Space Cowboy Survival Guide

by Long, Heather

  “None. I plan to take on supplies—general food stuffs, alcohol, and some souvenirs.” Souvenirs of his stop sounded much better than samples.

  The officer contemplated something on his screen, then returned the ID card to him. “No animals or plant life can be removed from New Genesis under the Agricultural Exports Limitations imposed by the High Council. Food products are available on a limited basis, provided the items are for consumption and not resale.”

  “Good to know.” He wasn’t a merchant.

  The officer stared at him a heartbeat longer than necessary. “What is the nature of your business, Mr. Sullivan?”

  “Captain.” After securing his ID in an RFID shielded wallet, he slid it back into the inside of his duster.

  Eyes narrowed, the officer didn’t look away. “What is the nature of your business on New Genesis?”

  “Currently, it’s getting repairs on the ship. Secondarily, it’s finding a nice steak and a cold brew. Got any good recommendations?” Playing hard to get with the information came second nature to him. It wasn’t his business to correct the officer if he didn’t ask direct questions. As for the more pointed inquiries, he didn’t need to volunteer more than his basic answer.

  The man grunted, then jerked a thumb in the direction of the town center. “O’DiMaggio’s, Irish-Italian Pub, menu is full of Old Earth delicacies. Planet time is 1800 hours, the suns do not set this time of year. Expect twilight from 2300 to 0600.”

  A pub. Shaw clapped his hands, then rubbed his palms together in anticipation. “Thank y’all.”

  “You’ll need to peace bond your weapons, as well.” The officer didn’t step out of his way. “No weapons are allowed within the precincts of occupied towns without peace bonding.”

  Leaving his gun aboard wasn’t an option, and a peace bond could be gotten around given enough time. Of course, time could also be a factor. Fortunately, Shaw was pretty damn good with his fists. “Wouldn’t want to violate the law.”

  The officer didn’t respond to the assertion, instead he removed a device from his pocket, then clamped it to the still holstered pistol. A hint of vibration against his leg told Shaw the item had been activated.

  “Enjoy your stay.” The officer waved him on, his attention already switching to a lower landing deck where a cargo ship navigated a landing.

  With a tip of his hat, Shaw headed in the suggested direction. The air tasted fresh, salted with the hints of smoke from fossil fuel, exhaust from ships coming and going, and a dozen other unidentifiable flavors of city life. After weeks aboard the Gilly, breathing only recycled oxygen, it was like heaven for his senses to be planet side.

  New Genesis, the only inhabitable planet located in a binary star system. The planet itself, according to the book on it, had been a paradise long before the terra form crews arrived. Settled during the Corbin Space Rush, New Genesis had begun leagues ahead of several colony worlds by virtue of how the colonists settled.

  A sign welcomed him at the gateway from the port platform to the city itself, the history of New Genesis displayed for all to see.

  When we, the settlers, arrived aboard the Genesis II Colony Ship, a vote was taken before any passenger set foot to earth. In that moment, we scientists, researchers, farmers, builders, engineers, politicians, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, sons and daughters did declare that we were one people. Thus committed, we agreed to lottery all assignments only based upon our skills, all decisions had to be voted upon, and all had a voice—even our children. Before our first building had been completed, we recognized our mutual success predicated on the value of the individuals. Welcome to New Genesis, where the voices of all, the success of all, benefit all.

  Shaw thought he might have thrown up in his mouth. The sappy sentiment seemed to fit the glossy, shiny happy people filling the streets and sailing overhead in their flying vehicles. Everything about the city seemed to bear fruit to the promise of a future utopia.

  Which meant the rot, which every society possessed, lay hidden beneath the glitzy promise. Composing mental notes, he followed the curb signs to the trenched walkway allowing him to pass unscathed by arriving and departing vehicles. Despite the planetary time of early evening, the city showed no signs of slowing its pace.

  He’d gone with his mother to Manhattan for a history and arts laden visit during his years at the secondary school. This place reminded him of the over-crowded urban atmosphere without the hostility. New Genesis—did the town have a name? He checked his datalink and typed in the query. Zed answered almost immediately, reporting the capital of New Genesis had been dubbed New Hope.

