Origins: The Complete Series

by J. N. Chaney

  The sleek barrel glistened in the strip of light overhead, its impossibly perfect surface without so much as a scratch. Either this woman had never been in a fight before, or this weapon was brand spanking new.

  I grabbed it and raised it to eye level, squinting as I peered down the barrel at the door to the hallway. It was an older model, but from an expensive collection, and I wondered how she could have afforded it.

  An engraving along the butt of the gun caught my eye, however, and I twisted the weapon to inspect it.

  To my Renegade, it said.

  I frowned. So this was a sentimental gift I’d stolen from her. I’d thought it was just another gun.

  For a brief and fleeting second, I debated tracking her down to return it, but that sounded like a hassle. Besides, an inscription like that could get her killed in Union space.

  If anything, I was doing her a favor.

  A weapon this fancy would fetch a pretty credit on the black markets, and I rolled it between my hands as I debated whether or not to keep it.

  Seeing as I’d just made a few new enemies in Max Ventrose’s camp, perhaps it was best to remain as armed as possible. Even if there was a damning inscription on it.

  “Pardon the interruption, sir,” interjected Sigmond. “I have a response from Mr. Ollie Trinidad.”

  “Already?” I whistled under my breath. “That was quick.”

  “He says he has a job for you, sir, and recommends you visit him as soon as you’re able. He insists it’s urgent.”

  “Yeah, aren’t they all?” I muttered. “How quickly can we get there?”

  “It will take travel through three Slip Gap Points for us to arrive at Taurus Station,” replied Sigmond. “We should arrive within two standard days.”

  “Two days isn’t bad,” I mused. “Get us the hell out of here, Siggy. I want to put as much distance between me and Max as possible.”

  Taurus Station was huge. At twice the size of most the others I’d seen, this place had everything from hotels to indoor parks to sleazy markets, and that meant it attracted a lot of attention.

  It also attracted a lot of money, and that was the part I cared most about.

  It was at least fifty decks high and as wide as some of the smaller moons I’d seen. This towering inferno of a station had enough docks to refuel, house, and repair a fair number of ships.

  One of the best things about it was the fact that the Renegade Star was just another ship in the chaos. No one flagged me. No one scanned me. No one cared. I was anonymous, and with so many people running around, moving cargo, shopping, and whatnot, it was easy to blend in.

  The perks came with their own share of risk, of course. Despite the tempting anonymity, word among the Renegades was that the Union was renting office space somewhere in the station, so there were often Union officers running around. I wasn’t wanted at the moment, but that didn’t mean I wanted a run in with them either.

  I leaned against a railing with one leg propped against the fence behind me as I studied Ollie’s shop. I didn’t like going into things blind, and I wanted to get a feel for the man before I showed my face. We’d interacted before, but now that I was considering him for an agent, caution seemed prudent.

  Ollie’s shop boasted floor-to-ceiling window displays on either side of two tall doors, both of which sat open as tourists funneled by. Most of what I could see through the windows looked like polished trash, but maybe that was because I knew his scam. He had twisted metal sculptures designed to look like miniature replicas of important buildings and ships. Hanging from the ceiling, just over the entrance, was a replica of Taurus Station itself. Along the back wall were weird specimens of warped metal I was sure he was selling as exotic art. Several sparkled as they slowly spun around on mirror-encrusted turntables.

  To me, it looked like junk he’d glued together while adding a few screws here and there. At least he’d taken the time to clean the stuff.

  I had no idea how he kept a straight face when he sold this garbage to real, breathing people.

  This seemed like the kind of scam that could only work if people had to order it sight unseen, and yet he had somehow managed to build a fairly legitimate looking shop in the middle of a crowded station.

  Truth be told, I had my reservations about walking in. Maybe I’d wasted the fuel to get here. After all, the place didn’t look like a typical RBO office. Renegades didn’t like being noticed, so most of the offices I’d seen were located in forgotten basements, private offices, or fortress-like encampments at the edge of busy cities.

  This guy liked to hide right out in the open. It made me wonder if he was smarter than the rest, or if he had some kind of death wish.

  I sighed and rubbed my eyes. With little else in the way of options, I might as well give this a shot.

  As the throngs of tourists ebbed along the walkway, I kicked off the railing and walked into the store. A little chime echoed through the interior as I entered, but the place was empty and nobody stood behind the main counter. I took a moment to study the palm-sized garbage sculptures sitting on the glass counter in an effort to blend in and look innocuous.

  To my delight, I spotted a little, metal replica of Foxy Stardust sitting on the edge toward the wall. I grinned, pleasantly surprised to still see her there from my first visit, a queen among the piles of garbage.

  “...but this is the real treasure,” a man said, catching my attention.

  I peered over my shoulder as a thin man led a beautiful woman into the shop from an open doorway I hadn’t noticed before, hidden as it was behind a towering pile of twisted gears covered in hot glue and glitter. Her long dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she watched the thin man with awe as he gestured into the shop.

  He held a shimmering piece of metal aloft, and she gasped as she stared up at it. To me it looked like an old steering column welded to a dish pan, but she gaped at it like it was something special.

  I resisted the urge to shake my head.

  “I’ll take it, Mr. Trinidad,” she said in a breathless voice as she pressed her hands to her chest. “Whatever price you ask. I have to have it!”

  “Huh,” I muttered.

  Maybe selling trash to rich people wasn’t such a bad business plan after all.

  “Of course, my dear,” he said as he grabbed a box from a carefully stacked pile by the window. “But I warn you, tell no one of what you’ve found until you’re safely at home. Do you swear? I would hate for such a sweet woman as you to be robbed.”

  I tried not to let my eyes roll into the back of my head at the dramatics.

  “I’ll be careful, Mr. Trinidad.” She smiled broadly as he handed her the box. “Thank you!”

  “It has been my absolute pleasure,” he said with a broad grin. “Enjoy the rest of your stay at our humble station.”

  She clutched her box and darted off into the throng of tourists with her new treasure, and it took everything in me not to laugh.

  Ollie rubbed his hands together, his eyes lingering on the woman until her dark hair blended in with the crowd of bobbing heads. Once she was gone, he closed the main doors. The open sign in the window flipped off, and the tint along the windows instantly darkened to give us some privacy.

  With his shop now closed, he turned his attention to me. We stared at each other for a moment before he spoke.

  “Good to see you again, Jace.”

  I crossed my arms and spread my legs into a wide stance as I studied him. “It’s been a while.”

  “I have to admit, I figured you wouldn’t come back to me for jobs,” said Ollie. “You always said I was too far out of your way, no matter what job I dangled in front of you. What changed?”

  “A few other agents had to learn the hard way that they don’t steal from me,” I warned him. “I suggest you learn from their mistakes.”

  A sane man would have gulped, or at a minimum looked away as he regained his composure.

  Not Ollie.

  Ollie grinned
and wagged a finger at me. “I’ve always liked you, Hughes.”

  “You said you have a job?”

  “I always have jobs.” Ollie fished a data pad out of his back pocket and swiped his finger across the screen. “What would be good enough for the great Jace Hughes?” He didn’t look up as he spoke, and I couldn’t figure out if he was just being a smartass.

  Probably.

  “No, that one’s too small,” he muttered as he continued swiping his finger across the pad. “No, that one’s too easy.”

  “Hey now,” I said. “Easy is just fine, Ollie.”

  “Easy means less pay,” he said, silencing me. “Here we go. “The credits are decent. Some rich politician is splitting ways with his wife. Looks like a nasty divorce, too. Lots of lawyers are involved, as well as lots of money and property that she’s claiming equal ownership over. Anyway, he wants his kids, but she’s taken them to her parents. He wants someone to go in there, retrieve the kids, kill the wife, and if you get a chance, kill the in-laws, too. Then bring the children back and reunite the happy family.”

