Praise for
THE LAST STAR WARDEN:
Tales of ADVENTURE and MYSTERY
from Frontier Space
Volume I
“The Last Star Warden is exactly what it looks like: a rollicking collection of space western stories. McCuiston delivers big with plenty of imagination and thrills. He pays homage to a western classic formula while injecting enough delightful alien weirdness to justify the intergalactic setting. The Warden and Quantum are unashamedly heroic heroes doing what’s right in an unforgiving universe. Highly recommended.”
~ Bryce Beattie, Editor of StoryHack Action & Adventure and author of Swordcrossed Frostbite
“The Last Star Warden—a.k.a. “The Phantom Lawman” or “The Ghost of the Frontier”—finds himself displaced a hundred years into his future and facing off against numerous foes and dangers he never dreamed possible: a derelict space station haunted by vengeful ghosts, a behemoth corporate-built machine that feasts on entire stars, and a merciless prison ship among them. Armed only with his twin-Comet pistols and his former-enemy-turned-sidekick Quantum for backup, the Last Star Warden meets all with steely grace and nobility—and a rare and refreshing level of pure, pulpy fun. Jason McCuiston’s excellent book of adventures reads like a time warp back to boyhood Saturdays when classic Science Fiction played all afternoon on UHF. A fantastic experience!”
~ Gregory L. Norris, author of the Gerry Anderson’s Into Infinity novels by Anderson Entertainment
THE LAST STAR WARDEN:
Tales of ADVENTURE and MYSTERY
From Frontier Space
Written and Illustrated by
Jason J. McCuiston
Copyright ©2021 by Jason J. McCuiston
and Dark Owl Publishing, LLC
“Earth Day” ©2020, previously published in A Celebration of Storytelling, 2020.
Reprinted with permission from the author and publisher.
All other stories are original to this collection and are
copyright ©2021 to Jason J. McCuiston.
All rights reserved.
ISBN 978-1-951716-17-2
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without the author’s or publisher’s written consent, except for purposes of review.
Cover design by Melrose Dowdy
melrosedowdy.com
Visit us on our website at:
www.darkowlpublishing.com
Also From
Dark Owl Publishing
Anthologies
A Celebration of Storytelling
The anthological festival of tales.
Something Wicked This Way Rides
Where genre fiction meets the Wild West.
(coming July 1, 2021)
Collections
The Dark Walk Forward
A harrowing collection of frightful stories from John S. McFarland.
No Lesser Angels, No Greater Devils
Beautiful and haunting stories collected from Laura J. Campbell.
(coming May 1, 2021)
Novels
The Keeper of Tales
An epic fantasy adventure by Jonathon Mast.
Just About Anyone
High fantasy comedy from the twisted mind of Carl R. Jennings.
(Coming September 1, 2021)
Buy the books for Kindle and in paperback
www.darkowlpublishing/the-bookstore
For
Alex, Connor, and Aidan.
Table of Contents
The Sun Smasher
The Haunted Station
City of the Mad God
Escape From Hulk 13
Earth Day
Author’s Note
About the Author
The Sun Smasher
Adrift somewhere in the depths of Frontier Space, the Ranger VII was in a bad way, and the Last Star Warden knew it.
Riddled with blast holes and down to one of its three atomic engines, the sleek, silver patrol ship needed an overhaul, and fast. The two-man craft had been the pinnacle of human technological endeavors over a century ago, but now looked as if it had escaped from a museum. But for all that, the ship had just bested a flotilla of six modern pirate vessels, freeing up a sector of the vast Frontier for safe space travel.
The Ranger VII had accomplished this feat due in large part to the daring skill of its pilot.
At the moment, that pilot wasn’t much better off. Still wearing his blue and silver body-tight spacesuit, the bruised and battered man at the antiquated ship’s controls set course for an “Undoc” system. Like his ship, the Warden was a relic of another time, but due to the vagaries of quantum physics, multi-dimensional realities, and dark-matter wormholes, he now found himself roaming the wilds of the modern Frontier, carrying on a mission all but forgotten over the past hundred years.
“Your injuries are not severe,” Quantum said from the copilot seat. “But I would recommend you take some time to recover before engaging in further hostilities.”
The Warden spared the blue-skinned alien a square-jawed grin. Quantum was the sole member—at least in this galaxy—of the Mechtechan, an interdimensional race of conquest-oriented masterminds. Quantum’s people had tried to invade this reality over a century ago. The ensuing battle—now listed under “The Continuum War” in modern history files—had decimated the Star Wardens, forced the Mechtechan back into their own parallel dimension, and had thrust these two unlikely companions over a century into the future.
Or rather, the present day, the Warden continued to remind himself.
“You needn’t worry.” The Warden returned his visor-concealed eyes to the control panel. “Judging by the condition of the Ranger VII, I won’t have the opportunity to pick any more fights for quite some time.”
