"Winston Brand, you get your ass up and catch that girl." The voice rang clear in my skullset, and I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. Either Hetty, my handler, was confused or—
Yep, I was the one with head problems.
I sat up and looked around, not knowing where in the hell I was. An empty warehouse stretched out around me, the kind that stored food on its way south to Austin. The heavy odors of gunsmoke and rotten vegetables mixed into a somewhat pleasant bouquet. Dusty light filtered through rows of windows high above on the side walls; one window had been smashed inward, leaving a scattering of glass and metal strewn across the floor. The door in the back of the building had been wrenched from its hinges while the hangar doors in the front stood imposing and strong. Still-smoking bullet holes and scorch marks covered the walls, doors, pillars, and floors.
Welcome to the Republic of Texas, a country mined from the rubble of a fallen America and forged into steel by civil war and unending corporate conflict. Technology and neglect made this country what it is. It's near as wild as it was after America wrestled it from the native civilizations. Maybe more so. It's a tough place to make a living, but it's home and on a good day it’s a bounty hunter's gold mine.
Well, I was the fastest, smoothest, toughest bounty hunter there was, but I was not exactly having a good day. Some serious fight had happened in this warehouse, and I didn't remember a damn bit of it. My head felt like a bucket of bolts was rattling around in it—I don't believe I was the winner of that fight.
I tried to cover my amnesia when I responded to Hetty. "Uh," I said. "What?" I didn't do a very good job.
"I said, get back up and track her down. That's my vacation what's getting away!"
My joints cracked in protest as I forced myself to stand. "Care to upload that memory again?" My red beard, the pride of my life, felt odd, so I ran my fingers through it. They came back sooty and with a distinct impression I was lopsided. How much memory had I lost? A day? Two? I shook my head to clear the nonsense.
There wasn't time to reminisce because a second later, Hetty started an upload. My neural implant popped to life and flooded my brain with memories. The target’s name was Lena Goodwin, daughter of the esteemed Chester Goodwin. She was eleven and wanted, dead or alive. Chester was the head of a company called Goodwin Dairy, which dealt with anything from dairy to cybernetic implants to sidearms. Getting in good with the Goodwins was enough motivation for any intelligent bounty hunter, but the reward was nothing to scoff at either. I picked up my still-smoking cowboy hat from the floor while I processed the details of the arrangement.
I blinked. "Dead or alive?" I asked, surprised that Mr. Goodwin might want his daughter back dead.
"Keep her alive, if you know what's good for you." Hetty might have been referring to getting in good with the Goodwins, but she might also have been referring to the significant bonus associated with a live retrieval.
"Ten thousand stars?"
"It ain't the night sky, but it's enough for that vacation you promised me, so get your ass in gear."
Hetty was always such a great motivator. That's why I hired her back when… Well, that memory was a bit fuzzy. A while ago. She handled the flow of information for our operation, and I handled the rough and tumble. Hetty was the perfect mix of stubborn and sweet. She just wanted a little vacation. How could I deny that?
That many stars could buy a decent trip south to the ocean—or a pile of new tech. The thought of upgraded nanomachines and some shiny eye mods put a smile on my face. I'm a modern man—a modded man. Nothing God ever gave man couldn't be upgraded and improved. Of course, I'd split the haul with Hetty if we bagged the bounty. She was one of the best-paid handlers in the business, but I often felt like I was getting a
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