Origins: The Complete Series

by J. N. Chaney

  I rubbed at the stubble on my jaw. I knew it was bad to give Fratley any indication that I was desperate, but the fact of the matter was that he had me by the scruff of my neck. And I had no one else to go to for this, not like Fratley. Not with his connections.

  He loved working with the desperate—primarily because he could name his terms, and they would take the deal even if it wasn’t in their best interest to do so.

  This was going to hurt, but I had to show him one or two of my cards.

  “There might not be time for me to be patient,” I admitted, looking him dead in the eye. “I need one now, Fratley.”

  With those simple words, I had Fratley's full attention once more. He smirked, his eyes briefly narrowing, like he’d caught me in a trap.

  Had he been waiting all along for something like this to happen? Was he just sitting on a cloak and waiting for me or someone else to show up with that same, desperate look in their eyes?

  “Now that you mention it,” said the old crook, as if an idea had only just hit him. “I did recently hear about one getting picked up by one of the scrappers I use.”

  I knuckled my eye in frustration. How convenient.

  “How much?” I asked, leaning back in my chair. I braced myself and took a sip of the whiskey to numb the inevitable sticker shock.

  “One hundred thousand credits,” he said without even pausing. “I told you before they weren’t cheap, Jace.”

  I nearly choked on the whiskey. It burned my throat and lungs as I inhaled it in my disgust and surprise. “That's insane, Fratley!”

  “It might be,” he admitted with a bored shrug. “But it's also the price. I can get it installed and operational within the week.”

  “Fine,” I said. I hated going into debt again, especially for that amount, but the cloak was too important to let this opportunity pass me by. I’d just have to take on bigger jobs with better payout.

  Fratley gave me a big smile—a smarmy salesman’s smile—and nodded briefly, as if we had shaken on it. “Good doing business with you, Jace. I'll send you the coordinates as soon as I relocate the cloak and get it ready.”

  The transmission cut out. I was left sitting alone in my pilot's chair, suddenly a hundred thousand credits in debt.

  For a moment, all I could do was sit under the weight of it all. The weight of a near-death experience on a barren moon. The crushing reality of such a massive debt acquired in an instant. The surreal idea that a living legend in the Renegade world was hunting me.

  It was a lot to handle and even more to process. One way or another, I'd get through it.

  I always did.

  “Well, that settles it. Siggy, talk to Ollie and see if he can get us any more work under an alias while we wait for Fratley to get the cloak together.”

  “Right away, sir,” said the AI. “Do you have any preference for the type of work?”

  “Just the usual rules,” I said with a shake of my head. “I don't think we can be picky for a while, Siggy. A hundred thousand creds is a lot of money.”

  “It is, sir,” agreed the AI.

  It was the sort of money that would take me years to pay off, if Fratley gave me that kind of time. I should have considered that before asking for the cloak, but I didn’t really have many options. If taking on the debt meant I actually got to live through those years, though, it would be worth paying.

  Probably.

  11

  Ollie had managed to find a job for me, and I didn’t know whether to thank or punch him. I had to deliver a satchel, which I wasn’t supposed to open, to a Deadlands planet swarming with flies.

  Brax, the planet of swamps and sulfur.

  As we approached the shithole, I sat at my place in the Renegade Star’s cockpit, my hands wrapped around the controls as I eased my ship down onto one of the allotted landing pads.

  It took everything in me not to hover over the delivery spot and hurl the satchel through the cargo bay gate. I didn’t want to land my ship in a swamp, but this middle-of-nowhere planet didn’t have the traffic to warrant use of planetary revenue to build proper space ports. It forced people like me to make due with spots that had been marked as stable enough for landing.

  So, into the swamp I’d have to go.

  This place was basically one colossal bayou, and its only strategic value to the universe was in the various metals and natural gasses available beneath its surface. Due to the mild levels of sulfur in the waters and the oppressive humidity, Brax was otherwise useless.

