Going Nowhere

I’m standing outside of a bar called the Bridge to Nowhere, watching my kid blast off into the upper atmosphere; outbound for a better life.

The grey launch-craft floats off the red surface of Mars like a leaf caught in a stray breeze, so graceful at first, then the pilot punches the accelerator and the shuttle is halfway to the stars by the time the shockwave knocks me back a step, even all the way up here on the overlook.

With a heavy heart, I admit that my ex-wife and I failed at making a family, but we succeeded in making sure our child survived us both. He’ll still be in cryosleep, jetting off into deep space long after I’m gone.

Me? I’m going nowhere, just like everyone else on this sorry rock.

The buzz of the holographic sign over my head brings me back from memories of my broken family, and I find myself tracing the grooves of my pistol-grip for comfort.

“You alright there, Taylor?” Asks one of the regulars, an old scientist called Doc.

“I’m good Doc. Just watching the light show.”

Doc’s eyes crinkle in a grin up above his mask. “Yer little one made it onboard just like we discussed. Oh and here,” He reaches down into a satchel he keeps on his hip, from which I have seen him draw surgical instruments and flasks of moonshine. This time he pulls out a little heart-shaped locket I had made for my wife a long time ago. Back on Earth. Never thought I’d see it again. “Paid a Peacemaker pal o’ mine a pretty penny for this old thing. Reckon you’ll have more use for it than me.”

He drops it into my empty palm and claps my shoulder.

“Doc, this wasn’t part of the deal. I don’t have any way to repay-”

“Hush now, son. Three worlds worth of cruelty, millions of patients on their deathbeds, six ex-wives, I’ve seen it all. I know how to spot a good deed that needs doin’. Say thank you and shut the hell your mouth.” He pulls a flask out and tips it back, then wanders back into the bar grumbling about ‘idjits’ and their ‘feelings’.

Alone with my thoughts, I stare down at the little locket and remember.

I remember her face when she cracked the lid to find this waiting for her. Her eyes when I explained how it could record holographic messages back and forth with mine, long since lost. The way it draped across her neck every time I saw her from then on. Until she took it off and threw it at me because I had gone off and done something stupid.

Guess she found it in her bags and gave it to our kid at some point. Wish I’d been there to see that. Wish I’d told them I’d made it to Mars, too. Maybe we could have been a family. Too late now.

Fighting a war on the moon was no excuse to leave a wife and child behind on Earth. Never mind that I bartered their passage to Mars. Nevermind those lunatics were ready to bomb the whole world, themselves along with it, and anyone else who tried to stop them. Shame on me for trying to save the world.

I should have been a better dad, not a damn hero.

My partner, Rush, rolls up on his hoverbike and casually steps right over the seat, dropping into the muck and giving me a look that only ever means one thing. Trouble’s brewing.

I push off the wall to join him but he shakes his head and points inside.

“Drinks first, family man. This shit is… it’s too much.”

I blink as he storms past, wondering at his curious comment before following him through the hatchway and leaving the muck-strewn red wastes behind.

Inside the Bridge to Nowhere, Rush walks right through the crowd with practiced ease, casually reaching out to move a drink out of someone’s way before they can elbow it off the table.

My eyebrow raises. Rush is a lot of things. Graceful ain’t one of ‘em.

I spot Doc tucked away in a corner hustling some truckers out of their earnings, as per usual. A couple of regulars wave at Rush, but my partner pays them no heed as he leans heavily against the counter and grabs Frank by the coat.

“What’s the matter, Rush, ya look live you’ve seen-”

“Ghosts? Oh yeah, Frank. Loads. Looking at one now as a matter of fact. I’ll take a cold one and three shots of the contraband stuff you’re hiding under the counter, just above your left foot if I recall correctly.”

Frank blinks in shock. “H-how? I’ve never told anyone!”

Rush lets the older man go, dropping a few inches to the ground, and scoffs. “Three shots, please, we don’t have a lot of time.”

My eyes narrow, then dart over to Frank, who’s gone pale as a sheet as he pulls out the aforementioned contraband.

I walk up beside Rush, one hand on the bar beside him and a carefully measured look to grab his attention. I open my mouth to speak, and his voice parrots exactly what I was planning on saying.

“‘You feeling alright there, Rush?’” Rush mocks. “‘Acting a little strange, making people uncomfortable, manhandling Frank. Not a good look, mate.’ Yeah yeah, save it. I’ve had enough of these heart-to-hearts with the great Duke Taylor. Oh and don’t bother taking your hand off your gun. You’re gonna need it in,” He glances at his chronometer dramatically, “about fifteen seconds.”

Rush downs all three shots of the nicest bottle of whiskey I’ve ever seen. 21st century, real whiskey, not the synthetic crap Frank normally serves.

Properly lubricated, Rush turns to me with a grin.

“Wanna see a magic trick? Hold my beer,” He holds out the beer to me and releases it. I make no move to catch it, instead letting it shatter on the floor between us, much to Frank’s chagrin.

Rush nonchalantly unholsters his sidearm, brandishing it towards the crowd of unconcerned patrons. “Any Daemons lurking round here can go right ahead and stand up! Anyone who has no clue what I’m talking about, leave before things get ugly!”

