Depot-14 The Complete Series

By J.J. Mainor

Collects all 10 stories in the Depot-14 series!

Jakarta and Colton own and operate a supply depot franchise, but how can they run their business when the universe seems to be against them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.J. Mainor
• Release date: Mar 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463855003

J.J. Mainor

I can talk about my characters and stories far more easily than I can talk about myself. The best way to learn about me is through those stories. Writing primarily science fiction, I enjoy worlds and universes that aren't so black and white. Every story has something to say, and every message is not as straight-forward as it seems. We tend to boil ourselves down and define ourselves according to neat labels, whether by race, gender, political identity, or whatever; and the truth is, we're more complicated than that. I try to write worlds and characters that reflect that complexity and diversity of belief.

Book preview

The Americium Shipment

Chapter 1-1

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 1-2

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 1-3

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 1-4

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 1-5

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 1-6

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