The Sheriff of Yrnameer

by Michael Rubens

  Behind him Cole could hear the ruffle of some playing cards and low murmuring as the Greys continued their game of Degas Hold ’em. What was that saying again? “Gambling like a Grey,” or something like that.

  The Greys had filed into the room a minute or so after them, and gone to sit around a smallish table in the corner. Cole got a better look at the sidearm as they passed—a Firestick 17, for official use only. A soldier’s weapon. He wondered where it came from.

  “He’s got a gun!” Joshua whispered to him.

  “No kidding,” said Cole.

  “Don’t mind them,” said Charlie. “We try to be good neighbors,” he said, directing this to Nora. “We’ve worked very hard to make sure that the satellite is staffed with local hires.” He dropped the volume of his voice a bit, sharing a little secret. “Sometimes, we have to learn to accept the local customs and mores.”

  “That’s very conscientious of you,” said Nora, smiling at him.

  Charlie returned the smile, then licked his lips. It was, Cole thought, at least the tenth time he’d done that. It was starting to bother him. That and the logo and the Greys.

  It couldn’t be, he thought.

  He turned his head to check on the Greys. They seemed focused on their cards, but the one with the gun shifted slightly, adjusting the holster so that the weapon was more easily accessible. Cole turned back to Charlie.

  “So, what exactly have you been doing up here?” he asked him.

  “Getting ready to launch a new product. Can’t tell you what it is, but believe me—things are gonna get really interesting,” said Charlie.

  “I bet,” said Cole.

  He glanced over at Nora, meeting her gaze, flicked his gaze back to Charlie, and then back at her meaningfully. Her eyes narrowed. Cole repeated the look, widening his eyes for emphasis. Nora cocked her head slightly to one side. Cole casually scratched his own forehead on the location of Charlie’s logo. Nora shook her head subtly. Cole bit his own finger, glaring at her, trying to will her to understand. Now she was looking at him like he was crazy. Cole grimaced.

  “I certainly hope you can stay for a while,” said Charlie. “At least for a few days.”

  “Actually, we have to get going,” said Cole, before Nora could answer. “You think we could get that fuel from you?”

  “Cole,” said Nora reproachfully. “I have to apologize for my colleague’s behavior. But he’s right—we have several dozen children that we have to—”

  “Did you say children?” said Charlie eagerly, leaning forward.

  “Charlie,” interrupted Cole, “you wouldn’t have any idea how the markets did, would you?”

  Nora turned to Cole. “Cole, I’m not sure this is the time to talk about—why are you stepping on my foot?”

  Cole concentrated very hard on not screaming.

  “You follow the markets, Charlie?” he said.

  “Absolutely!” said Charlie.

  “Cole, you’re behaving very oddly,” said Nora.

  “I’m just asking a question!”

  “Why is he asking about the markets?” said Nora to Bacchi.

  “Just checking on the old portfolio,” said Cole. “Could you see how D-Max did?” said Cole.

  “Let me check on that for you,” said Charlie. He glanced off for a few moments. “D-Max was down three—”

  Cole’s water glass tumbled over and shattered as Cole stood abruptly and drew Nora’s gun, the water sheeting across the tabletop onto Charlie’s lap, the gun barrel six inches from his face.

  The room was very still; the others were rigid in surprise. Cole’s chair lay on the carpeted floor behind him where it had fallen. The Greys had stopped their game. Cole could hear Joshua taking short, shallow breaths.

  Charlie glanced down at his pants, and then back up to Cole. “I think,” he said, “I’m going to need to change.”

  “Oh, farg!” rasped Bacchi, staring at Charlie in shock. “You see what he did? The way he went online? It’s just like Qualtek 3!”

  “What’s happening?” whispered Joshua.

  “Charlie,” said Nora quietly, “tell me you don’t have a neural networking implant.”

  “They’re perfectly safe,” said Charlie.

  “Oh, God,” said Nora.

  “What’s a neural networking implant?” said Joshua.

  “It’s perfectly safe,” said Charlie again.

  “Oh, God,” repeated Nora. “That’s what you’re doing up here? That’s your new product? They’ve been banned for a decade!”

