Have Blaster, Will Travel

Have Blaster, Will Travel
by Shannon R. Hoyt
for Megan Grimm--Happy Birthday

(Author's note: the characters of Pete, Brisco, Bowler, and everyone else from that series are not mi ne, I am only borrowing them (without express permission) and no disrespect is intended, no money will be made from this exercise. The character of Zagthar is not owned by me, but she is used with permission and quasi free rein by indulgence of her ow ner and alter ego, Megan Grimm, for whom this story is written. The character of Kaina is owned by me, and I'd like to keep it that way. About Zagthar it is important to note that she is a shape shifter, skilled spy/assassin, and has certain larcenous tendencies when she's not killing people for fun and profit. About Kaina it is necessary only to think of her as a member of the Galactic equivalent of the FBI--Generally keeping order, but not doing routine police work most of the time. Yes, this d oes become important.)

Zagthar whirled, a dozen arms turning in a complicated dance of edged death.
And the mage mage, he calls himself, she thought. Hah. was never there.
Mage, she thought aga in, seething as he evaded one of her best moves. And of course, I had to be the one sent to whack him. Stupid bloody politicians with their stupid bloody armies fighting their stupid bloody wars with their stupid bloody money. And then, on a lower and less blindingly angry level, sure would like to get my hands on whatever tech he's using for these tricks.
She turned again, blades dancing like a blender on a caffeine high, but the man was suddenly... elsewhere.
No man could have moved that quickly. The thought was chilling, penetrating the battle haze, and she grinned mirthlessly. Light pinged delicately off wickedly pointed teeth as Zagthar reached for the blaster at her belt. "I am tired of this!" she snarled, thumbing the switch to 'wide dispersion' as she brought it to bear and fired, all in one smooth motion. Let him try to outrun this.
He didn't need to. He lifted his hand and the beam split neatly around him, then as Zagthar gaped he snapped out a few harsh, guttural syllables.
And the room vanished.
***
Zagthar blinked in the sudden brightness, then again at what the first blink revealed.
And her jaw dropped.
From the underground sanctum of the self styled mage she found herself outdoors, staring at the sparse scrub and twisted trees that had fought their way out of the grey sands. The sky was a brittle, cloudless blue, with a bright yellow sun blazing ove rhead.
Earth? she asked herself, shading her eyes with one hand and narrowly avoiding impaling her forehead on the knife it still held. She sheathed the extras absently, keeping one handy while the others disappeared into her clothing , and checked the blaster to see that it was secure in her belt. Now what did the little jerk do to me?
There was a loud foreboding ka-click behind her, the sound of someone spitting, and a flat tenor drawl. "What t he hell are you?"
A split second to triangulate on the source of the voice, then
Thunk.
Having taken care of the immediate problem, she turned to look, cursing her own absentness. Shoulda looked around properly wh en I first ended up here. More of that, and it's gonna be a permanent mistake someday...
The figure on the ground was a human or humanoid male not definite proof that she was, indeed, on Earth, but pretty good evidence. He was tall (or cu rrently, long), dressed in black and grey, with long brown hair, a bristly mustache, and a slack lack of expression. His head lay next to a dark hat, which he had probably been wearing until only just recently, and his hand held a gun, black handled, silver barreled.
She pried open his fingers to get a better look, and whistled. "Oh, you are a beauty," she told it softly, turning it over. It was warm to the touch no surprise, in this heat and nestled again st her palm as though made for her. Her finger curled reflexively against the trigger, and on impulse she took aim at a far off tree and squeezed ever so gently.
Nothing happened.
She looked at it, disappointed, trying to remember the movies she 'd seen... then smiled, pulled the hammer back, and squeezed again.
The branch she shot at exploded in a shower of splinters, and she instinctively rode with the kick, feeling the power of the weapon in her hand it was a little heavier than her bl aster, but far more satisfying in feel and results. Another grin, as she found herself unconsciously rubbing the chamber with the edge of her thumb. "Cool." With a weapon like that, this almost has to be Earth. I should've paid more attention last time I was here How much could I have done, with something like this?
She turned back as a sudden slight rustling indicated that the man was waking. Quickly she Shifted to humanoid form, tight jumpsuit re forming itself arou nd her, and crouched down beside him. She considered cold cocking him again, but nixed the idea he's either tougher than he looks, or I'm losing my touch, if he's waking up this soon...and heaven help me, if I'm losing my touch. So we'll see if he can be helpful.
She pressed the tip of the barrel to his skin, just under the edge of his jaw.
His eyes snapped open at the contact, his body instantly tense as his gaze darted nervously around before coming to rest on her face.
& quot;Where are we?"
"You don't even know where you are? You been lyin' in the desert too long, lady?" His tone was sneering... until she cocked the gun.
His hand crept toward the empty holster, and she smiled nastily. "It's right here. Beautiful weapon," she told him, tilting it so he could just see that it was, indeed, his own gun.
His eyes widened, nostrils flaring as his entire body trembled with...outrage? What
The words ripped from him be fore she could finish the thought, his voice going squeaky with emotion: "Yer touchin' my Piece!!"
"Am I?" she said, all wide eyed innocence. "Tell me where we are."
"Nevada, okay? Now gimme my P iece!"
Okay, definitely Earth. Worry about how to get home, right now you can go back and kick the little creep's butt later, and make him tell you how you got here... "Where in Nevada?"
"About sixty miles fro m Reno gimme my Piece! "
"Reno, Reno," she said unconcernedly, rocking back on her heels. "I'm really bad at geography..." She shrugged, then smiled brightly at him. "I guess you'll just have to take me. "
"Take you where?"
"To a phone, for starters."
"A phone? What's a phone?"
She sighed, blowing an errant strand of hair from her face. That's the problem with shape shifting. My hair never comes out right. And now the man doesn't know what a phone is, which is just a bad sign, so either the 'mage' found a way to twiddle with time as well as space, or this guy's a lot dumber than I think he is. Just bloody fantastic . "To... to someone who's good at inventing things," she said finally. "Everyone knows someone like that, right? Take me to yours."
"And then you'll give me back my Piece?"
She nodded slowly. "What's your name?"
"Pete Hutter. I "
"Well, Pete, nice to meet you," she interrupted. "You and I are going to be very close for a while."
He was silent for a moment, weighing his options carefully; she could tel l when he finally decided on the 'play along for now and take her out later' approach, and thought she ought to nip that in the bud.
"One more thing, before I give you back your Piece " She grabbed his collar and pulled him up, Shifting until her hand in his shirt was little more than claw and sinew and her face, inches from his own, was a black demonic wall of sharply pointed teeth. "If you're thinking of shooting me, Don't ," she slavered, and hi s body shook with the sound, her voice gone deep and harsh with the Shift. "I would be... annoyed."
With one movement she dropped him, popped back to her smaller, prettier, less threatening and more human form, and handed him his gun by t he barrel.
He took the gun, caressed it lovingly for a moment ("It's okay, baby, Daddy's here," he murmured) before making a great show of placing it back into the holster.
Very nice, but I still don't trust you, she thoug ht, looking her reluctant companion up and down. Standing, he was taller than she, wiry and rangy. He held himself warily, cautiously, with a certain set of the shoulders that she recognized as the result of perpetual distrust. He watched her, too, as this evaluation went on, and she began to feel as though she was being observed by a vaguely psychotic, mustachioed hawk.
She allowed herself a look around, noting exactly where he was as she turned her back.
There was a noise just on the edge of hearing, the faintest whisper of metal and leather.
A knife appeared in her hand for a split second.
The blade sprouted from a nearby tree, taking Pete's arm with it. He yelped, his sleeve pinned solidly to the rough bark, and turned so that it was no longer twisted painfully around behind him.
Zagthar stepped toward him, tsk ing slowly. "I told you, Pete. Don't ." She reached for the gun that hung from his hand, and he twitched it to ward her dangerously.
"Nobody touches Pete's Piece," he told her in a soft deadly voice, velvet over sharp steel.
He had moved between her and the precious weapon, and she reached around him slowly, past the gun to the k nife handle. After a moment's tugging it slid loose, sending her staggering back a step before she regained her balance.
Pete glared at her, the barrel of his piece wandering toward her seemingly of its own volition as he checked the damage to his cuff. There was a thin line along his wrist, where tiny beads of red had formed.
"Sorry," said Zagthar, leaning in to inspect it. "That was sloppy. It was only supposed to hit your sleeve."
She had stepped too close, and s uddenly found herself whirled around, held around her neck with his gun barrel in her ribs.
"You a religious person?" he asked.
How many times do you have to be taught? She asked silently, sighing. "I warned you.&q uot;
With very little notice, Pete's gun was knocked aside by the sudden explosion of solid flesh as his prisoner became a twelve foot tall great hulking beast, heavily muscled and batwinged, with foot long claws and four extra arms.
Pete let go . Quickly. And by the time he had aimed his gun for the creature's head
it was the girl again, short and soft and fragile looking, breathing a little heavily. Only by now, Pete knew better than to trust the grin beneath the wild reddish brown hair.
"I'll quit trying to kill you, if you'll quit trying to kill me," she offered. "There's really no reason for it."
He watched her for a moment longer, then spat unceremoniously on the ground. "Can you always do t hat?"
"It's a bit tiring, but yes."
He spat again. "You ever think of a career in the liberation of capital and the trade of unusual objects in an unfriendly environment?"
She took a moment to work this out. "Y ou mean bank robbing and bootlegging?" she asked incredulously, shading her eyes with her hand.
"I prefer to think of it as creating jobs and aiding local growth."
This, too, took a moment, then, cautiously, "Are you offering me a cut?"
"You'd seem to have a certain criminal turn of mind," he said, and spat. "Plus you'd be a hell of a diversion."
She was shocked. "You are offering me a cut!"
He cocked his head a b it, a noncommittal gesture completely out of keeping with the gleeful expression on his face. "More like a temporary alliance."
Zagthar thought about this, and shrugged. "Okay. Call me Meg." I still don't trust you, you little weasel --she looked at him again, sidelong but what the hell. This could be fun. "Now how do we get out of here?"
He whistled in answer, and a horse trotted obediently from behind a nearby outcropping. " There's a town about ten miles back, where we can get a horse for you."
"And how did you put it liberate some capital?"
He climbed fluidly into the saddle and swung her up behind him. "Nah. We're gonna rob the bank." This really could be fun, she thought, grinning wickedly and holding on as he wheeled the horse around.
***
"We just walk in and take the money?"
Spit . "Aside from an occasional dra matic swoonin' or would-be hero."
"No guards, no alarms?"
"The guards won't be a problem... and no one'll have the opportunity to raise an alarm."
Zagthar just stared at him, slightly shocked. "Where's the challe nge?"
Pete shrugged again, very expressively. "The bank itself isn't the fun... it's the plannin', and then the pursuit." There was a certain glitter in his eye when he looked at her. "And there's always the occasional would-b e hero. Spices up everyone's life, a good bank robbery."
She watched his face for a moment more before the words What the hell! appeared in her mind for about the hundredth time since she'd met this man. She leaned over the map, suddenly eager. "Okay. What's the plan?"
"I'll cover the guards and the patrons, in case anyone gets any ideas. And you... you ask the man behind the counter for the money, and you change your pretty face so that he don't recogniz e you."
"Just that? Can I at least show some tooth, scare him a little?"
"Absolutely. Are you ready?"
"Let's go."
The bank was relatively deserted when they arrived; only two or three customers in the rough wooden building. Zagthar fixed her face--a little longer nose, a twisted lip and a heavy scar down from her temple--and turned to Pete. "Would you recognize me?"
"Nope." he said, and spat.
Zagthar walked in first-- And everyone turned to stare at the scarred woman in the skintight black jumpsuit. She got in line, aware of Pete coming in and closing the door behind him. When it was her turn--the other patrons having quickly found something better to do than b e stared back at by her--she pulled the extra gun Pete had lent her and said, "All of it, Mac. Right now, and find a good-size sack to put it in."
He hesitated, and she showed her teeth, let her eyes glow just the faintest bit red.
& quot;I said now, Mac."
A noise behind her indicated that the guard had been roused to action and subsequently taken care of by Pete, and she smiled, showing more teeth.
The teller--who was a nice guy and didn't feel he deserved to be robbed by some shark-toothed demon-woman--gulped and started filling the bag. It only took a moment, then Zagthar and Pete were out the door, Pete onto his own horse and Zagthar onto the next one that had been hitched there.
