 
Depot-14: The Americium Shipment

Copyright 2017 by J.J. Mainor

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Author's Notes

Also by J.J. Mainor

Chapter 1

Jakarta opened one eye and glanced over to the clock on her nightstand. At twenty past the hour, she considered pressing the snooze button for a third time. It had been a late night before she went down to bed, and as she rationalized, surely another ten minutes wouldn't hurt.

"Don't even think about it."

She didn't bother to look over to her buddy, Colton, standing in the doorway. If she had, she would have seen a man already prepared and dressed for the morning ahead, a depressing thought for one still in her nightclothes.

"I thought the point of ownin' a franchise was so we could set our own hours and work when we wanted," she answered in an almost begging tone.

"The point of the franchise was to make money," he reminded her. "We don't do that if we're sleepin'."

Her response to that was to take up her pillow and hurl it in his direction. Colton offered nothing but a smile as he stepped out of its way. Rather than return fire, he disappeared off to wherever he was off to, making her get out of bed if she wanted her pillow back.

Jakarta considered hitting the snooze button after all and suffering through the next ten minutes without it, but she knew her friend was right. There was always work to do around the small station, and only some of it could be put off – and only for some time.

After a quick shower, she stood in front of her mirror, studying her face to determine how much makeup to apply that morning. The current fashion pushed for as natural a look as one could manage which suited her just fine. Her life in space meant she kept her hair cut closer to the scalp than most women wore. It took a lot of that false color to give her the feminine appearance most pulled off with just their locks.

In fact, Jakarta had the look of a grease monkey, minus the grease and grime. On first look, she appeared as one more comfortable with a wrench than a brush. The jumpsuits she and Colton wore seemed more comfortable on her body than the frilliest dress she might find on the planet Durango a hundred kilometers beneath her feet.

The whole thing suited her just fine. The less maintenance needed on her looks meant more time for the maintenance of their little station.

She and Colton were the owners and operators of Depot-14, one of twenty-two such supply points in orbit around this world, and one of hundreds in orbit around the various worlds in this sector of space.

The concept was simple: dozens of single-served stations were far more feasible and affordable than a single, massive station large enough to handle the needs of all traffic coming and going within a system.

To bring the costs down further, the company overseeing ninety-five percent of all the supply depots decided to sell the individual stations as franchises. People like Jakarta and Colton would buy a franchise and fund the costs of construction themselves. The company handled the logistics of supplying the stations, and the owners were guaranteed a portion of the traffic in a way that was equitable for all parties.

That wasn't to say there weren't transport captains who had their favorite station, or those they trusted above others, stations they would limit their business with even if it meant waiting unnecessarily for their turn. Jakarta and Colton had a few such captains in their pocket, one of which was scheduled to stop late the next morning. But that was a day away, and the pair had that day's business to handle first.

Colton was already set up in the kitchen preparing their breakfast. His brown Stetson marked where he intended to sit when finished. Though he had eggs frying on the stove and toast browning in the oven, it was the grease of the bacon which scented the entire level.

"You know," Jakarta taunted him as she took the seat across from his hat, "we wouldn't burn through the supplies so fast if you didn't insist on cookin' everything at once."

The man scooped the eggs into a bowl and turned to set it on the counter beside the stack of toast. Jakarta herself was a tall one, gender aside, but so was her partner. Each deck had a two-meter clearance, floor to ceiling, and he filled almost every centimeter of it. Had it not been for a certain stockiness, his limbs would have looked gangly and ridiculous on his frame.

Certainly it was the fact he had the appetite of two men, as she had that of two women, which led them to burn through their food so quickly. On more than one occasion, she joked they wouldn't eat so much if they didn't work so hard, but like all jokes, it had already been made enough to render it stale.

"Don't sugarcoat it," he told her with his big cheesy smile, "it's just your way of sayin' you don't like my cookin'."

"Are you kiddin' me? I couldn't love your cookin' any more. It's the only thing that makes mine seem not so bad."

When he brought the food over and they started to dig in, the jokes fell away and all thoughts turned to business.

"Only item on the schedule," Colton began, "is the mornin' commuter shuttle. Since the next passenger liner isn't due to head out from here 'till thirteen hundred hours tomorrow, I don't expect we'll see anyone get off."

"That leaves us all day for the chores," Jakarta noted. "Did you already get today's report?"

"Yeah, it's the usual stuff: filters on three decks need scrubbing, a gasket on the solar panel array needs to be replaced. All that can wait though. We got a list of things to get done before that courier ship arrives tomorrow."

"What do we got to do for them?" Jakarta complained.

"You know the security seals on the lower four decks we've been puttin' off? They need to be fixed so we can lockdown the station while that ship's here."

Jakarta was visibly upset at the thought of the task, but the problem with putting off work is that eventually it has to get done. Both of them knew full well had they repaired the seals when the computer first reported the problems, they would not have to fix all of them before the day was out.

Fortunately for their procrastination, there was the matter of a commuter shuttle before any work could begin.

The commuter shuttle was one certainty in their business. Every morning it brought outbound passengers up from the planet to the stations in orbit. Since the flights out of the system were scheduled to the specific stations, those outbound passengers knew which station to get off at.

Jakarta and Colton had guest quarters on the fourth deck in case a passenger needed a place to lay their head while they waited. If they didn't want the room, they had the use of the gym on the fifth level, the general recreational area on the sixth level, and the mess on the seventh and last deck before the cargo sections. Station systems occupied the third deck and served as the dividing point between the private and public spaces.

As they discussed, there were no outbound ships for well over twenty-four hours so they didn't expect any guests, not when they could take tomorrow's shuttle and spend the day in a more comfortable setting. So it came as some surprise when they greeted the local ship at their main docking port and a man stepped off.

"Name's Quentin Sedgewick," he told them with a friendly lilt in his voice. "I'm the regional supervisor for Drayton Atomics." He appeared short across from the taller Colton, though he was no shorter than average. It didn't help the appearance that the man was rather portly. Such extra weight always seems to subtract a few centimeters in the mind's eye.

Colton wasn't concerned with his height or his weight. It was the man's job title that drove him to stand up nearly at attention. Drayton Atomics was the company whose shipment was due to pass through the following day. It was the shipment whose arrival he wished to make special preparations for and it struck him as odd, odd in a nervous way that they had sent a representative up to see them a full day before the shipment was due.

"I'm Colton Wells, and this is my partner Jakarta Jones," he told their guest. "What can we do for you, Mr. Sedgewick?"

He offered them a smile as if to assure them, but when he opened his mouth to elaborate, a commotion rose from the ship.

"For the millionth time," a woman screamed as she climbed the ladder and poked her head through the open hatchway, "I don't want to hear your excuses!"

She was young and pretty like Jakarta except her hair was longer, black and silky. Despite the mess her beet-red face made of her makeup, the scent of jasmine lifted from those strands and softened the image everyone had of this strange creature – at least the image from the two men.

"And I told you," a man's voice shouted back as she stood on the deck, "I'm not selling any excuses."

He followed her up and stood at the edge of the hatchway. He too was a young, square-jawed buck, though the desperate humility wrapped around his shoulders weakened any first impressions he might have wanted to give off.

"What's goin' on here?" Colton asked of their newest guests.

The woman spun to meet her inquisitor. For only the briefest of moments, her eyes froze on the mountain of a man standing before her with the strong chest and the broad shoulders, but only for the briefest of moments, short enough really to shatter Colton's self-confidence if he found flattery in such admiration.

"My ex-husband can't get it through his thick head that our marriage is over!"

"I'm not your ex just yet," the man complained. "If you'd just let me say my peace, maybe I can earn your forgiveness."

"Forgiveness! I catch you in bed with my brother's wife, and you think I'll forgive you?"

"Ouch," Jakarta blurted out.

Before they could even get to the bottom of this disturbance, the shuttle's pilot peeked up with a none-too-subtle smirk across his face for the two station owners.

"The raucous they've been causin', I sure don't envy you two!"

Wait! Mac!" Colton shouted, hoping what he thought was happening wasn't true. "You're not dumpin' them here!"

"This is where they belong. The woman bought a ticket on tomorrow's flight to Certis. When the husband found out, he bought a ticket and followed her. If they want to spend the extra day in orbit, I can't argue."

Before Colton could object further, the pilot retreated to his ship and sealed the hatch. The docking collar retreated from the small commuter shuttle, and in a moment, the ship left them. This damaged couple was all theirs and Colton didn't look happy about it.

Jakarta smiled and gave him a friendly pat across the back of his shoulder. "This is why I always say don't get married. It's just not worth the trouble."

Chapter 2

It took some effort, but Jakarta and Colton convinced the young "couple" to retire to separate cabins. Despite there being nothing but a slim wall between the two, the young woman was more at ease once she didn't have to look at her husband.

By all accounts, Jakarta had an easier time. Sandra, as she was known, wanted nothing more than to get away from her cheating ex. She wanted him thrown off the station, but where that was no longer possible, she was happy to lock herself in that small room where he couldn't get to her.

The young man, Mitchell, was an armload for Colton. He was stubborn and refused to listen to a word Colton had to say. At one point, the taller man had to place his hands on Mitchell's shoulders and force him to remain seated on the bunk because all he wanted to do was run over and bother his wife.

"It won't do either of you any good to run over while you're both in such a state," Colton tried to reason with him.

"It's none of your business," Mitchell snapped. "She's my wife, and I aim to talk with her before it's too late."

"Looks to me like it's already too late, but if you think there really is a shot to reconcile, you'll blow it by not givin' her some time to cool down. The harder you push her, the further she's gonna run."

"She can't run much further than Certis," Mitchell pointed out.

"No, but she can make it so you don't get any chance to make your case. I just think you need to give her the day to cool off. Maybe by breakfast tomorrow, she'd be willin' to at least hear what you gotta say."

"You think so?"

"I'd be lyin' if I said I understood women, but I do know enough to know you can't reason with them at the height of emotion."

He chewed over the words for a bit, and Colton backed off when he felt the man's muscles relax beneath his hands. The whole proposition seemed agreeable, and though Colton didn't entirely trust his guest, he had another, more important guest that needed attention.

Jakarta was already in the alcove waiting for him when he stepped from the cabin.

"How'd it go with Sandra?" he asked his partner.

"Better than it did with you from the sounds of it. Why don't you go down and see Mr. Sedgewick," she suggested. "I can stay here and make sure these two stay in their corners."

"Seems to me," Colton joked, "you're just itchin' to get out of this meeting."

"Not at all, buddy! I figure if there's a problem up here, Sandra is more likely to talk to me than you."

"And if Mitchell gives you a problem?"

"I'll just coldcock him."

Colton laughed at the thought, for if Mitchell's sexual misconduct was some sort of test of his masculinity, then that masculinity would flee completely the moment he got knocked out by a girl.

He climbed downward, hand over hand, foot over foot, with all the comfort and practice of one who spent a lifetime handling those ladders. To him, the steel rungs were like old friends. They fit in his hands as snuggly as if they were the palms of his gloves. It was a long way to climb in those times when he had to move from the control room at the top to the docking collar at the very bottom, or vice versa, but he would not trade the exhilaration for the comfort of a lift if the depot company showed up and forced one on him.

This trip did not carry him the full distance of the station, for Quentin Sedgewick was left in the rec area. This deck was one open room filled with computer terminals loaded with all kinds of games and, for those looking for more cerebral pursuits, books. There was a chess set and a couple decks of cards lying about in case someone wanted a more tactile game. But for all the fun this deck had to offer its guest, Mr. Sedgewick chose to remove his own computer from his briefcase and conduct business.

He looked up from that work and set it all aside when he realized Colton had joined him once more.

"I'm sorry about that," the younger man offered him, but the businessman just waved it off.

"We didn't pay for exclusivity, Mr. Wells, just the security."

Colton smiled at the reference. Though he wasn't one to brag, Sedgewick had hit upon one of the most important aspects about Supply Depot-14

"Security is what we're all about. I'm sure you know we haven't had one robbery in the Durango year since Miss Jones and I bought this franchise. Before that ship ever docks, we make sure the security seals are in place. Should that couple upstairs be runnin' some kind of scam to get aboard, they'll find they won't be able to reach the cargo area or that ship.

"As you may already know, three out of every four stolen shipments are lost because of carelessness – stationmasters who ran through the procedures so many times, they no longer feel the need to verify the procedures. Criminals know that. It is that carelessness they seek to exploit."

"I'm sure I don't have to point out," Sedgewick interrupted, "that one in ten cases involves a stationmaster bought and paid for by that criminal element. Just ten days ago, the owner of Depot-3 was arrested for facilitating the theft of a shipment passing through her station."

Colton sat up a little straighter, finding much offense in the suggestion.

"Now wait a minute! You're not implyin' Jakarta and I would sell out our clients for a quick credit?"

"Nothing of the sort. I am sorry if I offended you, but it was worth noting that despite the limitations in robbing one of these stations, there remain several means to do so."

Colton sat back and relaxed. "I see what you're gettin' at. You just want to make sure we're not ignorin' possibilities."

"Quite right, and yet if you were in such a habit, Mr. Wells, your track record would have already fallen."

Colton smiled at the compliment and they carried on. Despite the fact that the security seals needed maintenance, he was confident everything would be ready when that ship arrived late the following morning.

He left the representative to his work so that he could retrieve his partner and get that work done before time proved him to be every bit the careless fool.

"How're they doin'?" he asked of their guests hoping their problems wouldn't keep Jakarta away from the work.

"It's been quiet for a little while now. I think whatever you told him must have worked because he hasn't so much as peeked out that door."

"Good," Colton said offering a weak smile. "Then you can help me take care of this maintenance."

"Wait a minute. What if he's been waitin' for me to leave to start his trouble? Maybe I should stay here just in case."

Colton had to laugh at her sly attempt to get out of the work. "They're both adults. If they're so determined to stir up trouble, they'll find a way."

Jakarta wasn't getting out of the work, but she couldn't be blamed for trying. In the end, she followed her partner down the ladder in hopes of getting it over with quickly.

"What's so valuable about this americium?" she asked him. It wasn't like the element was well known in the universe, so even Colton knew only what Mr. Sedgewick told him.

Americium was an artificial construct. It did not exist in nature, yet if they searched, the two friends could find it in everything from their fire detection system to their atmospheric processors. Problem was, though it had such widespread uses, the ultimate quantities used throughout the sector were small in the grand scheme of things. Atomics companies had to remove a particle accelerator from other production for a full day just to produce a few kilograms of the metal.

Because most companies weren't willing to shift their entire production for such small quantities, the element was tougher to acquire than it might otherwise have been. That tightened supply drove the price up, but not enough for some companies to reconsider. In fact, over time, those companies that tried to meet the demand eventually succumbed to the pressures of their boards and shareholders, killing production to focus solely on the more profitable elements. That in turn cut the supply further and drove prices up.

It was a strange cycle to see such a material grow less profitable the higher its value climbed, but such was the bizarre nature of americium. The problem Colton and Jakarta had (more so for Sedgewick and his company) was that the value of the metal made it a perfect target for thieves. Like gold and silver in ancient times, a small quantity of americium held tremendous value, making it easy to transport and easy to hide. Like so many other physical items thieves in this sector liked to target, a sufficient degree of separation could be created between the rightful owner and the new owner so that the local constabulary could not identify it as stolen. The moment it left that transport ship, all hope of recovery would be lost.

Jakarta still didn't see what was so important about it, but then they weren't paid to judge. All she had to do was resupply the ship when it docked and ensure no one made a play for the cargo.

No sooner had she reached the mess level than a subtle beeping filled the air, announcing an incoming transmission. The stations had proper command centers on the first deck for general operation, however the station owners rarely found themselves with the kind of time to just sit around up there waiting for the external business to come to them (at least these two rarely had the time; they supposed they couldn't speak for every franchisee).

A subtle tone went out over the station's intercom system to alert the stationmasters of a ship requesting docking clearance or of one assigned by the central office. Jakarta found the nearest terminal and entered her security code so that it could access the central systems and serve as her communication station. Indeed it was a ship requesting emergency assistance.

"Fire aboard. Oxygen depleted. Need to dock immediately."

Jakarta hesitated to answer. She knew this was a classic ruse for criminals in order to get aboard, and they didn't have the reputation they did by falling for such obvious ploys.

