New Austin Colony, The Fringe
William Johnson yawned as he pulled on his tough leather boots. It was still dark out and would be for at least another hour, but he had always been an early riser, and drank copious amounts of coffee to make up for that particular foible. As was his norm he was wearing a heavy waistcoat over a shirt and tie and tough trousers to match his boots, it was more practical than truly smart but it fit his particular role sufficiently. Taking another big drink of coffee he pulled on his gun belt and secured it around his middle, checking that all of his cartridges were still secured in place and that the two holsters were on his hips. Unlocking his gun cabinet he pulled out his two Hermes Corp Gunslinger Specials, powerful plasma revolvers that were incredibly popular out here in the fringe due to their stopping power and deadly potential. Slipping them into the holsters and securing the latch he was satisfied. Walking through his home he headed for the kitchen and poured himself some cereal and quickly consumed it with yet another helping of coffee before he picked up a golden badge, in the shape of a star surrounded by a circle.
For Johnson was a U.S. Marshal, appointed by the Congress to enforce law and order across the United Systems. They were usually found dealing with crimes that took place across numerous counties, in which case local sheriff’s were at a disadvantage, but out on the very edge of the fringe the Marshal took up that role and was often the primary source of authority on a fringe colony, acting as a de facto mayor on the very edge of the fringe. New Austin was nearly five years old at this point, but it was still a small fringe colony that was in no real rush to grow up, maybe because although the planet itself was habitable enough it didn’t have anything that made it especially valuable like rare resources or the like, Not that it bothered any of the inhabitants, they had enough to eat and a comfortable, if hardworking life, and produced just enough of various things to trade with other colonies.
Attaching the distinctive badge to his waistcoat he grabbed his Stetson and headed out into the pre-dawn gloom. New Austin was a small town, maybe only a thousand souls called it (and the surrounding countryside) home, most of whom had put their fortunes on the line. The handful who hadn’t were transients, visiting the colony primarily to invest in the newest colony of the United Systems, this wasn’t unusual, that was how the colonies in the fringe grew as despite their ‘untamed’ nature there was a lot of profit to be had in the fringe, on both the right and the wrong side of the law. Crime in New Austin was comparatively light, and almost completely perpetrated by off-worlders. Johnston, and his Deputies, therefore kept a special eye on the small spaceport on the southern side of the settlement and the colony’s main Saloon on main street, which was frequented by off-worlders regularly. But by and large New Austin was a peaceful place, Johnson only had a handful of deputies because that was all he needed and, and the people were hard working and law-abiding, which was how Johnson liked it.
Given the size of the colony there weren’t a lot of vehicles, or rather there were but they were locked up in garages for when their owners had to drive out of town for whatever reason, most people in New Austin walked, and the colony’s atmosphere, but literal and figurative, benefited from it. As he walked through the quiet colony he saw a truck pulled up outside the general store and a young lady carrying bags from inside and piling them up in the back.
“Morning Tess,” Johnson smiled as he approached. “Need a hand?”
“Good Morning Marshal,” Tess McFarlane replied with a smile as she dumped a bag in the back. “I wouldn’t say no.”
Johnson smiled and helped her carry her shopping from inside the store out to her truck. Tess was the daughter of John McFarlane who owned one of the ranches that raised cattle for the consumption of the colony, she was also the only daughter amongst three brothers, all of whom were younger than her, she had therefore learnt early to be independent, and had a Gunslinger Special of her own in a holster on her hip. Johnson himself had taught her to shoot when he had first come out here nearly five years ago, and Tess had just been a precocious teenager, and had brought her the Gunslinger as a reward for her hard work. Although he would never admit it he had a soft spot for Tess, as a teenager she had been the kind of girl who could work her way into the hearts of pretty much everyone, and she was a well-liked member of the New Austin community.
“What are you doing in town so early?” Johnson asked as he lifted the last bag into the truck.
“I was up early, couldn’t get much sleep last night, so I figured that whilst I was awake I might as well do something productive,” Tess replied with a shrug as she leant back against the truck. “You know as well as I do that the countryside is beautiful, and if I hurry I’ll get a beautiful sunrise as I drive up to the Ranch.”
“In that case I should probably let you get going,” Johnson smiled. “Have a good day, Tess.”
“You too Marshal,” Tess smiled in return. “Thanks for your help.”
Johnson watched as Tess climbed into her truck and began to drive out of town, heading northwards to where the land rose up out of the river valley, before continuing on his way. He didn’t get more than another hundred meters before he bumped into someone else.
“Morning Marshal!”
“Morning Mister O’Neill,” Johnson replied as he shook hands with the man. “I didn’t know you were back in town.”
“Only just got in overnight,” Thomas O’Neill replied gesturing in the general direction of the spaceport. “Brining in stock for the store.”
Johnson nodded. Thomas O’Neill was a Freelancer; that is he was an independent trader that operated a small ship and plied his trade between the colonies of the fringe. Freelancers could operate anything from fighters, in which case they took contracts to defend colonies or protect larger supply ships, to small tramp freighters that provided essential transportation services for small colonies, just like New Austin. Freelancers were a integral part of life in the fringe, and for the most part were well-received and respected in fringe colonies as, the majority of them, were law abiding citizens. The efforts of the various Core Corporations to put freelancers out of business was not well received in the fringe, as the Corporations tend to charge higher rates and generally try and cheat the colonists, whereas the Freelancers (for the most part) tended to be honest and fair. As a result, out of all the people who visited New Austin, Johnson generally had the least issues with them, especially when some of the pilots had helped keep pirates out of the system in the past. Of the various types of Freelancers, O’Neill was a trader, and he was a frequent sight in New Austin.
“That would explain it then,” Johnson grinned. “I’m sure Paddy is happy now you’ve restocked his supplies.”
“He was,” O’Neill nodded. “Gleeful in fact.”
“I can imagine,” Johnson replied. “How long are you in town for?”
“A couple of days, I’ve got a few things to give to various people, then I need to see if anyone needs anything taken anywhere,” O’Neill replied with a shrug. “Then I’ll be out of your hair again, Marshal.”
“Not at all, law-abiding citizens like yourself are always welcome in New Austin,” Johnson smiled. “Where are you staying?”
“Above the Saloon,” O’Neill replied, and then added with a grin. “Easy access to the whores.”
Johnson simply smiled. Like many spacers including Freelancers, especially Freelancers who worked alone, O’Neill wasn’t particularly picky about where he got his feminine companionship, just as long as he got some, and he generally had enough money to purchase that companionship if he had to, and given that prostitution was legal, Johnson had no real problem with it.
“Alright, well it’s good to see you again Mister O’Neill,” Johnson said, shaking his hand again. “Have a good stay.”
“Thanks Marshal, it’s good to see you again too,” O’Neill nodded and headed back into the Saloon.
Johnson watched him return inside before continuing his walk down Main Street. His offices and the town jail was at the far end of the street, pushing open the door he headed inside. The Marshal’s Office in New Austin wasn’t tremendously large; it was one large main room with Johnson’s office off of it, as well as a cellblock to hold prisoners. Johnson nodded to the Duty Officer, one of his Deputies, before heading into his office. Given that Mister O’Neill was in town it was likely that he had brought the latest news reports from other colonies, including ones that likely had a smaller communications cycle with the Core than New Austin ever would have. The majority of the ‘news’ he didn’t much care for, what he did care for was the various arrest warrants and criminal activity notices that the various Sheriffs, and the United Systems Marshal Service, posted and shared across the fringe. Sure enough, there was a new download on his system as he settled behind his desk, with another handily acquired mug of coffee, and began to read through them.
By the time he emerged again the sun was fully risen and looking out into the street he could see that it was bustling with activity as New Austin started a new week and its inhabitants got about their business. As Mister O’Neill had indicated, there was not only a lot of activity around the General Store, but also around the spaceport where he was no doubt making a tidy profit by offering his services to the inhabitants. It promised to be a busy day, especially when one considered that it was harvest season, meaning that a fair number of the farms out here would be bringing in their produce, or otherwise storing it either on their property or in the outskirts of New Austin. As the District U.S. Marshal of a Frontier Colony as small as this one, Johnson was technically responsible for all manner of governance, in the absence of an elected Mayor and no one in New Austin had got around to organising anything like that, he was supposed to concern himself with the food supply, fortunately for his sanity however he had hired a few people to handle that. There was talk of (finally) electing a Mayor, and Johnson welcomed it, he’d much rather just handle the law enforcement side of things.
Johnson grabbed his Stetson from the hat stand where he had placed it and headed on outside. Whilst most of his Deputies would be out walking a patrol, he liked to go out there himself, he was after all the primary symbol of the Law in New Austin, and he felt that it was important that people saw him, whether they were planning to commit a crime or not. It was an opinion held by the majority of his contemporaries and was undeniably effective in keeping the peace. He nodded his greetings to various townsfolk as he passed them, all the time his sharp eyes watching for any sign of trouble. When the first, usually, hardest year, went off without any problems he had worried that he might lose his edge whist serving as the Marshal for what was turning out to be a very law-abiding colony, but his eye for trouble had never failed him in the years that had followed. And ultimately, he was very happy here.
Sure, he wasn’t out there doing the ‘exciting’ stuff like hunting down fugitives across numerous worlds or breaking up smuggler rings or groups of bandits, but he was doing an important job out here and he was proud of the work he had done. They had never had any really big law breakers out here, but Johnson liked to think that he was doing his bit to keep New Austin safe, and for the most part he was, and the town folk loved him for it. Of course if he wanted his career to go anywhere he was going to have to take another assignment at some point in the not too distant future, but then even with New Austin’s sleepy progress rate it wouldn’t be too long before the USMS was replaced by local sheriff’s, at least for local law enforcement, and when that happened the part of the job that Johnson loved would be over with. Hell, maybe he should think about retiring from the Marshals Service and become New Austin’s Sheriff, that wouldn’t be unpleasant.