  “Whoa.” I fanned my hand at him. “It’s still kidnapping, which as you know, comes with a lot of heat. I’m not interested. Plus, those kids don’t need to see that shit, and there’s too much of a chance he’ll want to kill any witnesses. Namely, me.”

  Ollie frowned. “You didn’t even hear what he’s paying, Jace.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I don’t have many rules, Ollie, but the big one is nothing involving kids.” I stared him down and leaned against the nearest glass display of his garbage treasures. “Don’t push your luck on that. If I ever find out you hid the fact I had to kidnap or kill a kid, the job won’t get done and I’ll find a new agent. There are no second chances, Ollie. That clear?”

  The fake-art dealer scratched his chin and stared at me for a few seconds. “Well, that’s going to cut down on what I have to offer, but let me see what else I’ve got.”

  I surveyed the shop while he fussed with the data pad, muttering to himself with every swipe of his hands. I found it hard to believe that many people wanted kids killed, but the Deadlands were a lawless place.

  All the more reason to have a code of honor—albeit a short one. No one else had to like it but me, because I was the only one who had to live with my choices.

  If any agent I had gave me shit for it, they could kiss my ass. Ollie didn’t seem to be judging me, so maybe this had been a good choice for a new start afterall.

  “Wait, this one’s perfect,” Ollie said, holding up a triumphant finger. “A simple transport gig. It starts on-station but ends up pretty far away, so you’re looking at a lot in fuel costs here. I’ll shave a bit off of my finder’s fee as a first-time discount if you’re interested.”

  “I might be,” I admitted. “What are the details?”

  “It’s a courier job. There’s a contact here on Taurus Station who needs you to pick up some stolen intel and have you deliver it to the final destination. Guess they caught some heat from authorities, so they’re paying a few Renegades and freelancers to shuffle the data stick and shake whoever might be following. You have secret compartments in your ship, don’t you, Jace?”

  “Sure. Any good Renegade does,” I pointed out.

  “Good. The job’s simple, then. Pick up a data stick here at the station and take it on a trip to the far reaches of the Deadlands—about as far as you can go before you’re in the middle of nowhere.”

  I rubbed my chin, debating whether or not I wanted in on this. Life as a Renegade didn’t usually have legitimate jobs, but that was half the fun. Cleaning up someone else’s mess, however, didn’t exactly appeal to me. Authorities could mean a lot of things. The Union, Sarkonians, or any of the intergalactic law enforcement agencies between.

  The Deadlands didn’t have much in the way of a police force or military, since it was a hodge-podge collection of self-governing worlds beyond the reach of either the Union or the Sarkonian Empire. Each system and planet either had a security force or they didn’t. The problem, of course, came when either of the two empires decided they wanted to overstep their bounds and make life hell for anyone they thought they could strongarm into submission. If I ran into ships from either force on this mission, I’d face hell trying to evade them.

  Catch either empire on a bad day, and a guy could get his ship boarded, inspected, and probably confiscated for a fabricated violation of some ordinance that no one knew existed. Mostly, it was a racket to take shit from people they didn’t like.

  But with great risk came great reward—or else I wouldn’t bite. For a job like this, I’d need to know the payday would be big enough to give me some financial wiggle room for a good long while.

  I crossed my arms, my curiosity piqued. “What’s the pay?”

  Ollie pinched the screen to zoom in on the number and showed me the pad. My brows shot up my head, and I did my best to hide my excitement.

  That suited me just fine.

  “You don’t want to know what I’d do for that much money right now,” I admitted. “Fine, I’ll take it. Send the coordinates to my ship, along with any other intel you have on who’s involved in this.” I grabbed his pad and typed in the dock number where I was keeping the Star while aboard Taurus Station. “Do you know what’s on this data stick?”

  “Doesn’t say,” Ollie said as he took the pad back. “Probably best not to ask.”

  Though I typically liked to know what I had on my ship, I was quickly realizing with each new job that Ollie was probably right.