  “Why are they banned?” asked Joshua.

  “They’re per—”

  “Don’t say they’re perfectly safe!” said Nora. “Why didn’t you tell me!” she said angrily to Cole.

  “Why didn’t I—are you kidding me?”

  “You know, I could get you all one of the beta models, if you’re interested,” said Charlie. “Now Cole, if you would please—”

  “No, I won’t please,” said Cole. “Maybe you’re fine, maybe you’re not. I don’t care. Tell the Grey to slide his gun over—” and then Cole felt the barrel of the Firestick 17 pressed against the back of his skull.

  Crap. What was that other stupid saying? “As quiet as a Grey”?

  “Look out,” said Bacchi helpfully.

  The gun barrel felt very hard against his skin. If the Grey was breathing, Cole couldn’t hear it.

  “I think you should lower your weapon, Cole,” said Charlie.

  “Charlie,” said Nora, “obviously this has all been a big misunderstanding. We’re sorry to have bothered you.”

  “It’s no problem at all, Nora. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here.”

  “I’m not finding that especially reassuring.”

  “Cole,” said Charlie. “He’ll shoot you if I tell him to.”

  “He shoots me, this gun may still go off,” said Cole.

  Charlie appeared to think about it. The music continued, as soft and pleasant as before.

  “Excuse me,” said Bacchi, “but let me just take this opportunity to point out that I’m not even human, and probably don’t taste very good.”

  “Bacchi!” said Nora.

  “What? There’s no reason for all of us to get eaten.”

  “Eaten?” said Joshua. “Would someone please tell me what a neural network—”

  “It’s perfectly safe!” screamed Charlie. Cole squinted reflexively as a small gobbet of spittle exited Charlie’s mouth at a high velocity and flew directly into his right eye.

  “Charlie,” said Cole, wiping his face, “we’re leaving now.”

  “Oh, c’mon, Cole, don’t be a wet blanket! You have to at least stay for—hee hee—stay for—hee hee hee,” said Charlie, and Cole suddenly understood the essence of the term obscene titter.

  “Stay for—hee hee hee,” Charlie attempted again.

  Cole sighed wearily. “Dinner?” he said.

  “Exactly!” said Charlie, collapsing into giggles. Then he stopped abruptly. “Point the gun at the woman,” he said to the Grey.

  The Grey did as he was told.

  “Charlie?” said Nora.

  “Now, I’ll count to three.”

  “Cole, don’t drop your gun,” said Nora. “Don’t!”

  “One …”

  “Don’t drop it!” repeated Nora.

  “Two …”

  “Shoot her,” said Cole. “I don’t care.”

  Nora’s mouth dropped open.

  “Okay,” said Charlie. “Shoot her,” he said to the Grey.

  “Wait!” shouted Cole. The Grey paused.

  “Wait.”

  Cole dropped his gun.

  One of the Greys snatched the transmitter from Nora’s hand and punched her in the face when she tried to contact Philip.

  Now they were sitting on the floor in a corner of the room. The Greys were sitting at the table, continuing their game, the gun resting within easy reach.

  Joshua was trying to tend to Nora’
s bloody nose. She pushed him away. “We have to get to the ship. He’s going after the children!” she said.

  “Maybe he’ll leave them alone,” suggested Bacchi.

  “He was wearing a bib!” said Nora. “And I’m done talking to you.”

  “I had a plan!” protested Bacchi.

  As Charlie was leaving, Nora’s gun stuffed in his waistband, Bacchi had continued with his earlier strategy: “We really don’t make very good eating. Tough, stringy … Maybe I could go with you? Charlie? Charlie, come back!”

  “I’ve had it with this,” said Nora. She stood up. “Hey!” she said to the Greys. “Hey!”

  The Grey with the gun pointed it at her, still holding up his cards in the other hand.

  “Nora!” hissed Cole, pulling at her. “Sit down!”

  She batted his hand away. “Let go of me!”

  The Grey cocked the gun.

  “Whoawhoawhoa!” said Cole, standing, hands up, palms out to them. “It’s okay! Everything’s fine!”

