Paris Knox and the Order of Things

Prequel (Bonus Chapter)

The city with the wormhole spaceport was full of corrupt drug lords and equally corrupt government. But it was the only place with an outgoing ship to anywhere close to Pasiphae 6, so I was here out of necessity, carefully watching my back. Every alley was dark and there were weird scuttling noises coming from the sewers. It was not a place where you wanted to be out on the streets alone at… well, at all, really.

So of course there I was, trying to find a place to get some food that wasn’t space rations, and wondering who on Mars I was going to find to come with me to Pasiphae 6, of all places, since my last travel buddy had tried to slit my throat and steal my identity. A real swell guy, besides that, but now he was a real dead guy, as I accidentally jettisoned him into space in the following kerfuffle. I still felt a little bad about that.

Didn't change the fact that I was down a man for my two-man ship.

Then, as it never does, a solution appeared.

No, really, it did this time, I promise.

I had just walked past a dark alley, when I heard the distinctive sound of someone getting punched very hard in the gut.

“Cough it up, bub,” a gruff voice spat.

There was a pause where someone took a wheezing breath.

“Sorry, fellas, but I already told you,” a voice that had no right to be so breezy replied. “Just spent my last few creds on a sandwich.”

Another punch. “If you’re lying, we’ll kill ya, see?” a reedy voice growled.

“That’s no way to treat a gentleman, you know,” the breezy voice coughed out.

The first voice let out a growl like a feral dog. “You’re annoying, maybe we’ll kill you anyways.”

I stepped back into the entryway of the alley.

“Or maybe you’ll put them down,” I suggested.

The two thugs turned to me. The first one had arms like tree trunks and a scar across their face. The second one had less teeth than fingers (and they didn't have all their fingers), and they were using one arm to pin the third person to the wall of the alley. The third person was willowy, with straight black hair ending at their shoulders, and they stared at me with wide, dark eyes.

“This doesn’t concern you,” the first thug snapped. “Scram.”

“I don’t think I will,” I said, and threw myself at the first thug.

Sure, I had a gun with a stun setting, but I also had some pent-up frustrations. A little knuckle-bustin’ never hurt. Well, that wasn’t true, but that was besides the point.

I landed a hard hit to the first thug’s jaw, and whirled around to hit the second in the stomach. They dropped the willowy self-proclaimed-gentleman so they could double over in pain, and I brought my knee up to smash it into their face. There was a very gross cracking sound, and the thug slumped to the ground of the alley.

The first thug had recovered, and grabbed me from behind. I drove my elbow into their gut as hard as I could, and their iron grip loosened slightly. I dropped to the ground, and rolled back to my feet, putting up my fists. I just managed to block a hit to my face, and we traded boxer-like blows for a moment before I got an opening and drove the heel of my hand into the thug’s sternum. While they stumbled back, I finally drew my gun to hit them over the head with it. They went down to the ground like their buddy, and I spun my gun back into the holster, feeling very much like an old-timey, brawlin’ cowboy.

“That was so cool,” someone said.

It was the person who was getting mugged before I stepped in. I was surprised they didn’t run away like any sane person would do. Instead, they had stayed where they’d fallen against the wall of the alley, watching me with awe.