  New Hope, on the planet of New Genesis. Hopefully they hadn’t gone crazy and come up with a recipe for new beer. Touching a hand to his hat as he passed a woman hustling two children along, he shifted his step to give way to her and her squabbling burdens. She cast him a weary, if amused, smile then continued on her way. From the sounds of it, they were going to be late for their flight.

  Well, at least the atmosphere on New Genesis wasn’t so perfect that people still didn’t want to leave it. Utopia left a bad taste in his mouth. At the corner, he glanced toward the port. Shuttles arrived and departed in regular formation as though punching a schedule. An airlifted train hurtled through the ships then into the city.

  New Genesis had three such thriving cities on its planet, one on each of the main continents. A thousand different islands also played home to smaller communities, including those seeking more isolation from the universe. The open welcome of the planet assured no judgment for an individual’s origins.

  Shaw would bet they didn’t allow Ivy Leaguers in, no matter whether they completed their time served or not. Not too many civilizations wanted to embrace criminals, reformed or not. Still, everywhere he looked he found people nodding or smiling to each other if their gazes collided. No one pushed or shoved as the crowds grew denser. Many of the men, like himself, automatically moved to the outside curb so that the women and children weren’t exposed. If there wasn’t enough room for someone, they queued up and waited patiently to venture on their way whether it was entering a store or crossing a street.

  Every block had a dozen different shops, ranging from basic necessities to high-end quality imports. Restaurants and bars were equally popular and available. Above, the skyscrapers he passed boasted everything from corporate offices to retail establishments to apartments.

  A body would have to make an awful lot of money to afford something in a place like this. So much perfection everywhere made his skin itch. Adjusting the setting on the datalink to proceed with local scans, he continued his strolling pace. Six blocks from the port, on the edge of a city park, he found the pub the security officer mentioned.

  The oak wood exterior and stained glass seemed at odds with the modern perfection, a discordant note in a perfect symphony. Shaw felt at home already. Inside, the dim atmosphere, bawdy music, and the rich, inviting stink of alcohol and greasy food did more to settle his soul than the walk had.

  An hour later, he leaned back in his chair, booted feet propped on the table one ankle crossed over the other and sighed. The steak dinner had filled his belly, and the iced beer loosened the muscles in his spine and the entertainment boxes were all filled with the details of local planetary sports.

  Life was perfect.

  Of course, that was the moment she took a seat opposite him. Shaw wanted to sigh. Gorgeous women came in two types—the seductive and the needy. He wasn’t interested in either. Though, she definitely upgraded the atmosphere in the place.

  “You’re a ship’s captain, aren’t you?” Sweet, breathy voice with just a hint of huskiness to it. Definitely the right pitch to get a man interested.

  “Could be,” he hedged, more interested in his beer and the game on the set than in whatever she was selling.

  “Please say you are. I need your help.” She leaned forward, hands clasped, and radiated an earnestness which invaded every molecule of his space. “I’m despe
rate, and I can pay.”

  Sounded like way too much work. “You got the wrong man, sweetheart. I’m just trying to enjoy my beer.” Would she take the hint?

  “You have no idea how badly I need your assistance, sir.” She actually put a hand on his booted ankle. The contact forced him to look from the entertainment set into her deep green eyes. So vivid was their color, they seemed to shimmer even in the dim lighting. “Please. You’re my only hope.”

  “No, ma’am. That I most certainly am not.” He tugged his feet from her grasp and swung them to floor. After draining his beer, he set the empty bottle on the table and stood. With a tip of his hat, he nodded to her. “Ma’am.”

  Not waiting for any response, he abandoned his little piece of nirvana. He made it as far as the door before she grasped his arm. “Please sir. If they catch me, they’re going to kill me.”

  Son of a bitch. He’d almost made it.

