Part XVII – Voices

This is Part XVII of the serial space western The Ghosts of Blackmoon Rift. It is also available for download in RTF format here. Or click here for a complete episode listing.

Part XVII – Voices

Three pairs of eyes and one set of sensors surveyed the wrecked campsite with deepening unease. The world seemed very still, suddenly. Somewhere, loose gravel rattled. Somewhere, wood creaked.

“This must be what they call a ‘dead silence’,” whispered Crash.

“Hush,” said Miss Kitty.

“We can’t stay here,” he snapped.

“Why not?” asked Murphy. “This is my favorite boulder.”

“If we stay here, we’re doing just what They want us to do!” hissed Crash urgently. “They keep us pinned down and scared. We’re playing right into their twisted game. We’ve gotta stack the deck and play the hand that was dealt us, because two in the hand is worth one in the bush!”

“Meaning?” said Miss Kitty. Almost immediately she was sorry she asked. Crash stood up, stepped from behind the boulder, cupped his hands to his mouth and bellowed, “HEY! Show yourselves you lily-livered lane hogs!”

His words bounced off the hills and echoed among the boarded-up houses in the valley. As the echoes died away, another sound rose in their place – a disquieting, raucous laughter.

“Captain Maxwell Zero,” boomed a voice. “I see you. The inescapable Eye of Justice sees you!”

Crash spun around wildly, trying to see the speaker, but there was no sign of anyone.

“The acoustics down here mean that voice could come from anywhere,” whispered Torr.

Miss Kitty nodded.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Crash shouted.

“I want justice, Captain Zero,” said the voice.

Murphy expanded two his maximum height of two feet. His brow was furrowed. “That voice sounds familiar,” he murmured.

“I ain’t done nothing’ wrong!” called Crash.

“No? You’ve never sped in a sub-light zone? You’ve never parked a little too close to a gravity well? You’ve never taken off without filing a flight plan? Everyone, Captain, has done something wrong.”

“No,” said Murphy, “it can’t be.”

“And everyone,” said the voice, “must answer for it!”

“Who is this guy, Murph?” asked Crash out of the side of his mouth.

“I am the long arm of the Law!” howled the voice.

“It’s Flanagan!” hissed Murphy. “The fellow I was babysitting when I got stranded on this lousy rock! Featherweight rich kid, couldn’t hit a fly with a rubber band, and he’d probably shoot himself in the eye if he tried.”

Miss Kitty gestured upward. The silhouette of a man could be seen atop the hill before the hot blue sky. Miss Kitty snatched up Murphy’s projector and motioned for Torr to stay.

“What does the Law want with my underwear, which it has obviously been going through?” shouted Crash. As he did, Miss Kitty crept from behind the boulder and dashed toward the path up the hill, hugging the cliff face as she did so.

“Criminals have no rights!” screamed the voice.

“Criminals?” asked Crash. “What have you actually SEEN me do?”

There was a pause, and then the voice announced, “You’re trespassing!”

. . .

Miss Kitty sped up the path. She scrambled nimbly up a rock outcropping, then shimmied up a nearly-vertical face, Murphy perched on her shoulder.

“You’re doing great!” he said. “We’re not a dozen meters from the top!” Miss Kitty gave him a dirty look, but saved her breath.

. . .

“Don’t think your friends can hide from me, Captain Zero!” boomed the voice. “I know all about Dr. Egan Torr. I know all about Katherine Rowland. And I’ve been watching… Mark Five Nova for some time!”

“Don’t believe everything you read, Flanagan,” said Miss Kitty, stepping onto the crown of the hill. “Crash down there is awful fond of spaceship catalogs.”

A man spun to face her. Even filthy and bedraggled, the bright red of his hair showed through. He was scrawny, as if he hadn’t eaten in days, and his clothes were tattered. But there was a maniacal look in his wide eyes that gave her pause.

“Flan, my man, what are you doing? What’s with this Long Arm of the Law shtick?” asked Murphy.

“I am the Law!”

“That seems like a pretty tall order for one guy, Flan,” said Murphy coolly. “You sure you shouldn’t take a break for a while? You look pretty hungry. They’ve got some food down there.”

“Get away from me!” Flanagan screeched. “You know nothing, betrayer! You are no man; you’re a tool, a spy! I have been deputized to bring order to this place!”

“Flan, you were asked to see what Wallace was up to by some government spook. You haven’t even been deputized. You can’t arrest diddly.”

“Diddly-do, diddly-do!” said Flanagan in a sing-song voice, “but I can arrest yooo!” He twirled around rather gracefully. Miss Kitty and Murphy exchanged wide-eyed looks.

