Gunfight on Europa Station, page 1
Table of Contents
FOREWORDIS SPACE ACTUALLY THE FINAL FRONTIER?
GREENHORN
THE PENULTIMATE STAND OF PINA GRACCHI
SHOWDOWN ON BIG ROCK 27
HYDRATION
WINNER TAKES ALL
LAST STAND AT EUROPA STATION A
RIDERS OF THE ENDLESS VOID
SEEDS
RIDING THE STORM OUT
INCIDENT AT RAVEN’S RIFT
CLAIM JUMPED
DOC HOLLIDAY 2.0
ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTORS
Gunfight on Europa Station
Edited by David Boop
ALL-NEW STORIES TAKE THE WILD, WILD WEST TO THE FINAL FRONTIER
An actual wagon train to space?
Gunslinging cowpokes riding in rickety rocketships?
What isn’t possible when you mix science fiction and Westerns?
The final frontier ain’t so final in these 12 tales of space exploration and adventure: each a timeless yarn told around the warm glow of a nuclear reactor just before it goes supernova. There’s a story for everyone who’s ever dreamed of traveling the stars.
From the lone stranger who flies into town to help a widow and her daughter to the alien rancher trying to pose as human, they are familiar, yet with completely new twists. Take the pair of mercenaries who sign on to stop a mining camp insurrection only to discover they might be on the wrong side of the revolution, or the prospector who finds the strike of a lifetime but ends up stranded on a barren moon without hope of rescue. And if that’s not enough to catch your fancy, then how about a cloned Doc Holliday making his way in a future where both sickness and gambling are ancient history?
Assembled inside are the biggest names in science fiction, taking you to the farthest reaches of the galaxy like they’ve never done before. Elizabeth Moon, Alan Dean Foster, Jane Lindskold, and Wil McCarthy are some of the exciting yarn-spinners inside. So get ready to hit the hyper-thrusters as you set course for adventure, mystery, romance, and two-lasergun slinging action!
Featuring Elizabeth Moon, Alan Dean Foster, Jane Lindskold, Wil McCarthy, Gini Koch, Martin Shoemaker, Cat Rambo with J.R. Martin, Alastair Mayer, Alex Shvartsman, Patrick Swenson, and Michael L. Haspil. Edited by David Boop (Straight Outta Tombstone).
David Boop is an award-winning essayist, recent Summa Cum Laude in creative writing (earned for a weird western piece), and former acquisition editor for both Flying Pen Press and Lifevest Publishing. David has been a journalist, actor, disc jockey, and stand-up comedian. He’s published across several genres, but specializes in weird westerns. Additionally, David has done media tie-in work for the Green Hornet, Veronica Mars, and the pulp hero the Black Bat (heavily disputed inspiration for Batman). He has collaborated with Kevin J. Anderson, the late C.J. Henderson, Peter J. Wacks, and Josh Vogt. He is a member of the Western Writers of America, the International Association of Media Tie-in Writers, the Horror Writers Association, and the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators.
BAEN BOOKS edited by DAVID BOOP
Straight Outta Tombstone
Straight Outta Deadwood
Straight Outta Dodge City
Gunfight on Europa Station
Gunfight on Europa Station
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2021 by David Boop
Additional Copyright Information:
Foreword copyright © 2021 by David Boop; “Greenhorn” copyright © 2021 by Elizabeth Moon; “The Penultimate Stand of Pina Gracchi” copyright © 2021 by Michael F. Haspil; “Showdown on Big Rock 27” copyright © 2021 by Jeanne Cook; “Hydration” copyright © 2021 by Alan Dean Foster; “Winner Takes All” copyright © 2021 by Alex Shvartsman; “Last Stand at Europa Station A” copyright © 2021 by David Boop; “Riders of the Endless Void” copyright © 2021 by Cat Rambo & Jermaine Martin; “Seeds” copyright © 2021 by Patrick Swenson; “Riding the Storm Out” copyright © 2021 by Martin L. Shoemaker; “Incident at Raven’s Rift” copyright © 2021 by Alastair Mayer; “Claim Jumped” copyright © 2021 by Obsidian Tiger Inc.; “Doc Holliday 2.0” copyright © 2021 by Wil McCarthy.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.
A Baen Books Original
Baen Publishing Enterprises
P.O. Box 1403
Riverdale, NY 10471
www.baen.com
ISBN: 978-1-9821-2572-1
eISBN: 978-1-62579-846-6
Cover art by Dominic Harman
First printing, November 2021
Distributed by Simon & Schuster
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
Printed in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Electronic Version by Baen Books
www.baen.com
To the Scientists and Engineers,
Whose minds and hearts are out in space,
Despite their feet being stuck here on Earth.
While we may all be made of “star stuff,”
Your dedication to bringing us
Closer to those stars gives me hope
Each and every day.