Johnson was making his way back towards the Marshal’s Offices when the Duty Officer, a different Deputy from the one he had greeted that morning, came running up to him, looking worried.
“Marshal, there’s something you’ll want to see,” The Deputy said, something in his town made Johnson increasingly concerned and he followed the Deputy back to the Offices as quickly as possible. “This popped up on the screens a few minutes ago.”
Johnson leant over the cluster of computer consoles in one corner of the main room. There was a contact on it but that by itself wasn’t unusual as the Marshals provided a Traffic Control service for small colonies like this one, the fact that it wasn’t flying under a U.S. Transponder however, was.
Although there was no standing Naval presence in the area they had left a substantial network of reconnaissance drones across the entire system to ensure that if any unknown ship appeared at least someone would know about it quickly. They had also installed a number of orbital weapons platforms to provide some defence for the colony against minor attacks, as well as a powerful defensive shield to protect the colony itself. It would not be enough to fend off a sustained attack indefinitely, but it was not supposed to. It was designed to defend the colony against raiders and pirates, more important it was to by the colony time.
The United Systems Navy had, long ago, come up with a simple doctrine; spreading the main strength of the Navy trying to cover every colony was a pointless endeavour; it was just asking to be defeated in detail. Therefore the Navy concentrated its strength at strategically placed outposts, which were handily placed in respect to the local slipstream currents. In the event of an attack the Navy could respond quickly and in overwhelming force against any invading force, and as such any world that might come under attack need only hold out long enough for the Navy to get the message and respond. Worlds in the core had their own defensive Guard to protect them, at least initially, and the colonies in the fringe had their own defences to allow them to hold out. The justification was simple, the colonies in the fringe were generally small enough to be ‘expendable’ in the big picture of a war situation, whereas the naval assets were not, besides the Navy had invested sufficiently in static defences to ensure (or at least give a good chance) that the colonies would survive long enough for the Navy to make an appearance; assuming that news of the impending attack reached them soon enough.
The nearest concentration of naval strength, not counting the independent frigates that patrolled the fringe and occasionally visited the colonies as they passed through, was likely the Enterprise Battle Group at Liberty Station, a full day’s transit away even at maximum military power. As the only real symbol of Federal authority on New Austin, it fell to Johnson to make a decision on how to handle this unknown interloper. The United Systems had had limited interactions with outside powers and species, certainly nothing substantial much less bi-lateral agreements in pretty much anything, and a fair portion of those had been through the U.S. Marshals hunting a fugitive, which was probably why all Marshals received some training for this kind of thing. Never the less the first thing on Johnson’s mind was the safety of his people. He could feel the tension in the air and a glance over his shoulder at the Deputy confirmed the young man’s apprehension.
“Deputy, I need you to find Mister O’Neill,” Johnson told him, keeping his voice as calm as possible. “Bring him here, quickly now, but don’t get anyone worked up.”
Johnson turned his attention back to the screen where the unknown ship was loitering in the outer system on what looked like a scouting profile. It didn’t take long for the Deputy and O’Neill to return.
“What’s the matter, Marshal?” O’Neill frowned as he approached then looked down at the screens. “A ship… it’s not squawking a Vitozen transponder so it’s not one of ours.”
“Indeed, we’ve been pinging it for IFF for the past ten minutes,” Johnson replied. “I need you to take your ship and head to Liberty Station, you need to let the Navy know what is happening here… just in case.”
“I understand,” O’Neill nodded grimly. “When do you want me to leave.”
“Immediately,” Johnson replied. “It’s a forty-eight hour round trip as it is.”
“You can count on me,” O’Neill said firmly. “But my leaving now will arouse suspicions.”
“I know, but that ship could be in orbit in a few hours if it put its mind to it,” Johnson replied. “People are going to work out something is up, besides I’m going to have to consider bringing everyone into the shield, and god knows the ranchers and famers are going to be cross as hell about that one. “
“Alright, I’ll get going immediately,” O’Neill nodded then tipped his hat and departed.
Johnson watched and a few minutes later a contact rose from the colony and sped away into space, before disappearing as it activated its slip drive and began its trip to Liberty Station. He then turned to his Deputy again.
“Gather the rest of the team, have them muster here and arm themselves, even if they aren’t openly hostile I would imagine we’re going to get guests some time soon, I want to be ready for them,” Johnson instructed and watched as the Deputy departed, clearly glad to have something to do, then turned back to the screen. “Alright, I guess we should see who… or what, these people are.”
Manipulating a few controls he activated the communications system and sent out a general broadcast into the system.
“Attention unknown vessel, this is New Austin Traffic Control, you are in the territory of the United Systems of Vitoze,” Marshal said, trying to remember the official challenge he was supposed to make at a time like this. “Please identify yourself and state your intentions at this time.”
