Conall Moran
Conall Moran
by Lanier Thomas
It was a killing that got him married. Well, in a way it was.
He was three days out from Earth Station, the advanced orbital space station in stationary orbit around the Earth. It was a modified Bernal Sphere that used antimatter-matter to augment rotation for gravity. From this station space craft were built and launched, negating the necessity of overcoming Earth's gravity and the heavy expenditure of energy that required. From this station, too, were launched cargo ships that carried precious supplies to colonies on Venus, Mars, Io, Europa, and a number of large asteroids. These were mostly mining colonies, though there were some that were purely research facilities.
Conall Moran was just twenty-six years old. He had dark blond hair and blue eyes that missed nothing. His lean body had been honed by the Army Rangers into a fit, fighting machine. He was not bulked up like movie stars, but was lean and muscular, hard as a steel blade. He was headed to Mars with everything he owned, which wasn't much. He had lost his house when the Army decided he was no longer physically fit for duty, which he still hadn't gotten over. He had an incurable form of asthma, an auto immune disease that made breathing difficult at times. Most asthma was curable at the time, but in his case it wasn't. His body rejected the treatments.
Like Venus, Mars had been terraformed a little over a hundred years in the past, but because of the "Great Experiment" it remained uninhabited and largely unexplored. The Great Experiment had come about when socialists had taken over the schools in most countries of the world. When Earth's nations finally agreed to a central government, while still keeping their sovereignty, the socialists gained power and socialism became the law all over the planet. It was an unmitigated disaster, just as every attempt at socialism has ever been and ever would be. It wrecked the economy of the entire planet and nearly resulted in a new Dark Age. It had cost the lives of more than a billion people. This went on for thirty years until the people rose en masse and tossed out the socialist leaders. Aided, or at least ignored by the military, the mobs executed a great many of the politicians, school teachers, and university professors responsible. A new government was installed and democracy was re-established quickly. Along with that capitalism flourished. Once those things happened, Earth quickly regained its prosperity. The previously terraformed planets of Mars and Venus soon had explorers and prospectors seeking wealth. Venus was a bit ahead of Mars and quickly gained some large towns under the pressure domes. The nano reflectors in the atmosphere turned back the intense radiation from the sun and modified plant life cleaned the atmosphere and reduced the pressure until it was livable. Once the atmosphere cleared, the enormous pressure lessened so that it was livable. Asteroids, the moon, Io, and Europa quickly followed with miners and prospectors heading out with exploration missions. Besides the one in Earth orbit, there was another Bernal Sphere near the asteroid belt that housed miners and the support communities and support industries. Now, seventy-five years after the return of democracy, Mars had several boom camps or boom towns where mining companies bought rights from the prospectors who found the wealth of gold, platinum, precious jewels, uranium, and other things, and developed the mines. This boom in the discovery of wealth brought more and more people seeking their fortunes to the planet. Instead of trying to stop civilians from going to Mars, the government wisely encouraged and aided them. The government had a program where they paid for the transportation of civilians willing to travel to Mars as long as they agreed to stay for five years and develop some sort of business or search for valuable minerals and gems.
This was what Conall was doing. He had been a Ranger Captain in charge of the dining facilities at Fort Mangas Coloradas, the home of the Fourth Ranger Battalion. He used the last of his savings and bought baking supplies, ovens, and bakingbots. He signed an agreement with the government and headed for Mars with the intention of doing just what he was good at, baking. Bakeries were a dime a dozen on Earth, but in the Martian boomtowns, there weren't any. He planned to be the first on the ground, get established, and finally make enough money to sustain him for the rest of his life. It was a bold plan.
Coming out of his tiny ship's cabin, the first person he saw coming down the short corridor in his black coveralls with orange piping on the collar was a man he recognized. "Sergeant Bricker! What in the name of...Gold Bricker, what are you doing here?"
"Captain Moran, of all people. I figured someone had died of eating your food and they put you in prison, or something!" he laughed. "Man, it's good to see you! As for what I'm doing here, I own this tub of bolts. Well, at least I'm still paying for it. It is a small, but good ship. Large enough to carry enough cargo to make it pay and pay well, but too small to carry many passengers. Don't tell me you are going to Mars? What happened to the Army, and more importantly, what happened to...what was her name...Tiffany?"
"That's a sad story. Never date or get involved with a girl named Tiffany or Tina. In her case that was her first and middle names. I shoulda known better. She got a lot of my savings by running up my charge card, and took off for God knows where. Good riddance. No, they put me out of the Army. Said I had an incurable auto-immune disease, or some such. And yes, I am headed to Mars. I'm going to do the only thing I'm good at...bake" Conall said.
"Holy smokes! Captain, if you can bake, and I happen to know you can, you will make a fortune. All of those idiots coming out here to make their fortunes digging in the ground are going to be just as poor when it is all over. Some will find fortunes, but they won't keep them. I've seen this on a couple of asteroids and also on Venus. They will lose what they find, or sell cheap and go looking for more. Someone else will develop them and get rich, probably a company with deep pockets. Now, Bill Enright has made out. He sold out to a mining company, but he kept a ten percent ownership. Smart," Bricker said. "Better call me Hank. I'm not a hard core, hard charging master sergeant, any more. I put in my twenty and started this business. I started slow and steady and now I have my own ship. Listen, have you got a place, already?"
"Not yet. I haven't even been to Mars, much less to, what's it called, BT-08. I think they are calling it Red Falls, or something," Conall said. "Call me Con or Conall. I'm not a captain any more, either."
"Well, Con, go see Maryann Sumners. Tell her I sent you and that I said you are okay. She'll forgive the lie," he grinned. "She has a prime lot with a biodome on it for sale. She just texted me. In fact, I'll let her know you're coming. Hold on."
Bricker typed into his phone and then said, "There. Done. Take some minutes to reach the planet. She won't sell until you've seen the place, but believe me, it is a great location across from the major businesses and just about the right size. Sad, that one. She got knocked up by a guy who left her with all of the bills and took off for some other place without telling her. He didn't want a baby and didn't want to get married. Now she wants to sell and go back to Earth, though what she'll do there I haven't any idea. Pretty thing, too. Not extravagantly so, just pretty in a quiet blue eyed way. Come on. I'm going to the mess hall to eat. I'll introduce you around."