Yee-Haw, Space Cowboys!
CONTENTS
Foreword:
Is Space Actually the Final Frontier?
David Boop
Greenhorn
Elizabeth Moon
The Penultimate Stand of Pina Gracchi
Michael F. Haspil
Showdown on Big Rock 27
Gini Koch writing as Anita Ensal
Hydration
Alan Dean Foster
Winner Takes All
Alex Shvartsman
Last Stand at Europa Station A
David Boop
Riders of the Endless Void
Cat Rambo & J.R. Martin
Seeds
Patrick Swenson
Riding the Storm Out
Martin L. Shoemaker
Incident at Raven’s Rift
Alastair Mayer
Claim Jumped
Jane Lindskold
Doc Holliday 2.0
Wil McCarthy
About the Contributors
FOREWORD
IS SPACE ACTUALLY THE FINAL FRONTIER?
David Boop
When I was little, I begged my mom to buy me this small, portable TV for my room because, as she recalled, it reminded me of Star Trek. Mind you, this was before Star Wars ever came out, so I must have been six or seven at the time. Now, I’m sure some of you are thinking, “What parent allows the child to have their own TV at that age? Certainly, that would be a distraction from schoolwork and family time,” and so forth. And you wouldn’t be wrong. It was.
But that wagon train to the stars had already left.
Many of my earliest memories involved watching TV, due to my parents working and running a ministry. They were often hosting bible studies and television had become the great babysitter in that era. I connected quickly to shows like Star Trek, The Addams Family, The Six-Million Dollar Man, and Saturday afternoon pulp serials. I knew more about television than a TV Guide, and I certainly knew more about entertainment than I did my history, math, or science lessons.
Star Wars, and all the phenomenon that came with it, hit when I was nine years old. It just took me not just to the future, but to a galaxy far, far away. I studied the industry and always wanted to be a part of it. Now, I became interested in science and the stars and dreamed of traveling to them one day. None of those flights of fancy, such as space travel, or even making movies, have come to pass…yet (knock on the pseudo-wood of my desk). Instead, I wound up becoming an author and in doing so, understood for the first time that Gene Roddenberry lied to me, all those years ago.
Space was not the final frontier.
“What?” says the disbelieving reader. “Gene loved us and gave us a grand design for the future that involved exploring the galaxy in perfect harmony with one another.”
Yes, I know no one talks like that, and even if they did, they’re not wrong there, either. He did. I’d never besmirch the honored name of Roddenberry especially in print, where Paramount could see it. No, I’m only talking about the concept of there ever being a final frontier.
Merriam-Webster’s second definition of the word “frontier” is the one we most think of: a region that forms the margin of settled or developed territory, as in the western frontier. And while there are several other definitions, the one I tend to think most relevant to science fiction is the last: a new field for exploitative or developmental activity.
“Why this one?” you may ask. Well, because we can look at space exploration as just settling unexplored territories but, in truth, it’s so much more. Space is the realm of God or The Creators or the theoretical physicist looking for an opportunity to turn a theory into a fact. And not just one theory, but all of them.
In my novel She Murdered Me with Science (Wordfire Press, 2016), I use a quote from the philosopher Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, “God could cause us considerable embarrassment by revealing all the secrets of nature to us: we should not know what to do for sheer apathy and boredom.” This is one of my favorite quotes about science. And whether you believe in a divine being or not, the quote hits home. There must always be new things to explore. We’ve seen it in recent fiction and film and television.
No, we would just have new questions, new realities to dream up. We can never stop exploring, never find the actual final frontier. Because as Goethe said, we would be bored out of our evolved-lovin’ minds.
Here in these pages are eleven stories about exploring the penultimate frontier. Much like the frontiers of the past, these stories are filled with settlers overcoming adversity, rule breakers and justice seekers, the discovery of new creatures, and previously unexplored scientific anomalies. They might not contain any answers to the great unknowns waiting out there for us, but maybe they’ll help us ask new questions in preparation for that day we finally leave the shackles of Earth.
I may never get to physically journey to the stars, but these authors have taken me to places I’d never read about before.
And that’s exciting enough for me.
For now.
D.B.
12.19.20
GREENHORN
Elizabeth Moon
I. The Dude
Josiah Horatio Titweiler arrived at Wichita Station in Open Range wearing a mask. That was the first problem. It wasn’t in period; it was a modern, non-western, rebreathing mask with little doohickeys on the sides. He said he had allergies.
His horse was the next problem. Yes, a range-riding, rock-herding rancher had to have a horse. Bio or mechanical or whatever…it had to be vaguely horse-shaped, of a horselike color, and it had to have its name painted on the front. Black, with or without white trim, was good. Pink and silver was not. Tan with white trim was good. Green with blue spots was not. As for names, Silver was good. Aluminum was not. Trigger was good. Barrel was not.
