The petite, blonde woman definitely appeared the easy target. Many a man in the Yorkshire Run would attest to the beauty of the little bar owner at Plutonium. The woman in a tightly laced corset deceived them to the point of broken fingers, cracked noses, and more than a few bruised egos. They all took their turn trying to seduce, overpower, or entice… and then all took their turn pitching headlong out her swinging front doors.

Each and every one recounted his failures in a pint of less desirable drink far away from the best bar on the Run. Each and every one commiserated with one another as to the justification for why a woman that small, appearing so disarming, could truly overpower one so quickly with her steam powered pistol. And the more daring- or the stupider as the others muttered to one another- tried to call her bluff.

It was never a bluff, as their burns, bones, and bruises attested in display.

Of course she had a pistol just tucked into her skirts but they were so distracted by her eyes they forgot to watch her hands. So excited about where their hands might be they forgot a woman has a brain. And pockets. So caught up in the fantastical future with her they forgot to worry about the present. And they paid for it with their pride.

But that was the game. Except it was no game to her. Never had been, never would be. The frontier was no place for the weak hearted or the ill-equipped and she was neither. One does not own and run the best bar in Plutonium without a healthy dose of both.

That was how The Rock came to be. A woman with the right friends and a mind for business invested well and returned to her friends with interest. That same woman who came to Plutonium slightly older than a child and grew to a woman, who took nothing from no one, and who made her way by suffering no fools. Business wise, she built the foundation on three distinct principles. The iron fist of her always fair work policy for her employees, the sharp eye on those who attempted to swindle her or any on her premises, and the quick laugh that lit everything but the gas-powered lights. The frontier of science and the world forged her but she was made of better material than most from the start. She was an evolutionary advantage.

The day was no different than any other. She woke with the rattle of brass pipes as the generator hissed itself to life. Her clothing, always function over fashion, became her armor. It distracted, deflected, and even defended… there had been a time with a bullet and a now one-eyed man. She pulled her steam-powered repeating rifle from the floor and checked it before leaving the room.

The elevator wheezed a little but a firm fist to the wall always jolted it into place. The doors opened and she lifted her hair off her shoulders, tying it back on her head as the barman ducked into the elevator and retrieved the rifle. She nodded at him and he secured it in place under the bar for easy access before tapping on the top of the dispenser for a slightly sluggish cup of tea.

"Good morning then William?" She adjusted her skirt, making one of her pistols more accessible.

"Been quiet Ms. Smith, just how we like them."

"That's all one can ask for." She blew on the cup and took a sip before scrunching up her face, "One of these days we need to splurge on a machine that actually makes tea."

"It's all gummed up inside."

"Then we make Tom fix it next time he tries to welch on a bill." Ms. Smith dumped the cup into a basin, watching the murky brown wend its way down to the drain. "What's the noise on the wire?"

"They say a Crawley shipment docks today. At least a hundred workers going to and from the asteroids."

"Oh good." Ms. Smith clapped her hands together, "I can't wait to wheel soused souls back onto their transport vessels."

"I've got Alfred and Andy ready for just that ma'am."

Ms. Smith smiled at William, nudging his arm, "One day you'll run this place better than I do. You and that adorable wife of yours."

"Oh no ma'am," He laughed, wiping down the steel surface of the bar, "I couldn't run this place. My gun arm's worse than my poker face. And, if possible, Daisy's is even worse than mine."

"True enough." Ms. Smith adjusted a strap on her shirt before grabbing a leather coat off the coat hooks just behind the bar, "I'm going down to the docks, just to see what they've got for us this morning."

"What'll I do if Mr. Carson comes by? He was saying he's planning an inspection and I've got a feeling he'll pick today and-"

"Treat the Sheriff with his deserved dignity and tell him I'll be back promptly. I've no argument with his inspection. I just want to be present." She fit her arms through the sleeves, "I won't let the Rock go down without a fight."

She left through the swinging door and shivered a bit. Looking up she could see the outline of the planet they orbited. Big, blue, and mined carefully in the poisonous, gaseous conditions, it gave off a blue glow. But humanity colonized its moon with artificial lights, transport stations, and people. Humanity's great resource to the universe: beings.

Walking through the nearly empty street she waved at those who greeted her on her way to the docks. When she reached them, climbing up the platform toward the main office she stopped. A steaming transport vessel unloaded a few crates with shouts and curses but that was normal. That was everyday. What caught her eye was the man who disembarked.