***
A month later Conall was standing on the landing pad watching a robot carryall being loaded with his belongings. The ship had inverted and come down tail first for a fine landing. It's nuclear powered propulsion system having ample thrust to bring the ship down to the planet and lift off again. As the men loaded his gear, one of them said, "Tell me where you want 'em. The bot'll take it there for you, Captain."
"Thanks, Zak. Hold tight. I need to go see about accommodations," said Conall.
"No problem. The self-driving bot and your stuff will be in that warehouse right over there," Zak said, pointing to a large gray plastic warehouse across the landing area.
Conall walked down to the drab looking town of gray biodomes and dull prefabricated shelters. Some of the buildings were built out of the native red or black stone. Occasionally, someone had painted the exterior or planted flowers, but most didn't bother. The street down which he walked had wide gray duraplastic panels laid down in the middle to make a sort of roadway wide enough for two lanes. The rest was grass or dirt along the edges and in the alleys. There were around 60 dwellings scattered about the shallow valley and town. There were three bars, a cafe, a hotel with a restaurant, a hostel, three mining offices, a general store, a hardware store, and a few other buildings.
He adjusted his breathing tube as he went. The air on Mars was close, but not quite what humans needed. It was survivable, but a person wouldn't feel well without the extra oxygen. In another couple of decades or less, the O2 emitters would no longer be needed. The genetically enhanced dense vegetation was turning the once thin atmosphere into a paradise of clean air.
As he walked, he saw people from everywhere. He saw Indians, Chinese, Mongols, Caucasians, Africans, and some he couldn't name. People were busy, buying, selling, prospecting, or mining. Hawkers lined the board walks and street corners selling their wares. Everywhere people were trying to get rich. There were about three hundred people in town and around the area and there were eight such towns in total, each a little larger or a little smaller...that is except for Blue Hill. It had at least eight hundred people, mostly miners for the large Gold Medal mine. This mostly automated gold mine had gone deep and struck, of all things, a layer of black coal. This proved that Mars had once had life of some kind and scientists vied with miners for access to the tunnels. They eventually worked out a deal between the scientists and the mining owners. The scientists would be able to work in the mine at night after the two shifts of miners were finished for the day. Basically, they could work from midnight until 0800 hours.
He found the small laundromat and walked inside. The woman who greeted him was quietly pretty, as Hank had said. Her hair was blonde and cut in a bob. Her bright blue eyes studied him as he stood at the counter. She had a barely noticeable bump on her midsection announcing her pregnancy. "Hi, may I help you?"
"I'm Conall Moran, Hank Bricker told me to ask you about a building and lot you have for sale."
"Oh, yes. I've been waiting on you. Give me a minute and I'll close up and walk you over. It's just catacorner across the road a bit. Have any problems finding me?" she asked as she turned out the lights and locked the door.
"No. He said just go straight down the street until I saw the prettiest girl he's ever seen. That's just what I did."
"Oh no! You're not one of those, are you?" she said with a laugh.
"Well, that's verbatim what he said. I think he likes you, truth to tell."
She got pink and looked away. "Not likely, not in my condition."
"You'd be surprised at what most men would think of you and your condition. A real man wouldn't care as long as you were good to him. I'm sorry. I don't even know you and here I am talking about your love life," he laughed a bit.
"Here's the place," she said, as she unlocked the door. It was an old biodome and was approximately fifteen hundred square feet in total. There was a large front room, and behind there was another large room of the same size. There were two smaller rooms, a toilet, and out back was a shed built up against the dome.
"It's a good size for starters. I guess I can sleep in one of the smaller rooms. I'll take it," he said.
"I appreciate it. I don't know what I will do, now. I need enough to get back to Earth, but then what I don't know. Anyway, this is a start. Pay me and I'll hand over the lock codes," she said.
He had taken a liking to her from the first. He could see what Hank saw in her. She was straightforward and honest. "How about this? How about instead of my forking over money to you that won't be enough, how about in exchange for the building and lot you become a partner, say at twenty-percent?"
She looked startled and then started thinking. "You don't even know me."
"I know Hank and he speaks well of you and that's good enough for me. I've known him a long time. Besides, it would save what little working capital I've got."
"Well, a bakery will be better than a gold mine out here. Okay, for thirty I'll do it. After all, it is my building. Let's go get the bot to register it," she said.
***
All week they worked to get the equipment in place and the supplies put up. Conall had put up notices in all the public places. Then, he started baking. He set a huge fan up in the window that blew out the smell of fresh baked goods all over town. On opening day, he and Maryann had a line going down the street. People came from the other towns, as well. His ovens and bakingbots were kept going constantly.
That first night they were so exhausted they closed up without a word and Maryann walked over to her place for sleep. Conall walked into his bedroom and after a simple sandwich fell into bed and didn't move until the next morning.
At 0400 he was up, had a fast shower and a breakfast of oats with sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, chia seeds, and sweetened with honey. He had one cup of coffee in him when he heard the front door open. Maryann was already at work. He poured her a cup of coffee and went and joined her.
"If we keep up like this we can retire in a week!" Conall said, half-jokingly. "I hope Hank gets here with the supplies, soon. We're going to need them."
Maryann said, "Opening Day was bigger than I dreamt. I've never worked so hard. We are going to need help. I know a woman that works odd jobs around. The story is that her man died on the way out here. I know that is not quite accurate. He was murdered before they started their trip out here. She hasn't the money to go back. Her name is Aung Mi Mi. Call her Mimi. She might be willing. She's over at restaurant, today. They pay her a pittance."
"Okay, I'll go see her. When I get the biscuits in the robotic oven, donuts ready for the frier, and the bread in the machines, I'll walk over and see her. We'd better get busy. It is going to be another busy day like yesterday. There're already seven waiting outside," he said.
Maryann replied, "She is kind of quiet and sad, so don't take it personally. I think her fiancé was killed the day before their wedding by a gangster, or something. I heard the gangster's name was Sonny something or other, at least he was the one the cops were looking for. I don't know the full story. She doesn't talk about it, hasn't since she came here. I got the story from Hank, who got it from a cop he knows when he transported her to the planet.