However, Colton was also on the line, and he knew full well they could not reject the request on mere suspicion. He was quicker to respond, knowing they had to verify the emergency before dismissing the ship.

"Unidentified ship," his voice broadcast through Jakarta's terminal, "I need your identification number and your registration details."

The young woman waited anxiously for the return message, curious if they would be so free with the expected identifiers or attempt to get aboard without providing the necessary documentation.

"Depot-14," the unknown voice returned, "please help us. My crew has already fallen. I'm about to pass out. I have no time to reach another station."

Jakarta immediately cut off her own outbound channel so that she could communicate exclusively with her partner.

"It's a trick," she told him. "No way this is a coincidence with that shipment arrivin' tomorrow."

"Don't I know it," he replied, "but you know as well as I do what it means for our license if we turn them away and we're wrong."

For all the arguing, neither was right, yet both were right. The scenario was too convenient to be coincidence, and it didn't require one atom of oxygen to push a button and transmit the proper identification. However their business required certainty. They could not refuse a client based on suspicion and hearsay. The only solution was caution, and at that moment, both friends wished they had completed the maintenance on the security seals when it came up instead of pushing it off.

They made their way to the docking port at the bottom of the station, at the bottom of the massive cargo hold. Jakarta stood ready with her rifle in case this turned out to be a trap, while Colton stood at the edge of the hatch. Once the tiny display at his foot registered a tight seal between the ship and the station, he knelt down and opened his hatch.

As the door came open and the vacuum trapped within flooded and dissipated, he drew in a deep breath through his nose searching for that smell. Space had a smell like burning metal and sometimes it gets trapped in the docking collar when a ship docks. Superstition considered it to be good luck when you found that smell, but this time, Colton smelled nothing. There was no burning metal, only the familiar scent of the sterile atmosphere around him.

The ship's hatch opened. He expected a wave of smoke to come flooding out if they indeed had a fire. It wouldn't be a problem for the station since their environmental system was strong enough to draw out any smoke and filter it out before it could supplant the oxygen.

But there was no smoke, nor any passengers. The space within was dark. Colton peered in hoping to adjust his eyes when a canister flew upward and past his head, falling to and bouncing on the floor behind him. Before either of them could react, it burst open and the chemical within knocked them both out.

Chapter 3

Jakarta opened her eyes and took in her surroundings from the floor in the mess hall. Mitchell, Sandra, and her Mr. Sedgewick were all sitting around a nearby table, while Colton sat up just next to her, already awake but still shaking off the fogginess of that chemical agent. Whoever was on the ship, it must have been quite a feat lifting both her and her friend the twenty or so meters up that ladder to bring them both here.

She looked around and found the three men standing across the way by that very ladder. Their leader was a man they called D.K. He was a little older than the other two and somewhat more self-assured.

The youngest they called Nat. He was still a boy really, with a hint in how he carried himself that he still struggled to form his own ides of right and wrong. His buddies had already rationalized this raid as right by their own logic, but there remained doubt lurking behind his eyes. Jakarta realized he might be the weak link in this gang.

The third man was certainly no weak link. Dubbed Slade, the man had a wild streak to him. He paced about impatiently, and when he realized the woman was awake, he marched over to stare her down as if he were itching to pick a fight. Mitchell and Quentin must not have given him any satisfaction, and even with the gun in his hand, he was no match for Colton. But Jakarta was just his size, and she had the same wild streak within her, even if the stabile life Depot-14 offered had tamed that streak. Somehow, Slade sensed he might tease it out of her and satisfy his own lust.

Jakarta wanted nothing better than to wipe that smug look off his face. If they hadn't killed her and Colton already – since they went to all this trouble to carry them upward – it was unlikely they would do her in for one punch. Had she not still been weak from her slumber, she just might have.

"Leave 'em alone," D.K. ordered.

"But she wants to try and take us," Slade sneered. "I can see it in her eyes."

D.K. marched over and nudged his partner back to his feet. "She won't try anything if you don't give her the chance. But you make one foolish mistake and you'll get someone killed – likely yourself!"

"What is all this about?" Colton demanded.

D.K. pushed the younger man back toward Nat before turning to his hostage.

"You ask a lot of questions," D.K. sneered to him.

"I only asked one," Colton challenged him. "This is my station and I have a right to know what you intend to do."

D.K. smiled at the insolence. "What I intend to do? I intend to get my hands on the americium you have passin' through here tomorrow."

"That's crazy."

Colton expected Mr. Sedgewick to have spoken up in protest, but he noticed for the first time that the businessman's arm was in a sling. Apparently it was the cost of speaking up against these thugs. Still, Colton remained undeterred and he continued.

"Since you seem to have your own ship, you could have cleaned out my cargo and been on your way instead of keepin' your necks in a noose by hangin' around for a day. All that stuff has to be worth as much if not more than the metal you're after."

"You don't need to lie to me," D.K. challenged. "I know full well that americium is worth a quarter million credits. All the cargo in your hold doesn't add up and I can't sell it as quickly as I can that metal."

Colton was surprised. He honestly had no idea the shipment was that valuable, and he almost cursed Drayton Atomics and their representative for withholding that tidbit. Still, it was all moot at this point when they had those guns pointed at them. The only thing that mattered was finding a way to stop this robbery, and doing so in a way that kept the hostages alive.

"So what's the plan?" Colton asked him. "For that much money, there's gonna be armed security on that ship. They won't just hand over the americium, and they won't give it up without a fight."

"Oh but they will hand it over to a regional supervisor," D.K. beamed, turning toward Sedgewick. "He'll meet that ship tomorrow and give them a story about how the company changed plans, that they want their executive here to transport the product because they fear the cargo hauler is too big a target for guys like me."

He gave his prisoners a massive smile as if his was the greatest plan ever conceived. Then to cut off further questions, he posed one of his own.

"Now, who wants to help me up in the control room?"

"Me," Jakarta shouted.

"I'll do it," Colton told him simultaneously.

D.K. looked back and forth across their faces as if sizing the two up, judging which he trusted more with the other hostages, or perhaps which he trusted more to be alone with. In the end, his eyes fell back on Colton and a grin announced his choice.

"You'll do."

Colton rose to his feet, and at his captor's insistence, preceded him up the ladder and away.

With the boss gone, Slade's dominance reasserted itself. He sauntered back across the mess toward the captives. Sandra looked to him with more fear than she had so far displayed. Mitchell tried to wrap his arm around her shoulders to comfort her, but she jerked away as if her ex was one of them.

"What's the matter?" Slade asked her, taunting the frightened woman. "This fellow givin' you trouble?"

He placed his face so close to hers, the stench from his breath reviled her sensitive nose. She tried to pull away from him as she did her ex, but his gaze kept her frozen in place.

"You're not sayin' anything," he said when the silence from her became too much. "Cat got your tongue? Or maybe this guy over here isn't man enough for you. Maybe you need a real man to loosen that tongue of yours."

"Enough! Leave her alone!"

Slade cocked his head in response to this new defiance, but kept his gaze on the frightened young woman. It was only after a full minute passed that he turned lazily to meet the one so bold. He knew the voice couldn't belong to Mitchell as only Jakarta had the fire within her to stand up with all those guns in her face. He found that fire boiling from her eyes, and took delight in riling her up so soon into this endeavor.

"Are you gonna stop me?" he asked her, delighted with the growing tension.

Jakarta stole a glance at Nat to judge the situation. The boy had his eyes averted toward the ground as if he didn't want to witness the mayhem Slade had in mind. She judged her odds against these two, and they looked good, very good.

"If I have to," Jakarta boomed as if the tables were already turned.

"I could shoot you dead in a heartbeat, and that doesn't frighten you?" Slade brought his rifle up and pointed it straight into Jakarta's chest as if he intended to fire, yet the young woman held her ground, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of watching her beg for her life.

"Let's just say I know your type. You're all talk with that gun. You think you're a big man because you have all the power, but without that weapon, you're a nobody. You're a spineless jellyfish. I've seen bigger men usin' liquid courage as a crutch than the one I see before me right now."

Slade sneered at her, then pulled the gun away. As if to prove her wrong, he placed the rifle on the table at the center of the room and returned to her with nothing but his bare fists.

"Care to say that again?" he said, sneering at her once more.

Jakarta stole another glance toward Nat. The boy had turned his back on the whole scene, as if merely shifting his gaze hadn't been enough to erase the guilt from his eyes. She figured her odds once more and they indicated a sure thing. Her words would not answer Slade's question. Instead, her fist came up and gave reply with an uppercut to his jaw.

The man fell sideways and landed on the floor. There was a fair bit of surprise across his face that this woman was actually able to knock him off his feet. Instead of angering him, it pleased him greatly. Slade had the fight he wanted, and he looked forward to knocking this woman's clock off her shelf.

He jumped to his feet as quickly as he could. Mitchell and Quentin both had such hopes that Jakarta had turned the tables, that she had just secured their release and stopped this robbery before it ever had a chance to take off. That was until another voice joined the fray.

"Hold...hold it right there."

Jakarta and the others looked across and found Nat with what little courage flowed in his veins. His rifle was up and aimed at Jakarta, warning her not to continue the fight. Somehow, Jakarta knew he wouldn't fire though. The boy probably never considered killing another human being before. If they had talked about it during planning, it was probably nothing more than an abstract idea to him. He could stand there pretending to be his partner's defender, but if he had to make the decision to fire, he would hesitate and that would give Jakarta the moment she needed to take his gun away.

But in sizing the boy up this one more time, she had hesitated in her confrontation with Slade. While she was caught off-guard, he answered her fist with his. A blow across the side of her face blurred her vision and brought on stars as she tumbled to the floor.

Slade dropped the floor over her to continue the fight, but Nat was just as determined to stop him as he was Jakarta.

"L...leave her alone."

"L...l...l...leave her alone," Slade mimicked. "What's the matter, Nat? You got feelin's for this one? Are you crushin' on her or somethin'?"

"N...no, it's just that D.K. told us not to hurt anybody."

"Unless they tried somethin'," Slade added. "And this one tried somethin'."

"She's down," Nat pointed out. "She's no threat anymore."

Slade rose, grabbing his rifle as he moved across to face Nat. His temper was fleeting and in that moment it left Jakarta (much to her relief) and turned toward his young partner.

"No, but she might be later," he snapped. "When that happens, I hope you remember which side you're on."

Chapter 4

The control room was nothing but a series of terminals, each one granting equal access to the station and all its systems, none dominant over the other. D.K. shoved Colton into a station across the circular room, then retreated back to the access ladder, keeping his rifle on the tall man from a safe distance.

For his part, Colton had studied the weapons these people carried, glad they were smart enough to bring pulse weapons with them.

There were two drastically different types of weapons in use. The first was an old-style projectile weapon, using compressed air to fire tiny pins of steel, tungsten, titanium, or any of a dozen other types of metal. They were perfect for tearing a body apart, but they were deadly in space as the compressed air fired the pins with enough pressure to puncture the hull of any station or spacecraft.

The second type, the kind these thugs carried, fired short pulses of energy. Each pulse was hot enough to burn through flesh, but not hot enough to melt most metals. D.K. and his crew could fire all they wanted aboard this station and they would do nothing more than discolor the walls. If he wanted to make a point with the weapon, Colton didn't have to worry about a hull breach.

"I don't understand what you expect me to do?" Colton complained.

"It's easy. I want you to report the successful repair and departure of our shuttle."

With only one port allowing for the service of but one vessel, the supply depot couldn't conduct normal business with the getaway vehicle docked, and that meant they couldn't take in the expected delivery. The plan was always for their pilot to take the small ship away and hide out until the americium was aboard the station. But its arrival was on record, so its departure had to go on record as well. That meant falsifying the record so as not to raise any warning flags off-station.

"It won't work," Colton told him. "You have almost twenty-four hours to sit on your hands waiting for that shipment. That's a long time to sit and hope your secret doesn't get out. That's a long time to pretend like nothin's wrong."

"That's not my problem," D.K. told him. "It's yours. You and your partner are gonna make sure the outside world thinks everythin' is normal in here. If not, if anyone catches wind there's trouble, then me and my boys will have no choice but to start killin' the hostages. Nobody has to die, and I'd much prefer this went off without a killin'. But if things go south, I'll have no choice."

On that, Colton could trust his captor. Public opinion on crime reached a point ages ago where the criminals were thought of as victims. Whether they were victims of poverty or racism or an abusive father, somehow every criminal was a victim who should receive sympathy over punishment.

Simple robbery like the one D.K. planned was often treated by the courts as a minor offense. No matter how big the take, the sentence was always light, often nothing more than time served. As soon as the sentence was handed down, it would be deemed completed and the criminals released.

Since society was so sympathetic to the criminals, there was no expectation that the stolen property should be returned, or that restitution be made instead. The rule of possession overruled all others with the stolen goods belonging to whomever possessed them.

The system was such that criminals would often run after a caper just long enough to hide the stolen property. Then they would turn themselves in, giving up at most sixty days of their lives while the legal process moved. When it was over, they were free. There was no running, no looking over their shoulders while they planned the next caper while they lived off the spoils of their last.

The system was such a joke that the constabulary and other law enforcement officials felt it a waste of time to investigate robberies and burglaries. And for all that, once the americium left Depot-14, it was gone for good. Drayton Atomics would be out a quarter million credits' worth of product while D.K. and his gang would become a quarter million credits richer.

All that changed however if a death resulted from the crime. Though murder changed public opinion very little, law enforcement refused to let a bunch of liberal-minded do-gooders get in the way of justice when a person's life was stolen. And because the system went light on murderers just as it did everyone else, it was rare an outlaw survived the pursuit to face a judge. Protestors could cry about "police wrong-doing" all they wanted, but every constable slept easier at night when they knew there was one less murderer occupying this universe.

This gang had it made once it got away as long as they left Colton and the rest of the hostages alive. It was no guarantee, certainly not for Colton, but it was enough to allow him to work with a clear head and figure out how to get the best of them all before that shipment arrived.

"If you know our schedule good enough to know when that shipment's comin'," Colton continued, "then you know it good enough to know we have the regular commuter shuttle comin' in the mornin'. It would have been a lot easier for you if you had showed up this time tomorrow."

"But that doesn't give me a lot of time to convince you to do the right thing. I have a feelin' you're sittin' there right now figurin' how you can take me and stop this robbery."

D.K. stopped and smiled as if that little secret was some sort of inside joke between the two of them.

"I understand that you and your friend need some convincin', and even some persuasion before you both get onboard with the plan. That's okay, we have all day for that."

Colton turned to the console in front of him considering what to put in his so-called report. Then as if D.K. sensed some of the ideas flowing through that brain, he interrupted the work before Colton ever placed his fingers to the keyboard.

"Just in case you're thinkin' of sendin' out a warnin', consider this: I'm not anxious to kill any of you, but that doesn't mean I won't if pushed to it. Nor does it mean I won't hurt any of you if you get my way. Just look at your friend Quentin. The man had two good arms when we came aboard, now he has one."

Then he smiled with one more bit of joy. "And if you don't care so much for your health, just consider how much damage we could do to this station of yours before the authorities take us."

Colton turned to his console once more considering the words. Insurance would surely cover most of the damage these heathens caused, but it wouldn't compensate him and Jakarta for all the time their depot would be shut down for repairs, and the business lost as a result. He considered any attempt to send a message, whether directly or through one of the ships due to pass through in the interim, would be a mistake. D.K. and his gang had to be subdued before any call for help went out.

Colton wrote and filed the report exactly as his captor expected. D.K. seemed pleased with the final product and that meant the strapping younger man got to keep use of both arms for just a little bit longer.

"Now what?" Colton asked, waiting to see what their interim plan was.

"Now?" D.K. considered, chewing over the question. The answer came as he looked down to his own stomach. "I suppose now we go back to your kitchen so one of you can make me some lunch. Seems I'm getting' a little hungry."

The suggestion flooded Colton's mind with a new flurry of possibilities. How easy it would be to poison the food and take them all out with a single bite, but he knew it would not be that easy. No doubt one of them would stand over his shoulder while he cooked to make sure nothing _unnatural_ went into the preparation. Even then, it wouldn't surprise him to become the taster before these men ever touched their plates.