The clunk of a distinctly metal appendage drew her gaze downward and she raised an eyebrow. But the rest of him kept her enthralled. She traced up him to the proud shoulders, the arms holding his bag in ease and familiarity but not lazily. The face weathered by time and experience. And those eyes… the ones that surveyed everything all at once, missing nothing.

He took stock of his surroundings before his eyes settled on her. Ms. Smith had stared down men on wanted posters before but this man, with his metallically ringing leg, held her in place. She pulled the coat tighter about herself as she shivered but this was not the cold from the glow of a gaseous neighbor. This was a shiver she had not felt in a long time.

Doffing his hat he bowed his neck at her, "Good morning."

"Depends on if you term this 'morning'."

"The clocks say it is."

"They do. But without a sun to rise and set we use our gas giant." She looked him over, taking in more details about his leg. "Unfortunately we see that for three-quarters of our rotation so it's not much help. For all we know it could be nighttime and we're just living in the illusion of the daylight."

"All daylight is borrowed and an illusion since all time, in the end, is relative."

"Bit of a philosopher?"

"More than a bit." He extended a hand, "John Bates, poet philosopher."

"The John Bates? The war satirist?" Ms. Smith took his hand, admiring the strength and duration of his grip.

"I was him once. I'm not as much him anymore."

"Anything to do with that?" She pointed to his leg, taking her hand back.

"More than a little." John twisted on the appendage, "I wasn't a fan of it in the beginning but, needs must."

"Yes they must." Ms. Smith folded her arms to keep the jacket closer. "I've got to be honest, it's been some time since I saw a cyborg on Plutonium."

"We're a rare breed but I promise, I won't be here long."

"That'd be a shame."

"And why's that?" John's mouth twitched upward, like he wanted to hide his smile from her but she returned the gesture in full, flirtatious force.

"I've always fancied cyborgs."

"Have you now?"

"Of course. I always thought the idea that there was even more strength and stamina to go around… enticing." She ran her tongue over her teeth, grinning even more when he shuffled in place. "Though, I should specify, only certain things on a cyborg should be mechanical."

"I can assure you, my only cybernetic part is the leg."

Ms. Smith eyed him up and down, "Lucky for me then."

"Or maybe," He crowded her slightly, "Lucky for me."

"I'm a generous person," She trailed a finger down his jacket. "I believe in sharing what's fairly earned so we could both be lucky."

"I like sharing too." John shrugged, "I guess that'd mean I'll have to come and visit you while I'm here."

"Be harder not to." Her fingers clinked off his belt buckle. "For you, anyway."

"Yes, it would be." John stared at her a minute more, "So where would I go to find you, if I were still interested and the interest were returned?"

"The Rock." She stepped back to point up the street, "I run it. Drinks and rooms offered daily, at fair and honest prices of course."

"Of course." He pivoted around, "I wouldn't take you for a swindler."

"Then you don't know much about Plutonium. This place is a bit of a seedy backwater."

"But there's power here."

"How'd you figure?"

"It's in the name." John paused, "You know, I wonder if they realized what they did when they named this place Plutonium."

"What'd they do?"

"They named it after a radioactive element. They told the whole universe that this is the place where explosive, powerful things happen with very small triggers but a concentrated amount of energy. Dedication and drive make most of the amazing elements in the universe." He pointed at her, "Probably not unlike yourself."

"Really?"

"Really." He nodded, "Underestimated, smaller, energetic, dedicated, driven, and powerful."

"Charmer." She snickered at him, "Is that how you get yourself a free drink?"

"Maybe a free room too."

"I'd make you pay for that."

"I'd be more than willing," He winked, "If it gets a man around the galaxy then it's a way to do it."

"Is that all you do? Get around?"

"Haven't found a reason to stay anywhere yet." He looked her up and down and Ms. Smith felt her face heat slightly, "Maybe Plutonium'll change me."

"Maybe it will." She pushed toward the office, "But I get the feeling, Mr. Bates, that you're not quite a man for this world."

"I'm a man for no other Ms.-"

"Smith, Anna Smith." She waved at him, "I do hope you stop by the Rock, I think it'd be my pleasure to have you."

"How'd you like to have me, Ms. Smith?"

"In a number of ways, I'm sure." She opened the door to the office and peeked back out the window for a moment to see him walk away smiling before turning to address the woman in the office.

"Good morning Mrs. Hughes."