Origins: The Complete Series

by J. N. Chaney

  I only knew any of that because I’d checked in the dead of night. I needed a way into those buildings, but there just wasn’t one I could take without being noticed—and, more importantly, recorded.

  There was only one goal right now: to watch who went in and who came out of the apartment complex catty-corner to the café.

  I was waiting for my mark, though he had yet to show. I’d been told he had powerful friends, but that didn’t worry me too much. I’d dealt with powerful people before and had been successful, so it was hardly a deterrent.

  A thin ribbon of steam rolled off the surface of my coffee as I cradled the mug between my hands. Hopefully, the shopkeepers—and whatever security guard was watching the cameras—wouldn’t look at me and think I was scoping out something to steal.

  I scanned the faces of passersby on the promenade before glancing upward to the open glass ceiling. The dark nothingness of space stretched on, and every now and then I would catch a glimpse of the blue marble planet we orbited.

  But I wasn't here for the scenery.

  I had to be careful not to stare at the apartment complex I was scoping out, since I was fairly certain this coffee shop was owned by a prominent crime family on the station. A stranger hanging around for a few days, frequenting the same shop—I had probably already drawn attention, but I’d be out of here before they could guess what I was up to.

  After all, I didn’t want any of their people, just one of their associates.

  I wanted Zacharias Decker.

  A bounty-hunting gig, of all things. I still didn’t quite know why the client wanted him. And I didn't usually take bounty jobs as a general rule, but the work had slowed down recently and this was one of the only postings Ollie could give me.

  Besides, Decker was a grade-A piece of shit. Murderer, rapist, criminal. His record was worse than most, so much that it was a wonder he was still walking around. He’d weaseled his way out of every arrest to date, although the details on how were vague.

  He’d also run trafficking rings, been involved with drug cartels, and was responsible for starting a prison riot that had ended with most of the guards dead and the block in flames. I’d even seen a recording of him aiming a pistol at a young boy about four months ago.

  And still, Decker was alive and free. Somehow.

  Not much was certain out here in the Deadlands. People stole, shot, and tortured each other if it suited them, depending on the system and the world. It was full of morally grey folk, many of whom were just trying to make a life for themselves, and plenty more who were honest as the day was long. I couldn’t claim the latter, but I liked to think I had my limits on immorality.

  The same couldn’t be said for Zacharias Decker.

  I had been tracking him for a few days now, trying to find an opportune moment to strike. It was tough, seeing as this station was heavily populated and had little in the way of private areas to apprehend someone.

  Decker had heavily armed friends on this station. When I took him, I had to do it before anyone noticed.

  The security forces—such as they were—looked the other way, sure, but the crime families didn’t take kindly to a stranger stealing one of their business partners. I would have to be subtle, but I’d done my homework. I knew how to get him out of this place unseen.

  So long as he didn’t know I was here.

  According to the file I’d received from Ollie, Decker had more contacts and resources than most, and he’d be able to vanish in a heartbeat if I wasn’t careful.

  A guy like this had a habit of disappearing when he realized he was being hunted.

  Over the last few days of scouting the station and studying Decker's habits, I'd discovered he usually had an entourage of finely dressed lackeys armed to the teeth. It didn't matter where he went—his apartment, the clubs, or the bars around town.

  He always had company.

  The only time he went anywhere alone was when he went to or from one of his girlfriends’ places.

  It seemed like he preferred to keep those matters to himself, which was good for me.

  With a growing tension in my shoulders as I continued to wait for my mark, I stared at the high-rise’s door through the nearby window. It wouldn’t be long before he left, and unless this place had a secret exit I didn’t know about, he would have to step out onto the promenade at some point. Hopefully soon.

  It was a risk, this waiting. If he was tipped off about my arrival and if my intel was wrong and there really was an alternate route, then I’d have to start my search all over again.

  But that possibility was a small one, and I had no reason to think he knew I was here.