The thought was a nice one to warm his conscience and soothe his anger over this intrusion, but it could be nothing more than that. No one was that stupid to fall for something so obvious. Colton had to satisfy himself with the thought that the right time would eventually come, a time that would grant him a surefire way to take out these three men. After all, justice had to prevail. It just had to.

Chapter 5

A single empty seat separated Mitchell and Sandra, a separation Mitchell sought to correct. The young man shifted his rear to place it one seat closer, and his ex was none too happy about the change. Sandra promptly rose from her chair and headed to the next table entirely as if the hostage situation all around was but fantasy.

But Slade, seated on a tabletop across the room with his boot resting on one of the chair backs, didn't like what he saw. His boot came to the floor, and he drew closer to the woman with his usual swagger.

"What is all this now?"

"I will not sit at the same table as that...that man!" she insisted.

Slade found her anger amusing. When he finished laughing at her, he cocked his head toward the pair of tables where the rest of the hostages remained seated.

"Mam, you don't get to decide the seating arrangements. This gun here decides that for you, and it says you sit at one of those tables over there."

"I don't see why I have to," she complained. "It's not like I'm bothering you if I sit here."

He took the remaining steps to close the space between them, studying her hair, then moving downward to her hands. With his own right hand, he took the rifle by the barrel so he could free his left to explore her hand. He took her digits within his own and studied the soft skin.

"You have such pretty hands," he told her. "So smooth and delicate. It would be a real shame if somethin' were to happen to them because you couldn't follow instructions."

And with a sudden movement, he slammed the stock of the rifle into the tabletop as close to her other hand as he dared. Sandra nearly jumped from the seat, though enough to free her hand from his. Her eyes were wide as they looked into his. Despite the smile growing across his lips, all she saw was the vicious nature hiding behind that self-confident veneer of his. Without another word, she crept back to the table she previously occupied and took a seat, one away from Mitchell.

Slade gave a victorious laugh as he returned to his own place, sitting on the tabletop once more and placing his big boot on the already-dirty chair back.

Nat had been watching the whole thing quietly from his perch at the counter, and with it over, he turned back to the shiny chrome, thinking about whatever thoughts occupied his mind.

But at the table next to Sandra's, Jakarta couldn't go back to her silent pursuits. She too had simply watched the incident unfold, and at that point, she was almost angrier at Sandra than at the outlaw.

"What is the matter with you?" she blurted out. "With all these guns in our faces and all you can think about is your own little problem."

Sandra turned across to the other woman with a flash of anger overtaking her good senses.

"I don't know why you're yelling at me. I wasn't the one caught in bed with my sister-in-law. I'm the victim here and I don't appreciate everyone snapping at me."

"Well I am sorry if we don't have the luxury of throwin' you a sympathy party. We got more important things to worry about like keepin' our necks safe. Can you at least try to put that lecher out of your mind until these bad guys are gone?"

Sandra couldn't answer that. She wanted to protest and complain further, but Jakarta's face was stern, her nose wrinkled, and her brow furled. She meant too much business for Sandra's taste, so the aggrieved one fell back in her chair and simply folded her arms across her chest.

It was enough for Jakarta who returned to studying the pair with their guns, but Mitchell saw his opening. He simply could not drop this mission of forgiveness. To him, it was as if this standoff erased all the words Colton had shared with him along with all the notions of granting his ex some space.

"I don't know why you won't give me a chance to apologize," he whispered to his ex, quietly and hoping the others wouldn't hear his groveling. "I know I can't undo my mistake, but at least give me a chance to make up for it."

"Make up for it!" Sandra shouted with all the indignity she had pinned up in her bosom. "When that man was over here threatening me, you just sat there like a useless lump and said nothing. He could have had his way with me and you didn't lift one finger to defend my honor. It was Miss Jones who spoke up before and risked her life for me – for all of us. You take a look at that bruise across her cheek. A real man would have taken that for his girl, but not you. You let another woman stand in front of that man's fist.

"You sit there and tell me you want to make up for your affair, but all you've done since you followed me here is to look out for yourself, to worry about your own skin. There is nothing you can do to make up for your sins, so you might as well go back to my brother's ex since you seem to be the kind of man she wants."

Sandra turned her back on Mitchell, folding her arms across her chest. Her ex wanted to say something to make up for his cowardice, but she was right. Maybe he couldn't change who he was deep inside any more than an animal could change the colors on its hide.

Despite the distance, Slade had taken the whole exchange in. He laughed aloud once more, drawing the sad man's attention.

"She sure has your number pal."

"Why don't you shut it?" Mitchell challenged him.

But Slade didn't stir from his perch. He wasn't bothered, rather he found this new courage amusing.

"I don't know if I should keep lookin' down my nose at such a coward, or applaud one who could keep a wife _and_ a mistress on the side."

Jakarta stirred from her thoughts once more, unamused by Slade's new antics.

"Why don't you leave them alone? You have us where you want us. That shipment is practically yours. You don't need to keep rubbin' salt into their private wounds."

"My, you are just determined to be the white knight in all of this!"

Before he could go on with his latest round, something behind him drew his attention. Slade gave it a moment of thought before changing his own track.

"You know," he announced, "all this talkin' is actually makin' me kind of thirsty."

He placed his boot once more on the floor, took up his rifle, and made his way behind the counter into the kitchen area. He took a couple fake looks around before feigning confusion.

"Just where do you keep the glasses back here?"

Then he knelt down behind the counter as if to search for a glass he never intended to find.

Soon after, Colton dropped in on the ladder and stepped into the room.

"I forgot somethin' up in the control room," D.K.'s voice called from above. "You just get started and I'll be back down in a minute."

Colton looked across to the hostages, all of whom remained in silence, even his friend. His eyes then fell on Nat at the counter, now with his head buried in his hands. The boy remained oblivious to the scene around him.

Colton took a couple cautious steps forward as if to join his friends. When he spied the boy's rifle leaning carelessly against the stool next to its owner, he searched the room for the other thug. He then looked across to his friend for some hint to his whereabouts. She wanted to say something; her lips quivered with a measure of excitement, but she kept them tight.

Colton took it as the sign he wanted. It looked to him like Slade had stepped out and this boy made the mistake he had been searching for. He never considered why Jakarta didn't take advantage and try for that rifle herself; all he wanted was to believe this standoff would end there and then.

He shifted his steps carefully to bring himself closer to the counter as he was to pass, but moved cautiously enough not to alarm the boy. He was within three meters, then two. Colton brought his hand up slowly. When he was within one meter, his heart raced with anticipation. He thought that rifle was his – that was until a voice spoke out.

"Hey Colt." It was Jakarta, killing his chance to save them all. He dropped his hand quickly before the boy turned to see what he was up to, and he shifted his footsteps to pull himself away. "He treat you all right up there?"

But Colton was too furious to answer his buddy. He couldn't understand why she would spoil what might have been their only chance to stop this until Slade rose slowly from behind the counter. His hand was firmly around the stock of the rifle, his finger wrapped around the trigger. A bright, almost friendly smile greeted the newest guest.

"You know," the outlaw beamed, "I don't think you keep the glasses down there."

Colton took a brief look toward his friend, the anger melted away as he understood the trap that had been set for him. Slade meant for him to go for that rifle because it meant he had an excuse to shoot him dead. He would thank Jakarta later for saving his life.

"Glasses are up here," he told the man with the gun, as he moved around the counter. Slade didn't like the movement at first and used the rifle to express his displeasure. "Your boss wants me to fix him lunch anyway," Colton told him, "so I gotta be back here whether you like it or not."

He retrieved a glass and gave it to Slade before opening the refrigeration unit to decide what to prepare.

"Oh? And just what is on the menu?" Slade asked him.

"I was thinkin' grilled cheese. Somethin' quick. Somethin' he doesn't have to wait for."

"Grilled cheese is for kids," Slade complained. "I'm sure the boy over there would like one, but a man like me needs real food."

"What did you have in mind?"

"I was just thinkin' about a steak, a big, juicy, rare steak."

Colton looked from the man to his rifle and back again. A bitter consternation bubbled up in the back of his throat. It was as if the thug already rummaged through their kitchen and knew what was available. Colton wanted to defy him. He wanted to tell him to stuff it and deal with a cheap grilled cheese, but he was in no position to back up his bluster.

That was truly the worst part of this all. He and Jakarta could both fight. Both of them could shoot with the best of them. They were nowhere near as helpless as he felt in that moment. If only he could even the odds, he could show these criminals what was what. He could give them a fight they'd never forget, one that might even force them to question their career choice. Instead, all the man could do was agree with this man's demands and give him the steak he wanted.

He removed a beautifully marbled piece of beef from refrigeration and set it on the counter. _What a shame to waste such a beautiful cut on such a lowlife._

Chapter 6

"Why don't we just take them?"

It took a while, but Mitchell finally broke out of his humiliated silence to suggest some real action.

Problem was, Colton fumed too hard over lunch to pay him much attention. For all the work he put into cooking, D.K. took all the food for him and his men, leaving the hostages to feast on nothing but coffee. It was obvious what he was doing. The man hoped they would grow too weak with hunger by the end of the ordeal to come to the realization Mitchell just reached and act on it. Of course one day without food wasn't really going to hurt anyone, but any advantage the outlaw could create, he would.

"There's more of us than there are of them. If we just wait for them to split up, we could rush the two they leave behind."

"Yeah," Jakarta sighed, "and get one or more of us killed in the process. All those men want is money. They don't want our blood on their hands any more than we want to die. As long as we keep our wits about us and don't try anything stupid, we'll keep things that way. But as soon as they draw first blood, there will be nothin' stopping them from killin' every last one of us. That's not somethin' I want to see happen, and I'm sure Colt here doesn't want to see it either."

"Huh?" Her friend pulled his mind away from that mouthwatering lunch on the mention of his name. "Oh, right."

Jakarta spied a new look in his eye and it troubled her. She nudged him to the next table so they could speak privately from the others.

"What's the matter with you?" she asked him. "You're not thinkin' along the lines of that fool, are ya?"

"No, you're completely right. D.K. doesn't want any blood. As much as I'd like to strangle that man, we have to think about them," he said, signaling back to the broken couple and the regional supervisor. "Just think, this station ends up with a death on its record and we can kiss our franchise goodbye. All the friends we've worked so hard to make will turn their backs on us. All these companies we've established reputations with will take their business through another depot. We'll be back at day one, dependent on the business the central office throws our way."

"I agree with that, but I'm not sure how long that hothead can go without pullin' his trigger."

"Slade's not still givin' you trouble, is he?"

"Nothin' I can't handle," Jakarta assured him. "But I'm afraid he'll cross that line the next time your buddy D.K. turns his back on him."

Colton studied the three at the counter devouring his cooking. Slade enjoyed that steak too much for his liking, and despite all his prayers that the man would choke on it, the possibility was highly unlikely.

"I suppose I can use that to our advantage."

"How?" Jakarta asked him, looking at him like he was crazy.

"If D.K. doesn't want any killin', maybe I can turn his buddy into an unwanted distraction."

"And if he's worried about Slade," Jakarta realized, "he won't be lookin' at us quite so hard."

"Yeah." He studied the trio some more, turning his thoughts toward the youngest of them. "What do you make of the boy? Nat was it? He looks like he doesn't want to be here. I've seen that look of his before and it usually means the trigger finger freezes when the trouble starts."

"Don't let him fool ya," Jakarta warned. "Sure he's scared and he doesn't want to be here, but when push comes to shove he will hold his own. Still," she added, placing her own take onto Colton's thoughts, "I might be able to make an inroad with him. Don't forget, I used to be like him: young, lost, foolish. I could have just as easily gone down the path he's takin'. Maybe I can use that now to give him some second thoughts."

"Just be careful," Colton advised her. "We don't know how close he is with his buddies. You badmouth them too much and you may just drive him closer to them when he feels he needs to defend them."

"Don't have to tell me. This isn't my first rodeo, Colt."

Slade swallowed his last bite and slid his plate across the counter. Then he turned toward Colton as if to gloat.

"Well now, that was a mighty fine good steak you cooked up."

"I wouldn't know."

Slade rose from his stool as if to continue the taunts, but the familiar tone sounded throughout the room and pulled the stationmaster away from the fool.

"D.K.," he called, talking past Slade, "we have an incoming message."

"And just how do you know that?" the boss asked him, suspicious of his motives.

"That tone you just heard tells us when someone outside wants us. If I don't answer it, you'll have all kinds of trouble comin' down on you when someone comes to investigate."

"Okay," he relented after mulling it over, "I'll take you back up to your control room and you can answer it, but I swear if this is a trick, you won't be able to talk after I rip your tongue out."

"We don't need to go all the way up there," Colton told him. "I can take care of it at that panel over there."

"And have them hear one of your friends call out? I don't think so."

Colton just shrugged. It didn't matter too much to him as long as that call was answered. Whoever waited on the other end might wonder why it took so long to answer, but as long as an answer came, they would do nothing that would get these hostages killed.

Slade pushed Colton into the same station he worked at before and pulled back, keeping his rifle up in case he felt the need to use it.

Colton opened the channel, and a panicked message broke the silence.

"Supply Depot-14, I repeat, this is an emergency. A fire has depleted our oxygen. If we do not dock soon, everyone aboard will die."

Colton looked up and turned to his captor, nearly shaking his head.

"Sound familiar, D.K.?"

"You think this is another gang making a play for the americium?"

"Two in one day. It can't be a coincidence."

"Then tell them to go to the next station. Tell them you have your own emergency and can't take them right now."

"Depot-15 is too far away," Colton protested. "If they're tellin' the truth, they won't make it. Then the central office will come to investigate. It'll be the same for you as if we had ignored the message."

He ignored D.K.'s further suggestions to respond to the call.

"Unknown vessel, you are clear to dock. In the meantime, I need you to transmit your credentials."

And he waited to see if the paperwork would come through or if they would ignore his request as D.K. had. It was a tense few moments, but it was a tension that would be rewarded. The screen in front of him flashed once and a list appeared with everything Colton hoped to learn. He had a registration number along with the crew and cargo manifests.

Colton explained to D.K. what he was doing with the information while he sent it to the central office for verification, but for the time being his fears were lifted. There was still a possibility this was another ship of outlaws, but the odds now favored the possibility D.K. was about to receive more hostages.

Chapter 7

Colton waited at the airlock with D.K. standing behind him, the rifle left uncomfortably close to his back as a reminder of the penalty for tipping this crew off to the situation on the station.

The hatch opened and a young woman climbed up and stood on the deck of Depot-14's cargo hold. Her hair was a mess and her face was tinted with soot. That and the smoke wafting up from the hole at their feet confirmed the story.

Despite the mess, Colton seemed to lock up over the beauty hiding behind the grime, but it was only brief as she too froze at the sight of D.K.'s rifle.

"Don't mind him," Colton told her after finding his voice. "We've heard rumors of trouble so I decided to take on some extra security until it blows over. Name's Colton."

He extended his hand to her. The woman lifted hers, and studied the soot and grease coating her fingers, thinking it might be best they not shake hands. When she looked up into Colton's eyes and he seemed undeterred by her state, she took a chance and completed the handshake anyway.

"Call me Felicia," she smiled. "I want to thank you answering my call. For a second I didn't think you would."

"I'm sorry about that," Colton said. We're doin' maintenance on some of the terminals and it knocked communications offline on the lower levels. The important thing is we answered. So what seems to be the trouble?"

Felicia rolled her eyes knowing the whole thing was going to sound stupid. Then again, when you're stuck taking help from strangers, you're stuck with the embarrassment that might come with it.

"I have a crewman who's a disaster in the galley. I keep telling him to leave the cooking to someone else, but it's like he has something to prove. He just won't listen. This time, he started a grease fire. Normally it wouldn't be such a bad thing, but the fire detection system decided to fail and it never triggered the suppression system. By the time we got it out ourselves, it claimed half the galley."

"Your air filtration should have cleared the smoke," D.K. interrupted.

"Except there was so much smoke," Felicia continued to explain, "the filters were overwhelmed. That system shut down and we couldn't get the oxygen back."

Colton thought her problem over and a bit of relief washed over him. "Doesn't sound too bad. Should only take an hour or so for this station to clean up your air. Then we can get in and clean your filters. With any luck all we have to do is restart your filtration system after that. Nothin' I can do about the fire systems, but as long as you keep your crewman away from the kitchen, you'll make it down to Durango without any more problems."

