THE HIRED GUN
By Ke'Reth

The past. . . Like it or loath it, we all have one. Some philosophers argue that it’s the choices that we made in the past that shape our future. Ke’reth has a past. . . Spy, Thief, Bounty Hunter, Assassin, Ship’s Captain, Ambassador, Traveller, Warrior, Lover, and Killer. He’s done it all. But this story truly starts five years back, in the Summer of 2372. Ke’reth saved the life of a Terran woman, Alicia Masters from a gang of pirates, and returned her to Earth. And since that time, they have been good friends. .

Of course - back then, she was a Lieutenant Commander. Just a Federation Officer doing her job. At the time this story starts, Alicia Masters is a Captain in the Federal Bureau for Legal and Unified Enforcement, known to many by its acronym, as F-Blue. It takes a Starfleet officer two years of extra training under the auspices of the Judge Advocate General’s office to qualify as what used to be termed as a Federal Marshal in the old days of the Wild West. . .

Ke’reth strolled into the Embassy while mopping his ridged brow with a white towel. The towel stood out in stark contrast to the black workout clothes and heavy black sash that he wore to the Station’s Dojo. B’sel his Chief of Staff handed him his first black coffee of the morning. A Risan blend Terran coffee, and Risan Ocrova beans. He downed the hot sweet liquid in one and handed her back the cup. He then unhooked the black scabbarded Katana from his belt and idly picked the uppermost padd from his desk. It was only as B’sel turned her back and reached up to hang the sword that he spoke. “Anything happening?” She lifted a coded isolinear chip from her pouch. “This recorded message came through this morning. I would have called you but, I know how you hate your morning workout interrupted.” He smiled an odd sidelong smile at her, one that said more than thank you, and almost concealed a touch of irony. He dropped the small triangular red plastic tube into a slot on his desk, and keyed in his authorisation. A young woman’s face appeared on the screen. She was attempting casual conversation, but Ke’reth’s eyes had seen something more behind her cheery greeting. . .

“Hi, Ke’reth! Remember me? Alicia Masters. Sure you do,  Planet Baden Five; pirates; summer of Seventy two. You said if ever needed anything to look you up. Well. . .” She paused. “Gee, you’re an Ambassador now. And I had to get that from the Imperial Bureau of Information on Kronos. What did you used to do? Your name still makes people nervous. Do you know that? Well of course you do.” Ke’reth glanced at B’sel, who had moved to stand behind his chair. Pausing the message, he glanced up.

“She talks a lot and says nothing of note. A Terran failing.” B’sel sniped. “But she’s got troubles.”

Ke’reth looked at her for a moment. “Women’s intuition?” Ke’reth asked as he unpaused the message.

“Experience!” B’sel corrected him.  -  The woman continued. . .

“Are you familiar with the dilithium mining colony on New Frontera?”

B’sel interrupted the recording. “It’s a small dusty Class ‘M’ planet in the Chelrun system. It was considered pretty unremarkable until  a number of heavy dilithium deposits were found on the planet’s northern continent. It started to attract prospectors and other undesirable types. The main settlement is known locally as Nova Rosa. It’s outside the Federation but a number of Federation backed mining teams and negotiators have been sent there to vie for mining rights, with limited success. There were some problems. The Romulans accused the Ferengi of stealing, the Ferengi made a counter claim that the Romulans were trying to blacken their good name. A Federal Marshal died in mysterious circumstances. That’s why they banned all energy weapons from the planet.” She paused. “The usual quasi political mess.”

Ke’reth smiled at her. “One of three things is happening here.” he said, as he steepled his fingers on his chest and leaned back on his chair. “One, you’re reading my mail! Two, you know that from memory, and need to get yourself a hobby, as you’ve way too much free time on your hands! Or three, you’re turning ‘*Vulky ‘ on me.” (* Racist slang for one who behaves in a Vulcan like manner.)

“I believe it’s my duty as your Chief of Staff to be well informed. I’ve already made an appointment for you with Captain T’Pina to have your shuttle, the Wolf-Fang to be made ready for departure from shuttlebay one. She has some papers for you to sign, to have you temporarily deputised as a Federal Martial.”

Ke’reth glanced at her. “Anything else?” he asked. She shook her head, “Only this.” She handed him a padd. “Local fashions favour those of the North American Continent, circa nineteenth century, old calendar.”

Ke’reth left the room for his private office to change. Half an hour later two large transport cases were pushed from his office. She suppressed a smile as Ke’reth re-entered the room in black boots and a long black duster coat. Under that he wore black denim trousers, black cotton shirt and a waistcoat. His hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. Slung around his waist was a holster containing a pair of lethal fourteen round, twelve millimetre automatic pistols. Her eyes fell on a black leather energy whip. “A nice touch!” she mocked. He grinned without really meaning it.

She took a box out from behind her back. “I took the liberty of replicating you a present” she smiled.

He took the box and cautiously opened it. She removed the black stetson with its studded hat band and placed it on his head. Ke’reth grinned as he pulled down the brim. “You realise that the good guy should be wearing a white hat?”

