Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #13 April 2015 | Page 56

units. He felt the gentle 1g push as the shuttle headed
out for its destination. Colfax shut his eyes, next stop
Ceres.
Ceres base had seen better days and those hadn’t been
much at the best of times. The only people who used
it were miners, suits, and the pimps and hookers that
followed the money. Colfax liked the place. He found
a bar and sat down with a bourbon to go over the
information that had followed him there, downloading
onto his system the minute he cleared customs. In the
infpack was a ticket to his next destination, a mining
colony called Little Bronx. A brief message from Bennett told him that a narc had told them that the target
was there. Bennett’s message advised caution; the
target was a manipulator of minds, and there was little
doubt he would have muscle around him. It didn’t
bother Colfax, muscle had a core, and the core would
be the target.
The other information was more of a problem, nanosurgery. The target had bought a large stake in
an outfit Earth-side and it was probable that he had
used them to change his appearance from what even
Bennett’s paymasters thought. Even worse, the surgery could have altered the target’s DNA making the
detector useless. It looked like it would be a hard slog
to find the target. Colfax emptied the glass and waved
the barman over. “Another, thanks.”
“Sure.” The barman put a glass on the table and filled
it. “Where ya headed?”
Colfax thought for a moment about saying he should
mind the bar not someone else’s business, then
thought better of it. Being open might be better cover; a man with a secret would draw attention that he
didn’t need. “Little Bronx.”
The barman shrugged. “I won’t ask why since it’s
mid-shift and there ain’t nothing there to see so you
have to be looking for someone, right?”
“Yep.”
“Personal or business?”

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“I thought you weren’t going to ask,” Colfax said.
“I lied. Besides, I’m a barman, we always ask questions.”
“It’s a favour for my sister. She’s got a message for my
son-of-a-bitch brother-in-law.”
“Personal then.” The barman poured another measure
into Colfax’s glass. “You won’t be the only one after
some asshole up here who’s run out on their wife.
They give mining a bad name. That’s on the house.”
Colfax smiled. “Thanks buddy.” He rose and picked
up his bag. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck mister,” the barman served another customer, Colfax was already forgotten.
The shuttle to Little Bronx was small, a twenty-seater.
Normally full of miners, it only had Colfax and a few
execs. Colfax found a seat in the back and leant back
for the three-hour flight to his target. Colfax hoped the
man was unaware Colfax was coming.
The flight was uneventful. Colfax had two coffees,
three beers, and by the time they came onto final
approach, the numbers of both attendants. Fifteen
minutes later, the shuttle had landed and docked.
Standing in the back of the small group waiting for the
doors to open, Colfax readied his mind for anything
that might come his way. It had served him well so
far and it would again. The doors opened and the five
passengers walked out onto the concourse and stopped
dead. Colfax realised then he had walked into a total,
complete clusterfuck. His target was a manipulator
all right, but not only of minds. He was also a manipulator of DNA. He had changed everyone to look
the same as he did. It was a needle in a haystack like
Colfax had feared, but where the haystack was made
entirely of needles.