____________________

He looked eastward, as the last dying rays of that cold, November desert sunset faded, along the ridgeline of the low, rocky hills to the north that divided Rosamond from the grounds of the Mojave Air and Space Port. The perfect place to put one really… out here, there wasn’t anyone much to bother, except for those that chose a life around space travel. And those who just fell into it. Traders, passenger liners, spare parts dealers, maintenance sheds, diners, brothels, weapon stores, and all manner of other commercial interests had sprung up for a fifteen kilometer radius around the space port. To the north, low-rent housing units and pocket communities had sprung up like joshua trees in the desert, all the way to California City. High-speed rail lines brought off-planet passengers and goods to and from Los Angeles, the great clearing house of the southwest of the continent once called America.

Another set of rails made a beeline due southeast from the spaceport, these ones covered by concrete, steel, and patrolled by unmanned air drones. They led straight to the most fortified complex in the whole California Republic – more so than even Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Sacramento. The Dryden Air and Space Development Center. It was hard to imagine that in a different era, just a few decades back, when it was a peaceful flight research center for a nation that no longer existed. But Ren didn’t like thinking about that. Too many memories.

Jager finished his piss about the time a sharp double-crack whipped through the air. The dog glanced up with the owner, but neither jumped or so much as blinked an eyelash in startlement. Far to the southwest, a bright dot leaned into a hard turn and slalomed left and right, bleeding off the last dregs of kinetic energy leftover from orbital velocity as it started a final approach into Mojave. Ren could barely make out the delta wing sillhouette before it dropped below the ridgeline.

The landing drew his eye up the access road to his pocket of the world. Under a darkened night sky now full with pinpoints of light, now low on the horizon, twin beams drew closer. Jager growled.

“Easy boy,” Ren said softly, “We could use some work you know.” He reached to a switch panel on the wall and dialed a radius of ten feet for the dog perimeter. The variable, low-intensity field would make it increasingly uncomfortable for the dog to approach it, as the collar would vibrate at frequencies approaching the natural harmonic the closer he got to the boundary.

Probably another damn blue-collar Earthsider looking for his wife – she fled off-planet with the kids, don’t know why she was unhappy at home, and gosh I’d just like to see them back home safe. Sure, meathead. I’ll find your wife for you. I’ll make sure their safe AWAY from you, lead you along, and charge you by the day plus expenses until the trail mysteriously goes cold. Such men were easily manipulated, no sweat.

All the same…

“Jager, standby.” The dog tensed at the command, and silently slunk to a nearby sagebrush bush. As he lay in the shadows, his black coat blended in with the night. Shutting his eyes, a move designed by the trainers to prevent the refraction from the dogs eyes from being spotted by stray light beams, the dog lay still and waited for further orders. He smelled strangers; the master was nervous. And Jager knew what to do about that.

Ren casually unclipped the holster slung inside his brown leather pilot’s jacket, and flicked the plasteel switch on the side of the pistol to arm the rail charger. He heard the faint schink of the metal bullet being pulled into position by an electromagnet to rest between the twin rails inside the barrel. An electric twinge as he touched the outer chamber with his finger confirmed that the slug would be energized, ready to add a charged bite to the bullet’s kinetic energy at impact.

You couldn’t be too careful these days. He stubbed out the cigarette with his boot as the truck pulled short a quarter mile down the road. Right by the sign that read UNSOLICITED VISITORS MAY BE SHOT. Good choice, buddy.

It was only after the subtle hum of the electric motor faded to nothing did Ren notice that the truck contained not one, but four individuals. And judging by the way the shadows moved, they were armed. Well shit.

This year, going for science fiction. In fact, come to think of it, I’m not sure why I’ve ever tried to write anything BUT science fiction. Maybe it seemed to “normal”, and I use the term loosely, to imagine and describe new systems and infrastructure, and of course satirical and allegorical plotlines. Whatever the reason, I am attempting sci-fi writing for the FIRST TIME EVER.

Username (if you want to look me up on the site to be my writing buddy): QuantumCowboy

Novel: Idempotence

Genre: Science-Fiction

Synopsis: Sometime in the really not too distant future, humanity has spread into the solar system. Orbital commerce and in-situ resource mining are now commonplace. But venturing out into our surrounding solar neighborhood has not made humanity any more united. Indeed, many of our divisions have been exacerbated by the new-found sources of potential wealth and conflict. Ethnic, class, and socioeconomic disparity is rife. The Republic of Texas, the California Republic, the United States of North Eastern America, the Federation of New Soviet States, the European Union, and the Chinese Empire are the major players in the new spacescape, and various minor factions struggle for viability. Some of the extra-terrestrial settlements have grown distant in perspective as well as space from their Earth-bound capitols… many are on the verge of declaring independence. Piracy begins to threaten the balance of trade and the security of many people. As tensions mount, more and more unscrupulous parties have a need for a hired hand who gets the job done… on a journey to reconcile himself with his past, Ren Valer lives from job to job, doing whatever it takes to keep the tanks and his belly from running empty. But the solar system is a dangerous place…

methane beyond the glass staggered
warms my feet like the bergamot wafting
from my tea warms the soul.
ah… perfumed lifeblood, and caffeinated too,
sharpening the mind as the hours get late
and the rain taps the windowsill for the fourth day running.

I remember mornings, earl grey steaming
from a microwave just beside the bed,
and a little pan that would cook us Cajun eggs,
cramped in a closet of a kitchen,
and we two snuggled under extraneous covers sharing
bergamot kisses.

and bergamot kisses remembered are the hardest on the heart,
cutting right down to the melancholy part of me that misses you
I want to share a tea and be with you again,
watching the rain together again.

a recluse these days, listening to the tap-tap, sipping,
eyeing warily that knight on f8, ripping
CD’s I left behind last time, sitting in
my papazan smelling scented black leaves
as the flames of the fire fade,
tinting the tiles the color of your hair when you’re asleep.

and bergamot kisses remembered are the hardest on the heart,
cutting right down to the melancholy part of me that misses you
I want to share a tea and be with you again,
watching the rain together again.