"Thank you. I don't know how I can repay you."

"Well," he smiled, "that part comes when you get the bill. In the meantime, I can give your crew access to my mess hall and the recreational area on deck six. Unfortunately because of our security concerns I can't grant anyone access above deck six, and I can't assign quarters."

"Not a problem. If the damage is as simple as you think, we won't need to spend the night."

As Felicia led her small crew from the ship and up the ladder to the mess, Colton breathed a sigh of relief that this was not the trouble he feared. When they got up to the mess hall, they would find no sign of the hostages or the other criminals. Colton had suggested when they came down to meet the ship that they secure everyone in crew quarters to avoid interaction. D.K. hated that idea, thinking it a trick to split the hostages up into more groups than he had men to cover them.

As a compromise, he agreed to remove everyone to the gym. Everyone was moved and the deck sealed off so there would be no sound escaping to trouble these new visitors. As long as Felicia and her people respected the boundaries set, her ship would get the repairs it needed and they would be off without any hint to the danger surrounding them.

When the smoke cleared, Colton descended into her ship with D.K. sticking close. He decided not to tell Felicia when it was time. As pretty as she was, the woman was a distraction Colton couldn't afford. Besides that, he thought this would finally be the opportunity he sought to sow the seeds of doubt between that band of outlaws.

Colton found the filtration system and set to work taking it apart to reach the filters. When he had the first in his hands, he looked to D.K. and figured this was as good a time as any to get the fly buzzing in his ear.

"I thought you wanted to pull this off without any blood."

"Are you worried about my little threat to rip out your tongue?"

"I'm worried about your boy, Slade. He's causin' problems with the others."

"He's just a blowhard," D.K. told him, dismissing the concerns. "He's all bluster."

"Is he? Are you really willin' to take the chance he won't do somethin' stupid? If you take that americium the way things stand now, the law won't bother chasin' you down. But if Slade loses his cool and pulls that trigger, the law won't separate his actions from yours. They'll hunt you down sure as if you pulled the trigger yourself. And you know as well as I do it's better than even money they'll make sure you never make it to trial. You'll never get to sell that metal, and you'll never get a chance to spend that money, all because your man lets his head get the best of him."

"I know what you're doin'," D.K. responded, "and it won't work. You're tryin' to pit me against my men. You think if you get us to turn on each other you might get your shot to stop this robbery."

"I'm tryin' to keep those people alive," Colton snapped. "I can do that with a reasonable man like you, but I have no guarantees with a hothead like Slade."

"Slade isn't as bad as you think," D.K. offered. "It isn't about the gun – the gun is nothin' to him. It's about the fight. For as long as I've known him, that boy loves to fight. He's the kind of man who goes into the clubs and sizes up the drunks instead of the girls. His nose has been broke so many times, I've lost count. And that's just in the time I've known him. I suspect he's had it broke more times than that before we met."

"That may be, but it still doesn't help. If all he's lookin' for is a fight, Jackie will give him one. And I'm afraid after she beats the snot out of him, he'll lose his mind and shoot her just for beatin' him."

D.K. cocked his head at the notion Colton suggested. "You really think she matches up to Slade?"

"You seem to think she doesn't. That's the mistake most people make when tryin' to muscle in on her. But I can tell you from experience, I wouldn't want to go toe-to-toe with her."

"Maybe I was wrong," D.K. mused. "Usually in these kinds of partnerships, one of you is the brains and the other is the brawn."

"If you thought I was the muscle of this outfit and she the brains, then why did you take me to do the administrative work?"

"That's easy," D.K. smiled. "If she were the brains of your outfit, she was more likely to figure how to get a warning out without me knowin'. Maybe I had it wrong all this time."

"We're both equally capable in all respects, if you're thinkin' what I think you're thinkin'."

"Probably not. For I was thinkin' you might be right about my buddy Slade. Maybe he is gettin' a little too hot in that collar of his. Maybe I should find a way to cool him off, and I think you just gave me an idea how to do that."

Colton replaced the last of the filters and froze wondering what the man meant by that. D.K. was right in thinking this was about driving a wedge in their partnership, but all of a sudden, he had a feeling he may have made his situation worse.

Chapter 8

A scent of perspiration and perseverance hung throughout the gym. No matter how hard the environmental system tried, it could never erase the smell completely, which might have served more as a testament to how hard the gym had been used than as a failure in the station.

The room held a collection of equipment approximating resistance training and free weights, only there was no weight per se. Instead the resistance came through the manipulation of localized gravity fields. While at a particular station, strain on the muscles was determined by the strength of the field. All the user had to move was an empty bar or a handle or a paddle.

In the event of an accident or inopportune muscle failure, the gravity field could be released with a simple voice command. Gravity within the field would fall to zero, and the bar could be removed with the slightest touch, at which point it would float away toward the edge of the field where it would become trapped at the point where the equipment's gravity warred with that of the station.

No one in the group had any desire for a workout while they waited nervously for the mystery ship below to leave, though Slade found amusement in the equipment. He looked over one rack with a bar resting shoulder high.

"Now what are ya supposed to do with this?"

Jakarta looked at him rather annoyed for the ignorance. It wasn't worth a response except he had flown off the handle the last time his curiosity went unsatisfied.

"You rest the bar on top of your shoulders and ya squat with it," she explained to him.

"Really?" He scrunched his nose as he looked it over some more, unable to comprehend the use in such a movement. Still, his curiosity got to him, so he stepped in front of the bar and tried to rest it on his shoulders like Jakarta said. The action was awkward as he struggled with his hand placement. He needed to be shown the most basic form of the stance before even attempting a "squat," but Jakarta wasn't willing to go that far. In secret, she hoped he might hurt his back so he wouldn't be a threat any longer.

When he had the bar balanced enough for his liking, he attempted to squat down. His balance was worse than his posture and he nearly fell forward as his legs bent, but the man seemed satisfied after only a half-squat. Slade stood once more and placed the bar back on its pins with a self-satisfied smile.

"That wasn't so hard," he bragged. "I don't see what the big deal about all this stuff is."

"You're supposed to increase the gravity until it gets challengin'," Jakarta told him.

Slade just studied the rack some more as if he had never considered it, when in reality the woman had told him the same thing before with the last two pieces of equipment he had looked over. The whole thing fascinated him more than it should, but it kept him distracted.

Jakarta watched him while he moved to the next piece of equipment and looked it over. While he was busy, she scooted herself closer to Nat, finally seeing her chance to talk with him.

"You haven't said much since you got here," Jakarta began.

"I have nothin' to say, that's all. Especially to you."

"Not even 'shut up? Get back to your place?'"

"My gun tells you that. Words are nothin' but a waste of breath."

"Who told you that? D.K.? Or Slade?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Look, I get it," Jakarta said, softening her voice. "Things were tough at home. So what was it? Your mother died when you were six? Your father went out one day for milk and never came home?"

She spied a tick at the corner of his mouth and a new awareness came to her.

"He beat you, didn't he? Your father was a monster."

In a flash of anger, Nat brought up his rifle and shoved it into her chest.

"What my daddy did or didn't do is none of your business!"

"Okay, I'm sorry," Jakarta offered hoping to calm him down. But it came too late for Slade took note of the commotion and came marching over with his rifle.

"Get away from him," he ordered.

"Are you his guardian?" Jakarta snapped. "Are you the one makin' the decisions for this boy?"

She turned toward Nat before Slade could answer. "Is this the kind of company you want to keep? The kind that tells you who you can talk to or not? The kind that tells you what to do? Or maybe you need someone like that. Maybe you're the kind who can't even go to the closet by yourself without someone like that holding your hand and unfastening your britches."

"I don't need him to speak for me," Nat snapped. "And it doesn't change the fact that I don't want to talk to you. Like Slade says, you get back over there where you belong."

"I get it, kid, because I was there once. I grew up in one of those spots on Durango where no one with any sense would even go near. I didn't think I had any choices growin' up; it was either steal for my food or die in the gutter like my friends. It took me too long to realize there were other choices, but I realized it. I realized I could get out of that mess if I ignored the negative voices all around, if I applied myself in school and tried to make myself a better person.

"Maybe you didn't have the hard childhood I did. Maybe you're one of those from a respectable family that worked all their lives and did what they were supposed to while it was the criminals like your friends here who got ahead. Maybe you're one of those who woke up one mornin' and asked yourself why bother makin' an honest livin' when crime seems to be the only profession that pays.

"But let me tell you somethin', this is a slippery slope you're headin' down. Sooner or later you're gonna come across someone who won't just roll over. You'll come across someone who decides their stuff is worth defending. And either you're gonna have to kill them or they're gonna kill you. If you're the one that walks away, you're gonna wish you hadn't when the constable catches up to you."

"Don't worry about me," Nat cut in. "With the money we're getting from this heist, I won't have to pull another."

"Sure! Because that quarter million credits splits so nicely three ways."

"Four," he corrected. "Birch, the pilot, gets a share."

"Of course! That's so much better. After expenses, you won't even see sixty thousand for yourself. That kind of money won't get you a nice spread on the surface. If you're smart with your money, you might make it three Durango years before it's gone.

"Then again, your kind never is. You'll probably blow it in the clubs hopin' to impress one of those pretty girls, or maybe you'll gamble it all away. I bet you won't reach half a year before your cut is gone. Then what? You'll have to pull another caper to keep you goin'. Then another. It's a vicious cycle and you'll never break yourself from it."

"What business is it of yours? If that's what I want to do with my life, then who are you to tell me different? Slade's been doin' this for a while now, and he hasn't gotten himself into any trouble. Right?" he asked, turning to his partner.

"Right, kid. Don't let this space punk get in your head. She just talks too much and besides, she's jealous at all the money you're gonna have in your pocket when this is over. Sixty thousand credits is a lot more money than she'll ever see working in this dump for the rest of her life."

"But at least it's honest money," Jakarta told him. "Someday when I'm tellin' my grandkids what I did here, I can hold my head up high. But you? If you're still around for that day, all you get to tell them is what a lowlife you were."

Slade didn't like that one bit and brought his rifle across to the top of her head to express his displeasure. Jakarta fell to the floor and her hand went to her head, coming away with fresh blood from the opened wound.

"Like I said," Slade sneered, "You talk too much and I'm gettin' real tired of your voice."

"Then why don't you put the gun down and fight me in a fair fight," Jakarta challenged him.

Slade's lip curled and the corners ticked upward. Nothing would have given him greater pleasure than a knock-out, drag-down fight with her, but he had that invisible hand holding him back, that vague sense of responsibility doing its best to fight through all the noise of his rage to keep him from blowing D.K.'s plans. The longer he stayed with these people, Jakarta in particular, the weaker that grip became. Even consciously, he knew it would be a matter of time before she said just the right thing that would let him shake that hand off completely.

But that time was not yet upon him. He took his rifle in frustration and retreated back to a treadmill sitting along the wall.

From her perspective, Jakarta won that little exchange. With blood trickling down her forehead and starting around her eye, she looked over to Nat who had a look of horror frozen across his brow.

"You see now the kind of company you keep?" she asked him. "The kind that hits women while they're at gunpoint because he's too yellow to face them on even ground."

Nat's face came unglued and his horror turned to anger. "It wouldn't have happened if you'd just stay where you're supposed to. No one has to get hurt, but you keep bringin' it on yourself."

"You keep tellin' yourself that, kid. You tell yourself that when he gets mad enough to pull that trigger. You tell yourself that when some constable has you in his sights and pulls that trigger on you. You tell yourself whatever you have to to sleep tonight, but it won't make any difference. At the end of the day, what you and your buddies are doing is wrong, and you know it. I just hope for your sake, you wake up and untangle yourself from all this before it's too late for you."

Chapter 9

The day grew late for the station, and Colton was anxious to get Felicia and her crew on their way before D.K. decided to involve them as part of his robbery. Oftentimes, what one wants isn't always what they get.

"I want to thank you for your help," the Captain said to her rescuer.

Her lips puckered ever so slightly in a nervous invitation, just enough to broadcast the invite, but not so much as to leave her embarrassed if the offer was refused. In another time, in another situation, Colton might have accepted her invitation. He wasn't able to give her much of a chance to clean up, but did he ever find her attractive!

It was one of the cruelties of living and working on such a tight station. Relationships were brief and fleeting. If he wanted to meet a girl for more than a few minutes, he had to make a trip to the planet. But the kinds of girls he met down there weren't the kind he wanted for more than an evening of fun. It was these captains with their tales of travel and adventure he found intriguing more than most.

With D.K. and his rifle too close for his liking, he had to try and push Felicia back on her way.

"I guess you want to get goin' now. You're probably anxious to get the rest of the repairs underway."

"I was hoping I could get one last meal for the crew before we leave."

That was another cruel invitation, one he would have welcomed with his freedom. He needed her to leave, but he couldn't refuse her request any more than he could her call for help. Part of his contractual obligations involved feeding the people who passed through. As long as they could pay for the meal, he and his partner were required to cook.

"Of course," he told her, frustrating D.K. Colton handed out the menus before turning toward his stove to heat up the pans.

"What do you think you're doing?" D.K. whispered into his ear.

Colton had to explain it to him and assure the armed man he didn't like it either.

"After they eat, they'll be on their way," he explained. "I promise."

"They better be. I don't want to have to start killin' your friends upstairs because you're trying to pull one over on me."

"I'm not tryin' to pull one over on you, so don't get trigger happy. Just stand there lookin' like security and those people won't suspect a thing."

Colton could hear the frustration in the man's breath, but it didn't matter to him. All D.K. could do about it if he wanted his americium without trouble was to stand to the side and look like a security person as Colton suggested.

The stationmaster took the orders and removed the food he would prepare for them. As he started the meat cooking and the vegetables steaming, Felicia leaned across the counter hoping to carry on their conversation.

"Your bodyguard sure takes his job seriously."

"No more so than the rest of us. Like I said, there's rumors of trouble, so it reflects awful poorly on him if we were to see trouble here. What about you? You see any trouble in your business?"

"You mean besides my careless cook?" she laughed. "No. I don't haul anything sexy enough to attract the criminals. Most of them can't see past the shiny precious metals, complex electronics, and credit blanks. Ask them what to do with a thousand metric tons of celery and they stare at you blankly as if you just asked them to solve some differential equation."

Colton had to chuckle as he plated the food, keeping one eye on his own criminal for a sign how he'd take the insult. There was no telling what D.K. thought about the conversation when even Colton wasn't entirely sure she didn't make that comment out of some suspicion.

He placed the plates in front of the hungry crew, and one of them turned to the youngest among them.

"See? That's what food's supposed to look like."

The rest of the crew had a hearty laugh over the joke, but the young man it was directed at hung his head with shame. Colton couldn't help think of Nat upstairs. Like him, the one these guys made fun of was barely a man.

"Why don't you lay off the boy?" Colton suggested softly. "He probably just needs someone to teach him."

A man like Slade would have turned his insults toward Colton, or at least told him to shut his mouth. Instead, Felicia's crew fell silent, as if the suggestion put them to shame. It was a stark contrast to D.K.'s crew, probably a broader difference between the criminals and the honest men and women.

"You would have made an excellent captain," she told him.

"Are you makin' me an offer?" he laughed.

"My ship already has a captain. I'm just saying."

"Don't think the thought of my own ship didn't cross my mind before buyin' this franchise. Truth is, I can't imagine leavin' Durango. Oh sure, I'm more than a hundred kilometers from the surface, but I can take the scout and go down there whenever I like. I couldn't do that if I was in orbit over some other world.

"On the other hand," he told her, changing tracks, "there's nothing stopping you from bookin' service here whenever you're around. My contract doesn't allow me to poach incoming ships, but if a ship's captain were to request assignment to a particular station, the main office entirely allows that."

"Sounds like you want a second date."

Colton smiled and his cheeks flushed red at the suggestion, while behind him, D.K. rolled his eyes, waiting for this meal to end and these intrusions to be on their way.

"If that's what this is, then I'm sorry the first one doesn't meet expectations. As you can imagine, it's been crazy around here with all the rumors."

"Don't apologize. I only expected salvation, and I got this wonderful meal on top of that. I'd say my expectations were exceeded."

