Manhunt on Tau Ceti 4 (Nick Walker, U.F. Marshal Book 6)

by John Bowers

  They had reached Hardwood.

  ***

  The train jolted to a stop at another station similar to where they had boarded, only this one was much larger, with a broad freight platform and four or five rail spurs next to the main line; two of the spurs held a string of freight cars. A dozen or more people waited on the passenger platform, tickets in hand, as the train jerked to a halt with a rush of escaping steam. Almost before Nick and Victoria could move, a man in a blue uniform hopped aboard and strode down the aisle.

  “You folks coming from the shuttleport?”

  Nick nodded. “Yes, sir. They told us we could pay our fare when we got here.”

  The man, apparently a railroad conductor, nodded curtly.

  “They told you right. Just the two of you?”

  “Yep.”

  “Any cargo?”

  “Just our luggage.”

  “You stopping here or going down the line?”

  “Stopping here.”

  “That’ll be ten taus.”

  Nick pulled out his wallet and produced some cash.

  “All I have are terros. Do you take those?”

  “Yes, sir. We take taus, terros, and sirios. Anything else and you’d need to find a bank to exchange them.”

  “What’s the exchange rate between taus and terros?”

  The conductor pulled a calculator from his pocket and keyed some figures, then peered at the screen.

  “Ten taus comes to twenty-three terros.”

  “Jesus Christ, your currency must be a lot more stable than ours.”

  “I hope so.” He grinned at Nick. “No offense.”

  The conductor took Nick’s money and gave him change, then wrote out two tickets clipped to a notebook, stamped them, and handed them over.

  “Your cancelled tickets. Thank you for choosing Hardwood Railroad.”

  Nick nodded and pulled down their luggage, then he and Victoria stepped off the train.

  “Like we had a choice,” he muttered when they were out of earshot.

  Victoria laughed.

  They crossed the wooden platform and entered the terminal. The interior smelled faintly of tobacco smoke and freshly-cut lumber. They passed through the lobby and out onto the street. The people they saw were casually dressed in a slightly distinctive style not too different from Nick’s western wear. Victoria, dressed in tight jeans with high-heeled boots, also blended in. Most of the men were wearing hats.

  “At least we won’t have to buy new outfits right away,” she observed.

  “Yeah, and I won’t stand out like a solar flare.”

  “Where to from here?”

  Nick spotted a man walking toward them and caught his attention.

  “Excuse me—we just got into town. Is there a hotel around here?”

  “Sure.” The man pointed. “Six blocks down. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You come in on the shuttle?”

  “Yes, we did.”

  “Welcome to TC 4. You planning to settle?”

  “Haven’t decided yet. Looks pretty good so far.”

  “We don’t get many settlers here. You folks married? What line of work are you in?”

  “We’re just here on vacation. Thanks for your help.”

  The man shoved his hand forward.

  “I’m William Connor.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Nick smiled to avoid appearing rude, and pushed Victoria across the sidewalk.

  “I’d be happy to show you around.”

  “Appreciate it. Looks like a beautiful town.”

  “Let me know if you decide to stay. I run the real estate office on Park Street.” He shoved a business card into Nick’s hand.

  “That’s fantastic. Thanks a million.”

  “I can help you find a job, if you need one. I have quite a few employment listings available.”

  “We’ll let you know.”

  Nick turned his back and guided Victoria across the street before William Connor could ask for their birth dates and blood type.

  “Jesus Christ!” he muttered when they reached the other side. “I hope everybody around here isn’t as friendly as that guy.”

  Victoria laughed.

  Pulling their luggage behind them, they strolled down the side street toward the hotel. The streets were narrow, but paved; the only vehicles they saw were surface cars.

  “I haven’t seen a single hovercar, have you?”

  Victoria shook her head. “My guess is they don’t use them. With all these wires above the street, it would be impossible to pilot one.”

  The hotel would have been a surprise if the whole town didn’t look so rustic. As it was, they found it quaint and charming. Built entirely of wood, it stood only three stories high; Nick reflected that the entire structure would probably fit inside the lobby of Lucaston’s Federation Building.

  “Wow. What century is this?” Victoria mused.

  “Probably 1850, pre-Federation. I think we just stepped out of a time machine.”

  Inside the lobby, the furnishings looked new and clean, everything in good repair. A seating area near the front window featured overstuffed chairs and hand-carved coffee tables; potted flowers dotted the area and a small, faux-marble fountain lent a relaxing charm to the center of the room.

  They towed their luggage to the front desk. A middle-aged woman in a flowery dress greeted them with a smile.

  “Hello, there! Are you checking in?”

  “Yes we are,” Nick said. “Nick and Victoria Jones.”

  “And how many nights?”

  “Put us down for a week, to start. We just got into town and we’re not sure where we’re going next, so that should give us time to look around.”

  The woman looked up with interest.

  “You’re new to Hardwood?”

  “Just got in a few minutes ago.”

  “Are you from another district?”

  “Uh—” He started to lie, then realized he didn’t know the geography yet and could easily get caught out. “—no, we…just came in from Alpha Centauri.”