Titweiler did not understand the underlying logic, and it was not something he could ask anyone at the factory building his custom horse. He decided he would go with “laughable” to undermine suspicion. After all, one of the tropes in the books and vids was the idiot who wasn’t an idiot, who gained respect by proving it and then was trusted and befriended.
His horse slid out of the freighter’s belly looking like any other Tesper 1700 except for being painted in a swirling pattern of turquoise and lavender. The swirling pattern also concealed the custom modifications for Titweiler’s unusual anatomy and need for firepower. The cartoon horse on the nose with the name Sunnydancing in curly letters around it was bright purple. Big green eyes. Sparkling silver hooves, mane, and tail.
In his carefully tailored suit, Titweiler knew he stood out among the other passengers claiming their belongings: they wore work clothes, rumpled and stained, and their horses being unloaded included only two Tespers—both older models—and a dozen mixed of Gorins, Pedins, and Dolloks in various shades of brown and rough-patched scars. All with realistic horses painted on their noses in black, some shade of brown, or tan with black trim. Names like Buckshot, Bullet, Lightning, Stormy.
Eyes stared at him, looked at each other, nodded, looked again at the shiny and obviously new Sunnydancing and back to him. Sizing him up. Sizing the horse up as she sat unscarred on the pad. The clerk at the desk called, “Titweiler! Josiah Horatio Titweiler!” He stepped forward, careful to walk neatly to the counter, and there receive the keys to Sunnydancing. “You want we should have that thing moved around to launch for you?” The woman’s eyes were laughing.
“I have a certificate,” he said, pulling out the case and showing it. “But perhaps it would be better—it is crowded here. I’ll be staying at the Grande Lodge.”
“That’ll be two hundred for a tow,” she said. “Seventy-five for a bounce.”
“Tow, please,” he said. The choice of someone who did not want his horse scratched up by the other rough mounts. The choice of someone who might have a piloting certificate but wasn’t that skilled. She entered the order, and his card, with the corner of her mouth puckered tight to hide a smile.
He walked back past the others and had just reached the compartment hatch when one of them said “You call that a horse, mister?”
He turned and smiled, keeping his lips down over his store-bought teeth. “That is what the catalog called it.”
Various sounds reached him he assumed were humorous at his expense. Excellent. Everything was going according to plan. From behind him he heard “—bought a horse from a catalog! Can you believe—” and then the hatch shut, and he was moving swiftly along the passage to “lodging.”
The Grande Lodge had fake log walls; every fake window had videos of mountain vistas. The bar boasted both a bucking bull ride and a bucking rockethorse ride, though both were unoccupied when Titweiler entered, an hour after checking into his room. A few cowboy types slouched in booths around the sides, vacuum suits hung on foot-long pegs and jeans tucked into their boots. Plenty of time for some of the locals who’d seen Sunnydancing arrive to show up here.
“Well, if it isn’t that fellow from the landing bay,” one of them said loudly. “Hear about him? He bought a horse from a catalog!”
“No!”
“He did. Purty thing, too, if you like something that belongs in a little girl’s bedroom.” He looked at Titweiler. “Hey, whyn’t you show us how you can ride on that’n over there?”
“Uh…no thanks. I just came in for a lemon soda. Say, do you know how I can find the Ranch Exchange?”
“He wants the Ranch Exchange…imagine that.”
“What ya gonna do, buy a ranch, sonny?”
“Actually I…I have one.” Titweiler smiled at them, and they didn’t flinch, so he was doing it right.
“You? Have a ranch? Where is it?”
“Whatcha gonna do with it?”
“I’m going to herd…um…boulders.” He sipped his lemon soda.
“He’s going to herd boulders!” one said to another, loudly, and then, “You gonna herd boulders with that fancy-pants little pony you brought in?”
“They said it would do everything I needed,” Titweiler said, spreading his hands carefully. Only five tentacles…er…fingers on each. “I won it,” he said. A half truth, as it happened. “The ranch, not my, uh, horse.”
“And you got a license to fly…yanno, sonny, you oughta join up with the Big C.”
“Is that near the Ranch Exchange?”
Hoots and grunts, quickly suppressed. “Where’s your ranch?”
“I—I am not certain until I’ve been to the Ranch Exchange. It was the lottery, you see. The angles were given, and the range stated to be unencumbered, but I was told I’d get the coordinates after checking in with the exchange.”
Glances exchanged again among the other men. One of them stood up. “How ’bout I show you just where it is, so you don’t get lost. This is your first time on a big station, isn’t it? The gravity shifts can get to you, ’til you’re used to them.” The man—tall for a man, he could tell—looked him up and down. “How far in you come from?”
