Author: Evan A Davis
“Another round for my friends,” Dallas announced, “on me!”
Every patron in the Four-Finger Saloon loudly cheered, raising a glass to the famous outlaw. The barkeep tried to protest, but was quickly drowned in the oncoming tide of customers. The automated piano man struck up a jaunty song for the gunslinger’s generosity.
With that, Dallas slipped behind the digital curtain nearer the back and descended the hidden set of stairs which led to a small room lined mostly with stolen goods. A scrawny man with lined cheeks and a pinched mouth stood behind a service window adjusting a ledger. “Bernie!” Dallas greeted him. “Long time, no see!”
The pawn broker vented an impressed whistle. “Nathan ‘Diamondback’ Dallas. What brings you ’round?” His hand slipped under the counter for the silent alarm.
The outlaw laughed and held up a torn coupling. The broker’s mouth drew a tight line, which Diamondback countered with a bright grin.
“Just you and me,” he said, tossing the security coupling aside. He skipped down the remaining steps and began to mosey with his hands on his hips, the chrome of his blaster catching the dim light. “And a family matter does,” he said. “You seen my brother Spence lately?”
“No, sir,” Bernie lied. “He still flyin’ with you? Last I heard, you two split off near Saturn-way.”
“You heard right. Not so much lately on account of a…familial dispute. Speakin’ of, I’m here for my grandmama’s urn. And before you say it, I know Spence sold it here.” He let his hand fall to his blaster. “Recently.”
The broker adjusted his tie, stalling for time. “Well,” he said after a moment, “The urn itself is sealed iridium. Very rare in itself. I could certainly sell-”
“Bernie! You give me my grandmother!” He fired a plasma round just over Bernie’s shoulder, which prompted the broker to hand over the urn in question. “Thank you,” Dallas said genially.
Once again aboard his ship, his trigger finger unlocked the bioscanner at the urn’s base. Glittery, scarlet light danced over the flight consoles and nodes in the cockpit. That same trigger finger then ran smoothly over the stolen Venusian rubies housed within the urn.
“Thanks again, Nana,” he smiled warmly.