Last Frontier Saloon: Intro

by Jinn Tiole / jinnis

The double doors of the Last Frontier Saloon swing in a hot gust of wind. With the rag I use to dry glasses, I wipe sweat and black grime from my brow, then look at it in disgust and throw it into the recycling bin. They have been welding in dock three since early morning. One should think it would be no issue to vent heat out of a space station hanging in the hard vacuum on the western fringes of the Black Eye Galaxy. But obviously this is not the case. Every time a big miner pulls in for damage repair, we get so-called desert days in the lower decks—hot and dusty.

On the upside, big miners mean big money. And the ship currently hosted for repairs in dock three is the Spider's trawler, an old friend. Captain and crew will visit for sure tonight. Doesn't hurt to clean up the place for this special occasion. Not too much though, or it will destroy my Saloon's "authentic" reputation .

I adjust my favourite potted cactus on the bar. Cacti are rare specimens in space. Greenhouses on Outer Rim Station are strictly reserved for food production, not recreation. I brought this cactus as a tiny seedling when I pushed out to the frontier, twenty years ago. To my everlasting astonishment it likes the harsh environment of the lower decks of Outer Rim. A pity Lin couldn't hold her guns the other day and shot a considerable chunk out of my baby. It looks rugged now, with a half-inch hole punched through its main stem. But even this maltreatment hasn't broken the plant's survival instinct. The scar has already scabbed over nicely. I'm sure it will keep amusing the customers and develop into another rim legend.

The door swings open with a telltale squeak. I don't have to turn around to know Lin has entered, Lin, the famous woman-with-the-fastest-guns on station. Incidentally she's also my sister, or, to use the precise term, half sister. Our relationship is close enough for me to swallow my grudge and forgive her shooting my cactus.

She throws her broad white hat onto the counter with an unintelligible grunt and switches on the music box. A classic mixture of bluegrass and rap shakes the bottles on the shelf in front of the giant bar mirror.

I could have guessed Lin's choice. Sometimes she spends hours submerged in old music files I won in a bet some years ago. She insists there are timeless gems, even copies of songs played way back on old Earth. She might be right, but I won't tell her, I'd never hear the end of it. Or poor cactus might become victim of another enthusiastic shooting spree.

Lin drops into her favourite chair, allowing her to oversee the whole establishment, and leans back with a silent sigh.

"She's contagious..."

The chorus is the only part of this particular song I ever understood. It fits Lin, somehow. I raise my voice above the music.

"What's up, sis? Long day?"

Lin acknowledges with a curt wave of her hand and a shake of unruly curls. Since she picked up the job with station security, she has calmed down. With a bunch of miners in town, security has enough on their hands to cool even Wild Lin's temperament. She mumbles something incomprehensible, and I turn the volume of my sis' drug of choice down to mirror-shaking instead of bottle-rattling.

"What happened?"

"Those damn clones again, James' some-number-or-other. Got trigger happy and had a showdown on central plaza, of all impossible places. Had to take out five of them before they damaged the air system and lighting beyond repair. Sometimes I wonder if the guys at James Inc. fit them with self-destructive streaks just so they can flood the market with replacement units."

There's a thought. Lin has always been a bright one. "Maybe. You might ask Sir William Gregory the umpteenth-and-first personally. He's on station for the trade fair next week, I'm sure he'll drop by later. He always does."

"Wait, you know the mysterious heir of James Inc.?"

"So do you. Remember the silent guy who ordered iced beer yesterday? That's him."

"Sh... what if he knows I took out five of his precious clones today?"

I shrug. "I wouldn't worry. As you said, this might be his secret business strategy."

Before she can ask for stronger stuff, I hand her a glass of lemonade. Tonight, the Saloon will be packed to breaking point, and I prefer Lin's reflexes to remain at their prime as long as possible. She takes it with a nod, and like magic one of her guns appears in her other hand. Its vicious muzzle is pointed below the table at the first guest of the day.