At 0730 Maryann called Mimi and told her Conall was on the way to see her. She met him on the duraplastic walk outside of the two story, drab gray hotel and restaurant, the front of which had been painted white. There was a small green canvas awning over the doorway. "Ms. Aung, Mi Mi? I'm Conall Moran."
The woman who faced him was obviously of Myanmar ethnicity. She wasn't bad looking, he noted with appreciation. She had long, black hair and deep brown eyes that looked startlingly doe-like, soft and pretty. She wasn't tall. In fact, she was probably only 1.55 meters tall and finely shaped.
"I know who you are, Captain. Everyone does. What was so important that Maryann called me so early this morning?"
"Oh good, nice and direct. I like that," he said in that rich baritone of his. "We need more help. We are too busy for two people. We want to know if you'd come to work for us. We'll pay better than here, too, much better."
"Mr. Lim is a nice man, but he's stingy and I can't save any money working for him. Okay, let me get my things. Oh, and I'll need a place to live or you'll have to pay for my tiny room in this hotel. That will have to be part of the deal."
"Get yourself ready and come on over. We'll help with the room, don't worry, but we will try to find a prefab for you and set it up behind the shop. Keep your eyes open for one. On your lunch break, go out back and stake out a lot and have it registered. I've done the same. Then, keep your eyes open for a prefab or pre-owned biodome, or something similar. We open at 0800 for coffee and baked goods. We keep the coffee going all of the time, and there is tea, too, for those that want some. We have a couple of casks of cognac for selling drinks. That stock is different from the brandy we have for baking."
"Do you have a gun, Captain?" At his look she explained, "Gas Can Charlie will be around to see you, probably today. His real name is Gaston Beroux. He extorts money from the local businesses and those that don't pay, so the rumor goes, end up mysteriously burning down. Now, I don't know this for a fact, but it is my belief that he has a boss. He isn't smart enough to run a racket like that, though he is clever...and he's dangerous. He killed a man over in Blaise last year."
"Well, I'll watch out. Thanks for the heads up. Now, I've got to get back to the bakery and if you're coming, you need to come soon."
Conall walked back over to the bakery, which was just catacorner across the street about fifty meters and got busy. When he came inside, the four tables were occupied and the line was already long enough to go down past the hotel. He noticed a man sharing a table with a man and woman, but he didn't seem to be with them. He was a finely set up man with salt and pepper hair, who had on dark pants and jacket, with a white shirt. He nodded to the man and washed his hands and got busy with his baking while Maryann waited on the customers. Soon, Mi Mi came inside and Maryann showed her what to do.
They really needed more people, but Conall didn't know how long this business boom would last. Right now, they were new and welcome. Later, competition would come and might bleed off some of the business.
Conall looked up to see a man standing in the door, hat in his hand. "Scuse me, Captain. I'm Bill Shufflebottom. Folks call me Shorty, but as you can see, I'm not short." Indeed he wasn't. He towered in the doorway like a Goliath. Thick, corded arms stood out, visible even through the shirt sleeves. He was the town ne're do well, though apparently a very good prospector. He had discovered two good mines, sold them, and apparently drank up the profits.
"I'm a little down on my luck and wondered if you could spare the cost of a meal?"
Conall looked him over and made up his mind immediately. "Bill, take this money, go over and have a bath and a shave and put on some clean clothes, buy them if you have to. Eat a good meal, and get back over here as soon as possible and start work. Don't waste time, we can use you. I'll take the money out of your salary."
Bill blinked, then blinked again, "Thank you. I don't know anything about baking, but I'll do what I can." Then he left in a hurry to carry out his orders.
Conall carried a tray of donuts out and Maryann and Mi Mi both had funny grins on their faces for some reason, but didn't look at him. "What?" he said.
"What?" said Maryann as she handed a customer his order.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing that we know of," she said, keeping her back to him.
The people at the tables had changed, but Conall noted the man in the dark jacket was still sitting there, drinking coffee and eating a slice of wheat nut bread with honey. He didn't have time to wonder, however, because there were cakes and pies to make.
At 1030 hours, a large black haired, bearded man shouldered his way into the bakery and leaned on the counter. He was followed by a tough looking smaller man with a flattened nose in brown overalls. When Conall came out, he said, "Well, Captain. It looks like you got a good thing going. What you need is some protection from the riffraff around here, say twenty percent? It'd be a shame if something were to happen to you and this business."
Suddenly, Maryann spoke up, "Gaston, I told you to stay away from me and my business." The shotgun in her hands added emphasis.
Mi Mi, pistol in her hand stood silently on the other side of them, like a cat about to pounce. The two men didn't like it one bit. "I think we'll discuss this another time," said Gas Can.
"You do and it'll be the last thing you do," said Mi Mi.
"Ladies, please put your weapons away and wait on our paying customers. These two gentlemen and I will go out back and work out some sort of agreement," Conall said.
Maryann looked angry and was about to give a retort, but a look from Conall silenced her. The two gangsters grinned and followed Conall outside and around the back of the building.
"I always liked a reasonable man," said the big man.
Conall faced him and said, "Who's paying you two? Before we're finished, today, I want to know who's paying you and I want details."
"You don't get to demand anyth..." Gas Can started to say, which was cut short as Conall hit him in the solar plexus with all the power of a Ranger tuned body. At the same time, a well-aimed kick landed on the side of the shorter one's head, knocking him to the ground. As Gas Can bent over from the punch, Conall used the momentum to throw him over his shoulder onto the ground. Gas Can hit hard and a couple of ribs broke on the hard, rocky ground from the devastating impact. As the other man got to his feet, Conall started in on him. He beat him with finesse and the two men lay on the ground, groaning.
"This is going to get worse if you don't tell me what I want to know," Conall said, as he stamped on Gas Can's right hand, breaking the delicate bones. He had reached for a weapon, which Conall took away from him, and one from the other man. Then, he proceeded to beat them, some more.
Finally, a bloodied Gas Can grunted through his pain, "Okay, enough. He don't pay me enough for this. It's Jerrod Archer. Him that owns the Red Buck. He has us shake down all of the new businesses."
"Okay. You, what's your name?" As the other man hesitated Conall drew back a fist and the man said quickly, "Alright already! Vince Donaldson."
