Mars (Planet) -- Fiction; Robots -- Fiction; Science fiction; Short stories
Ned came in through the street door carrying a very bashed-looking
Brooklyn Eddie. I hoped I had done all that. Eddie's wrists were
fastened together with cuffs. Ned laid him gently next to the heap of
thugs--who I suddenly realized all wore the same kind of handcuffs. I
wondered vaguely if Ned made them as he needed them or had a supply
tucked away in a hollow leg or something.
There was a chair a few feet away and sitting down helped.
Blood was all over everything and if a couple of the hoods hadn't
groaned I would have thought they were corpses. One was, I noticed
suddenly. A bullet had caught him in the chest, most of the blood was
probably his.
Ned burrowed in the bodies for a moment and dragged Billy out. He was
unconscious. A big smile on his face and the splintered remains of his
nightstick still stuck in his fist. It takes very little to make some
people happy. A bullet had gone through his leg and he never moved while
Ned ripped the pants leg off and put on a bandage.
"The spurious China Joe and one other man escaped in a car," Ned
reported.
"Don't let it worry you," I managed to croak. "Your batting average
still leads the league."
It was then I realized the Chief was still sitting in his chair, where
he had been when the brouhaha started. Still slumped down with that
glazed look. Only after I started to talk to him did I realize that
Alonzo Craig, Chief of Police of Nineport, was now dead.
A single shot. Small caliber gun, maybe a .22. Right through the heart
and what blood there had been was soaked up by his clothes. I had a good
idea where the gun would be that fired that shot. A small gun, the kind
that would fit in a wide Chinese sleeve.
I wasn't tired or groggy any more. Just angry. Maybe he hadn't been the
brightest or most honest guy in the world. But he deserved a better end
than that. Knocked off by a two-bit racket boss who thought he was being
crossed.
Right about then I realized I had a big decision to make. With Billy out
of the fight and Fats gone I was the Nineport police force. All I had to
do to be clear of this mess was to walk out the door and keep going. I
would be safe enough.
Ned buzzed by, picked up two of the thugs, and hauled them off to the
cells.
Maybe it was the sight of his blue back or maybe I was tired of running.
Either way my mind was made up before I realized it. I carefully took
off the Chief's gold badge and put it on in place of my old one.
"The new Chief of Police of Nineport," I said to no one in particular.
"Yes, sir," Ned said as he passed. He put one of the prisoners down long
enough to salute, then went on with his work. I returned the salute.
The hospital meat wagon hauled away the dead and wounded. I took an evil
pleasure in ignoring the questioning stares of the attendants. After the
doc fixed the side of my head, everyone cleared out. Ned mopped up the
floor. I ate ten aspirin and waited for the hammering to stop so I could
think what to do next.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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