"Sheriff, there's been some sort of strange goings-on out by Chronos. All sorts of traffic through there, but not much mining."
"Ottoman's selling the mining rights," Legs said without looking up from her display. "Hasn't found a buyer yet."
"Oh. I might look into that."
A few minutes later, a slim shadow fell across her desk. "When am I getting my stolen hopper back?"
"It's in the impound, Mr. Tulver. Pay Mr. Nutil's storage fees, and it's yours again."
"That's legal robbery, that is."
"I have no control over that, Mr. Tulver. Take it up with Mr. Nutil."
A little later, Langdon Kade was back. He dropped his recorder pad on the desk beside Legs. "There's been a lot of talk about those pirates operating in the fringes of the Kuiper Belt. Do you have any leads? Any idea where they might be hiding out? Any plans to catch them?"
"Oh, sure, Langdon, I'm going to tell you where I think they're at, and what they're going to do next, and how I plan to catch them, so you can print it all up, and they can know all about it. Get out of my office."
Langdon scowled at her, and picked up his recorder. "Those pirates are news. And people want to know what you're going to do about them, seeing as how so far you've just let them have free range."
Legs scowled back at him. "I have leads and ideas and plans. Those raiders haven't been seen in over a month. I don't think everyone is all that concerned, right this minute. Now get."
He left.
A large shadow fell across her desk. She looked up to see Ramon Minerva standing in her doorway. A big man, Ramon generally looked the part of the wealthy businessman, head of a large extended family, and powerful mover-and-shaker. Legs figured the chain hanging around his neck and across his broad chest, made of plastic packing chunks sloppily painted to look like gold nuggets, had probably been manufactured and put around his neck by one of his doting toddler grandchildren in celebration of the biannual family gathering.
"Sheriff Lanier." He nodded to her as he sat in the chair opposite her desk. "I wanted to let you know as quickly as possible that Corin has been accepted at the University of North Dakota on Earth. We were hoping, I know it's sudden and difficult for you, but we were hoping we could send him off with the Ocher Dust when it leaves."
"Congratulations!" Legs smiled at the first good news she'd had all day. "I understand perfectly, and I'll start looking for a new deputy right away."
Ramon Minerva sighed in relief. "Thanks, Letitia. You've been a good influence on my boy, and I do appreciate all you've done with him."
"He's been an interesting deputy," Legs said honestly. It was just like Corin to make his father come put in his notice for him.
They shook hands, and Ramon rose to leave. "By the way, Sheriff, you have our support in the election. I just wanted you to know that."
"Thanks, Mr. Minerva. That's good to know."
Legs headed for the Purgatory Prattler's office. As she crossed the moving sidewalk, she overheard a couple of young miners talking.
"You got yourself a room yet? The saloons are filling up."
"Naw. I'll just get drunk, and let the sheriff put me up in one of the cells, like I always do."
Nodding to the pair, Legs said, "Morning, gents."
"Morning, Sheriff."
Neither looked the least bit worried that she might have overheard them.
Langdon wasn't in, of course. When she had something for him he was never around. She put in her order for a column advertisement at the corner of Main Street and Tin Alley through the automated messenger and left. Langdon could figure it out for himself.
People accosted her with demands for information, or with something they thought was sheriff's business, every few feet as she made her way down the street toward the bank. She broke up an impending fight in front of the Struck It Rich, and made her way into the sepulchral quiet and cool openness of the bank lobby. Five clerks stood behind a long curving counter, quickly dispatching the orderly queue of people patiently waiting. Kimble Phelps' simple glassed-in office was empty, because he'd joined his clerks behind the counter. Everyone was busy during Hell Week.
Kimble Phelps had seen her come in, and walked out from behind the counter after he finished with his customer. "Dare I hope this is a social call?"
"Sorry, Kimble. I'm having trouble with my accounting program. It can't seem to give me two numbers straight in a row, columns don't total up, and nothing balances."
His mouth thinned. "Perhaps I should come down to your office, and have a look at it."
"I'd appreciate it."
