Rockstars: Lion Killers

by Walt Staples

I knew it was time to drink up and leave when Choice Ranson pushed in through the doors. Crazy Eddie's isn't the most high-toned place in Heartbreak Pass. The fact that Eddie hasn't picked Ranson up by the scruff and seat and pitched him back out the door is proof of this.

Ranson is a troll. He likes to pick at people. On the whole, he's a pretty fair geologist, which is why Survey keeps him on—that and they don't have to look at him in the home office. That no one's shot the creature yet is put down to people's basic law-abidingness here on Sheba, or the general opinion that Ranson isn't worth the waste of powder.

The bridge game conversation had turned to Admin's latest publicity blitz to try to attract more settlers to Sheba. Old Ed Grinder was saying, “They been tryin' to make it safe an' borin' fer years.”

Ranson loomed over the table with his beer. “Boring? You find settling this place boring? You old coot, this is the greatest adventure in the system! And you sit there and call it boring! Madness!”

The four of them sat looking up at him in silence. Dick Ewell, George Topolopis, and Harty Gunther were old enough to be his father. Ed, old enough to be their father.

Ed carefully laid his cards face-down on the table as the color rose in his neck and face. His voice, though low and even, betrayed strain, “Admin up on Avenir's doin' their dangest to sanitize life here on this rock. They want to convince ever'body that livin' and workin' here is safe, routine, an' borin' as bein' up on Avenir.”

The others put their cards down as he warmed to his subject. Ed's stringy muscles knotted as he gripped the edge of the table and continued, “One reason is to sucker people into sellin' ever'thing they've got to come down here—that's good fer gettin' rid of the troublemakers, extra mouths, an' relievin' crowdin'. It's also good fer their buddies who buy up the stuff fer next to nothin'. But the main reason”--he raised an index finger--”is that they are bureaucrats. An' the knee-jerk reaction of a bureaucrat is to cover his butt. No matter what might happen, he's scared he's the one who's gonna be tossed out the airlock—so nothin' ever happens, ever'thing is always A-OK an' routine...safe.”

He swallowed. “But it ain't safe. It ain't routine. An' things happen.” He looked at the others at the table, then back up at Ranson. “We come here before there was a hole in the ground. I was lucky; I partnered with my missus. Hoppers weren't invented yet; you yomped ever' single kilo in on yer back. It took a generation to get rockhead environment suits to the point they sorta work. Like I say, I was lucky—the missus wasn't. I buried her three years to the day we made planetfall.

“Way back when sometime, they was a critter called a lion—some kind of mantid maybe—that ate people. A boy became a man by killin' one.” He swept a hand to include the others at the table. “These men killed their lion. They went through it. They survived it. They ain't quit. They won't.

“Now, let me ask you a question.” He pointed up at the younger man. “Who are you partnered with? Anybody?” At Ranson's silence, he continued. “No, I figured not. That, maybe, suggest somethin' to you? Man don't live out here long without somebody to watch his back. Somebody who cares about him.” Ed hooked a thumb at George. “Now George, here, is my bunkie. He puts up with my feet an' I puts up with his wind. Are we cuddle-bunnies? Nope, but we're partners an', generally, friends.” He picked up his cards and the others followed suit. The old man didn't bother to look up from his cards as he dismissed Ranson, “Boy, you come back after you kill your lion.”

Ranson stood looking at the bridge players, then at the rest of us. Nobody gave him any slack. Even Eddie just returned a blank look. After a couple of minutes, he sat down his glass, turned, and slowly walked out.

Sanja's Veil

by Kaye Jeffreys -

Sanja had never been inside one of their metal machines before. The angular thing bounced across the rugged hills like a wounded beetle. The jerking made it hard for Sanja to pretend that she was an unfeeling stone. She had wanted to disappear like a vapor, but that was impossible. So she settled on becoming stone.

"Rose, pay attention to your driving," their father sat on the middle bench next to Sanja. "You are going to run us into a crevice."

"I'm too angry to drive." The daughter's boldness would be unacceptable among Sanja's people.

The father gripped the seat in front of him. "Reece, take over for her before she kills us."

