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"... the Galaxy Rangers, you say? I figure they owe me one, to tell the truth of it.
Heh Heh. I guess from your face you don't believe me, stranger. Now would I lie? Look into this ol' face of mine and ask yourself - is this a man who gets by without the truth? No Sir.
Take a seat next to me at the bar, stranger, and, if you buy me a drink, maybe I'll tell you what I mean. That's right. Yes indeed. Sit down. Barman - two more of those Androxian Cougar Bites if you please, and don't stint on the bug juice this time.
Where was I? Oh yes. The Rangers... well now, there's a tale to tell.
Let me introduce myself, stranger - the name's Hamish Vox Deltufo Ill. You may have heard of me? No? Oh well, just smile when you call me that, stranger.
Well, it's an old story, my friend: it happened a while back, in another bar, on another world. A bar like this one, only a little rougher, you understand. Duffy's Place on the planet Stopover - a wretched hole of villainy indeed. Quarn Slavers in one corner, Orn Wrestlers in the other; more blaster-boys and cutthroats than a man might want to meet in his whole life. And that was just on a quiet night. You had to watch your step, if you understand me.
Back then I was something of a celebrity, to tell the truth of it. The meanest outlaws from Tortuna to the Crown Empire toasted the name of Deltufo with respect in their voices. But fame has its problems, and I was lying low on Stopover for a time while a little matter of eight thousand kilos of gold blew over, if you understand my meaning.
So there I was on Stopover, in Duffy's Place, in disguise, eyes in the back of my head, watching out for the first bounty hunter to draw his cold-beam laser and try for that reward on my head. Heh, this Cougar Bite certainly takes your breath away, doesn't it friend?
Anyway, there I was in a corner booth, hiding in the shadows, eyes on the door, a four-barreled blitz laser in my pocket, and a glass of neat Dragon Sweat in front of me.
Yup, Neat.
Then in walks this guy, and I watch him close. He's a big fellah, straight backed, wearing a cloth-armor overcoat and blast goggles. A regular drifter of the spaceways wandering into Duffy's for a quiet drink, you might suppose. But as I said, I watch him close, and I get to thinking he's not what he seems; a little too sharp, and his eyes are on everyone in the bar. And to tell the truth of it, I think this guy is a Ranger ... a Ranger undercover, no mistake, and I'll give you threeguesses as to who he's looking for.
That's right, stranger. Yours truly: Hamish Vox Deltufo Ill. Someone's tipped him off and he's here to bring me in ... or shoot me dead. But I don't run, no Sir, 'cause if I run, then it'll all be over. I figure I should bide my time, take another drink and wait for him to make his move, and if he doesn't, if he plays the waiting game too, then I'll lull him into a false sense of security, then distract him and slip away.
How? Well it's funny you should ask me that, stranger. You see, when I was a mercenary in the Monument Wars, during which I led the first Fire team into the Domed City and captured the Norgun High Command single-handed, I learnt a trick or two from the Raxianscout in my squad. Raxian? That's right, Stranger, the ones with the four buggy eyes and the mouth like a basket full of needles. Well, they can do some pretty neat tricks with their knack for hypnotism. 'Course,it's easier with the four eyes, but I learnt a couple of things from this Raxian. Helped me a lot in my time - I remember once I was in a standoff with this Quarn Slaver and I just looked at him and said 'Put down the laser-whip, my friend and walk away' and he-
But I'm getting off the point.
I figure that at the right moment I just have to give the evil eye to the Orn Wrestlers at the bar, they'll start a fight and in the confusion, I'll just slip away. So I take another drink and sit tight. Well time passes, and the stranger just sits there too, and I begin to wonder if it's time to cause the diversion.
Then I see the girl. Yes Sir, the girl. Human, young and real pretty, if you understand me. All alone, too, at the end of the bar. I figure that Duffy's is no place for a pretty young kid like that. Too rough. She's liable to get hurt if it comes to a fight. I guess it's my one weakness, but I can't stand by and watch a lady get herself into trouble. So I decide, there and then, that if it comes to shooting, I'll look after her no matter what. Even if it means not getting away myself.
That's right, stranger. I got principles, too. I figure she was worth it: real pretty, you see, long brown hair. No way she could look after herself, to tell the truth of it. Heck, I figure it's my duty.
Anyway, I'm sitting tight: watching the Ranger, watching the poor lost girl, and watching my tail. I wait for the right moment, my hand on the butt of my blitz laser. A mean sidearm, that: seven point six mil Aperture, recoilless hard beam. Blow a hole in a Ventrux Mega-Rhino the size of Betelgeuse. I figure that I'm safe enough for the moment.
