The Forest

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Winds swept across the desert landscape of the planet Dawn, and Tim and Cain rode across on metal horses. The winds swept up the desert sands, creating loop-de-loops of sand columns, picked up speed as the humming of a nearby train grew louder.

Tim and Cain rode up to the tracks, not for physically guiding the train anymore but more as a physical reminder of the train’s routes. They activated their buzzers, sinking back into the dunes and burying themselves and their horses just deep enough to not be seen at a first glance.

“I’ve got sand up my ass,” Cain radioed in.

“Enjoy the cold while you can,” Tim radioed back.

The humming continued closer. A shepherd’s tone of sound waves bouncing all over the sand.

“Now!” Tim shouted into the radio.

Shaking with the force of buzzing their way out of the dunes, the two emerged as the train whizzed by. The elongated chrome tin can, glinting in the light, floated two feet off the ground and sped like gravity pointed to its nose.

The two men kicked their metal horses into gear and sped to match speed with the train. It sped faster than them, but slow enough to give the two a bit of time to execute their plan. On the cue, both men slapped the suction cup looking devices onto the sides of the train, and their metal horses continued bobbing lazily beside the train as it sped along. They climbed onto the top, both squinting in the face of sand blasting across the surface of the tin can.

“Right, which engineer did you do the deal with?” Cain asked.

“Uh, Richard,” Tim said, half concentrating on clinging to the train and half concentrating on the maintenance hatches that dotted each car.

Cain looked over the cars, front to back, and the hatches that seemed to stretch on forever. “And which car was he assigned to?” He looked at Tim, squinting and studying each hatch while dipping for a memory that wasn’t there.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Tim shouted above the whipping sand and the humming train, “You forgot!?”

“I didn’t forget! It’s just that…I can’t see which car. This sand is blasting me in the face and even with my goggles it’s just an uncertain variable. All he said was ‘second car from the back’”

---

The hatch retracted, leaving a crossed patterned black rubber square covering the hatch hole. The two men looked at each other and jumped in one after the other. The two plopped into the car, and rows of seated, forward-facing passengers staring at them. Cain looked around at the passengers next to them who were coated in a fine layer of sand. “Sorry, we missed the train.”

Cain felt a pushing sensation behind them, and he was guided down the aisle into an empty chair.

“What was that?” Tim asked, incredulously.

“I was thinking it might be weird it two random people fell out of the god damned sky, and it would have been weirder to not say anything,” Cain snapped back.

Tim shook his head and busted out the map. It was a physical map of a very long train, impossible to trace. He traced a finger up the map, then further up, then even further up, well past the ‘second car from the back.’ He tapped it on the third car from the front, one that said in big letters ‘PASSENGER CAR 01.’

“There?” Cain asked, not wanting to know the answer.

Tim pointed to the wall above the rows of windows which, much like on the map, read ‘PASSENGER CAR 01.’ Cain placed his hands over his nose and mouth.

“Alright I’m out,” Cain said, standing up.

“What do you mean you’re ‘out?’”

“I mean this job is already a mess. I’m going to find someone here who won’t mind sitting next to someone who falls from the tops of trains and I’m going to Ursa.”

“Wait, Cain. We have the chance to not just make money, but history too. Nobody’s ever stolen from a moving hovertrain on Dawn before. If not for the take, then for the glory.”

Tim thought for a moment, thumb and index finger thoughtfully at chin. He looked back at Tim. “I think I just want the money.”

Tim’s head collapsed forward in frustration. “Fine, I’ll increase your cut to 30%.”

Cain raised an eyebrow.

“It’ll come out of my end. And Alisson heard this too so another party can keep me honest,” he tilted his head into the radio, “Right, Alisson?”

An approving static sounded on the other end. Cain nodded his head. “No.”

Tim was taken aback. Cain continued.

“30% of nothing is still nothing. I’d rather just pretend I don’t know who you are. Seeya.”

Cain stood up and shuffled awkwardly past Tim.

“That would have been more dramatic if I was already---”

He froze, staring ahead at the door. Tim studied his face, puzzled, and pushed himself higher to see over the seats. There they were, clad in their navy blue with red trim uniforms. Their white, buttoned gloves, and conductor caps. There were two of them, and they had laser six shooters on their hips to match Tim and Cains’. They were ticket inspectors. Cain hurriedly shoved Tim aside and sat down in the aisle seat.

“Shit, what do we do?” Cain asked Tim.

“I thought you weren’t a part of this anymore. Go find a pensioner to sit next to and dump sand on.”

“I want back in. I doubt you’ll find an electrician with as dubious morals as me on this train.”

Tim shook his head. “Fine, I’ll take care of the inspectors.” He loosened his laser six-shooter from his holster, but Cain planted his hand on it.

“Woah what are you doing? Are you going to kill them?”

“Can you think of a better option?”