"Maybe afterwards we could do lunch."
"Let's see how it goes."
At the sheriff's office Kimble sat in her chair, fiddling with her computer, while she loitered nearby, sweeping out the cells at the back.
"Well, I think I've found the problem. It seems you've got some kind of old-fashioned virus here on your machine. It seems to be aimed only at your accounting program. Let me erase it and get a proper download from the bank, and you'll be all set."
Jack Dixon walked in the open office door, hands in fists at his sides, eyebrows low over his eyes. "You been down to the column today?"
"No," Legs said. "Did Langdon mess up the help-wanted ad?"
"I don't know about that, but I think you'd better get down there."
Usually Jack was a calm, almost serene person. Seeing him angry and in full bulldog mode alarmed Legs. She looked at Kimble. "You need me here?"
"I'll take care of it." He waved at her. "Lock up when I'm done?"
"Don't bother."
She followed Jack to the moving sidewalk. With too many people riding on it to walk today, they had to content themselves with the gentle gliding speed. Jack stood, hands still in fists, arms crossed on his chest, looking like he wanted to punch someone.
When the advertising column came in view she could understand why.
"Purgatory Sheriff Hoping Raiders Gone for Good," the Prattler's announcement plastered to the column proclaimed.
Legs pressed the back of her watch communicator to the announcement's reader eye, and a curl of paper spewed out. She could feel one side of her mouth twitching up in a snarl as she read the article. A few sentences especially bothered her.
"Not having bestirred herself to protect the good citizenry of Purgatory from the depredations of these unknown bandits, our fine Sheriff Lanier hopes that since they haven't attacked in over a month that they have left local space for good" and "When asked about any projected plans to track down these desperadoes, Sheriff Lanier became very uncooperative, leaving this reporter to wonder if she has given it even a moment's thought" and "Local citizens' concern for their safety and the safety of their businesses doesn't seem to in any way motivate Sheriff Lanier."
"That son-of-a-bitch." Legs crumpled the paper in her hands. "It'd feel so good to put my hands around his neck and squeeze."
"Allow me," Jack drawled.
She shook her head. "I'd hate to have to jail a good friend like you." She searched the column for any sign of her ad for a deputy, but didn't find it. Reaching over she ripped the announcement off the column. "I'm going to go deal with Langdon. Do me a favor, Jack, spread the word that I'm looking for a new deputy to replace Corin. He's heading off to school."
Jack sighed and nodded, wandering off down the street, mingling with the crowd swirling around the moving sidewalk, and spreading the word. Legs headed for the Prattler's office directly across from the sheriff's.
Luckily Langdon was in. She slammed the announcement down on the counter. "What the hell do you mean by putting this up?"
"Freedom of the press." Langdon shrank back, away from the counter, shaking and nervous. "I have a duty to let the public know what is going on. They have a legitimate concern about the bandits. You can't deny that."
"Disseminating information is all well and good, but if I catch you encouraging crime or abetting criminals I'll see you rot in one of my cells. I
s that clear!" Legs threw the announcement at him. "Now you clean this up, so that it's just information, and not a challenge to the bandits to attack now. Understood?"
Trembling, Langdon glared at her as she left.
A line of eager youths, disenchanted floozies, and elderly miners awaited her at the door of her office. Word had spread.
Kimble had left, and now her accounts were accessible and balanced at a single request. She talked to potential deputies as she ate lunch, and through the afternoon, and well into the evening.
Elmer and Longshanks Limited still hadn't docked when Legs checked that night. About three-quarters of Purgatory local space population now inhabited the station.
A knock at the door stopped her as she headed for the stairs to her room.
Outside, seventeen-year-old Sadie Amber held a flimsy and looked nervous. Petite, and neat, Sadie had lost the gawky awkwardness of most teenagers through eking out a living in her family's hard-rock mines. Her light-brown, shoulder-length hair was pulled back into a practical ponytail, her hazel eyes were bright, and her face scrubbed clean without makeup or jewelry. She looked up at Legs, and held out the flimsy. "I understand you're looking for a deputy. I brought my resume."
