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Graax has told Buck about how his people came to Earth and how there’s primarily two different races on Squaattoos.
The Lebe’piti were made from the Pxelepiti. The Pxelepiti are motivated by self-gain and sex. They were the original people on Squaattoos, better suited for survival in a savage world. The Lebe’piti, “the changed people” are motivated by the achievement of knowledge in and for the sake of itself, and they also do things for the greatest good. Graax saw six disguised Pxelepiti at church. That can only mean that they’re on Earth and up to no good.
Buck believes Contention City should take Graax’s warning seriously and kill or capture these Pxelepiti. The members of the Contention City Council—except for mind controlled Hardy—ignore him. They say Graax’s warning is due to ill feelings from back on Squaattoos. There’s no reason to get in the middle of that fight, they maintain.
For more information and Science Fiction Western adventure see www.sfwestern.com .
Episode 36
No matter what was said about the brrkup, I believed it impossible to regard it as anything but a good thing. It improved many lives, but the one I was most amazed with was Skinner Alexander's. Who would have thought he could go from card sharp to respectable citizen? Amazingly, it happened. I found it gratifying to see him succeed, hold a job, treat his family decently and behave with newfound honesty.
And I was partly responsible. Yes, it was the quick and efficient action of the brrkup enabling his salvation, but I was the one who brought it to town.
Everything in this world comes with a cost, unfortunately. Now it was time for Skinner to pay the price for his success. When I needed him for the posse, I found him repairing the roof of his mail-order house.
No person or object is perfect. The brrkup was no exception. I'd come to accept its flaws, such as the mind-control and the truth-telling features, as a matter of course. Yes, they left the device with a potential for abuse, but I tried to mitigate those flaws by not revealing them to anyone.
Before the brrkup, a lollygagger like Skinner would have waited weeks before trying to pick himself up from the wreckage his life had become after the storm. The change wasn't short of miraculous.
I disliked having to pull Skinner away to possibly fight and die. It's said wars are the price one pays for peace. I say some things should rightfully be gratis.
I hoped everyone I tabbed came home alive, though I'd have been surprised if they did. If Graax was right, there'd be many opportunities for men to die in the most important war in human history.
Because I would have a small force, it was a blessing the brrkup negated cowardice in the face of overwhelming force. I could easily envision the unclipped fleeing at the slightest hint of trouble. Many Indian tribes fought with unquestioned bravery, but they'd have fought still better had they had such a device.
I hoped Fortune would favor us, even though I had my doubts. I lacked a brrkup, even if I'd considered getting one many times. At this point, there would be no time to recover from the headaches that followed implantation. My full faculties were needed.
"I need you to come with me. I've got important work for you," I said quietly. I remembered Skinner's wife's tirade though the streets of Contention. Though the brainclip gave the nineteen-year-old brunette the inclination to follow the number two rule, it didn't change her basic firebrand nature.
It was not a time to debate an argument hinging on whether she believed Graax. If she'd
have been a man, I'd have immediately sought her out and mind controlled her. Her fighting spirit would've been invaluable. I still might have taken her along if she hadn't had children to look after. Somebody taught her fighting well. The relaxed way she wielded a shotgun, she looked like she knew a lot more than the barrel from the butt, though it might have been a little heavy for her.
"Darling!" Skinner called out a little after I put my hand on his forehead to control him. "I'm going with Sheriff Turner."
She came to the door carrying a hamper full of laundry. Even after a disaster, clean clothes are a good thing. The placement of my hands looked strange, I realized. I had answers ready when someone questioned me. I'd say I was wiping the sweat out of their eyes, going after a speck of dirt, fixing their hair or something like that.
She nodded and said nothing about my hands. "How long are you going to be gone, dear?" she asked in a possessive way, setting my nerves on edge. "I've got to start fixins for dinner soon."
"I don't know," Skinner said, shrugging. "Ask Sheriff."
"We're going to be gone as long as it takes to get done what needs to be done," I said.
"That doesn't mean a whole lot to me. Going to be back home for dinner?" she said.
"It'll likely be a few days," I said.
"He's not in any kind of trouble. Is he?"
"No ma'm. I just need a posse," I said, being short with the woman. Further explanation wasn't necessary. "We've got to get going."
"It's my business when it concerns my husband," she said. "It affects our family."
I smiled tersely. "Don't worry, Mrs. Alexander. I'm going to bring your husband back to you as soon as possible."
She wasn't a person I wanted to make an enemy out of; I tried to strike a balance between both imperatives. A worried wife could stir up the Council, get them to fire me, and have them to send another posse for me. I could foresee me and my men ending up in crossfire between the new posse and the Pxelepiti.
I considered mind controlling Judy Alexander, but such an effort would prove ultimately futile. Without my persistent influence, the commands would dissipate. The person's original mind would override the instructions after a time.
I knew that when we returned with proof, all would be forgotten and forgiven by everyone, including Judy Alexander. That was okay with me if they all forgot how they opposed me, as long as humanity faced the Pxelepiti threat squarely. We might not be able to defend ourselves successfully against a people who traveled between stars, but we wouldn't gain anything if we refused to face them.
"Why don't you say goodbye to your children, Skinner?" I suggested. There was always time for that, especially on a mission that could end in death. "They might be in bed when you get back home."
He hugged Junior and Chastity. "Daddy's going to be coming back home as soon as he can," he told them.
"Hug your other one," Judy Alexander said, pointing to her stomach.
Surprised, I said, "You're in a family way?"
"I am," she said pleasantly.
"I bet you're carrying a girl."
"Why do you say that, Sheriff?"
"Because you're looking healthy, and you're able to do laundry and such. A girl baby agrees with a woman's system better."
"Is that true?"
"Sure," I said. "It's in one of my wife's books. That’s what she told me anyway."
Had I known about the unborn child, I'd have tabbed somebody else. It would be terrible for the unborn one to not know their daddy if something happened. But as it was, it was getting late, and I was short of ideas. Skinner was going.
You're probably worrying for nothing. Everything's going to turn out all right. I told myself that again and again.
There was no other way. It was fate. Everyone who'd been brainclipped had become respectable, developed attachments, and became concerned over the welfare of their fellow man. I might as well take a brainclipped citizen with a reputation as a powerful fighter.
If the Alexander family breadwinner gets killed, I'll see to it they don't starve. Such a promise to myself was the best I could do at the time.
Judy and the kids lined up at their front door to see us off. Skinner waved goodbye as we rode away.
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