"Okay, here's how it's going to go. Gaston, you and Vince, here, get a chance to escape in one piece. If I even suspect you two are involved in bothering friends of mine, or if my business fails or is burned out or my customers run off, I will hunt you down, no matter where you go, and I will finish this. You won't even know when it's coming. But it will be coming. Got it?" At the hate filled nods of their heads, Conall said, "Don't get ideas. I am way out of your league. Now, if you are smart, you will leave this town and never come back. And Gaston, if I find out you lied about Archer, I'll find you."
"It's the truth. He'll kill me if he knows I talked," gasped Gas Can through the pain.
"Well, you had better hope Vince, here, doesn't talk. Now get out of here and don't come back, even as customers."
Gas Can cried out in pain as he struggled to his feet and the two men slowly and painfully went away. Conall reflected that broken ribs made it hard to move and to breathe. Gaston would be out of commission for a good while. He went back inside to a grinning couple of women and put the two handguns in a drawer and washed his hands. He had not even gotten dirty in the couple of seconds the fight took. As he turned around, the man in the dark jacket was standing there sizing him up.
"Customers aren't supposed to be back here, I'm afraid. Health code and everything," Conall said.
"Conall Moran? I'm Steve Plummer. I'm the new United Planets Marshal for this sector. Yes, the vote went through. We are under United Planets government, now. The territory is too big for me, alone. I'm looking for good men and you come highly recommended. After watching you handle those men, I'm inclined to agree with the recommendation. I'm going to make you a Deputy U.P. Marshal and you will have some legal teeth to back up your threats against those gangsters. You can make temporary deputies as you need them, as long as you let me know. They'll get paid for their time. Your salary will be good as a frontier deputy marshal."
"Well, this is a surprise. I appreciate it, but no thanks Mr. Plummer. I have a business that I just started and it needs tending to, though your offer is appealing," Conall responded.
"You've got a good partner. You will not be the only deputy. I will get more. Mostly, you will be about the towns and camps. None are too far away and I know you plan to start bakeries in a couple of them, anyway. We are not going to get rid of you just because you have asthma, which doesn't seem to slow you down any. Besides, this is not a request. Raise your right hand and take the oath. Hank Bricker said you might resist and to tell you if you don't do this, don't ask him for any more favors."
At that Conall laughed out loud. "Oh, he did, did he? You know, he'd make a good one, Ranger master sergeant and everything."
"I already got him. Raise your right hand. I'm leaving for Io in a week. We will have plenty of time to talk."
Once the oath was administered, Plummer handed Conall a badge and a handgun. It was a large caliber, recoilless pistol of the kind the worked like a railgun. These were not common. Conall had seen an experimental version when the Army tested it. The Marshal scanned Conall's bios and picture and he was official.
"By the way, I like what you did for those two women and Shorty. Things like that make friends and build communities," Plummer said, and then left.
***
Nearly a year later the business was still good. Maryann had her baby and named him Conall, after the man who rescued her. She finally had the money to go back to Earth, thanks to Conall's arrangement with part ownership in the bakery, but she stayed on. They had a satellite bakery in a nearby town that was doing banner business, as well. One of them would go over each morning to collect the profits from the previous night and deposit them in the bank, then return to Red Falls. Maryann and Mi Mi usually worked the morning shift from 0730 until 1600 hours. That way they didn't have to close the shop at night. The men took care of that and were always armed, just in case. Crime was sometimes a problem, though the locals usually didn't tolerate it once things reached a certain level. The towns around were growing and their own town now had nearly a thousand people. They were projected to hit five thousand by the next year as people flooded in looking for their fortunes and many the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
The Brubaker family had arrived and planted corn and wheat on the land they claimed just outside of the little valley the town sat within. The land was well irrigated and the sight of growing crops was a wonderful thing to look at. Of the six hundred-forty acres, four hundred was wheat, and the rest was planted with corn, except for a five acre vegetable garden for the Brubaker's personal consumption. Conall became part owner in a new mill set up to grind wheat and corn into flower. Morris and Monica Hadley brought chickens and had over a thousand and still growing in the coops they had built. They marketed fresh chicken meat, feathers, and eggs. Mark and Kelly McCoy had brought honeybees and had one hundred twenty hives set up. They were marketing honey and bee products, slowly at first, but more as the bees became productive enough. Conall bought wildflower honey from them as often as possible.
Conall had made changes to the biodome of the bakery. The back of the bakery had been added on to because there was a need for more baked goods than the small shop originally could handle. Baking went on most of the hours, but the shop was still open 0800 hours to 1900 hours. The front where the customer tables had been expanded slightly and now held eight plastic tables, with four chairs each but the counters with the pastries and breads were greatly expanded. The menu had grown, as well. He had over twelve kinds of bread, six kinds of pies, four kinds of donuts, and seven types of cakes available, now.
At first it had been a shock when people learned that Conall was a Deputy U.P. Marshal. After a bit, though, people were glad to have some law and order. As the town grew however, they elected a mayor and a local sheriff, who handled most things in town, along with his deputy. Jon Wu Kim, the owner of the Purple Parrot mine was elected mayor. Derrick Densmore was elected sheriff. He had been a cop in a small town in Idaho and had training. Ainsley Burdette was his deputy. She had a girly name, but she was no girly girl. She was big and tall. She wasn't fat. She was just big and she was strong. She was 1.9 meters tall and weighed not less than 99.8 kilograms. She had been a body builder and a professional women's football player. Even with her size, she was married. Her husband was equally big and was a miner. At her size, not many gave her a problem.
Shorty had turned out to be a great boon for the bakery. He worked hard enough for two people and the customers liked him in his new role. He took off on occasion to go prospecting, but was always back, and ready for work after two days. Most of the time he was in the bakery working. He turned out to be a scone master. He learned to make scones better than anyone. To Conall's great delight, he had also learned to make Southern style buttermilk biscuits and buttermilk cornbread that was as good as anything Conall could make, himself. Shorty had gotten a room in a prefab house nearby, so was always at the bakery for his shift early. Conall noticed that despite his reputation, he really didn't drink much. He had a beer on occasion after work, but that was it. He didn't seem to hold on to money for very long, however. Somehow, it seemed to dribble away.
One day, Conall said, "Bill, would you like me to invest part of your paycheck each payday? I don't want to embarrass you, but you get paid and then you are out of money. I can help you with that."