Quantum shook his elongated head, his two antennae wiggling. “If I know you, and I do, you will find a way if there is a fight to be had.”
The Warden smiled. Quantum knew him better than anyone else in the galaxy. “Well then, let’s find a place to rest and refit so we’re ready when that fight comes.”
The Ranger VII arced across the vast starry firmament, heading for the third brown planet orbiting a white star, a star designated Kleppin according to the newest databases. The absence of artificial satellites or installations on the three moons indicated the planet was neither militarized nor industrialized. Initial scans showed life signs in a populated settlement on a large continent of the northwestern hemisphere.
It was an undocumented world.
“Undocs” were the poor courageous folk who braved the perils of space travel, pirates, alien raiders, and unscrupulous corporate agents to colonize new worlds of the Frontier. This in defiance of the Unified Planetary Council’s modern Frontier Preservation Acts. Most of these intrepid colonists did this out of desperation rather than any sense of adventure or opportunity, though there were plenty of outlaws and renegades among them.
The Earth and the Civilized Worlds of the Star Warden’s time no longer existed, at least not as he had known them. A lot had changed in the past century.
The ship descended into a rocky clearing about two kilometers south of the large settlement. By the time the Ranger VII had finished it
s landing cycle and come to rest in an upright position, a crowd of locals had gathered outside the radius of the ship’s rocket wash. The Warden turned to Quantum with a smile. “Time to meet the neighbors.”
“Perhaps you should go alone. My presence might alarm them and make things unnecessarily… unpleasant.”
The Warden shook his head. “One thing I know about these folks: They don’t like any stranger more or less than any other. They know they’re not supposed to be here, and all they care about is whether or not we’re here to remind them of that. Since I don’t cotton to these new anti-settlement laws, I don’t intend to do so.”
Quantum sighed and followed the injured Warden to the ship’s lowered gangplank. He hung back at the top, however. As expected, the colonists were all armed with varmint guns, rock cutters, and antique service carbines. There were a couple hand blasters in the mix as well.
“Who are you and what do you want?” A dark-skinned woman in the front rank wore a heavy salvager’s spacesuit and held a blaster at her side. The armed crowd grumbled nervously behind her.
The Warden raised his gloved hands in supplication, careful to keep them well away from the twin Comet blaster pistols holstered on his own belt. He smiled at the crowd, though his eyes were masked by the dark visor attached to his suit’s skullcap. “My name doesn’t matter anymore.” His deep voice carried in the thin atmosphere. “I was once a lawman entrusted with keeping the Frontier safe. I was lost in time for a while, but now I’m back to continue that job.”
He turned to indicate the ship. “In fact, I’ve just come from a tussle with some pirates. As you can see, my ship didn’t make it through unscathed, so we’d just like to borrow some real estate, and maybe some parts if you can spare them, to affect repairs. That is, if it’s all the same to you.”
“We?” The woman asked.
The Warden turned and nodded. “My friend. His name is Quantum; at least, that’s what I call him.”
Quantum descended the plank, standing at least a head and a half taller than most Earthmen. The Mechtechan’s pale blue skin was less shocking than his elongated skull, nose-less face, pointed ears, and the two antennae swiveling at his crown. If not for the large, almost childlike eyes and small, upturned mouth, he might have appeared quite monstrous.
No one raised a weapon or gasped with fear. A lone voice came from the rear: “What kind is that? Never seen one o’ them before.”
Quantum sniffed, the thin nostrils between his antennae closing quickly. “I should imagine not. I am the last of my kind left in this—”
“He’s a stranger, just like me,” the Warden said. “Neither of us wants any trouble. We just want permission to fix our ship, and then we’ll be on our way.”
“I thought you’d be taller.” The woman holstered her blaster. “I’ve heard of you. The Last Star Warden. They say you’re a ghost what haunts the Frontier, punishing them what does evil in the badlands of space. You don’t look like no ghost to me. Just a man too dumb to run from a fight.” She said this last with a smile, which softened her face considerably.
The Warden returned the expression. “No argument there.”
“Well, I reckon it can’t do no harm to have an extra do-gooder around for a spell.” She turned to the crowd. “What say ye: Can they stay ’til their ship’s fixed?”
There was a low murmur, before a slow chorus of ayes rippled through the crowd. Soon after, the throng dispersed as the hard-working folk got back to the jobs that ensured their families’ continued survival.
The woman stepped forward. “My name’s Ara Halum. I guess I’m what you’d call the mouthpiece of this here settlement, mostly ’cause I don’t know when to keep mine shut. But if you’d like more than space rations for dinner, you two are welcome at our place. The big farm on the west side of the compound. Be there about eighteen hundred hours or so.” She held up a wrist chrono so the Warden could sync his to local time.
“We’d be obliged, ma’am.”
