Chapter Text
Part Three (Cont’d)
The sound of the men saddling up outside the Bar of Plenty was enough to attract worried attention from all corners of the town.
Natasha peered out of the window of the infirmary, flanked by Kitaxis and Gr’Ash, who buttoned up his shirt to cover his fresh scar and set his dusty hat back on his head.
The two Nimbosians had been in the middle of telling her about Toxis and his gang when they had been disturbed by the ruckus outside. They had explained how the gang had ridden into town having already ransacked several other settlements in Prosperity County on their way here. Like a tornado slowly tracking across the desert, they spread destruction and misery as they passed through.
Kitaxis had even opened up about the personal impact that the latest carnage to hit Arcadia Falls had wrought on her, the death of her husband’s brother at Toxis’s own hand.
And as Natasha had listened, the knot of guilt inside of her had grown and grown. As had the palpable sense of worry. That once again the Bounty’s crew were very much in over their heads.
Those worries only grew as she watched the unruly group of men in the street outside. All of them were armed and ready for action, some hooted and hollered as they prepared themselves for whatever they were doing. And most of them kept their attention on one man in particular. A tall, gaunt man on a sturdy Nimbosian horse who carried himself with a calm, quiet menace and idly chewed a mouthful of tobacco with a satisfied smile.
It didn’t take Natasha long to figure out which one was Toxis.
“Looks like they’re moving out someplace,” Kitaxis muttered from Natasha’s side as she stared out the window.
It was an unnecessary comment, given what they could all see, but it broke the unsettling silence that had descended inside the now otherwise deserted infirmary.
It also didn’t take Natasha long to deduce where the motley crew outside was moving out to. “The ranch,” she whispered, eliciting looks from the other two.
“Excuse me?” Kitaxis asked, confused.
Natasha snapped back to business mode, her concerns for the others overriding her sense of residual guilt for the time being. “I’ve got to find my friends,” she explained, “They went into the saloon over there.”
“Lotta people go into that saloon,” Gr’Ash mused with a surprisingly philosophical air, “Not all of ‘em come out.”
That didn’t make Natasha feel any better. She moved over to the exit, only for Kitaxis to call out and stop her in her tracks.
“Be safest if you waited. They’ll be gone soon.”
Natasha turned back to the worried face of the nurse, prepared to argue her case.
“You should listen to her,” Gr’Ash added with a grimace, “You don’t want to get in their way. And if those friends of yours fell foul of Toxis…well, then there’s no hurry.”
This comment unsettled her further, but she couldn’t help but see the logic. So she returned to the window.
But not before checking that the loaded Nimbosian pistol was still safely attached to her belt.
* * * * *
Out in the street, Toxis checked his own pistols and slid them into his holsters with quiet satisfaction, before turning his attention back to the gaggle of men around him. It wasn’t exactly an army. But he didn’t exactly need one. Rutox had reported back that he had already claimed the ranch, and the ship that the off-worlders had arrived on.
This wasn’t an invasion. But a victory march.
His gang had been put together over a lifetime spent out on the fringes of what passed for civilisation on Nimbus III. But even though they professed loyalty to him, Toxis knew that if push came to shove, there wasn’t a single man here that he would trust his life with. In fact, he was sure there were already a few of them that were plotting to kill him, now that he had Goodlife Ranch under control.
Trust was a definitely relative term on Nimbus III.
Still, Toxis had lived with that ever-present threat for long enough now, and he was sure he’d see off any challenge that came along. He’d seen off plenty of them before.
And now he had the ranch, and a starship, he’d be almost untouchable. Not just in Prosperity County, but on the whole planet.
So he remained entirely confident as he gently kicked his horse to the head of the group and turned to address his men.
“Well then, boys,” he called out, “What say we go see my ranch, hmm?”
The gathered throng hooted and hollered in further celebration, drawing yet more attention to themselves. One or two even fired a few shots into the air to punctuate their calls.
Toxis himself remained a picture of dark serenity, as he pulled on his reins and turned towards the direction of Goodlife Ranch. But as he prepared to leave, he felt something that interrupted that feeling of calm.
He felt a tell-tale tingling sensation on the back of his neck.
The outlaw whirled his head around in an instant, knowing exactly where to look. He was just about fast enough to catch a glimpse of Bri’tor as he quickly tried to hide from view in the window of the Bar of Plenty.
Toxis stifled a grimace, wondering whether he should solve that particular issue that had been festering for so long once and for all before he rode out to the ranch. But ultimately he dismissed it. There would be plenty of time for him to deal with the cowed bartender later.
So he turned away from the saloon. And led his army of outlaws out of town, leaving behind nothing but a series of wispy trails of dirt.
And a lot of miserable people.
* * * * *
Bri’tor stared down at the two pistols on the top of the bar in front of him.
They were the same weapons that he had taken from the off-worlders on Toxis’s behalf, without even questioning what he was doing. Like an obedient servant.