  Hat in hand, he studied the woman. Somewhere around 5’10, she only barely had to tilt her chin to meet his gaze. A wild mass of deep black hair fell to her waist. She wore a white dress over a black bodysuit. The combination struck a discordant note with him. He didn’t know much—okay he didn’t know anything about women’s fashions—but her outfit didn’t match what the others around them wore. The heavier fabrics seemed at odd with the balmy temperature, as did the scrollwork embroidered along the hem and edges.

  Glancing at the table he’d just abandoned, Shaw debated how much he needed to hear her sob story against how much she needed to tell it. “One drink,” he said, emphasizing the one by holding up his index finger. “You have one drink to have your say.”

  Gratitude seemed to flood her eyes with a sheen of tears, but he avoided her step toward him. The last thing he wanted was a hug. He motioned her back to the table, and raised his hat toward the server. The young barmaid hustled over to the table, and glanced from him to the lady, then back.

  “Another beer, sir?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He pulled out his ID card so she could run it for credits. “And whatever the lady wants.”

  The woman clasped her hands together, not quite twisting her fingers or maybe in an effort to keep from flexing them. White knuckles betrayed her anxiety. “Wine, please.”

  “Red? White?”

  “Whatever you have…” she began then frowned. “Actually, do you have an Agiorgitiko?”

  Eyebrows raised, the barmaid gave her a curious look. “We do, but we cannot sell it by the glass.”

  His earnest companion’s crestfallen expression annoyed him. “Then bring her a bottle, sweetcheeks. Put it on my card.”

  “Oh, I can’t let you do that,” the woman said, but her protest came too late. The barmaid gave him a sunny grin before hurrying to her next table and their order.

  “You don’t let me do anything, ma’am.” They should clear her misunderstanding immediately. “You wanted to talk. I said one drink. That was the drink you wanted. Bottle or not, you get one glass.”

  Her rapid blink amused him. Still white knuckling her clenched hands, she shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Interesting. You couldn’t shut the hell up and chased me to the door, worried about some mysterious they coming to kill you, and a bottle of wine you haven’t even drunk yet wipes your memory?”

  Irritation replaced indecision and the woman across from him straightened in her seat. A glare kindled in her gaze, and her pretty little mouth flattened into a thin line. “That was rude and uncalled for.”

  The barmaid returned with their drinks, setting the frosty beer bottle in front of him while she placed a glass filled with a dark wine before his companion. She set the bottle in a chilled bucket next to the table. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “No, thank you.” The woman answered before he could, but he nodded his agreement. The barmaid winked at him, and added a little something to the sway of her hips as she walked away. Shaw obediently followed her with his gaze, then straightened to meet his guest’s disgusted look.

  “Hey, I was just appreciating the view. Judge someone else.” Taking a long pull of his beer, he gave her a moment to collect herself. When she didn’t even reach for her wine, Shaw gave his datalink a pointed glance. “I said one drink sweetheart, and I didn’t mean whether you finished yours or not.”

  “I somehow thought you’d be less hateful.” Didn’t she know how to win friends and influence people?

  “Captain Shaw Sullivan,” he said, extending his hand across the table. “Hateful with a generous helping of spite.”

  Another slow blink greeted his statement, but she unclenched her locked together fingers to grip his hand. “Tika Anderson. And why would you ever introduce yourself as someone who was hateful with a generous helping of spite?” Bewilderment flooded her eyes.

  Releasing his grip on her, he shrugged. “I always figure if you want to call someone names, you should know theirs. Now what did you need? You obviously came here looking for me.” God only knew why. Since he and God weren’t on speaking terms, he didn’t plan to ask.

  “I saw you arrive at the port, and I followed you to the bar.” She hesitated, then glanced around the pub as though expecting someone to leap out at her any minute. “I know you’re only passing through—it was what you told the barmaid when she invited you back to her place later. I know you don’t plan on staying in one of the hotels, because you said you were going back to your ship. I also know you need repairs, which you ordered before you left the port.”

  Crafty little shit, wasn’t she? Shaw nudged his hat to the side and leaned forward to study his guest more carefully. “Admitting to stalking doesn’t usually bode well for future relations.”

