Amok and Enderheim watched tiredly as the 5 man Dwarf team wrestled the next star core material plate into position. Once in place, they placed four rivets, one at each corner, in holes previously drilled in the girder making up the outer shell. Four hits with a massive hammer, and the plate seated itself in the groove.

       Enderheim took up position on one side and Amok on the other. They each held a glass rod. Kneeling down, he positioned the glass rod over the seam between the two plates and called forth Power to channel down the rod and weld the two plates together.
Amok was exhausted. Beyond exhausted. In the past three months, he'd passed out to the point of needing a Healer to revive him. Welding the plates together required enormous amounts of Power. It took a dozen Dwarves to fuse the plates.

       Enderheim was in as bad if not worse shape than Amok. He kept at his task out of sheer stubbornness. He would not let Amok see him quit. Amok would not let Enderheim see him stop. It was a rare game they played on these occasions. Neither would give.
The Healers sat inside, fretting and worrying over the teams outside.

       Amok felt his Power gutter low and fizz out. The glass rod stopped glowing. Amok dropped the rod and sat back, his palms going to his eyes and rubbing them for a moment. With a deep sigh, he picked up his weary head and looked around. He caught a glimpse of movement at the low point of the arc of the station. Someone was approaching. He looked at Enderheim.

Enderheim had stopped fusing and was staring with a hangdog look at Amok. He glanced past Amok and saw too that someone was approaching. He stood up slowly and walked over to where his chair was sitting next to a cooler. He opened the cooler and took out two red sports drinks. Lobbing one to Amok, he sat slowly in the rickety chair, watching the slow arc of the sports drink in the low gravity.

       The one approaching turned out to be Stanton, riding an ancient, battered-looking A/G cycle. He was wearing a giant pair of old brown boots, with the legs of his dirty coveralls stuck down inside. On his head he wore a retro cloth hat; the same kind the pilots from World War 1 had worn, along with a pair of goggles that had several lenses arranged alongside. Around his neck was a ridiculously long white scarf streaming behind him.

       The old cycle vibrated and clattered to a halt. Stanton reached down in the bowels of a maze of wires and pulled something. The turbo thruster wound down with a wheeze.

       "Where in the world did you find that thing?" Amok was grinning. "and where did you get that go to Hell hat? You rob the Steampunk Museum?"

       "Found her, sir," Stanton was beaming happily. "Way down in the very bottom of the core stack in a storeroom. They left her, sir, with a note. It's from the old maintenance crew."

       He drew a piece of paper from one of his pockets. He unfolded it and read, "To ye who so shall find," he chuckled. "It's the old maintenance crew, all right. We used to make notes like this all the time." he looked down again, " To ye who so shall find. We hope this valiant steed serves you as well as she did us."

       "Valiant steed," Enderheim snorted. "It sounds more like an infected washing machine."

       "Please, sir," Stanton took on a pleading tone. "You'll hurt her feelins'. She's vera sensitive," He took a rag from his back pocket and began to shine a part of the frame. Paint flaked off and dropped to the pure grey plates of the station.

       There was a moment of stony silence, and then all three broke into laughter.

       "So, what's going on?" Amok asked, wiping his eyes.

       Stanton bit his lower lip. "Well, everyone is down except the two of you. Three dwarves are unconscious, and all the blacked robed ones ran out of whatever it was and left. They said they would be back when they could." He shrugged.

       Amok shook his head, taking a swallow from his drink. "How far did they get?"

       "50, maybe 70 a day for the first week. Then everyone started running out of mojo, so to speak, and we rotated them for two more weeks. With what you and he did, we have 700 plates done. 725, maybe?"

       "700 out of 19000? Three weeks?" Enderheim made a tiny moaning sound and buried his face in his hands. "Just kill me now."

       "Too easy, sir," Stanton grinned sardonically. "We could take turns running you over with this baby, though," he patted the A/G cycle affectionately.

