Realms of Sci-Fi

The 12th Cavalry

The wooden boards creaked under the boots of the three men as they entered the saloon. Conversations ended, and all eyes looked toward the newcomers while more than a few hands reached for holstered laser pistols. Although no one drew their weapons, most were prepared to do so.

The open doors provided much needed ventilation during the hottest part of the day as the saloon lacked environmental control systems, but with the wind came the dust, and a thin layer of pale soil covered everything in the bar and accumulated into small piles in the corners. The air smelled of various liquors, sweat, and the acrid stench of a native plant smoked by the locals.

The trio of men were conspicuous by their attire. While everyone in the saloon wore the tanned leathers and homemade fabrics common to border towns, the new arrivals wore the solid black uniforms of the Earth Union; a white stripe down the outside of each leg signaled they were notofficers. The soldiers were clean shaven and neat in contrast with dusty and scarred men they shared the saloon with. Doing their best to ignore the attention and open hostility of the other patrons, the soldiers headed for the bar.

"What'll you have?" the barman asked while polishing a drinking glass with a rag. The servos in his mechanical right hand were in need of repair, and they whined slightly with each movement.

"Three meteor showers," the middle of the three soldiers answered. The triangular pin on the upper left of his chest identified the blond man as a Corporal. He smiled as if the bartender were an old friend he'd known for years. The smile faded when the bartender didn't react in the slightest.

"You got something other than Union credits?" the bartender asked, making no move to prepare the requested drinks. "That digital stuff don't work out here."

"We know," the Corporal answered, digging in his pocket and pulling out a trio of glittering green ingots the size of his thumbnail. He took one of them and held it up, letting the light sparkle along its edges. "This should cover it."

"I can't make change for that much," the bartender replied.

"Then cover the drinks of everyone with it," the soldier countered with a satisfied grin. He left the coin on the bar and returned the others to his pocket.

The crowd seemed to relax with the prospect of free drinks, moving their hands away from their weapons and putting them back on the battered wood tables.

The bartender placed three glasses on the bar and filled them with a concoction of blue and green liquid the consistency of honey. A trio of claws extended out from a ring of steel surrounding a mesh screen; the bartender hooked the claws over the rim of each glass to suspend the screen over the surface of the drinks before placing a rock the size of a sugar cube in the middle of each ring. Lighting a match, the bartender set each of the black rocks on fire, and the burning drippings leaked through the screen to shower down upon the surface of the drink and change the fluid to bright orange and yellow while at the same time making it more transparent.

When the cubes burned up completely a few seconds later, the soldiers removed the metal suspended screens and dropped them clinking to the bar's surface. The fire had gone out, and the soldiers downed the drinks simultaneously.

"Another round," called out the soldier on the left, only to be immediately seconded by his companions.

"It be mighty gen'rous of you Union boys to pay fer our drinks," growled a voice from behind them before the bartender could pour the next set.

The soldiers didn't have to turn around as the mirror behind the bar let them see the six men who had moved to stand behind them. The man who'd spoken had a weathered face, a narrow left eye, and a hand resting comfortably on the grip of his laser pistol.