---    Sister Shotgun

A fifty kilometer walk across barren wastes in near freezing temperatures was not the worst thing Shannon had ever had to do, but she began to question her decision to do so before she reached the halfway mark.  The Lagotian captain probably thought she was insane when she left the ship, and simply walked off the pad and into the dust storm.  At least this way there would be no vehicle to trace and no trail to find.  What foot prints she left in the dusty surface would be swept away within minutes.

With her face wrapped and covered, she trudged on into the blinding clouds of dust.  A narrow slit in the wrappings allowed her to see the ground directly in front of her, and the map compass on her wrist, but little else.  She knew how far to go and in which direction, provided she did not stumble off a cliff or into a crevasse.  So far, the landscape had been featureless, but she had been unable to see more than a few meters in any direction.

After cresting a small rise, the ground began to slope away rapidly.  The dust suddenly abated and she found herself just inside the rim of an ancient impact crater.  The lip of the crater was well worn and only its near circular shape gave a hint as to what it was.  With its deep bowl offering excellent protection from the raging surface winds, she was now able to see her destination.  Almost half a kilometer ahead, nestled at the bottom of the crater, lay the minestead.  

A makeshift house had been constructed from three large shipping containers, welded together along their lengths, and a door cut into one of the longer faces.  She could also make out other smaller out-buildings, mostly lean-to sheds, as well as a large mining truck half full of ore parked near the house.  A well driven trail vanishing over the far side of the crater was visible behind the house, presumably leading to the mine itself.

Three tall poles, forming a triangle encompassing the house, held small power generating windmills high enough to catch the wind passing over the crater.  The dust polished blades were feathered for minimum interaction, yet still spun rapidly in the high winds.

Shannon began her descent into the crater and was immediately struck by how much quieter it was, once she was below its leading edge.  There was still a dull rumble as clouds of dust raced across the sky overhead, but the most prominent sound now was the staccato whipping of the windmill blades.

The place looked deserted.  None of the exterior lights were on, there was no local network, and no fresh vehicle tracks anywhere.  A heavy layer of dust on the power-loader in a shed told the story of its disuse.  A cairn of carefully stacked stones, in a formation which could only be a grave, lay a few meters away.  A single standing stone placed at one end had no markings to indicate the owner.

'Who buried who?', Shannon wondered to herself solemnly.

"Hello?", she called, as she approached the front door.  Finding the door ajar, she slowly pushed it open and entered.  Feeling along the wall where intuitively a lighting control should be, she found a likely candidate and toggled it.  A set of outdoor lights came on, casting her shadow into the room and onto the far wall.  Reaching a little further she found a second switch which gave her the desired result.

As the interior lights flickered to life, she found herself in a single large room made from the first two containers.  A table with four chairs was placed against the wall immediately in front of her.  A kitchenette and counter along the wall to her left, was covered with dirty pots, pans, dishes, and cooking appliances.  The wall to her right held a small couch and an adjacent bookshelf.  On the wall opposite in the far right corner was a single door, presumably leading to the third container unit, which likely held the sleeping area and toilet.

"Hello?", she called again, surveying the room.  There were signs that the kitchen had been used within the last day, and the cold storage still had a few unspoiled items in it.  The pantry cupboards were nearly empty, save for a few emergency rations, and some long term canned storage items.

Crossing the room, she noticed that the table as well as the floor was clear of dust.  The couch looked like it had been recently sat in, and a book lay open and face down upon it.

Opening the door at the back of the room, Shannon was met with the business end of a large caliber slug thrower.  With the muzzle only centimeters from her face, she slowly raised her hands and began backing up.  As she retreated back the way she had come, the gun and the female mephitine holding it followed.

"We always knew you'd come.  Why couldn't you just leave us alone?  We never wanted anything to do with you", she said, her arm shaking with the weight of the gun.

"Miranda, wait.  I'm not..", Shannon started.

"You Guild bastards drove us to this waste land!  We just wanted to be left alone.. We just wanted to live our lives..", she yelled with tears in her eyes.

Shannon backed up until she bumped into the edge of the table. "Miranda.."