       "Yes," Amok sighed heavily. "When I saw this station sitting here, I was on my ship and didn't get very close. I didn't realize that this station is over a kilometer in diameter. There's a lot more to it than I thought."

       "It takes about 1500 engineers 3 and a half to 4 years to build a station like this. We can work a lot faster, not needing suits, and the like but still. About 60% of the systems we will use are going to be rebuilds of what was there."

       "The rest is all tech that no-one but you and the Dwarves knows about sir and; well, all due respect sir, but the dwarves," he hesitated. "they can get a little confused if you put too many tasks on them."

       "So what do you think?" Amok asked a little guardedly. Seeing Stanton's expression, he smiled ruefully. "Tell me. We need this up and running yesterday," he said. "Tell me what we need to get it done. Don't worry about my itty bitty little feelings."

       "Just two things," Stanton spoke seriously. " We need hands. Lots and lots of hands. Hands that know what to do. I think we need an engineering company to help. At least with the hookups of communications and some other systems. There are tens of thousands of wires that need to be connected. We can get some people in here that know how to get it done."

       "And the other thing?" Enderheim sat forward in his chair with his head down, his elbows on his knees.

       "Welders," Stanton shook his head. "I've never seen a plate like that. Laser cutters don't even heat it up. It takes about a dozen Dwarves to weld plate as you and he do. It takes 4 of the black-robed ones to do what one of you can do. Both teams move at about half the speed you do." he shook his head grimly. "At this rate, we might get it done in about 5 years."

       Amok rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment, deep in thought. "Okay," he said distantly. "As of right now, everyone is on extended rest for the next two days." He looked up. "except for us. Get your shuttle ready and take Enderheim with you."

       "Enderheim, if you would please," he said wearily, yet respectfully. "Would you please make sure that Scotty here has all the money he needs? I know it's going to be a lot, so just cash in that chest of Jadeite. When he finds the people he needs, we will set up a temporary site to site teleporter to save time. Get the Mercenaries to guard it. If they don't like it, tell them that there is always plenty to do here."

       "I would love to," Enderheim said. "Anything is better than this. What are you going to do?"

       "Try and figure out how we can get all this finished faster," Amok replied. "Call in some favors, I guess."

       "I would think they would be happy to help, sir," Stanton said, scratching his ear with his gloved hand. "Seeing as how it's their backsides we're covering."

       "Yeah, well," Amok frowned. "It seems our colleagues didn't find Enderheims little dust-up as humorous as we did. Nahl is telling everyone that we have both become decadent and immoral. He says anyone who comes near will become victims of the humans' "infectious culture." None of my postings have been answered."

       "We may as well get going," Enderheim stood slowly. "Is there room on the back of that bullet with no brakes?"

       "Oh aye sir," Stanton fairly radiated pride as he indicated a small seat and bar going up for the passengers back to ride against. "Right here on the bitch rack sir,"

       Enderheims' right eyebrow shot up. "The what?" he grinned suddenly.

       Stanton looked up, his eyes wide, "I'm sorry, sir," he said, bowing his head a little. "I didn't mean anything by it. They have been called that since they had wheels, sir. That's where the bitch rides, as they used to say."

       Amok started to laugh, "Hurry up, bitch," he called to Enderheim.

       Enderheim took the affectation of great dignity. He looked around in his most regal manner and regarded Amok laughing. Slowly, in clear, concise tones, he said, "who are you calling bitch? Bitch."

       Amok didn't reply, he just continued to laugh all the harder. Enderheim gathered his robe and cloak and tried to mount the A/G cycle. His robe wouldn't stretch across the seat, so he sat on the machine sideways. Amok howled with laughter at the spectacle. Stanton glanced back and grinned nastily, touching something that sparked deep in the cycles innards.

       The turbine roared to life. A smoke ring belched 50 feet. Stanton twisted the throttle, and the cycle rocketed away. Enderheim lost every shred of his mock dignity as it took everything he had to keep from being thrown off. His shouted curses along with Stanton's roaring laughter could be heard till they disappeared over the arc of the station.

       Amok watched them go with a grin, taking a sip from his drink. He sighed and picked up the glass rod he'd been using to channel his Power to weld the plates. After a long moment, he set the glass rod back in the cradle. He was too tired to do more. He started to sit down when he felt a vibration at his wrist.

       Amok touched the D-Space communicator. He saw the face and shoulders of a young man in his early 20's.

       "We've got one," he said simply. "Coming into 131."

       "Turn the shield bubble on to maximum," Amok replied tightly. "Gather the others and keep them safe. Do nothing unless they attack you directly. I will be right there."

       Amok turned to his right. His ship appeared from under its cloak. Amok slid in the seat and started up the rest of the systems. He sat for a moment with his eyes closed for a moment, savoring the silence.

       Once the power core came to maximum, Amok used Enderheim's new locator system to pinpoint Colony 131. He hit the activate button. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the power core flash. Amocks eyes flew wide with shock and horror as the ship leapt into space.

       The ship entered and exited D-space, hovering a foot off the ground of the planet the colony was on. Amoks heart skipped a beat as he realized what just happened.

       Amok shook his head and grinned shakily to himself. This was another one of Enderheim's little jokes. He'd told Amok about the new navigation system but didn't say anything else. It was almost a passing comment. But Enderheim had known that the first time Amok used it, it would scare Amok half to death. Undoubtedly, Enderheim was sitting somewhere snickering right about now. Amok would have to devise an appropriate response, hopefully when Enderheim least expected it.

       The colony gate stood open. A cargo shuttle sat just less than 100 feet away. 4 men, wearing various pieces of mismatched battle armor, stood with pulse rifles guarding the shuttle.

       Amocks ship was cloaked, and the guards couldn't see him. Amok sat staring at the guards for a few moments, an enigmatic expression on his face. Finally, with a deep sigh, Amok targeted the cargo shuttle and drained the Power Core of every last erg of energy.

       One of the guards put his hand to his ear and turned and looked up at the shuttle. He tapped his helmet.

       Amok teleported and rematerialized about 15 feet from where the 4 men stood. Without a word, all 4 men fell to the ground as one.

               Amok walked through the gate of the colony. The grounds were deserted. The settlement consisted of the main building where people slept and ate. The building also served as the communications center. Beneath this building, Enderheim and the Dwarves had placed the shield bubble control mechanism.

       There was a warehouse where bulk goods were kept for use or for sale. The smallest of these buildings was the utilities and maintenance building. Here was where they kept the power plant generator and water pump.

       Amok had balked at the shield generator. Amok had argued with Enderheim that if the humans took it apart and figured out how it worked, that they could be used as formidable weapons were one so inclined. After some careful modifications, the new units had been made as tamper-proof as possible before they had been installed.

       The door to the utility building stood open. Amok could hear the sounds of voices from inside, raised in pitch from their arguing.

       Amocks Elf Boots masked the sounds of his approach. Just before he stepped inside, he touched something at his throat. Amock vanished from ordinary sight.

       Walking inside, he saw 4 men in military-grade battle armor. Another man in a dirty, stained, white lab coat, holding his blistered hand and trying not to hop up and down.

       Silently, Amok moved around one guard and positioned himself between the Power Core and the 5 men. He touched the clasp at his throat and appeared before them.

       Instantly, all the guards raised their pulse rifles and pointed them at Amok's chest. Amok ignored the pointed weapons and smiled easily. "How's it going, gentlemen?"

       The man in the white coat looked startled. "Wha?" he blinked. "Who are you?"

       "I am Amok," Amok replied. "I'm the General Manager of the E & A Supply Company."

       The man smiled nastily. "Just the person I'm looking for," he said and pointed to the Power Core. "Deactivate the defense system and disconnect it NOW."

