The Big Iron: Stardust: Revolver

By T.J. Spicer and G.A. Hawkins

In the far future of Mankind, the birthplace of our species is but a memory. We have spread out to the vast stars, but Earth is lost. The Union is a beacon of what once was the "United States" back on Earth.

Stardust Revolver follows the stories of two men, Sparks Olver and Vasco Remtin. Through dirty saloons and windswept ghost towns, these men will brave the harsh Wild West of their home, Ulmira, to one day change the very Union. 

The world of Ulmira is the product of generations of Texas colonists that evolved into a place dominated by honorable Gunsaints, dangerous criminals, and morally dubious heroes. A world of extreme climate and even more extreme people.

Warning: There is foul language, questionable moral choices, alcohol, tobacco, and graphic violence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.J. Spicer
• Release date: Aug 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201690182

T.J. Spicer

T.J. Spicer currently lives in San Diego, California, with his beautiful wife and daughter. It has been a long time homecoming for him to return to the Golden State after leaving to serve in the United States Army. Tim was a sergeant in C Co., 1st BSTB, 82nd Air Borne division. Don’t get too excited. He was no war hero, just a simple signal sergeant. Today he spends his time writing jabbering tales of fiction and enjoys roleplaying games, all books he can devour, and tabletop miniatures games. A mid all these silly nerdisms, he somehow finds time to work his day job as a test engineer. I hate writing about myself, so maybe someone else would have done a better job.

Book preview

Dedication:

To the space cowboy in us all.

A Cowboy Trades His Spurs for Wings

ACT ONE: The Big Iron

Prologue

IF YOU ARE READING this, I mostly must be dead. I can’t think of why someone would be reading my journals other than I am dead, and they found some way to bust open Bugsy’s databanks. If that is the case and I have traded my spurs for wings, I have only one thing to say. I will see you soon, and I genuinely hope the fail-safe virus you just set off eats all your data, and Bugsy’s shield overload protocol makes one hell of a pretty show. I feel bad for poor Bugsy, she was always a sweetheart, but it is a shame not to give the people one last show to remember me by.

10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1...

<<>>

>>>Data systems corrupted<<<

***Bugsy unit emergency recording system activated***

The last sun is falling low. I am not sure if the coming cold or the gallon of blood soaking into my fancy duds will be what ends me. It doesn’t really matter. I fear several bad men have caused me to spring a few leaks.

I won’t be apologizing or asking for any forgiveness. We both know that was never my style, and I sure, as the Saints know, never deserved your forgiveness.

I wish I could have been there to give you my Big Irons myself and pass along all my stories, but let’s face it, we all knew I was always gonna be leavin’ this world with my boots on... I will be waiting for you beyond the sunsets...

***Bugsy unit emergency recording system deactivated***

>>>Data systems stabilize<<<

<<>>

###Data record lost###

Yeah, I was just kidding. I could never hurt Bugsy, she may just look like a repair bot to you, but she is so much more to me. But the virus was no joke. Have fun rooting that bad girl out of your systems! She is a class ten quantum AI worm. She is prolly the best bit of coding I have ever done. Hope I haven’t given birth to a new AI in your systems!

Sparks's Note

I DECIDED TODAY I WOULD do a bit of waxing poetic for a time. Let me explain. I started writing this journal because of my brother, Vasco. He told me that all my ideas are so tragic that they belong in the dime novels. You know, the ones they sell out of Ulmira City.

Just to be honest with you, he really isn’t my brother. Vasco is my best friend, and his mother did most of my raising up. At least she did the good parts of it.

But, back to the by and by. After Vasco’s last rant, I decided to just put my words down to bytes, but I will have to start at the beginning. Not with the events of today.

A few years back, I meet this fellow from Londinium. He was an actor and writer of a sort. At least that’s what he claimed. I sat there and listened to him go on for at least an hour about the hero’s journey and how a story should be told. I'm not sure I understood all his yammering. Still, after all his talking, the only thing he said that made a lick of sense was that a story should always start at the beginning and end when it is done. I mean, who starts in the middle of the tale? Not sure I needed all his fancy talk to know that.

I didn’t think it was a bad idea at the time to cheat at poker against a man that was obviously cheating himself, and very poorly at that. I paid no notion that the man was known about those parts as a villain, a killer of men, and master of the quick draw.

But that no never minds, such is the life of everyone on Ulmira. Days of dusty heat and frigid cold nights on this bitter rock are just what we know. That isn’t even to speak of the critters and the danger of your fellow man.

Even if it is a great story, I thought better of it and decided to further explain what kind of men we are is the right boot to start off with.

A Beat Down in Farpointe

WHERE IS IT, YOU LITTLE bastard? Percy snarled, driving the toe of his sump rat leather boot into the smallish kid’s gut. The young boy grunted and curled up on the earth.

Tell us where you hid the iron, and I won’t let my baby brother beat on you no more, A barrel-shaped man loomed over the boy. The glare of the three suns high in the sky made it impossible to look him in the face.

Two fast, sharp kicks from the lanky pox-scared younger brother hammered into the boy’s ribs, and he groaned louder. The young boy rolled towards his attacker and pulled his legs up to shield his body from more attacks.

He’s just gonna keep whopping on you till you tell us what you did with the iron. Bertie stepped fully out of the shadows. I know Percy is lovin’ this. He can probably keep it up all damn day if I let him.

Percy’s been walkin’ kinda funny. You checked his ass yet? The young boy dropped his arms away from his face to reply, grinning with wit.

Bertie’s fist slammed down in answer into the boy’s face, whipping his head back into the dirt, splitting the boy’s lower