  He turned to Nora, grabbing her arms, his mouth close to her ear. “Listen to me. Listen to me. That’s not the way. Not while they’re gambling. Believe me. Please. Please sit down.”

  “We have to get to the children. He can’t kill all of us.”

  “That’s a Firestick 17. He can kill all of us ten times over with one pull of the trigger. Please, sit down. Please, Nora.”

  Nora pulled away from him and glared at the Greys. But she sat down. Cole smiled and waved at them—no problem here!—and sat next to her.

  Then the wall behind the Greys came to life, the whole thing becoming a video monitor.

  “What’s happening?” said Nora.

  On the monitor a giant version of Charlie was in his stateroom, pulling on a new pair of khaki pants. He walked to a mirror and examined himself, turning to view his profile from both sides, talking to himself as he did so, but there was no audio. He pointed at the mirror and said something else, smiling, then gave himself the thumbs-up. The Greys ignored him, concentrating on their game.

  “Why is he showing us this?” said Nora. “Is this to torture us?”

  Charlie, satisfied with his appearance, walked to the door to exit his stateroom.

  “He’s leaving. He’s going to the ship,” said Joshua.

  Charlie pulled on the doorknob. The door didn’t open. He pulled again. It didn’t budge. He mouthed something angrily. More pulling. Nothing. Now he was kicking.

  “What is going on?” said Nora.

  “Look at that idiot. He’s locked himself in,” said Bacchi.

  “Or someone else did,” said Cole. “Maybe he’s not the one showing us the video.”

  One of the Greys had noticed Charlie’s distress and said something to the others. They watched as Charlie slammed a chair against the door repeatedly.

  “That’s a blastproof door,” said Bacchi. “He’s not getting out that way.”

  Charlie smashed at the door again. The chair broke. He began to scream, red-faced, veins bulging, the lack of sound making it no less disturbing.

  One of the Greys made a comment and the others laughed, and then they went back to their game.

  “Maybe now they’ll let us go,” said Nora. As she started to stand up the Grey lazily lifted the gun again. She sat. On the monitor, Charlie was trashing his room.

  “He’s going crazy!” said Joshua. “Who do you think locked him in?”

  It was Fred.

  He had been watching the whole thing from the moment they had arrived on the ship until now.

  He had managed to tap into the security monitoring system for the satellite, and had spent the past few days locked in his cabin, flicking between different camera views, watching the murderous anarchy.

  When he felt it was safe, he would dart to the nearest dining hall and carry back as much food and water as he could. Charlie had sealed off the section, leaving himself as the sole remaining human in the E wedge of the Blue ring. He seemed to have negotiated some sort of deal with the other Qx”-x-’–’ to be his bodyguards. Two of them turned out to have done stretches in prison. Not that that surprised Fred.

  Fred watched the ship dock, hoping that help had come at last. But when he saw the four humans who emerged, his hope dwindled.

  He followed their progress down the hall with Charlie, trailed by the five Qx”-x-’–’, and observed the interaction in the conference room.

  Fred was not fond of humans, and the latest developments on the Success!Sat didn’t do much to further endear them to him. But he couldn’t stomach the thought of Charlie hurting those children.

  There were malfunctioning doors all over the Success!Sat now, and one of them lay between Fred and the conference room. Getting there would require leaving the relative safety of the sealed-off E wedge, and Fred only had to glance at the carnage on the monitors to see that he didn’t want to do that. And even if he could get there, what use would that be? The other Qx”-x-’–’ would be happy to shoot him, especially because one of them owed him money. So Fred did what he could, securing Charlie’s door remotely and beaming his image into the conference room.

  Hopefully the humans would have some sort of plan.

  ˙ ˙ ˙

  “You have a plan?” said Nora for the fifth time to Cole.

  “Ssh!” he said. His eyes remained fixed on the Greys, watching them intently.

  “I don’t think he has a plan,” said Nora to no one in particular.

  “I need a few more minutes,” said Cole.

  “You know what I like doing?” Bacchi was saying to Joshua. “I like playing the zombies. Eating people, gip like that.”

  “I don’t get it,” Joshua said, watching Charlie as he hurled himself against the door again. “Why does the implant make people crazy?”

