Tulon Station
(Part 2 of 2)
by
John M. Whalen
About the author
THE DOOR OPENED AND THE MEN came into the station.
The man with no shirt came in first.
He was bald, muscular and had bright blue eyes. The other two followed
him and all three
stopped when they saw her and Brand standing there. The man with no
shirt looked Brand up and
down.
"Well, I'll be damned," he said. "Brand. I thought
that was your Hover Jeep out there.
Fancy running into you. Fancy."
"Hello, Dancer," Brand said. "I might have known it
would be you."
Dancer looked at her now, his eyes devouring her
inch by inch. When his eyes finally got
to her face, he grinned.
"Ms. Steele," he said.
He looked back at Brand.
"Should have known you'd beat me to her."
He looked back at the men behind him.
"Boys meet Jack Brand," he said. "Every body just
calls him Brand. We go back a long
ways. Don't we, old buddy."
"That's right," Brand said. "But I don't recall that
we were ever buddies."
"I guess that's true enough," Dancer said. "Matter
of fact, you were the one mainly
responsible for that time I spent in Tulon Prison."
He turned to the men with him.
"See, Brand here worked for Trans-Exxon
security," he said. "Seems somebody made off
with a payroll, and ol' Brand arrested me for it. But I told 'em I
never had nothin' to do with that
robbery."
"You were found guilty."
"They never found no money. If I did that job, what
I do with the money?"
"There was evidence. Your fingerprints. And the
bullet from your gun matched the one
found in the payroll guard."
Dancer grinned.
"Fancy that," he said. "Well, what's the use goin'
over all that after all this time. The
main thing is that now you got a chance to make it up to me, Brand. A
chance to wipe the slate
clean."
"How's that?" Brand asked.
"Simple," Dancer said. "Just hand her over to us and
let us take her in for the reward
Virtual Fuel is offering. You do that I might let you walk out of here."
"Just like that."
"They're offering a sizeable amount for this woman,"
Dancer said. He started to move to
the side and the men behind him spread out on his right and left. "A
million Euro-Creds. Seems
her old man owns the outfit. He's so worried about her, price is no
object."
"A million, huh?" Brand said.
"That's right. Funny thing. It's dead or alive.
Seems as if her old man is so upset, he just
won't feel right again until she's either back safe, or he has proof
that she's no longer alive. Kind
of foolish of him, if you ask me. But that's the way it is."
"I'll give you one chance, to turn around and get
out of here, while you still can," Brand
said. "Don't make me have to kill you."
Dancer grinned.
"Fancy that, boys," he said. "Outnumbered three to
one and he figures he can take all
three of us. Fancy."
Myra Steele could stand it no longer.
"What's wrong with you men?" she screamed. "Are you
all crazy? Are you such greedy
pigs that you'll kill each other just so you don't have to share the
money? Stop it. If it's the
money you're worried about, I can guarantee that my father will pay
double what he's offered, if I
ask him to. This isn't necessary."
Brand moved away from her, keeping his eyes on the
three men. He stepped sideways
until his back was to the lunch counter and the three bounty hunters
stood facing him with the
windows at their backs.
"Three million," Myra said. "Four million. A million
for each of you. Just don't do this."
"Hear that, Brand?" Dancer said. "Four million
Euro-Creds. Aint that somethin'."
"It's not too late, Dancer," Brand said. "Just
take your boys and leave."
"Not likely," Dancer said. "We've got things to
settle."
As if he'd given some unseen signal, all three men
suddenly reached for their electro
pistols. But before any of them could even get the weapons clear of the
holsters, three blue rays
zapped from the muzzle of Brand's pistol. Three loud reports sounded as
the rays burnt large
black holes in their chests and they flew back against the wall. They
lay unmoving on the floor,
smoke rising from their bodies..
. Brand stood crouched, the Teflon coated plastic
gun in his hand. Satisfied they were no
longer a danger, he holstered the weapon and looked over at her. She
glared at him in contempt,
as he went over to the fallen men.
Dancer was still alive. Brand lifted him up.
Dancer's blue eyes looked up at him almost
with amusement in them.
"Four million," he said. "Fancy— "
Brand let him down.
"Are you happy now, Mr. Brand?" Myra said. "Now you
don't have to worry about not
getting your full share of the reward. It's all yours. You've been
lying to me all along, haven't
you? You didn't tell me you were a security agent for Trans-Exxon. You
acted like you didn't
know about the reward my father posted. You made me believe you were
some kind of hermit
who'd turned his back on Earth to live clean in the desert. But it was
all lies, wasn't it. You just
proved that you're no better than anybody else. All you want is money."
Brand stood up. If her little tirade bothered him,
he didn't show it.
"We've four hours of daylight left," he said. "We
can make it to the Transport Center
before dark. We better be on our way."
They rode in silence the next four hours, as the
Hover Jeep raced over the desert. And as
twilight spread its purple and orange light across the sky, she saw the
lights and towers of the
Transportation Center. Brand looked over at her.
"For what it's worth," he said. "I didn't know about
the reward. I didn't tell you I'd
worked in security for Trans-Exxon because I didn't think it was
important. And the reason I
killed those three wasn't money. Dancer wanted to settle an old score.
Even if I'd turned you over
to them, they'd have tried to kill me anyway. And if they'd succeeded,
they would have had to
kill you, as a witness to murder. Your father made a mistake making
that reward dead or alive.
They wouldn't have had anything to lose if they killed you."
She didn't know what to say. She wasn't sure she
believed everything he'd just told her.
Brand docked the Hover Jeep and she got out. They
were greeted by a Customs officer.
"Brand," the officer said. "How have you been, old
man?"
"Sam, this is Myra Steel," Brand said. "I believe
her father is looking for her."
A half hour later, she stepped out of the Customs
official's office, a thin strip of plastic in
her hand. She expected to see Brand sitting where she'd left him, in
one of the waiting room
chairs. She wanted to fling in his face the check her father had
statted her. But he wasn't in the
waiting room. She turned to the Customs Official.
"Where did he go?" she asked.
"Brand?" he said. "Probably back out on the desert.
He doesn't like it where its' too
civilized."
"But what about his money? He killed three men to
get it."
"Money doesn't mean much to Brand," the official
said. "Not much use for it out there."
"I don't understand," she said. "Why did he do it
then? Why does he stay out there."
"He's still looking for her," the official said.
"Who?"
"His sister. She worked at Trans-Exxon Security too.
She got taken one day about ten
years ago. The Tulons. There's thousands of them out there. Different
gangs, families. Some a lot
worse than the ones that took you. Whenever he hears about a woman
being held by one of those
gangs, he rides out to see if its her."
She stood there in stunned silence.
"After all this time, though," the official said. "I
don't think he's ever going to find her.
But still, he keeps looking."
She ran over to a window and looked out at the dark
desert beyond the Transport Center.
A half moon revealed the distant mountains and the long stretch of
barren sand that stretched
endlessly to the horizon. She thought she saw the tiny sparkling light
of his Hover Jeep making its
way in the dark.***
The End.
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to return to Part One