---
Karen Reeves, SuperCorp Senior Vice President in charge of Research and Development, stood on the bridge of the Star Sequencer 1, the prototype solar energy harvester that had been her pet project for the past decade. Her heart raced as the gigantic ship thrummed with immeasurable power. With a nod, she gave the command to activate the siphoning engines. Her dark eyes flicking to the forward view screen, she watched as the big yellow sun flared and pulsed, its near-infinite power being consumed by the ship. Her ship. Her masterpiece, the pinnacle of her corporate career.
Engineering reported in. “Siphoning engines holding at seventy-five percent intake. Containment cells successfully filling. All systems satisfactory.”
In a matter of minutes, the star faded in color. The inner planets froze and died as the sun weakened, its life pulled into the mechanical guts of the Star Sequencer 1, stored to later be sold in the Civilized Worlds at a considerable profit. There were countless stars in the Frontier, countless opportunities for more and more profits.
“Ms. Reeves,” the helmsman said. “We’re picking up a ship. It appears to be a short-range Undoc vessel from the fourth planet. It is transmitting a distress signal and making for the system’s Einstein-Rosen bridge.”
“Jam its coms and send a detachment to capture it.” Karen smiled, still aglow in the first successful test of her passion project. “We can’t have anyone or anything hindering our maiden voyage. This is still a top secret operation, after all.”
---
The Warden and Quantum spent the next few hours assessing the damage and running diagnostics. Most of the damage was superficial, but one of the Ranger VII’s engines had a crack in the fusion chamber that needed sealing. Fortunately, Quantum was immune to radiation and could affect the repairs, but it would take time.
“Well, that’s the dinner bell.” The Warden donned a clean spacesuit. “Most of the hull plates have been patched or replaced and the batteries are recharging. Time to accept Miss Halum’s hospitality.”
Quantum’s face pinched into his version of a frown. “I do not like the idea of leaving the ship alone and unguarded. Those people could come back looking for salvage, and with that reactor damaged, they could be exposed to high doses of radiation.”
The Warden shrugged, lowering his visor over his eyes. “Suit yourself. I’ll bring you something back.”
As the Warden descended the gangplank, Quantum called after him. “Preferably a few high-grade ingots of fusion-resistant PermaSteel.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
The Warden looked up at the starry night sky as he hiked the rugged distance to the settlement. His thoughts wandered back to the now-forgotten war that had occurred only a few months ago for him and Quantum, the war that had sent them spiraling through space and time. The war that had cut them off—possibly forever—from their own respective homes and people. Although they had met as enemies, he and the blue alien were now the best of friends.
“Strange how the saving of a life when you’re meant to do the opposite can make all the difference in the world,” the Warden said to himself.
The Undoc settlement sprawled in an orderly array of structures cobbled together from the original colony ship and local materials. Barns, cattle pens, corrals, and chicken coops huddled beside craft shops, huts, houses, and other domiciles. A primitive existence by the standards of the modern space age, but the Warden could not deny the charm of the communal life, where neighbors were as close as family.
Of course, he was a stranger and was regarded as such. The farmers and craftsmen paused in their labors as he entered the ring of buildings and made his way to the Halum residence. Women pulled their small children closer, while the older kids got as close as they dared to steal a glance at the “Last Star Warden.” Though no one returned the gesture, he smiled and nodded politely.
A rusty cybernetic shepherd trotted up and sniffed his hand. The Warden knelt and petted the mechanical canine until its tail wagged with a creaking no
ise.
“You the Warden, mister?”
He looked up to see a short, thin, green-skinned boy with solid yellow eyes and brown hair frowning at him. The boy’s younger sister stood behind him, a smile on her green face. A face that reminded him of someone he had just met.
“I am,” the Warden said as he stood. “And I’m guessing you’d be the Halum children. Your mother invited me to dinner.”
The boy stuck out his right hand. “I’m Jes, and this is my sister, Wan. That’s Tycho,” he indicated the robotic dog. “Ma sent us to fetch you.”
The Warden shook the lad’s hand. “Well met, Jes Halum.” He touched his visor as a greeting to the girl. “Well met, Wan Halum. I thank you for your hospitality.”
The girl’s yellow eyes widened. “Where’s the blue man?”
The Warden laughed. “Quantum? He’s decided to take a nap at the ship. Perhaps if your parents say it is all right, you can come out and I’ll introduce you tomorrow.”
This softened Jes Halum’s demeanor. With a smile, he said, “Come along, Mister Warden. Ma’s making fried chicken, cornbread, and greens. Don’t want ’em getting cold.”
The Warden’s stomach growled at the thought of eating something that hadn’t spent at least a decade in a freeze-dried foil packet. He hadn’t had fried chicken since he left Earth for his last mission, some months ago by his internal clock. Even the possibilities of cold leftovers sounded like a feast at the moment. “Please lead the way, young Master Halum.”
He was not disappointed in the culinary skills of Mrs. Halum, nor in her family’s gracious hospitality.
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