The brother and sister traded places while the machine bucked and rolled on.

Rose glowered at Sanja as she dropped into the bench in front of her. "She lied about Reece so she could get out of arranged marriage." The daughter waved her hand in big movements at Sanja.

Sanja refused to feel indignent or angry. She was rock, a stone, unfeeling.

The father crossed his arms and looked down. "We don't know anything about anything yet."

"Dad, do I have to marry her?" Reece looked back at the father.

"No," their father said. "We are not bound by their laws. We follow our own."

"But what about Senjab?" Rose continued to stared back at Sanja as if she could see through Sanja's veil and break through the rock defenses.

"All I promised him was that she could come live with us." Their father looked at Sanja. "And I will keep my promise. Sanja is welcome among us for as long as she needs."

The vehicle jerked sideways suddenly. It tipped and hovered at an angle in the wind a few moments as though deciding if it would fall on its side. Then it landed hard, right side up.

Father, son, and daughter looked at one another. Then Rose spoke. "See. It's not just me. The wind is too much."

"Reece, batten down. This should blow over soon."

Reece moved his hand over the machine’s devices. Small explosions sounded at the four corners around them.

The wind rocked the vehicle.

After a short silence the father said. "Rose, you will have to share your cubicle with Sanja."

"I will not! She might kill me in my sleep!"

"Rose!"

"I'll let her sleep in mine." Reece stood up and walked back to sit next to Rose. "I'll take the central area like I did when that Bible stayed with us. Zaibry can go stay with Brett and help with the kids."

"Thank you, Reece. Is this okay with you, Rose?"

"Whatever." Rose flopped backward in her seat so that Sanja couldn't see her anymore. It was a relief to be away from those seething eyes.

"Is this okay with you, Sanja?"

Sanja could not believe the father asked her. Nor could she guess why it mattered to him what she thought.

Unmovable stone slowly gave way. Sanja nodded once.

The Offering

by Kaye Jeffreys -

Reece moved his goggles down from his forehead to cover his eyes and searched the horizon again. "The wind is picking up. Soon we won't be able to see. Do they know we are here?"

"Yes." Dad crouched down and rested his hand on the ground.

"What if they don't come?"

"We don't go back up to the Rims until we make the offering. Don't worry. They're here." Dad stood and brushed dust off his hands. "More than usual."

"Is it because we were late with the offering?"

"More likely because of the nomad you saved from the spider."

"What?"

"Come with me and keep your mouth shut."

Reece followed Dad down the hill to the meeting rock.

Several dozen mounted nomads crested the opposite hill and stopped.

A single bug with two riders broke away from the rest and descended to meet them. They reached the rock first and dismounted.

Dad put up his hand in silent greeting. The rider, Senjab, did the same. His smaller passanger stood behind him to the side, her head bowed and face covered with a veil.

"Is all well?" Dad asked.

"All is not well." Senjab pointed at Reece. "Your son touched my daughter." He motioned back toward the girl behind him.

"Dad, I didn't--"

Dad put up his finger.

Reece shut his mouth, bit his lip, and breathed hard through his nose. Why did he stop to help a nomad?

"This is a serious charge." Dad spoke loud over the wind but remained calm.

"Sanja has become a shame to her people and must be cast from us."

Sanja, so that was her name, the little liar. She stood, head bowed and speechless. The wind whipped her garments about her.

"What can be done to resolve this?" Dad clasped his hands behind his back, stepped back with one foot, and turned so that he didn't face Senjab square on but at an angle.

"She must join your people through marriage to your son."

Reece's lip escaped his teeth. "Dad!"

Dad held up his finger again and gave Reece a sharp look.

Reece put his hands on his head and turned his back to them. Stupid Nomads and their stupid, stupid laws. He should have left her to be spider food. An immediate sinking feeling hit as his insides rejected the thought. He took a deep breath. He had done the right thing and could have done nothing else. He would rather face the consequences of doing a good deed than disappoint the One who loves all.

Dad said in his even tone, "Will you receive our gift and may we continue to mine Mt. Olympus?"

"Things between us will not change if you also take Sanja because your son has shamed her."