  “You’re human, you tell me,” said Bacchi. “Every time you guys try to do some high-tech extensive mod, you go nuts and try to eat one another. The life extension thing, that superstrength thing, the singing penis …”

  “Singing …?”

  “Yeah, you guys never learn.”

  “Qualtek 3 was the first time it ever happened,” said Nora. “Qualtek Corporation gave everyone on Qualtek 3 a free implant to demonstrate their great new product.”

  “What did they call it? Knowledge Planet?” said Bacchi.

  “Knowledge World,” mumbled Cole, his attention still riveted on the Greys.

  “Whatever. What a bunch of smug fargers. ‘Oh, I can get the Ultranet in my brain!’ Great. And then you know what happens? One morning half the population wakes up and eats the other half.”

  “Really?” said Joshua.

  “That’s essentially what happened, yes,” said Nora.

  “Yep, then a few days went by and it happens again, and then again, and so on and so forth, until they were all gone,” said Bacchi.

  “Why didn’t anyone stop it?” said Joshua, bewildered.

  “They tried,” said Nora.

  “Ratings were too good,” said Bacchi.

  “Ratings?” said Joshua.

  “I really thought Danyata was going to make it,” said Cole without shifting his gaze.

  “Oh man, me too!” said Bacchi. “And then the way his head came off like that?”

  “Enough!” said Nora.

  “Sorry,” said Bacchi. “But, Joshua, seriously, you gotta try the video game. It’s awesome. I mean, try it if we get out of here and you don’t get eaten.”

  Nora glanced at the wall monitor. Charlie was lying on the floor, occasionally kicking a leg petulantly. Cole seemed entirely focused on the card game. “Maybe Philip will come,” said Nora.

  For the first time, Cole glanced away from the Greys to look at Nora, then turned his attention back to the game.

  “So what’s your plan?” she said.

  Still looking at the Greys, Cole said, “Give me all your money.”

  “What?”

  “Your money. All of you. Give me everything you’ve got.�
�

  No one moved.

  “Now!”

  They began digging through their pockets. “You have everything I’ve got!” complained Bacchi. Cole pulled out a roll of bills that he’d discovered when he first stole Teg’s jacket.

  “What are you doing?” said Nora, depositing a messy handful of bills and coins on the table. “Are you going to bribe them?”

  “Bribe them? This isn’t enough to bribe them,” said Cole, gathering the money together. Then he slowly stood, holding the wad of money up in front of him. “Hey,” he said to the Greys, “you auntie-fargers ready to lose some money?”

  Fred checked and rechecked his calculations, hoping that the alert flashing on his monitor was a malfunction. After a third effort yielded the same results, he decided it wasn’t.

  That meant he couldn’t just hole up in his room and wait for help to arrive. He had to get out, now, and find a way off the satellite. He’d already tried each of the seven accessible escape pods; none of them was functioning. The only hope was the recently arrived Benedict 80, the one covered with all the advertising logos. Malfunctioning door or not, he had to find a way to free the humans and convince them to take him along with them.

  And he had to do it within eighty-seven minutes, because that’s when the satellite would hit the outer edge of the atmosphere and disintegrate.

  He glanced up at the monitor. Now why, he thought, is that human playing cards with the Qx”-x-’–’?

  “What is he doing?” whispered Nora between gritted teeth.

  “Losing, I think,” said Bacchi.

  It was true. In very short order Cole had lost all his money, then Teg’s jacket, then his right boot. His left boot was on the table now.

  “We don’t have time for this!” said Nora.

  “He said he’s got a plan,” said Bacchi.

  “Do you think he’s got a plan?”

  “No.”

  ˙ ˙ ˙

  Fred was running as fast as he could. He’d made an unpleasant discovery: the humans had now decided that he was of interest to them.

  There were about five of them in pursuit, clomping after him in their hard-soled dress shoes. Fortunately they were middle-manager types, years of expense-account meals taking a toll on their foot speed. He easily outpaced them, giving him enough time to reach the bulkhead door at the end of the corridor, punch in the keycode, and seal it behind him before they arrived. Two more doors to go.