Pictures used: #2, 5 7 &8
http://www.wattpad.com/forums/vanilla/discussion/120832/sci-fi-smackdown-round-three-pictures
Over the plains two giant towers of earth, pipes and conduits raced, raising a cloud of greyish-brown dust in their wake. The ranch rovers, mobile pillars of earth made to settle down anywhere and fast, were neck and neck for a few moments until the smaller one drew ahead.
The controller in the one house, perched quite unexpectedly atop the column of dirt, glanced anxiously out of the window as the other tower stole a few yards on her. She swore softly under her breath and increased speed. In her mind’s eye she could see the hover drives turning faster, glowing a deep turquoise as they reached optimum speed. “You’re not getting that hole, you bastard.” She muttered under her breath. She’d picked it up first, she needed it more.
Her ranch had been without water for more than a month now, surviving off of reserves she had stored in old red metal tanks, salvaged by someone from earth and discarded in space many, many years ago. The wind-mill had sustained her by drawing water from the tanks when the deep core system failed. She could hear it now, clanking and whirring as it danced in the wind created by her crazy race.
“Lezane...Desist...Desist...we’re going to crash if you don’t leave off, ye crazed ol’ bitch!” Her competitor’s ovice crackled over the communicator, erratic static rendering it crustier and more crackled than normal. “
“Nuh uh, you ol’ shrivelled sack of horse-shit.” She replied, leaning heavily on the comms-control. “That’ there hole is mine! I saw it first, and you know it!”
Laughter skittered across in reply to her words, making her shudder. She hated the old Valdurian who’d been her neighbour for the last three years. He was a despicable lecherous git, and he fully deserved what she was about to do.
Lezane called to one of her androids to take over the steering. She picked up her gun, a sturdy energy blaster, and headed outside. Buffeted by the winds she knelt down and aimed at the Valdurian’s hover drives. “One blast aughta be ‘nough.” She mumbled as she grinned and pulled the trigger.
Hellhole was an apt name for the small settlement that served as trading post and collection point for all manner of ruffians, outlaw and the usual effluent of society that followed where they congregated.
It was a place that was made up of dusty streets, clapboard buildings and not much in the way of technology. It was the perfect place to hide away in. Rogan was sure he found find whom he was looking for here. This whole planet was a paradise for criminals.
He headed to a building from which out-of tune music issued forth. He could smell the pungent scent of drunken, unwashed bodies and strong liquor even before he stepped inside the slatted swing door.
The interior was dark, and cool. A few patrons were scattered about inside, either passed out drunk, or very close to that state. The barman, an android, looked up at his entry and stared in confusion at the man silhouetted against t the door. Knee-length coat, wide brimmed hat... nobody in Hellhole dressed like that. His mechanical brain knew every one of the local yokels on sight. The yellow pin in his hat drew the android’s eyes. He recognised the sign of a lawman.
This man was a stranger. Strangers were trouble. Especially if they were lawmen too.
The man strolled over and sat down on one of the barstools. The android moved over and smiled rigidly. “What’ll it be, stranger?” he asked, monotonously.
Rogan stared at the android, fixating on its unwavering stare. “Give me a whiskey...and make it the good stuff. Not that watered down rubbish you serve to the rest of your patrons.”