Ray Salt lets the swing doors snap shut behind him and favours Lin with a toothy grin.

"Been a busy girl, today?"

"Salty. Pity you weren't around. Could have used your skills with this pimped laser lasso!"

"Got my hands full with bloody tourists." He drops his hat on a table and himself into a stool. "If this development goes on, you should consider moving Last Frontier Saloon further out, Jinn. Black Eye evolves into a destination way too fashionable."

I nod, convinced he's right. When I moved here twenty years back, following the miners from station to station and finally to Outer Rim, Messier 64 or the Black Eye Galaxy was the furthest outpost in human space. This setting suits me, and business remains good. But last week a family with three underage brats dropped by and asked for kids' happy meals and ice cream. It hit home like lightning: My time runs out. No wonder Salty feels the same. Since he settled down with two kids of his own, he worked for Station Central where all the tourist trouble lands on his desk. With his multifaceted past, this must be more than annoying.

I fill a glass with a generous amount of whiskey—the booze from agri-planet Wayne Seven even merits the name—and hand it to my old friend. I also push over a box of Ooorah's Specials, momentarily forgetting he quit on coffin nails years ago.

Ray only grins and sips his whiskey while Lin eyes his glass with envious glances. But she holds back. The clone incident must have shaken her worse than I thought.

The Saloon is filling with customers now. I'm glad it's mostly regulars and serve them, waiting for my employee to arrive.

She's half an hour late and storms in panting, with disheveled hair. "Sorry, boss, big mess on central plaza. Had to take the long way round."

To cross the station along the inner ring from her quarters means a lot of walking. I know Jen's not keen to face station security. But her secret isn't mine to tell. As long as Lin is fine with her working here, I see no reason to drop her: she's a good waitress and hard worker. As the local saying goes: If you meet someone with a clean slate on Outer Rim, it's either a newborn baby or a 'bot after mind-sweep. Besides, the camera in Jen's innocent looking, artificial left eye comes in handy time and again.

The regular after-shift crowd brings my old friend Dave. He slumps down next to Salty and, after a curt nod, both men stare at their drinks as if they contained the answer to the question of life, the universe and everything. They might, who knows. Now, only two of my special guests are missing.

As if on cue, Will and William enter together. Both wear unobtrusive spacer coveralls belying their owners' importance: Will is the 'Spider', captain of the infamous trawler that opened the Kalgoorlie belt, the richest mining site in Black Eye by far. Inconspicuous William inherited the mighty company James Inc. In the name of numerous aristocratic ancestors, he holds the patents for the working-clones that made human space expansion possible. Despite his heritage, he's a nice guy, good customer, and better friend. He still favours his left leg, pulling the right stiffly behind, sign of a long convalescence. At my sign, both settle next to Lin, Salty and Dave.

Jen serves a group of welders from dock three, then carries a loaded tray to the round table where my magic circle is finally complete. It took weeks of planning to get them together in one place, but this evening will be worth the effort.

I rummage in a drawer under the counter and pull out a small, purple bag. It contains the artefact that connects our group. Lin offers me the seat between her and Dave. I lean back, fingering the velvet bag. "Welcome to the Last Frontier, glad you all made it back to my den."

Most of my friends are old acquaintances, but some never met in person. Introductions done, I unknot the strings of the fancy bag. With a metallic clink, the tin star hits the scratched tabletop. Not bigger than my palm, the ringed badge, a five-pointed star, is engraved U. S. MARSHAL.

"Friends, may I present Last Frontier's latest acquisition? It will become the star exhibit of this Saloon. As you all collected valuable information about this extraordinary piece, we gathered tonight to share our stories and solve a historic puzzle."

The welders over at the big table quiet down as they start a game of cards. I find Jen's eye. She nods slightly, signalling she has everything covered. I draw a long breath.