Shorty looked down at the ground and then looked up at Conall, "Cap, it ain't that. I got a wife and kid back in Philly. I send everything I can to them."
"You mean all of that money you made from selling those two mines went to your family?" asked Conall. "Bill, I had a good opinion of you in spite of what people said when I first saw you, and now I have an even better opinion of you. It takes a man to do that."
"Yeah, that's where it goes. I was raised that way. Taking care of wife and child is a man's responsibility. Anyway, don't go spreading that around. I get more information when they don't think much of me. Besides, Cap, for your ears only, I think I hit pay dirt, again. I got a tip by listening. I won't say where, but the bot says it's rich, very rich. It's rich high grade stuff. Platinum alloyed with gold."
"I don't know much about such things. What would it take to develop it?," asked Conall.
"It would take capital and a small crew to get anything out that would pay. That's why I sold the other two. Probably what I'll do with this one."
"Wait. Don't do anything. Let's talk to Hank Bricker. He might invest, and I certainly will. We will see where this goes. I've got eight people at the bakery here, now, including myself, and six in the other location. I've got enough to cover. If you need to go work it, go work it. Hank is due to arrive tomorrow. Then we can go for a looksee, if it's alright with you, that is."
"Well, I can't think of any others I'd rather have. Good. We'll go see, but say nothing to anyone," Shorty said. "This is the kind of thing people are murdered over."
***
Two days later, two men were found dead in the alley behind the new bot repair shop. There was a fuel can found near the men. The sheriff called Conall and he came to the site where the men's bodies were found. They were Gaston Beroux and Vincent Donaldson. They had been killed quickly and quietly from behind by a knife or short sword with at least a slender twenty-five centimeter blade. They had been stabbed at the base of the skull and the blade ranged up into the brain, severing the brain stem. Death had been instantaneous for both men.
The investigation led both Sheriff Densmore and Conall to believe that the men were planning to burn the building. They found that the shop owner had refused the protection scam. Somehow, they were killed from behind, either by someone they were not aware was around, or by someone they trusted. There were no cameras in the alley, and the few on the street didn't pick up the men, meaning they had come by devious means.
"Sheriff, these are the two men who tried to extort money from me when I first opened. We reached an agreement. I wouldn't hurt them any longer if they left me and my friends alone. I forced them to tell me the name of their boss. They were afraid he'd kill them if he knew. They said it was Jerrod Archer," Conall told him.
"Now that doesn't surprise me one bit. What's real interesting is that Archer has been off planet for a year and just got back maybe a week ago. Always has more money than I'd think a bar owner would have, though he does alright," said the Sheriff.
There was no other physical evidence that they had the capability to collect. There was no foreign DNA, no finger prints, no footprints, nothing. There were just two dead bodies with stab wounds to the head and neck joint that angled upward into the brain. What they did determine is that the perpetrator was right handed and had gotten close and struck both men before they could react. That was something that seemed impossible, yet it fit the facts. The wounds, upon the doctor's autopsy, were determined to have been made by a somewhat slender bladed, double edged knife with a blade twenty-four centimeters long and three centimeters wide at the broadest part.
***
Early one morning before daylight, Conall and Hank accompanied Shorty out to the hills beyond the shallow canyon where the town was situated. He took them up a draw towards some higher rusty hills and they came to an ancient alluvial deposit spilling down from an old dry creek bed.
"I started looking at this and found gold, but mixed in with the gold was a rich platinum alloyed with it. There is likely enough in this alluvial deposit to make it worth getting, but I kept looking for the source. I found an ultra-mafic igneous rock outcropping just up there, where you can see that large overhang. Just to the left of it, you can see the outcropping. It is rich. Let's go up and have a look," said Shorty.
They had a bot look at the alluvial deposit and it immediately found color and it was good. The farther up they went, the richer the samples became. Shorty led them up the steep climb to the face of the outcropping and it was richly seamed with gold. There were streaks and sparkles of a silver colored metal that they knew must be platinum. Hank knocked off a piece with his rock hammer and took out a vial. He poured some of the acid from it onto the rock and it stayed bright silver and did not turn color or corrode away.
"Let's stake out the whole area, just in case," said Conall. "More than one mine has been taken away by someone staking out the land just behind or to the side and the seam of gold or whatever turned that way." They drove in stakes but they also marked off the area using the overhead satellite to get the coordinates. They recorded and registered the claim.
"Alright, we've got to hire how many men?" Hank asked.
"I should think five or six good ones to start and more later. We are going to need equipment, ore cars...Let me think a bit about what we will need," Shorty said. "I know four or five good miners that I can trust. Let me see if I can get them. I'm going to need an advance to get things going."
Within a week the mine was taking out several tons of high grade ore per day. They also worked the alluvial deposit and it was rich. Robots did most of the work at both places. They had been costly but quickly paid for themselves. The self-driving ore cars from the mill were loaded and delivered the ore to the mill to be milled and the gold and platinum separated and then refined. It did, indeed, look like a rich strike. Shorty named the mine the Amelia-Rose after his wife.
***
Conall worked day and night and his bakeries were doing as well as many mines and better than most. People would pay whatever he wanted to charge, though he didn't try to gouge them. He did have to cover his costs, though, because shipping the supplies out here from Earth wasn't cheap. He was making plans to open a third bakery. He wasn't going to try and open one in every mining camp or boomtown. Those towns might fail. He only targeted those that looked to become actual lasting towns. One day, he and Maryann were working in the back and he said, "Have you seen Hank?"
"Why, yes. He comes by here every day when he is on planet. He's a busy man. Why?" she asked.
"Well, you know the reason he comes by here. I mean, he can get bread and biscuits from packets on board his ship," Conall said with a grin.
"Well, he comes to...What? No way! Don't start that, again! That man is not going to want a single mom. Men don't want to get stuck with a baby not their own. What are you thinking of!" she exclaimed as she aimed a playful swat at his arm.
"He's a good man and not the kind to shirk responsibility like some of these good looking but worthless youngsters your own age. He is a bit older than you, but not so much as it will matter in ten years. Just sayin'," Conall said.
She looked thoughtful. Conall knew she liked Hank and liked his company. How much more she felt he didn't know. He watched her face as he worked. She didn't say anything more but that evening, when Hank came for his usual evening after dinner cup of coffee, she got a mug and joined him. Conall walked down the street whistling.