  And yet, still, no one had left the girlfriend’s apartment.

  I almost didn't take this job. Not because of the money. That part was solid. He was a high profile mark, and the client had a large wallet and a vendetta to fill. The problem was that Decker had connections, which could mean trouble later. That kind of risk had deterred others before I finally picked up the job, but it wouldn’t stop everyone.

  Clearly.

  The listing had suggested Dead or Alive with a preference for breathing, but if things got dicey then I wouldn’t hesitate to put him down. There was a pay cut for a corpse, so I’d certainly try not to put a bullet in his skull if I could help it. I even had a nice chair in the cargo bay prepared for him, complete with handcuffs and shoulder straps.

  I brought the coffee to my nose, closed my eyes, and indulged myself in a moment to simply inhale the warm and soothing aroma. I had to admit it tasted better than anything I'd had in a while. The machine on the ship kept breaking, and I hadn't been able to find one for a suitable price since Calista stole the coffee machine right out from under me back on Taurus Station. I'd probably have to cave and overpay for one eventually, but my pride always got in the way each time I was about to transfer the credits.

  Pride aside, I could afford it now that I was debt-free. The Star was paid off, and I’d even managed to build myself a bit of a reputation. There were quite a few clients I worked with regularly, whether it be for petty theft or revenge on their fellow rich people.

  It was hard to believe it had been four years since I’d bought the Star and three since I'd started working with Ollie. It was the longest run with an agent I'd ever had.

  I adjusted in my chair and, out of habit, set my hand on the shiny new pistol in the second holster on my waist. It was a splurge I'd gotten for myself when I’d finally paid off the Star, but I'd kept the revolver Calista gave me four years ago. I hadn't heard much from her and had no idea what she was even doing nowadays.

  Renegades weren't sentimental. It went against the lifestyle. Calista wasn’t going to send me any birthday greeting cards or call me to play catch up anytime soon, and I never expected her to.

  And she likely expected the same from me. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t be there for her if she ran into trouble, of course, but I had a feeling she’d prefer to handle her problems on her own.

  As I let out a sigh, I turned my attention again to the apartment complex across the promenade.

  If Decker didn’t come out of there soon, I’d be tempted to go in and drag him out and into the streets.

  A moment later, something in my periphery caught my attention. The front door to the complex across the street opened, and much to my delight, Decker finally walked out.

  The criminal cast a wary glance around the street and popped his collar before he walked away, mingling with the crowd.

  It was a face I had memorized from the dossier and could pick out fairly easily. People often ran, and it was my job to track them. The mark had to look as familiar to me as family. Or better, in most cases.

  Now was my chance.

  I left my drink on the table and slipped out into the promenade. My long coat hid the guns on my waist as I stood, and I could feel the weight of the restraints I’d brought in my back pocket.

  I was never one to let a paycheck get away from me, no mat
ter what it took.

  As I eased my way through the sparse crowds along the promenade, I kept my eye on Decker’s head. He was a short distance ahead, and I wanted to keep it that way for now. I needed to find a place where I could pull him aside, somewhere no one would see.

  From the reconnaissance I'd done so far on the station, I knew there was a network of maintenance tunnels that almost no one ever went into. If I could drag him into one of those, this would be over.

  I kept a fair pace behind Decker, just enough to go unnoticed without losing sight of him. His head bobbed above the crowd, easy to spot despite all the people around us, and I let myself occasionally look at the shop fronts we passed to avoid staring directly at him.

  Every now and then he would look over his shoulder, but I kept my distance and never made eye contact, all while keeping him in my periphery. In the span of ten minutes, he did it three times, suitably paranoid given his background.

  There was a chance he had spotted me, but since he was alone, it didn't really matter.

  Ahead, the entrance to one of the service tunnels appeared around a bend ahead. It was nothing more than a circle in the wall, just tall enough for me to walk through, but it led into a labyrinth of tunnels that stretched as deep into the station as a man could go.

