Eventuality of the Scramble Short Story Preview

Ever wondered what happens when you combine the rich world of Carbon 2185 with the space western genre? Want to see what life is like in one of the off-world colonies away from the cyberpunk hell hole of Earth? Then keep an eye on this space. I am currently writing a series of short space western stories set at the far reaches of the Carbon 2185 universe. Hopefully in the future there will be sufficient demand to create a Sourcebook based on the locations in these stories. For now, here is the first draft page of "Eventuality of the Scramble" "The endless expanse of fresh, white snow was broken only by a small town on the horizon, appearing as if it had been clumsily dropped into this otherwise picturesque view.

A gust of wind pierced through his multiple layers, biting his skin. The cracked screen of his wrist mounted Khan-Maezawa VM3 stated that he would begin to experience symptoms of hypothermia in just over 3 hours.

The town was his destination. His one destination. The only place he could think about for the past few months. Within its high, grotty old walls, this town had what he needed, information.

The pristine knee deep snowfall matured to a dirty sludge as he approached the looming walls and the closed town gate. Simple gallows constructed from the cheap light blue polymer common in this hemisphere flanked the entrance. Six in total, three on each side. Four of them were adorned by corpses bound and hung by their wrists, swaying gently in the breeze. The rigidity of them struck him. They must be frozen solid. Bind someone, remove their thermal layers, and watch them die in the cold.

The loose floral patterned poncho draped on one of the bodies caught his eye. Due to the elemental damage to the flesh, it was impossible to identify this person from their features.

Around the metal gate, the otherwise featureless concrete walls were pockmarked by damage from firearms. Many of the marks could fit a whole fist, while others were larger, exposing the steel rebar within the outer wall structure.

At first he thought that this must have been a fort during the insurrection, but these pockmarks were far newer than that. There were no signs of repairs, and the steel hadn’t begun to corrode yet.

Two people stood guard on the wall above the gate. Their faces obscured by thermal wraps and dark goggles. Essential items to avoid damage from the harsh winds and blindingly bright snow. They were wearing tattered old Paragon Star uniforms, repaired at least a dozen times and faded over time by the unforgiving ultraviolet light of the closest star. A bold choice of attire on Tenbar following the insurrection. They each carried standard issue Paragon Star repeating rifles even older than their uniforms. The postures of the guards suggested that they had once been well trained soldiers. One of the guards slightly favoured their left leg. The other was holding their rifle too steeply, putting more weight on the left hand. “Joint injuries.” He thought to himself “These people aren’t old, but they aren’t young either.”

The battlements atop the grey concrete walls hid their lower halves from view, but he knew they would be carrying sidearms. Neither was wearing the pressed dark blue of an officer’s uniform, so their sidearms must be ancient 10mm pistols.

Paragon Star officers carried .50 cal matt black revolvers like the one resting beneath his outer layer on his right hip."

- Robert Marriner-Dodds