High Noon on Phobos by Kurt Pankau

Author:Kurt Pankau
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kurt Pankau

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

TURK MET ME outside the starport.

“How you feeling?” she asked.

“Invigorated,” I said. I was taking a proactive step here, and I always feel better about myself if I have something positive to work towards, you know what I’m saying?

“Ready to pep talk some ranchers into a suicide mission?”

I gave Turk a nasty side-eye. “Well when you say it like that it, it don’t sound remotely noble at all.”

“I’m teasing you, Blaze,” she said. “How do you want to play this? Guns blazing or slow and cautious?”

Now that was a good question. The problem I was facing was that Lefty would have a spy or two keeping an eye on the local watering holes. In a case such as that, you weren’t so much rounding up a posse as you were organizing an underground resistance movement, which is a much more delicate thing that requires a bit more time and tact—both of which I was short on.

But if I just went into each tavern and just started rabble-rousing, I was going to get his attention. Posse work went better when the target didn’t have enough warning to dig in and bunker down, so to speak.

I stroked my chin, thoughtfully. “We ain’t got time for slow and cautious,” I said at last. “But guns blazing is going to get a bunch of people killed. So I’m thinking we might be able to hybridize the two. Would you mind keeping an eye out for moles?”

“I can’t cover both exits,” said Turk. “I’m only one woman.”

“Moles only ever use the back,” I said. “Just get yourself across the room before I start talking. Want me to give you a five minute head start?”

“Wouldn’t do any good,” said Turk. “Everybody knows I’m a tea-totaler.”

“Turk, you and I drank wine two nights ago.”

“Well,” she said with a sly grin, “just because it ain’t true doesn’t mean everybody doesn’t know it. Point still stands, though, my presence alone in a tavern will raise more suspicions than it allays.”

“I guess I’ll go in first,” I said.

“Sounds like a plan,” said Turk. “What’s your timeline for riding out?”

“Hours,” I said. “Soon as possible.”

“Daylight raid?”

“Nah. It’ll be evening before we get all of this together, I figure. What’s a good bar for me to start in?”

“What kind of posse you planning to round up?” asked Turk.

“Meanness and desperation would be the biggest assets, given the current predicament.”

“You’ll want Ugly Mike’s Shit-Hole,” said Turk, pointing to an establishment up the road.

“I do love the folksy nicknames that people give to taverns,” I said. “What’s its real name?”

“That is the real name,” said Turk. “Ugly Mike will be behind the bar. Don’t say anything about the name, okay?”

“Can do.”

“Also, good luck appealing to people’s sense of justice in there.”

“Justice?” I asked. “Nah, I ain’t going that route. Justice is for amateurs. I’m going to appeal to their wallets.”

I strode down the block like I owned it. I was sorely missing my hat just then. I ain’t exactly what you’d call an imposing figure, and a short man strutting is a prime target for ridicule.

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