The crew started pushing their plates away from them to signal they were done. Felicia took it as a subtle reminder that she too needed to finish up and get them on their way again. Colton may have offered the recreational deck for their purposes, but this crew had spent too long in space. They were overly anxious to step on solid ground once more, even if it was only until the ship was fixed.

Colton led them back down to the cargo section and stood watch as they descended the ladder and vanished onto their ship. Soon the hatches closed and the panel by his feet told him the ship had disengaged. A deep breath marked his relief that no mistakes were made and no one got hurt.

"'bout time you got them on their way," D.K. said, pulling him from his moment of comfort.

"You got somethin' better to do, D.K.? It's still eighteen hours before that shipment arrives. That gives you plenty of time to threaten me and my people to stay in line."

"Maybe, but I don't want to have to wait all that time for my dinner."

With all the excitement Felicia brought, it was hard to remember just how much time had passed since he served these goons lunch. The whole group came back down to the mess for the gang's dinner, and Colton started up the stove one more time.

Jakarta noticed the dirty dishes everywhere and saw her chance to get back together with her partner. While Colton cooked, she collected the dishes and the dirty pans and stuffed them into the washer.

"If I knew that's what it took to get you to do the dishes," Colton joked, "I'd 'ave had you kidnapped a year ago!"

"Ha, ha, very funny."

Colton turned briefly from the stove to see the look on her face when he noticed the large bruise on her forehead.

"What did they do to you?" he asked, all joy falling away from his voice.

"Slade happened. He didn't like me talking to the boy."

"I warned D.K. he would be trouble, but that man just buries his head in the mud when it comes to that fool. He seems to think he's got some idea how to tame him, but otherwise doesn't seem too worried."

"Rest of us are worried though. I think Sandra is on the brink of tears if he blows up one more time, and Mr. Sedgewick doesn't think he's making it out of this alive."

"He won't if we can't get them alone to make our play."

Chapter 10

It wasn't long after dinner that D.K. ordered everyone up and into the visitor cabins for the night. Jakarta wasn't happy that she couldn't have her own bed, but the outlaw wasn't about to split the group between two separate decks. Having one person stand watch while the other two slept was preferable. It didn't matter that he had locked down the deck and changed the security codes so neither of the franchisees could get out. His paranoia that the pair had a backdoor of sorts worked into the programming overruled Jakarta's desire for her own bed.

But there was no backdoor, and no amount of arguing was going to change that. She and Colton both figured it was better to get the sleep and approach the problem fresh in the morning. How fresh they actually were was a matter for debate. It was a tough night for sleep. Colton and Jakarta had one eye open all night, fearing someone might come through that door and try to murder them in their sleep.

And then there were the dreams. When sleep did come, it was very uncomfortable and troubling. The dreams themselves weren't much to speak of. Colton found his sleeping mind just focused on a point in space and manifested a physical...something at that point. He wasn't sure what it was supposed to be, but each time his eyes shut, that physical point in space appeared, troubling his mind with its mysteries.

For him, morning couldn't come soon enough, and yet when D.K. came calling, he was in the middle of that dream and rued him for pulling him from it. The outlaw didn't care. He was worried about breakfast. To Colton, it felt that man's mind was always on food, though in reality, his cravings didn't occur any more frequently than they were supposed to.

The stationmaster glanced at his clock as he rose and remembered they had the morning commuter shuttle to worry about. With a passenger liner due to dock late in the day, he feared that shuttle had more prisoners for D.K. to hold over his and Jakarta's heads.

The pans heated quickly and soon the smell of bacon filled the vast circular room. Colton himself was starving, and tried to sneak food whenever D.K. and his men weren't looking. His own hunger pains abating, he decided to try and sneak his partner a bite.

"Hey, Jackie, I think you forgot to put the dishes away last night when they were done cleanin'."

"Is that all you're worried about right now?"

"I have to worry about them sometime," he told her.

The woman didn't seem like she had much of a choice, and circled around the counter to comply. As soon as she opened the door to all the clean dishes awaiting attention, Colton called to her one more time with a forkful of egg.

"Tell me if you think I need more salt."

As soon as she saw that delectable food, Jakarta realized what he was up to. She took the bits of egg into her mouth and pretended to think it over while she chewed.

"I can't tell," she said, trying to sound serious. "Maybe another try would do it."

But Slade was wise to their tricks.

"You're supposed to be cooking the food, not eatin' it," he sneered.

Jakarta just rolled her eyes and returned to the washer full of dishes. Colton continued to slip her bites when he was sure they weren't being watched, but those moments were too infrequent. When it came time to serve, both of them had only taken enough food to quench the hunger pains for a short time.

"What time is that shuttle due?" D.K. asked, trying to keep his prisoners' minds off of any unwelcome notions.

"Top of the hour," Colton told him. "Then it could be anywhere from one to two hours before it swings back around.

"What's it gotta come back for?" Slade asked as if the whole notion was stupid.

"As it goes from station to station, it picks up anyone waitin' for a transfer. As soon as it hits all the stations, it's gotta come back around and drop everyone off where they're supposed to catch their connecting flight."

"It still sounds stupid," Slade complained. "Why don't they just take a direct flight?"

"Lots of reasons," Jakarta added. "Maybe they couldn't get a direct flight when they wanted or maybe they have to meet someone here before moving on."

Slade dropped his fork and looked to her with growing frustration. As far as he was concerned, his question was directed toward Colton and she had no business adding her take.

"Well aren't you just the smart one! So smart I guess that bump on the noggin didn't learn you yesterday."

"And it's like I told you," she snapped at him, "any time you want to put down that gun and meet me in a fair fight, I'm waitin'."

He rose from the stool in a rush and swept up his rifle. There was uncertainty in the way he handled it, as if he couldn't decide whether to wave it threateningly or return it to its resting place and face her with his bare fists like she suggested.

D.K. too rose from the stool and placed himself almost in the middle as if he intended to stop it.

"I don't know what's been goin' on between you two when I'm not around, but it has to stop," he began, looking back and forth between both adversaries to make sure they understood it was directed equally to both sides. "We're gonna settle this here and now before that shuttle gets here. That way we can get back to the business we came for."

Colton's eyes went to the rifle in D.K.'s hands, and he feared what his opposite had in mind; but he kept his mouth shut, hoping he was wrong. He kept his place rather than charge and risk everyone's lives on the gamble that he wasn't. He shifted his feet very slightly so that his weight was poised on his toes in case he had to jump should his fears come true.

D.K. gave his last silent stare to his man before opening up with his idea. There was almost a note of joy in the expression as his lips parted to share his thoughts, and Colton waited with frozen breath for a sign of what his next move should be.

"If you two can agree with it, I think you should settle your differences with a fair fight. It's obvious to everyone you're both itchin' for one," he said, turning back toward Jakarta. "I'm gonna give you the opportunity to have at it. No guns. No knives. Just the two of you one-on-one with your bare fists."

"Absolutely not!" Colton shouted out, rising to his feet, but remaining firm. It wasn't a conscious choice on his part, but it was a move that tried to use his height and stature to intimidate the outlaw enough to back down from the crazy notion.

Yet, it didn't seem so crazy to his partner. Jakarta almost salivated at the suggestion. She had agreed with Colton's decision to sit back and let things play out for the sake of their guests, but with each minute she spent with Slade, the urge to ignore common sense and stand up to him grew with intensity. That idea that D.K. would actually give her the chance to show that arrogant young man what was what, well that pleased her more than if they had actually stopped the robbery altogether.

As D.K. explained his reasons for why this fight was going to happen, Colton stood there silently. Reason flowed through his thoughts and suggested how their odds would improve if his partner managed to knock Slade out. Two criminals sounded better to Colton than three, especially when the two did not include that wildcard Slade.

D.K. and Nat both took up their rifles and kept them ready to make sure no one else tried anything foolish during the match while Slade and Jakarta moved toward one of the more open spaces within the mess hall.

"This is going to be a clean fight," D.K. announced. "There will be no hair pullin' and no unnecessary gropin'," he told Slade. "And no strikes below the belt," he warned Jakarta.

"I don't need to fight dirty to win," Jakarta sneered.

"'cause I'm gonna knock you out before you ever get the chance," Slade taunted.

D.K. backed out of the way and gave them a signal to begin.

Slade took the first swing and connected with Jakarta's face before she could react, but she returned quickly with her fist. Slade wasn't poised to take it and stumbled backwards, tripping over a chair behind him and dropping onto the tabletop. Jakarta moved in to grab him by the collar, but he brought his foot up and pushed her back, forcing her similarly onto the tabletop behind her.

Colton watched anxiously, and for him, it took on the sensation of a boxing match; he was personally vested in his fighter. He got visibly excited each time Jakarta landed a blow on Slade or knocked him on his back, and his spirits were crushed with each bit of luck Slade found.

If the furniture wasn't fixed to the floor, the place would have been a total mess. It might have been a so-called clean fight, but each combatant made liberal use of those obstacles in their strategies.

Slade landed another blow across Jakarta's face and sent her flying backwards, only there was no table or chair where she landed. The woman went straight to the floor, and Slade was on top of her before she could raise her feet to defend herself. From his position, Slade was free to let loose. All Jakarta could do was take his blows. Even she thought it was over since she couldn't find an opening to repel him.

But Slade was too cocky and his arrogance soon got the best of him. So sure was he of victory, he swung without any thought of protecting himself. His fists came almost from his face and it opened up his abdomen for attack.

Jakarta spied it between blows. She brought her fist upward with all the force she could muster, landing her knuckles between two of his ribs. They dug in and delivered enough pain to stun her opponent for a moment. It was a moment Jakarta made use of. She brought her other fist up and around his arms to land a blow across the side of his face. It was enough to force him back and off of her, and that allowed her to get back to her feet.

Slade tried to recover, but she pressed his sudden awkwardness, turning the tables on him, and delivering hit after hit, split between his face and his soft belly. He stumbled back to his feet, trying to find solid footing to regain any sense of dominance, but Jakarta was relentless. She landed a blow right in his eye, blurring his vision. While he tried to shake it off, she landed another across his cheek, finally knocking him off his feet.

Slade fell backwards and his head landed squarely against a chair back. The force of that bone on metal was the final blow Jakarta needed to win. By the time Slade hit the floor, he was out cold.

The woman didn't need the two rifles pointing her way to remind her not to press her victory. As far as she was concerned this fight was over, having shown Slade who the real top dog was between them. She stood there calmly as Colton approached to look her injuries over to make sure none of them were too serious.

"Isn't your boy going to be angrier at my friend when he wakes up?" Colton asked D.K. rather nervously.

"Naw," he tried to assure the stationmaster. "That fight was all he really wanted, and he got it. Sure he won't be happy about losing, but Slade's the kind of guy who knows when he's been bested. He'll quietly grumble, but he'll keep his peace rather than risk a second humiliation. You wanted me to take care of him, and I did."

Colton wasn't so sure about it himself, but it did not matter. Almost immediately a soft tone filled the air. A transmission was incoming, and at that moment it was most certain to be the commuter shuttle calling to announce its arrival.

Chapter 11

The hatch opened and Colton was greeted by the shuttle's pilot.

"Mornin' Colt."

"Mornin' Mac."

Colton's greeting lacked its usual warmth. There was a certain repore between the stationmasters and the regular pilots, a repore that led to too much chitchat and not enough passenger transfers. It was the kind of socialization necessary for the two halves of the system to function with each other, but it doubled the roundtrip time of the shuttle nonetheless.

Still, the parties always understood the mood of the other from the greeting alone. That Colton's was flat and dull was unusual.

"Somethin' wrong this morning, Colt?" the pilot asked him as if on cue.

Colton thought of D.K. standing just a bit behind him. His rifle was left behind a crate of hinge lubricant, but he didn't need it when a newly-awaken Slade and his younger counterpart both had their rifles trained on the other hostages up in the mess hall, waiting for any sign from the cargo hold that Colton decided to stop playing nice.

D.K. was just far enough back that Colton figured he might whisper a warning to Mac, some word that would suggest he contact the central office after leaving the station, a word that would convince those higher-ups to contact the incoming cargo ship and warn them to avoid Depot-14. Still, the outlaw was not that far back. Colton worried his muted word might still be heard, or, more likely, Mac would give a note of surprise over the warning that would alert D.K. to the trick.

Colton knew a time would come, but this wasn't it. He had to stand firm to his plan and not act until he was sure the others were safe.

"I just had a rough night's sleep, that's all. You know how some of these passengers can get while waiting for their ship."

"That ornery couple still givin' you trouble?" Mac smirked."

"Somethin' like that," Colton replied, trying not to get into it right there.

Still, Colton considered he might have been able to take out D.K. before the man could get a scream out. Maybe two fingers to the throat would kill his breathe and prevent the words from coming out, or a sucker punch to the gut to knock the wind out of him. There were too many possibilities driving Colton mad as he thought of the attack he would never make.

Upstairs in the mess hall, Jakarta too had similar thoughts. That fight D.K. permitted seemed ridiculous, but it told the woman she could take down Slade easy enough when the time seemed right.

Her wildcard was Nat. She still could not figure out if her words had gotten through to that boy or if he was beyond saving before he ever stepped foot on the station. It would do the others no good if she were to take out Slade only to have that kid open fire on the rest of them. Her opportunity for resistance required the two of them to go down at once.

"I have no doubt you and your partner have a plan to take care of them before the americium arrives," Sedgewick whispered to her. "After all, the security here is legendary."

Jakarta couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or he truly held out hope, but it angered her just to think he doubted them.

"As that shipment gets closer," she told him, hoping to give some sense that she and Colton weren't stumbling through this hold-up, "their minds will turn more and more to that shipment and the money. That means they'll slip up watching us and we'll get our opening. Don't you worry about that."

But someone else was not so patient. Across the table, Mitchell had been sitting silently since they awoke and were brought back down there. Actually, he had been uncharacteristically silent since the previous afternoon. After these criminals humiliated in front of Sandra, his attempts to talk to her and try to win her back slipped away. For a while, he had accepted the end of his marriage; he had accepted that there was nothing he could do anymore to change her mind and win her back.

That was until he watched the fight between Slade and Jakarta like the rest of them had. Jakarta made it look so easy to take that animal down, he wondered why she and her partner did not push that small victory and take on the other two. But that wasn't so important to him. It stood to reason for him that he might have the same success Jakarta had against them. Then maybe he would prove to Sandra that there was something redeemable within him after all.

Since Slade had come to and Colton and D.K. went off to tend to the commuter shuttle, he had been watching that man with the damaged ego and his remaining sidekick with serious intent. His eyes searched and his mind churned over the individual moments and movements trying to gear himself up for what he knew he must do.

Slade eventually rose from his seat and circled around the counter. He placed his rifle against the stove and opened the refrigeration unit to explore his drink choices. With his back turned, Mitchell moved forward and took the seat next to Sandra at her table.

"What are you doing?" she asked him rather annoyed. "You don't still believe there's a chance for us, do you?"

"Shh," was all he answered with while his eyes remained on Nat. The boy had taken notice of his movement, but it didn't hold his attention. As soon as he looked back toward Jakarta and Sedgewick, Mitchell made a move.

The lovelorn ex-husband dashed across the dining area and dove onto the boy. Nat tumbled from his chair, his rifle slipped from his hands and bounced onto the floor. Mitchell, who had no fighting sense whatsoever, swung wildly with one hand while trying to grab the boy with the other. Nat was too surprised to fight back, and by the time Jakarta realized what was going on, Slade too had noticed and had his rifle so as to keep the little revolt from going any further.

After determining, the other prisoners weren't going to be any trouble, Slade turned his rifle toward the brawling pair. He took only the briefest aim before launching a single shot toward them, striking Mitchell in his side.

The stunned man dropped to the floor beside the boy who sat up, almost shell-shocked over how close that shot had come to him. As he processed what his partner had done, his eyes drifted Slade's way. It was as if to him, his partner didn't care if he lived or died as long as the fight was stopped.

Jakarta too looked on stunned. She wanted so badly to rush over and see if Mitchell was still alive, but that rifle barrel came her way as if to warn her off from even a humanitarian gesture. A piece of her wondered (though it was a very small piece at that point) if Nat was finally seeing what kind of people he signed on with – if he had seen how disposable he was, if not to D.K., then to Slade.

Down below, the shot from Slade's rifle did not go unnoticed. Enough space sat between the base of the cargo sections and the mess hall to dull it, but not enough to kill it altogether.