       "But if I did that," Amok blinked innocently, "that would leave the colony without power."

       "Before we leave here," the man replied in a cold voice, "these "colonists" will be without a lot more than this Power Core. They are going to pay dearly for this disrespect."

       The man stepped back and motioned to the guards. "Convince him to shut the Power Core down."

       Reversing their pulse rifles, they moved as one, clearly intending to club Amok into submission. They took one step and froze.

       Amok, holding the four men in place, hadn't taken into account how much power it took to hold this many. His recent exertions on the station had depleted his reserves. He felt them slipping.

       Then a strange thought hit Amok. Why was he being so nice? He released them and set off fireballs inside their heads. They dropped to the floor stone dead.

       Feeling more rage than he had in some time, Amok sent a touch of force against the man in the lab coat. He went flying backwards against the wall. He tried to get up and crawl away. Amok went over and grabbed him by the scruff of his lab coat and hauled him outside. His Power may be guttering low, but he was still much stronger than most humans. The man dragged behind like a sack of potatoes, his arms flailing.

       Amok dragged the man about halfway to the main building when a man, wearing the black robes of a Mercenary, appeared. He looked down at the man at Amocks feet, a mild expression on his face. Slowly, he raised his eyes to settle on Amok, one eyebrow slightly raised. "Everything okay out here?"

       "For now," Amok stared down at the man with the eyes of a viper. "The four guarding the shuttle are dead. The four escorting this fool are dead." He pointed towards the shuttle. "There are four more barricaded inside the shuttle. Kill them and throw them out.

       "Isn't that a little..." he frowned. "Barbaric?"

       "Excuse me?" Amok dropped the man in the lab coat and put him to sleep., "what did you say?"

       The Mercenary, whose name was Dreyvlin, shifted uncomfortably under Amocks astonished stare. Nevertheless, he continued. "Killing these people... is wrong." he looked confused. "Isn't it?"

       "You have been living here amongst the colonists for some time now," Amok remarked. He pointed to the man lying before them. "Compare this one to them. Look close. What do you think would have happened to the colonists had we not been here to stop them."

       Dreyvlin squatted down and touched the man's hand. Slowly, the young Mercenary skeptical expression suddenly changed to one of surprise, then a coldness seemed to come to him. He stood up. His eyes smoldered dangerously

       "They can't hurt us," Amok said coldly. "But they can hurt humans and they will if they can. Killing the colonists is wrong. Killing such as these, however, is avenging those they have violated in the past."

       "I see now," he said nodding. "I will do as you ask."

        Amok scowled. "I'm not asking. Since when do I have to stop what I'm doing to explain my instructions? Question my orders again, and I'll put you back. Hesitating in a situation like this can get us..."

       There was a whistling sound and a bright white flash. The ground shook crazily.

       Dreyvlin staggered and almost fell. Amok took a step back to better brace himself and looked up. He shook his fist at the sky.

       There was an angry, tearing sound. A yellow blaster beam, as thick as a strong man's arm, ripped and tore at the blue aura of the shield grid. There was a terrific fountain of sparks leaping and falling.

       Amok tried to shout over the noise and gave up. He just pointed towards the cargo shuttle and turned, sprinting for his ship.
In less than a minute, the pirate ship came into view. This was no freighter or another industrial vessel that had been converted, but a dedicated warship, bristling with armament. Its nose pointed towards the planet, and the yellow beam from her primary weapon descended into the atmosphere below.

       Amok dialed up the cutter weapon and used it to silence the blaster. He swung around to get a better angle at the propulsion system. Fingers flying, he dialed up the Total Conversion cannons to its lowest setting. He put his finger down to fire when he saw a green light come up. He stopped. Was he being hailed? Seeing the colony was out of immediate danger, he responded to the hail.