"Let's begin at the beginning. As you know, this precious piece of tin is the original Marshal's star Wyatt Earp wore at O. K. Corral. The historic gunfight took place in the year 1881, in a town called Tombstone, on planet Earth. During later decades, the star's authenticity was disputed on Terra. But finally the Earp's family heirloom earned an honorary place in the Magical Museum of Memorabilia in Vladimirtrumpville City, the world's capital."

Salty frowns and swallows his whiskey. "No proof. Star and story might be fake!"

"Yes, Ray, but the museum's catalogue, issue 2019, contains a picture of the star and a brief recapitulation of its history, only months before the valuable artefact was stolen."

"That was ages ago, Jinn. Where did you dig up this information?" Dave wouldn't be where he is without his scepticism.

Of course, it makes Lin jump in and defend ancient Terran society. "Believe it or not, but back in the early twenty-first century, humans already kept digital records. Their archives hold a lot of interesting stuff, for those who bother to read." As often when human history is the topic, her stingy comment is right.

To prevent further arguments, I pick up the thread. "Okay, let's assume the star is genuine. It doesn't really matter because it definitely became unique shortly after. I'd like to summarise how Earp's badge left Terra."

I glance around the table, collecting everyone's attention. Lin wears a victorious smirk, Sir William Gregory opens another bottle of iced beer. I wait till he's settled.

"In the early years of space expansion, the star was stolen from the Muse. This might have been soon forgotten, but a company called Disney based the movie 'Star Thief' on the theft. Both lead actresses won golden statuettes, they used to call them Oscars, for their performance. This resulted in seven sequels and five remakes of the original blockbuster. Here, the first edition movie poster."

I call up a digital replica on the table's inbuilt scoring screen. The last original print had been destroyed in a shooting demonstration on Gulch Rock, nearly two centuries ago.

The picture shows two girls. The blonde is hot, to judge by spontaneous whistles. Her fancy outfit, exquisite jewellery and oversized dark glasses give her an exotic touch. Leaning over some black planetside transport, she's arrested by the dark one. The member of law enforcement wears a smart uniform complete with holstered sidearm. Contrary to my customers I'd prefer to get my hands on the antique weapon instead of the blonde's butt.

"The twenty-first-century movie features Eliza, undisputed number one master-thief of her time, and Kylie, the officer who brings her down. Eliza specialises in robbery on demand and plunders the Museum of Memorabilia in an acrobatic stunt. Unfortunately, she gets arrested for speeding in a town called Miami and pisses off Kylie, the officer in charge, with her attitude. Kylie confiscates her booty and returns it to the museum. But one item she keeps, convinced it's just a worthless piece of junk—a flimsy tin star engraved U. S. MARSHAL. Kylie earns a promotion for her heroic effort but realises during the ceremony that her childhood sweetheart, Paul, is not present. Told he is about to leave Earth as a proud member of the first manned Mars mission, Kylie rushes to the spaceport and gets hold of her space cowboy minutes before he enters the airlock. During a tearful farewell scene, Kylie gifts him the star as a good luck charm. In the last scenes, the spaceship thunders to its doom in Mars orbit and explodes in spectacular fireworks, while the girls share a prison cell. Eliza suggests a breakout. Kylie is reluctant at first, but then agrees with growing enthusiasm. The last take shows the star floating in space amongst the debris of the colony ship and a life-pod holding Paul."

For a moment, everybody remains silent. Will gently touches the movie poster. He frowns. "What happened to the chicks and Paul?"

"Sorry, Will. I concentrated on the star's story. But Lin might dig up the movie's sequels if you ask nicely."

My sis shrugs. "Not sure—the original of the classic survived as an undamaged copy. Even the soundtrack is historic. But the sequels are fragments at best."

Will ponders Lin's pessimistic assessment. "Well, probably better we don't know. I guess it's my turn to contribute a chunk of the story, then? Everybody settled with enough booze? Jen, I'd like another. Speaking makes me thirsty."

Jen hurries to refill his glass. Not for the first time, I wonder if the two of them share more than their preference for Aldebaran tequila.