Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Midvalley's Serenade ❯ Into the Badlands ( Chapter 31 )

Into the Badlands

Nick got out of bed next morning and moved about for a bit with the tubes that fed antibiotics and painkillers into his veins still attached to his arm. After the nurse bathed and shaved him, he finally ate some solid food-eggs and toast--and managed to keep it down. But by ten in the morning, the few things he'd done exhausted him and by 10:30, when I looked in on him again, he had dozed off.

I went to the fifth floor café and had an omelet and coffee. The observation window displayed a panorama of sand hills and limestone of a wearisome sameness that tired my eyes and my mind. Since my worries about Nick's well-being had eased, the doctor's suggestion that I get some rest began to seem more and more desirable. I hadn't slept well the night before, and Hot Lips and Dixie both commented on how tired I looked. Dave and Lenny breezed in for brunch looking at peace with the world.

"You look like shit, Hornfreak," said Lenny. "If I didn't know better, I'd have thought you'd been the one who got shot. We're going to play in the saloon lounge tonight, why don't you get some sack time and join us for a rehearsal at seven? Jason found this great corridor down near the boiler room. The acoustics are out of this world."

With so much advice and my own eyes slipping shut to betray me, I didn't bother finishing my coffee, but agreed to rehearse, mumbled good-byes, took the stairs back down to my room and went to bed. The steady thrum of the sandsteamer engine lulled me to sleep in no time.

I woke up a little after 4 in the afternoon, awakened by the sudden quiet when the engine that drove the steamer stopped. I heard the captain announce that we had arrived in September for a two-hour layover.

I felt well-rested. After I washed up, I checked in on Nick. He was still conked out, so I walked out to one of the observation points on the first floor to watch the stevedores off-load freight and see what passengers might be boarding. There were about fifty cavalry troopers milling around armed with rifles, but they snapped into ranks when their sergeant hollered, "Attention!"

As they marched onto the steamer, I wondered if they were traveling to a new post or if they'd been assigned to provide extra protection from bandits.

I was a little surprised to see Hot Lips among those passengers boarding the vessel. He caught my eye, waved and in a few more minutes, joined me by the railing.

"You look better, Midvalley," he said.

"What have you been up to?" I asked.

"Just a little business. I met with one of the cell informants to see if there was any news on the whereabouts of Vash the Stampede, but no one's seen hide nor hair of him.

"Any explanation why a platoon of cavalry troopers joined us?"

"The rumor is that a gang of thieves is planning to rob the sandsteamer."

"It would take a real fool to try that," I said. "Or someone as daring as Brilliant Dynamites Neon. But I wonder just how brilliant he really is. His last attempt ended in failure."

Hot Lips said, "I heard that Vash the Stampede was on that steamer. From what I know of him, the best laid plans seem to get fucked up beyond all belief when he's around. But Neon isn't in the area at the moment. Two new gangs are operating in the badlands, one called the Sand Vipers and the other gang is The Sons of Augusta. That's all the information the Mouth of Gabriel has at the moment."

"I've been curious about the organization, especially since you told me my mother was an informant," I said with a serious look at my father. "She died so long ago. There must be a lot of history. I'd like to know something about the organization I'm serving, if it's not asking too much."

"Have you ever heard of Hiro Jigenzan?" my father asked.

"I met a man named Rai-dei the Blade, who had been trained at the Jigenzan School of Bushido," I said.

"Rai-dei the Blade was something of a renegade in the eyes of Jigenzan," said Hot Lips.

"I hadn't heard anything about that," I commented.

"The Jigenzan School lies about 1000 iles north of the ruins of July," Hot Lips began. "Hiro Jigenzan, the founder, was a scientist, a poet, an artist and a fully realized master of bushido, the way of the warrior, but he was a warrior who believed in peace. He was one of the original travelers who cold-slept his way from Earth to Planet Gunsmoke and part of the team that helped to develop the energy plants. He wasn't aware until much later that he took a very different view of plant development than his fellow scientists."

"Though the climate of this planet was harsh, Jigenzan believed that with time and patience, humankind and plantkind would eventually live together in a beautiful symbiosis. A new Eden could be created where the two species could live in perfect harmony. But Hiro Jigenzan's view was a minority opinion, and the other scientists moved forward with plans to exploit the sentient plants. Jigenzan refused to be party to what he considered enslavement. He was also appalled by the violence and lawlessness that followed in the wake of the Seeds ships crash landings and decided to form his own small colony based on spiritual precepts, rather than ruthless pragmatism."