"We just wanted to be left alone!", she screamed again, shaking with rage.

Shannon lunged forward, grabbing the barrel of the gun, pushing it up and away.  Startled, Miranda gripped the gun tighter as it twisted in her hands.  Somewhere in the brief melee, the trigger was pulled.  Shannon only heard the blast for a few milliseconds before it was replaced with a continuous loud ringing sound.  She never heard Miranda's scream, as she released the weapon and fell backwards away from the blast.

When Shannon opened her eyes, she saw Miranda had shuffled backwards and was sitting on the floor in front of the couch on the far wall.  She was rocking in place with her knees pulled up to her chest and hands over her ears.  Shannon's own ears were still ringing, and she couldn't hear Miranda crying, but she could see it in the way her body was shuddering.

Turning the gun about, she removed the magazine and tossed it onto the table.  She then cycled the action, ejecting the spent round from the weapon before placing it on the table.  She then pulled out a chair and sat facing Miranda while she waited for her hands to stop shaking.

After a few minutes the ringing in her head began to diminish, and she could start to hear the woman's rasping sobs.

Shannon stood and turned to the kitchen, then walked to the mess of plates and glasses.  Clearing a path, she managed to find the cook top, and a reasonable pot.  Cleaning it in the sink, she half filled it with water and placed it on a burner.  Once it was lit, she turned her attention to the pile of dishes.  Finding a suitable pair of ceramic cups, she washed them in the sink while the water heated.

Opening a cupboard, she removed a packet of powder from the emergency rations, shook a bit into each cup, then added the boiling water.  Soon the smell of hot cocoa wafted through the room.  Picking up the two cups, Shannon turned and froze.  Miranda was no longer alone.

Between the clanking around in the kitchen and the lingering ringing, she had failed to hear anyone else enter the room.  Miranda was still in her huddled position on the floor, but now a young child, perhaps five years of age, stood between her legs.  The child clung tightly to Miranda, shivering, and staring fearfully at Shannon.  A girl!

Shannon approached slowly, knelt down, and offered the little girl a cup.  Too frightened to move, she only tightened her grip on her mother.  Miranda lifted her eyes to Shannon.  Sharp, accusatory eyes that stabbed daggers into the soul.  Eventually, Miranda lifted a hand, took the offered cup, and pressed it into her daughter's hand where it was immediately joined by her other, absorbing its warmth.  She offered the second cup to Miranda, which she took while never breaking eye contact with Shannon.

Shannon considered trying to find a third cup for herself, but returned to the chair and sat down instead.  "I am not from the Trading Guild", she sighed, suddenly tired.  "I came here looking for Dolan, with hopes that I could get the pair of you out of here, before the Guild found you."

"Dolan is dead", Miranda said flatly, dropping her eyes and sipping the drink.  "Three months ago, working the mine."

Shannon cursed herself for being so slow.  Three months ago she had been wasting time trying to find the most untraceable way of getting to this forsaken planet, rather than just getting here quickly.  If she had hopped the first available flight, or even chartered a flight in, she would have been here in time.  Dolan would still be alive, but someone from the Guild would have been right behind her.  She forced herself to refocus on the now, the 'what ifs' could be argued later.

"I'm sorry", said Shannon softly.

"Why should you care?", came the biting response, "Its not like you knew him."

Shannon leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and bowed her head.  "He was my half brother."

Miranda stared blankly.

"And you are correct, I didn't know him, we never met.  I doubt he ever mentioned me.  My name is not spoken openly within the family."

Miranda's eye softened. "Oh gods, you're Shannon?"   

Shannon felt a small surge of pride for Dolan.  He had talked about her.  Her existence had not been completely eradicated from the family history.

"He spoke of you every time we argued about being out here, on the edge of nowhere.  He would remind me that you were the only member of the family who had escaped it", said Miranda.

"Did he mention how I managed to do it?", asked Shannon.

"Something about an incurable genetic disease", she replied between sips of cocoa.  "Then being saved by some radical treatment, after being officially declared dead."

"If only it had been that easy", replied Shannon.