A shout from behind them calle d out the town, and there were shots fired, hoofbeats from behind them as they made their escape; but they had a head start and there was rocky ground convenient, and they lost their pursuers without too much difficulty.
Zagthar jumped down when the coast was clear, leaning against her commandeered transportation in breathless laughter. "Oh, you're right. That was fun. Can we do it again?"
"Not 'til the next town," he told her. "An' we gotta get you some regular clo thes; y'stand out too much in that thing."
"Fine. But can I have pants, please? The dresses those women were wearing can't have been easy to ride in."
"I think we can find pants. Lemme see the take."
"Here.& quot; She handed him the sack, realized she was still holding the bank-robber face and relaxed. "I think I don't even need to change my face, though--the teeth and the eyes seem to be enough to generate the proper fear."
"They'll be lookin' for the person they see. You gotta decide whether that's you or someone that don't exist." He looked at the money a little longer, then stowed it in his saddlebag and stepped back up into the saddle.
Zagthar had to admire the ease w ith which he mounted the horse; his legs just tossed him up with no apparent effort.
She got onto her own horse--with a significant amount of effort--and wheeled to follow his. "Where to now?"
"We're gonna see an inventor. Nam e's Wickwire. He's insane, but you wanted an inventor."
"Okay. Which way?"
"West."
"Let's ride."
***
They backed slowly out of the bank, guns steady on the customers and their extra hands full of b ags of money, watching for anyone who might be troublesome.
Ka click.
"Hiya, Pete," came a voice from the street. "Didn't we leave you dead last time?"
"Barisco County Junior," Pete drawled, slowly turning around. "Still spendin' your time inhibitin' the expansion of free trade?"
"Still catchin' thieves, if that's what you mean, Hutter," came another voice, deeper. "And since when did you start workin' with girls?&qu ot;
The sneer in the voice, the lascivious suggestion, was too much for Zagthar. She missed Pete's reply as she deliberately turned to look at the speaker.
The street was pretty clear save for herself and Pete and the three across the way. One of them was a woman in a long dress and a hat that obscured her half bowed head; Zagthar immediately tagged her as an unlikely threat and moved on. To her right was a man in tan pants and jacket, low hat and five o'clock shadow that looked to be a pe rmanent fixture. He was tall and solid, well built
Except in comparison with the other man, who was huge. He stood on the other side of the girl, dark skinned, earringed, and currently holding a very large gun. She decided that this must have b een the owner of the second voice, and she smiled, showing teeth.
"What's your name, little man?" she said quietly.
He ignored the obvious affront. "Lord Bowler," he told her, confirming that it had, indeed, been his voice. "Put your hands up. You're under arrest."
"I wouldn't do that if I was you, Bowler," Pete offered, but it was too late.
Knives appeared in Zagthar's hand and left before anyone could react the first one knocked Bowler's gun away, the second one sent Brisco's spinning, and the third was aimed for the big black face that had sneered at her.
A hand appeared, catching the knife by the blade and stopping it half an inch from Bowler's nose. Blood dripped down to mix with t he dust in the street as everyone stared openmouthed at the girl who stood between Brisco and Bowler, and in the sudden shocked silence her words rang like a bell. "Damn. I never could manage to catch 'em by the handles."
Zagthar did a double take through her anger. "What the "
The girl raised her head, pushed her hat back off wild brown curls with her forearm, and consequently got blood from her slashed hand all over the front of her dress. Green eyes twinkled merri ly above a slightly pained, more than just slightly demented grin. "Hiya, Zag. Tell me you've got a way off this rock."
"Kaina ?"
"Just now it's Kate just to make things easier on everyone involved. Spell ing seems to be a matter of personal taste here."
Zagthar nodded understandingly. "Meg," she said.
"Gone back to the old standby? Good for you. At least it's comfortable."
Suddenly everyone else shook themselves, a nd Zagthar and Pete found recovered guns pointed at them again. "You're still under arrest," said Brisco.
'Kate' stepped between them all. "Can we leave the guns alone for a moment, and just go somewhere to talk? I'd be very, very ticked off if suddenly any of you people were dead." She glanced at Pete, briefly, and amended, "Okay, I don't know you, but if you died it'd probably tick off Meg, and then someone else would die, and it wouldn't be pretty, so let's don't, alright?"
She managed to get hesitant nods from most of them--mostly with hooded glares and mutterings along the lines of, "for now."
"Good. Here's your knife back, Zag--" She pulled her arm back to throw...
"Don't!" said Zagthar, from s omewhere about shin level. "Just...just hand me the knife, okay?"
Pete, who had been unceremoniously dragged down with her, levered himself up on his elbows and spat. "What did ya do that for?"
"Same reason those two hit the ground," she murm ured, nodding at the other two men, who had also dropped when Kaina had made to toss her the knife. She gratefully accepted it from her friend... as long as it wasn't thrown. "Kaina's prowess with a throwing knife is legendary."
"Really?"
"Yea h. She hasn't got any." The four started to pick themselves up off of the various bits of street they had hit. "Not the slightest iota, in fact. She's deadly with a blaster, but whatever you do, don't give her a throwing knife."
"I'll remember t hat."
"Do. You'll live longer." Zagthar turned to her friend, smiling. "So where do you want to talk?"
***
Eventually after Kaina had finally gotten them to agree to not kill each other immediately, and they had taken care of the sher iff who had arrived rather belatedly (seeming, at least to Zagthar, rather annoyed that they hadn't left soon enough and he'd therefore been forced to actually take action) the men were all sitting peaceably, if not entirely at ease, around a table whi le Zagthar helped Kaina bandage up her hand over in a corner.
"You know, that wouldn't happen if you didn't get in the way when I throw a knife," Zagthar told her, during a break in the men's conversation (on which they were busily eavesd ropping--so far it was a lot of insults and threats, but that was just the testosterone talking. They'd get to something interesting soon, Kaina felt sure).
"It also wouldn't happen if I'd learn to catch properly, Meg. Or, for that matter, if you wouldn't try to kill my friends. You know I hate it when you do that."
"Well, if your friends weren't so insulting..."
"Well, if you hadn't been robbing the bank..." She pinned the tail of the bandage in place and flexed the damaged hand. "That ought to hold. Hurts like hell, but it ought to be okay. So have you got a way off this rock? Come to that, how'd you get on this rock?"
"Stupid target that had more resou rces than I thought. I don't know what toys he had, to be able to send me spinning back through time, but I want one of my own. How'd you get here?"
"Me? I've been here two bloody years, already. Transport malfunctioned, and here I wa s. Couldn't ever get it fixed, either. Brisco " she nodded to the table "attracts more strange phenomena than anyone else in history, I think. I figure if I'm gonna get home, It's gonna be 'cause I stuck close to him until some weird pow er floated back."
"You mean the human chin over there?"
Kaina stifled a laugh. "Yeah, the human chin. He's a good guy, though. You'd like him if he hadn't tried to kill you. Bowler, too."
"I've heard that on e before. Oh, Zagthar, you'd like me if I hadn't tried to kill you..." She made a face. "Uh-uh."
"Quit complaining. You tried to kill me, and we've been the best of friends ever since."
Zagthar's response was a snort of something approaching derision.
Kaina nodded to Pete. "So how'd you get involved with Hutter? Brisco and Bowler have lots of stories about him."
"He, uh, he..." Zagthar searched for a proper explanation, and co uldn't find one. "Okay, he tried to kill me. But it wasn't anything personal."
"Oh, that's so much better --"
The voices at the other table had gotten steadily louder, and Kaina broke off when all three men suddenly stood, hands on their pistols.
Kaina and Zagthar looked at each other, sighed, and stood as well.
"I'm callin' you out, Bowler," Pete was saying.
The girls stepped into the middle of the group, separating the me n. "What's the problem, Pete?" asked Zagthar, while Kaina asked the same of Brisco and Bowler.
"I was just askin' Pete why he'd all of a sudden started runnin' with girls."
There was a telltale glint of red in Zagthar's eye. "Didn't I show you before that I can be... useful?"
"Yeah, Pete said somethin' about your 'special talents'--"
Kaina stepped between the big bounty hunter and the smaller (for now) assassin. "Let it go, Bowler. Just t rust me on this one--she does have special skills, and you don't want to see them. In fact, you don't want them used anywhere near you, and if you don't quit making comments like that, she'll use them, and there won't be enough left of y ou to fill a cigar box, understand?"
She pushed him slowly back toward the wall as she spoke, until he bumped into it on the last word. "And if you really want to know what kind of special skills she has," Kaina continued, jabbing a finger into the man's chest, "remember who kept you from getting a permanent nose job... and keep in mind that she's a lot more talented than I am."
Lord Bowler was speechless for what was probably the first time in his life.
In the su dden silence, Zagthar's voice could be heard quietly saying, "Oh, Pete ... You defended my honor. That was so sweet...."
As one, everyone turned to look at Pete.
Pete Hutter... was blushing.
"Pete, are you okay?&qu ot; Brisco asked uncertainly, while Kaina turned to Zagthar. "Meg, what have you done to the poor man?"
"Nothing! I only told him he was sweet, I mean, nobody ever defended my honor before." She paused, then, "Well, nobod y but me, anyway."
"If you ever met people who you weren't assigned to kill--or who weren't trying to kill you--they might, ever think of that?"
"What the--" Brisco began, and Zagthar cut him off.
"No-one in yo ur jurisdiction, bounty hunter." There was a slight twitch at the last two words, almost as though she were going for a weapon, but cut abruptly off. Zagthar wasn't fond of bounty hunters... unless there was plenty of ketchup.
"Anyway,&q uot; said Kaina, overriding the rising tempers. "Look, all I want is to get home, okay? Please? So if we could get a little help here, Meg and I will get out of your hair, and you can go back to your little cops and robbers game, okay?"
Three pairs of masculine eyes were suddenly riveted on her, while Zagthar laughed.
"What?" she said defiantly. "I mean it. I want off this rock! Now has anyone got any ideas?"
There was a long silence, then Zagthar said , "Pete and I were going to find someone who might help... oh, drat. What was his name again, Pete?"
"Wickwire," said Pete, still watching Kaina. He spat to the side. "Professor Wickwire."
"Wickwire!" sai d Brisco and Bowler together.
She looked back and forth between them. "Okay, what's the story?"
"Of course, Wickwire!
"Am I missing something here?"
"Professor Wickwire--you'll like him. He can build just ab out anything."
"So all this time, you never told me about him?"
"Uh... sorry."
Kaina sighed. "So where is he, and how long to get there?"
"A few days, maybe a week."
"Great." She picked up her hat and jammed it on her head. "When do we leave?"
***
They camped that night by the trail, Pete setting his bedroll on one side of the fire and the bounty hunters on the other. Zagthar set hers out near Pete's, Kaina un rolled hers right next to Lord Bowler's.
"So what's the story with you and Bowler?" Zagthar asked, when the two of them had taken a few moments for 'girl things.'
Kaina looked perplexed. "What story?"
"Oh, yeah, w hat story. You're sleeping awfully close to him, 'Kate.'"
"Oh, that. Okay, here's the 'story'--sleeping next to Bowler is even warmer than sleeping next to the fire... and a heck of a lot safer than sleeping next to Brisco."
&quo t;Uh-huh," said Zagthar, packing a good three pages worth of innuendo into two syllables.
"Uh-huh," echoed Kaina, making it a simple declarative and leaving out the innuendo entirely. "And while we're on the subject, what's with you and Pete?"
"Nothing," she said distantly. "He's a lot of fun."
It was Kaina's turn to employ the innuendo. "Uh-huh."
"Oh, just shut up and go to bed."
***
"Are we almost there?&qu ot; Kaina asked, for about the tenth time.
"No," said Brisco finally. "Just be patient, will ya?"
"Are you kidding? I've finally got a chance to make it home, and you're asking me to be patient?"
"It'll be a couple more hours. Just hang on. And what are you laughing about?" he demanded, turning to Bowler, whose low chuckle had insinuated itself under the conversation.
"You," said Bowler, unabashed.
"Can't we go any faster?&qu ot;
"Not without killing the horses."
"--And her," added Bowler, still chuckling.
Zagthar and Pete exchanged silent glances, watching the squabbling ahead of them with barely controlled laughter.
***
"There it is. Are you happy? There."
"Yes." Kaina spurred her horse into a gallop, and reached the old shed long before any of the others. She was fidgeting, waiting at the door when they pulled up. "He's not here!"
They swu ng, jumped, or slid down from their horses, according to personal preference. "What do you mean, he's not here? He's always here!" said Brisco.
"Well, he's not here now, and it doesn't look like he left voluntarily. The place is a mess."
Bowler snorted. "That's just Wickwire. The place is always a mess--" The words broke off into a whistle as he went through the door, which was hanging skewed on bent hinges. "This place is a mess." They spread out wordlessly, looking for anything useful; simultaneous shouts went up from Bowler and Zagthar. "Looks like they went this way," called Bowler, looking at a bit of broken scrub.
"I read it as north," said Zagtha r, crouching by dimples in the sand.
The big man shook his head. "East. The wagons say east."
"The horses say north."
"They went--" He broke off as Pete stepped into the middle of the argument.
"Why don't we just split up, then? It'll be a lot more convivial than us travelin' together, that's for sure!"
"Fine!"
"Good! And after we get the professor--"
"--You mean after we get the professor, ' cause the wagon's a dead end--"
Brisco and Kaina exchanged glances, then stepped in next to Pete. "We'll split up," said Brisco. "First group that finds the professor gets him and brings him back here."
"Great!&qu ot;
"Fine!"
"Bloody marvelous," muttered Kaina, wondering which group she was going to go with.
Her question answered itself as she mounted up, then dismounted again as her horse took a few limping steps. "What's w rong?"
Brisco slid down and took a look--the hoofprints left in the sand bore traces of red, and he lifted the hoof. "She's picked up a stone," he said. He took a moment to get the tools from his saddlebag and remove it, but pronoun ced that it had torn up the hoof pretty badly.
Kaina crossed her arms, looking at the horse, then said, "Fine. You guys go get Wickwire. I'll see to things here--clean up a bit, and get started trying to get home."
Zagthar looked dow n at her friend in concern. "You could ride with me...?"
"I'd slow you down, if we were riding double." Her voice got quiet, then, as she looked up. "Go get him, Zag. Bring him back, so we can both go home."
Zagt har stayed a moment longer, to give Kaina a chance to change her mind, then rode off to follow the trail.
Left to herself, Kaina stabled and rubbed down the horse, had a look at the professor's workshop and straightened up a bit... and then paced, r esolving to arrange to have what was left of her transport shipped out just as soon as she could get to town and send a wire.
***
"They definitely came this way," said Zagthar, remounting her horse.
"It's gettin' dark," P ete said. "Best make camp now, while we can still see a little bit, anyway."
"But they'll be going on--"
"Nobody rides at night in these parts, less'n they want to really find out what they're made of. 'Cause the buzza rds'll show you all the different bits and pieces." He pulled down his saddlebags. "We'll camp here."
"You think I'm not a good enough shot to handle it?"
"I think no matter how much you shoot at a ravine, yer stil l gonna fall down it and expire if you don't see it in time."
She thought about it, mutely, and decided that she didn't want to find out if she was good enough to morph in midair into something that could not only fly, but also hold up a horse . She pulled down her bedroll while Pete disappeared for a few minutes, saying something vague about firewood.
Later, after the fire was banked and they'd finished dinner--a couple of snakes who'd been too territorial for their own good--Zagthar la y back and watched the starry canopy overhead.
She had known them, when she was on Earth before...or when she would be on Earth later... or-- bloody temporal vocabulary. I hate this.
She had known the stars, but she hadn't seen them like this for a long time--when she had been on Earth, there was light everywhere, and the ones in the sky couldn't be seen much, but here... here the heavens shone, the Milky Way glittering in long lacy strands...
"Pete?"
" ;Yeah?" came the voice from the other side of the fire.
"If you could have anything in the world, just by asking for it, what would you have?"
He considered a moment in thoughtful silence. "Enough money to buy everything else. "
She levered herself up on one elbow. "That's cheating."
"Yeah?" A short pause, and the tone of his voice indicated he was smiling. "I'm a thief. I ain't above cheatin.'"
"Ok, if you were asking fo r a ransom, then, what would it be?"
"Why are you so interested all of a sudden?"
"Just curious."
"Last time it was a million dollars, immunity, and an air screw."
"Did you get it?"
"I got a Chinese Death Star in the back. Won't be askin' fer one o' those..."
She suppressed a chuckle at the image this conjured up, then, "An air screw? What's an air screw?"
There was a slight rustling from his bedroll, and Pete sat up, firelight gilding his hair with red and gold as it swung across his face. He handed her a piece of paper. "This."
It had obviously seen a lot of wear. She unfolded it carefully, leaning over to let the faded diagram catch the l ight. "You keep it with you?"
A slight sound from across the way might have been a shrug, but when she looked he was just regarding her impassively.
She looked back at the illustration, running it through in her mind.... "Oh, Pet e," she said softly. "This won't work."
Spit . "That was designed by the great Renaissance artist Leonairdo da Vinci, Meg. And you say it won't work?"
"It won't, Pete. You'd never be able to get it to turn fast enough."
"So yer sayin' we won't ever fly?"
"Oh, you'll fly all right. But not in this."
A small silence, and when he spoke again his voice had an almost dreamlike quality, stripped of some of its customa ry flatness. "I'd like to fly..."
"Someday, Pete. Someday," she murmured.
Pete lay back down. She wasn't sure whether he'd heard her or not, but she didn't want to ask.
Zagthar rolled over to get some sleep.
She was almost there, drifting on the shores of consciousness, when she heard his voice again.
"What would you ask for? Since we're in an inquirin' mood."
She thought a moment, synapses firing sluggishly as she dragged herself back to conscio usness. "Home," she said finally. "Anything else I want, I can get... if I can get home."
"An' where's home, exactly?"
Her breath caught, and she was suddenly wide awake.
He'd never asked--at first, it was pre sumably because of the tension, since he was still trying to kill her in his own lazy, desultory way, and then... well, it had ceased to be important, really.
To her. Obviously he had other ideas.
"I should have expected this, actually,&qu ot; she said. "I'd hoped we were past it, but--no. I never stopped expecting it, not really. And you deserve the truth."
"Yer from farther away than just time, aren't you?"
Quietly: "Uh-huh."
"Where?&qu ot;
She stood, walked over and sat down next to him. Waved her arm at the sky. "Out there. It's not up right now, or I could point it out for you."
"You've been to the stars..."
Almost inaudibly, a mere modulation of a small sigh, she said again, "Uh-huh."
"What's it like?"
She drew her knees up and hugged them, looked down at him in the faint flickering firelight. "It's... beautiful. You'd like it. And there are so many treasures t o see... so many different planets to rob...."
He laughed, almost more of a snort, and sat up to look at her. Sure enough, the now-familiar wicked grin sat there, looking just the faintest bit wistful, but there nonetheless. "I s'pose yo u've robbed most of them?"
Zagthar shook her head. "Just the ones where I found myself a little low on cash. There's still scores of 'em I haven't robbed. I mean, have you robbed every town you've come across?"
"Nearly,&qu ot; he said, "I--"
She held up a hand, making frantic "Keep talking and don't ask me what I'm doing" motions as she stood silently.
"--I never find too much in the little provincial banks, so I keep going..."
"Was it fun, though?" she said overloudly, creeping around the rocks. "You rob too many of 'em, and then there's nowhere new to go if you get bored."
He heard it too, now--a little rustling, off behind him; the sound of someone t rying not to be heard, but unfortunately making a hole in the wind--and he stood as well, his hand drifting toward his Piece. "Ah, there's always someplace you can rob if all you want to do is escape the ennui..."
She moved like light, s pringing over the rocks in an incredible leap, and Pete watched, distracted by the maneuver.
There was a sound from behind the rocks, like cloth ripping, then a thump, followed by a series of thumps--a body, falling. "Are you--"
And a gun at Pete's temple, a hand reaching around from behind to relieve him of his Piece. Pete started to shake. "Nobody--" he began.
He was cut off. "Johnny, that you?" called a masculine voice by his ear.
"Not quite,&quo t; came the reply from the other side of the rocks. "Johnny's a bit... tied up, just now..."
"Come out with your hands up," the man called again. "I've got Hutter."
"I know you," said Pet e. "Eli Banks, isn't it? Thought you could collect the bounty on me? Thought you could get away with touchin' m'Piece?!"
"Shut up," the man said mercilessly, bruising Pete with the tip of his gun. "I can col lect on you dead or alive, Hutter...." He raised his voice again, to carry over the boulders. "So come on out! Or Hutter's dead!"
"Coming," she called sweetly, and Pete's heart sank... Until he heard a whoosh from the othe r side, the sound of something moving faster than the air could accommodate, and remembered...
Pete Hutter smiled, and he set himself, waiting for the least opportunity. "That'd be yer brother she dropped, Eli. He never was quite as good as y ou, was he? And now you gotta try to keep me by yerself, and it ain't gonna be easymmmrph," he said, breaking off as the man's arm snaked around his neck and tightened.
"Johnny'll be fine," he hissed. "But I'd like to get your girl, too--she's got to be worth something."
"Think again."
The dark form exploded from behind the rocks, a shadow impossibly large against the sky, almost larger than the boulder it had been behind; and the fireli ght barely outlined features from beyond Dante's worst nightmares.
Eli cried out in surprise and fear, moved the gun from Pete's temple--
--and Pete was ready, his elbow moving back like lightning into the man's breastbone, and Eli grunted as hi s prisoner turned, delivering a haymaker with devastating accuracy.
The gun went off wildly, three shots splitting the night as Eli fell senseless. Pete scooped up his Piece and kicked the bounty hunter's gun into the scrub with one fluid motion. There was a cry and a heavy thud behind him, and he turned--
Meg lay on the ground, struggling to sit up, in the same demon-form she'd used when she first met Pete. But now the firelight gleamed wetly off her side, and her hands were dark. &quo t;Um... Pete?" she said, and it was Meg's voice, strained with pain, rather than the evil snarl she usually used when in this form.
He was there in a moment, helping her sit up and supporting her with an arm around her waist. "How bad--&qu ot;
"Only gut-shot, Pete," she managed, in slightly hysterical half-laughter. "Hold on--"
Her face screwed up with concentration and she grabbed his free hand and squeezed--
Later, when they were telling Kaina about this, Pete avowed that it was easily the strangest thing he'd ever felt--feeling the muscles and bones bunch up and twist; the skin go from feeling like animate sprung steel to feeling like human skin, slightly warmer than normal; and then to have this girl sitting there, small and hurt, in his arms.
That was later, however--now he just concentrated on making no noise as the bones in his hand ground together; on not losing his mind as his hands and arms fed his brain information that it wasn't ready t o handle.
And it was Meg again, the face he'd gotten used to, looking up at him white-faced and trembling. "Ow." She took a deep breath, then forced a smile. "Couldn't very well go to a doctor like that, could I?"
"Ar e you sure you can move?"
She tried to grin, pain etching her face. "I'm not gonna hang around waiting for them to wake up, that's for sure--we're only about three miles outside that last town, Pete. I can make it." Something to be said for blasters, anyway--there's not so much blood. She looked down at herself, suddenly realizing that the jumpsuit had also been torn in the struggle. "My... My shirt, and my pants... they're behind the rock, could n't Shift in 'em..."
Pete got her clothing from the other side of the boulder, noting with approval the expertly done knots around the unconscious blond bounty hunter. He liberated the saddlebags from the horses tethered there, investigated w hen one of them sloshed promisingly, and handed the resultant nearly-full bottle of whisky to Meg. "Drink this. It'll help. I'll have you to the doc in a minute," he said, cutting a long strip from a stolen blanket and binding it tightly a round her waist.
She took a gulp, gasped as the stuff burned its way across her synapses, and watched Pete as she took another long drag.
He moved with incredible efficiency--had their gear packed and stowed within about twenty seconds, went bac k to her, stopped, smacked Eli across the temple with the butt of his Piece once more just to make sure, and helped her stand.
She cried out, a little whimper, followed by breathless pained laughter. "Never been shot by one of these before... Uh-uh," she said, looking at her horse. "I'm not gonna--aaack--not gonna make it on my own horse. I'll fall off."
So he helped her onto his horse, swung up behind her and settled his arms on either side of her so he could maneuver t he reins, and tied the reins of her horse to his saddlehorn.
The trip back was slow--he urged the horse as fast as he dared, trying to strike a balance between speed and hurting her, and he could still hear her breath catch with every step as she b it down on the pain.
Zagthar slugged back some more whisky, then leaned back until his chest and arm cradled her. Gritting her teeth agaist the jarring, she let her head fall back against his shoulder.
The town slept. Almost all of it, in fact ; nobody was about except for a few drunks, and those were mostly catatonic.
