Threshold Shift (4 page)

Straightening
the collar of his newly woven Deputy uniform, he realised he was sure
to regret his rash decision to stay. But he had been committed as
soon as he killed the Threshian and saved his father. Following
protocol, he had sent a message to Interplanetary Central via the
shuttle he himself should have been a passenger on. Paul would be
tried off world for the crime of murdering of a human, an example to
be set. Jon hoped it would only take a week for Central to send a
representative to take Paul away. But even a week was too long. Until
that time the Threshian was in his keeping.

Above
him the coughing and retching ceased. He heard activity. He even
heard the flow of water. Less than an hour later his father staggered
down the staircase, fingers grasping the handrail tightly. Jacob had
found himself a clean shirt, but the shoulder was already stained
with spots of blood. He had also washed, the greasiness gone from the
thick black hair Jon himself shared, but he had not shaved, perhaps
he had not dared to. Jon also noticed the older man’s forehead
was beaded with sweat, and his face was pale, drained almost. He
wondered again how much time had elapsed between Jopo doses. It was
obvious that Jacob could barely walk. Jon couldn’t imagine the
old man being much help if things got out of hand. No, he chuckled,
when they got out of hand.

“You
settling in?” Jacob asked.

Jon
swung around. “Yes, thanks.”

“Good,
good,” Jacob replied a little hoarsely. “Now, get out of
my chair.”

Jon
grinned, of course, the chair, the Marshal’s chair. He
remembered sitting in it as a child and having the same conversation.
Perhaps things hadn’t changed that much after all. Removing
himself from the chair, he took his place at the Deputy’s desk
and watched his father ease himself into the seat. Did the old man’s
joint creak as he did so? Yes they did, and again Jon found he didn’t
like what he was seeing.

“Thank-you,
son,” Jacob said.

“It’s
your chair,” Jon replied.

Jacob
coughed again. “Not for the chair,” he said with
irritation. “Thank-you for what you did in Main Street. I’d
be dead now if you hadn’t weighed in.”

“It
seemed the right thing to do.”

“Well,
thank-you, I know we haven’t spoken for a while, but I... I’ve
missed you.”

“Dad,
this doesn’t change anything,” Jon said. “Once Paul
is sorted out I’ll be shipping off-world. I never planned to
stay here. I should have been on the evening shuttle.”

“Were
you going to say goodbye?” Jacob asked.

“What
would be the point, Dad?”

“Despite
everything,” Jacob said. “I just thought you would.”

Jon
felt the old anger beginning to rise to the surface. He swallowed it
down again. His Mother would have said this was not the appropriate
time. When was there ever an appropriate time?

His
father’s jaw was set tight. There was a long moment of silence
between them.

“It’s
a big universe out there, Dad,” Jon said finally. “Threshold
is just a dirty backwater. There is so much to see.”

“Oh,
I know,” Jacob said. “I know. You think the Threshians
are horrible, they’re just big lizards. There are creatures out
there that would make you run for the hills. Things that would kill
you without a second thought, planets where hunting humans is a
commercial sport. You want to go out into that?”

Jon
took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You
little fool.”

“You’ve
seen it Dad,” Jon said. “All I want is to see it too.”

Jacob
cradled his bandaged hand, his eyes on his desk. “Sometimes all
that matters is a little justice, in a little town, on a little
border planet.”

“Maybe
today, Dad,” Jon said, “but not tomorrow. I am going to
get Paul out of here and then myself. I am not going to be your
successor.”

“There
isn’t anyone else,” Jacob replied. “Lucas was the
best deputy I had, but even he couldn’t stomach it.”

“What
about the deputy you have already?” Jon asked. “Surely
she can take over?”

“You
mean Roe? I don’t think so. She’s good, but,” he
became thoughtful. “I couldn’t do that to her.”

Jon
shook his head in disgust. “But you could do it to me?”

“Look,”
Jacob said. “When you left, she came and helped out. I was
grateful, she’s good with a gun, she can talk to people, but
being Marshal would break her.”

“What
do you think it would do to me?” Jon asked, the anger sliding
to the surface despite his earlier efforts.

“You’re
my son,” Jacob said. “You’re stronger. You have no
idea how strong you are. It should be you.”