Mac was almost gone too. With no more passengers coming to await the transport to Certis (and no more hostages for D.K. and his crew), all Mac hung around for was a small resupply; nothing too big, just some water for his trip and a couple snacks to tide him over while he finished his rounds. It didn't take long to get him something from the cargo bays, but whatever was happening upstairs couldn't wait the few minutes it would have taken to get him on his way again.

"What was that?" the captain asked. "Sounded like a gunshot."

D.K. drifted slowly back to where his own rifle was hidden, and Colton knew he didn't have much time to convince his newest guest it was nothing.

"Jackie's workin' on the maintenance list," he lied. "I'd say she blew out a power juncture."

Mac scratched his chin, worried it might be serious.

"Need me to stick around a minute while you check on her? In case she has to get to a doctor."

"That won't be necessary," Colton tried to convince him. "Last time she did it, all she needed was a little burn ointment. Besides, you have passengers to shuttle about. Wouldn't look good if they were to miss their flights. If it is bad, I can always ask the central office to send an ambulatory shuttle."

"Are you sure?"

It was the one time in his life Colton rued someone for caring as much as Mac did. It certainly spoke to how strong a bond these people formed with each other out there in orbit, but still, it was not something he needed at that moment. He needed this man and his shuttle to leave so he could get up there and find out what was going on.

"Yeah, thanks for the offer though."

Mac scratched his chin some more, considering the situation as he perceived it. For as long as they had known each other, he had never known Colton (or Jakarta for that matter) to be anything but straightforward. If the stationmaster said he didn't need the help, then he didn't need the help.

Mac climbed back into his ship, and Colton and D.K. were off and up before the shuttle finished undocking. By the time they piled into the mess hall, Nat and Slade had already dragged Mitchell back to the prisoners' tables, and Jakarta was already looking over the wound.

The foolish man was back to awareness and wailing like a cat giving birth. The wound was not as serious as the prisoners feared, having only grazed his skin, but the damage to that skin was bad nonetheless. It hurt like nothing he had ever felt before, but from where Jakarta sat, it looked like he was hamming it up.

"What is goin' on in here?" Colton demanded, forgetting he wasn't the one in control.

"No one was supposed to get hurt," D.K. said to his men.

"This fool thought he was gonna be a hero," Slade explained with a bit of a smirk on his face. "He jumped Nat, and if I didn't take care of him, he might have gotten the boy's rifle."

Colton ignored half the story, rushing over to Mitchell and studying the wound instead.

"I hate to say it, but Slade's right," Jakarta explained to his partner. "I didn't realize what this idiot was up to 'till it was too late."

Colton looked over the wound, trying to determine exactly how bad it was. The flesh was burned away and the blood vessels beneath had been cauterized from the blast. At least he wasn't bleeding out, but that hole had to be cleaned and patched before infection set in.

"We'll worry about that later," Colton told her. Then he turned to address D.K. "I need some antiseptic and a dermal regenerational patch."

The outlaw didn't say a word as if figuring out how vicious a refusal he wanted to give.

"If I don't treat it," Colton went on, "he will likely die along with your plans for a peaceful escape."

That little reminder got to the boss. D.K. relented, taking the stationmaster away once more on his mission.

And with her partner gone yet again, Jakarta had no one to sound off to but Sedgewick.

"I'm afraid even after saving this man's life, our fates are sealed. Slade finally got his taste of blood and I'm afraid he's looking for another."

"That's even more reason to look forward to this master plan the two of you have," Sedgewick returned in the same questionable tone. Jakarta was angry at him again, wondering how much sarcasm lay in his words. And if she didn't have Mitchell's problems to worry about more, she might have snapped at him that time.

Chapter 12

"What did you go and do that for?" Sandra asked Mitchell. With the wound cleaned and the dermal regenerational patch doing its best to replace the skin, the others turned their attention elsewhere, leaving the injured man to commiserate in near solitude.

It was as he suspected though, his small act of bravery triggered some old, long-buried feeling within his ex. The betrayal stung as hard as ever, but his pain softened hers enough to put the fangs away.

"You were right," he told her, shifting in the chair to find a position that aggravated the injury least. "I've been a coward. Your life is in danger and I've let everyone else risk theirs for it while I've just been sitting here feeling sorry for myself."

"But I didn't marry you because I wanted some street brawler. I married you because you were sweet and kind and gentle, and at the time, I thought you were honest and trustworthy. All I really wanted from you, Mitchell, was to know you meant it when you told me you loved me. It was that man who slept around with my sister-in-law that I was ashamed of."

"You said - -"

"What I said," she interrupted, "I said to hurt you. Whatever you think about your chances, this marriage is over. Maybe I could forgive you someday, but I could never take you back. I would never put myself in that position, always wondering when you're not home if you're out there with another woman, always wondering if your eyes are looking past me to some other, prettier girl behind me.

"Trust is like a china doll, Mitch. Once it's broken, you can never get it back to the way it was. Sure you can glue it back together and make it whole again, but it will never be the same. Those cracks make it ugly and weaken it. And they constantly remind you of what broke it in the first place."

Mitchell had no answer for that. Her sudden tenderness gave him a slim hope that he had cracked through her anger. Though he had, it was clear risking his life was not even enough to win her back.

Jakarta had caught the end of their conversation and had a different take. "It might not be my place to say anything, but I was hauled in by a constable back in my younger, rebellious days. He told me mistakes are guideposts we otherwise wouldn't see had we not made those mistakes. They're not somethin' to destroy us. They're not somethin' we can't ever come back from. They're somethin' to learn from. They're the reminders of consequences. Mistakes show us those consequences so we don't make them again."

"Maybe," Sandra told her, "but if you made the mistake of leaving the outer hatch open down below when a ship leaves, how do you learn from that mistake after it kills you?"

"Mitchell here is not dead, and neither are you," Jakarta pointed out.

"Our marriage is," Sandra asserted.

"It doesn't matter much anyway," Mitchell cut in. "They're going to kill us when they have what they came for."

"Don't say that," Jakarta told him.

"Why not? It's true and you know it. I heard you say as much to Mr. Sedgewick. Look at me. Look at that man over there. Look at your face. They're growing more and more violent as this drags on. By the time they're ready to leave, they'll probably kill us just for the thrill."

He turned to Sandra with a bit of sadness washing over his small eyes. "I guess I've accepted this marriage is over. I guess all I wanted was for you to look at me with that respect we used to have for each other. I guess I just wanted you to be warm with me before our time is up."

"Mitchell, you can't give up just yet," Sandra begged him. "If these two thought for a minute that was true, they would have made a move. I seriously doubt these two are the kind to sit back and do nothing if their lives were truly in danger."

"Listen to her, Mitchell," Jakarta added. "She's right. If I thought for a moment my life was really in danger, well I'd rather go down fightin'. What I said to Sedgewick, I said for my own reasons. I know it's tough, but try not to worry. These criminals are more likely to let their guard down once the americium arrives. Colt and I always figured our chance would come at the end of this situation. Then the two of you will be free to catch the late day transport to Certis and you'll have the rest of your lives to figure out what kind of a relationship you want."

The young woman left the pair alone and returned to the conversations between Colton and Sedgewick.

"See?" Sandra told her ex. "They have a plan and we will get out of this. You just have to stop being so damn foolish."

"You should listen to her." This time it was D.K. eavesdropping on them and interjecting his thoughts onto what was supposed to be a private conversation. "If those two think they're going to play hero, they will end up flat on their backs. Only reason you're still alive, I understand, is because Slade didn't have a clean shot. I can promise you two, the next person who tries somethin' foolish won't be so lucky."

"You have a big mouth when you hold that gun on us," Sandra snapped at him, taking her turn at defiance.

It merely drew a laugh from the criminal boss. "The young lady over there thought the same thing about my boy, Slade. Oh sure, she whooped him in a fair fight, but Slade held his own. Watchin' that fight, I don't know how you could say he was all talk and no action.

"Thing is though, I'm not giving any more of you a chance to vent your frustrations. You can think what you want of me and my friends because it won't change the fact that we are using these guns to back our words."

"Is that what you say to your wife or girlfriend?" Sandra asked him with her deepest sarcasm. "Do you keep a gun on her so she can't express her own opinions or share her own thoughts?"

"I don't have anyone right now, mam."

"The way you're acting with us, I can see why."

"Stop teasing him," Mitchell whispered, but Sandra just ignored it, and D.K. found her attitude mildly amusing.

"Naw, let her ask. Might be good for her to hear this. Maybe she'll see her gender doesn't hold the lock on the fate of a relationship. You see, I was in love. She was a very pretty girl, but she was one of those who works in the clubs. Even knowin' my line of work, she thought I would be her ticket to a semi-respectable life.

"Thing is, I realized before it was too late that she was just using me. Her kisses lacked passion. Her 'I love yous' were a little flat. For a while, I just chalked it up to that life. I told myself it was that club and all the drunk, gropin' men who thought they were special. I figured all her passion was knocked out of her and if I gave her time and showed her she could trust me, she would melt and that spark hidin' behind her eyes would return."

"So what happened?" Sandra asked with only a slight interest. "You catch her cheating too?"

"I suppose you could say that, but not in the way you're suggesting. Thing is we talked about setting up a life together down on Durango. We had it all planned out. As soon as I found a big enough _opportunity_ , we would buy ourselves a little farm out in the fertile lands. We had the property picked out and everything.

"Then one day, I happen to find a pile of flyers in her bag. They were advertisin' towns and communities on worlds all up and down this sector. Not once did we ever talk about the possibility of settin' down somewhere else.

"I didn't want to accept it at first, but there was no mistakin' it. My girl was planning on leaving me and going somewhere else as soon as she was completely free from that club. When I confronted her about it, she didn't deny it. Instead she begged for me not to throw her out as if I was supposed to overlook the little fact she never loved me. Of course I did throw her out and she's probably workin' in that club to this day tryin' to find another patron foolish enough to buy her away from that filth."

"Maybe you're looking in the wrong places for love," Sandra suggested.

"And maybe you need to stop lookin' down your nose at the kinds of women and men who have no other choice but to work there. Not all of them are cheap floozies or manwhores looking to suck all the credits they can from the lonely suckers who go there. Everyone gets a rough break in life at some point, and that means doing things you're not proud of just to survive."

"I suppose it's easier to sympathize with the lowlifes when you're one of them," she snapped.

D.K. gave her a less than amused smile, and checked the time, looking for an excuse to back out of this conversation with grace. With the hour later then he expected, he had his excuse. He promptly turned from the broken lovers and called over to Colton.

"I thought you said that shuttle was comin' back in an hour or two. It's been almost four!"

"There's no need for Mac to stop if he doesn't have anyone transferrin' over here from the other depots."

"You didn't say anything to him you weren't supposed to, did you?"

"You were close enough to hear every word I told him. You shouldn't have to ask me that question."

"And yet I did."

And another tone brought the accusations to an abrupt halt.

"What was that?" D.K. asked nervously. "Is that your friend getting here late?"

Sedgwick spoke up with the answer. After D.K.'s comment about the hour, he checked his own watch and knew very well which ship was on approach.

"That's not the commuter shuttle, you fool. That's the americium."

Chapter 13

Standing at the airlock seemed so familiar with D.K. standing behind him, almost natural. Not quite thirty hours had passed since the arrival of his gang, yet they already felt like permanent fixtures to this station as much as his buddy Jakarta. The only new element to this waiting was the Drayton supervisor, Quentin Sedgewick.

Nursing his broken arm as a reminder of his part and the consequences for not playing it, he stood beside Colton, as close as he could be without so much as a centimeter of light between them. D.K. wanted them close in case they decided to try something, but this felt almost too close.

Yet Colton didn't need the broken arm or the other man in his side as reminders. All he could think about were the guns up in the gym where the rest of the players once more retired to, just in case the cargo crew wished to indulge in a meal after the burden of their haul had been lifted.

Colton had an image of Nat standing halfway across the gym, about ten meters from his buddy and the travelers, with his rifle ready to fire. Another image of Slade hanging from the ladder and listening for any sounds below that would tell him their robbery had failed – listening for any sound that would signal the execution of his prisoners.

He didn't have much time to think about all of that though for the panel at his foot flashed green to signal the ship had successfully docked beneath him. Colton opened the hatch and drew in a deep breath as the pocket of vacuum escaped into the cargo hold. The scent of burning metal was with it, and rather strong too. If ever Colton fully believed in the tales of omens and good luck, then this was the time he needed to smell that welcome scent.

The inner hatch opened and it wasn't long before the ship's pilot climbed up to greet the waiting party.

"Mr. Sedgewick," the young woman greeted him with all the pleasantry due a company supervisor. "I'm Jade."

"This is one of the station owners, Colton Wells."

Colton and the young woman shook hands. Jade gave him a slight smile with the greeting, but Colton had too much on his mind to return it.

"I suppose you're anxious to inspect the cargo," she turned to the boss.

"Actually," Sedgewick said, trying to muster the courage to go through with his part, "I'm here to take it."

"I don't understand."

"Evidence has surfaced that our communications are not as secure as we once thought. Word of this shipment has gotten out and the company believes every criminal in the sector will make a play for the americium. Mr. Drayton himself has instructed me to collect the americium and personally fly it to our buyer. You are to continue onward so the bad guys don't figure out we're onto them."

"I will have to confirm this, you understand."

"As I said, our communications are compromised. The outlaws will hear your confirmation and all you will accomplish is to tell them to come after me instead. The whole point of this transfer was to keep as few people as possible in the loop."

Jade thought it over for a moment. From her point of view, she had no reason not to trust Sedgewick. After all, he had been with the company almost as long as she had been alive. Like her and the crew with her, he was chosen for his role because of his loyalty.

She handed Colton the list of supplies she required for the trip, and returned to her ship to retrieve the americium while he filled her order. When she returned, she did so on the cargo lift with a sizable box resting at her feet. While Sedgewick and D.K. moved the box to the station's floor, she took out her data pad and brought up the receipt.

"I suppose all I need is your thumbprint," she told the supervisor.

Sedgewick took the pad a little too eagerly for D.K.'s liking and stopped him from recording that digital signature.

"Aren't you going to inspect the shipment first?" he asked his victim. "You know, to make sure you're getting what you sign for."

"Of course," Sedgewick agreed nervously.

Until his suggestion, Jade never questioned the presence of the third, mysterious individual.

"I never did get your name," she said to him.

"He's my security," Sedgewick interrupted. "His identity must remain classified."

"You can call me Bob, if you really want a name," D.K. told her with a pleasant smile. "I've always wondered what it would be like to be called Bob."

Sedgewick ignored his comment and opened the crate. Inside rest twenty smaller canisters with all kinds of writing and symbols on them, identifying the dangers and safe handling practices of the material inside. He seemed satisfied, but D.K. still was not.

"Aren't you gonna open them to make sure the stuff is in the canisters?"

"This particular isotope is highly radioactive," the company man explained. "In smaller doses it's not fatal, but there's enough americium in each canister to kill us all if I were to open even one. Trust me, it's in there. I can tell by the heat coming off those canisters."

D.K. finally accepted he had what he came for, so he let Sedgewick close the box and sign for the shipment. It wasn't much longer before Colton descended on the freight lift with the requested supplies. They were transferred to Jade's lift and lowered into her ship. As soon as the invoice was signed and the credits transferred, she and her cargo ship were on their way.

D.K. couldn't resist opening the box and holding one of those canisters in his own hands. Sure enough, the canister was warm like Sedgewick told him. It was like the heat from a kitten or a puppy except without the soft coat of fur. Still, the promise of money was all the comfort he needed from it.

"I suppose now you'll want to call your ship to come pick you up," Colton said, hoping to move things along.

Like Sedgewick, he knew the window was closing on his chance to stop this robbery. He figured that ship was only about forty minutes to an hour away, and once the americium and the three thugs were aboard, the cargo would be gone forever. Colton did not have the luxury of time anymore, but he could not make a move while Slade and Nat had their weapons on the others.

D.K. sighed, returning the canister and closing the box. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

Then he went to the nearest terminal and opened a channel. "Birch, it's time," was all he said.

With a wave of his rifle, he ordered the two men up the ladder to join their friends in the gym. After shoving them in, Slade and Nat descended the ladder, leaving D.K. to finish their business with the hostages.