  “Oh, you’re tourists! We don’t get many of those. Welcome to Tau Ceti 4.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Would you like a room with a bath?”

  “Yeah, definitely.”

  “I have a room with a double bed, a bathtub, and hot water.”

  “You don’t have anything with a shower?”

  She looked surprised. “Yes we do, but it’s ten taus more.”

  Nick puffed his cheeks.

  “I think we can manage that.”

  “All right, then. One double bed, a shower, and hot water. The room also comes with 3DV and a telephone.”

  Nick frowned. “Did you say 3DV?”

  “Yes. We… Oh, you’re probably used to holo-vision, aren’t you? Sorry, but our technology is a little older than yours.”

  Yeah, three hundred years, at least.

  “What about wireless? Do you have a global net here?”

  She tilted her head with an apologetic smile.

  “No, I’m sorry. We aren’t big enough for that. The entire population of TC 4 is only about a quarter million people.”

  Nick shrugged. “Oh, well. I’m sure it has a lot of features we aren’t used to at home. Can’t wait to do some exploring.”

  “Thank you for understanding. Will you need anything else?”

  “No, I guess that’s it. How much do we owe?”

  “The room is fifty-five taus a night. You pay the first night in advance and the rest when you check out.”

  “How much is that in terros?”

  “Oh, that’s right, you’re from off planet. Let me see…”

  She tapped her computer keys briefly. She looked up wearing her apologetic look again.

  “One twenty-six fifty.”

  Nick nodded. “Fair enough. Do you take bank cards?”

  “Of course we do.”

  Nick handed her his card and
she held it under a scanner. He was a bit surprised that they even had computers, but apparently some technologies were available—which led him to wonder if the rusticity of this place was based on necessity or design.

  She handed the card back, then printed out a contract. She selected a key from the wall behind her.

  “Here you go, Mr. Jones.”

  Nick put the card away, then nodded at the computer terminal.

  “If you don’t have global net here, how did you process my card? Don’t you have to connect to the bank of origin?”

  “Oh, no. It goes into our database, and before you leave, our bank will confirm your account manually. It isn’t ideal, but it works, and we find that most people are honest.”

  She smiled again.

  “Your room is on the third floor, with a view of the river. Enjoy your stay.”

  *

  The building had no elevator, but with only three floors, that wasn’t a major problem. Nick and Victoria pulled their luggage up the stairs and found the room without trouble. Nick unlocked it and stepped inside. The décor was as rustic as the lobby had been, but everything looked new and fresh.

  The bed looked heavenly.

  “You hungry?”

  Victoria shook her head.

  “Not really. Are you?”

  “I could eat, but I’m not losing weight yet.”

  “If we’re going to be here a week, I’d like to unpack first.”

  She heaved one of her bags onto the bed and popped it open. Nick watched idly as she began hanging outer garments in a closet and stowing everything else in a dresser drawer. She popped the second bag and set out her hair-care and cosmetic products.

  “Glad I’m not a woman,” he said.

  “Why? Because you don’t like men?”

  “Well…I guess that’s one reason, but not the one I had in mind. I just don’t have the patience to pack all the stuff that a woman has to take every time she leaves home.”

  Victoria laughed. “You should have seen the stuff that I decided to leave behind.”

  She finished arranging her products, then checked her face in the mirror and adjusted her hair. She turned to face him.

  “So now we’re married, are we?”

  Nick shrugged. ”No point in wasting money on two rooms when we both fit into one.”

  “And we’re going to sleep in the same bed?”

  “Not necessarily. That couch looks pretty comfortable.”

  Victoria looked at the couch and frowned.

  “It looks too short for you. You’ll wake up with a sore back.”

  “Who said anything about me? I thought that’s where you were going to sleep.”

  “Well, you thought wrong. I’m taking the bed, and you can join me if you’re brave enough—or not. But I am not sleeping on the couch.”

  She stowed her empty luggage on the closet floor. She looked at his bags.

  “You want me to unpack your stuff?”

  “Nope. I don’t want you touching my stuff.”

  “Suit yourself. Don’t ever say I didn’t offer.”

  She walked into the bathroom.

  “I’m going to get a shower. If you want to go eat after I’m done, then I’m up for it.”

  Victoria carried a change of clothing into the bathroom and closed the door. The door had no lock but it hardly mattered; she closed it tight and stripped down, turned on the hot water, and spent ten minutes under the spray as it washed away the grimy feeling and removed the smells associated with a cargo ship. It was the first decent shower she’d had since leaving Alpha Centauri.

  The room filled with steam. When she came out, the mirror was fogged and wiping it with her hand did little to clear the moisture. She looked for a ceiling exhaust fan but there was none, nor did the bathroom have a window. Instead, she cracked the door to let the steam dissipate, then mopped the mirror with a towel. She toweled herself and slipped on a pair of panties, then went to work on her face in the mirror.

  “Are you decent?”

  The bathroom door swung open and Nick stood there. Victoria’s head jerked around in surprise and she almost yelled at him, but was arrested by the look in his eyes. Like every other man she knew, he was staring at her breasts.