“Save
it, Dad. There are plenty of female Marshals out there, and Roe is
going to be one of them.”

“No,”
Jacob replied. “No.”

“In
fact,” Jon said. “I need to get her back here.”

“She’s
dealing with a mining dispute.”

“Well,
we need her here,” Jon said. “I’m recalling her.”

“No!”
Jacob said, pounding his desk with his good hand.

Jon
stared into his father’s tired eyes. “Is there something
going on between you?”

“Of
course not,” Jacob said, rubbing the stubble on his chin.

“Oh,”
Jon said, suddenly realising, “She doesn’t know, does
she?”

“I
don’t want her to see me like this.”

“Too
bad,” Jon said. “If you don’t let me recall her,
I’ll walk.”

Jacob
was silent, a single bead of sweat rolling down his cheek next to his
eye. Jon waited.

“Recall
her,” Jacob said finally. “And damn you for forcing me.”

“Good,”
Jon replied, he was already activating his Espirnet implant,
accessing communications.

“Deputy Roe, this is base, please respond.”

A few
moments passed, and then her avatar appeared in his field of vision,
a girl with close-cropped spiky black hair and severe features.

“Jon,
what are you doing there?” She asked. “Is the Marshal
OK?”

“He’s
a little beaten up, but he’ll live. Where are you?”

Jon
saw Jacob watching him intently. His father had never had an Espirnet
implant fitted, he could only be aware of one side of the
conversation, Jon’s side.

“I’m
at the North-West Mine,” she replied. “Two Threshian
miners were killed in a cave in and Michael is blaming our
engineers.”

“Well,
never mind that now,” Jon said. “I need you to return
here.”

“Are
you the Marshal now?” Roe asked. He noticed the resistance in
her voice.

“I’m
Deputy,” Jon said. “There’s a situation Roe, the
Marshal needs you here.”

The
Avatar shook its spiky head. “I can’t, Michael is
insisting I handle the situation personally.”

“He
would,” Jon said. “Tell Michael to submit the proper
evidence for assessment. In the meantime get yourself back here.
That’s a direct order,” he eyed his father, “from
the Marshal.”

Roe’s
avatar was silent, the face frozen in a default neutral expression.
Jon hated avatars.

“OK,”
Roe said finally. “I’ll tell him. It will take me a few
hours to get back.”

“As
fast as you can, Roe,” Jon replied, cutting the communication.
His father just looked at him.

“What?”
Jon asked.

“There
was no need for that tone,” Jacob said.

Jon
sat back and stared long and hard at his father. “How long have
you been on Jopo, Dad?”

Jacob
opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing. Jon could see his
father’s surprise at being asked directly. He could almost hear
his thoughts as the old man attempted to formulate a reply.

“About
three years,” Jacob said. “Don’t look at me like
that. It helped me.”

Jon
shook his head. “Dad.”

“I
was getting slower,” Jacob said quickly. “My eyes
wouldn’t focus, I couldn’t aim like I used to.”

“You
could have said something to me. Maybe I could have helped.”

“You
made it quite clear what your position was,” Jacob said. “Quite
clear.”

“Well,”
Jon shrugged. “Look at the state of you now.”

Jacob
turned his eyes to the desk. “It’s getting harder to
focus, son. I don’t think I’m going to be much use to
you.”

“How
long since you had your last dose?”

“Godfrey
left on the October shuttle,” Jacob explained. “That
lasted until December, and then Hassan gave me a few shots until
January.”

“It’s
March, Dad,” Jon said incredulously. “You shouldn’t
have lasted more than a few weeks.”

“Hassan
double crossed me. I let him run his drug trade without interference,
and he still didn’t give me the goods.”

“Dad,”
Jon said. “Everyone knows Hassan works for Michael. What did
you expect? Michael hates you.”

“I
know,” Jacob answered. “But I was too far gone to care.”
The old man bowed his head. “I’ve let things get into an
almighty mess.”

Jon
felt his anger subsiding as he watched his father. He had never seen
Jacob admit to such a thing before. It made him seem more human
somehow. Standing up, Jon walked over and rested a hand on his
father’s shoulder. It was hot to the touch, like a furnace
beneath his palm.