Fortunately, though, the doctor's office wasn't too hard to find, and Pete slid off the horse long enough to pound on the door. "Come on, you imbecile..." he murmured to the night, his voice gradually raising to a shout. "Somebody needs yer services!" Dimly he realized he was leaving dark smears on the glass window, but he just pounded again until the pane rattled in its setting, until the entire door shook.
Until a light appeared within, carried by an elderly woman who looked like she was gearing up for a good shout. She opened the door, taking a deep breath.
Click . Pete's Piece was in his hand, pointing at the woman, who swallowed the breath and then looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"Get the doc," Pete said, his voice quiet and sharp and very final. "Tell him it's an emergency."
She took him in with a split-second glance--hair disheveled, silver gun, blood sticking his sleeve to his arm, silver gun, blood on his hand and streaked across his cheek, silver gun, and his expression ...
She backed toward the stairs. "Horace!" she yelled, never taking her eyes off of Pete. &q uot;Horace!"
A sleepy reply drifted down after a moment. "What is it, Mother?"
"You've got a patient, dear!"
Footsteps overhead shuffled their way to the stairs.
Pete fired into the ceiling just behi nd the noises, which sped up considerably, then went back outside.
Zagthar had a death grip on the whisky bottle, now severely depleted; the horse's mane trailed limply through her other hand as she swayed slightly in the saddle. "Hi, Pete. I don' feel so good..."
His Piece spun itself into its holster and he put a careful arm around her, slipping the other under her knee.
She slid down toward him bonelessly, catching her breath as she landed in his arms, then melting against him. "Ow."
A young man in glasses and a striped nightshirt waved him to a table as he brought her inside. "What happened?"
"We-- Bandits," lied Pete, setting her carefully on the table. She winced at the contact , curling into a ball around the whisky bottle and the pain. "Bushwhacked us," Pete continued. "She got one of 'em with the frying pan, but the other one shot her."
"Hmm," said Horace, absently raking sleep-spiked hai r away from his face as he moved Pete aside and gently straightened her out. He looked at the bottle, which now sloshed with an echo, and reached to take it out of her hand. "How much of this has she--"
He stopped, suddenly aware of a kn ife in the general region of his manhood.
"Don't," she slurred from the table. "Don' take m'whisky 'way. Holds back th' monsters."
And Pete caught her wrist, took the knife and held on to her hand. "No monsters, Meg. Just the doc. He's here to take care of you. She's had most of it," he continued, turning to the young doctor (who was starting to breathe again). "Enough so I could get her back here, without it killing her..."
Horace shook his head. " ;No monsters, ma'am. I just want to help, but you have to let me see--"
"Help?" She started to laugh and it fell into a gasp. Her head lolled back.
Horace stepped in to have a look.
"Can't help, Pete," she went on. "'m the monster, doncha see? 'S me! Can't help, nobody can help the poor monster..." Her arm came around expansively, and the whisky bottle clanged into the corner of a table and fell, breaking on the floor. "All gone..."
Th e doctor removed the makeshift bandage, grasped the sides of her jumpsuit and yanked, ripping a larger hole around the wound so he had room to work by. He was rewarded by a strangled cry from his patient and the corner-of-the-eye sight of Pete deftly i ntercepting another knife on its way to his vitals.
"Doesn't seem to have hit anything major," he murmured. "Um... could you hold her? It's got to be cleaned... I can't risk giving her anything with so much whisky in her system. An d I'm afraid this is really, really going to hurt."
Pete looked at him for half a second before he gently--but very firmly--took hold of her wrists with one hand, holding her head with the other. "Hold on..."
Horace poured somethi ng vile-smelling over the wound.
The room rocked with her cry--and so did Horace, as she brought her knee around; and so did Pete, who wasn't holding on quite as tightly as he thought he was and consequently caught her fist in his face. Between the m, though, they managed to get her held down so that he could do it again.
Her scream was louder, this time, and her entire body convulsed and then fell limp to the table.
The young doctor wiped his forehead and felt under her jaw, uncomfortably aware of Pete's eyes fixed on his neck. "She's all right," he said after a moment. "Heartbeat not very strong, but she'll live if I can get her sewn up properly."
"She'd better."
Horace wasn't even entirely sure he'd heard the words, they were so soft... until he looked at the man's face.
And gulped.
And started sewing.
There was a row outside, a growing murmur of people dragging themselves out of bed. Pete met them at the door. "Yes?&quo t; he asked, in a tone designed to eliminate further inquiry.
"We... there was a scream," said some brave voice from the back of the crowd.
"The doctor's got it under control," said Pete. "Just a little bit of nighttime trouble."
"But--" started the same voice, then stopped as he realized most of the crowd had taken one look at the man in black and decided that they were just fine with the idea of going back to their own business and the ir own beds.
Pete returned to the table, watching the doctor with dark eyes.
***
The morning light lanced through her eyes straight into her hindbrain, shooting painfully down her spine until her nerves burned with it.
"Somebody tu rn off the damn sun ," she croaked, entirely too loudly.
A shadow moved between her and the window, pulled down the shade so that the light was merely excruciating.
"Good morning," shouted someone.
"Ouch. S hh. Why do I feel like a mashed potato?"
The shadow resolved itself into an extremely fuzzy Pete, bending over her. "Prob'ly has to do with you gettin' yerself perforated," he said more quietly. His hair swung down and brushed her cheek, and she couldn't decide whether she liked it or wanted to kill him for the way it grated against the raw nerves in her skin.
"Perforated?" she asked, deciding not to kill him if only because she couldn't bear the thought of moving. "Wha--"
"Shot. You got yerself shot."
"In my head?"
"In your side."
"Then why is my head falling off?"
"Prob'ly the whisky."
She took a moment to consider this. "Yo u got me drunk?"
He shrugged. "I coulda let you feel every bump in the road, every stitch... but I thought you'd prefer a bit o' catatonia."
She struggled to sit up, then fell back with a groan as the world threatened to swim awa y. "Ow. How many times was I shot?"
"Just one."
"And that did this to me?" She paused, remembering the way the branch had shattered when she'd shot at it with Pete's Piece. "Oh."
The bl ur that she'd decided was Pete moved. She thought it was nodding, but couldn't tell for sure, and she twisted around, trying to bring his face into focus. "I guess I ought to thank you. I'm sure I will, when I've got my own mind back again.&quo t;
"We're gonna wait that long?" he asked dryly, with what slowly resolved itself into a quirked grin.
"Oh, ha ha, very--" she broke off, peering at the purple-black splotches around one eye. "What happened to you?"
"I attempted to restrain a wounded thief while the doctor patched her up. She decked me for it. Got the doc, too," he drawled, the corner of his mouth still quirked.
"Oh, Pete.... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."
"A nd I believe these are yers, too." He held a handful of knives out to her, and she looked at them.
"What the-- that's half my knives, there. What happened?"
"You tried to disembowel him. Repeatedly. Seems it was a bit pain ful."
"Oh, no... Thanks, Pete. We'll have to leave him something before we go," she said, pushing herself up on her elbows.
He pushed her back down. "We ain't goin' nowhere."
"We've got to find Wickwire. What happened to your hand?"
Pete's face twisted slightly in distaste. "Barisco and Bowler can get the Professor."
"Brisco and Bowler? Are you nuts? What happened to your hand?" she asked again.
He glanced down at the li vid bruises there, and lied. "Punched Eli a bit too hard. And yes, Barisco and Bowler."
She looked at him critically, not quite able to decide if he was being honest or not, then shrugged, then wished she hadn't. "Oof. You're gonna trust those two to handle this?"
He pushed her down again. "Stay put."
"I'm okay."
He pushed her down again. "Lie down."
"I'm a fast healer."
He pushed her down again. "We're stayi n'."
"And what happens when the sheriff figures out that you're sitting in the doctor's office, ripe for the picking?"
He froze, halfway through pushing her down again. "I..."
"Right." She cut him off, gri pped his arm, and used it to haul herself wincing into a sitting position. "Ouch."
"Lie back down."
"Make me."
He almost did, then remembered that he'd given her back her knives and decided not to press his luc k. "But yer not goin' into a fight."
The wall behind him hummed. He turned to see his hat neatly pinned to the boards by one of her knives.
"I'm tougher than I look, Pete. Don't tell me I can't fight. Let's go. Where's the doc ?"
"Went to sleep 'long about sunrise. He should sleep for a while yet," said Pete, as he retrieved his hat and examined the holes. "And fixin' my hat is comin' out of your cut, not mine."
"Deal. We'll steal some more." She swung her legs over the side and slid down, going white as her feet hit the floor. Her breath hissed in through clenched teeth. "Did I say 'ow' before?" she said, her voice small and tight.
"Yup."
"Oh. I won't say it again, then." She took a deep breath, and another, waving his tacit offer of assistance away. "Where's my clothes?"
He disappeared through the door, coming back in a moment with a rather battered shirt and pair of tro users. "Here."
He had to help her climb into them, finally, and he kept trying to talk her into staying and resting for a little while longer.
He even went so far as to suggest that he go on in search of Wickwire and pick her up on t he way back.
Two more knife holes in his hat convinced him that she wouldn't be left behind.
They left a significant pile of cash for the slumbering doctor and mounted, Zagthar with some difficulty, and followed the trail north.
***
" ;Brisco, tell me again why it is we're doin' this?" Lord Bowler pushed his hat back, staring across the desert scrub as they rode.
"Wickwire's in trouble, Bowler."
"You sure it don't have somethin' to do with those girls?&quo t;
"They need our help."
They rode in silence for a while, then, "I ain't seen home in a month, Brisco."
"You want to go home, be my guest. I'm going after Wickwire."
"You sure you ain't still sweet on h is daughter?"
"Now don't be silly, Bowler. Nobody's even seen her since the first episode. Why do you always assume there's a girl?"
"'Cause there's always a girl."
"Look, I keep telling you, there's nothing bet ween me and Kate."
"Heh heh. 'Cept for me, when we camp..."
"Nothing happened! I just rolled over in my sleep. It was an accident."
Bowler was grinning. "Almost accidentally got you killed, when she woke up an d you was 'bout on top of her."
"Can we drop this, please? We find Wickwire, and they get home, and my life gets a lot easier--"
Bowler was holding up a hand, reining in his horse. He swung fluidly down from the saddle and look ed at the ground, touching a couple of dimples in the sand. "They went into the canyon," he said quietly. "We ride from here, we get spotted."
"Great." Brisco, too, slid down from his saddle, softly admonished Comet to stay put and stay quiet.
They crept down through the tight canyon walls, keeping the rocks behind them.
Professor Wickwire's familiar voice carried toward them. "You'll never get it to work!"
And an answering voice, low and threa tening: "That's why we have you."
The bounty hunters strained to hear the rest of the conversation... and slowly became aware of harried whispers behind them.
"Let me go in--I'll do the poor little lost girl thing, they'll n ever know what hit 'em!"
"They're not likely to be exactly chivalrous, Meg. They're likely to try to perforate you! Again!"
Brisco and Bowler turned to each other, mouthing, "Pete!"
&quo t;I can handle them," the conversation went on.
"Yer not exactly in top form!"
"They won't suspect me!"
"No, they'll just shoot you!"
"Do you have a better idea, then?"
"Yes," whispered Brisco. He found himself staring down a gun barrel for a moment, then Meg put it away with a glare.
"Good way to get yourself dead, County," she told him. "Nice of you to join the party, though."
"What happened to you?" asked Bowler, looking at the ripped and stained shirt over her black jumpsuit.
"Someone fired a gun and I got in the way. But I'm feeling much better now, thank you . Shall we go get the professor?"
"Yer not goin' in first."
"It's the best way, Pete. They won't expect anything."
"Pete's right, ma'am. They'll just shoot you," said Bowler.
"You think I can't ha ndle it, don't you? You all really think I can't handle it!"
"I know you can," Brisco lied. "But I've got a better idea. I've got some dynamite in my saddlebag; we can create a little distraction."
Ka-click .
"I really, really, really hate that noise," said Meg, as the four of them slowly raised their hands.
A tall, grizzled, unwashed man stepped out from behind the rocks, with a very large gun aimed at them. "Put dow n your weapons," he said, his voice gravelly and unpleasant.
Brisco, Bowler, and Pete carefully lowered their guns to the rocks.
Zagthar sighed. "This could take a while," she said, laying down her gun. "Hope you brought l unch."
Weapon after weapon appeared in her hands, mostly knives, brought from what havens even Pete couldn't tell. They were just suddenly there, and she placed them one by one on the rocks by the gun.