  No one came here unless they had to.

  As much as I hated the idea of landing the Star in a murky pit, the low population on Brax was a perk for me right now. It meant not many people would notice me, and Colt most likely wouldn’t even know I was here until I was long gone.

  I paused, bringing the Star to a hover above the swamp. My fingers drummed the controls as I studied the holo again, not liking this at all.

  Time for a Plan B.

  “I’m not interested in wading through a swamp, Siggy.”

  “With the gate lowered, you won’t have to,” assured the AI. “There will be only a small stretch of water between the opened cargo bay door and the solid bank of the swamp, which you will be able to jump over. I apologize for being unable to find a more suitable spot, sir, but Brax is unfortunately limited in its landing positions.”

  “Damn it,” I muttered. “Swamp it is.”

  I debated asking about the sulfur levels in the water below us, but I knew I wouldn’t like the answer. Just about every inch of Brax smelled like an armpit, and I’d accepted there was no way around it.

  Getting to the swamp world had taken roughly three days, and while the job hadn’t offered great pay for the length of the trek, it would net me a profit and give me something to do. Once the task was finished, I’d be able to grab another job or two before Fratley gave me the coordinates to get my new toy.

  My heart jerked some at the thought of finally getting my cloak.

  The Brax job had brought me to a little mining town that focused primarily on natural gas. Since this particular stretch of shambling hovels was mostly uninhabited except for the local miners, it meant I had an even greater chance of going unnoticed.

  I still couldn't pretend this was safe. If Colt could fake a job to lure me out into that ghost town on a dusty moon, there was always the chance he could hunt me down on legit jobs, too.

  Of course, this could also be another fake job, for all I knew.

  For every job he had me looking over my back, I only became more determined to kill him. He hadn’t just threatened my life—he’d upended it, and I’d make him pay.

  “Let's get this over with, Siggy,” I said as the Renegade Star shuddered, its engines powering down now that we’d landed. “What are we looking at for this job?”

  “You have only a short walk ahead of you to the sheriff’s office,” said Sigmond. “I estimate it should take you ten minutes.”

  “That's good,” I said as I walked out of the bridge and into the lounge.

  The sooner I delivered this, the sooner I’d be off to my next job, and the sooner I’d get paid.

  I jogged down the steps into the cargo bay. The bag on my shoulder was so light that I wasn't even sure there was anything in it, but I knew better than to look. All I had to do was hand it to the sheriff, and I was done.

  The cargo bay opened as I neared, its mechanisms whirring. As the seal broke, it took only seconds for the oppressive heat and humidity to roll over me. The stench of sulfur hit me like a punch and I had to work not to gag.

  “Close up the ship, Siggy,” I ordered as I jumped off the gate and landed on the wet bank. Mud clung to my boots, but I tried to ignore it.

  The doors immediately began to close, and I stood guard by my ship until they sealed. The hum of an engine drew near as I waited, and seconds later, movement through the trees caught my eye.

  Two men in a hover car wove through the moss hanging from the forest. They darted bet
ween the trunks at a speed that seemed guaranteed to end in a collision.

  I eyed them as they passed, instantly suspicious. With Colt on my tail, I had to be. My fingers tensed, ready to grab my gun, but they didn't even look my way. In seconds, they passed by and disappeared once again between the trees.

  I didn't like being this on edge, and I certainly didn't like feeling this paranoid. Right now, though, it was best to stay alert.

  As the Renegade Star resealed behind me, I walked along the bank and headed north. Around me, hundreds of trees bent under the weight of moss and lichen.

  With every step, the heat pressed in more. My shirt clung to my skin, already soaked with sweat after just a few minutes. I didn't know how people could live here, but that was the human condition. Resilient and flexible to any climate—especially when there wasn’t a choice.