  With my hands in my coat pockets, I stretched out the tension in my fingers, preparing for a fight.

  Here we go.

  As we neared the service tunnel, I walked just a little faster—not enough to be noticed, but enough to close the gap between me and Decker. I casually wove through the people around me, drawing nearer to my mark with each passing second. If I was careful and timed it right, I'd be able to shove Decker into the maintenance tunnel and no one would be the wiser.

  To my surprise, Decker darted into the maintenance tunnel all on his lonesome. He didn't even look over his shoulder as he walked into it, and I hesitated as I reached the entrance behind him.

  This smelled like a trap.

  Pressed against the wall beside the tunnel, I knew I looked suspicious to anyone who might have been monitoring the surveillance of this area. The people in the crowd walked past me, not much caring what I did, so at least I had that going for me.

  The tone of this capture had shifted, and now I faced a choice: walk into what had to be an ambush, or let my mark disappear and risk weeks of wasted effort to find him again.

  As the hustle and bustle of the street swarmed around me, I peered around the corner and into the tunnel. It was dark, with only a few dim bulbs along the wall to light the way. Footsteps echoed down the corridor, and a shadow crossed the wall as Decker rounded the first corner.

  Trap or not, I wouldn’t get a better chance to snag him. He was a lowlife from the Deadlands—he probably thought he was untouchable, and he was about to find out what it meant to go up against me.

  I followed Decker into the corridor and drew my pistol as I left the populated promenade behind. The air shifted, suddenly colder as I walked deeper into the tunnel.

  The footsteps continued, and I cocked my ear to listen. They echoed, steady and unwavering. As I neared the first corner, I peered around it in time to see Decker dart around yet another bend.

  I was losing him. It was a warren of corridors back here, and I didn’t have time to memorize every route. As the chattering hum of conversations faded, so did the echo of Decker’s footsteps.

  Just like that, it was quiet.

  I walked toward the next corner, trying not to catch up too fast and tip him off. A lumbering guy like Decker wouldn't be able to go unnoticed or unheard, so he had to be around the bend, waiting for me to simply step into his view and let myself be shot.

  But I wasn’t some rookie, and this wasn’t my first time tracking some idiot down a winding corridor.

  Slowly, I moved closer to the corner, mindful of my surroundings as I kept my breathing steady and my eyes sharp. Nearing the turn, I raised my gun to what would be his shoulder-level.

  But my mark was too impatient to wait.

  Decker took a step into my line of sight and opened fire into the empty air above me. As the gunshots echoed in the corridor, I let off two shots of my own, aiming for his shooting arm. One bullet missed, sailing past his head, but the other landed in his right shoulder.

  Decker staggered and cursed, and the gun fell from his hand as he stumbled backward.

  In one fluid motion, I stepped forward and brought my fist around to plow into Decker’s face. As terrible of a human as he was, I still needed to bring him in alive, but the job details didn't say anything about not breaking his nose and maybe a bone or two.

  Decker cursed as he teetered backward, and I landed another punch hard in his sternum. It knocked the wind out of him, and he doubled over.

  On his way to the ground, the bastard grabbed my collar and dragged me down with him. We fell hard, and my head smacked against the concrete floor. A brief dose of pain ran through me as my skull went numb, and I lost my grip on the pistol and it slid along the floor.

  Decker took advantage of my daze and yanked me up. I only had a second to look at him before his fist struck me hard in the nose. I tasted blood as it trickled down my cheek.

  I grabbed his arms and pushed, twisting my hips as I did, and brought him around. He tried to strike me again, but a quick sidestep sent him to my left and away from my head. I wrapped my arm around his neck and brought the back of my fist into his nose. No break, but I was sure it hurt like hell.

  Before he could break free, I dug my finger into the bullet wound in his shoulder. He screamed.

  The sound of his pain echoed through the empty corridor.