By the time the eighth or ninth one ap peared, all eyes were on her. She brought out small knives and medium knives and very large ones, most of which any of the men would have sworn couldn't possibly have been concealed on her person.
A metal chain slid down among the knives, looking sharp and wicked in a way chains shouldn't.
By the twelfth knife, Pete realized that nobody was watching him at all anymore.
By the fifteenth, the man who had been holding the gun wasn't. He was slowly raising his hands, his eyes crossing in an effort to focus on the barrel of Pete's Piece wavering an inch from his nose.
By the time Brisco and Bowler realized what had happened, turned to look at Pete's new prisoner, and turned back to Zagthar, she was sitting there innocently tossing a s ingle knife. The handle smacked into her hand over and over, sounding very solid, and she grinned at them. The other knives, as well as the chain and the gun, had all vanished.
"Still think I couldn't handle it?"
***
"Help me... please, help me...."
The cry came from outside, pathetic and weak. Big Carl O'Shea, currently guarding what he privately thought of as the mad scientist, stood, gesturing at Wickwire with his gun. "Don't get any funny ideas," he said, walking softly toward the door.
Wickwire nodded, bent over his table, and started muttering as he slowly assembled small bits of metal into a bigger bit of metal. "Obviously he knows nothing of the scientific mind. Nothing but funny ideas, my boy." A wire snapped under light pressure, and he started again with a new one--then straightened up a bit, a manic smile on his face. "I ought to booby-trap his chair."
Outside, O'Shea found a huddled, bloody feminine sha pe on the desert floor, an arrow sticking out from her shoulder. He gave her a tentative nudge with his toe.
She shuddered and cried out wordlessly, tone speaking of agony and overexposure.
Big Carl laughed, kicked her over. "Hey, Cobra!&q uot; he called over his shoulder. She screamed as the arrow hit the ground and bent, tearing farther into her abused muscles.
(Cobra Miller, who had been on watch up in the rocks, worked furiously at the ropes that held him, chewed at the gag. But Bowler's knots were strong, and there was nothing he could do about them.)
"Look what the cat dragged up! Not much left in her, but we could have some fun, eh?"
Something solid impacted into his gut, and he looked down to see a knife handle protruding from the vicinity of his navel. "What--" he said, before his eyes glazed over and he crumpled to the sand.
"Mind how you treat a lady," said Zagthar, and retrieved her knife. Brisco slipped out from behind t he rocks and helped her drag him behind the little shed.
"You weren't supposed to kill him."
"He's not dead. If he doesn't get help in time, that's his problem. You heard him, Brisco--he wasn't talking about dinner and a movie.&q uot;
"What's a movie?" A birdlike whistle split the air, and Brisco answered in kind. "They've got the other sentry," he said.
"A movie is... oh, forget it. I'm not going to feel sorry for him."
He shrugged. "Now we've just got to figure out who was behind it."
"Yippy."
They left O'Shea there, returning around the corner of the shack. Pete was there, having gotten to the door first; he slipped inside, gun ready for trouble--
And got a chair broken over his head. Pete dropped like the proverbial poleaxed steer, and his assailant, a shortish man with grey hair and moustache, stepped around him, grinning.
Brisco caught Zagthar's arm before she released the knife. " ;That's Wickwire. He's just a bit surprised."
Her eyes narrowed, but she refrained from killing anyone, stepping over to Pete's prone form instead.
"Brisco!" said the professor, with a broad grin. "Nice to see you!"
"Hi, Professor. Did you have to break the chair over his head?"
"Don't tell me you're working with him again."
"Only temporarily. We have, ah, a couple of friends who need your help." He grinned again--a happy, exuberant, and almost completely unhinged grin. "Happy to oblige, Brisco. Mind getting me out of here, though?"
"That's why were here. Oh, Professor, this is Meg--"
"Pleased," she sai d curtly from the floor by Pete, sounding anything but.
"Brisco, you ready to get outta here?" Bowler's voice from the door made Zagthar look up. The big bounty hunter had a weaselly slack-faced man--using the term loosely, she grinned--s lung over his shoulder. "Minor bounties on these three. No sign of the leader."
"He was the leader," said Wickwire. "At least, he led the other two. I never saw anybody else."
"Then this is it. Let's--" He stopped, looking down. "What happened to Hutter?"
"I hit him with the chair," said Wickwire with a broad and somehow apologetic smile. "Sorry."
Zagthar, against all her better judgment, was finding herself likin g the man. She shook her head, bending over Pete, and smacked his cheeks a couple of times. "Come on, Pete. Time to go."
He caught her hand after the first few slaps. "Any partic'ler reason you're beating up on a dead man?" he asked, eyes still closed.
"You're not dead, Pete. It's time to go."
"What hit me?"
"A chair."
"Is whoever was holding it deceased now?"
"No, I'm fine," said Wickwire imprudently.
Pete's arm moved in a blur, his Piece resting against the Professor's kneecap as he cautiously opened one eye. "You."
"Let it go, Pete. He thought you were one of the bad guys," said Brisco.
"Yeah, and h e'd 'a been right, too, nine times out o' ten. You guys ready to ride?"
"Yeah," said Pete, without moving his Piece. "Let's ride."
"You, ah... you could move the gun, now, Pete," said the Professor carefully. "Really, I'm sorry about the chair...."
"Come on, Pete... He gets me home, you get to go back to a normal life. Isn't that what you wanted?" Meg asked, gently cajoling. "You shoot him, I'm stuck here forever. And you kno w how I get when I'm upset."
Brisco gaped slightly, watching the expressions cross Pete's face... fear was definitely in there somewhere, and an odd sort of... wistfulness? Brisco closed his mouth abruptly, noticed that Bowler's f ace mirrored his own expression, and nudged him with an elbow.
Pete holstered his piece and allowed himself to be helped up, weaving a bit on his way outside. "But don't touch m'Piece!" he admonished the Professor on his way out, and Meg, on whom he was leaning, shrugged slightly as they passed.
Brisco, Bowler, and Wickwire hung back a moment, watching the two of them. "Where'd he get the girl?" asked Wickwire.
"The future," said Brisco.
&qu ot;--Of course," said Bowler.
"Again?" asked Wickwire.
"Again. And there's something about those two together...." Brisco let his voice trail off, then shook himself and headed to the door.
"What?" asked Bowler.
"I just never thought of Pete with a girl, that's all."
"Nice girl, though."
The two bounty hunters turned and just looked at Wickwire.
"What'd I say?"
***
They stopped at the fi rst town, and Brisco sent off a wire to someone named Socrates Poole--Zagthar snickered at the name--while Bowler collected the bounties on the three small-time outlaws. Zagthar stopped the big man on his way into the office, and spent a moment talkin g to him out of earshot of Pete and the Professor; when Bowler did go in, he was a bit pale even under his dark skin tone.
"What'd you say?" asked Pete as she sauntered back.
"I just warned him what would happen if he tried to coll ect on you." She leaned against the hitching rail and grinned lazily, showing lots of teeth. "Remember that chain?"
"But what..." Pete started to ask, then the question trailed off as his imagination kicked in, and he deci ded he didn't want to know.
Zagthar nodded, and offered to buy the drinks.
Brisco joined them in the saloon, ordering a drink and flirting idly with the barmaid, and they had just ordered some steaks to go with the drinks when a boy ran in with a piece of paper in his hand. "Brisco County, Jr?" he called.
Brisco nodded, and accepted the paper--a telegram--giving the kid a nickel as a tip and opening the wire.
He stood, just as Bowler entered. "What?" asked the track er.
"Some of Bly's men have been spotted about three towns over, yesterday. If we move right now, we might get them--" He stopped, looking at the rest of the table. "But someone's got to get you home."
"We'll be fine. Pete knows the way. Right, Pete?"
He nodded. "Uh-huh. I'll lead 'em back."
Bowler left; Brisco turned to follow, then turned back once more. "You're sure--"
"Go," said Meg. "He knows the way and w e're more than a match for anyone we might meet on the trail."
He put his hat on, checked his belt automatically. "Okay. I hope you get home, ma'am..."
"Me, too," said Meg dryly.
"...and Pete, next time we meet , you're fair game for that bounty."
"Tell the whole world, why don't you, County? Just go."
"Good luck," said Brisco, and he was gone.
They watched after him for a while, then turned back to the table, where dinner h ad finally arrived. There were a few moments of silence, before anyone spoke.
"Split his steak with you," said Wickwire.
"Happy to oblige," said Pete with a grin.
Zagthar pulled out a large knife. "I'll cut." "And good riddance."
"Hear, hear."
Later, as Zagthar saddled her horse, she was thinking about the number of people on this planet that she'd tried to kill before they became her friends... but then, almost all my fri ends are people I tried to kill at some point or other , she reflected, laughing. And now she and Pete and Wickwire were heading out into the desert by themselves on the road home.
Two people--not much of a guard , she thought, < CITE>but we'll manage to keep the Professor safe. In spite of himself, if necessary....
Pete interrupted her thoughts hesitantly, peering over his horse. His eye and hand had turned a ghastly shade of purplish yellow, and he now sported a g olf-ball knot on the back of his head, a testament to the Professor's prowess with a chair. It made his hat sit funny. "You ready?"
She looked at him for a moment more; particularly the bruises. "Sorry I dragged you into this, Pet e. I shouldn't've."
"Helped break up the tediousness, though." He spat to the side. Pete was the only person she'd ever known who used spitting as a form of punctuation.
"And almost got you killed any number of times--" ;
"I been closer to death than that. Heck, County can't figure out how it is I'm not dead a dozen times over by now."
"Well, actually, neither can I, from what Kaina--er, um, Kate--was saying."
His answer to that was a s hrug as he swung up into the saddle. She watched him, noticing again that he didn't seem to expend any effort. He just... flowed.
She shook her head, clearing out that line of thought and climbing up onto her own horse.
***
"Ah, hells !" Zagthar dropped her plate to dodge bits of burning wood as the wind upset the fire. Again. Pete and Wickwire joined her in stamping out the flaming debris, then the three of them dropped to the ground.
"That's it. We 've got to move the fire!"
Pete lay on the rocks, panting--he'd gone chasing a bit that had skittered away, and it had kept just out of reach for several hundred feet. "An' where would you suggest?" The breeze that sti rred his hair was night-cool, but the stone at his back was still warm from the sun and he leaned into it gratefully.
"Perhaps if we build it right by the rock..." The professor's voice went thoughtful. "That might shield it from the wind."
They finally wedged the wood into an elbow in the rock wall, surrounding it with stones. Zagthar shot it with her blaster and it ignited quite nicely. "There!"
Pete looked at it for a moment, then spat to the side. " ;Where we gonna sleep?"
Zagthar glanced down, mentally measuring... "There's not room for three, is there. Drat."
After several false starts, Pete decided that Wickwire could sleep on one side of the fire, Zagthar on the other.
"Where are you gonna sleep?
"Over here," Pete said, waving at the space past where he had put down her bedroll.
"You're sure you don't want to be next to the fire?"
"Yer still walkin' wounded, Meg. Just go to bed."
She lowered her voice, glancing sidelong at Wickwire, who was oblivious. "I can turn into something warmer, if I need to. You don't have that option."
He shook his head. "Nah. Prob'ly give the profe ssor a heart attack, and you'd never get home. And I ain't sleepin' next to him ..."
She looked at Wickwire, whose moustache was twitching slightly as he unfolded his blankets. "Gotcha. As long as you're sure..."
& quot;I'll be plenty warm over here," he assured her, laying out his own bed a few feet from her own. "I'm more accustomed to the rigors of the trail."
She laughed, seeing the sardonic expression as he drawled out that last, and fed th e fire a few more small branches before she climbed into bed. "G'night, Pete. "
"Night, Meg."
"G'night, Professor."
"Good night, Ma'am. Good night, Pete."
"Night, Professor."
"G 'night, John Boy."
"John Boy? Who the heck is John Boy?"
"Um.... Nevermind."
***
The wind rose before morning; Zagthar was awakened in the chill grey predawn by the flapping of her blanket as it snapped in the br eeze. She spent a few moments with closed eyes trying to recapture it with her feet, not quite ready to be really awake yet--
Then her pillow moved, and she was very awake indeed.
She opened one eye cautiously, sighted along a black-clad arm to a hand half-curled near the faintly glowing embers. Pete...?
As if in answer there was a pressure on her back, a hissing behind her as he took a breath and his chest swelled, and then his breath tickled across her ear a s he exhaled. No wonder I wasn't cold , she thought, fighting alternate urges to laugh, knock his teeth in, and snuggle back into the unconscious warm embrace.