  Before long, I stepped out of the beige and gray forest and onto a road, its surface riddled with cracks from the heat. There were fewer and fewer trees as I walked along the path, their trunks replaced by buildings with roofs that blended into the canopy overhead. These buildings lined both sides of the wide road, and only a handful of people walked along the path. They went about their day, each one paying me no attention. Just the way I liked it.

  Moss crawled up the walls of every building I saw. From the public records Siggy had found, this mining town wasn't that old. Despite its recent build dates, it was like the planet was already trying to eat any evidence that settlers had ever come here or were trying to actively live.

  At the far end of the road, a three-story building caught my eye. The sheriff’s office. It had to be. It towered over the others, though moss still climbed up its walls. A few short stairs led to a set of double doors, and I picked up my pace.

  I jogged up the steps and walked inside, half expecting it to be cooler. If anything, the air got heavier the moment I stepped in. Despite the large building, the front entry was just a fairly small room. A man sat at a desk at the far end, his boots propped up on the surface as he leaned back in his chair, his hat covering his face, and his chest rising and falling slowly.

  Sleeping.

  I rolled my eyes as I reached him and smacked his boot to wake him up.

  He snorted and sat up abruptly, his hat falling to the ground as he rubbed his eyes. “Eh? What do you want?”

  “Your signature,” I answered, and set the bag on the table.

  He perked up and grabbed the satchel, lowering it to the ground between his feet where I could no longer see it.

  I heard a click, followed by a zipper opening. He rifled through the sack, never taking anything out, and then nodded to himself.

  After a moment, he pulled out a data pad from one of the drawers nearby and tapped the surface, bringing the screen to life. “There you go,” said the man.

  “Sir,” said Sigmond through the comm in my ear. “The full payment has been deposited into your account.”

  “Pleasure doing business with you,” I said as I turned on my heel and walked out of the building.

  He didn't say anything. Not that I expected him to. The good thing about these backwater planets was that they didn’t want visitors, which meant they were quick to get you paid and out the door. Nothing but business. My kind of people.

  Unlike those merchants on the fancy ships going to and from the Union. Those boys always had something to say and took too many words to say it.

  As I stepped out into the humid air, I found it a little harder to breathe, like sitting in a sauna.

  Life expectancy on this planet was supposed to be ten years less than the average, including other mining towns. Maybe the air had something to do with it. Maybe it was just the lack of civilization. Either way, I was glad to be gone.

  The air was hot and heavy as I surveyed the road once again, but this time something didn't seem right. The route I’d taken—the path back to the Star—was entirely empty of people.

  A second road intersected with the first, right in front of the sheriff’s office, and it disappeared into the bayou on both sides of me. Also empty.

  I was now the only one outside.

  Before I could even take a step, I caught movement in the side of my periphery. A door slammed across the street, pulling my attention. Through a few windows along the road, faces hovered in the glass, casting a wary glance at me.

  “Start the engines, Siggy,” I said in a low voice as I resumed my walk back to the Star.

  “Primed and ready,” replied the AI.

  I didn’t bother with pretense. Something about this didn’t feel right. Even if this planet hated visitors, it made little sense for them to board themselves inside just because I was here. A few sideways glances and short responses were to be expected, but not this.

  Walking faster, I kept my eyes open and on my surroundings.

  “Jace Hughes!” a man shouted, his familiar voice splitting the silence.

  I stopped dead in my tracks, barely twenty meters from the sheriff’s office and not even certain where the voice had come from.

  Ahead of me, a man stepped out from between two buildings farther down the road, blocking my way to the Star. I couldn’t make out his face yet.

  His gray hair was a different story, however, along with the familiar build of a man who had tried to kill me in a ghost town on some long-forgotten moon.

  Colt Lockwood had found me.

  12

  Well, shit.

  I scanned the area around me, trying to find a way out even as I looked for cover. There wasn't much, just a few narrow alleys between the buildings along the road leading to gods knew what behind them.

  This was bad.