"That’s just a myth.” she replied. “Anyway, it wouldn’t go with the outfit.”

Ke’reth looked around the room. “Have these taken to the shuttle”, he gestured to the cases as he pulled on a pair of black fingerless leather gloves.  He turned to leave, then stopped himself. “Oh! Before I forget, have Case ‘Treble X One’ loaded. I think I may need her.” And with a raise of his hat, he turned and left. . .

Don’t let anyone ever tell you that a Vulcan has no sense of humour. Ke’reth was sure that T’Pina had smiled at his unorthodox appearance as the doors opened to her office, but she just handed him a padd. He speed read it, then placed his thumb on the dermal scanning pad. It bleeped, as if to thank him for his compliance. She then handed him a star shaped communicator; upon it’s surface was engraved ‘F - B.L.U.E. and in smaller letters beneath those was inscribed. ‘To serve and protect.’ Ke’reth clipped it to the inside of his coat. . .

Three days passed at warp nine as Ke’reth travelled under cloak to Chelrun system. New Frontera loomed before him. Even from space it looked dull, its surface a pot marked golf ball in shades from dull red through to muddy yellow.  He set the shuttle’s controls to automatic and stood up. The lights came on.  Ke’reth entered the shuttle’s cargo hold. He pulled open a door on a large crate marked Treble X one and stepped inside. Alarms sounded as he braced himself. The case suddenly jettisoned itself, falling end over end. It righted itself as it started to glow red in the planet’s outer atmosphere, then amber and blue and finally white as a series of retro thrusters slowed its descent to less that fifty kilometres per second. Then three large black parachutes opened above the case. It landed with a light thud. As the glow from its anti-gravs faded, a door opened and steam bellowed out as the cool air from inside mixed with the desert heat. Something black roared out from the container. A sleek black Repulsor bike roared towards a small settlement at almost three hundred kilometres per hour. . .

The buildings were an odd mixture of wooden huts and modern life support modules, each with their own replicators and air conditioning. Ke’reth’s eyes scanned the building as he slowed the bike to walking pace. Then he saw it. A white plasteel shell with a gold star painted on it. It sat between the jailhouse module and and the Assay Office and across the road from the aptly named Last Chance Saloon. Ke’reth dismounted and walked across to the Sheriff’s office. Once inside he moved with practised stealth. He came upon a woman sitting with her back to the door. She jumped as his silhouette was projected onto the white of her notice board. Her hand reached out for her pistol as a bolt of black lightning struck the gun and sent it spinning to the floor. With a clattering sound it fell into her waste basket. “Ke’reth!” She yelped.

“You were expecting someone else?” he asked as he stepped into the room and threw his hat onto the hat stand with a flick of his wrist.

“I’m sure glad it was you with that power whip.” she said as she retrieved her pistol. “Anyone else would have taken my fingers off with that trick.” She stepped up to embrace him. He noticed that her shirt had been left unbuttoned almost halfway down. Her shoulder and upper chest had been heavily bandaged, and her arm was in a sling.

“Frontier medicine’s not what it was?” he jested as he saw the three red marks through the bandage. “Someone around here been using your heart for target practice?” he grinned “Looks like your local cupid plays for keeps. Two inches lower, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

She nodded.as she rebuttoned her shirt. “Doc Brown said pretty much the same thing. He could have fixed me right up, but someone trashed the surgery last week. Smashed all of his equipment. He had to dig the bullets out by hand, and sew me up like a cheap suit.”

Ke’reth smiled. “Wait here, I’ll get my med kit.” He came back into the room with the black case that he’d left just inside the door. “Take your shirt off!” he ordered. She blushed. Ke’reth looked up from his case, a medical tricorder in one hand and a dermal regenerator in the other.

“I usually get flowers and a meal before, it take my top off.” she said, smiling coquettishly. He nodded. As she disrobed Ke’reth pulled on the bandage, revealing three neatly stitched wounds. His thumb moved the dermal regenerator’s switch to deep muscle setting and applied it to her wound, all the time eying his tricorder. Within the hour her skin was unmarked. Ke’reth then helped her back into the bandage. “Let’s keep your miraculous recovery a secret shall we?” he asked, a glint of mischief in his eye. “Tell me who I’m going to arrest”.

She picked up a remote control and flashed it at her computer. “First up is Devran Aar. He’s the boss. No one in this town has dared to speak out against him.”

Ke’reth smiled. “You did!”

“Yeah!” she replied, “and look where it got me.” He smiled as she continued:- “Hurgrek is a Gorn, wanted for murder in ten systems. Nilg is a Ferengi, a thief for hire. Then there are three Human brothers, Jake, Al, and Zed Ryan. They’re just hired muscle. My forensic tricorder has them down for smashing up Doc Brown’s surgery among other things. Then there’s an Orion by the name of Idred. He’s got a record for murder, assault, starship theft. He actually had the balls to steal a runabout. It was about three months back, from Starbase Five. There’s a Federation warrant. out on him. That one takes priority. Then last but not least, there’s Kre’muk.” Ke’reth’s eyes narrowed.

