Chapter 11: High Noon, Part 2

“Nothing is more dangerous than facing a Shal’rein in a gun battle, whether it be in space or, more importantly, on the ground. The Shal’rein soldier is only outmatched by the Alara’jal. With all that considered, the Shal’rein are long adaptable and flexible to their environment. While the Alara’jal can rule ground combat, they cannot control the waves, for the Shal’rein have long mastered using and leaving their aquatic landscapes behind. However, much remains to be considered about how humans must face against such adversity. Often the only way for them to win against the Shal’rein is to have their own solutions, entertain their thoughts, use their expertise, retain the fighting spirit, and continue forth. If it’s one observation that I’ve seen so far, it is that the humans are still capable of defeating a Shal’rein. The mistake being that the Shal’rein grew too overconfident, knowing that they would win. It is not luck that the humans should depend on, but a carefully designed strategy. The Shal’rein, on the other hand, are just as likely to lose when facing an enemy that they know little about...” Shira, 2350 AD.

“I am sorry,” Swi’ya said. Her body appeared to be weak. Darin understood why, as she decided to have him fight Go’denza alone.

“ ... No one can predict where the winds will blow, Swi’ya,” Darin said. He reached toward the top of the stairs, pulled out his revolver, and began the process of unloading and reloading new rounds in its place. Meanwhile, Swi’ya walked over and placed her hand on the balcony.

“Dearie...,” Feri’nita’s voice echoed from Darin’s comm device. “Don’t do this.”

“There was more that Go’denza had to say, am I right?” he asked.

“Yes..., she did. You have three minutes to walk out and face her. If you don’t, she’ll come in and kill everyone.”

“Then I reckon this is the only path ahead of the hallowed lightning.” The cowboy finished topping off his revolver before putting the gun into its side holster.

“Cap...,” Czarek said to him, hobbling over to the door frame of one of the nearby rooms. “You don’t have to face her alone. We can shoot our way out.”

“You and I know that ain’t going to work,” Darin replied. “Go’denza knows it too. Six Shal’rein might as well be an army. The rest of Jiqua’nyu are spent, and we can’t ask them to sacrifice themselves anymore than they already have.”

“Go’denza is a good shooter...”

“I hear ya, partner ... Her shootin iron can clear out the town alone.”

Darin pulled out his rifle and began to check his gun. He began pulling out fresh rounds and inserting them, flipping the lever open, and switching the mechanism on near the trigger well so he could rapid-fire it on every cycle.

“Darin,” Feri’nita said. Her voice seemed dire. “Please ... don’t do this. We can make a run for it ... wait for Charles and the shuttle to arrive to help us.”

“All roads lead to the same ... Tell me how this process is going to work.”

Swi’ya spoke in her Itrean language quickly so that Feri’nita could hear it in the comms. After a few clicks and chirps, she waved the cowboy on, making sure not to take up his time any more than it had to be. Closing his lever to partway, Darin shouldered his rifle on his left shoulder so that it wouldn’t slow him down, giving him access to either gun.

The man looked at Natch. The Native American was still tending to his wound, but he could see that his friend had a strong hint of concern for him. He could only know that the man was going to be put into a world of hurt, having to face off against a foe much stronger than ever anticipated.

“Plan B, Darin?” Natch questioned him.

“Plan B, Natch,” Darin replied affirmatively.

For Natch, he could see the cowboy lightly tip his hat towards him. Natch, in return, pumped his fist to his chest to wish him luck. Both could see that neither was afraid, ready to face whatever was thrown at them. With that, Darin began the very slow process of walking down the stairs.

“Darin,” Feri’nita explained. “You remember the duels we watched together? ... The movies you showed me of the Wild West?”

“Yep,” Darin commented.

“I’ve only heard of Bataya’Lo’Hef once ... it’s more than a challenge. It’s a Shal’rein tradition ... only used when both sides grow too weak to fight one another.”

“Much like now,” Darin commented as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Pull out your tablet and set it to ping at noon. Go’denza will do the same with her tilon. You have your device synced with Denji’Kei time?”

“Yep,” the cowboy commented, pulling out his tablet from his pocket. He had the perfect sound attuned to notify him. He began to head toward the saloon door, making sure that the boot spurs would clink across the deck as loudly as possible.

“Will she follow the rules?” the cowboy asked.

“She should...,” Feri’nita continued. “The Shal’rein still honor such traditions. One vs one. Hopefully her warriors will do the same. Do as you did in the movies, dearie. At noon, when the alarm strikes, both of you will draw your guns and shoot each other. The one left standing is the winner...”

Darin nodded his head. “Let me take care of the rest, then. We’ll be done in time for supper...”

“Itrea’s embrace...” Feri’nita commented.

From the top of the stairs, Czarek began to hobble towards the room adjacent to the other where the dead Shal’rein resided, using his rifle stock to help stabilize him in his walk. Natch sighed and stood up, being careful not to add injury to his arm anymore. He wanted to make sure the jump trooper wouldn’t do anything reckless.

“Let Darin do what he needs to do,” Natch told him.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Czarek replied as he got to the window and took a knee on his working leg. “I just wanted to ... make sure I can provide backup if things get hairy.”

Natch went and had a seat on the lone bed in the room. The mattress seemingly could barely hold the towering man. Blood would continue to soak the bandages, but Natch did his best to keep everything contained. Meanwhile, Czarek leaned against the wall, able to see everything that was about to happen outside.

The saloon door popped open as Darin’s hands neatly pressed against the top portions of the wood. Five of the Shal’rein stood in place, outward in a curved wall encompassing their leader.

Go’denza remained fearless, undaunted by the lone human that emerged from the Hebis’soka. She stood in the center of the gang as the rest of the shark women began to fan out in a wide pattern. From Darin’s viewpoint, he could see that a few Yutilians stood in the vast distance of the outer buildings, peering from their doors and windows. Scores of the dead lay strewn about from Shal’rein to Yutilians alike. That said, it could have been worse. Most of the places with bullet holes were near the center of town. The other buildings remained mostly untouched.

The Shal’rein women didn’t fare much better. Without their armor, the injuries they sustained were prevalent. One woman had been struck four times during the shootout; her poncho was covered in blood, with one of her eyes shot out, blood dripping out from the socket. How she endured the pain was remarkable. Another had a shaking arm, struck by two bullets near the same place. She could only grit her teeth at the human. Only Go’denza seemed the least harmed, but the black clothing might also have concealed any injuries she sustained as well.

The scene remained quiet as the cowboy placed his tablet on the Hebis’soka deck. He turned and walked down the deck onto the sandy road ahead. Placing his hands to his hips, he remained defiant, knowing that he stood at an angry cohort, those tired or frustrated that the fight didn’t go their way. Despite this, they remained cordial at best, making sure their leader handled the rest.