He had held those weapons in his hands, right in front of Toxis, and he had done nothing. Because he had been scared.
For all of the rage he felt when he looked at the man who had killed his brother, he could certainly keep it well hidden when he needed to.
He looked up at the empty expanse of the bar, now vacated by Toxis’s men, who had driven out any other regular customers when they had quickly turned on the off-worlders and marched them to the back room. Yet again, as Toxis had driven away his customers, and used the place like his personal play area, Bri’tor had done nothing.
He had heard them talking about the ranch, and the ship that the off-worlders had brought with them, but he had been too focused on carrying out Toxis’s demands to really focus too heavily on what was being said. Even though the gang had brought him nothing but misery since they had arrived, he had just done what they had asked.
Because he was scared. And his fear had trumped any resistance he might have otherwise tried to offer.
And even now, there were two armed members of Toxis’s group in the back, standing guard outside the back room where the off-worlders were restrained. Which Bri’tor had allowed to happen without so much as a passing comment.
He hated Toxis. For what he had done to him, and what he was continuing to do to him. But as he stared at the weapons in front of him on the dusty counter, apparently as useless to him as if they had been toys made for children, Bri’tor realised that there was someone he hated even more than Toxis.
He hated himself. For allowing it all to happen.
Just as he miserably contemplated his continued inaction, and forced the fresh memories of his brother out of his mind, the door to the saloon burst open. He looked up and immediately felt better as he saw the kind face of his wife walking in.
But he was more guarded when he saw who Kitaxis was with.
On one side of her was a mysterious woman in a dusty brown tunic that Bri’tor had never seen before, and on the other side was Gr’Ash, seemingly entirely recovered from his earlier disagreement in the Bar of Plenty.
Upon seeing the miraculously recovered man, Bri’tor immediately feared the worst. Revenge and recriminations were popular subjects in Arcadia Falls.
“N—Now listen,” Bri’tor managed, taking a step back, “I don’t need any trouble here—”
“Honey, relax,” Kitaxis smiled, as she walked over to him, “It’s not like that.”
She stepped behind the bar and gave him a warm hug. Of the sort that, even after so many years of fetid misery in Arcadia Falls, still filled him with comfort.
Ignoring the touching reunion between the bald bartender and the stout nurse, Natasha’s attention was focused on the familiar pistols on the counter. She recognised them as the models that Jirel and Klath had taken with them. And that, combined with the absence of the Trill and the Klingon in the bar, was filling her with a sense of dread.
“My friends,” she barked at Bri’tor, “Where are they?”
Bri’tor glanced at Kitaxis, then at the stranger. Any instincts he might have had to help being blocked by his fear.
“I don’t know what you mean—”
“They came in here,” Natasha pressed, not interested in any excuses or lies, “And these are their weapons. So where the hell are they?”
“The lady needs an answer, Bri’tor,” Gr’Ash grunted from Natasha’s side.
Natasha felt a little odd about the backup that she had managed to procure. But having saved his life, Gr’Ash now definitely seemed to be on her side. As she and the looming Gr’Ash played the bad cops, Kitaxis was proving a natural for the role of the good cop.
“Bri’tor,” she cooed as she held him close, “This lady here has just helped a whole bunch of people in the infirmary. Even saved Gr’Ash from bleeding to death. She’s given so much for us, so we need to do something in return, and help her find her friends.”
Natasha ignored the fresh pang of guilt and kept her focus on Bri’tor. The bartender turned to his wife, his eyes still wide with fear.
“B—But…if Toxis finds out that we—”
“Feels like that’s all we worry about these days,” she smiled sadly, “Afraid of doing anything incase Toxis finds out. And if not him, then some other bandit with a gun who rides on into this godforsaken town.”
He thought about his brother, and he felt himself shrink back slightly. “There’s a good reason for that,” he countered.
“I know,” she smiled sadly, “But going along with them all this time has brought us nothing, has it? Just a lot of pain and misery. So, maybe we need to stand up to him instead. Maybe it’s time we stopped running scared.”
Bri’tor stared back at Kitaxis, looking into the determined eyes of the woman that he loved. And something sparked in the back of his mind, behind all of the fear and the sorrow. A feeling that he hadn’t felt for a long time.
He turned back to the stranger and nodded, gesturing to the back.
“I know where your friends are.”
Natasha nodded in relief and started out in the direction he had indicated, only for Bri’tor to call her back.
“But,” he added with fresh concern, “There’s two men back there. Two of Toxis’s best.”
“Reckon we can deal with them,” Gr’Ash grunted darkly, reaching for one of the pistols on the counter in front of them.
“No,” Natasha called out, halting him, “No shooting. Not until we have to.”
“What exactly do you have in mind instead?”
Natasha looked around the room, deep in thought. Then she laid her eyes on the meagre collection of bottles behind the bar and smiled, glancing at Kitaxis.
“I’m gonna need you to fetch something from the infirmary.”