“You think that someone’s gonna just drop money on ya? Money they can use? Well there ain’t people like that. There’s just people like me.” I heard the man himself say that 60 years ago with my own ears. I know it don’t fit the legend of Jayne Cobb or anything. But I was there, you weren’t. Reckon to learn about what happened back then you have to remember it was a different time. You need to get into folks heads that you never met, and weren’t old enough to know. You also need to know about mud. That’s right, MUD. You see, folks didn’t leave The Earth That Was overnight. Something that big takes planning. They tried their luck on the planet right next door first. Those who went to Mars didn’t do so well, but the rest of us learned from them. For starters, you can’t bring everything with you. Anyone who can afford to build ships that big are doin’ well enough where they are. No, you have to get where your headin’ and make due with what you got. So they built their houses out of what was there: dirt, and water ice. Mud. Allot more things could be made with mud, and it’s the only thing that you can make anywhere. Not much oil on some worlds to make polymers, but plenty of materials to make ceramics can be found in your average comet. And its cheaper than all that hokum refiney whatnot you get after you find some decent crude. I bet you didn’t even know the first ships that left Old Earth for good were swimming in mud, did you? The black isn’t a natural place for a man. Charged particles, cosmic rays, micro meteors. One and all can tear into the tin can you’re sittin’ in and kill you in your sleep. The hulls of the old ships had a few feet of mud between the steel and the heat shields. The mud absorbed the radiation just as good as a planet’s atmosphere. And if the ship was struck by meteorites, the mud would freeze as soon as it was exposed to space making it as tough as the rest of the ship’s hull. “Dirt Rockets” they’re called. You can still find a few here and there, mostly in junkyards. Nowadays ships create their own magnetic field, which is lighter and easier on the hull’s integrity. Problem is the amount of power needed to create a decent magnetic field needs to be insulated. SO, we’re back to mud again. Ceramics can be found on every piece of junk flying in the ‘verse today. Plastic may be as precious as gold, but without clay you’d be stuck on the ground unless you wanted to take the chance in flying around in a lightning rod. You can’t live without it. And how it’s made is essential. Churning the mud before its thrown into the kiln can cause it to store up a tiny bit of a static charge. And just half a nanovolt can throw magnetic poles off while moving at high speeds, or give you the wrong readings before launch getting you good and lost forever. That’s why no electric machines are let in on that part of the job. It has to be done by hand, an insulated grounded human hand with rubber gloves and a wooden ladle. The cheaper you can pay these poor slobs the better. And you’re talkin’ one right now. Eli Fergus: A Mudder born and raised right here on Higgins Moon. My Paw: Wyatt Fergus ran up too much of a debt hitching rides to the independent worlds and that’s after he skipped out on a few bills in alliance territory. So he sat out the war and most of his life slinging mud for Fatman Higgins. He was a drunken sot too, at least that what he told me. I never even saw him take a sip of mudder’s milk or anything else. After he met my Maw: Maryann he said he’s been a changed man. Daddy used to say I look just like her. I’ll take his word for it; haven’t seen her since I was six. I can’t recall what her last name was, to me she was just Maw. My older brother Rufus would know better than me. He was thirteen when she was lucky enough to pay her way off this mudball. We have Jayne Cobb to thank for that. Mudders who start families get their kids working the clay pits as early as they can. That’s where my Brother was, doing the brain dead work of stirring mud. On his lunch hour he would make lil’ sculptures out of the wet mud. One of the temps who was there a while taught him a few things and soon he was coming home with clay horses and whatnot Paw baked in the spare kiln during off hours. They weren’t tzao gao neither, he was doin’ real nice work. Rufus had been slinging mud for two years payin’ off his parents’ debt when the Foreman told him to train a new hire. A new batch of lock-downs and temps came in with the last convoy. Lock-downs is what we call the convicts some Judge in Higgins’ pocket sentenced to work for free. Temps are just folks passin’ through needing some eatin’ money. I never believed him ‘till I saw him myself, but Rufus said he would’ve bet two weeks pay that Jayne was a lock-down. Ornery lookin’ roughneck, half a shiong-mung duh kwong-run, even worked angry. My Brother said he did nothing but complain the whole time in the pits; about how it stunk, the hours. He kept asking Rufus “How do you all put up with it?” Halfway through the first day of his belyachin’ Rufus had enough of him and said, “If the work is so hard maybe you shouldn’t have got yourself caught.” That made Jayne even more angry and said he weren’t a lockdown and he better watch his lip “or I’ll tie it to the back of my, uh. Well I’ll beat you up so bad you can’t give lip to anyone else while I’m around!” Rufus said Jayne kept his bazoo shut after that, just worked angry. But Rufus said they got along OK. Jayne only had one friend there from what my Brother saw. A shorter guy who didn’t look as mean Jayne would talk to him after shift at the milkhouse. As soon as anyone else tried to get in on the conversation the two would clam up. No one even remembers his offish friend, Hitch Stishen or something like that; he kept a low profile. Actually I think his name was