Legs knew everyone who lived in and around Purgatory. Sadie Amber was in fact the younger sister of one of her previous deputies; from a good, solid, but poor family; got good grades on her schoolwork; was well behaved; and would come well recommended. None of that mattered. Most of the youths she'd spoken to today had the same qualifications.
The one thing that put Sadie above the other applicants was her older brother Tom. Tom Amber had been the best deputy Legs ever had, and she'd been sorry to see him go off to college.
Taking the flimsy, Legs said, "Come in."
Sadie looked around the office with obvious curiosity. Probably checking the sights against her brother's stories.
"So why do you want to be a deputy?" Legs reached down to adjust her legs to Sadie's height.
"I need the job. I'm too young to work in any of the mines, other than my folks'. Seventeen." Sadie frowned. "But, legally, I can work on the station. We need the money, and . . ." Sadie stared at Legs' garters. "Can you really make those look like anything?"
"Sure." Legs grinned. A few twiddles on the controls and her legs were encased in old, faded-pink cotton pants and ended in ratty-eared, fuzzy bunny-slippers. A few more taps and they changed to combat boots and silvered protective trousers, which didn't suit her sheriff's vest and dark miniskirt. So she switched to plain black garter, ordinary legs, and plain black shoes.
"Wow!" Sadie's fingers twitched. "Are they battery powered or bio-electrical?"
"Bio-electrical, with battery augmentation."
"Do they run off a standard Evif-Tenelli chip, or is that specialized?"
A mechanic-in-embryo if ever one lived.
"Check for yourself." Legs smiled, sat down, turned off her legs, and disconnected one of the prosthetic disks to hand to Sadie.
"Oh. A customized Evif-Tenelli. Wow." Sadie examined the prosthesis reverently.
"Captain Dixon brought me the latest upgrade on his last run. So now, not only can I choose the style, color, and covering on my legs and garter, it automatically sets up a body field in case of sudden air loss or decompression. So even if I'm caught in some emergency here on the station or out chasing someone down, I'm protected. It'll maintain pressure and oxygen levels within the body field, as best it can. And it'll stop most projectile and energy weapons, within its specs."
"You have that running all the time?" Sadie asked.
"No. Too much power drain. But it's there if I ever need it. Not only automatic, but I can turn it on manually if I want. And all the controls are ambidextrous, so I can change one leg or both from either disk."
"Wow." Sadie looked from the disk in her hand to Legs' stumps. "Oh." She looked embarrassed, and handed the disk back. "Sorry."
"For what? Curiosity will get you far in life."
Slouching and looking chagrined, Sadie said, "Papa keeps telling me to remember my manners before my curiosity gets the better of me."
"Everyone I interviewed today was curious. And not one dared to ask." Legs reattached and engaged her prostheses. "You come back in the morning. We'll roust Corin out of his quarters, so you can move in. He can go live with his family."
"Ah." Sadie stared open-mouthed.
"You're hired. Go get some sleep. Be here first thing in the morning."
Legs responded to five alarms that night, all drunk and disorderly brawls. So when Jim Nutil showed up in the wee hours before the office opened, Legs wasn't her normal pleasant self.
"What now?" She stood over the coffee machine trying once more to make it disgorge coffee rather than weak, colored water.
"I just got notice of a raid in progress out Heck-and-Gone." He shook his head, and keyed up the report on her computer.
Heck-and-Gone were a couple of large heavily metaled asteroids orbiting just inside the limits of the Kuiper Belt. Purists debated exactly how they should be classified: planetoids, asteroids, failed comets, escaped moons, space debris. As far as Legs was concerned they were nothing but an invitation to trouble. Every mining operation attempted there failed. Businesses that took them on ended up ruined. People got lost just heading out their way. Longshanks wouldn't touch them with a ten-light-year pole.
Sadie walked in as Legs and Nutil were conferring. Legs paged Corin with orders to show Sadie the routine, get her settled in the deputy's quarters, get her outfitted, and take care of whatever came up while Legs was out to Heck-and-Gone.