Reece turned back around and stared at Senjab. Were the streamed accusations really necessary?

Senjab ignored Reece's glare.

Dad nodded once. "We will take Sanja to live with us."

"Then it is done." Senjab gave a shallow bow.

Dad handed Senjab the pouch of cut diamonds.

Senjab mounted his bug and rode away, never looking back at the daughter he left behind like camp debris. Sanja gave no visible sign that she had been discarded by her father. She stood rigid against the wind, all expression hidden by her veil. Maybe her people falsely accused her like they did Reece.

"Sanja." Dad's voice was gentle towards the girl, even over the fierce wind. "Come with us." He turned and walked back to their multirider.

Reece walked along side his father still needing to make his case, not just for himself, but for the thrown-away, little girl that followed them. "Dad, I didn't touch her. Nor did she touch me."

"We will discuss this later." Dad didn't scold, but his words were firm. "Right now we have to get out of this wind."

Dangerous Jobs

by Kaye Jeffreys -

"Are you hungry?" Dad stood in the door of Brett's sleep cubicle. "Gordy made chicory millet soup, good for lung health."

Brett propped himself up, "It smells good. Bless Gordy."

"You can eat a little?" Dad handed Brett the metal bowl.

The soup still steamed in the warm bowl. "Food is starting to sound good."

"You gave us all a scare." Dad sat down next to Brett's bed.

The savory broth and wild vegetables tasted good and went down smooth.

Dad stroked his chin. "Kellie doesn't look like she's taking it well. She looks worse than you do."

"She told me she's not burying another husband. I'm not allowed to die before her." Brett saluted like he was an Enforcer.

Dad saluted back, showing his white teeth in a mirthful smile. "Like we have that much control."

"I told her that I'd be ready to go up to the Rims soon."

"The Clinic lady said it would take time."

"Don't listen to Lessie. She's from undersea and doesn't know how things work up here." Brett shook his head as he remembered the scolding he got from Lessie in the circuit office.

Dad leaned forward. "This time I'm listening."

"But Madame Bleu was showing off for us. Did you see the fountain she shot up?" Brett spread his fingers and reached for the roof of his sleeper. "She was telling us to come visit her next, that we wouldn't be sorry if we did."

"We aren't cleared to go back up yet." Dad crossed his arms and leaned back.

Brett suspended his spoon in front of his mouth. "That's right, the offering."

"Tomorrow, Reece and I will send up a flare and meet with them."

"What if they don't accept it?"

"Then we will go back to what our ancestors did."

"Hunt?" Brett's stomach became queasy. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Playing Rim Roulette isn't dangerous?"

"It doesn't seem as dangerous as prospecting." Brett set the bowl of soup on the shelf next to his bed. He could no longer eat with the sour feeling in his gut. "Reece got in some good practice the other day with that spider."

Dad took a deep breath and covered his eyes as though he didn't want to see something. "Reece got lucky. He saw the spider first."

Rockstars: All That Glitters

by Walt Staples

Someone once said you can tell a field geologist’s environment suit from a miner’s by the smell. While in both, sweat overpowers the other normal suit stinks—halitosis, machine oil, and urine—there’s also the whiff of erudition. Whoever said it must have been a field geologist, because it’s a cinch nobody else would.

Oolite-Head Marx and I were working the north slope of Quatermain’s core caldera. Head got his nickname from two things; his head is shaped just like an egg and his was the biggest discovery of oolitic hematite on the south caldera slope.

What’s oolitic hematite?

Look it up, Ace. That’s why you lug that computer around on your wrist, ain’t it? Can’t watch porn all the time.

Anyway, as I was saying, the two of us had been dirtside for about a five-day when we’d made camp the night before. Next morning I’m dragging my butt out of the bubble--we were carrying one-mans because we’d had to leave the hopper eight klicks back down slope while we yomped all the field equipment up to the bluffs—and there’s Head staring through the theodolite at the bluffs. Head is not a morning person so naturally I had to say, “My, getting dedicated in our old age aren’t we.”

Without turning around, he stepped to the side, gestured at the theodolite and said, “Shadup and take a look, funny man.”