My gun’s out and at my side. A black-handled pulse-coil revolver. Fires as fast as I can release the trigger, each bolt only as powerful as it needs to be, all depends on how long I hold it down. A quick squeeze acts like a tranq-dart, stuns most folk n puts 'em down if there wasn't much fight in 'em to begin with. A second longer knocks 'em cold, probably need a med-patch for the burns and bruises. Longer pulls are one-way-ticket lethal, all that changes on the longer pulls is the size of the exit wound.

"Rush, protect and serve, not terrorize and harrass!" I have no intention of hitting my partner with anything harder than a stunner, but he’s acting weird. “I’m gonna need an explanation here right quick, partner.”

Rush shushes me and points to the thinning crowd.

About twenty or so people book it out the door, including Doc. The remaining dozen stand right where they are and start drawing weapons, not all of them as sophisticated as mine. All are set to kill one way or another.

Rush makes introductions. “Taylor, meet the Daemons. You might know them by their old name. Sons of Deimos, same ones who blew up Phobos and gave us that gorgeous planetary ring. Daemons, this is Duke Taylor himself. This guy’s killed all twelve of you fifty times over without hardly breaking a sweat. Sometimes you get him with a lucky shot, most times you don’t. But he always kills every last one of you.”

I wish I could say I had no clue what he was talking about, but unfortunately some things were starting to come into focus.

The shooting starts with no further warning.

Rush unleashes a charged shot that lances through three of these so-called Daemons, and quickly stuns two more before the bodies have a chance to drop.

Then he’s flipping over the bar; leaving me in the lurch.

Five down, seven to go.

I’ve been in plenty of gunfights throughout my tenure in Sol. Spilt more than my fair share of blood across Earth, Luna, Mars, even Venus. When the shooting starts I’m already in motion.

One potshot from the hip hits number six right between the eyes. I imagine it would be about as gentle as a direct hit from a prizefighter, but at least it’s not a hole through the skull.

I kick a table up to cover my flank from targets ten and eleven as I clip seven and eight back-to-back, spinning them both around from the impact of the stun bolts I’m flinging their way.

Nine takes a pulse to the knee, a stronger bolt to the chest, and goes down cold.

Ten pumps a trench gun and blasts a ragged hole through my impromptu cover, forcing me to roll out from around the table and take three best-guess type shots.

Ten and his buddy eleven break a table on their way down.

Frank pops up from behind the bar with a trench gun of his own and blasts number twelve away into the ether, leaving only him, Rush, and me left breathing.

Rush stands up, gun drawn, whiskey bottle in hand, and chuckles to himself. "Every time, Taylor. Every damn time."

I’ve had enough. “What the hell’s going on here Rush?”

He grimaces and takes a swig before he replies. “Sorry Duke, that’s ‘need to know.’ Just like what really went down on Luna.”

My blood runs cold at that. There’s no way he can know about that. None.

“Oh yeah. I know, buddy. And that’s just the start. See I’ve been stuck reliving this day over and over, and I’ve learned so much!” Another swig. He holsters his pistol and slides gracelessly back over the bartop.

My gun’s still in my hand.

“Explain. Real slow. What you’re talking about.”

Rush just keeps on walking towards the hatch. “No time. Yvonne’s on her way. She’s awake too, loop after loop. Except she’s working with the Daemons. Trying to stop Concordia from reaching Titan. She says ‘Humans already fucked up three planets, we have no right to go trekking through the stars looking for more to destroy.’ Didn’t know she was a fanatic. Maybe she wasn’t the first time around. Maybe they turned her later on, few too many loops deep, like I am now. Don’t know, don’t care. She’s gotta die, or I do. Otherwise, the loop ends, and it’s bye-bye Concordia!”

A pulse-shot sounds outside the bar and I hear a sound I’m not likely to soon forget. Doc screaming. The second shot silences his agony.

Hatch cycles open. In walks Yvonne. Twin pistols on her hips flipped the wrong way around for style and speed.

Rush groans. “Alright, bitch, let’s get this over wi-”

Yvonne stuns Rush twice in the chest, puts him down without taking him out. Then her eyes pan over to me.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve tried to do that, only for you to put me down a moment too soon. What’s the matter, Tay’? Not buying it this time around?”

I don’t holster my gun, but I don’t raise it either. “Time loop, huh? Same as Luna?”

She nods.

“How many resets?”

“Eight-four and counting.”

I wince. “Reckless.”

“That’s why I’m here. Rush doesn’t understand all the variables to these resets. If he knew what we do, about the collateral, maybe he’d see things my way. Concordia has to go down. It’s the only way. So, how about we take him out of the loop, put you in, and make the galaxy a better place. Together.”

“Without humans?”

“Without human mistakes.”

“I’m listening,” I lie. My kid’s on that ship.

“No you’re not. But you will. In time.”

My gun comes up but she’s faster. This time.

…

I’m standing outside of a bar called the Bridge to Nowhere, watching my kid blast off into the upper atmosphere; outbound for a better life. Same as before.

Only now I’m awake inside the reset.

Now the real work begins.