A slim robot butler in a tuxedo approached, nodding its cylindrical head and rubbing gleaming metal fingers together.
"Mr. Gunner, I presume."
"Yeah."
"The Judge is waiting for you in his solarium. This way, please."
Gunner followed, walking through a hallway and across a sitting room with a private bar and billiards table before exiting through a set of glass sliding doors into the solarium outside. The morning sun blazed down, but the heat didn't touch the climate-controlled interior, where rose gardens and flowering trees bloomed, the walkways were paved with smooth rocks, and the grass was green and perfectly manicured.
Children ran and skipped across the grounds, smiling and laughing. Their faces were clean, their clothes new, their skin rosy with health. Their voices rang in the air as they jumped across the narrow stream that divided the grounds, playing tag or other games. Hidden vents created a cool breeze that stirred the branches and tousled the children's hair. They went about under the watchful eye of a solitary figure, standing at the far end of the solarium in a tattered overcoat and wide-brimmed slouch hat like a giant, protective scarecrow. His face was completely shadowed, though Gunner caught a glimmer under the brim of the hat, light reflecting off the man's eyes as if it were a beast in the guise of a human being. His presence prickled Gunner's senses, invoking a surge of adrenaline that made his fingers twitchy for the gun he no longer wore.
In the middle of the park, the Judge sat at a bench under the shade of a purple-leaved Japanese maple tree with a spread of mouth-watering dishes in front of him: fresh pastries and fruit, steaming piles of eggs, sausages, bacon, waffles, pancakes, glistening pitchers of juice and flutes of bubbly mimosas.
The Judge was tall and broad-shouldered, relaxed in pleated slacks, an embroidered vest, and a snowy satin shirt with the first three buttons undone. His hair and beard were iron-grey, his weathered features ruggedly handsome. A screen floated in front of his face, divided into sections displaying different video feeds from the cameras around the Town. He shut the screen down with a wave of his hand at Gunner's approach, a smile spreading across his face.
"Gunner. Nice of you to come. Please have a seat. This food won't eat itself, after all."
"Don't mind if I do." Gunner eased himself on the bench opposite of the Judge and piled food on his plate.
"You have the look of a man stumbling upon the unexpected," the Judge noted, eyes crinkling in amusement.
Gunner paused in mid-chew, glancing around. "You got me there, Judge. This ain't the place I imagined. And you're not the man I imagined, either."
The Judge chuckled as he bit into a croissant. "Ah, yes. I'm sure you imagined me as a more villainous sort. Dressed in all black, eye patch, that sort of thing."
Gunner shrugged. "Didn't know what I imagined. But this ain't it. Whose kids are those?"
The Judge glanced in their direction with a sad smile. "Surreal, isn't it? That they can go about their childish business, completely unaware of the runaway train of adulthood barreling toward them. How long ago was it when you or I were innocent and young, Gunner? Ages? Forever ago?"
He sighed. "Some are my grandchildren. Others are grandnieces and nephews. The rest are their friends. Here, they have a safe haven to run and play and be themselves. The Town is no place for children, I'm afraid."
Having finished a stack of pancakes, Gunner tackled a platter of bacon and eggs. "Way I hear it, folks are putting the condition of this place at your feet."
The Judge laughed. "And who told you that? Your friend Pablo, mad with visions of fiery judgment from above? Or your new friend Rosco Gibbs, a known liar and swindler? Or maybe it was the Baron." His teeth flashed in a sly grin. "It looked like she took an interest in you. I doubt she had anything pleasant to say about me."
"Not really. She says you're running this place into the ground. Unchecked lawlessness and such."
"Did she? I'm guessing she didn't tell you about how she used her contacts with the railroad to keep the train from coming through here?"
"Guess she forgot about that part. Can't see what she'd gain from doing that, though. From what I understand, the train stops are the only thing that keeps this place running."
The Judge lifted a mimosa flute, sipping slowly. "That's right. It's the main artery that pumps life into this Town. Trade, money, and manpower. Without it, this place has become overrun with outlaws and hired guns with no one to hire them. The stores are running out of wares and food, and the farms won't be able to produce enough. Naturally, vice and violence have spread nearly out of control."
"Still don't see how this benefits the Baron."
"Stopping the train puts me at her mercy. Without blood shards, the generator wouldn't be able to operate. Since she's retrofitted the equipment to run on lithium fusion from the mines, she's able to control the power supply. This only happened after I went through great expense to purchase a new fusion motor to replace the faulty old one. So she undercuts me by making my purchase useless. And with lawlessness growing worse by the day, she's working hard to convince everyone that I'm to blame. When the place crumbles into chaos and ruin, she'll pull her people back and watch the Town burn. Then she'll pick up the pieces, reopen the train route, and rebuild in her own image."
Gunner glanced up through the panes of thick glass at the rusty generator towers that loomed over the surrounding buildings. "Sounds like a pretty bold plan. Excuse me for asking, but you seem to have pretty deep pockets and a lot of guns on your payroll. What's stopping you from rolling in on the Baron and putting her out of commission?"
"Politics, Gunner. Politics. The Baron has immersed herself in the infrastructure of this Town. My fault for trusting her when she offered her services. She's become quite popular, while my public image has taken a tumble. If I make a move against her without clear evidence of a crime, the people might turn against me or simply leave for greener pastures. I can't afford a full-blown riot or mass exodus right now. I lost quite a few men recently to a rogue Nimrod squad, and though I can't prove it, I'm sure she had something to do with that as well."
Gunner wiped his mouth with a cotton napkin. "Well, sounds like you got your hands pretty full, Judge. I'm figuring since you invited me here to enjoy this fine spread with you, there must be something you think I can help you with."
"I must admit, I was curious to see you in person. You've created quite the persona, you know. Is it true you were a Ranger? They say you killed hundreds, maybe thousands of Ferals in Texas before you lost the stomach for it. Or so the stories go. Some even say you switched sides. Fought with the Ferals and slaughtered soldiers, women, and children. They say you killed your superior officer and turned fugitive, fleeing into Hinterland and coming back alive. They say your peacemakers spit fire and sulfur that burn entire towns, and you can't be killed. They say you shed your skin every full moon and take the form of a wolf. They say—"
"They say a lot of things. I get it. I don't talk about my past. No point to it."
"Depends on the past, I suppose. Like just a few days ago. You know — when you killed my nephew and his boys."
He spoke the words so casually that the statement didn't hit Gunner for a second. Then he caught the hard glint in the Judge's eyes as he sliced into a pear, juice dripping down the edge of the knife.
"That's right. Who else could it have been? You came into town with that renegade Pablo after I sent Clyde and his men out to hang him. Waingrow found Clyde and the others gunned down at the hanging tree, feeding the buzzards. Tracks showed only one bike rode in. What do you think the odds are that those tracks match the tread on the Steed that Waingrow captured the other day?"