She settled for nudging him in the ribs. "Psst! Pete!"
The effect was amazing. He jumped, his entire body twitching at once. Her head bounced against the rock once as her pillow suddenly disappeared, and the cold barrel of his Piece was against her ribs... then he opened his eyes, groggily, saw her, and hols tered the gun. "What're you doing here?"
"I went to sleep here," she told him. "I was going to ask what you were doing here."
"Huh?" He raised his head, looking over his should er at his abandoned bedroll. "Sorry."
"It's... okay," she told him. "You were just cold, I expect, and trying to get closer to the fire." She pushed herself up into a sitting position. "Sound right to you?"
"Uh... yeah," he said, with the any-port-in-a-storm air of a drowning man looking at an inflatable rubber horsie ring. "I'm sure that was it." He rubbed at his eyes and rolled up to sit beside her.
She eyed his Piece, the corner of her mouth twisting wryly. "Don't sleep in company much?"
"Hmm?" he asked sleepily, looking confused.
"It's generally not a good idea to pull a gun on a girl yer curled up with," she said, in a devastating imitation of his own inflection, then smiled. "And it could get you knifed. As could sneaking up on me when I'm sleeping."
"We'll just count that black eye you gave me as reimbursement in advance for my forwardness, then," he drawled.
Zagthar laughed. "Okay. And if it helps any, you make a good back-warmer."
He gave her a quirked grin. "Thanks," he said sarcastically.
"Think we ought to kick the Professor awake? Get started before it ge ts too hot?"
He nodded, standing and starting to roll up his bed. Zagthar caught herself watching again as he unfolded straight up, apparently without any particular effort. It was amazing.
She shook herself and stowed her own bedroll, sh aking Wickwire's shoulder while Pete started the coffee.
Wickwire's moustache twitched, and he rolled over. "Thank you, Miss Cousins, it was a beautiful song..." he muttered.
Zagthar shook him harder, laughing. "Come on, Profess or. Time to get up."
***
They rode hard that day, with conversation at a minimum, and when night fell they camped by the rocks again. This time Zagthar made sure Pete got the spot next to the fire, setting her own bed out several feet awa y and crooked compared to his, so her feet were decently close to the fire as she snuggled down into the blankets.
And she awoke in the night with hair tickling her nose, which was nothing unusual... until the hand that she used to brush it away enc ountered warm muscle that she was darn sure didn't belong to her.
She cocked an eye, looking at the world, and sure enough, she was curled up by Pete again.
Zagthar, who could face an entire Deathsquad with only a pocketknife and hope and stil l come out on top, wasn't entirely sure how to handle this. The worst of it was that she actually liked being curled up next to the man. It was maddening.
After a few moments of mental warring, she finally remembered the mantra that h ad gotten her into all of this in the first place: What the hell, she thought, and wrapped an arm around his waist, burying her face in his back against the late-night cold.
Pete twitched, turning sleepily toward the warmth behind him; Zagthar moved so that she was using his shoulder for a pillow before she went contentedly back to sleep.
***
Pete pulled his hat down over his eyes to cut out the early-morning sliver of sun peeping over the rocks, then lay his arm back across his chest.
And his hand came up against something soft and yeilding.
He froze.
A warm weight against his side moved with a sleepy, "Morning, Pete."
"Meg?" he said, eyes still closed.
"Yeah?"
"Is t hat you lyin' against me?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Apparently because you're warm. We shifted positions during the night again. I decided it wasn't worth the trouble to wake you up and make you move."
"I moved?"
"I think we met in the middle, this time."
"Oh." He started disentangling himself in an attempt to sit up. "We gotta build a bigger fire."
She shrugged, sitting up beside him. "O r surrender to the inevitable," she yawned.
His body was suddenly tense. "What?"
"C'mon, Pete. Obviously curling up together is warmer than the fire." She stretched, her balance wavering, and caught herself, propped o n one arm. "Is it so bad, waking up next to me?"
Pete leaned a little closer to her. "I was tryin' to maintain a bit of decorum," he said quietly, with the crooked grin.
She found herself looking up at him. "Aah, deco rum be hanged," she replied, barely more than a murmur as she fell forward into wickedly sparkling dark eyes. "Besides... we've got a chaperone...."
The mood broke as both of them turned to look at Wickwire.
Who was sitting up wa tching them with a wide-eyed grin and a keen interest. Somehow, against all probability, he'd gotten his hands on some popcorn and was munching happily. "Oh, don't mind me," he said. "This is fascinating. Go ahead and kiss her!" Without seeming to have gone through any intermediate stage, Pete was suddenly at the coffeepot and Zagthar was saddling her horse, neither of them meeting anyone's eye.
"Pity," said the professor. "You two are really cute togethe r."
***
This state of affairs continued throughout the day as they rode--Pete and Zagthar not quite looking at one another, definitely not looking at Wickwire, and Wickwire making well-meant but generally unhelpful comments ab out the state of everything.
When they stopped to camp, though, Pete finally caught Zagthar off to himself as she was rubbing down her horse. "Meg--" he started, looking distinctly uneasy.
She leaned back against the tree where the hor ses were tethered, and smiled. "Yes?" It was fun, in a sadistic sort of way, watching a man who had a word for everything come up at a loss. She finally took pity on him. "Are we going to continue the farce of decorum, or shall we ju st be warm and not migrate to where there'll be rocks in the bed?"
He took a furtive look around--the Professor seemed to be well occupied by the fire--and stepped closer to her, catching her around the waist and pulling her towards him. His lips closed over hers for a brief fiery moment, softer than she would have expected, warm and alive, and she leaned into it... then the contact broke, and he fled to the task of getting firewood.
Zagthar, breathing a bit harder, walked distractedly b ack to the camp and stumbled, sitting down hard just by the fire with an inane grin on her face. She could still feel the bristles of his moustache....
Professor Wickwire grinned at her, and she blushed.
She gave up on decorum entirely, setting out her bedroll and Pete's close enough to the fire--and each other--for the proper amount of warmth against the cold desert night.
He took in the arrangement wordlessly as he stacked the extra branches by the fire, and they ate the salty trail st ew in much the same silent manner as they had ridden--save that Pete and Zagthar, far from not meeting each other's eyes, were now merely attempting to do so covertly.
None of this was lost on the professor, whose grin was even more manic than usual.
When they finally banked the fire and lay down, there was a moment of confusion--filled with Wickwire's almost-silent laughter from across the fire--before they got their limbs sorted out, but they finally curled up spoon-style with his arm around her.
She was right--it was warmer than the fire, and by a lot. Zagthar found herself going even warmer, a slow flush creeping up her neck, and she was glad of the darkness.
Just before she drifted off, though, she heard Pete's voice behind her, just barely murmuring, and she had to work to make out the words.
"Yer hair smells of pears," he said, or it sounded like he said. "Not the sour ones... the sweet ones, just a little bit tart."
He can actually be... cha rming , she thought, shocked. I wouldn't have thought of him as charming....
She snuggled back against him as sleep claimed her.
***
The movement of her own hand awakened he r. It was holding a knife.
This was nothing particularly unusual; Zagthar had reflexes even she didn't know about, and had long ago trained herself to wake up if this happened while she was asleep. Otherwise there was every possibility that she mi ght damage someone she didn't mean to.
This time, the knife was heading for a rather delicate portion of Pete Hutter.
She stopped it, taking mental stock of the situation to figure out why she'd have tried to kill him in her sleep. They'd delibe rately curled up together some, oh, two hours ago, judging by the position of the moon; that couldn't be it...
Her position shifted ever-so-slightly as she brought the knife away from him... and as her body moved she felt the warm weight of his arm. It had been comfortably snugged around her waist when she had gone to sleep, but since then it had somehow moved... erm, upwards. And outwards.
Her eyes narrowed. "Pete," she murmured very, very softly, positioning the blade against hi s easily-accessible wrist.
He stirred slightly behind her. "Whffuzzrtt?"
"Morning, Pete," Zagthar said dangerously.
As the tone penetrated the sleep-haze around his brain, Pete became aware of a very thin sharp line of co ld along his wrist, which was up against--
"Dyaah!" he yelped, startled, scoring himself on her knife as he jumped back.
"I'd have settled for you moving your hand, you know. Sorry about the wrist."
He sat back down, dropp ing his face into his hands and rubbing at his eyes with the fingertips. "You coulda just asked."
"I wanted to make sure you were asleep." The knife disappeared and she leaned over to inspect his wrist. "Lemme see." He pulled away. "Ain't nothin'. Sorry about my hand on--er, um, sorry about before...."
"Not as much as you'd have been if I hadn't woken up. I've got, ah... good reflexes..."
"Apparently yers are better than mine,&q uot; he said, with the familiar sardonic grin.
His face was red, though whether from the glow of the banked fire or embarrassment, she couldn't quite decide. Probably both , she thought, turning a bit red herself as she looked at him... his hair was tousled, pale face defined by moustache and beard and dark eyes shining faintly in the low light. She suppressed a sigh, feeling a pang under her breastbone and relentlessly attempting to squash it.
She settled for leaning over and p lanting a quick kiss on his cheek before she could talk herself out of it, then lying back down. "Come on."
"You trust me again, then?"
"We're gonna wake up together tomorrow in any case, if the past few nights mean anyth ing. The question is, do you trust me ?"
"You promise not to pull a knife again?"
"Now you know I can't do that, Pete, I pull knives in my sleep." She gave him a twinkly-eyed grin. "But I can stop 'em before they hit you."
His mouth quirked again. "Well, that's a comfort," he said sarcastically, but he curled up behind her again, his arm carefully placed by his own side this time, rather than around he r waist.
The part of Zagthar that had pulled a knife while she was asleep greatly approved of this arrangement.
The rest of her, no matter how much she hated the silly feeling, missed having his arm around her.
***
Ka-click.
Pete Hutter froze, felt Zagthar do the same next to him.
"Okay, this time someone's going to die. I mean it," she said, the words muffled slightly by his collarbone. "I'd just gotten really comfy."
Pete, finding himself in the completely new and unaccustomed situation of having someone's lips tickling his neck while he was being threatened, fought the urge to chuckle and instead opened his eyes into narrow slits.
A tall man stood there, in a long dark coat and a h at, the left side of his face a mass of ugly yellow-brown bruises. "Hi there, Hutter," he said nastily.
"Banks." Pete's voice was cold and dangerous. "I'm really tired of this."
"Not him again," said Zagthar. "Doesn't anyone on this stupid planet ever learn ?" She lifted her head muzzily, turning to glare at the man. "Yup. You again. I owe you a hell of a lot of pain, idiot."
The ugly smile dropped from the man's face. "Stand up. I'm taking you in."
"Someday you're going to grow a brain, and boy, will you enjoy it," she muttered as she and Pete started to untangle themselves with some difficulty ("Pete, you're lying on my arm." "How did that happen?" "You're asking me ?" "Yeah, I'm askin' you to get off my leg." "Oh. Sorry. Hang on, I'm caught in the covers...").
Finally they were stand ing before him in the bare grey light, Zagthar wrapped in Pete's blanket. The professor was sitting up as well, his hands raised, with a younger, blond man holding a shotgun at his back. "Morning!" Wickwire said brightly.
"Only barel y," Zagthar intoned, her stare boring through Eli Banks' skull.
"Cut the chitchat," he said, with a no-nonsense wave of his gun. "All of you, over there. And drop the blanket."
Zagthar shrugged. "If you say so,&quo t; she said, and let the blanket fall.
They never even saw her move, but one of her larger, heavier knives impacted hilt-first between the big bounty hunter's eyes.
Pete had his Piece out in a moment, before Johnny could react, and had the younge r man covered. "I wouldn't," he said dangerously.
Eli Banks thudded slowly to the ground, bit by bit.
Johnny looked uncertain, the barrel of the shotgun wavering slightly.
"I ain't never murdered anyone yet," Pete went o n. "But you could easily be the first."
The kid gulped, and slowly raised his hands.
"Good boy," said Zagthar, stepping forward to relieve him of the shotgun. She patted his cheek condescendingly. "Now don't screw up a gain, ok?"
Johnny gulped again, watching her step over and pick up her knife, then stand over his brother with it held in her hand. "Don't kill him," he said, his voice breaking.
"What?" said Zagthar.
"Don't kil l him," he repeated, his voice a little stronger this time. "Please."