"He was a brilliant man who developed the dew farms that provided much of the water before the energy plants became fully operational. His fellow scientists felt dew farms were a waste of time when plants could be exploited to provide water. He preached against plant abuse, gained a small band of devoted followers and set off into the wilderness, with some plant offshoots and some old technology to create his Eden. Midvalley, I have seen it. It's not Eden but it's close, plants and humans living in near perfect equilibrium with no enslavement."

"It sounds beautiful," I said, "but what part does the Mouth of Gabriel play in all this?"

"Jigenzan founded the Mouth of Gabriel because he believed in justice enough to want to right a wrong. The plants that live in the protective globes of the energy bulbs have been genetically altered against their will so that they cannot survive outside the core. There are other plants who have evolved beyond the genetic manipulation. Master Knives has attained that higher state of evolution, far beyond humankind in intellect, power, creativity and life span. Jigenzan believe that plants are divine creatures and founded the Mouth of Gabriel to spread that truth and to work to help Master Knives free his brethren from slavery."

"And what is Vash the Stampede's place in all this?" I wanted to know.

"We believe that Vash the Stampede shares his brother's divinity but it is because he chooses to resist his brother that our planet is torn with strife and bloodshed and why plants are still enslaved. We of the Mouth of Gabriel believe that when the brothers are reunited, a new Eden will be formed and an era of peace and plenty will follow. We are willing to sacrifice our lives to attain this Eden."

"You make it sound like a religion."

"It is," said Hot Lips.

"I've never considered myself a religious man. I don't believe in God, or heaven or hell. If I believe in anything at all, it's good music," I said with a shake of my head.

"The question you must ask yourself is do you believe in Master Knives." Hot Lips said.

"I have the utmost respect for Master Knives and I serve him to the best of my ability."

"He is aware and has taken note of your abilities. That is why he wants you at Legato's side and why he asked me to recruit you into the Mouth of Gabriel."

"Master Knives wanted me? It wasn't just a request from Legato?" I was very surprised to hear that.

"The order came from Master Knives," Hot Lips assured me. "There is more I would like to tell you, but I can only share the information with you if you elect to become a fully initiated member of the Mouth of Gabriel."

"Initiation sounds formal. It's a little off-putting," I said.

"It is a baptism of sorts, and necessary security for your fellow members."

"Give me some time to decide. This is all pretty sudden. I know I will have some questions for you about it later," I said.

"Of course, but I'm sure you'll come to a decision soon and you won't regret it," Hot Lips finished. He seemed to have no doubt that I would choose to be initiated. I felt tempted to say yes, then and there, but decided to sleep on it for a few days, at least until Nick was feeling better.

"You've given me a lot to think about," I said. "I'll see you later tonight at rehearsal."

"Sure thing."

I went back to check on Nick. He was still sleeping. The color in his face was much better.

"He finished eating a little while ago. He was up for about a half an hour and asked for you," said Ruby.

I was sorry I'd missed visiting with him, but I could tell the rest he was getting was doing him good. I decided it was time to take care of some personal business.

There was a laundry and tailoring service on board. I took some shirts, socks and other articles to be washed and I wanted to see if they could get the bloodstains out of my suit and Nick's.

"Do you think the tailor can mend the bullet holes in these trousers?" I asked the girl on duty at the counter as I handed her the black pants from Nick's suit.

"Don't worry, Mister. Our tailor, Murray, is a genius at invisible mending and our new sonic stain removers work even on dried blood. You'll never know there had been a bullet hole in the pants by the time he gets finished with them," she assured me.

I went to the barber sharp to get a shave and a haircut and asked the shoe-shine boy on duty to polish my wingtips.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully.

I met the band for practice in the corridor with the great acoustics that Jason had found. We had a blast playing around. Dixie's harmonica sounded fabulous. We finally got so worked up, we went up to the lounge to entertain and earned a nice chunk of double dollars when we passed the hat.

Dave sold a lot of mini albums for us, but had to practically beat off the attractive women who wanted to take him to their sleeping berths. We quit a little after midnight. I went to bed soon after, slept well and woke up the next morning, just as the steamer was pulling into October.

