as his own mouth opened and shut twice in his efforts to speak and stay controlled.

“He is alive, dear one. He is alive and unhurt. But he is-"

She moved to him as they embraced one another.

"We both knew this day would one day come, Tex," she said.

"Libby, he's ... growing up.”

"We wanted this, Tex."

"Not this way, Lib."

"I know."

-----

HERE ENDS CHAPTER ONE OF THE DALLAS MORGAN CHRONICLES, BOOK ONE: THIEF!