She favored him with a dangerous smile, noting out of the corner of her eye that Wickwire was starting some coffee. Like I'm not jumpy enough , she th ought wryly, still glaring at the kid. "Why?"
"He's my brother. Let me take him home."
"Will you keep him away from us?"
He nodded, just once.
Pete spat to the side. "How you gonna do that?"
& quot;I'll manage. Trust me."
Zagthar glanced at Pete, who gave the barest nod. She sighed, picking up the extra gun as she stepped away from the prone man. "Okay, kid, he's all yours. But make sure he behaves, or I'll have to pound som e sense into him next time." She leaned closer. "And if that happens, neither one of you gets to walk away."
Pete nodded to each of them in turn, his Piece steady and unmoving. "Take him and go."
Johnny wrestled his brother onto his horse and rode away, refusing to look back.
Zagthar, Pete, and Wickwire watched after him for a moment. "There goes a lad with promise," Wickwire said.
"Bright enough to walk away, at least," Zagthar said.
"We'll see if he can take care of his brother, though. Eli never was real bright," said Pete.
"How do you know 'em?" Zagthar asked, turning to the rangy thief.
"Tried to bring me in twice before." Spit . "Couldn't do it then, either. But I ain't gonna kill an unconscious man."
"But that's the best time!"
He just looked at her.
She raised her hands in mock defense. "Just kidding, Pete. You guys rea dy for breakfast?"
***
There was the house again--Wickwire's habitually gleeful expression widened when he saw it, though Zagthar would have sworn such a thing wasn't possible, and he kicked his horse into a gallop.
"Well, this see ms familiar," drawled Pete, looking after the Professor.
Zagthar laughed and reined in her horse.
Pete pulled his up as well, and they stopped knee-to-knee.
"You'll stay a little while? At least long enough to see me home?"
He looked at her, eyes covering every inch of her face before meeting her own gaze. "You'll be harborin' a known felon."
She snorted. "And that's supposed to be somehow worse than all those banks we robbed?" Her expression gr ew a little more serious. "Besides... if this doesn't work, we--" She took a deep breath. "We make a good team, you and I."
He cocked his hat back off his forehead, idly scanning the horizon. "I spent most of my adult lif e as a fugitive," he said distantly. "You learn not to stay in one place too long."
"I know the feeling. But I also know Kaina. If there's a way, now she's got someone to work with her, she'll find it, and it shouldn't take to o long."
"Yer askin' me to stay." It was almost a question, but not quite; quiet and detached.
She looked between her horse's ears, twisting bits of its mane in her fingers. "Last night, you were trying to say something.... What was it?"
There was a long moment of silence, stretching off as far as the distant edges of the sky.
"I don't know," he said finally. "Made it harder to say, that's for sure."
She looked up from the bridle. &qu ot;Then I guess I have to say it," she said, reaching over and grabbing his shirtfront, pulling him closer to her. She put a hand on the back of his head and pulled him down the extra couple of inches so that their lips could meet.
Pete Hutte r fell off his horse.
Zagthar, starting to blush, looked down at him sitting on the ground while his horse pawed and pranced around him. "That wasn't exactly the reaction I was expecting," she said dryly.
"Shut up and help me u p."
She swung down, offering her arm to her fallen comrade.
Pete took hold of her hand and grinned wickedly.
And yanked.
She tumbled into his lap, and he caught her arms, holding her still.
And he kissed her, both of them leaning into it until they overbalanced and toppled over backwards in a tangle of limbs, still caught by the kiss.
Several moments later, when they came up for air, Zagthar smiled. "That's more like it."
***
Some time later, when they got to the workshop, Kaina was sitting on the floor methodically destroying the remains of her transport with a screwdriver, and Wickwire was in the corner stirring a large pot of something that smelled absolutely incredible.
Kaina raised her head without looking around. "If you two are quite finished rutting on the lone prarie...." she said, her voice thick with laughter.
"Hey!" said Zagthar. "I have never rutted in my life !"
"Sure you haven't, Meg. I'm sure Pete hasn't either, right?"
"Uh..." They all turned to look at the black-clad thief. He was blushing again.
"Um... nevermind," Kaina said quickly. "Don't answer that, Pet e, I don't really want to know. Hey, Professor, are those potatoes done yet?"
"Nearly," he said brightly, taking a taste from a heavy wooden spoon.
"How come he's cooking?" asked Pete, taking desperate refu ge in the mundanities.
"He kept getting in my way while I was trying to cook, that's how come. I finally just let him be in charge of it. What have you guys been feeding him?"
"Same thing we've been eating," sa id Zagthar, leaning back against Pete and grinning when Kaina just looked at them and shook her head. "Trail food. And that stuff smells wonderful."
"Thanks. It's not quite done yet, though; I'm still waiting for the potatoes to co ok."
"Anything we can help with?"
"I haven't done any dishes for three days."
"Anything else?" Pete asked quickly.
"Whatsamatter, dishes don't fit with your thief-about-town image?" Kaina tease d. "Don't worry about it, I'll get to 'em. Although I bet you'd look cute in the frilly little apron. Don't you think so, Meg?"
Zagthar caught the hand that twitched toward his piece, grinning up at him. "Mmm-hmm."
Kaina turned back to the transport with an exaggerated sigh. "Just keep it outta my lab, ok?" she growled, fighting a grin.
"Whose lab?!"
"Your lab, Professor!" Kaina sang out, making a face.
Pete and Zagthar fought l aughter as they went in search of clean dishes for dinner.
***
Thunk.
Thunk.
Thunk.
The early-morning air was filled with irregular rhythm as knife after knife lazily appeared and disappeared in Zagthar's hands, sprouting from the tree opposite until it looked like a porcupine had tried to get friendly.
Pete appeared, shaking his head as the last one sailed across and embedded itself in the trunk.
"So you've finally gotten up, have you?" Zagthar said, looking up at him.
He grinned back. "Wickwire ain't gonna be happy about you takin' his bread knife, Meg," he said, stepping over to collect the blades.
"I'm bored, Pete. Bored, bored, bored. How l ong have we been here now?"
"'Bout eight hours longer than when you asked last night."
"Yeah? That long? And what did you say then?"
"'Bout a week." He handed her the knives and sat beside her, well out of the trajectory path.
"A week. A week ." Thunk . "She said it was looking good, Pete. She said she thought she'd be able to do it." Thunk . "What's taking so long?"
" ;You wanna go help?"
"I tried that already." Thunk zip-Thunk . "She threw me out."
"You wanna go look?"
"She'll throw me out again."
He caught her hand as she was pr eparing to release the knife, took the blade, and grinned. "Then ask real nice."
Kaina was crouched halfway under a makeshift console when Zagthar showed up with Pete behind her. They wandered among the pieces of partially-built equipmen t, jury-rigged circuits of heavy copper wire attached to the sleek control boards cannibalized from Kaina's ruined transport, looking at the progress being made.
Zagthar picked up a small triangle of folded paper and grinned. "Working hard, 'Kat e'?"
Somehow, without moving her hands from the components they were holding in place, Kaina leaned out from under the table and shrugged. "Everyone's got to play sometimes," she said. "Professor, you got that roll of wire?"
"Yeah!" came a cheerful voice from somewhere on the other side of a large pile of what, had it been anywhere else, Zagthar would have called trash. A mustachioed face rose into view, and a roll of wire sailed across the room.
Kaina c aught it on the end of her foot. "Thanks!" she yelled back, the words muffled by the screwdriver in her mouth.
Pete had stopped by what looked like a doorway--two wooden uprights and a crosspiece, covered with rather intricate tracings of copper. "What's this?"
"A temporally focusable trans-dimensional gateway," called Wickwire.
"Huh?" said Pete, glaring at Zagthar, who was snickering.
"The way home, hopefully," Kaina said, ducking back underneath the table.
Zagthar looked around conspiratorially, then flicked the paper football. It bounced off the back of Pete's head.
"Hey!" He retrieved the triangle, which had entangled itself in his hair.
"Stand back,&qu ot; warned Kaina, her voice slightly muffled. After a couple of seconds, she went on, "That means step away from the door, Pete."
Pete looked at the paper triangle, stepped away from the post, and prepared to throw it.
Zagthar stopped him, showing him the proper way to kick off.
There was a humming noise from the vicinity of the doorway.
Pete grinned, holding the football between thumb and forefinger as Kaina climbed out from under the console and pressed a button.
Pete f licked the football toward Zagthar.
The doorway sprang to life, bathing the room in soft yellow light.
The football went wild, pinging off one of the professor's models and sailing toward the light.
Kaina saw it coming. "No!"
Th ere was no time to catch it--it dove right into the heart of the glow.
And it utterly failed to come out the other side.
"Hell!" Kaina said, checking the dials frantically.
Wickwire rose into view again, dashing to the doorway as the glow faded. "What--" he said, in unison with Zathar and Pete.
"There wasn't supposed to be a test yet! Now I've got to figure where it's going to come out..." Her pencil moved swiftly on a notepad.
"Kate?" It w as Pete's voice behind her, concerned.
"What is it?" asked Zagthar.
She stopped writing. "Professor--anything major about, oh..." she glanced down at the pad "--a mile north of here?"
"A lot of desert and rocks," he said, shrugging.
"No houses, towns, anything like that?"
He shook his head. "No."
Kaina let out a deep sigh. "It ought to be okay, then... we'll know in about three hours, eh?"
"What's going on?" Pete asked.
"The thing wasn't set for anywhere specific... if it lands in the wrong place, it could be bad news." She turned back to the console with another sigh. "The good news is, something about it works, at least."
Pete leaned closer to Zagthar. "How bad news?"
"Boom," she said distractedly. "A very big boom. You mean we're going home?"
"Not yet," said Kaina. "We don't know how well it works yet, or even if it works at all. For all we know, the football was dispersed into its component atoms the moment it went through. But something works, anyway, and we may know more in a few hours when it comes out. If it wasn't destroyed." She shrugged. "But hey, progress is progress, right?"
"If it means we're going home, I'll be happy."
"Me, too," she said, smiling. "Professor, I don't know what that blue thing is you've go t hooked up in here, but it seems to work... and Meg?"
"Hmm?"
Kaina took hold of Pete's shoulder and the back of his belt and propelled him toward the door, ignoring his protests. "Go keep him occupied?"
A lazy grin slowly suffused Zagthar's face as she followed Pete out the door. "I think I can manage that."
***
"Oh, don't be afraid of it," Zagthar said, some time later.
"I ain't afraid of it," he protested.
"Then hold it like you mean it." She sighed, blowing an errant strand of hair out of her face. "Come on, Pete, it's just like your Piece, except it's not as noisy. Do you want meat for dinner tonight or not?"
"Yeah, I--"
& quot;Then go ahead and try it. It's got a great range." She pressed her blaster into his hand and forcibly wrapped his fingers around it.
"If it's so great how come you ain't used it much up to now?"
"Only had one power pack , Pete. Everything I could use the knives for, I did--saving ammo. That's all." She patted his arm. "But everyone should know what it's like to shoot a blaster."
"Where we gonna find game?"
"There were some rabb its out behind the house the other day. I bet we can find 'em again if we're careful. And if we hunt 'em with the blaster, the noise won't scare 'em."
Pete started to smile as he thought about this. "Okay."
They trekked out wel l away from the house and sat down, half-leaning against each other and watching for their targets.
Presently, a rabbit poked his sniffing nose out from behind a rock.
Pete took aim, sighting along the studs on the barrel, and squeezed the trigge r--
And the ground shook as a tremendous fireball filled the western sky.
The rabbit, forgotten by its would-be assassins, dove for cover and trembled in its hole. It didn't even notice that its little fluffy tail had nearly been burned off.
Pete looked at the weapon in his hand. "Wow," he breathed, then got pulled around by Zagthar as she dashed for the house.
"That wasn't the blaster, Pete! Come on!"
"Shame. Woulda been impressive...."
The thie ves reached the shed to see Kaina and Wickwire leaning out. "Isn't that west?" Kaina was asking.
Wickwire nodded. "Mmm-hmm."
"Gonna have to calibrate that , then. It should have been north-east. A good th ree miles from there, at least." She shook her head. "Anything out there?"
"Nope."
"Let's go have a look, then, shall we?"
"That ..." panted Zagthar, "was the paper football?&qu ot;
"If not, then someone's playing with very big bombs." She went past them to the barn and started saddling her mare. "You coming?"
"We're going toward that?" Pete said.
"C'mon, Pete," Zagthar answered, preparing her own horse. "It'll be educational."