“I
need to get Doctor Forbes over here,” he announced. “He
may be able to help.”

Jacob
looked up, a touch of colour returning to his face.

“Don’t
get your hopes up,” Jon said. “I doubt he stocks any
Jopo, but he can have a look at your hand.”

Jacob
nodded. Jon wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but his
father didn’t seem to be as hot as even a moment ago.

“I’ll
lock the place down while you’re gone,” Jacob said. “Then
I suppose I’d better feed the prisoner.”

The
wall globes were beginning to glow, and a glance through the fanlight
revealed a deepening red sky. Night was coming.

Jon
headed for the door. “I’m going.”

“Don’t
forget this,” Jacob said.

Jon
turned just in time to catch a fully laden gun belt.

“Be
careful,” Jacob said. “Michael will want his nephew back.
I don’t know what he will do.”

Jon
strapped on the belt, and weighed the gun in his hand. He was not
keen to use it.

“Thanks,”
he said and stepped outside.

Jon
waited, a whirring click behind him indicating that the jail was
locked down and his father was safe. A lone Threshian was leaning
against one of the support beams of a nearby building, this one in
human boots, trousers and shirt. Jon had never really thought about
why some of the aliens emulated humans while others did not. But it
was a lot easier to hide weapons in clothes rather than naked scales.
He also recalled that Threshians did not like the cold, and this was
not the warmest area of the planet, especially after dark. The
Threshian was keeping watch.

Jon
walked towards the alien, meeting it eyes. “You need
something?”

The
creature pointed a sharp claw at its throat. It was missing a
vocoder.

“Strong
silent type, eh?” Jon said with a smile. “Don’t let
me keep you.”

The
Threshian shrugged, but made no move towards the gun on its belt, it
simply turned and walked away. Jon watched it go, and then realised
that all he had done was dismiss a known threat that could easily be
replaced with an unknown one. The Threshians were going to be
watching the Jailhouse regardless, except now he had forced them to
do it less obviously. Live and learn, he thought, and continued down
Main Street. The lone watcher was the only Threshian he could see. He
was free to walk the streets unmolested by them.

The
sky continued to redden, Threshold’s sun a sinking yellow
corona on the horizon. The Street Globes were activating
automatically from points on the first floor of each building. Jon
hurried, passing the point where Lucas Miller had been gunned down.
The body was gone, the blood stain washed away. The undertakers had
always been efficient in Argon. Light and laughter blazed from the
windows of The Colonial Captain. Jon ignored it, keeping to the
deepening shadows until he reached Doctor Forbes yellow painted
surgery.

Ethan
Forbes was sweeping the floor with a broom when Jon arrived. A thin
rake of a man, he appeared older than his forty-seven years
suggested.

“Evening,
Deputy,” he said as Jon entered reception.

“You
can still call me Jon, Doc,” Jon replied. "It's my name."

Forbes
leant the broom against the reception desk. Jon noted from his frown
that the Doctor was not happy to see him.

“So,
what can I do for Threshold’s newest deputy?” Forbes
asked.

“I
need you to come to the Jailhouse and visit my father,” Jon
said. “You were busy before?”

“I’d
rather not,” Forbes said, looking away.

“He
needs you,” Jon insisted.

Forbes
took a deep breath. “Michael donates a lot of credit to this
surgery. I don’t think I could run it otherwise.”

“Are
you refusing to treat him?” Jon asked, levelling his gaze on
the physician. He could understand Forbes reluctance, but he was
surprised that the situation had got so bad so quickly. Michael
really did have his claws in everything.

“I…”
Forbes hesitated. “I don’t want to refuse, of course I
don’t, but, I have my practice to think of. I help a lot of
people, Jon. I fixed your broken arm once, you remember?”

“I
remember,” Jon said. “Look, he needs you. We can go the
back way, we can wait until it gets darker, but he needs you.”

Forbes
looked from side to side across his empty surgery, a pained
expression on his face.

Jon
raised his hands far away from his gun belt. “I’m not
going to threaten you, Doctor. I’m asking you, please, help
him.”

Forbes
closed his eyes tight, and rubbed his neck. “I’ll get my
bag. Can you tell me what sort of injuries to expect?”