I was already in a cold sweat, when he blasted me with that ray gun. There was no icy sting—I was just numb.

When I first landed on this planet, it was desolate—maybe a few mining outposts on the other side of the world. I journeyed here to stake my claim, but troopers caught me in the act and decided to make an example out of me.

A bright light flashed and I felt lighter, as if I had become a ghost or a hologram. I tried to look down at myself, but I was stiff, frozen in place. The troopers hardly acknowledged me afterward. I thought I was dead. I’m still not sure.

The mess was cleaned up and the area cleared out and I was left alone on the empty landscape, frozen in time, watching the world unfold around me.

For a while, stargazing consoled me. That quickly lost its luster, however, as did every other natural beauty in sight. And still, I watched.

As a young man, I came to embrace the solitude of unsettled planets, but my time in this suspended-animation-corporeal-hell has made me reconsider.

Years went by and the sun rose and fell and the Milky Way streaked across the sky. Seasons came and went and a small town developed just within my purview. The town was a welcome change, but its time too shall pass. Cycles of change only produce more of the same.

The town expanded until it surrounded me. The man who bought the property I now stand on pointed at me and insisted he should get a better price because of “the remains.” He did.

The man built a bar around me, with my remains nestled in a corner in the back. People came and went, but the bar was generally quiet. Occasionally a fight would break out, but those quickly dissipated as each aggressor realized the other was wearing an energy shield. They would exchange blows and let out their frustrations and neither man would feel a thing.

There was one man who patronized the bar every afternoon. He was quiet; once the barman knew his order, he stopped speaking altogether. The man would walk in, take a seat, and the barman served two beers to start, and another beer every hour afterward.

I took to watching this man day after day. His skin pale, his eyes soulless, I could see his chest rise and fall with every breath, heavy and slow as if he was unsure he wanted to take the next one. I couldn’t help but wonder what brought him here to this dark hole, numbing himself with each sip late into the night. The quiet drunk screamed for relief, but I was the only one that seemed to notice.

One night, just before dawn, a fire burned through the atmosphere and a ship settled down past the horizon. Not too long after, a silhouette appeared in the distance. As the figure grew closer, I could make out a man on a hoverbike powering on across the plains, a cloud of dust in his wake. Before long, he was out of sight again.

It was later that evening, after the quiet drunk was a few drinks in, that the newcomer entered the bar. Standing tall by the doorway, his eyes scanned the room with laser focus.

The drunk saw him from his table and huffed, remaining silent.

“I knew you’d be here,” the newcomer said in a rough voice.

The drunk took another sip. “I knew you’d come,” he replied.

“You owe me money,” the newcomer said.

“I spent it.”

“And seeing as you’re here and not at home, I assume your wife didn’t make it. That is a shame—I was hoping she’d pull through. But the fact still remains… You owe me money.”

“I don’t have it,” the drunk said, taking another sip.

“You can come work for me.”

The drunk jumped up from his seat and shouted across the bar, “I’m not gonna be one of your thugs! I’m no killer.” He was breathing faster now.

With a malicious smile, the newcomer replied, “Unless you can come up with the money, I don’t see any other solution.”

The drunk undid the chain around his wrist and dropped it to the floor. A forcefield glimmered around his body and faded as his energy shield powered down. Without breaking eye contact, the drunk said, “I challenge you to a duel.”

The newcomer scoffed. “Right now?”

“Absolutely right now,” the drunk slurred. “I’m in my prime.”

“Yeah, you look it.” He eyed the drunk. “Weapon of choice?”

“Bare knuckles.”

The barman spoke up. “If there’s gonna be a fight, take it outside.”

The newcomer nodded in agreement and looked back at the drunk. “Outside. Whenever you’re ready,” he said before turning and leaving. A moment later, he appeared outside the window behind the bar.

The drunk pulled a vial filled with yellow liquid from his jacket pocket and drank it. Color returned to his skin and his eyes started to focus. Stone-faced, he cracked his neck and walked outside and around the bar.

I could only see so much through the window. They circled each other for a moment and squared up, before a rough voice said, “Right, let’s get on with it.”

The newcomer took a punch to the face. The drunk took a hit to the gut and stumbled back. They brawled, exchanging blow after blow back and forth. Bloodied eye, bloodied lip, broken nose, broken rib. They went out of sight, but I saw their shadows dance in the late evening sun. Finally, the newcomer came back into sight, falling flat on his back. He lay motionless and the drunk appeared, standing over him with a dripping red rock.

I didn’t have to see it to know what happened. Once again, the drunk’s eyes were soulless. Where he thought there would be relief, there was only more pain. The past hadn’t changed, and he created a miserable and everlasting present for himself. He had become just like me. He had become a killer.

---

For fun, scifi themed coasters, check out my Etsy shop here: https://scifideco.etsy.com

If you enjoyed this story, be sure to share the link with friends and sign up for my newsletter to never miss a new short story: