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The carny's star sharpshooter is tired of targets that don't shoot back, and a robot Doc Holliday is created for a duel to the death...and, as always with the carny, things start to go wrong.
HAVE GUN, MUST TRAVEL—TO THE STARS!
The top act of Thaddeus Flint's interstellar carnival, Billybuck Dancer was the one, the only, the greatest gunslinger in the known universe. But somehow, fame and fortune weren't enough for the dancer. Shooting cards from between the teeth of lovely ladies and outdrawing the "unbeatable" killing machine were just too easy for a man like Billybuck. And even Thaddeus had to agree that the sharpshooter's new idea was good showmanship—suicidal maybe, but good, moneymaking showmanship. So Billybuck's challenge was broadcast throughout the starways: One million credits to the being that could outshoot the Dancer!
And soon, world after world was clamoring to meet and beat—
THE BEST ROOTIN' TOOTIN' SHOOTIN' GUNSLINGER IN THE WHOLE DAMNED GALAXY
HAVE GUN, MUST TRAVEL—TO THE STARS!
The top act of Thaddeus Flint's interstellar carnival, Billybuck Dancer was the one, the only, the greatest gunslinger in the known universe. But somehow, fame and fortune weren't enough for the dancer. Shooting cards from between the teeth of lovely ladies and outdrawing the "unbeatable" killing machine were just too easy for a man like Billybuck. And even Thaddeus had to agree that the sharpshooter's new idea was good showmanship—suicidal maybe, but good, moneymaking showmanship. So Billybuck's challenge was broadcast throughout the starways: One million credits to the being that could outshoot the Dancer!
And soon, world after world was clamoring to meet and beat—
THE BEST ROOTIN' TOOTIN' SHOOTIN' GUNSLINGER IN THE WHOLE DAMNED GALAXY