  I set my hand on my pistol but knew better than to draw just yet. He was too far away to get a clear shot. I suspected the same was true for him and his aim on me. If Colt wanted to kill me, he would need to get closer. That bought me some time, but not much.

  The theatrics of his announcement didn’t quite make sense to me. After all, he could’ve just waited for me to walk by. I’d been heading straight for him, and I could only assume that something had changed.

  After he’d failed to kill me without warning last time, it seemed as though he finally wanted to talk.

  Colt took a few steps forward, totally at ease in the smoldering humidity and the empty street. I had to admit the man walked with confidence. Shoulders back, chin up, and a cocky grin on his face visible even from this distance.

  He seemed at home in this kind of situation, like he'd done this before and probably won every time.

  “Well, if it isn't Colt Lockwood,” I remarked. “I'm surprised a famous Renegade like you knows who I am. I'm honored.” I feigned a bow, giving him a little flourish with my free palm even as I kept my right hand on the butt of my pistol.

  “Don't be,” he said, still taking deliberate steps toward me while slowly closing the distance between us. “I didn't know shit about you until you killed my cousin.”

  “Cousin?” I muttered to myself.

  Of course. They were family.

  “Let's cut to the chase here,” continued Colt. “There's no point in this game we’ve got going. I can track you to every star system in the galaxy. Whatever name you use, I know it, and I won’t stop running you down until you’re bleeding out in a dumpster.”

  Bullshit. He couldn’t possibly know all my aliases. Even if he did, I could always make more.

  “You probably think I’m bluffing,” he went on. “But I found you here, didn't I? You can’t run, Hughes.”

  “I don't run from anything, Colt. I just don’t like being surprised when I’m out for an afternoon stroll. Gives me indigestions, you know.”

  Colt laughed. “I like the gumption, but I've been doing this too long to lose to a scrub like you.”

  He was getting closer, clearly angling to get a better shot. He had his hand on the pistol in his holster, and even though he looked relaxed, I could tell we were seconds from exchanging bullets.


  From here, it was all about who drew first.

  It was time to take a different approach. If I got him talking, I could distract him. It might be enough to win me the first shot.

  “Zacharias Decker was a piece of shit,” I said, my voice echoing through the swamp in the heavy silence. “You're a legend. Cousin or no, why do you care if Decker is dead?”

  “Funny thing about the people you share blood with,” said Colt. “Protecting them is just what you do. Family's family, and you stand by them no matter how worthless or problematic they are. Besides, he was under my protection… and now he’s dead. It’s not a good look, Hughes. If I don’t make an example out of you, people might start getting ideas.” Colt paused. “I can’t have that now, can I?”

  My jaw tensed, and I wasn’t sure what to say.

  “I always bailed Zacharias out of his bullshit. Maybe it made him an entitled ass. Who knows? Who cares?” Colt shrugged like it didn't matter. “Point is, you’re the reason he’s dead. There has to be retribution.”

  “I didn't kill him. I was intercepted. Other people—”

  “He was your responsibility,” he snapped, almost hissing the last word. “You're responsible. I was trying to get intel on the Avos bounty and have the job taken down when you jumped on it like a thirsty whore. You cost my cousin his life, and now that’s gonna cost you yours.”

  My finger edged closer to the pistol. This just kept getting better and better.

  “Now,” said Colt, the issue apparently settled. “I failed to keep Zacharias alive, and that's mine to take to my grave when my day comes. All I can do is do right by his corpse. It's going to be better for you if you just set down that gun and take this like a man.”

  “I’m a Renegade, same as you. Ain’t no way I’m dying without fighting back.”

  He chuckled. “I know, but thought I’d ask,” he said, closer now.

  Almost close enough to shoot.

  I could see a scar on his face, now—a long pale line that ran down from his temple to his jaw. He was the sort of man who had seen and done things that the rest of us only heard about in stories. From what I’d heard, he wasn't the merciful sort, either. Clearly, a public shootout in the middle of town didn’t bother him.