“Okay, you’re the boss Mr. Flanagan,” said Miss Kitty. “Don’t you get all excited now. I’m just gonna stay right here.”

“Does this world do this to everybody?” asked Murphy. “Flanagan,” he said, “you need to give back whatever you took from these nice folks’ campsite.”

“I need to see their papers!” said Flanagan. “Or I’ll hold them all for trespassing!”

“You aren’t holding anybody! This isn’t your land!”

Flanagan suddenly became very solemn and still. “Oh no,” he said in a hushed voice. “Not my land! But their land, yes! They own it all, every doorpost and lintel of it!”

“There’s a town down there, Mr. Flanagan,” said Miss Kitty. “That’s public property, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Tell it to the judge,” said Flanagan, and then began laughing hysterically. “He’ll tell you – it’s their land!”

“Okay Flan,” said Murphy. “Who’s this judge? Where do we talk to him?”

“He’s down in the town!” said Flanagan. He giggled. “He’s probably cleansing it right now!”

. . .

Down below, the voice had quieted. Crash and Torr could hear some sort of conversation drifting down from the top of the hill, but they could make nothing of it. Crash’s attention drifted rapidly.

“Professor,” he said, “we’d better search the town.”

“What? Why?”

“There might be more of these crazies around. Wouldn’t want them scaring Miss Kitty.”

“Miss Kitty’s up there with one of them right now!”

“She’ll be alright.” Crash pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Okay, Professor,” he said. “You check the houses on this side of the street, I’ll check the ones on that side. We’ll work our way through the town and keep in sight of each other.”

“What if we find someone?” asked Torr.

“Just hold them until I get there! Okay, you get started on this one, I’ll check that one.”

Torr eyed the nearest shack – it could barely be called a house – dubiously. Its tin roof was rusted and its windows patched and boarded. Surely the door would be locked. He put his hand on the knob – and it turned easily. Torr cracked open the door and peered into total darkness. He pushed it open a bit wider. The door creaked. Something rustled within.

“See anything?” hollered Crash from across the street.

“Not a thing!” replied Torr, hurriedly shutting the door.

“Okay, let’s do the next one!”

. . .

Miss Kitty sprinted forward and shoved Flanagan aside. He flopped to the ground with a surprised “hey!”

Kitty peered over the cliff. “They’re gone!” she said. “Crash and Torr are gone. Oh no,” she said, “they’re in the town.”

. . .

“We’ll have this whole town cleared in no time,” said Crash. “Why, I do believe it’s completely empty!” He peered briefly inside the next door, then shoved it closed. “Good here!” he said.

“This one smells like smoke,” called Torr.

“What?” Crash sniffed. “You know what?” he said, “I do smell smoke. Think it’s coming from here or there?”

Torr was staring at Crash. “I think it might be coming from your side of the street,” he said in a small voice. Crash turned around slowly. In the doorway he had just checked stood a big man in a coat. In one hand he held a large book, and in the other, a burning torch.

“Why hello there,” he said with a smile, and then he hit Crash with the book.

Crash went reeling into the middle of the street and Torr gave a small shriek.

“Woe to ye thieves and trespassers!” said the man in a loud voice. “The hour of judgment is upon ye!”

“Who are you?” asked Torr.

“I had another name once,” said the man gravely. “But it was taken from me. Now I am The Judge.”

“What was your other name?” asked Torr.

The man cocked his head to one side and looked thoughtful. “Bill,” he said. He stretched out his arms and spun slowly around. “This place has been built on hallowed land. Those who built it have shut the door to knowledge. They must be cleansed!” With these words, tongues of fire leapt from the building behind him, immediately followed by the sound of the roof collapsing. “Judgment!” crowed the man delightedly, and then he went running down the street.

“Crash,” said Torr, running to his side, “are you injured?”

“Nah,” groaned Crash, “just caught me off guard, that’s all.” He clambered to his feet. “Where did he go?”

Torr pointed down the street. “I doubt you’ll catch him,” he said. “He was fast.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Crash, looking at something behind Torr. “I bet I can go faster.”

Torr turned to see the hoversled, parked in the shadow of an alleyway. “Crash,” he said, “I really think we should let him go.”

But Crash was already throwing one leg over the back of the vehicle. “I’ve got to stop him before he burns down the whole town!” he shouted. “Find Miss Kitty and keep an eye on her!” Then, before Torr could protest, he blew down the street in a storm of dust. As Torr watched him go, Miss Kitty came running up from the other direction, Murphy bouncing on her back. “Torr,” she gasped, “there’s someone – “

“Yes,” said Torr, “I know.” Beside him, another building collapsed in flames.

To Be Continued…

(Part XVIII is here.)