I went to check on Nick first thing. He was still in some pain

"Can I get you anything, Nick," I asked him.

"A new body would be nice," he joked. "This one hurts too much."

Despite his humorous tone I could tell he was serious, but he added, "I really don't need anything, but the pain eases and I feel better when I can sleep. I can feel the wound healing."

"Rest is the best thing for Mr. Wolfwood, right now," said Dr. Reed.

On the two-hour layover in October, the steamer off-loaded some passengers and a number of armored vehicles. Among the freight to be loaded was a herd of some ten tomases that refused to cooperate with their wrangler. One of the tomases was in heat, and the aggressive head-butting of the studs had a number of passengers betting on the outcome.

Hot Lips had made another brief trip off the steamer to see if there had been any sign of Vash the Stampede, but the response from the cell in the city of October was negative.

The wrangler ruined a lot of wagers when he tranquilized the rowdy animals.

I went up to the casino to have a brandy in the bar. I watched some of the hard-core gamblers play poker for a while. It looked like some of them had been up all night. I was never much of a betting man myself, I thought as I sipped my drink. Nick was the only one who could get me to play cards. The only game I cared to play with him was strip poker, but then that was a game where it didn't seem to matter which of us got the best hand. We both ended up winning, I recalled with a smile.

By lunchtime, I was bored enough to flip through some old newspapers and magazines that I found in the reading room. A sandsteamer picked up papers from all over. There were copies of the September Sentinel, the November Daily News, The October Tribune, Mei City Times and the December Star, not to mention, the filthiest rag on the planet, The Daily Dish.

There were several illustrated articles in the Dish on Vash the Stampede. He was certainly photogenic I had to admit. I didn't know many people who could carry off a spiked hairstyle like his or that long flowing red coat without looking ridiculous. I tried to imagine myself in the same outfit and failed.

"Murderer or Misunderstood" read one headline. That article rehashed the destruction of July and August and provided a couple of eyewitness accounts of how on other occasions, Vash the Stampede kept a plant from blowing up and put a greedy water baron out of business. The article couldn't decide whether to peg him as evil incarnate or a latter-day Robin Hood.

If the editors of the Dish paid their so-called witnesses enough money they could get any story they wanted, I decided. I shook my head, flipped the page and saw an ad for the Midvalley Seven with Kenny McCoy. It was an old one from a couple of months ago. I flipped another few pages and saw a small picture of me. I looked like hell. The caption read, "Plotzed at the Mei Queen."

I read the accompanying article.

"Friends of music gave us this tasty tidbit about Midvalley the Hornfreak, aka the Sax God. The, switch-hitting musician, troubled by rumors that he murdered music rival, Skip Walker, was reportedly drunk as a skunk at the May Queen Club, so drunk he fainted and couldn't perform."

That was total crap. I had one drink and even though I was sick I finished the set. I continued reading.

"There were reports that he was drunk and disorderly in clubs from May City to November. What's the real reason that the scheduled tour to December was cancelled? The destruction of the City of Augusta was a good cover, but ask anybody… the real reason was, that Midvalley the Hornfreak's drinking problem is so bad.

"He blacked out," said one anonymous source in October, " and not more than a few minutes later, I saw him puking his guts out in the can. I just wish he'd sober up. He used to be so good. Now he's a joke."

Used to be-I'm better now than I ever was, I thought. I wondered where the hell they were getting their stories. I had gotten sick, but it wasn't from drinking. The story sounded factual but it was an out and out lie.

I threw the magazine back down on the table in exasperation. But with nothing better to do, I picked up a month-old copy of the Mei City Times. It couldn't be as offensive as what I'd just read.

This copy had a little story about Vash the Stampede and the Quick Draw tournament with a mention of Nicholas D. Wolfwood. I flipped to the back page to finish the reading the article only to find that someone had ripped out a coupon for hemorrhoid cream and the part of the story that featured Nick was missing.

In another newspaper I found a story that speculated about the fall of Augusta. The facts were wrong as usual, so I turned the page and came upon a new piece of gossip.

"Mei City resident, Midvalley the Hornfreak was recently spotted in Augusta in the company of a blue-haired Adonis. The couple, allegedly in the pay of the very private multi-billionaire, the mysterious Knives Millions, recently shared a room in the Grand Hotel.