Then a voice in my ear says 'Hamish Deltufo, you old son of a Swamp Crawler, what are you doing here?' I look up, and who should be standing there but Caleb Angel, Smuggler Baron ex- traordinaire and all-round rogue. That's right, friend, the Caleb Angel. I see you've heard of him. He and I go way back: we were street thieves together when we started out, and I guess I taught him all he knew, to tell the truth.
Normally, Caleb and I would like nothing better than to sit down over a bottle of Bug Juice and talk about old times, but just then, it wasn't the time or the place.
'Sit down, Angel' I hiss, 'and keep your voice low. I'm in a pretty mess right now, and I don't want anybody to know I'm here.'
Well, he clams up and sits, and asks in a whisper 'Trouble, Hamish?'
'Too right,' I reply, 'and it could get worse. But tell me, what are you doing here, you idiot child of a six-eyed Manta Snake?'
He grins and says, 'Ran into a little trouble with the Law on Prometheus, so I'm lying low. But what about you, Hamish? Last I heard, the Rangers had gunned you down in the Crab Nebula.'
'Obviously,' I say dryly, 'they missed. But things here are a little bad. You see the big guy at the bar? The one in the cloth-armor coat next to the squid-headed, mercenary?'
He says that he does, and I go on 'That guy is a Galaxy Ranger, or my name's not Hamish Vox Deltufo Ill. Figure he's looking for me, and any moment now, he'll try something.'
Angel clicks all fourteen knuckles thoughtfully and frowns at me through those deep red cybernetic eyes of his. 'You're right, you huge-bellied cousin of a Norman tree elephant, you. I was down at the starport onlythis morning and I saw him take out old Prawn Shorty, the gun-runner. When the local police arrived to calm everything down, he flashed a badge at them to prove who he was. I saw the badge as clearly as I can see the points on your ears right now. He's a Ranger, all right. And a mean one. Stay out of his way, Hamish!'
I nod, thankful at least that old Angel can back up my suspicion. Still the Ranger makes no move.
'Old Shorty, you say?' I continue. 'I guesshis luck had to run out sometime. He'll be on the inside of the cage for a long time.'
'Eighty years minimum, so they say.' says Angel, and we both drink a silent toast to our old friend, both secretly thankful, to tell the truth, stranger, that it was him the Ranger found and not us.
'Look, Hamish, you brainless excuse for a twelve- toed mud gerbil, if it comes to a fight, you know you can count on old Caleb to help you out. I keep this handy for any ... close encounters.' So saying, Angel grins and tugs open his topcoat so I can see what's strapped in his shoulder-holster. I catch a glimpse of a black handgrip, a power unit and a high resolution telescopic sight.
'Are you crazy, Caleb?' I ask as loud as my whisper will allow. 'That's a fusion bazooka! You fire that in here and you'll blow the whole of Duffy's Bar into the next star cluster!'
'I know,' he grins. 'Useful, huh?'
I always figured on old Caleb being a bit short- staffed up top, if you under stand me, stranger. He used to take the most terrible risks. But I'd never realized before that he was dang-blamed solid-gold one hundred-and-ten per cent crazy. Still, if it wasgoing to come to that ...
Well, stranger, it was getting a little hot now, and you could feel the tension in the air, but still the Ranger does nothing. Then I look and see the girl is still at the bar, and my concern for her returns. If Caleb starts shooting it'll be the end for her and no mistake.
I'm just planning my next move when Caleb gets to his feet and says, 'Hamish, you old sour-faced look- alike for a Frondrax flying Ice-Monkey, I'm going to fetch another bottle.' I tell him to watch his step and he heads off towards the bar, through the darkness, the smoke, the low murmur of a hundred alien languages. As I watch, I see to my horror that the idiot has deliberately found a place at the bar close to the Ranger, and is busy ordering another drink. I curse theskinny-limbed grungeworm's cast-off for trying such a crazy stunt.
Then it happens. The Ranger suddenly clamps his hand on Angel's shoulder in one smooth, strong motion and says, 'I'm taking you in', in a voice that cuts through the air of Duffy's Place and silences everyone. Angel looks surprised and I realize at once what has happened:the Ranger has only gone and mistaken the crazy fool for me! My disguise was so good that he never gave me a second glance. But Caleb, with his swagger and his bravado, obviously looks the part of a notorious intergalactic criminal, and the Ranger has understandably mistaken this devil-may-care outlaw for Hamish Vox Deltufo 111.