"It was certainly a pleasure to see such cooperation from all of you," he taunted.

Colton and Jakarta both held their breath, waiting to see if this was where he would kill them all for their silence, or if he meant to keep his word and let them live. That rifle didn't budge, but D.K. was more focused on his free hand. With it, he closed the security panel to the gym. Both franchisees let out their stale air, but it was not over yet. They knew on the other side of that panel, D.K. was engaging the security seal, scrambling the code so they could not simply enter their own and escape before they were gone.

"Now what do we do?" Sedgewick shouted, throwing his one good hand up in frustration. "We're locked in here with no hope of stopping their escape."

"I don't know about that," Colton said, turning toward his partner with a smile. "Did you get to finish the maintenance before they got aboard?"

Jakarta saw his point and returned her own toothy grin. "As a matter of fact, I didn't."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sandra asked, wondering what all the mystery was about.

"The security seals on these lower levels were in bad need of maintenance," Jakarta shared. "We would have had them repaired by the time the shipment got here, except those idiots showed up first. We're not locked in here like they think we are."

To demonstrate the point, Jakarta went over to the security panel. With a firm push, the seals gave way and she was free to slide it open once more.

"Those fools gave us the opening we've been waiting for!"

Chapter 14

"You still have that pulse pistol hidden in your room?"

"Yeah," Jakarta answered firmly. "You?"

"Of course."

Jakarta was the first onto the ladder. She waited with her hands anxious for the climb while she listened for the commotion from the cargo sections below. From the sounds of it, D.K. and his men were already happily spending the money they expected to receive. Jakarta couldn't have been more pleased. As they weren't expecting the prisoners to breach the security seal, they weren't paying attention to anything that might seem out of place overhead.

Her hands reached for the next rung. Her foot climbed upward. As soon as she neared the crew cabins, Colton entered and began his climb behind her.

There was so much they wanted to say now that they were finally out of earshot of the criminals, but they couldn't take the chance their voices might carry. There wasn't much that needed to be said anyway. Both were professionals with a weapon, and they knew who the biggest threats in the group were.

On top of that, they knew who each wanted to take on. Colton itched to take out the man who followed him around, while Jakarta wanted a second go at Slade. Though she had bested him in the fistfight, something within her wanted to prove to him that he wasn't the master rifleman he imagined himself to be. She pulled herself up faster and faster with the thought of blasting that smug grin from his lips.

It wasn't long before the two reached their private quarters, all the way up, just one deck below the control center. And it didn't take long before each found their stashed weapons. Jakarta's lay snug behind a loose panel behind her mirror, while Colton's hid beneath the floor. His bed was unfastened at one end so he could lift it and remove a small piece of the floor beneath it. Since all the furniture was supposed to be secured to the floors or the walls, no one would have thought to lift the bed.

The pair met back up in short order in the foyer outside the cabins, their pistols charged and ready.

"Kill shots only," Colton said. "We can't risk takin' them alive."

But he didn't need to tell Jakarta. The rules of these matters were murky enough to allow them to mete out their own justice. Though there were many protests on Durango and other worlds whenever a criminal was gunned down during a criminal act, the constabulary respected the property rights of the victims. They knew when a killing was done in defense of a rightful property owner, and they looked the other way. As far as those protesters went, most of them were criminals themselves trying to build sympathy and establish a right to steal from others without the few repercussions that remained for them.

As they had climbed, so too did they descend. Jakarta led the way with Colton following her. Both of them knew Slade would be the most dangerous. D.K. might be the professional of the pair, but Slade was likely to open fire wildly, and that was far more dangerous to them both than a careful, measured shot.

They quickly reached the mess level and waited, listening to the voices below. D.K. and his gang were as boisterous as ever. Their voices were loud enough so that Colton and his partner could whisper their plans.

The cargo section went down nearly twenty meters. The center of the compartment was open, while the outer edge was divided into three distinct levels where all the supplies sat waiting for their turn to go out on some ship. All those crates and barrels and sacks offered all the cover they could want. The only problem was getting down to them for the ladder was completely exposed. If one of the thugs happened to look up, they would see the assault before the pieces were in place.

"I'm gonna have to fire from here," Jakarta whispered to her partner. At least I can take one of them out before they see us. And maybe it'll create a bit of a distraction for us to get down there while they figure out what's goin' on."

"Whatever you do," Colton warned, "don't hit the americium or we're all dead."

He wasn't sure if the pulse pistols would burn through the metal canisters or if those canisters were as sturdy as the walls of the station. Colton had no idea what kind of metal was used, but he wasn't going to chance releasing that radiation onto his station.

Jakarta brought her head below their floor to spy the criminals. Then the pistol came down. She lined up a shot, seeking Slade's head in the crosshairs. Her finger went for the trigger and rest against the thin strip of metal when all of a sudden the commotion below ground to a halt.

"Up there!" Nat shouted.

Jakarta squeezed the trigger, but Slade had already turned his head up to look. The shot went wide.

The outlaws drew their rifles and took a couple shots, forcing the young woman back up. Between their shots, she slipped the gun down again and let off a couple wild ones of her own.

D.K. waved his men back to seek cover behind a couple pallets of rice and cornmeal. The shooting let up for a moment, and Jakarta saw an opportunity to advance.

"Now!" she told her partner. As quickly as she could, she grabbed the rungs and removed her feet, swinging just enough so that when she let go of the ladder, she dropped and the momentum carried her onto the first platform when she fell. While she dove behind some barrels, Colton followed her lead bringing himself into the fight.

It didn't take long for the outlaws to reach cover, and the shooting began again almost before Colton dove behind a pile of crates. A shot hit the barrel covering Jakarta, melting the thick plastic and releasing the sandy mixture inside. Another shot landed on one of Colton's crates, burning the thin wood and pushing inward.

"We're gonna need more filters," he noted before moving to take cover behind something more sturdy.

Jakarta got a couple shots off when D.K. pulled back for cover. Hers struck the sacks, harming nothing but someone's future meals.

As Colton settled in behind a pallet of spare airflow regulators, he noticed a pattern to the outlaws' shooting. D.K. would push out from his position and let off two pulses. Then he would pull back and Slade would peek out to take two of his own. In between there was a second which gave Colton and his partner time to peek out for shots of their own.

But it gave Colton another opportunity. When D.K. fired off his shots and ducked for cover, Colton readied his pistol, but held his fire. Instead, he took aim at Slade's position and waited. As soon as that head popped out from behind those sacks, Colton made the slight adjustment necessary before squeezing his trigger. Slade got one shot off, but it missed. Colton's shot however did not.

Nat turned his rifle on Colton's position, continuing to fire with impunity, while D.K. chose to take his next shots in that direction as well.

From her perch, Jakarta found herself ignored for a moment. Like Colton, she steadied her pistol against the side of the barrel and waited. When D.K. peered out to take his next shots, she opened fire.

Unlike with Colton, D.K. surprised her by taking his shots her way. She hesitated, allowing him to get both shots off, but he only needed one to graze her shooting arm. Jakarta tumbled behind the barrel, stunned.

"Are you all right?" Colton asked her.

"It smarts, but I'll live."

"Good. I need you to draw their fire."

"Why? What are you gonna do?" she asked him nervously.

"We need to split up. Give them two targets to worry about instead of one."

"I thought we were doing just fine."

"Your arm says otherwise."

He moved back to the ladder as Jakarta took up the pistol with her left hand. She wasn't used to using that hand, but she had practiced so it wasn't totally foreign to her. It meant shifting to the other side of the barrel and looking down at the two remaining outlaws from a new perspective.

As she opened fire, Colton jumped down the access point, spreading his feet wide enough to catch the next platform. Nat lowered his rifle to target the new position, but Colton was already behind a stack of titanium sheets used for patching holes in the hulls of ships. The incoming weapons fire landed harmlessly on the metal, but Colton's gambit paid off. Both Nat and D.K. had two different positions to worry about.

Up above, Jakarta took advantage of Colton's distraction. She stabilized her pistol once more while D.K. worried about her partner. Taking her time, she made sure his head was centered in her sights, and just when he pulled back his rifle, she squeezed the trigger before he could pull his body back. The man went down the same way Slade had.

"It's over, Nat," she called to the boy, hoping there was still a chance he could be dissuaded. "You don't have to go down like your friends. You can still walk away from this. Throw down your gun and come out of there."

"No," he called up to her. "If I give myself up, you'll kill me too. If not, you'll throw me in jail and I'll have a record doggin' me. It is too late for me; there's no backin' out now. As soon as Birch docks, we'll take the americium and I'll only have to split it with him."

Jakarta glanced downward to that little panel on the floor beside the docking hatch. The little red light turned green, and she knew their ship had docked. It was a long ways between Nat's position and that hatch, but all the boy needed was a little luck and his haphazard plan would prove true. She and Colton had only seconds now to either convince him to surrender or stop him from running.

"You're wrong, Nat. You'll never make it to that hatch with Colt and me covering it. You'll never get that chest onto your ship before we both gun you down. Only options waitin' for you are death and life...life and death. And the choice is yours, Nat."

Down below, the hatch in the middle of the floor gave way, exposing the ship beneath. Within a moment another man, the fourth player on their team, rose into the cargo hold unaware to the gunplay unfolding. The man they called Birch only knew of the chest resting beside the airlock that was supposed to contain their prize. As he reached for it, Nat called out to warn him, but he was too late. Colton opened fire and killed him before his hands ever landed on that box.

"Unless you can fly that ship by yourself," Colton called to the boy, "you're out of options."

After a bit of silence from the young outlaw, he finally conceded. "I'm coming out."

Jakarta rose from behind her barrel and moved to the edge of the platform, her pistol still aimed in Nat's direction. Her partner went for the ladder and climbed down to apprehend the boy, keeping his pistol aimed over his shoulder in a difficult descent.

Nat stepped out from behind the pallets of grain with the rifle pointed upward in an act of submission.

"Drop it," Colton ordered. "Nice and easy."

The boy made as if to comply, but when he had the barrel of his weapon level again, he swung it as quickly as he could toward Colton. Both of the stationmasters opened fire and both hit the target. It was impossible to tell who made the kill shot, but all that mattered was that Nat joined his three friends in death.

The hostage situation was over. The robbery was foiled. The americium was safe, and the reputation of Depot-14 remained intact.

Chapter 15

Jakarta drew the lot to take D.K.'s ship and the four bodies down to Durango to the appropriate constable, leaving Colton behind to clean up the mess on the station. The tall man adjusted his Stetson as he looked over the mess that had trickled down through his cargo hold in the firefight. Though his partner jokingly questioned his ability to have it all cleaned up before she returned, Colton was determined to prove her wrong.

It wasn't long after he found a broom that Mitchell approached him.

"Excuse me, Mr. Wells."

"Please, call me Colt," he told him with a smile. "I think you have that right after everything we've been through."

"Okay Colt, I was wondering if I could secure my cabin for another night."

"I thought you were headed to Certis with Sandra to try and patch things up. I thought things were lookin' up for you two."

Mitchell fidgeted as if sharing a secret he wasn't supposed to. "Yes, they were looking up. After all of this, she's willing to talk to me. She's willing to remain friends as long as I don't push it any more than that."

Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It took getting kidnapped and shot in the side for me to see what I fool I was. I ruined my marriage too much to fix it. By chasing her up here and begging for a second chance, all I did was look like all those other desperate fools who couldn't accept they threw away the one good thing in their lives. I've come to accept this divorce as the only outcome for what I did to her. I suppose I'm just grateful she's willing to leave on some sort of friendly terms instead of hating me for the rest of our lives.

"Anyway, best thing I can do is let her go in peace before I ruin what little we have left. I'm taking the next shuttle back to Durango to figure out where to go with my life."

"That's probably for the best. Just because you lose one love doesn't mean there aren't others still to find. You're young. There are a lot of young ladies out there who would be glad to have someone like you."

"I suppose."

"Just remember to hold onto the lesson of this mistake. When you do find the next Mrs. Right, don't ruin that by sleepin' with her sister or her sister-in-law."

"Maybe the real lesson is to make sure that sister isn't the real Mrs. Right."

When Colton took in Mitchell's small laugh, he laughed too with the joke. As inappropriate as it was under the circumstances, the failed lover was just lucky Sandra hadn't been there to overhear it.

Still, from the business side of his operation, Colton was glad to hear of his decision. Another night in that cabin meant another twenty credits in the account plus whatever he spent on meals. With the mess D.K.'s gang left behind and all the food they ate for free, he and Jakarta needed every credit they could get to cover the loss. Sure they had insurance, but there was that deductible to recover, not to mention the damage to their rates such a claim would inflict.

He took the broom and headed across toward those scorched sacks of rice and cornmeal. Seeing how many sacks had been hit made him realize how much more target practice the two of them needed. To fire at the same target over and over again, he and Jakarta should have hit the same sack with each blast. Instead, their grouping looked almost as if it belonged to that boy Nat. Each sack represented five to ten credits gone, most of that unnecessary if their shots had been truer.

While he swept, Colton watched Sedgewick who refused to leave that crate of americium. His company's cargo ship was on its way back to retrieve the cargo and was due within just a few minutes, but that man would not stop inspecting the canisters for damage.

Colton certainly understood his fears after how close he just came to losing a quarter million credits in product. With that much money at stake, it surprised him now how calmly Sedgewick handled himself when convincing his people to hand the stuff over to him. Something suddenly felt funny as if he had one of those itches that could not be found. It was like feeling the sensation at the base of a finger only you knew the source was somewhere else and you couldn't figure out where.

Colton stopped sweeping and carried the broom back toward the company supervisor.

"I can't stop thinkin' about somethin' you said earlier," he said.

"Oh? And what was that?" Sedgewick asked curiously.

"When you were givin' your people the story, you said your communications were compromised, that the outlaws were listenin' in and markin' your shipments."

"I just said that to be convincing," the man told him. "I needed a reason to keep her from calling the office and that was all I could come up with."

"Maybe," Colton said, leaning on the broom and pretending to think over something. "But how did D.K. know your company was sendin' out that shipment of americium in the first place? It's not something you ship every day. It's not like D.K. could study your ships' movements to learn when it was going out.

"And how did he know it was passin' through my supply depot? Our dealings are kept secret between your company, me and my partner, and the central office. There could be a leak on our end, but we didn't know what your shipment was until you came and told us. That gang knew more about it than I did."

"What are you saying, Mr. Wells?"

"Seems to me like there is a mole in your company, someone who's feeding information about your most valuable shipments to anyone willing to pay."

Colton looked to the sling around Sedgewick's arm, and it occurred to him that no one else had seen the man tortured for his cooperation. He was taken off in private where only he and D.K. witnessed that little "lesson." It occurred to him that sling might have been fake, that his arm was not broken after all, rather it was all a ruse to cover a part he may have played in it all.

"Hypothetically speaking," Colton went on, "I suppose you might have a regional supervisor with twenty Durango years under his belt with Drayton. Maybe he got passed over for a promotion recently or maybe he thinks he should have been transferred to a better territory. Whatever slight he might have suffered, it's possible this aggrieved supervisor decides to take his compensation another way."

"Are you accusing me?" Sedgwick asked him. His tone was colder, but his voice remained calm. If Colton expected him to crack under the accusation, Sedgewick certainly wasn't giving him the satisfaction. "You did hear them talk about splitting the haul four ways, and there were four of them."

"It's purely hypothetical," Colton reminded him. "I suppose this mole isn't takin' a full share. After all, that much money wouldn't go unnoticed, but a one-time payment of, say, five thousand credits flies beneath everyone's radar."

Sedgewick nodded his head with a chuckle. "Yes, I suppose hypothetically that could be true. But if I might speak hypothetically, suppose D.K.'s gang had been causing trouble for Drayton Atomics for some time now. Suppose that criminal has cost us so much money, Mr. Drayton himself is willing to do whatever it takes to eliminate him. Would it not be conceivable that we arranged to have our americium pass through a supply depot with a reputation for _eliminating problems_? All we would have to do is tip the gang off to this fact and sit back and wait. After all, you and your partner kept our americium safe as promised, and that gang won't trouble another ship ever again. Hypothetically speaking of course."

Colton had no other response to that but to smile. Whatever he might have suspected about Sedgewick's possible involvement, he could never prove it. Since the man was right about things playing out exactly as the two franchisees promised, that second version of events did seem the more likely.