"And that's not all they shared," reported a waitress who asked that we withhold her name. "When I went up to deliver the whipped cream and cherries they ordered, they were just too busy doing something else to come to the door. From the moaning and groaning and the bedsprings squeaking, there was obviously a lot of service going on in there already, if you know what I mean."

"We know," the article finished.

I shook my head in wonder at the imagination of the writer of the article and I wondered what Nick would think if he read lies like that about me. Completely disgusted, I flung the paper down and headed back to see how he was feeling.

He was just getting back in bed, his forehead dripping from the exertion of moving around in his weakened condition.

"Are you okay, Nick? Can I get you something?" I asked him.

"He was doing great, but he got tired," said Ruby.

"I'm not tired. A couple of packs of Black Kat cigarettes, an ash tray, and some black coffee will fix what ails me," he growled. "And I told you that three times already."

"I'll be back soon," I said and chuckled to myself as I hurried off to a kiosk to get him what he wanted. If he wanted black coffee and cigarettes, he was surely on the mend and that relieved me no end.

Nick was still awake when I got back and once I got his cigarette lit and he had smoked enough to begin to relax, I asked "Is there someone from the orphanage that we can contact to meet us at the sandsteamer in December?"

"No one in town," he responded slowly, "but if you send a wire, they should get it in a couple of days."

"Why a couple of days?"

"The orphanage is a little further out."

"I thought the orphanage was in the city. "

"That's just where we have our post office box."

"Oh, so you're outside the city limits."

"You could say that."

I didn't like the look he had on his face when he said it.

"Just where is your orphanage located?" I asked.

"It's about 300 iles southwest of December."

"300 iles?!" I exclaimed. "Fuck!"

The trip was going to take a lot longer than I had anticipated.

"Hey, it keeps the kids out of harm's way," Nick said. "December is a pretty dangerous city. It's much safer at the orphanage and the distance involved actually makes us a lot more prudent about spending…"

"The question is how do we get there?" I interrupted. I had the feeling that he could have given me chapter and verse on the benefits of the orphanage location, but at the moment I was only interested in how we were going to get there.

"Well, December is every bit as metropolitan as Mei City. We could rent a van, or maybe Lenny would let you borrow his."

"Not a bad idea," I said with a quirk of my eyebrows.

"Midvalley, is there any chance I could get my clothes back soon?" Nick asked. "Ruby told me you took them to be cleaned. I want to be wearing my suit when the children see me. I'd rather they didn't see me looking sick."

"I'll pick them up today," I said.

"Thanks for doing that for me, partner," he said as he extinguished the butt of his smoke, "and for the cigarettes." Despite the cup of black coffee, Nick could barely keep his eyes open. He tried to stifle his yawns, but in a few minutes, he nodded off.

I went to the cleaners and picked up the laundry. Nick's suit looked good as new. My light-weight chartreuse double-breasted suit had the faintest shadow stain on it, and I wondered if I should just live with the discoloration or try to get it re-dyed. I decided to live with it for the moment. It was barely noticeable. I brought Nick's suit back to his room. He was still resting so I handed the suit to Ruby.

Just a half an hour later, the sandsteamer arrived in November. While the steamer took on freight and passengers, I swung by my compartment to pick up Silvia and joined the band in the lounge. Everyone was eating dinner. I bought a bowl of chili and crackers and ate it while I listened to Lenny talk about concert prospects in December.

"A friend of mine who works the satellite broadcast has been doing publicity for us. Things have been quiet since Augusta, but we should get a pretty decent turn-out he told me. We've got some dates at private clubs and with luck we can rent the armory and get a big weekend crowd."

I listened absently. I had a lot on my mind with what Hot Lips had told me about the plants and the Mouth of Gabriel. The knowledge that Master Knives had been responsible for my reassignment, not Legato made me feel more positive about the job change. In a sense that made Master Knives my boss, not Legato. As grateful as I must be to Legato for the past kindness he had shown me, I no longer felt I could trust him completely.

The stop in November was relatively short and an hour later just as the second sun sank below the horizon., we entered the badlands. On the observation deck, several cavalry troops with binoculars scanned the horizon for dust clouds or any other signs of outlaws on the move. I asked a burly whiskered trooper if he'd seen anything.

"Just the trails of a caravan," he sighed almost regretfully "I'd just like to see outlaws try and take this steamer. We're well-armed and ready to repulse any attack."

