by George Ellis
“Perfect. I like that.”
“And I like your face. It makes me think about what it would be like to have intercourse with you,” she said.
I paused just long enough for her to realize what she had just said. She saw the looks on everyone else’s faces in the cabin. Her cheeks turned pink. “I guess you are not as direct as we are. This will make for an awkward first meeting. Please hurry.”
“Because of the oxygen situation,” she added, before cutting the transmission.
We observed a moment of silence in the cabin for the conversation that had just happened. Then Edgar couldn’t take it anymore.
“She better have friends, is all I’m saying,” he said. “And you owe me a ton of credits, Avery.”
Everyone laughed, releasing the tension. Even Gary chuckled, then wondered if they might have some kind of AI he could “get with.”
I turned to Avery with a smile. “Well, you can take the wrecker a billion miles out of the verse, but he’s still just a wrecker,” I said.
“And a heartbreaker,” Avery replied. “So at least that part is new for you.”
I took the jab in stride and told Gary to navigate us toward our new friends.
We had some fixing to do.
Epilogue
There was no hiding from the midday sun. It loomed high above, scalding the man’s leathery, golden-brown neck. He reached up to remove his wide-brimmed hat, then wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve. When he was younger, he’d been able to spend all afternoon on a horse, roaming the dusty hills of the ranch and surveying his kingdom. These days, he was lucky to be able to make it an hour before he had to turn back and recharge inside with some air conditioning.
At 62, he was simply no match for the 105 degree heat, no matter how in shape he kept himself by working his ranch. It was August in the land previously known as Texas, and that meant furnace-like conditions. He pondered that for a moment, how territory so open and vast could feel so stifling. It reminded him of space that way.
He took a swig of water from his canteen and pushed on. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it. He had lost one of his cattle in the night, and he wasn’t heading back until he found it. The swirling buzzards overhead suggested he might not like what he found.
He crested a hill on his black stallion, Mischief, and looked down into the valley below. He saw the large steer on the downslope. At least what was left of it. Coyotes or perhaps a mountain lion must have attacked it in the night after it wandered off. Half of the large animal was eaten away, the flesh torn from the bone, and what remained would be food for the birds of prey overhead. They would pick it clean in a matter of hours. He’d seen their work before.
Looking down at the dead animal, it occurred to him that he felt no pity for the beast. He had long since given up the childish attachment to the animals on his ranch. Except for his horse and his dogs, they held no emotional sway over him. He would miss the land more than he would miss them. Land. Bedrock, as everybody liked to call it. For millions of years, land was all animals, and eventually humans, had known. They were bound to it. And the land provided all they needed. Hell, it could still provide everything they needed. It was a matter of want. Now, some folks will argue humans are natural explorers, but that was garbage. He knew it was more about the escape than the destination. It was no different than when a person tried to change his life by moving to a new city. It rarely worked.
Despite his own journeys into space, the man felt humanity had lost more than it gained when they started sending ships into that vast black ocean.
As he rode back to the main house, he saw a cloud of dirt rise up across the horizon. He had a visitor. On a motorcycle. The man smiled.
Ten minutes later, the man was leading his stallion to the shaded barn when the motorcycle rider revved through the gates and throttled down. Her long black hair flowed behind her from underneath the helmet.
When she reached the driveway to the house, she parked the bike and stepped off it, a rider in black. She considered the man for a moment, then removed her helmet.
“Jack Largent,” she said, her piercing eyes scanning the surrounding hills and valleys. “This is exactly the kind of ranch I expected to find you on.”
As if on cue, a pair of dogs barked from inside the house. They jumped against the windows, hoping to get a chance to defend their master. Largent motioned toward them. They were brown labs.
“You like dogs?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen one in person before.”
“The best thing about dogs is that they’re loyal. Some people want cute dogs or dogs that don’t shed or dogs that are good with the kids. Me, I want a loyal dog. I want a dog that knows who is in charge at all times.”
The woman nodded, catching his drift. It wasn’t subtle. Largent then smiled as if he had forgotten his manners.
“Look at me, rambling on. You’ve had a long ride and must be hot out here. Wearing all black, too. Looks good but hell for this climate. Come on inside and I’ll get you something cold to drink.”
The house was cool and the iced tea was even cooler. Largent watched as she drank nearly half the glass without a break. She enjoyed the sugary rush as she settled into the leather couch opposite him. She had a sharp jaw and the kind of figure he liked in a woman, Largent thought. And she was relaxing on the couch in a way that made him think she might be willing to be more than just his employee.
“I appreciate you coming all this way, Anna,” he said.
“What’s a few months out of my life?” she replied. “And please, call me Slay. Everyone else does.”
Largent nodded. “Okay, Slay.”
“I have to admit, as much as I like visiting Earth and seeing your ranch, I don’t know why I’m here,” Slay said. “Especially since I lost the drive and Mr. Boyd all at the same time.”
“True. You did lose them. Though from what I understand the circumstances were out of your control.”
Slay shrugged. She wasn’t sure if she agreed with him. She had replayed the scenario over and over in her head, and had come to the conclusion that she should have sacrificed the transport to ensure the Stang was destroyed before Boyd escaped with the drive.
Largent casually waved a hand. What was done was done.
“It’s been more than a decade since I’ve been off planet. I’m sure you knew that,” he said. “They’ve probably told you all about me. The reason I want you here, Anna…sorry, Slay, is that I’m thinking about going back out there. And I need a captain I can trust to run my ship.”
“If the pay is right, I’d be honored.”
“Honored by my credits? I like that,” Largent joked. “I’ve lived hard. I don’t regret it, but I also know it means I might not have many years left. And so I think it’s time for my final adventure. Mixed with a little revenge, just for the fun of it.”
“If you’re thinking the Burnett’s drive can help us find the Stang, I’m afraid it’s just not fast enough. It was a prototype. But you know that already.”
Again, Largent nodded. He leaned back in his chair and sipped the whiskey in his highball glass. He wondered how many bottles he should take when they shoved off in a few days.
“Right you are,” he said. “That son of a bitch has a fully working warp drive that he stole right out from under us. That device is very special indeed.”
Largent drained the rest of his whiskey, then exhaled through his teeth.
“It’s just not as unique as everybody thinks it is,” Largent said. “Not anymore, anyway.”
Well damn, Slay thought, the old man had a full-fledged warp drive of his own. This was gonna be fun. She too had some notions of revenge in mind.
* * *
About the Author
George Ellis prefers to write nonfiction, such as this particular story about his travels to the farthest reaches of the galaxy. When he’s not piloting a ship near Mars or running from the Federation, he can be found in Austin
, Texas, where he runs an advertising agency. In addition to books, he also writes screenplays and Internet memes.
You can connect with me on:
http://wreckersnovel.com
