An old west tale... in space.

6.1

Oscar Anderson saw Doc Hemingway kill the two men in front of the Jewel. It sent his knees shaking.

He saw Doc twenty years ago again, using those same reflexes while in his WarMek.

It had a name, didn’t it? All the great ones did. Snapdragon, it was called Snapdragon.

He placed his hand against the wall, held himself up. That was barely doing it. His arms were shaking now.

“Mister Anderson,” the kid said from a thousand miles away. “Are you alright, Mister Anderson?”

His Mek hadn’t earned a name, but he knew it well. He could see through its view screen right now. He could see the metal and the thunder all around him, the steel coffins exploding.

Death was everywhere, death all around him.

Doc Hemingway and that other huge maniac were there, what was his name? Most of the death came from them. Blue and white metal coffins crumpled around them.

“Huh? What?” He asked the kid, he needed his other arm now to stop him from falling.

Sheriff Hardback showed up out of nowhere. He saw the carcasses, inspected them for just a few seconds and then went into Lazlo’s. He didn’t have any deputies with him.

Weren’t there usually deputies?

Doc came out of Lazlo’s with the Sheriff. They walked up to the two bodies and started talking quietly amongst themselves.

Anderson’s eyes found his CE. It was turned off but it was right there. Now if only his legs would get him there.

“Your color, Mister Anderson…” Billy again, a million miles away now. “It don’t look so good. Do you---do you need anything sir?”