***
They had to leave the horses a fair distance away, as the poor terrified animals were unwilling to get very close to the site. So they walked the rest of the way, heading for the smoke which still curled up from ahead.
And they stopped by a pool of molten glowing rock, and they looked up. There was a large crater partway up the rock face, still oozing liquid stone like blood from a wound.
"Wow,&qu ot; said Wickwire.
"Uh-huh. Definitely gonna have to be calibrated better. Don't want that happening to my molecules," Kaina said.
Pete leaned over to Zagthar again. "This was that little paper thing?"
&qu ot;Uh-huh."
"You didn't tell me it could do this."
"Not normally, Pete. Just if you tie knots in the laws of physics."
"I prefer to think of them more as guidelines, myself," offered Kaina.
"Really? Me too. That's amazing," said Wickwire.
"You think anyone was here?"
"Naah."
"Let's go see if we can get this thing calibrated better, then...."
"Okay. What's for dinner?"
"Well it won't be rabbit, that's fer sure," said Pete, gesturing widely. He was still clutching Zagthar's blaster, and she ducked, gently disentangling it from his grasp.
"Careful, Pete."
***
"It's been forever." Zagthar pac ed restlessly, and Pete watched her. "We know it works, what can be taking so long?"
"Will you sit down? Yer makin' me nervous."
"I want to go home , Pete. This place is too small."
"Small? We got whole entire states we ain't even touched yet."
"Small states, Pete. I had entire planets to play with. Not that this isn't fun in its own way, but a couple million dollars here and there... that's small potatoes.&quo t;
Pete just looked at her, trying to reconcile the concept of "a couple million dollars here and there" with the concept of "small potatoes." She'd used them in the same sentence, even.
She noticed his expression, and smile d. "Didn't you ever wonder what else might be out there, what more the universe had to offer?"
"A couple million is small potatoes?" he said incredulously, as though she hadn't spoken again.
"Yes, Pete. A couple millio n is small potatoes. Especially since Earth currency is only good here."
He was obviously still having trouble with the concept, but an expression of irrepressible, almost psychopathic glee had begun to twitch itself across his face, settling in the general area of his moustache. "Really?"
"Yes, really. You need me to show you?"
His expression turned crafty. "You'd do that?"
She went still for a moment, then shrugged and dropped to sit beside him. "Ah, sher, what's a polluted timeline here or there? Wanna come along?"
"I've got a price on my head." Not a denial, just a comment. A half-warning.
"Not out there. Heck, we'll steal things you never even knew existed. " She looked at him for a moment, idly toying with a strand of his hair. "But there's no going back, Pete. I don't even know if they can get this to work once, for that matter. I won't be able to bring you back."
"I could ta ke m'Piece?"
She grinned. "I wouldn't have it any other way. But there'll be other toys, too."
"I'll have to think about it," he drawled, leaning back against the wall, laced fingers cradling his head.
They were sil ent for a few moments, Zagthar pacing again and Pete spitting occasionally off to the side, while Pete--while they both--thought about it.
A tremendous clanking from the shed was accompanied by the sudden opening of the door. Kaina poked her head o ut, leaving sooty handprints on the rough wood. "I think--" she broke off on seeing their expectant faces, and laughed. "Anyone'd think you were waiting for a baby to be born or something, Zag. I think we've got it working. C'mon in. "
The small shell of the transport had been fragmented--pieces trailed all over the room, attached by an intricate webwork of copper wire. "Careful, don't touch it," she warned. "It's live."
"Doesn't look very ali ve to me," drawled Pete, and then got zapped by a rogue spark. He looked a bit subdued. "Oh."
Wickwire was standing by an oddly-shaped doorway, peering at it through smoked goggles. "You're sure this'll work?"
"W e're about to find out," said Zagthar. She turned to Kaina. "How'd you manage the time circuit?"
"Ask the professor," said Kaina. "He had this weird blue glowing thing. I just know it seems to work."
" ;Actually, it was part of an orb from the future--"
Pete rolled his eyes at the mention of the orb. Zagthar just held up her hand, cutting the Professor off in mid-sentence. "Do I need to know this?"
"Knowledge is a beautifu l thing--" He broke off, swallowing nervously; Zagthar had allowed her teeth to lengthen and favored him with a very dangerous smile. "No, you don't need to know this," he continued. "You want to try it out?"
"What do we send through?" asked Zagthar.
"Me," said Kaina.
Everyone looked at her.
"You're kidding, right? No tests first?"
"This will be the test. We weren't able to get the controls set precisely enough--I can set it for a window, but the exact point of exit requires a choice." She shrugged. "I could do a short trip first, if it makes you feel better, but really if it's going to work it's going to work, and if I'm going to die I'd rather do so on my way home than on my way across the lab."
Zagthar spoke quietly, after a long silence. "You do know that K'Phil will kill me if you die..."
"He'll never know I was gone, if I can set this right. And if it doesn't work... well, I'll just vanish, won't I? And it'll be up to you to find a way back, or be stuck here for the next hundred years."
"How will we know if it worked?"
"I--" She broke off, deflated. "Good question. Short tr ip it is, then, eh?"
She and the professor bent over the controls again, for a moment, and the piecemeal doorway sprang into light. "Here goes...."
She stepped into the light, her entire body outlined for a moment in the golden glow.
And she vanished.
The professor looked after her for half a beat, as the glow died and the doorway became an empty shell again. "Well, it worked so far."
"Where'd she go?" asked Pete.
"She--"
&q uot;Here," said a voice behind him, and he and Zagthar turned to see Kaina stepping out of... nothing. Just a golden glow, hanging in the air. "It would seem that it works."
"What do I do?"
"I'll show you how to re set the co-ordinates--it'll give you a choice, of where to step out. It can't pinpoint closer than about half a mile, so you have to be careful you don't come out into the ground or a boulder or a table or something. Remember the football?"
T hey nodded, with various affirmations.
"...And then you just step through," she finished.
"So you're going back now?"
"Yeah. I miss home. Earth's a nice place to visit, but I think I've done my time.... C'mere.&qu ot;
A few moments were spent in hurried conversation as she explained the controls and they decided on the proper settings.
The men looked on--Pete with the impassivity of the completely confused, the professor with the keen interest of someone weighing a million possibilities.
Zagthar caught the expression when she turned, and winked. Kaina didn't turn, just said, "And you are going to destroy this when we're gone, right, Professor?"
"Oh, of course," he said. "It could be very dangerous, to leave around..."
"Good. I'd hate to have to clean up a polluted timeline because of this. It's bad enough I've been here for two years." Her hand twiddled the last dial un til she was satisfied with the display, and she pushed a button.
The doorway sprang into life again.
Zagthar, Pete, and the professor all backed up, away from the light. Kaina turned to the rangy thief, and surprised him by giving him a hug. & quot;Thanks for all the help, Pete. For me and Z--Meg."
He nodded dumbly, lip twitching in what--in anyone else--she'd have called a shy smile.
Then a kiss on Wickwire's cheek, and she clasped arms with Zagthar for a brief moment. "S ee you, Zag."
"In about four years, anyway, right?"
"Sounds about right. Ring up when you get back, eh?"
"Sure. Good luck."
"Thanks."
Kaina turned to the doorway and stepped through, and t he glow died after her.
Pete found himself looking over his shoulder, just to be sure.
"Don't worry, Pete. She's not there." Zagthar reset the dials carefully. "Thanks, Professor," she said, as the room was washed in golden yellow. "Pete? You coming?"
"I--uh..." he stammered, suddenly faced with actually stepping through.
The professor said, "But--" and stopped. From the look on his face he was weighing the relative virtues of an un polluted timeline and a world without Pete Hutter. The latter won out, and he smiled brightly. "Have a good trip!"
Zagthar looked at her recent cohort, eyes intesne. "If you're coming, you have to come now, and take my hand," she said. "Otherwise there's no telling where you'll come out."
"I--"
"Decide," said Zagthar.
She stepped into the light.
It was a bit like looking at shattered glass, where each piece reflects somethi ng just a little different, and it all depends on where you stand.
Zagthar, caught in the gate, watched a million glittering shards of reality, sharp as thought and deadly as a knife.
She chose one.
And jumped.
Pete Leviticus Hutter, Thief, Hired Gun, and occasional Psychopath-at-Large...
Was right behind her.
***
(Several months later, according to Zagthar's timeline.)
The aide knocked hesitant ly on the open door. "Um... Kaina?"
She looked up from a computer screen which held the electrical equivalent of several metric tons of red tape. She'd been doing this all morning, and was glad of any diversion. "Yeah, Tony?" (Note: every intelligent species in the seven-galaxy area has in some culture a name which is pronounced "Tony." This is usually given to the local equivalent of the swarthy and dark-eyed, and this was no exception.)
"You're not gonna like this... We lost a cargo ship."
"What, another one? They're going to massacre our budget if this keeps up." She sighed. "So what was it this time? Engine malfunction? Freak wormhole? Oh, no..." Her voice tr ailed off, and she closed her eyes, rubbing tiredly at her temples. "Not the bloody pirates again...."
"No, ma'am--"
"Well, that's a relief."
"It was a rock."
"Huh? They just plowed into a roc k? That doesn't make sense. There's gotta be more to it."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, placing a folder on her desk. "Someone took a small moon, painted it black with a starfield, gave it a sensor-null coating and dragged it into th e major shipping lanes."
Her jaw fell. "You're kidding. You have to be kidding."
"No, ma'am," he told her, in the tones of a man who desperately wished he was kidding. "There were several tons of gol d on that ship, and a weapons shipment. Neither was found in the debris."
Kaina let her face fall into her hands. He shoulders twitched, silently, spasmodically, and she drew a choking breath that might have been a sob.
"Kaina? You okay?"
She waved him off without looking and took a deep breath, throwing her head back this time.
The entire office rang with her laughter.
Quite a crowd had gathered by the time she was able to form a sentence, wiping at her eyes w hile an inane grin lingered on her lips. "I'm okay, Tony," she managed finally. "Everybody can go back to work."
Nobody moved.
"I mean it!" she snapped.
Everyone suddenly had someplace important to be, except Tony, who looked at her helplessly. "What do you want me to do about the transport?"
She handed the file back to him, still chuckling. "Put it down as accidental and run the paperwork through. And tell the captains to be a bit mor e careful from now on, hmm?"
He watched her for a moment more before he was forced to conclude that she was serious. Still slightly disbelieving, he turned to go back to his desk.
And so almost missed the whispered words from Kaina, not me ant for his ears.
"She must have brought him with her... I should have known."
Tony went on to his own desk, deciding not to ask.
She might actually tell him, and he rather thought it was safer not to know.
***
Elsewhere in the galaxy, near a recently stolen small moon which was even now receiving a paint job, two dark-clad figures stood by a viewport, picked out against the stars by the faint glow of a control panel.
"It's never going to work again."
&qu ot;It worked last time."
"That's my point. They won't fall for it twice." A pause. "And we're running out of black."
"What do you mean, we're runnin' out of black?"
"Well, if you'd get more efficien t spread out of the paint bombs--"
"I could do that if I didn't hafta keep paintin' over your mistakes." Spit . "That star there is clearly s'posed to be bluish-white, and that one should be a nice pump kin. Maybe with reddish overtones."
"Okay, fine. Have it your way." One of the figures moved, with a click, and the whoosh of a small paint-torpedo being launched filled the room for a moment.
"Much better." Another pa use. "You know what this needs?"
Sigh. "What now?"
"A few trees. Tall ones, like those Redwoods. Maybe a nice little brook, babblin' across the rocks--"
"There are no trees in space, Pete!&q uot;
"I prefer to think of trees as pleasantly ubiquitous. It would give the piece a character which, I feel now, is sadly lacking."
"It's a rock, Pete. It has to look like space or this won't work."
There was only silen ce from the other form.
"Okay, maybe we'll put trees on the next one."
"Okay, then."
A few moments filled themselves with the sound of launching paintbombs.
"So whaddaya want to do with the take, this time?" "What's this one transportin' again?"
"More weapons, some gems and such, and the cop's payroll. Any ideas?"
"You mean besides swimmin' in all that money?"
"Yeah, besides that."
"Maybe find a world that ain't seen us yet, spend a few days liberatin' some capital."
"We've been doing that for weeks."
A shrug. "'S'fun."
"We could take the night off--not steal anything, just go paint the town red."
"Nah." The taller silhouette half-turned, and the bare light from the panel flowed across long brown hair, snagged on a moustache and spilled onto a slightly twisted smile. "We've only got black."

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