I stooped down—Head’s shorter than me—and looked through the eyepiece. About 200 meters down from the edge, something gleamed in Eclectia’s bounce light. “Interesting.” I straightened up and looked at Head. “Do we set up the laser?”

The Whale was below the horizon so we didn’t have our filters down. I could see him chewing the end of that mustache of his. “We could…but if it’s noble, we just gonna put a hole in it.”

“Could be pyrite.”

He nodded. “Could be but…” He let it hang for a minute. He cocked his head and squinted one eye. “Just don’t feel right for fool’s gold.”

Head’s famous for his “feelings.” But, considering he’s right about 80 percent of the time, you listen to him.

With a bit of dread, I asked, “So we go down and drag the laser back up here?”

Head put his fists on his hips and looked at the ground for a moment. Then he looked back up at me. “I’m agin it for the same reason you are, Roy. I’m just as lazy as you are an’ it’ll blow the whole day. Though there is another way…” He leered at me through his visor.

With a prophetic sinking feeling, I knew just what he meant. I shook my head in defeat. “Yep, you did it last time. My turn again.”

#

I checked that the spider silk cable would run free and that the hoist was properly anchored. The old rock hound joke runs that if it’s not, you’re the first to know, the recovery party is the second, and the coroner is the third. I don’t buy it. The insurance types seem to show up pretty fast.

I looked over the edge. In geology, you get used to looking off heights or you go into some other line of work, like pastry chef. Head was small as he looked back up at me from the theodolite about 100 meters from the cliff base. “Okay, Roy, I’ll tell you when you’re in the crosshairs.” The Whale was up and drowning out the bounce light from Eclectia, so we left the theodolite pointed at the location of the glimmer. Head would coach me to the spot.

I pointed the laser rangefinder at the foot of the bluff. The reading came back 643.81 meters. I did a little math in my head. If the hoist has 800 meters of line and something goes wrong, that means I can still dig a 156.19 meter hole in the ground. I hate those Jernigan hoists, they kill too many people. But, when you’re just starting out…

I checked my rig and turned my back to Head. “Okay, starting down.” I swallowed and stepped off. The overhang at the top meant I was dangling about a meter and a half from the buff face on the way down. All I had to do was stop lowering when Head sang out that I was even with the spot and shoot a sample. The sampler bit is rocket powered so there’s no kick to screw up your equilibrium and set you swinging. You might get the feeling that there’re a bunch of us idiots doing this sort of thing.

I tapped the “slow release” button and fell like a stone. Like I say, I hate Jernigans. I managed to say something pithy like, “Holy--!” before the reel seized up. I hung there for Lord only knows how long, trying to talk myself into opening my eyes. Instead, I decided to try to think up some better last words. I’d gotten to “Cry not for me, beautiful maidens of…” when something slapped me on the lower leg. Head’s voice was gentle between gasps and pants in my earphones, “Roy, open your eyes. It’s okay.”

I peeked out of one, then opened the other. I was hanging maybe two meters off the ground. “How do you know my eyes were closed?” My voice sounded shaky in my ears.

I couldn’t see Head’s grin through his filter, but I could hear him still panting from the run. “Because mine would be, son.”

I climbed the rest of the way down. “Now what? That motor’s got to be burnt out.”

Head plucked a pair of ascenders from his belt. “Can’t go down, so you go up. My turn--you go watch through the theodolite.”

Anyway, that’s how Head and I made the “Crappy Jernigan Strike.” He was right, it wasn’t pyrite. The gold assayed out at 18 grams per ton. Ever since, we’ve used a Haman Hoist. Like Head says, “Hey, use the best you can afford.”

Equipment Malfunction

by Kaye Jeffreys -

Reece scratched at the porous rock with his pick ax near the top of Red Rim. He took a deep breath through his gas mask then let the air weeze out through the valves. In the distance Black Rim smoked and rumbled sending vibrations through the entire mountain. Blue Rim spewed molten rock in a plume of red-orange toward the heavens. Reece chipped at the rim stone again. He hated sweating in the oppressive heat just to be skunked. The Lady in Red was being stingy with her jewels.