  People didn’t pay extravagant fees to strangers to transport legitimate goods in secret cargo hold compartments.

  “What are your fees for this one?” I asked.

  I’d learned my lesson from Max’s betrayal. No more assuming my agents took their fees out ahead of time.

  “Already taken off the top,” assured my new agent. “The number you saw is what you’ll get.”

  My eyes narrowed as I studied him, waiting for the tell of a lie on his face, but he was preoccupied with the pad in his hands and didn’t even notice me staring.

  Ollie Trinidad wasn’t an honest man, but he seemed smart enough not to risk his life for a few credits.

  “Sir,” said Sigmond through the comm in my ear. “I have received coordinates from Mr. Trinidad.”

  “Good,” I said. “Looks like we’ve got a job, Siggy.”

  “Excellent news, sir,” replied the AI.

  “Anything else I should know about this, Ollie?” I asked. “Any competition on this job?”

  My new agent shook his head. “No takers so far, but it just went up this morning. With pay like this, you’d better act fast.”

  “Claim it, then,” I told him.

  “Done,” said Ollie.

  I was eager to make some money, and I just wanted to get this over with. “Where do I pick this thing up?”

  Ollie tapped his pad a few more times. “There’s a cafe not far from here, out of sight from the security cameras on-station. You should be able to make a discreet handoff in there. Your contact will bring you a data stick, but it’s encrypted. If you try to use it, your clients will know and you won’t get paid. They also might try to kill you if they find out you accessed the stick.”

  “Sounds legit,” I said dryly. “When I get back, I expect my money, Ollie. All of it.”

  “Don’t worry, Jace,” Ollie said as he waved the thought away with a flick of his wrist. “I like breathing too much to steal from you.”

  “Smart man,” I said.

  Maybe this new partnership would work—and if he pulled anything like the con Max had tried on me, I had a bullet set aside with Ollie Trinidad’s name on it.

  6

  Nestled in a booth in the back corner of the cafe where I was supposed to meet my mark for the handoff, I watched the crowd beyond the open front doors, scanning the face of every person who walked past, wondering who the contact would be. I’d been careful to keep my back to the wall, as I
didn’t want any surprises, but I still felt a bit exposed. At least the pay would be worth it.

  Ollie had told me which table to wait at, and I was just supposed to sit here until something happened. Whoever was dropping off the data stick would sit down, slide it over, and leave after a few minutes of forced conversation to keep from seeming suspicious.

  It all felt a little clandestine, like we were playing Constables in some action holo, but easy enough.

  Still, I didn’t like the idea of not knowing my mark’s face. That was the downside of transporting illegal goods—neither party wanted the other to have a record of their face, lest the authorities find one of us.

  It made the handoff a little harder, though, and set me on edge.

  The quiet hum of conversation cocooned the place as a relaxing song played softly through the overhead speakers. Most of the people here were sitting at little tables and ignoring the bustle of people outside as they tapped on their pads or talked softly to their neighbor.

  As I drank my brew, pausing now and then to close my eyes and really savor it, I waited for someone to look in my direction. Though a few people glanced up at me here and there, no one’s eyes lingered.

  As the people in the crowd outside meandered across the walk beyond the cafe’s doors, someone broke away and walked in. A familiar hood covered much of her face, and a tuft of black hair stuck out from the edge of it as she scanned the room.

  “No,” I muttered, smirking.

  She pulled her hood back, and her long dark hair rolled over her shoulders. I laughed, leaning my head back against the wall behind me as I recognized the thief from the toy shop heist.

  Her eyes darted toward me, and the moment she saw me, her shoulders drooped. It was like my mere existence had knocked the fight out of her, and she tensed her jaw. She stood by the door a moment, flexing her hands and probably debating whether or not to walk out altogether.

  Luckily, no one in this shop seemed to care what anyone else was up to. Even as she stood by the door, no one moved. No one so much as looked up from their data pads as she sent me a glare that was probably supposed to scare me.