       The bridge of the pirate ship swam into view. There were seven men in various tactical positions on the deck. The Captain, dressed in the outlandish style of a swashbuckler from days long past, sat in the captains' chair.

       Amok disliked him immediately. His dark eyes were full of intelligence and cunning; his expression was set in a practiced sneer.
His eyes widened only the barest amount when his Ob screen lit up with the face and shoulders of Amok.

       "So," the Captain spoke precisely and eloquently. "The one and only Amok deign to show his ..." he hesitated the barest moment. "face. Where is the other one? What's his name? Enderhole?" he shrugged. "No matter. Perhaps you can explain the loss of 8 ships and crews over the past 2 months."

       "My associate and I have taken over the supply contracts for all 307 human colonies," Amok replied in a flat voice. "From now on, we will be taking care of their needs. That includes their defense. Your little reign of terror is over. I suggest you all get day jobs." he smiled faintly.

       The Captain frowned. "The only reign of terror over is your own. If I lose one more ship and crew, I will detonate the hundreds of planet buster null bombs I have planted at all of the colonies. If you fire on this ship, they will detonate, as well as the 60 women and children we have onboard here. I suggest you find a different job of defending the colonies."

       "Well, well," Amok spoke mildly. "We seem to have ourselves a ... what do you call it? A stalemate?"

       The Captain's eyes were flat as he asked. "How do you figure that? I'm holding the whip. I have the colonies sewed up. What do you have?"

       "I have your eight crews," Amok wiggled his eyebrows slightly and smiled. "they are currently in the gentle care of a species we call the Hundred. Big red guys," Amok put his hand high above his head.. "Real strong. Impervious to weapon fire. Angry as all Hell? Perhaps you've glimpsed them in video logs tearing the limbs off your men."

       "You lie," the Captain spat. "They are dead. The other one, the one we call Enderslime or whatever the Hell his name is, killed them without so much as a word. I saw their bodies stacked up like cords of wood."

       Amok smiled evilly, "Now, why would I lie?" he spoke slowly, savoring each word. "When the truth is so much more entertaining? The Healers reconstructed your men and brought them back to life. They are used as" Amok paused and waved his hand airily as he sought the right phrase, "training dummies" for the Hundred."

       The bridge was silent as Amok continued, "It gives me great pleasure to tell you this in front of your men," His easy smile dropped like a mask. "As their Fates are the same. As for you, Captain, I will give your still-living severed head to the Gnome toddlers to play with for the next ten thousand years. If anything happens to the colonies, I will fly this ship to Wolf Zero and pound it till there's nothing left. You have seen this ship in action. You know I can do what I say, but it need not be this way."

       "I'm listening," the Captain said in a neutral voice.

       "We have the contracts for the colonies," Amok shrugged a little. "But we have no agreements with anyone else, namely the corporation freighters and transports. Who knows? If the casualties were kept to a minimum and the crews returned to civilization, this ship might just pass you by. If you want to raid cities on established worlds, I have no objection to that. It has been a time-honored tradition for 2 thousand years." Amok pointed at the screen. "But if I have to respond to one more distress call from the colonies, I will not rest until every last one of you is gone."

       "Those targets are heavily defended," the Captain shook his head slightly. "An operation gone wrong costs us more than we get. No, we will not stop raiding the colonies. We never take more than they can give, and we leave them relatively unharmed."

       "It looks like we have agreed to disagree," Amok said in a deliberate tone. "Fine. How will you have it then? A nice, big, basketball-sized hole through your bridge, or will you stand down and await a Patrol I will have sent here? Your choice," Amok sat back with a grim expression.

       The Captain made a cutting gesture, and Power was cut to the Ob screen. Amok sat up, looking out into space once more. He scowled and reached for the main weapon of his ship. Before he could press the firing button, the pirate ship moved off at max speed and entered D-Space. Amok cursed and reached for his scanner. He saw movement.

       Amok frowned as he looked. It took him a precious second to figure out just what he was seeing. His eyes flew open in horror. A cargo container, containing several of the hostages floated before him.