Stitch. About the second week of Jayne workin’ there my brother introduced him to me and my family and I got to see him in action. Everyone said my Maw was right pretty woman. Pretty enough to get Paw to stop bein’ full as a tick, work triple shifts and plan for a future. She was also pretty enough to get the unwanted attention from the Fatman’s Prods when they’ve had a few. One of them in particular a big Prod by the name of Doug Ulyss would always be cornering my Maw saying all sorts things when the foreman wasn’t lookin’. We saw Daddy off to work to the graveyard shift and Jayne was outside talkin’ to Maw. He tellin’ her Maryann is a pretty name and all that bein’ a bona fide gentleman compared to what she normally deals with. Probably because her kids were underfoot. That never stopped Doug Ulyss who must have been jealous or somethin’ watchin’ Jayne. He came stomping over with arms out like he had ladles stuck in his armpits, even brought two of his Prod buddies with him. Gets right into Jayne’s face talkin’ real loud tellin’ him to run off. Then ol’ Stitch jumped in out of nowhere and started pullin’ on Jayne’s arm. Problem is he weren’t movin’. You look at the two and you would’ve swore Ulyss had the bulge on Jayne Cobb. Ulyss was bigger with two of his friends at his back, all were sporting those gorram clubs they used to carry before Fes Higgins got rid of ‘em. All the three of them were doin’ was makin’ Jayne angry they interrupted his conversation. That took Ulyss aback so he jabbed Cobb in the chest with his billyclub. That was it. Jayne laid right into that big bully quicker than I’ve seen anyone move. Take a look at the statue in Jaynestown next time you’re in Canton, see him standin’ there lookin’ mean. That’s exactly what he was doing that night after the fuss was over. Big bad Doug Ulyss was at his feet cryin’ over a broken arm and jaw, and Jayne didn’t even take his club away from him. He just stood there glaring down the other two Prods with nothing but his fists. Rufus remembered that vividly, which why the statue looks the way it does. The Prods didn’t want to end up like their big dog so they acted like everything’s shiny and dragged Ulyss off to the hospital. Jayne’s friend looked even more upset than either one of the Prods and pushed him away cussin’ up a storm. Last thing we heard was Jayne tellin’ his friend “I don’t like to be poked.” Next morning they were both gone. Rufus said it was like an ace high holiday in the mudpits that day. A fair lot of Mudders saw Jayne kick up a row with the Prods and were askin’ Rufus about him all morning. The story got around and they all had a good laugh. That was enough for us, Paw wanted to track him down to thank him. But it weren’t over yet. The skies were clear but even I heard the thunder coming from Fatman Higgins’ mansion. I was helping the laundry crew bring in the clothes before the storm got ‘em wet again. The thunder got closer, but no clouds. I could see the explosions in the sky and pointed, one of the laundry girls picked me up and ran inside. Rufus was on other side of town lounging at the pits enjoying lunch. He and the rest thought it was thunder too and got all the Mudders ancy. No one wants to be knee deep in well grounded liquid in a lightning storm. Even me Paw working the kilns was standin’ craning their neck towards the Higgins Mansion. Right then my Brother and Paw get barnstormed by a smoking hovercraft. The only thing louder than the tubines was Jayne’s swearin’. He was flyin’ so low sand got kicked everywhere from the jetwash. “There he is!” Rufus shouted. “Its Jayne Cobb!” Paw got a better view of it from the kilns and he agreed. That big curly wolf busted up the meanest Prod in the pit and to keep out of the hoosegow stole one of Fatman’s transports and was shootin’ his way off of Canton. The Mudders went apey; a hootin’ and hollerin’ cheering him on like it was a horserace. Then the smoke cleared and we saw the moneybags. You know the rest of what happened. I know you heard the song. That day just got shinier and shinier, and everything changed after that. The Mudders all decided real quick what to do to keep one and all from killin’ each other over the money. It was all collected and kept safe, then we’d have a lottery. Those who won the lottery could use a bit of the 60 large to pay off their debt and fly off to a better place. Another thing about that plan, the Mudders voted on it. They’ve been stuck with a bad luck, bad means, but this time the Mudders took something into their own hands. By the time the Prods came down to throw their muscle around to get Fatman Higgins his scratch back they didn’t stand a chance. The whole town had an idea of what to do with that cash and the Prods couldn’t do anything about it. Paw told me about the standoff, he was proud as all when lil’ Rufus asked them if they wanted to end up like Doug Ulyss. The Mudders roared laughing at that and the Prods skulked off with their tails between their legs. Fatman Higgins made some tsway-niou not to press the issue and said we could keep the money. Stuck in his craw real good when the lottery winners paid off their bills and walked away Scott free. In that weird way it made everyone happy seeing those folks leave. There were a great lot of them who could fly off with just a small piece of the treasure; paid next to nothing we were and charged for everything. Rufus said always remember the good things about those times. He says that ‘cuz our Maw was one of the lottery winners. I remember her cryin’ the day she left, that was the last I saw of her. All I know is I never heard from her again. Did she start another family? Torn apart by Reavers? Who knows? Made me even more curious about her, that she wouldn’t write or call or nuthin’. Paw never said what she did to end up in Canton in the