Legs spent the day gathering reports and evidence, limiting damage, and chasing through the vacuum. When she got back, Corin met her at the docks.
"Why did you hire the Sidewinder? Didn't anyone warn you about her?" Corin demanded as they walked back to the sheriff's office. "You wouldn't believe what she's been doing today! Taking over like she was the sheriff."
"What happened?"
"She's arrested fifteen people on drunk and disorderly."
"The cells only hold ten."
"She's got some of them in manacles on the porch benches."
"They all sobered up?"
"All but a few that're still sleeping it off."
"Well, let them go."
The column at the corner of Tin Alley and Main Street blared the Prattler's latest offerings. "Sheriff Lanier Unable to Safeguard Purgatory," "Details on Latest Bandit Attack at Heck-and-Gone," "Record Population Surge on Station Equals Record Bank Receipts," and in small type with no audio "Local Girl Hired as Deputy in Midnight Pact."
"Langdon's going to regret that." Legs tapped the deputy headline. "The Ambers might be poor, but they're numerous and well liked. And this ain't going to make them happy."
"He's blaming it all on you. Corrupting the local youngsters. He don't know much about the Sidewinder." When they were past the shouted headlines, Corin said, "She's been messing with the office. Moving things around and getting into stuff. She's been taking apart nearly every piece of equipment we've got. She's a pain. I don't know why anyone would hire the Sidewinder."
"Someone's got to corrupt Purgatory's youth," Legs said.
Corin frowned.
Though it was close to midnight station time, Main Street was as filled as it had been before. Perhaps even more so. Five men sat on one of the rough wooden benches outside the sheriff's office, shooting the breeze with passersby and laughing. Only by looking closely could Legs see the manacles around their ankles, keeping them sitting on the bench.
"Let everyone that's sober and awake go," Legs told Corin. He sighed as she entered her office.
The first thing she noticed was the overpowering fragrance of strong coffee, the second thing she noticed was that someone had been in to steal all the dust. They'd buffed every piece of metal till it gleamed while they were at it.
Sadie sat at the desk, sorting through computer displays. She looked up, saw Legs, and he
r expression changed from confused frustration to fearful hope. "Evening, Sheriff."
"Coffee." Legs stood over the coffee machine, staring in wonderment at the dark, black liquid in the transparent pot. "How'd you get coffee from this machine?"
"It just needed some adjustment." Sadie shrugged, and looked around nervously. "I fixed a few things. I hope you don't mind."
"Mind? Damnation, I ought to give you a raise for fixing the coffee machine."
A relieved grin spread over Sadie's face. Corin, who'd entered in time to hear Legs' comment, grimaced, and headed for the back cells. When most of the drunks were cleared out, Legs sent him home—permanently, since she had a new deputy now. She sent Sadie off to the deputy's quarters, and settled in to the computer to make her report.
After checking the docking records first thing in the morning, Legs paged Jack Dixon. He peeked in the front door, as if afraid of what might be lurking inside, before he entered.
"What are you doing?" Legs asked.
"They say you hired a woman known as the Sidewinder for your deputy. They say she's crazier than you."
Legs grinned. "Nobody is crazier than me. Sadie's something of a mechanic, with a more strict approach to the law than folks around here are used to. That works out fine as it happens, since last night was the first Hell Week night that I didn't get called out for a series of alarms."
"Good grief," Jack said as he took in the newly scrubbed condition of the sheriff's office. "I've known some of that dust nearly as long as you."
"I like her."
"You paged me. I thought maybe you were having problems with your new deputy. Obviously not. So, what do you want?"
"I want you to go looking for Longshanks. He and his crew are now officially a week overdue, and nobody's heard from them for a month now. I was out yesterday, and finding them may take several days. I need to circulate here and keep order. Being gone for a day during Hell Week is bad enough, without taking off for days on end."
"Find Longshanks. Good idea." Jack grinned at Legs. "Can I tell him you sent me?"
Cosmic Tales - Adventures in Sol System Page 19