The town had voted to rename itself officially as Ruby Falls for a waterfall that tumbled down a red hill near the town. While he walked along the busy street greeting people, he noticed how the town had grown. There were quite a few women and children now, and two teachers had been hired to teach the children. A new transport dealer had opened its doors selling dune buggy-like vehicles meant for travel in the Martian wilderness. There were some trees growing, and in the lesser Martian gravity they grew tall and a bit more slender. They leafed out more, as well, in order to gather the weaker sunlight on Mars. The grass underfoot was rich and thick and the plant life was transitioning from semi-arid type plants to lusher types needing more water. The ice asteroid bombardments from over a hundred years ago had replenished the surface water and modified Earth plants flourished and enriched the atmosphere. Dust storms were long a thing of the past as the plants held the soil in place and enriched it.
He noted birds in the evening sky that was still lit by a flaming sunset. It was getting cold, as it did most nights. The birds had adapted and evolved in a hundred years and were sleeker, somehow, and their colors had often changed. He saw a rabbit or hare and it, too, was longer than the average on earth. It didn't seem to carry as much meat as the gravity was less. Animal life, in general, was longer and thinner than their types on Earth.
He headed over to the gymnasium for a good workout before going to dinner. On Mars, since the gravity was much less than Earth, he was stronger, but lost muscle mass if he didn't work out regularly. Most people on the planet worked out daily and there was even a jogging track that had been laid out around a park-like setting of a stand of trees. It was a 0.8 kilometer circuit. There were colorful swings and even a tennis court. The people in town were proud of this park, as it showed they were becoming settled and civilized.
He finished his exercise, readjusted his oxygen tube, and headed over to Ruby McEnroe's café for dinner. She had the best chicken fried steak around. The building sat next to the sheriff's office and was painted pale pastel green with a dark green and white broad striped awning over the door. Inside there were twelve tables with checkered table cloths. Out to the side was a covered area with eight more tables. As he sat eating, he thought about what he was going to do. Sure, he had his Marshal's duties, but they weren't very demanding. Earth did a pretty good job of weeding out the riffraff before they were allowed to board a ship. Some did slip through, like Jerrod Archer. Most of the people were honest, normal, hardworking people. Hank would probably pursue Maryann, and if he read it right, she wasn't opposed to the idea. Shorty had a wife and child and now was about to be a rich man. He'd made arrangements for them to come to Mars. Of course, as Shorty grew rich, Conall became rich along with him, but, what was he going to do? He didn't have anybody anywhere. What about Mi Mi? Well, she wasn't bad looking, not bad at all, but she was sort of withdrawn and it wasn't because it was her personality. Something ate at her, he could tell. Ruby was the right age, but she was married and there weren't many eligible women, yet. Money didn't mean much if a man didn't have someone faithful to share it with. No more women named Tiffany or Tina for him!
Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted. "Conall! There you are!" Fr. Nikko Nicholaou rushed over to him. He was the first priest and newly arrived. He was collecting money to build a parish in which people could worship. "Conall, come quickly! There's been a murder!"
***
"Okay, who found the body?" Conall asked, standing outside of the brick red painted hardware store. There was a gray awning held up by two posts that spanned the front of the store. A duraplastic sheet had been laid down between the posts so a person could step from the street to the door without getting into the dirt or mud. The door was a double steelglass affair, unbreakable by anything other than a missile or something. A sign proclaimed Marchant's Hardware on the front of the prefab building.
"I found him. Well, Father Nikko and me found him. I came back to the store to get some money for a donation and found this man inside," said Adrian Marchant, the owner.
"Did either of you see anybody? Was anything taken? Did you find anything unusual?" asked Conall.
"We didn't touch anything once we found that poor man. That's Jerrod Archer, the owner of the Red Buck. But, what was he doing in my store? What's more, how did he get inside? All of the windows and doors are bolted or locked shut. Unless he had a code, there is no way he could get inside. It would take a super computer a month, if ever, to crack the code on that door lock!" Marchant exclaimed.
Conall examined the lock. As he was doing so, Sheriff Densmore came running up. Quickly Conall explained and together they examined the lock. It was indeed a good lock with encryption. There was a metal guard plate in place so a person couldn't simply slip a plastic I.D. card in the door and open the lock or use a prybar. The keypad was a random number affair that changed the order of the numbers every time it was used so a watcher could not spy out the code. A crowd was beginning to gather, so the two of them walked around the area as the deputy tried to keep the people back. With her size, no one argued. Conall had her take pictures of everyone in the crowd because many times murderers would stand in the crowd and observe.
As they walked around the building, they found the usual odds and ends of trash, much of it blown by the frequent winds. Near the front on the right side of the building, they found part of a clear plastic water bottle. Densmore picked it up and put it in a bag. It was just trash but one never knew what was important.
The two of them went into the building and examined the body before moving on to the rest of the room. Near the dead man was a full can of fuel and a cigar torch. The man had been shot in the face, so whoever killed him had likely done so for personal reasons. The bullet had come out of the back of his head. The metallic smell of blood permeated the room. No one had heard a shot so that meant either a silencer or a railgun of some sort. This was the cause of death, most likely, but they would await the doctor's report.
Dr. Regent Strange was in his middle thirties and wanted the experience of being the town doctor in a faraway small town. He wanted to grow old delivering the babies and treating the sick in a town he loved and that loved him. He hustled into the room and began to examine the body.
"Liver Temperature and the fact that rigor has only started in the face says to me that this man has been dead about two hours, no more than that," said the doctor. "I would say right off that a gunshot to the face which the round entered the right malar process near the nasal bridge and coursed through his brain was the cause of death, but I'll confirm that when I get him onto my table. When can I take him?"
"Doc, give us a bit. We need to take photographs and search everything, first. I won't keep you any longer than we need to do so," said Conall.
They searched the man and found nothing, no identification, nothing. However, they did find a long, narrow double edged knife with a blade measuring twenty-four centimeters in length underneath his body. They got a DNA sample, blood sample, finger prints, and preliminary shots of his teeth. Looking over the store, Densmore took a laser pointer and shot a beam to the back of the store from where the man would have stood and found a bullet hole near the joint between the wall and the ceiling. Whoever had shot Archer had been much shorter than he had been, more than likely. Densmore dug out the large caliber steel slug and put it in a bag. As he did so he noted the absence of rifling marks.
