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“I’m not scaring you though, am I, Orion. You’ve seen my kind before.”
“Met one or two of you, sure.”
“What?” Josie peers out from behind me. “You’ve seen these things. You knew about… this!?”
“They’re called Scythkin. Brought down an Imperium freighter back when this was all starting,” I tell her. “They looked like people at first, but they pulled their heads off, came right out of their skin, and started murdering. It’s how I lost my arm. One of these bastards cut it off and ate it. Would have been dead, if not for Paris dragging me away, and the rest of my boys raiding what was left of the technology to make me this arm.”
“You’ve always impressed us with your resourcefulness,” the scythkin says. “That’s why we watched you, but didn’t kill you over the years. Thought you’d have your day. And now you will.”
“Now, I don’t know about that. I’m not the kind of feller who likes to keep order.”
Josie lets out a little snort. Apparently, she disagrees. But what I do with her is very different from what this lizard-looking bastard is asking me to do.
“We don’t have time for this,” he hisses, his centurion plumes shaking with impatience. “The scythkin are fighting dozens of wars. We’re bound to protect this human outpost. To do that, we have to use the strongest humans. You are the strongest one. You want to be sheriff? Be sheriff. You want to be warlord, be warlord. I don’t give a crap. Just get control of this colony. Take the insignia off the sheriff and take the card from his pocket. And take this.” He pulls a very large bag of something that clinks and tosses it to me.
That done, he returns to his ship, and takes flight before either Josie or I can muster anything like an argument to the contrary.
“Are you alright?” I ask Josie the question as the scythkin ship blasts straight up in an irritated sort of way. It’s hard to believe that is possible to fly a ship in a snippy manner, but it is. All these trials and tribulations down here, they don’t really matter to the monsters that keep watch over this planet. The Imperium is a lie, a front for something more mysterious than I reckon I’ll ever understand.
“I’m… okay,” she says, as if she’s doubtful about the answer herself. “I… was that real?”
“It was,” I assure her. “It’s strange.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because nobody believes that story,” Orion shrugs. “And because it didn’t matter. Our problem was the late sheriff.”
“So you’re sheriff now,” she says. “And you know aliens.”
“I don’t know aliens. No more than you do.”
“Open the bag,” she nudges me. “What did they leave us?”
I do so, because there’s nothing else to do now. We’ve reached the end of one strange road only to find another one bending off into the distance.
“Hell!”
Josie
“What is it?” I peek into the bag, then let out a string of excited curses as all thoughts of horned alien beasts fly right out of my head. “Oh my…. Gold dinari! We have money! We have So. Much. Money.”
“And the ear of the Imperium,” Orion says. “I’m not a criminal anymore. At least, not according to them. Isn’t it interesting. Commit enough crime and you become the law.”
“That’s probably always been true,” I say. “You either get killed, go to prison, or end up in charge of everything. What are you going to do first?”
“I’m not interested in running this colony, and I ain’t going to let no shiny headed alien tell me to do it neither. We’ll pass this place on to Paris and you and I’ll take the money and run.”
I run my fingers through the coins, feeling the endless possibilities this kind of money can unlock. We could go anywhere. Be anything. But I do see one major flaw in Orion’s plan. “I thought Paris would rather die than work for the Imperium.”
Chapter Nine
“I would rather die than work for the Imperium.”
Seven hours later, Paris confirms my suspicions. The gang has assembled at the charred remains of the homestead I never had a chance to inherit. I don’t know what has me shocked more, the fact that the Imperium are scythkin aliens in disguise, ruling with distracted iron fists over our world, or that everything I’ve ever known has been burned. The smell of destruction is thick in my nostrils, and it is all I can do to cling to Orion for some sense of safety.
“They’re aliens,” I tell him. “They can take their heads off and they’re all… sharp and hard and massive on the inside.”
“So you told her,” Paris says to Orion.
“Didn’t tell her. The pointy headed bastard was down here.”
“And he didn’t kill you?”
“Nope. Just handed me the key to Patch. And now, I’m handing it over to you.”