       His speaker crackled to life with the voice of the Captain, filled with evil satisfaction. "You have time to either rescue the hostages or come after us. I would remind you I have more hostages and plenty of containers."

       Amok used the gravity beam to grab the container. He pointed the ship towards the planet and eased on the speed slowly. The hostages would be crushed if he just grabbed the box and pulled it with too many G forces.

       8 minutes later, Amok teleported out of his ship and stood next to the cargo container. It had been locked with a simple padlock. Amok looked at it, annoyed. What was the point? He focused on the lock for a moment, and the lock sprang open.

       Amok sensed a tremendous buildup of energy. Eyes wide, he teleported to his ship with the last of his Power. There was a bright white flash.

       When the dirt settled and the smoke cleared, Amok exited his ship surveyed the carnage. Now he understood why Enderheim didn't answer any hails. Parlaying and trying to reason with the pirates was useless. Any time they gained from talking was used for cooking up nasty tricks like this. Amok kicked a piece of metal, and a small white doll was beneath. The tiny hand of the owner still clutched the doll. Amok felt his blood rise.

       Dreyvlin materialized a few steps away from Amok. His face was grave as he viewed the cargo container.

       The cargo container had burst open from the inside out. It looked like it had been pried open with a giant can opener. There were bits of flesh in a circular line around the edge of the shield grid, along with chunks of burnt, jagged metal. The shuttle had been knocked over on its side from the force of the blast.

       "This is very bad," Dreyvlin said, his voice quiet and subdued. "How do you want me to handle all this?" he indicated the general area.

       Amok closed his eyes for a second in an attempt to calm himself. His words were curt and clipped when he replied.

       "Get the Dwarves to come and pick up all this metal. Clean up this mess and bury the bodies. Get humans to help with that. They may want to hold a service for them."

       "You don't want me to get the Healers and see if we can bring all these poor people back?" Dreyvlin looked slightly confused.

       "The humans must not know we can do that," Amok replied, frowning.

       "Well," Dreyvlin said, looking over the ruined landscape, "You can't win them all, I guess," Dreyvlin said, throwing up his hands and dropping them.

       Amok scowled and pointed. "How do you figure that? Our job is to protect the colonists. Are the colonists safe?"

       "Oh, Yes," Dreyvlin nodded. "I gathered them all up and got them under the shield grid as soon as I saw the pirates coming in."

       "Then we haven't lost anything," Amok said, eyeing the burst container angrily. "All this," he indicated the wreckage all around them. "Is what the humans call 'collateral damage.'"

       Amok fixed Dreyvlin with a hard stare. "You can't win them all is a human saying. We are not human, and that fatalistic mindset is where the failure lies." He pointed his finger at Dreyvlin in a stabbing motion. "We have to win them all. If we lose, people die. Do you understand?"

       "I think so," Dreyvlin rubbed the back of his head and looked skeptical. "What will you do about this? Just let them go?"

       "I didn't say that," Amok raised an eyebrow and clenched his fist. "Tell your brothers what happened here. Do not become too friendly with the colonists. Doing so can interfere with your decisions if the situation becomes truly desperate."

       "I understand," Dreyvlin nodded. "Thank you for this lesson." there was a trace of sadness in his voice as he said, "The humans aren't really like us at all, are they?"

       "In some ways," Amok said quietly. "The humans are the most alien race I've ever encountered. The depths of depravity ones like these are willing to sink to defies rational thought."

       "I know it isn't my place to say," Dreyvlin looked away and towards the main building where the colonists awaited the all-clear from him. "But those people need to be punished for doing this. I don't think I could let them get away with it."

       "You would not be here if you felt any different," Amok said. "Make sure you bury the bodies of the pirates in a different spot than the hostages. The humans would not like the thought of the pirates and the people they killed buried in the same place."

                                                                           ...........................................................................