When they got back to Densmore's office, they talked about the murder. The only person who had the combination to the door lock was Marchant. He would be a logical suspect. He said he was with the new priest, Fr. Nikko, but did he agree to lead the priest over to the store with the story about giving a donation so that he would have an alibi when the body was found? Two problems were that Marchant's movements seemed to have been known and he was taller than the apparent shooter. Of course, there could be any number of reasons why a bullet's trajectory might look like it was fired by a shorter person.
There had been blood found on the knife Archer had in his possession and only Archer's prints were on the knife. There was no doubt that the knife was the one used to kill Gaston Beroux and Vince Donaldson. Was it someone getting revenge for their murders?
What about the priest? He was new and no one knew anything about him. He was an Eastern Orthodox priest in the Greek Orthodox Church, or appeared to be. Obviously Greek descent, he was clean shaven and dressed in black. He was with Marchant when the body was found. Was that mere happenstance, or was he involved in some manner? Conall hoped not and voiced that out loud. The town now had more bars than any other type of business. There were a good number of prostitutes, as well. Most people were hard working, but with such a mix in town and nothing to modify behavior like a good church with strong worship and strong preaching there was trouble on the horizon. Law and order brought schools and churches. Churches brought about better behavior. Already, a more shiftless crowd had moved into the area, though they mostly kept to one side of town and didn't bother those on the other side.
A competitor to Archer? A rival gangster hit? Who would that have been? There were too many unknowns. That Archer was indeed a criminal was now perfectly clear. The DNA from the blood residue on the knife he carried matched the two murder victims. There were other much older blood samples on the knife under the handle. They sent the DNA from these off to the Marshal's Service to find matches. Like with the DNA from Archer, they would have to wait for the results to be returned. It was a long way to Earth. The doctor only had the ability to determine local DNA matches.
The knife itself was interesting. It was a custom made knife by Lonnie Nelson of Kansas City, Missouri. It wasn't cheap, either. The steel was a high end, high tech steel and was rust proof, while still maintaining toughness and edge retention. The handle scales were fossil mammoth ivory. The long slender blade was doubled edged and razor sharp. It terminated in a needle sharp tip. The pommel or end of the handle was weighted and expertly engraved with women's faces, a different one on each side. This weighted pommel made the blade lively in the hand. The sheath was made of hippopotamus leather and tanned to perfection. It was carved in a rosette pattern. The carry method was designed for shoulder carry under the arm. The whole rig was as beautiful as it was deadly.
"Well, what do you think?" asked Densmore, breaking in on Conall's thoughts.
"I know how Archer got inside. He wasn't dragged in afterwards. Someone was likely watching him and when he broke into the store, the perpetrator confronted him, there and then. Now, we assumed that because he was shot in the face that meant it was personal. It need not have been. It might be that when Archer was confronted, he attacked whoever it was and was shot in the process. Remember that his knife was out of its sheath. I don't know. I do know how he got in, however," Conall said.
"You are in line with my own thinking. I'm certain that he didn't need a code to get inside and I'm certain he didn't use a prybar or an I.D. card to get inside. That guard over the latch prevented that. How do you think he did it?" Densmore wanted to know.
"Low tech. All of these high tech locks defeat high tech efforts, but the designers are so clever that they miss out on the simplest methods of defeating them. Remember that piece of plastic water bottle? That material is very thin and strong and a lot more flexible than an I.D. card or similar thing. Archer simply cut out a flat piece of that bottle and pushed it under the guard, then wedged it into the door, pushing back the latch and opening the door. That simple," said Conall.
"You know, I never thought about that and I am trained to figure stuff like that out. Kind of embarrassing, but I believe you're right," said Densmore. "Also, I don't think it was a rival that killed Archer. A rival would most likely not have waited until he broke into that store. A rival either would have killed him more publicly, or would be more likely to have simply made him disappear," said Densmore. "However, I know that's thin, but I think I'm right."
"We can't rule out anything, right now, but you are probably correct," said Conall. "So, what does that leave us with? It could have been Marchant. He might have caught Archer breaking into his store and used the priest as a possible alibi."
"Yeah, but wouldn't it have made more sense for him to so-called discover the body when he opened the next morning? I don't know," said Densmore.
Back and forth they went until Conall went back to the bakery. There he met Mi Mi cleaning off a table. She was sure cute and she was very shapely in her tight jeans, he noticed. He admired the curve of her backside and the shapeliness of her legs that he could see outlined by her jeans.
"Mi Mi?" Conall began, taking a big risk. "Would you like to take a walk with me in the park after you finish your shift?"
She looked a bit surprised and his face was getting redder by the moment. "Why Conall, I'd love to! 1600, then?"
***
At 1600 hours, Conall and Mi Mi walked out of the bakery together. Maryann had a big grin on her face, as did several of the others in the shop, including regular customers. They walked down the street and to the jogging track that circled the trees and meandered through some patches. He could tell something was bothering her and she was quiet, but then, she was always quiet. He didn't mind. He was a quiet man, too. She had managed to put on some perfume or deodorant before they left, he noted. He could smell it when the wind shifted or he was close to her. That certainly meant something. Yes, he thought, she isn't bad looking, for a fact. She's not Miss United Planets, or anything, but she's good looking in a way that I like.
As they walked, he talked about the business and his plans for the future. He didn't plan to stay with the Marshal's Service. His bakeries were doing too well and so were his investments. In a few months, when the U.P. Marshal could find a replacement, he was going to resign and tend to business and important things.
"What sort of important things?" asked Mi Mi?
At that question, he mentally paused. What sort of important things, he wondered? Then his face got red, again and she noticed. Reading correctly what she saw there, she stood close to him and held his hand and they walked on like that in the shadows and golden sunlight among the trees.
"Conall, I want to say something...I..." Then, she stopped talking and would say no more.
"Say it when you can. No hurry," Conall told her.
"You won't like me when you get to know me," she said as she tried to pull away.
"I know you. I've looked into your eyes. I've seen your soul. I also know more about you than you think I do. Don't worry. I'm not going to hate you, or anything. You aren't a Tiffany," he quipped.