I wished I felt as confident, but I wasn't particularly impressed with the fact that the government had laid on an extra fifty troopers to guard a five-story sandsteamer.

By eight o'clock the steamer was deep in the badlands and the band was in the lounge playing "Cocksure" when the captain announced over the loud speaker that all passengers should proceed slowly without panic to their compartments.

The cavalry troops aimed to see that passengers obeyed, but the crowd became uneasy when the first wave of armored vehicles approached. The passengers in the casino were very calm to begin with and started down the stairs in an orderly fashion.

But all that changed in an instant when a volley of random bullets rapid-fire shots shattered the big glass window. A woman screamed and several passengers broke for the exits.

"Remain calm," commanded the cavalry sergeant in a deep voice that cowed the crowd into behaving. But a minute later, another volley rang out and a woman in a spangled evening gown lurched forward onto the green baize roulette table, staining it with arterial blood that fountained out of her chest.

Then the lounge erupted into mob violence. Passengers screamed and jammed the exits, clawing, shoving and kicking as each tried to be the first to get down the staircase. I didn't care to join the herd. The troops could do nothing to stop the mad rush.

I was angry with the crowd, angry with the bandits. Every time I heard a gunshot, I got a mental image of a stray bullet ending Nick's life or smashing into the bottles of life-giving medicine that dripped into his arms and I began to be consumed by my anger. My hands tightened on Silvia. I doubted I could make it down the congested stairwell to rejoin Nick but I soon had another plan in mind.

Something sparked in a cold vengeful part of my brain, a sensation, primal and reptilian. I uttered a short bark of bitter laughter and met Hot Lip's eyes with mine. He looked as feral as I felt. His hands on his trumpet and mine on Silvia, we ascended the steps to the top deck and looked down at the vehicles streaming alongside our steamer.

Anger drove me. I stood on the parapet, put Silvia to my lips and blew a string of sickening notes, wild and dissonant that thickened the air before me. My thoughts grew more malevolent as I blew, Hatred filled me as I thought of Big Bill McFarlane and my mother's ruined face. My fury spawned powerful churning dust devils.

I was only dimly aware of the sound of Hot Lip's trumpet, but I matched the unearthly brazen notes he played with a demonic harmony of my own that found the weakest links in the human flesh that drove those vehicles down below and broke them. I willed the blood to welter from their noses, ears, and eyes and mouths. I willed their vehicles into the vortex coaxed into being by the lethal shrieking of our horns.

In a few more minutes, all the lights of the attacking vehicles winked out, their roaring engines silent as death. Except for the rumble of the steamer engine, all was quiet and our vessel sped on through the canyons of the badlands, unimpeded.

It took me a few minutes to come to myself. The few cavalry troopers who had stayed to watch the action let me and my father pass with looks full of fear and respect.

Word of what Hot Lips and I had done passed quickly and we got the same odd looks from the rest of the passengers who had been forced to stay in the lounge due to the killing crush in the stairwell. Even the faces of my band mates wore that same expression of awe and fear.

Dixie put into words to what the rest were feeling.

"What you all did was as spooky as hell. All I can say is, thank the good Lord, you were on our side!"

There was enthusiastic agreement from the rest of the crowd and the unaccustomed offer from the bartender, "In honor of our horn-blowing saviors, drinks are on the house!"

I wanted to leave, but the crowd in the lounge wouldn't let me go until they'd toasted Hot Lips and me. So I had a quick shot of whiskey and then went down to visit Nick. Dr. Reed had been called to help with some of the casualties from the stairwell panic and when I arrived, Ruby asked me if I minded if she went to assist him. I was happy to let her go. Nick was awake and feeling no pain. I lit us both a couple of cigarettes and we smoked for a while.

"I've seen you kill with your horn before, Midvalley, but never anything quite like that," said Nick. His eyes were full of respect but not with the fear that the others had shown, I was relieved to see.

"I was angry," I said.

"I'd hate to see you mad at me, like that."

"I don't think you'll ever have to worry about that, Nick," I said with smile and sealed his mouth with a tender kiss. The soft questing of his tongue in my mouth made my heart flutter and I groaned with pleasure at our closeness and embraced him, pierced through to my soul with my love for him.

I finally broke the kiss reluctantly, but sat beside him until Ruby and Dr. Reed returned, then went to bed. The next morning a little after dawn, we arrived in the city of December.

To be continued