first place and never spoke ill of her. Paw always said he was glad for her, said it on his deathbed even. Said I should never blame her for leaving us just to get out of Canton, and never be angry with her. It was said about Mudders it doesn’t’ take much to make us happy. Proly because not much good happens to us. That’s the way of things in Canton, we all got a real town after Jayne tore though, with voting and a council and all that, but I lost a Mom. My Brother made the statue the way he remembered Jayne; but when Fatman got fed up with our shenanigans my Dad got hurt in the riot between Mudders and Prods. Hurt real bad. He was out work for a year before he died. By the time he was fourteen Rufus wanted to be an artist makin’ ceramic sculptures and the like. I know it sounds stupid, but when you’re surrounded by mud that’s how you find your muse. With Paw being bed ridden though, he didn’t have much time for it. Rufus took his place at the kilns and I took my Brother’s place in the mudpits. The two of us had no debts, then again we had no place to go. The lottery money dried up and life pretty much went on for the Mudders with the two Fergus Boys goin’ through the Mill just for grub money. With just my Brother raising me now I got to stay up as late as he does. He wouldn’t let me drink, but I learned a heap more than a boy of ten is supposed to. That’s what everyone at the bar said anyhow. I’d just sit and watch the folks, learned tons of scandalous gossip. I was a real spy back then made a game of it too. Nothin’ much was happening that night, there was big order for some petavolt circuit breakers that needed triple shifts. Most of the town was in bed already except for the few who can’t get to sleep unless they bend an elbow for an hour at the saloon. It made newcomers real conspicuous if you know what to look for. That’s when I saw Him. Jayne came back! This time he had a whole crew with him. He was being real shy ordering his posse around in a way no one was supposed to notice. Looked like he was upset about somethin’, probably expected things to be a lot better for us I thought. I just kept starring at him frozen, then he caught my eye. He gave me that killin’ look Rufus told me about. “Shake your head boy, yer eyes are stuck.” I couldn’t believe he was talkin’ to me. One last “Git!” got me running outside before I knew what I was doing. Terry Selman was Councilman at the time and I ran and told him. That odd stick was like a big kid anyhow and he just ran around being as loud as he can bringing who crowd up to the milkhouse. Jayne came runnin’ out to a cheering crowd, then went runnin’ back into the saloon without takin’ the time to hide his face. My Brother spotted him right off. From what I heard they partied all night, just minutes ago the town was dog tired, Jayne comes back and it’s New Years Eve. Here’s where things break off from what you’d expect from all those stories. Next day the town took the whole day off to celebrate the return of Jayne Cobb. The Prods and Higgins just sucked it up and let it happen. Jayne was smiling for the first time since my Maw was around. He gave a fine speech and all that is until his old friend showed up. He weren’t part of the legend or any song. Ol’ Stitch was just a temp who worked for a while in the pits and disappeared the same day and Jayne. There he was tellin’ the whole town he and Jayne went to Canton for a score. Jayne weren’t a hero. He was just throwing things out the window so we wouldn’t crash. Including Stitch hisself. Jayne was there with that killin’ look on his face letting his old friend go on. No one had a choice, Stitch was packin’. And when he took a shot at him, my yun bun duh Brother jumped in to protect Jayne. Took a round of buckshot right in the chest. If all that stuff about Jayne were true, and I’m sure it is, don’t change the fact he’s the best fighter I’ve ever seen. My Kin was just some Mudder to Jayne; I bet he didn’t even know he was the blue-eyed kid who trained him 4 years back. Didn’t know he wanted to be an artist, or built that statue Jayne torn down in a fit o’ rage. But seein’ a young man die to save him made Jayne Cobb take a knife to a gunman. It didn’t stop there neither. Those two went at it savage as meat axes ‘till Jayne Cobb beat his old friend to death with his bare hands. He stood there panting and bloody standin’ over two bodies he had a hand in one way or the other. He told us all what I told you in the start o’ this here tear squeezer. Back then all I saw was my hero avenging the death of my Brother. I knew what I wanted to do. I was gonna take that knife out ugly ol’ Stitch Hishen, hand it to Jayne and say: “Sir, my name’s Eli Fergus. You got my Mother out of Canton, and you killed the man who killed my Brother, Rufus, who’s been raising me for the past two years. I got nothin’ left here and would like to join your gang.” But the words wouldn’t come out. I was too gorram scared! Jayne snatched that knife away from me like I stole it and stomped off through the Prods like they weren’t even there. How he got off-world is your guess as good as mine. I know he made it ‘cuz if he didn’t Fatman Higgins would have been crowing about takin’ down Jayne Cobb louder than a fission kiln. Yeah, I heard about the same adventures as you did about Jayne. They’re whole books full o’ folk stories that’ve been sproutin’ up since he went through Higgins Moon. My personal favorite is him stealin’ a Reaver ship to bait a whole murder of Reavers into dry gultchin’ an Alliance fleet, all to tell the Verse about Miranda’s Foley. I don’t believe any of those yarns. I think Jayne Cobb was a bad man, especially by today’s standards. Which you got allot of in that bucket of blood of outer worlds those days. But bad men can do good things sometimes they’re the only ones who can.