Well, both the Ranger and I had reckoned without Angel's oldest trick. He secretly triggers the control on the palm of his glove and pumps a high voltage charge through the shoulder guard of his top coat. In a crackle of light, the Ranger is flung back across the bar by a couple of thousand volts. Customers dive out of the way, glasses smash and in a moment, utter chaos has broken out, people shouting, milling around, trying to leave.
But the Ranger is far from finished, and is on his feet in an instant, landing a hefty left hook across Angel's smugly smiling face. It was a brave try, certainly, and he was quick, too, I'll give him that. But I knew that very little of Caleb Angel's body was still original flesh after a life like the one he's led, and the cybernetic alloys in his head and neck were more than a match for any blow the Ranger could deliver. In answer, Angel double punches upwards with the full force of his synthetic limbs and the Ranger spins away, a lotfurther than he did the first time. He lands with a crash in the middle of the corner table where three Orn wrestlers are sitting. He breaks their table. Worse still, he spills their drinks.
Orn wrestlers aren't friendly at the best of times. And this sure wasn't the best of times. The three of them get to their feet, towering over the fallen lawman, huge masses of muscle and scar tissue, each weighing in at least six hundred pounds. They grab the Ranger and, for a moment, I almost felt sorry for the poor guy. He struggles free from two of them, but the third delivers a back-handed slap that smashes the Ranger to the ground again. One of the others lifts an adamite-steel chair, snaps off a leg, and moves in to finish the bout.
The Ranger lies there stunned. Then, just before the blow falls, he raises his left arm, and presses his other hand against his chest.
Suddenly his arm is glowing with some kind of circuitry. To tell the truth, I don't know what it was. Anyway, the screams of the clientele are drowned out in a dreadful roar and a flash as the Ranger's left armsomehow fires a blast of energy.
It catches the Orn with the chairleg and blasts him backwards. He smashes into one of his companions and together they exit into the street via an ornamental iron-work partition.
The remaining Orn howls and rushes forward for revenge. Slow learners, the Orn. By now, the Ranger has scrambled to his feet and drawn his pistol. He fires stun bursts to stop the charging Orn. It takes six of them, full in the chest, before the Orn hits the ground like a Superfreighter landing without retro rockets.
All this time, the Ranger has had his back to Angel, who has calmly drawn his monstrous fusion bazooka and taken aim. I'm heading for the door now, I can tell you. I didn't want to be on the same planet whenthat thing fired.
But suddenly, in the crowd, I see the girl again. She's on her feet, now, and she's drawn a pistol too, pointing it in the vague direction of Angel. I suppose in an attempt to defend herself. Poor kid. She justdidn't know what she was doing. She probably still had the safety-catch on. I decide then and there that I have to save her, so I leap at her to pull her out of range of the blast. As I cannon into her, would youbelieve, her gun goes off. Pure chance, if you understand, stranger. The gods of the spaceways must have been smiling on me that day. Knocking into her, I straighten her aim so that she manages to hit Angel. Just luck, to tell the truth.
The full blast of the stun charge hits Angel squarely in the back. He stands for a moment, a funny look on his face, then he keels over like a Dagnian Glass Tree on a high-gravity world.
Well now, I shrink back into the shadows, 'cause the Ranger is in the clear now and will be looking around for me as soon as he realizes his mistake. He tells everyone to quiet down and says the show's over. Ashe bends to put the cuffs on Angel's sleeping form, the girl goes up to him and says something, gesturing in my direction. The Ranger looks up, and catches my eye, and we look at each other for a long moment. I get ready to draw my blitz laser for one last stand.
But then he says to the girl, 'No Niko, leave him.', heaves Angel across his shoulder, and leaves. The girl follows him. Don't ask me why. I guess that he realized I'd saved his life, and he must have figured because of that, he'd let me go this time and make do with small fry like Angel. A sense of honor, I suppose. A sense that, though he was after me, he also owed me one.
I walked away from Duffy's Place that night alive, and free until I met him again. That was years ago. He never did catch me.
And that, my friend, is why I figure the Galaxy Rangers owe me one, to tell the truth of it. Heh. I see from your face you still don't believe me. Well, I've told my story, and it's true, or my name's notHamish Vox Deltufo Ill. It's up to you whether you decide to believe it.
Another drink? Oh well, if you have to go, I don't mind. It's been nice talking to you. See you sometime, stranger.
Hey, I never caught your name...that so? Well, good night again Mr. Foxx. Take care now.
Heh heh.
Pardon me sir, I couldn't help overhearing. Did you say the Shrike gang? Well now, to tell the truth of it, I was the one who actually brought them to justice. A drink? Why, thank you. You see, it was years ago, in a bar like this..."
THE END
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