grinned and hooked a thumb toward Harley. “Harley here is a rare breed. An enigma in our modern world. On his right hip, he carries his sidearm low, like a gunslinger of ages old; on his left he carries a sword, steely and ready to tear flesh from limb. So is he a cowboy or is he a pirate? Does he even know? Does either belong in the New Age of Discovery?”
“May be I’m both.” Harley lit a cigarette.
“May be.” Victor raised his beer to him. “I know about the cowboy side, but enlighten me about the pirate side, Harley.”
Harley pulled the cutlass from its scabbard, it sang as he freed it. “This is a replica of the 1917 cutlass once used by sailors of the United States Navy.”
“Navy?” Victor grinned.
“The United States once had a navy, the greatest navy in the history of man.” Harley’s voice betrayed the slightest hint of respect, the slightest hint of remorse.
“And today it is a bureaucracy of the Founder Federation, just like every other nation on earth.”
Harley nodded. “May be. But once, it was an empire and we all owned a piece of it. This,” and he held the sword above his head, smiling softly, “was a weapon of honor. High-tempered steel, it is long enough to serve its purpose and short enough to serve it well.”
“With a blaster on one hip, why do you need a sword on the other?” Quinlan asked, picking at a deer steak he had no interest in eating.
“Because technology can fail you, but if you hone your skills and sharpen your blade, then your strength and your sword never will. As long as you have those you can fight on and in the end, that’s all that matters, being able to fight on.”
“You used to be a cowboy?” The boy asked between bites of deer steak. “I learned about cowboys. You used to ride horses?”
“Oh yes!” Victor crowed. “Harley used to be a cowboy. He used to ride a horse on the range, herd cattle, all that happy shit of days long gone. Your horse tried to eat you, didn’t he Harley, when the Rages came?”
Harley took the Stetson from his head, wiped away some of the dust on its brim and scowled at the big deputy. “He didn’t try to eat me. He tried to stomp me to death.”
Victor grinned. He had an aggravating grin. Harley motioned to his elongated arms. “I guess you’re still only sleeping with fillers with a body like that?”
“Oh, you’d be surprised how many want to be wrapped in these arms Harley.” Victor winked.
“Just fillers I’d reckon.” Harley smiled.
Fillers were simulations on the Link, background people who did not display real personalities, but would respond to whatever desires you happened to wish. They were particularly popular as love interests for those just looking for satisfaction in whatever form it might take or for those who were less than charming.
It was Victor’s turn to scowl. “Have you seen any zombies in your travels Harley?”
Harley almost lied but in the end did not. “There’s a tribe about 10 miles down the canyon on the other side of this slide. You’ll have to hike in.”
“Ten miles?” The big deputy grinned in the darkness. “Why would we need to hike? You mean to tell me you hiked all the way up the canyon from Price?”
Harley shook his head. “Didn’t say that I did. I have a truck.”
“Then we can hike over the slide and use your truck to get us there.”
“Don’t think so.”
Victor narrowed his formative brow. “And why not?”
“My truck. I’ll need it when I get back from the Hub.”
“And it’ll be there when we’re done with it.”
Harley considered for a moment. “You let me take your truck to the Hub and I’ll let you take mine to the Wrynd camp.”
“Not likely.”
“Then no deal.”
“I could just take it from you.”
Harley nodded, put his hat back on his head. “You could try.”
Victor took a large bite of his steak and laughed between chews. “Good enough. How long will you be at the Hub?”
“No longer than 48
“May be I’m both.” Harley lit a cigarette.
“May be.” Victor raised his beer to him. “I know about the cowboy side, but enlighten me about the pirate side, Harley.”
Harley pulled the cutlass from its scabbard, it sang as he freed it. “This is a replica of the 1917 cutlass once used by sailors of the United States Navy.”
“Navy?” Victor grinned.
“The United States once had a navy, the greatest navy in the history of man.” Harley’s voice betrayed the slightest hint of respect, the slightest hint of remorse.
“And today it is a bureaucracy of the Founder Federation, just like every other nation on earth.”
Harley nodded. “May be. But once, it was an empire and we all owned a piece of it. This,” and he held the sword above his head, smiling softly, “was a weapon of honor. High-tempered steel, it is long enough to serve its purpose and short enough to serve it well.”
“With a blaster on one hip, why do you need a sword on the other?” Quinlan asked, picking at a deer steak he had no interest in eating.
“Because technology can fail you, but if you hone your skills and sharpen your blade, then your strength and your sword never will. As long as you have those you can fight on and in the end, that’s all that matters, being able to fight on.”
“You used to be a cowboy?” The boy asked between bites of deer steak. “I learned about cowboys. You used to ride horses?”
“Oh yes!” Victor crowed. “Harley used to be a cowboy. He used to ride a horse on the range, herd cattle, all that happy shit of days long gone. Your horse tried to eat you, didn’t he Harley, when the Rages came?”
Harley took the Stetson from his head, wiped away some of the dust on its brim and scowled at the big deputy. “He didn’t try to eat me. He tried to stomp me to death.”
Victor grinned. He had an aggravating grin. Harley motioned to his elongated arms. “I guess you’re still only sleeping with fillers with a body like that?”
“Oh, you’d be surprised how many want to be wrapped in these arms Harley.” Victor winked.
“Just fillers I’d reckon.” Harley smiled.
Fillers were simulations on the Link, background people who did not display real personalities, but would respond to whatever desires you happened to wish. They were particularly popular as love interests for those just looking for satisfaction in whatever form it might take or for those who were less than charming.
It was Victor’s turn to scowl. “Have you seen any zombies in your travels Harley?”
Harley almost lied but in the end did not. “There’s a tribe about 10 miles down the canyon on the other side of this slide. You’ll have to hike in.”
“Ten miles?” The big deputy grinned in the darkness. “Why would we need to hike? You mean to tell me you hiked all the way up the canyon from Price?”
Harley shook his head. “Didn’t say that I did. I have a truck.”
“Then we can hike over the slide and use your truck to get us there.”
“Don’t think so.”
Victor narrowed his formative brow. “And why not?”
“My truck. I’ll need it when I get back from the Hub.”
“And it’ll be there when we’re done with it.”
Harley considered for a moment. “You let me take your truck to the Hub and I’ll let you take mine to the Wrynd camp.”
“Not likely.”
“Then no deal.”
“I could just take it from you.”
Harley nodded, put his hat back on his head. “You could try.”
Victor took a large bite of his steak and laughed between chews. “Good enough. How long will you be at the Hub?”
“No longer than 48
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