Brett had to be doing better. He always did better. Older brother, more experienced, more patient with the tedious work of seek and find. He had a way with the Lady. She saved her best diamonds for him.

Reece glanced over at his brother.

Brett knelt on one knee and grasping his mask.

"Brett?" Reece called through the comlink.

His brother didn't answer.

Beyond Brett, Dad stood up and surveyed the work area. Venting volcanic gases warped the view and caused static in the link. "All teams in." Stisttt, "We have a malfunction."

Reece attatched his pick to his belt and climb over the jagged rocks toward his brother. Dad came from the other direction.

Brett slumped as they approached. Dad and Reece hoisted his arms over their shoulders and carried Brett away from the rim. They crunched brittle rock and stirred ash as they selected stable footing away from the noxious gases.

"We have to get him off this mountain, fast," Dad said calmly to the entire team. And then, "Rose, you'll get to the multirider before the rest of us. Fire her up. We gotta get to First Aid," stistt, "maybe have to transport to Last Stop."

Reece adjusted his hold on Brett. "What about the offering?"

"We will bring it back later." Dad's breath labored through his mask.

"Should I break off and take it to them alone?"

"Absolutely not. Brett's health is number one priority. We will deal with the offering when we know he is safe."

Or dead, the thought popped into Reece's mind as the floor of his stomach dropped away. He pushed the thought away and continued distracting himself with, "Will the Nomads accept it later?"

"We will deal with that when the time comes. Keep focused on getting Brett to safety."

The Spider in the Chaparral

by Kaye Jeffreys -

Traces of web hung from a branch of one of the trees. Reece stopped his one-rider at a safe distance and searched the small island of grey-green trees in the sea of yellow-grey grasses. Rose won't be happy that a spider has moved into one of her nature projects. He'd come back later with others from the mining camp to flush it out. No one takes on a spider alone.

A cry drifted on the wind from the other side of the chaparral.

Reece unholstered his rifle and made a wide circle around the growth of trees searching it and the rippling grass. There was movement in the shadows of the low hanging branches. Spindly legs of a large spider pulled a rope of a web into the chaparral.

Thirty feet away someone fought, unseen, except for the violent shaking of grass around her.

Weren't lassoing spiders extinct? Yet one methodically hauled in its prey from the cover of the trees.

Reece climbed off his one-rider, counting on the hope that the spider could only lasso one prey at a time. He propped his rifle against his vehicle and located the scythegun under the seat. He pulled it out and fumbled at the switches. He fought to hold the cumbersome thing steady in his trembling fingers.

Slow down and do this right. He forced a steady aim.

The spider hesitated, recalculating.

Reece fired. The scythegun cracked.

A shriek ripped the air.

Then all noise and movement in the chaparral stopped except for the leaves manipulated by the wind.

Reece aimed again at the motionless spider, and waited. He listened with ears deafened by the gun's crack and spider's shriek. The wind shifted and increased though it sounded muffled in comparison to the pounding of his heart.

#

Collapsed in the beaten down grasses, the nomad didn't stir except for her exhausted breathing.

Reece took a step back and searched the horizon for other nomads. There were none. Very strange. He had to decide if he should help her and break one of their laws or walk away and avoid trouble. So far he knew that you don't touch them, you don't talk to them, and you aren't ever supposed to look at their females. He searched the horizon again expecting to see riders pour over the hills any second. Only wind disturbed the grass.

The webbing wrapped around the girl's ankle had rubbed it raw and bleeding. He could not walk away when a Higher Law compelled him to help.

Never looking directly at her, Reece used an old rag to protect his hand as he grasped the sticky web. He sawed through it with his knife a full two feet away from her foot. Then he stepped back.

She crawled then rose to her feet and limped away through the waves of grasses. Picking up speed to a shakey run, she disappeared over a hill never looking back.

"You're welcome." Wind whipped his words away to parts unknown.

What did he expect? A handshake, a thank you, eye contact?

Reece climbed onto his one-rider and started it up. He had to tell the others that lassoing spiders were not as extinct as they thought.