Not catching his joke on himself, she said, "What's a Tiffany?"
"Oh, I was just remembering a bad relationship. You aren't like that, at all," he said.
"What do you know about me?" she asked.
"Well, I'm trying to get to know you. I know you are brave. I know you like Rachmaninoff. I know your favorite color is cornflower blue. I know you like to play foosball. I..."
"Wait! How in the world can you know all that?" she looked at him in wonder and a bit of fright.
"It's simple. You stood up to those thugs in the bakery and didn't even flinch. I heard you playing Rachmaninoff a couple of times when I took some food out to the Hopkin's house. They are having a hard time and I'll not see them go hungry. Don't tell anyone. I know you favor a cornflower blue shirt and a pair of matching earrings. I know you like foosball because you have a callous on your right wrist from power shots. Simple. I also know you are sad and I want to see you happy, again," he said.
She stood close to him under a tall tree and they stood like that for a long time, arms around each other. Finally, without saying a word, as if of one mind, they made their way to the restaurant, like it was expected. It was a good beginning.
***
A month went by in which Conall saw a lot of Mi Mi, but nothing new was discovered on the murder of Jerrod Archer. Life had just moved on and the man had not left a void where his life had been. Conall thought that was a sad indictment of a life that one's death mattered so little because the life had mattered so little. The business owners in town were glad he was gone because they no longer had to pay his extortions. Conall and Densmore had investigated all of them and all of them were proven to have been elsewhere at the time of the murder.
Then, Conall's phone got a message with an attachment. The message showed it was from the U.P. Marshal's Service and that attached were the results of his DNA inquiries. He opened the attachment and read it and made a beeline to Densmore's office. Densmore wasn't in. He was walking around the small, but booming town somewhere. He finally found him down at the Dim Sum Chinese Restaurant.
"I got the results of our inquiry. Jerrod Archer was actually a man named Karl "Sonny" Sonntag." Where had he heard that name, before? "He has outstanding warrants for the murders of three people: Penelope Schmidt, Jaylan Pike, and Brandon Murphy. Each were killed with a long, slender bladed knife. It goes on to say some other things. This wraps up those cases. I'm going with the theory that someone caught him in the act of breaking into the store to start a fire because Marchant wouldn't pay his extortion demands. Sonntag attacked the person or persons confronting him and someone shot him in self-defense," Conall said.
"Suits me. We don't have anything else and good riddance I say," said Densmore. "The town is a lot better off without him and his gang of thieves and cutthroats. Four men known to have associated with him began to melt away when Archer...er, Sonntag killed Beroux and Donaldson. The last two disappeared from the planet when Sonntag was killed."
That afternoon at 1600 hours Conall walked out of the bakery with Mi Mi. Today, they brought dinner and a blanket and headed up to the waterfall. The high hill was covered with grass and some trees. There was a stand of aspen marching up the side. Where the rock and dirt showed, they were reddish. Nearby, a waterfall fell gaily down the rusty red rocks. Birds were singing their evening lullabies before they slept. As they sat eating in the waning light, now turned golden orange, Mi Mi was chatting away about a friend of hers that she grew up with and laughing over a misadventure they had had. She had been so happy since she started seeing Conall and it showed on her like an inner glow.
Finally, Conall said, "I got the report back from the Marshal's service on Archer. He was really a man named Sonny Sonntag."
Her face turned white and she looked down. "So you know. I tried to tell you that first day when we walked in the park, but I couldn't get the words out! It's all so horrible! Conall, I..."
"I've known from the start. I couldn't prove anything, and I still can't. Somehow, I knew a woman of your character wasn't going to be a pushover for a slimeball like him," he said.
"So, now what? I guess you arrest me and what we've had, thought we had, is over," she said as she began to cry. "He was horrible. I'll admit I tracked him from Philadelphia to New York, then to Alabama and up to the Space Station. I also tracked him to Io, but somewhere on the way there, I lost interest. Finding him wouldn't bring my fiancé back to me. So, I left right away and came here, to Mars. I had no idea he was even here. Then, one day, a week before I...he was killed, out of nowhere he cornered me on the street and spoke to me. He bragged about what he'd done. He said he had an idea to take me forcibly and complete what he should have done that day when he killed Jay. That man was a monster and killed at least eight others and maimed no telling how many more. Anyway, I was out walking down to the diner and saw him go into Marchant's store. Mr. Marchant is the nicest man and I knew what that creep was up to. He had already broken into the store and I came up and confronted him. He turned and saw it was me and laughed at me. He said it was time to take what he wanted and leave what was left for the fire. He pulled a large knife and I shot him. I shot right where I was looking, right in his face. I can't get that sight out of my head!"
"He was a fool to think you'd be afraid. That fits perfectly with what I know. No, you've been working for me all this time. You were working for me, then. You were and are a temporary Deputy U.P. Marshal and that killing was in self-defense in performance of your sworn duty." So saying, he pulled a badge out and handed it to her. Her face registered conflicting emotions of unbelief, relief, uncertainty, panic, and fear, and back to cautious relief. "You were tasked with keeping the bakery and its people and the town safe and you have done so twice, now. This may not be the time for it, but you have one remaining duty before you surrender that badge," he said with a slight grin. "That's really why I brought you out here, today."
"I had thought you might...Well, never mind. Sure, what is it? If you are serious about this," she said.
"We need women like you, strong and able to do what is right and necessary. I need a woman like you who is strong and will stand up to trouble. This isn't a settled planet, you know," he said.
"I know. It's wild and wooly, with mostly good people. So what is my last duty before you fire me and I have to go back to the diner to work?" she asked.
"Your last duty is as a Deputy Marshal, though the bakery job is still yours. You last duty is to marry me because I'm in love with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you." With that, he turned over the badge on the back side there was taped a ring. "Of course, I could always arrest you," he winked.
She launched herself into his arms, kissing him furiously and passionately. She cried with relief, cried for joy, cried for all of the suffering she had endured, and cried for the happiness she had found.
A month later they were married in a double wedding along with Hank and Maryann. Fr. Nikko proudly performed the ceremony, even though none of them were Greek Orthodox. The whole community turned out to share in their joy. That's how a killing got Conall married.
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