  I drew my revolver and aimed it at his temple. “Stop, asshole!”

  He raised his hands, still breathing heavily, and I let him go. He winced, cursing under his breath as he turned around and went still when the barrel of my pistol pressed into his forehead. “I'm going to slit your throat.”

  “That'll be hard to do if you’re dead.”

  “You just wait,” threatened Decker, staring me down. “I'll gut you and tie your corpse across the front of your own ship.”

  “I can see why you have so many girlfriends,” I said. “That's quite a winning personality you've got. Now shut the hell up.”

  Decker’s eyes darted toward the gun and back to me. “What are you going to do? Shoot me?”

  I shot him a grin that told him I might be tempted to do just that if he didn’t shut his mouth.

  Decker spit more blood, this time onto the floor. “There have been too many bounties on my life for me to count. I have people running around cleaning them up, but I guess I need to shoot somebody for missing this one. Usually, you have to bring me in alive so they can kill me, right? So, which planet’s responsible for this? Which fuckwit wants me dead now?”

  “I don't figure it matters much,” I told him, giving the gun in my hand a little wave.

  Decker laughed. “You won't lose your bounty by shooting me now. I have you by the balls. Get the hell off my shoulder.”

  “I've seen your dossier,” I told him. “And you're hardly worth all the fuss of taking you in.”

  It was a bluff, of course. He was right—I had to bring him in alive, but he didn’t need to know that.

  To his credit, the criminal refrained from replying. His grip on my ankle tightened, like he wanted to break my bones, so I pressed harder on the wound in his shoulder to remind him who had control of the situation.

  I didn’t have to wait long—after a few tense moments, he raised his hands above his head.

  “Good boy,” I said with a smirk.

  “You're in deep shit,” warned Decker, a glint in his eye I didn’t care for. “You're in deep and you don't even know it.”

  “Sure I am,” I said, familiar by now with the most common threats his type made when they lost. “Roll over onto your stomach.”

  Decker begrudgingly obliged me and rolled over. I grabbed his hands and tugged them behind his
back before pulling out the cuffs and locking them around his wrists.

  “I mean it,” said Decker, his cheek pressed against the floor. “You're not going to get out of this alive.”

  “That's what everyone says,” I said with a snicker before tugging him to his feet. He teetered, grimacing as the bloodstain on his shirt grew bigger. To keep him from getting any ideas, I trained my revolver on him as I picked up my pistol and holstered it again. I grabbed his gun and shoved it in my back pocket.

  He sure as hell wouldn't be getting it back.

  I had already memorized a few routes through the back tunnels to discreetly get this guy to the Renegade Star without anyone else noticing.

  The last thing I needed was someone else coming after me.

  2

  When landing the Renegade Star in the station’s docking bay, I had strategically picked a spot near one of the maintenance tunnels. It wouldn't have done me any good to walk through the crowded port with a captive held at gunpoint. Even in a place like this, people would take notice.

  I had to be cautious, slip back inside my ship, and leave discreetly without anyone realizing what I’d done.

  I took a moment to appreciate the fact that I’d apprehended a criminal who usually had a team of bodyguards and access to what had to be a fairly sizable stretch of underworld connections throughout this system. Despite my success, getting Decker back to my ship was probably the dangerous part of the job.

  I paused by the tunnel exit and surveyed the docking station walkways as I gripped Decker’s collar from behind to root him in place. I’d decided in the tunnels to holster my pistol and use his own gun against him, and I pressed the barrel against his spine as I scanned the empty docking platform.

  With a second or two to spare, I took a moment to wipe the blood off my face with my sleeve. I’d probably missed some of it, so I wasn’t sure it would make me look any less suspicious, but it was worth a shot.

  The muffled shouts of men in the distance caught my attention, but from the sound of it, they were too far away to notice me. The rumble of machinery vibrated through the ground, but I couldn’t see anyone from here.