  “I wanted to be honest,” she stated, determination seemingly stiffening her spine. Not flinching from his gaze, she lifted her wine glass and lifted it as though toasting. “I believe negotiations are best completed when both parties have a mutual understanding of the terms.”

  Shaw didn’t smile, although her comment amused him. “I believe you only have about a half of my bottle left to make your point, so you should get a move on.” He took another swallow of the beer.

  “Pushy.” The half-pouty, half-scowled response continued to entertain him. “Fine. I need to book passage on your ship.”

  “I’m not a passenger liner.”

  “That’s fine,” she said, waving off his response. “I’d actually prefer the cargo ship. Fewer people to see me.” Leaning forward, she lowered her voice—whether for dramatic effect or because she was genuinely worried about being overhead, he didn’t know. “I don’t have a lot of time. I know they’ve tracked me here. I’ve been avoiding them all day.”

  “Who are they? What could a woman, with your refined manners and expensive clothing, have done to earn a manhunt?” At her startled blink, he let the corners of his lips tilt upward in a smile. “I’m absolutely serious. You don’t look criminal.”

  “That would depend on how you define criminal, Captain. I refused to marry the man my parents selected for me.”

  “Ah…scandal. Yeah, that’s a bitch.” He took another long swallow of the cold beer. He had maybe two drinks left. “Also, I don’t get involved in domestic matters.” At least it gave him an out.

  “This isn’t just a domestic matter. My refusal could lead to civil war, a loss of income, status…it’s a big deal to my family.”

  “And not one to you. Well, kudos for standing up for yourself, sweetheart. But that still doesn’t tell me why they are hunting you.” Or why she wanted to involve him in this particular drama. He’d never been a big fan of the epic tearjerkers.

  “Does it matter? I’m in very real, physical danger. I am seeking to purchase a spot on your crew or at least a place in your hold. I won’t take up much room, and I can bring my own supplies.” Desperate with a hint of crazy didn’t do much for pleading her case as far as he was concerned.

  “Depending on how big a hard on they have for catching you, i
t could interfere with my business.” Not that he planned on sharing what he had to do. “If I took on passengers. Which I don’t. So…” He raised his beer bottle, then took the last drink before setting the bottle on the table. She’d barely touched her wine, much less the rest of the bottle.

  “How can you say no? Without a care for how it affects anyone else?” Her bafflement grew into anger.

  “Hang on to that pissed off feeling. It will get you further than your boo-hoo poor woe is me tale. You didn’t want to marry some handpicked candidate, fine. You stood up for yourself, and you bolted. Running is now the consequence of your action.” Rising, he reclaimed his hat. “I respect the fuck out of you standing up for your rights, ma’am. That doesn’t make it my problem. Enjoy your wine.”

  Walking away, he left her to chew on that. He could appreciate not wanting to sell her body or soul for what her family needed. It didn’t matter that he’d done the opposite to save the land and ranch his family built. He’d sold himself into service to a government he didn’t really respect or believe in all in a desperate attempt to save a legacy he wouldn’t see again for years.

  Outside the pub, he considered his options. The beers and the steak had done wonders for his mood, even if Miss Anderson left him feeling a bit like a lout. Considering the sensation for a moment, he shook it off. He had a job to do, a job which involved cataloguing worlds, scanning their populations, their status, military support, and civilization development. The last thing he needed was to add a passenger and all her physical, not to mention emotional, baggage to his journey.

  Rubbing his neck, he headed across the street. According to the barmaid he’d asked earlier, the city had several hotels along the stretch. The twin suns were on the horizon, blocked by some of the buildings, leaving deep swathes of shadow. Yet the twilight effect still provided plenty of visibility.

  On the surface, he couldn’t fault the layout of the city. They’d built it on a grid pattern. The streets either ran north to south or east to west. It made locating the first hotel simple enough. Average wealth for city dwellers had to rank into the six digits at minimum if their economy ran anything like Earth Prime.