off of this rock alive.”
Zak nodded in agreement. It was something they tried not to dwell on. Aristotle Lang appeared to be a jovial man, and he had, truth be told, taken very good care of his captives. They were never physically abused, they had plenty of food, and could do whatever they wanted as long as they didn’t try to flee. But for all his pretenses of being a gentleman rogue, Lang was a stone cold killer and they both knew it. You didn’t rise to the top of that particular dung heap without being willing to slit a few throats.
“Come on then. Speaking of the devil, we’ve got to go give Lang an update. The guards said he’s in a good mood today, so this should be painless.” As the two men left the historian’s tiny, cluttered office, Zak found himself hoping to God, or whoever was listening, that Cecil’s father had sent someone.
Chapter 7
New Austin
Lone Star System
Laredo Territory
Southern Hemisphere
The proprietor of the establishment was quietly reading his tablet, feet up on the desk, when Marcus and Wade walked in. The door quietly hissed open, sending a warm draft into the shop. Elliot Landrieu, the owner of Laredo Armament and Supply, smiled at the two colonial marshals as they came into his shop. “Good afternoon, boys,” he said, setting the tablet down and standing up. “What can I do ya for?”
“Ah, we’re just killing time, Elliot,” Marcus said, looking around. “Kinda slow today.” The marshal liked visiting with Elliot. He was an old veteran of the Espatier Corps, always had good inventory at fair prices, and was a hell of a gunsmith on top of it. His shop was well-lit, with a friendly atmosphere despite the fact that Elliot looked like a crusty prospector, right down to the shaggy beard and denim overalls.
The blue and silver flag of the Interstellar Concordiat hung on the wall. Next to it was the rampant stallion on burnt orange banner that represented New Austin. Next to that was the red and silver Eagle, Globe, and Rocket flag of the Espatier Corps. Daylight poured in from large windows, and the walls were stocked with firearms of every sort. His wife, Meg, handcrafted leather holsters and gun belts, just like you’d have found on ancient Earth.
“I heard about that tussle you had with that cyborg fella,” Elliot said. “Glad to see you’re okay, Marshal. The news said he was a pretty bad hombre.”
“Yeah, well, I owe Wade here for that one,” Marcus answered, patting his partner on the shoulder. “He saved my ass with one well-placed shot.”
Wade shrugged nonchalantly. “It was the ADR-808 you built for me,” he said, referencing the powerful 8mm rifle he kept in their truck. “I couldn’t have missed with that optic on there.”
“Bull- shit you couldn’t have missed,” Marcus said with a grin. “You miss all the time. A fancy automatic optical gunsight can’t make up for the fact that my daughter shoots better than you.”
“Says the guy whose ass was saved by my amazing marksmanship!” Wade retorted. “Get this, Elliot: perfect headshot, standing position, forty meters. The perp’s head was wobbling all over the place and he was choking Marcus here out. I had to line up the shot through a cloud of dust and make it without hitting this clown, who decided to try and go hug the dangerous felon.”
Elliot let out a hard, raspy laugh and slapped the counter.
Wade pointed a finger at his partner. “And for the record, Boss, your daughter is an unnaturally good shot, and that’s not a fair comparison.”
Elliot laughed again, then gestured toward the selection of firearms on the wall. “Anything you boys wanna see? I’ve been playing with different configurations of the ADR-808 and the CAR90, since those are two of my best sellers.”
“You got more lasers in stock than usual,” Wade observed.
“Believe it or not, there’s been more demand for them lately. I guess the economy is picking up. Take a look at this.” After checking
Zak nodded in agreement. It was something they tried not to dwell on. Aristotle Lang appeared to be a jovial man, and he had, truth be told, taken very good care of his captives. They were never physically abused, they had plenty of food, and could do whatever they wanted as long as they didn’t try to flee. But for all his pretenses of being a gentleman rogue, Lang was a stone cold killer and they both knew it. You didn’t rise to the top of that particular dung heap without being willing to slit a few throats.
“Come on then. Speaking of the devil, we’ve got to go give Lang an update. The guards said he’s in a good mood today, so this should be painless.” As the two men left the historian’s tiny, cluttered office, Zak found himself hoping to God, or whoever was listening, that Cecil’s father had sent someone.
Chapter 7
New Austin
Lone Star System
Laredo Territory
Southern Hemisphere
The proprietor of the establishment was quietly reading his tablet, feet up on the desk, when Marcus and Wade walked in. The door quietly hissed open, sending a warm draft into the shop. Elliot Landrieu, the owner of Laredo Armament and Supply, smiled at the two colonial marshals as they came into his shop. “Good afternoon, boys,” he said, setting the tablet down and standing up. “What can I do ya for?”
“Ah, we’re just killing time, Elliot,” Marcus said, looking around. “Kinda slow today.” The marshal liked visiting with Elliot. He was an old veteran of the Espatier Corps, always had good inventory at fair prices, and was a hell of a gunsmith on top of it. His shop was well-lit, with a friendly atmosphere despite the fact that Elliot looked like a crusty prospector, right down to the shaggy beard and denim overalls.
The blue and silver flag of the Interstellar Concordiat hung on the wall. Next to it was the rampant stallion on burnt orange banner that represented New Austin. Next to that was the red and silver Eagle, Globe, and Rocket flag of the Espatier Corps. Daylight poured in from large windows, and the walls were stocked with firearms of every sort. His wife, Meg, handcrafted leather holsters and gun belts, just like you’d have found on ancient Earth.
“I heard about that tussle you had with that cyborg fella,” Elliot said. “Glad to see you’re okay, Marshal. The news said he was a pretty bad hombre.”
“Yeah, well, I owe Wade here for that one,” Marcus answered, patting his partner on the shoulder. “He saved my ass with one well-placed shot.”
Wade shrugged nonchalantly. “It was the ADR-808 you built for me,” he said, referencing the powerful 8mm rifle he kept in their truck. “I couldn’t have missed with that optic on there.”
“Bull- shit you couldn’t have missed,” Marcus said with a grin. “You miss all the time. A fancy automatic optical gunsight can’t make up for the fact that my daughter shoots better than you.”
“Says the guy whose ass was saved by my amazing marksmanship!” Wade retorted. “Get this, Elliot: perfect headshot, standing position, forty meters. The perp’s head was wobbling all over the place and he was choking Marcus here out. I had to line up the shot through a cloud of dust and make it without hitting this clown, who decided to try and go hug the dangerous felon.”
Elliot let out a hard, raspy laugh and slapped the counter.
Wade pointed a finger at his partner. “And for the record, Boss, your daughter is an unnaturally good shot, and that’s not a fair comparison.”
Elliot laughed again, then gestured toward the selection of firearms on the wall. “Anything you boys wanna see? I’ve been playing with different configurations of the ADR-808 and the CAR90, since those are two of my best sellers.”
“You got more lasers in stock than usual,” Wade observed.
“Believe it or not, there’s been more demand for them lately. I guess the economy is picking up. Take a look at this.” After checking
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