  “Yeah, I’m decent. Are you?”

  He blinked and made eye contact, his face turning red.

  “Sorry, I thought you were done.”

  “Almost.” She smiled. “Relax. It’s not like you’ve never seen them before.”

  He was silent a moment, his eyes scanning her body.

  “Looks like you’ve filled out a little,” he said.

  He turned and walked away.

  75th Floor, Federation Building – Alpha Centauri 2

  U.F. Marshal Robert Bridge was packing his briefcase to go home. It had been a long day and he was looking forward to a glass of scotch and a hot meal. His secretary had already left.

  His desk comm chimed. He stared at it a moment, debating whether to leave it until tomorrow. The automated system would take a message and he could deal with it then.

  It rang three times before he made up his mind. It certainly wasn’t an emergency, because not many people had his number, but it might be important. He punched the answer button.

  “Robert Bridge.”

  The screen flickered on and he sat down. Tracking numbers in the top corner indicated the call was coming from off-planet, possibly even another star system. The picture flashed and flickered several times, but he could see a grey, heavyset man wearing a western style hat.

  In spite of the crackle, the audio was clear.

  “I’m looking for the top law enforcement official on Alpha Centauri 2,” the caller said. “Would that be you?”

  “I’m one of them. I run the United Federation Marshal service on this planet.”

  “Then you’re the man I’m looking for.”

  “How can I help you?”

  “My name is Thomas. I’m a district sheriff on Tau Ceti 4. I wonder if you might identify someone for me.”

  Bridge felt his pulse quicken. What the hell has Walker done now?

  “I’ll do what I can. Who do you want identified?”

  “His starpass said his name is Nick Walker. He claims to be a U.F. Marshal and has the badge to prove it, but you know as well as I do that ID can be faked. Do you know anyone like that?”

  “Yes, I do. Is Walker in some kind of trouble?”

  “No-no, nothing like that. Not yet, anyway. I just want to know if he’s who he claims to be. He told me he’s hunting a fugitive, some kind of terrorist, and I have no problem with that as long as he keeps me in the loop. The main reason for my call is just to confirm his identity. Would you happen to have a holo of him, or maybe a digital?”

  Bridge nodded and pulled open a desk drawer. He rummaged for a moment, then pulled out a binder that contained flat photos of every U.F. Marshal on Alpha 2. He found the page with Nick’s picture on it and held it up so Thomas could see it.

  “The real Nick Walker is on this page. If you can pick him out, then he’s the real deal.”

  He saw Thomas lean closer to his comm and peer at the screen. After a moment he sat back.

  “Second row on the far right. Is that him?”

  Bridge glanced at the folder to make sure, then nodded.

  “That’s him. I’m glad we cleared that up. I’d hate to think someone waylaid him and stole his ID.”

  “So would I. That sort of thing is always possible. What can you tell me about him?”

  “About Walker? What would you like to know?”

  “What kind of man is he? Just the fact that he carries a badge doesn’t tell me a whole lot. Do I need to keep an eye on him?”

  “It’s your jurisdiction, Sheriff, so you can certainly do that. But if you’re worried about his integrity, then don’t. He’s the best man under my command.”

  “Glad to hear that. I haven’t been off TC 4 for nearly thirty years, but I still get news now and
then and your Marshal Service has a reputation for excellence. Your assurance goes a long way.”

  Bridge nodded his thanks, but didn’t comment.

  “What about the woman who’s with him?”

  “Blond, blue eyes, about thirty?”

  “That sounds like the one. Sexy as hell.”

  “Victoria Cross. She used to be a U.F. Attorney until a couple of years ago. She quit her job to defend Walker against an overzealous prosecutor.”

  “Defend him?” Thomas frowned. “What was the charge?”

  “No charges were ever filed. It was a witch hunt to dig up evidence against him. They finally pinned him with excessive force, but as I said, the charge was never filed.”

  “Was Walker guilty? Does he use excessive force?”

  Bridge sighed as he stared at the screen.

  “He gets a little carried away sometimes, especially when he’s trying to save someone. In the case in question, he was looking for a kidnapped woman who was being tortured, and he used the amount of force he deemed necessary. Whether or not it was excessive is pretty much up for interpretation. Personally, I don’t think he crossed the line, but others might disagree.”

  “I’m starting to get confused. You said this Cross woman defended him, yet no charges were ever filed?”

  “Right. It gets a little complicated and not a little embarrassing, from a professional point of view. The U.F. Attorney’s office had a hotdog assistant who decided Walker needed to be shut down. Without his boss’s authorization, he found a judge who was willing to conduct a hearing into the matter, to uncover evidence. Miss Cross was also an assistant U.F. Attorney and she was assigned to the case, but she saw it as prosecutorial misconduct and quit her job to defend Walker instead. The hearing lasted a couple of weeks and a couple of dozen witnesses testified. They only found one witness whose story came anywhere close to supporting any misconduct on Walker’s part, and based on that one case, permission was granted to file a single charge against him. But again, that charge was never filed, because the top U.F. Attorney didn’t believe it had merit.