Long after Sedgewick left, accompanying the americium, and Sandra left on her flight to Certis, Jakarta returned on the commuter shuttle, the same shuttle taking Mitchell back to Durango. One bit of good news to come out of the robbery attempt was that the constable deemed D.K.'s ship to be her property since she and Colton had killed the outlaws, and she was the one in possession of it. It didn't take long to sell it on the planet, giving her enough to cover the losses incurred during the situation with a few credits to spare.

She was anxious to share the good news with her partner, but Colton tempered it with the suggestion Sedgewick left him with.

"You're sayin' he used us as bait?" she asked him, unable to believe it even though it came from her best friend.

"I suppose the americium was the bait. We were just the anglers stuck reeling them in."

"People never cease to amaze me," she muttered, shaking her head. Suddenly, she froze as a new thought took over. "They did pay us for the stop, didn't they?"

"Oh yeah," Colton told her. "We got our money."

With that she broke out into her widest smile yet. "Then what's the problem? There's four less criminals in the universe, Drayton moved their americium, and we turned a tidy profit. If that's what it takes to make money, then I for one welcome another robbery attempt."

Colton laughed at the thought. "I suppose so. Just for next time, we better make sure the maintenance gets done so we don't get caught with our pants down again."

Jakarta joined in on the joke before Colton handed her the list of the day's maintenance, leaving himself as the only one laughing.

Author's Notes

I think to be fair, I have to admit that Depot-14 is sort of fan-fiction for an old western called Laramie. In the past couple years, I've found myself increasingly watching these old westerns as they increasingly crop up on TV. Shows like The Rifleman, Laramie, and Dick Powell's Zane Grey's Theater harken back to a time when television was episodic. You didn't need to watch a series from episode one to enjoy it; you could pick up any episode and watch it without any knowledge of what transpired in previous episodes.

Don't get me wrong, I really enjoy the more serialized storytelling we've been seeing in the past fifteen to twenty years, but sometimes you just want to watch a one-off show without having to get fully invested.

One thing though that does get to me with current TV storytelling is the constant need to turn every project into a full-blown romance. Again, sometimes I don't mind it, but other times it does bother me and I don't need to see it. This tends to occur when you get a series that's painted as something like a police procedural and somewhere in the second season, the powers-that-be decide the two partners should hook-up. After that decision, the police procedural fades away and the series gradually moves to a pure romance.

Gotham is a perfect example of this. First season, we get a wonderful show about Jim Gordon solving crimes involving the future Batman villains. In the second season he's moved on from Barbara with Lee, and after that the crime solving gets less and less airtime and the show has become the Jim-Lee romance hour.

Maybe you're thinking I'm exaggerating a little, and I probably am, but Supergirl went on a similar path. First season sees her fighting some exciting DC villains and by the end of the season, she and Jim Olsen look to be hooking up. I'll admit I haven't seen much of the second season since it moved to the CW, but the couple episodes I have caught present me with a series the manages to address that romance in just a few minutes of the episode while leaving the show primarily superhero vs. super villain dominant. To me, Supergirl is an example of how to balance the romantic tale with whatever genre you're presenting yourself as.

I think what bothers me more than anything else about these romances is when the coupling is completely inappropriate in real life. For example, if you've seen Fringe, we enter the first episode with Olivia having a "relation" with her partner, John Scott. Both individuals know this relationship is prohibited and all her coworkers give her the eye when it comes up. Not only do the writers know this is wrong when they created it, but they compound it when she falls for one of her next partners, Peter, and they spend five seasons moving them toward a coupling. Stargate always walked this line in suggesting a romance between O'neill and Carter, but in their case, not only is it against regulations, but it's doubly inappropriate because he is her commanding officer.

Again, I don't have a problem with a love story in the scope of a science fiction show or a superhero show, or whatever, but sometimes, like episodic storytelling, I just want to see a buddy piece. That takes me back to Laramie, a western about two buddies operating a stagecoach relay station on their ranch. It's sort of like The Rifleman (about a guy just trying to raise his son), except that there's this humorous bromance between the two main characters, especially since the concept is a modern one and this show ran from '59-'63.

I know the concept of doing a sci-fi version of a western is far from new, but I suppose I decided to take my turn at it. And more so, thinking about this particular story, I had an idea to do a series of completely standalone stories.

It seems the biggest trend in Indie books is to write that series with the same characters in the same setting, and as much as a lot of people complain that these are more serials than series, they remain more popular than one-off books. If you've seen some of my other work, you've probably figured out that I prefer writing the one-off tales. I talked Freedom Reigns as an attempt to do a series and it became more serialized than I wanted. While I was happy with the finished product, I was not happy that it had become more serial than series. It was why when I tackled my next massive project, Dione's War, I scrapped the idea of a multi-part release and wrote it as a single, massive epic tale. Even when I tackled the prequel to my hit USS Krakowski, I wrote it as an independent story. Are There Heroes In Hell? occurs a full generation before Krakowski and the only connection is that Krakowski makes mention of the war in Heroes, and has a character whose father was a veteran of the war.

To be fair though, Prisoners of Utopia has the potential to become the first of a series, and I did try to tackle a sequel to Dione's War before abandoning it for this story, but otherwise, I'm more comfortable writing standalone fiction. Maybe that's why I so readily jumped on this idea of Depot-14. Though I twisted the idea of a buddy tale by making it a mixed gender partnership, I promise you Jakarta and Colton will not become "more than friends." That's not to say there won't be romance within the series for those of you that love that sort of thing, but I will treat it in sort of the James T Kirk kind of way where it's always with a one-off character that shows up in their lives and in the end things go back to the way they were and everyone is free to pursue a new romance later.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I like this concept of small, yet personal stakes. That's probably what keeps future episodes from being credible. In many of my prior books, the stakes are high - usually the potential destruction of Earth or something equally cataclysmic. If I wrote sequels to those works, the question is always how to raise the stakes higher than that and remain credible. With Depot-14 I realize the stakes are never higher than solving a murder or foiling a robbery - stuff like that. Stakes remain high enough for the characters and the drama of the tale, but they're never so high that I end up with a ridiculous threat just to one-up a previous tale.

I knew setting out, this was going to be a series of novellas rather than full-sized novels, however reading this tale through during my first editing phase, it struck me how fast moving the whole thing is. In my opinion, it doesn't get weighed down too much with the info dumps. Everyone's mini-story gets sufficient time. Though it's not a deep tale, it felt fun to me. As I plowed through the first draft I was afraid the tale got bogged down, but it didn't seem to be the case to me when I took it as a whole.

One thing you might notice is that I discuss some things without explanation. There is talk a few times about the "clubs" that exist on the planet, and they mention something called "the scout." Because I want readers to be able to pick up individual tales as they please instead of feeling forced to read it "in order," I had to resist the urge to explain everything in this first tale. The scout will come up in the next tale and it will receive proper treatment there, and while I have no plans to visit the "clubs" in the first four tales I plan to write, I do want a tale eventually that deals with them, and that will be where they are described in more detail What I didn't want was for this first story to be a sort of bible that you had to read before taking up another - everything gets described in its proper time, but that doesn't prevent the occasional references to give a feel that there is more to their universe than the individual tale. I'm not sure if that makes sense to any of you, but it makes sense to me.

I guess what it all means is that I like to buck trends. I know they're trends for a reason, but when I read another author's works, I want to read their story. If they get inspiration from someone else, that's fine with me (after all, if you follow me and have read the notes on some of my other books, you know I do draw heavy inspiration from other sources), but if I want to read something very much like Harrington's Honorverse, I'll read something from the Honorverse series. If I'm reading your book, I want to see your imagination on display - and that's my approach to my works. Depot-14 might be inspired from an old western, but it's my take from my imagination, and I hope that's what you the reader take away from it. If not, then I'm sorry I failed. If so, then I hope you're kind enough to leave a review (Yes, I know, gratuitous begging for that review).

Anyway, if you're looking for a sign of the next tale in this series, I'm struggling with a title (my current favorite is Broken Sabre), but the story itself will center around Colton's arrest for murder based on strictly circumstantial evidence. It will be up to Jakarta to find the real killer and her search leads her to a series of characters all vying to obtain a rumored treasure map. Finding the killer means finding that map, but with someone willing to kill for it, she may not survive the quest long enough to free her buddy.

Also By J.J. Mainor

The Depot-14 Series

The Americium Shipment

Best friends Jakarta Jones and Colton Wells own and operate one of fourteen supply depots in orbit around the planet Durango. Today proves to be a bad one when an armed gang boards the depot, taking them and their clients hostage while they wait for a cargo ship carrying a valuable load of americium. To keep the hostages alive, the pair must bide their time and wait for the right opportunity to strike back. But as the cargo ship grows ever closer to the station, can they find that opportunity, or will they lose the americium?

Broken Saber

When Colton goes down for murder, it's up to Jakarta to find the evidence that will free him.

Family Vengeance

After returning home to settle the estate, Colton learns his father's death was murder. Now he must fight his own desire for revenge to avoid becoming a murderer himself.

Crash Landing

A security job turns into a fight for survival when a passenger ship crash-lands on the hostile world of Hen. While Jakarta struggles to defend the survivors, her biggest threat may not be the natives.

Revenge With a Kiss

Jakarta falls for a traveler Colton doesn't like. Are his feelings justified, or is it a case of simple jealousy?

The Freedom Reigns Series

The Siege of LX-925

In the early 23rd century, four nations dominate interstellar travel. Their programs have remained a mystery to the people of Earth, including their own people, and the UN wants to know why. Previous inspectors have yielded little insightful information. Dr. Remy Duval is the latest to venture into the unknown.

The Republic Ship Freedom has been ordered to remove a group of defiant miners from the dead world LX-925. As Remy marvels over the advanced technology at the crew's disposal, he quickly understands the horrific downside to these wonders. Risking everything, Remy schemes to bring a peaceful end to the standoff before it escalates into genocide.

The Vorman Insurgence

Broken and humiliated, Remy Duval must play the defeated prisoner to the sadistic Colonel Freedom while he plans his escape and return to Earth.

The Colonel and his crew are after answers to the uprising on LX-925 when new orders send them to TL-311, a planet recently conquered from an alien race called the Vorman. Half his lieutenants are sent down to the surface with their own teams to test their leadership. The mission: to seek out and eradicate any Vorman that remain behind.

With half the staff remaining behind, Remy expects to get his chance to take over the ship and make his escape...until Colonel Freedom sends him down to the planet with Lieutenant Anders. When things couldn't get any worse, they find out too late there are more than just a few Vorman waiting on the surface.

The introduction to Hell is over...now it's time for Remy to burn.

Subject D-20

When the Acerna threaten an Independent Union facility, the RS Freedom is called in to extract the Republic's liaison. During the mission, Remy Duval witnesses the most heinous act yet, and decides he's had enough. With a new ally by his side, he takes advantage of the growing chaos to attempt a mutiny.

Aliens get aboard, a spy runs loose, and to top it off, Major Sadile's medical experiment, Subject D-20, escapes the medical bay; the sadistic Colonel may be the least of Remy's worries. But one thing is certain: failure means the end of the road for the UN inspector.

The Fifth Fleet

With the Freedom under his control and repairs nearly complete, Remy Duval and his small crew of rebels find their plans to return to Earth placed on hold when a Vorman ship discovers their location. His old friend Sake seeks peace, but determining his true intentions will expose everyone's secrets and betrayal. However it will be the Republic's largest secret, the Fifth Fleet, that threatens all his dreams of peace.

Freedom's Wake

Remy Duval's one chance to save Earth lies in navigating the Freedom across a deadly patch of concentrated radiation known as the Crucible. His sanctuary lies in a hidden dimension while the ship travels unguided. But when a race of mechanical beings slips aboard and threatens their plans, Remy and his crew must suffer exposure to repel this new menace.

Target: Earth

The race is on! Remy Duval must rely on every trick and tactic picked up during his long ordeal if he expects to stop the Vorman attack on Earth, but first he must deal with his own demons and the nagging fear that to win the day, he must sacrifice the last bits of his own morality. In the end, he may be more like the monsters he spent his life prosecuting than he cares to admit.

The Timberlands Series

Timberlands: Blood and Prey

After witnessing his brother's death and fleeing from the killer in the woods during a camping trip, Gunner returns to the remote timberlands of Northern Maine with three friends to recover the body. He feels he's ready for the killer this time, but he's not ready for the surprises the forest hides.

Timberlands 2: Fatal Friendships

A real estate agent selling the timberlands finds eight trespassers searching for their missing friends unaware that the curse of the timberlands has transformed one of those missing friends into an angry killer.

Timberlands 3: Inferno

A team of hotshots move into the timberlands to battle a wildfire, but they march straight into a grudge match between two killers battling for dominance – and bodies!

They Knew

An ancient race called the Oegyein once ruled this galaxy, but today, very little remains of their empire. Most of what we know is the stuff of legends and myths.

When Tau Bello discovers an ancient ship floating in the cold emptiness of space, it proves to be but the first clue in a treasure hunt that promises to unravel those legends and myths. It is a hunt that attracts a lot of unwanted attention, and for some, those promises are worth killing for. Tau quickly discovers the real treasure may not be untold riches or vast scientific knowledge, but his very life!

Dione's War

A generation after the Vandals wiped out Earth's population, a tenuous peace has settled in between the Vandals and the few survivors to have escaped Armageddon. Many of the refugees have accepted Vandal rule as Loyalists while the rest have held onto some sort of independence in the Opposition Colonies.

Dione Pafford lived with her parents as Loyalists, mining their tiny and desolate moon. While on a survey mission to a previously unexplored corner of that moon, she discovers the wreckage of a long-crashed Earth warship and its lone survivor: Jack Corbitt. It is a discovery that upends the peace and finds her people once more hunted by an enemy who has grown too powerful. To survive extinction, Loyalists and Colonials alike look to Dione as the entire conflict becomes her personal war.

The Greenburg Timelines: Prisoners of Utopia

Cole Greenburg wanted nothing more than to see his father one last time before his deployment to Iraq.

Jessica Fulton was a semester away from earning her doctorate in astrophysics and attaining a promising future with NASA.

Michael Greenburg was close to completing his life's work on his theories of multiple universes when his device sent the trio out prematurely, leaving them to wander the alternate Earths aimlessly.

Their one hope to get back home and resume their normal lives lies with a world more advanced than their own.

On an alternate Earth where the Ancient Greeks still rule and Natives still dominate the western world, technology has placed society on a course for self-destruction. Their hope lies in expansion and Michael's hopper promises to open up new worlds. In exchange for access to other, uninhabited, alternate Earths, the Greeks offer a path home; but as the group realizes this advanced world is not the utopia they believed, and the people are not the altruists they presented themselves as, Cole risks everything to fix their mistakes while his father tries to open the door for them to leave before their time runs out.

USS Krakowski

Disgraced Lieutenant Jace Modeen takes a team aboard an alien drone ship for what should have been a routine mission of study and discovery. But it quickly becomes his chance to demonstrate his leadership and redeem his past mistakes when he learns the ship heralds a larger attack force with a world-shattering origin.

Are There Heroes In Hell?

The long-awaited follow-up to USS Krakowski!

Nearly 40 years before Jace Modeen and the USS Krakowski saved the Earth, the Arctic Wars dragged the world's nations into a conflict so brutal, old friends become enemies, and old enemies become monsters.

USMC Lance Corporal Jackson Freebourne served on the front lines before his position was overrun and he was captured by Canadian forces and sent to an icy prison. If the elements don't kill him, the guards might, and the only chance for survival involves keeping his head down and staying invisible. But it is hard to stay invisible when torture and death are the rules of the day.

Compared To What

Hades Garden is a small town in legal limbo. It has become a safe haven for criminals looking to start over. As long as you're in town, state and federal law can't touch you, but break the laws of Hades Garden and you're out

Dale Ridgewick comes to Hades Garden with the cops on his tail and a bagful of cash in his truck. Trying to start a new life, he buys a house, finds a girlfriend, and gets a job. But when a workplace rivalry threatens the peace he seeks, Dale harnesses his dark past to wage war, unaware his nemesis harbors his own deadly past.

Plantation

A murderous ghost stalks the guests and staff at a bed and breakfast.
