Russ burst into Gil's saloon, Crag trailing behind him.

Heads swung toward him, then ducked back, resuming position, no doubt cowed by the embers in his menacing gaze. Two pretended they had not seen him, sweaty Milton and Edom. He stormed right up to the boys, standing between their stools.

"Hey Dep," said Edom. "You got that cocky Terran locked up?"

"Nope. Sheriff let him walk."

"Why he do that?" asked Milton.

Russ inhaled deeply, biting his lip and pushing his bowler hat over his forehead to his hairline. "I don't quite know. Doesn't matter. I'm deputizing both of you right now. We goin' after that dirty Terran."

The morons grinned and turned back to their drinks.

"You think I'm joking? Get your speeder. Let's go."

"I thought you said Sheriff let him walk?"

"He did. Now he wants us to see him outta town."

"You saw how smooth his draw was," said Milton. "Could've blown both our hands off. I ain't going after him."

Edom nodded.

Russ snarled and tugged both of them off their butts by their collars. Glasses tipped. Drinks drained. Stools toppled.

Milton swore with vigor. "Shale and squalor. What's wrong with you Russ?"

Russ reprimanded the two men, then sent them to their speeder to wait for the rest of the posse.

Crag grinned, arms folded, enjoying his partner's outburst against the drinkers. Russ backhanded his chest. "Get with it, rock head."

"What's your deal, partner?"

"No one's taking us seriously with you grinning like a mutt."

Crag's eternal grin shrank into pursed-lip embarrassment.

Russ rolled his eyes. Now he'd done it. Gone and hurt his partner's feelings. He knew how this would play out. A silent pout would overtake Crag, like a kid bottling up his anger, and then he'd explode on Russ at the worst time. Couldn't have the animosity between them while hunting Trace the Ace. They needed to focus on the same goal.

Russ balled his hand and punched a table.

"Hey."

"Sorry Gil." He put a hand on Crag's shoulder, his other hand pinching the space between his eyebrows. "Look, Crag. Sorry I exploded on you. Now, can you do something important for me?"

"What?"

"Go get one good gunner. Just one. Can you do that?"

"Of course I can. Why, Pete's right over there."

"Good. Grab Pete. Deputize him. Meet me back at the speeder."

"Wait, we're really going to off a fellow lawman for the sheriff."

A sharp hiss cut through Russ' teeth. He looked around, but no one in the saloon paid them any attention. "Quiet fool. You want the whole town to hear?"

Crag lowered his voice. "But we really doing it?"

Russ considered telling Crag that Sheriff only wanted them to get rough if Tracy resisted arrest, but Russ decided to omit that detail. "He ain't no lawman. He swaggered into our town, made us look like fools, armed himself to the teeth, and left with his nose turned up. I don't care what shape his badge is. A Terran rat is still a rat. So sure as the twin moons, I'm going to see him fall into that canyon."

Russ turned heel.

"Where you going?"

"To get my one gunner."

Crag grunted, holding back a word.

"I have to."

"Him? Really?"

"You saw how good the Terran was."

Crag hocked a loogie into a spittoon. "Fine. But he's riding with Pete. I'm still your shotgun."

"Of course you are."

Crag nodded, satisfied, his mood back to normal.

Russ rolled his eyes. Sometimes Crag could get a mean jealous streak. It wasn't like he and Crag were friends. Just deputies together.

Russ whipped out his comm and swiped a few creds towards Gil for the mess he made. The saloon owner got the ping and nodded to Russ.

Russ stormed out of the saloon to go find Quynn. A weight rested on his shoulders. He felt eyes boring into his back as if everyone in the saloon was following him out. He hated making scenes. And no thanks to the Sheriff, he only had a small window of opportunity to catch up to the Terran before the rat got away for good.

Sometimes Russ despised the Sheriff's decisions. No. Not some. Most times. Leroux seemed to think that he led by assigning orders, but never by doing the dirty work himself. This put Russ in the position of always bearing the bad news, always being the bad guy. He had to enforce the Sheriff's word, stand up for his bad decisions, and deal with the molehills that Leroux let build into mountains. All of this stemmed from the fact that Leroux was handed the position on a silver platter, without earning it.

The more Leroux did not lift a finger, the more apparent his lack of practical application became. Worst part? Leroux seemed oblivious to all the added stress he piled onto Russ. Only things he noticed were mistakes Russ made. Then he'd come down on Russ hard. Yelling. He never said anything overtly offensive, but having to take a yelling from one grown man to another was shameful.

Russ' only silver lining in this situation was finding an excuse to deputize his best friend.

He found Quynn just getting back to his modular home from working at the Olympus Mons quarry. Red dust soiled his jumpsuit from head to foot, and his hardhat was no different. A figure eight around his eyes and a triangle stretching from the top of his nose to the bottom of his mouth were the only places the goggles and a respirator had prevented dust from staining Quynn.

Aside from the dust covering him, he was the same Quynn that Russ befriended all those years ago. He had one of those faces that was not drastically impacted come puberty, but stayed virtually the same. Though they'd gone into different professions, he into the quarrying and Russ into law enforcement, their frequent and open conversations only strengthened their bond.

The whole situation Leroux threw him in wouldn't magically go away, but seeing his friend made Russ give a weak smile and a sigh.

"What's wrong, bud? I know that sigh. Sounds like Sheriff's got you in a bind again."

"You said it. That piece of splitshale..."

Russ hardly explained the scenario before Quynn snapped and pointed his cyborg hand like a finger gun while winking. "Offing a Terran. Say no more brother."

Being the grandson of Rubrum homesteaders himself, Quynn shared his sentiments towards Earthers.

A smirk crossed Russ' mouth. He ignored the official deputizing of Quynn. They did not have time. "Grab your blasters. You're riding with Pete."

"Of all people, why Pete?"

Russ neglected to tell him Milton and Edom were coming too. He did not want Quynn backing out. "Forget about Pete. Just focus on nixing the Terran."

He omitted the fact that it was Trace the Ace they were after, in case Quynn had heard of him. Likely he hadn't, but word spread faster through Tharsis than gauss projectiles.