SciFiWestern

I have no idea what this was written for. It was done in my second year of college, going by the date tag on it, but I am not even sure how accurate that is. Either way, it is a fun little short story. Enjoy!

“What can I do you for, partner?”

“Shot o' whiskey, as hard as you got.”

A quick survey of the bar reveals a few sparse tables with dark forms hunched over their drinks. The poor lighting in the room hides the stains of alcohol splattered on the floor, contrasting with the spit-shine of the stainless steel bar holding the center of the room. A skinny, balding man holds a white towel as he pushes a shot glass down the bar to a tall man in black.

“Kinda slow night, huh?”

“A little early yet.”

“So where in this forsaken town can a man find a good meal and a bath?”

“There is a little place down the street.”

“Thanks, how much do I owe ya?”

“A quarter should cover it.”

Money quickly changes hands as the man in black walks to the swinging doors. Sun bright enough to blind glares down on a small dusty street. The wooden sidewalks are filled with people busy on their way to one of the many businesses crowding the street. The man in black struts down the boardwalk in search of the inn mentioned by the bartender. Down the middle of the street rumbles a hovercraft carting ore from the mines to the ore processing plant in the center of town.

“Why is it that all of these backwoods colonies are controlled by the miners?” The man in black mumbles to himself, drawing glares from passing pedestrians. “Take it personally, are ya?”

The man in black stops as he spots the small inn. Upon entering, he looks at the innkeeper and laughs, “How can a little man like you control the wild men of the frontier?”

“Like this...” Pulling a sawed-off blaster from behind the counter, he points it at the man in black. “...Looks can be deceiving, my good man!”

“I tend to agree.” The man in black smiles for the first time. “I need a room for the night; what ya got?”

“Would you like a little entertainment with that?” The innkeeper winks as he turns to get a key from the wood boxes behind him.

“I would rather pick my own, thank you.”

“Whatever you wish, but you don't know what you are missing. Room 2010; the transporter is over there.”

“So how can a backwoods place like this afford a transporter?”

“Backwoods?? This is the biggest trading town in the colony!”

“Well, pardon me, partner...”

Outside, a sudden sound of laughter and shots fired interrupts the man in black. He turns a questioning look to the innkeeper, who just shrugs and turns back to the holovid next to the counter. The man in black turns and heads out to the street, key in hand.

Once outside, he looks up and down the street and spots the disturbance. A small group of miners on horseback ride down the street, destroying the serene peace of the small town. Every so often, one of the merrymakers shoots their hand blaster into the sky, leaving the acid taste of blasters in the air. As the rabble-rousers approach the bar, they rein in and tie their horses up alongside the parked hoverbikes.

“In all my life, I don't think I will ever learn to accept hoverbikes and animals used interchangeably,” remarked the innkeeper to the man in black.

“Then what are you doing here in these backwoods?” The man in black turns and meanders back down the boardwalk to join the crowd entering the bar.

• *

Back in the bar, the man in black takes a seat in the blackest corner. Taking in the room with a glance, he looks for a waitress and signals his wish to order. After his drink arrives, he sits back to watch the crowd liven up the otherwise dim bar. The group of men from the street gathered around the bar and two very pretty waitresses. Every time one of them is touched by the rough crowd, the man in black flinches as if someone were cutting off his fingertips. Finally, he tires of watching the poor waitresses being touched and abused. Pulling his hand blaster from the holster at his side, he approaches the bar and pushes the men aside. Roars of outrage meet the fun-filled air like a cold breeze on a hot summer's day. Everywhere, blasters are pulled from holsters and tables are tipped in anticipation of gunfire.

“What do you think you're doing?” growls the biggest of the rabble-rousers.

“Only protecting these fair maidens,” responds the man in black.

“NO FIGHTS IN THIS BAR!” yells the barkeeper as he pulls his double-barreled shot blaster from behind the speckled counter.

“I think you step beyond your bounds, stranger,” intercepts the sheriff as he steps into the bar.

“I think not!” responds the man in black as he shoots the hand off the man currently grabbing at the fair young waitress. He then walks out the door and walks out of town into the sunset, as the men in the bar just stare in shock as the bright green blood spills all over the stainless steel bar.