“A Klingon?” Ke’reth asked, eyes widening. . .

“You’re not all honourable warriors.” He nodded sadly. She pulled up his crime sheet. Murder, assault, illegal transport of both weapons and controlled substances.”

Ke’reth growled a low disgusted snarl. “Where are the people who did this to you?”

“Over in the saloon. But they won’t come quietly. I tried that, remember?”

The big Klingon grinned. “Perhaps, you forgot to say please!”.

"Careful!” She called out.

“Always!” he replied, and was gone.

Ke’reth pulled his hat down over his eyes and as he walked across the dust covered street to the saloon, a Gorn stepped out into his path. “You ain’t welcome here, stranger.” it snarled through its universal translator. Ke’reth turned away hearing it snort with laughter. It didn’t laugh for long, as Ke’reth roundhouse kicked it to the head. The Gorn howled in pain. Ke’reth landed then flipped his foot out and mid kicked the stunned Gorn. The lizard screamed as it shot backwards through the swing doors, landing hard on a poker table sending coloured chips flying. A number of thugs went for their guns as a howl of automatic gunfire splintered the bar and sent broken glass into the air. The thugs looked up at Ke’reth. As a heavy set human tried to get the Klingon with a head lock from behind, Ke’reth broke the man’s grip, and landed him atop the the Gorn, who was getting unsteadily to his feet. A Ferengi reached out for his gun as Ke’reth pushed in a new clip into his own and fired again, sending the gun spinning out of the Ferengi’s reach. Ke’reth made a loud tutting sound as he noticed the shadow of a pair of feet behind a curtained off doorway. The barrel of a rifle poked between the drapes. Ke’reth dropped to one knee and shot at the curtain rail dropping the heavy cloth onto his assailant. Ke’reth then pulled the curtain covered figure into the room and after giving it three swift elbow strikes pushed him into the Terran and the Gorn who were trying to untangle themselves and stand up. All three were sent flying into the corner. “Who are you?” Gasped the Ferengi.

Ke’reth grinned, flashing his silver badge. “Let’s just say, that there’s a new sheriff in town!” He reached into the bag he’d been carrying and threw them each a pair handcuffs. “Put them on, gentlemen. We’re all going to gaol. Each set has a green light on them. That tells me they’re locked. Understood?”

As Ke’reth backed into the street he heard a curse in Klingon. “Die PetaQ!”

Ke’reth ducked as a bat’leth missed his right ear by inches. A second blow missed his chest, a third his arm.

“Come on!” Ke’reth howled. “You fight like a little girl.” The warrior charged Ke’reth who side stepped him and delivered his elbow into the warrior’s spine. Another curse as Ke’reth brought his hands up under the blade, grabbing the handles and rolling onto his back, placed his feet squarely in his enemy’s chest. He used his opponent’s weight against him, flipping the warrior over his head and dumping him unceremoniously into a large horse trough. Ke’reth snapped the bat’leth out of the dazed Klingon’s hands and knocked him cold with a two fingered punch to the temple. “Why don’t you cool off!”

Ke’reth spun around as he heard a muffled scream. “Put your weapons down Klingon.”

Ke’reth then realised that he’d lost his hat during the brawl. “You’ve already lost!” Devran Aar held a knife to Alicia’s throat and he was mocking Ke’reth. Ke’reth hated to be mocked. He dropped the gun belt and stepped toward his enemy. “Take another step and I’ll cut this bitch a new smile.” Ke’reth smiled. Aar looked confused, but quickly recovered his dignity. “Nice try, but I plugged her earlier, and I can take this woman anytime you like.”

Alica waited until the man was arguing with Ke’reth. His grip loosened slightly. She grabbed his arm and slammed his fist against her knee to break his grip on his knife. She then dropped to one knee and flipped him onto his back. Ke’reth stepped forward and kicked the knife away then placed his foot on Aar’s throat. “I - don’t - lose!” he growled.

What happened to your injuries?” asked Devran Aar, as he looked up. “I shot you.”

She pulled a small log recorder from behind her back. “That sounds like a confession to me.” Ke’reth winked at her.

Around an hour later Ke’reth saddled up his hoverbike and road off into the sunset. Alicia wiped a piece of grit from her eye, and perhaps a tear. Then she smiled as Ke’reth powered up the bike’s engines and caused it to rear up like asStallion against the red disk of the setting sun causing him to become a silhouette. He twirled his hat and was gone. She brushed herself down, then smiled as she found a small piece of paper had been slipped into her pocket. On it was scrawled a simple message. ‘Call me sometime.’

Three days passed when B’sel was startled by a dusty black figure standing in the Embassy’s doorway. “Welcome home sStranger.”

He smiled. as he threw her his hat. “It’s good to be. . .” he paused. “Tell me something?” She looked at him as he hung up his coat. “When did I start to think of this Starfleet ‘spinning top’ as home?”

She shrugged. “You must be mellowing in your old age.”

---- End ----