“I can think of a thousand better options! Ones that don’t involve killing two innocent people for doing their jobs.”

AHEM. A voice beside them very obviously cleared its throat. The inspector stood beside them, leaning over the chair. “Transponder ticket please,” he said with the hollow voice of someone who’s said the same thing a million times in the span of a few minutes.

Tim and Cain shot a glance at each other, with Tim’s hand hovering closer to his holster.

“Uh, we forgot,” Cain said

“Forgot what?” the ticket inspector asked.

“We forgot our tickets.”

The inspector raised an eyebrow. He studied the two sand-coated men with incredulity. “How did you get on board if you forgot your tickets?”

“I apologise, of course we have our tickets. I think what my brother meant to say, he’s rather sickly, dying of an illness. That’s why we’re taking the trip to Burkua. We want to see the suns set one last time together. I think what he meant to say was---”

A red-hot light flashed with a bang, and the inspector collapsed backwards. “AAARGH,” he shouted, clutching at the cauterized hole in his foot. Tim looked at the smoking laser six-shooter in Cain’s hand, and the shock on his face. Tim pulled out his own gun.

“That was your plan?” Tim said.

“I didn’t kill him, at least,” he replied.

“You there, aisle 16!” a female voice shouted, “Come out with your hands up. You’ve already assaulted a peacekeeper, don’t

“Ticket inspectors really like to flaunt their technical peacekeeper status,” Tim muttered, scouring around for an exit. Cain was still staring at the groaning peacekeeper on the floor. “Focus, we need to get out of here,” Tim said, bumping Cain.

“I shot him, what do I do?”

“Be glad it wasn’t in the cock. Or the head, I guess. Also maybe helping find me a way out of here would be grand.”

Tim looked a moment longer before setting his eyes on Cain, grinning with the plan.

“I need you to follow my lead. Ready?” Tim asked.

“Ready for what?” Cain said.

“To follow my lead.”

In a flash Tim knocked Cain’s gun out of his hand and shoved him out into the aisle, Tim pressed up behind him and pointing the gun at the ticket inspector.

“Woah now, we don’t want anybody h… Are you taking the suspect hostage, sir?” she asked.

“Yes! We don’t want to see him splattered over these fine people. I mean, all the wounds will be cauterized anyway, but you know what I meant.” Tim backed towards the door.

“What is wrong with you, this isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Cain hissed.

“I’ll get to the door; I feel like that’s good enough.”

“For what?”

“For you to do something.”

“Wait, do wh---”

“Both of you. Stop moving right now,” the woman said, brandishing her six shooter more firmly.

“Just shoot them!” one of the passengers said in a gruff voice.

“Not helping,” Cain said. Tim backed a little further until hitting the door. The window showed it was merely linked to the other car with a small hitch, and that leaving the car would cause them to be entirely in the elements. Cain eyed a panel next to the door, and Tim glanced over. Cain made a few moves to thrash around.

“Unhand me, vile beast!” Cain shouted with a level of conviction he hadn’t shown up to this point, nor inauthenticity. He moved left and right in Tim’s loosened grip and ‘bumped’ hard into the panel, unlocking it. A maze of complex, coloured fuses lay inside.

“You make me blue sir…I would have been able to break your grasp if I pulled left more.”

Tim pulled that fuse out.

“Of course, you are more…uh…green…right OKAY RUN,” he shouted, breaking Tim’s fake grip. He ducked in front of a frightened elderly couple’s row and Tim slammed the fuses around. The woman tensed up to fire but the blast of the door opening, sand flowing in, and the cacophony of passengers screaming and complaining halted her.

Tim and Cain scanned between both options, the woman with the gun and the outside. Tim rushed to the other car as Cain futzed with the panel. Just as the woman was getting her bearings, Cain slotted in the last fuse and slipped out the door, leaving her to impotently bang on the door.

“The whole train’s probably alerted by now, we can go back to the horses and call time,” Cain shouted above the wind and the train.

“No, we keep going,” Tim said, hair whipping around in the wind.

“Respectfully, I think we are utterly fucked. That angry lady’s heading to the intercom and we’re going to have a pack of---”

“Stick to the plan,” the radio buzzed. Tim stared at Cain; Cain stared at Tim. “You two still have time, Cain. Less time, but still time,” the voice said.

“Thanks for the assist, Alisson.”

Cain mulled this over in his head.

“I want 40%.”

“You’ll get minced under this train if you keep asking for higher percentages.”

“Fair enough. But we can’t get into the next car. We’re moving, the only way now to open those doors is to pull open the panel. On the other side.”

Tim thought this over, tapping his chin with the side of the gun. He stuffed it into his holster and took a moment to look at the leap before him before jumping and hauling himself on top of the next car.

“What the hell?” Cain shouted.

“We can still get to the loose panel, right?”

Cain scanned the ground below, spinning back as the train blasted forward. He shook his head and jumped up to the car, getting pulled up by Tim. The two men nodded at each other and started shuffling towards the back of the car.

“Third car from the back,” Tim shouted, “That’s the panel we need.”

Cain traced his eyes down the train, wind whistling through his ears, and grew despondent at how long his eyes were tracing. They kept moving, Cain falling forward, with great difficulty, and doing an awkward crawling/humping motion forward. Embarrassingly, he was just passing Tim.

“What are you doing?” Tim shouted.

“Crawling, and I suggest you do the same.”

“What, why?”

The searing red heat of a laser six-shooter bullet ripped between the two. Tim glanced back and saw the woman, and a door with a bullet hole in it, and a lot of passengers angry and covered in sand.

Tim hit the deck, crawling like he was aiming for gold at the baby olympics.

Scrape, an inch of progress. Scrape, an inch more. Tim’s body was screaming at him, the sand making it feel like he was crawling across sandpaper. After each car was the glorious moment where he got to stop crawling to hop down, occasionally watch the upset ticket inspector impotently stare at them as they hopped to the next carriage.

Eventually, though, the frowns stopped. At one car, past the halfway mark, the inspector was on the phone, and even shot a surprised look at Tim. As Cain clamoured over, the inspector leaned a bit more into the train phone. He looked over to Tim and smiled. Tim stared, more terrified than when he had a gun pointed at his face. He hopped up and continued.

---

“Halfway to the station, you two,” Alisson buzzed, “Whatever you need to do you’d better do it quick.”

“I think we just did,” Tim said to the delight of Cain. They looked down, the hatch on this one was more depressed than the others, sinking ever so slightly into the ground. They looked, nodded at each other, and both men stuck their fingers in the gap and slid it other. All that was left was the black crossed protection for the hatch. Tim looked to Cain who was deep in thought.

“Alright, here we go,” Tim said, brandishing his laser six-shooter and sitting down to slide in, “You ready?”.

“Hang on,” Cain said, putting his hand on Tim’s shoulder, “I’m actually starting to have second thoughts.”

Tim raised an eyebrow.

“Where’s this coming from?”

“The last few cars we’ve passed, every ticket inspector I’ve seen has had an evil look about them.”

“Of course they have, they’re ticket inspectors,” Tim said, sliding further in before being stopped by Cain again.

“But I mean, I think they know something we don’t.”

“Like?”

“Like, I dunno. The cavalry’s on the way, or---”

“Cain,” he said, standing up, “We’re outside of comms range and we researched this inside and out. The plan continues.”

Cain looked warily at Tim, staring for a moment at the sand-encrusted man staring into his eyes. He nodded and, without a moment longer, Tim hopped into the hatchway.

It was dark, and there was a clattering of a million little metal pieces. Cain met him and was engulfed in the same darkness.

“Shit,” Cain said, fumbling with his external monitor. He lit it up, and the gold of a mountain of gold coins stared back at him.

“Wow,” Tim said, fishing his hand through the coins.

“I know,” Cain said, “What an utter waste of good cargo space.”

The two shook their heads. Cain, making large, careful strides so as to not slip, started making his way to the other end of the car. Tim didn’t follow. Instead, he squinted his eyes, mentally measured the distance between him and the end, the angle which sloped downwards, and, after gathering a little speed, he wobbly slid, zooming past Cain and heading for the end of the car, which he hit with a dull thud and a groan.

Tim scanned around the doorway for a panel, and as Cain approached his searching got ever so slightly more frantic.

“What’s going on, speed racer?” Cain asked, lowering himself down to where Tim was looking.

“I can’t find any access point.”

“Hold on let me have a look,” Cain said, before being halted by Tim’s arm.

“Hang on. This is the last car before the security car, and the target cargo behind that. Do you remember the plan?” he asked.

“You wanna know if I know the plan? Quite frankly, if I didn’t by now, we’d be dead.”

Time stared him down and Cain sighed.

“Concentrate all fire on the extinguisher system. Hide until the smoke fills the room and run past. You’re the crack shot here, I’m pretty sure this is more of a you job than a me job.”

“Well, only one of us has shot someone so far,” Tim said. Cain stopped searching the wall to shoot Tim a dirty look before getting back to it.

“What in the hell is this?” Cain asked.

“What do you mean? You’re the door opening guy,” Tim said.

“I can’t open a door without an access panel. Can you open a door without a handle?”

“Depends if I can ram it.”

Cain gestured at the steel behemoth in front of them. “Be my guest; use your head.”

Tim genuinely considered this for a moment before seeing Cain shake his head. Cain turned around to work on finding a panel.

“It’s strange, I can’t quite---”

The door slid open, revealing a gun-toting man clad in black with the physique of a brick wall. “Let me get that for you,” he said,

“Ten minutes to the next town, boys,” Alisson buzzed in, rather inopportunely.

”

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