by J. N. Chaney
“I might be,” he replied. “Letting you go off like this. I’m probably the most foolish man in the colony.”
I kissed his cheek. “I can’t argue with that.”
A few minutes later, Josef met me in the medbay, bringing the cast I’d requested for Othello. The boy’s lips quirked up into an easy smile when he saw me. “I’m coming with you.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I answered.
“It’ll be fine,” he assured me. “Besides, you’ll need me to fit this cast on the Boneclaw, right?”
I sighed but nodded. “Fine,” I said, causing him to smile. “But if we run into any animals, don’t try to be a hero. Let the rest of us handle it.”
“I know where my skills lie,” he assured me, lifting the cast in his hand. “I—”
A woman screamed suddenly from down the hall, causing us both to pause. With a brief, exchanged look, we darted toward the noise, hoping to help.
As we arrived, we found Mario standing with a young woman in a chokehold, forcing her across the room. A flash of light at her throat drew my eye to the piece of broken glass he was holding.
“Stay back, all of you!” he yelled, jerking her from side to side.
My grip tightened on the staff and it began to glow.
“Lucia,” Josef warned. “Don’t.”
Mario was inching toward the door to the caves. He looked desperate and afraid, probably anticipating the worst possible punishment that our people could provide.
“Mario,” I said calmly, hands raised in a peaceful gesture. “Let her go.”
His eyes flashed to mine, wild with fear or madness, maybe both. He shook his head. “No. Get back. I’ll kill her! I’ll kill all of you if you try anything.”
He no longer seemed terrifying, not like he had before. Not in his desperation. The man standing before me was weak, consumed by stupidity and a primal need to live. He’d reacted emotionally and without reason, barely a thought in his head, and that made him a fool.
“No one needs to get hurt today,” I said, moving a few centimeters closer to him.
Mario's breaths came in pants and he flicked a glance around the room. A small crowd was quickly gathering, many armed and all of them angry.
“Give me the glass and stop this,” I said, holding out my hand.
His nostrils flared, the muscles in his neck bulging. “You want the glass?” he asked. “Why? So you can kill me yourself? That’s what you want. It’s what all of you want!”
“No one wants that,” I said, still trying to stay calm. “But you have to see there’s no way out of here. We can’t let you leave. Even if you did, you know the caves are too dangerous. You’d be killed within the week. Be smart about this. We can work all of it out. You don’t have to—”
“Shut your mouth, you idiot child!” he barked. “These people already have it in their heads that they want me dead, and that’s never going away. I’m not staying in a place that hates me, where every day I’m cursed. Look at the way they stare! Look!”
He shoved the woman roughly to the ground before lunging toward me.
My senses were a little dull from the fatigue and my reaction equally slow. I threw a forearm up to protect my face and grunted at the burning sensation as the glass tore into my flesh.
Mario slashed again, but I twisted to one side and grabbed his wrist as it whipped past my face. I tried to break his grip on the sharp object but couldn’t manage a hold.
He had perhaps fifteen centimeters on me and a lot more muscle, with years of practical experience. Crazy or not, he was still a highly skilled hunter.
Mario broke my grip easily, jerking me forward and delivering an elbow strike to my chin. My ears rang and my vision blackened as my head reeled.
Shaking it off, I stepped in when he expected me to pull back, then stomped on his foot. It worked, loosening his grip, and I slammed my fist into the still-raw knife wound on his chest. Mario yelped and pushed me away.
“This is all your fault,” he wheezed. “Things were going to change.”
Guards arrived, weapons trained on him.
“You need to take responsibility for your own stupidity,” I snapped at Mario, waving away the guards with my clean hand.
Mario snarled and launched himself at me again. This time, I sidestepped his attack and delivered a kick to the inside of his right knee. He went down to one leg and I caught him in the throat with a hard right jab, knocking him to the floor.
His empty hand went up to his throat as he gasped for air.
I placed a knee on his chest and a foot to his wrist, quickly wrestling the shard from his grasp, then I flipped the glass in my hand and stabbed it into his chest until he groaned.
“This is directly over your heart,” I said between gritted teeth as I leered over his snot-covered nose. “It is over!”
Mario's lips twisted. “Yes...it...is…!”
He grabbed my fist with both hands and pushed the glass into my knuckles. I gasped and let go as the sharp edge sliced into my palm.
I fell back and crawled to my feet, half-expecting him to get up. Instead, he did the opposite, lying there for a moment and staring up at the ceiling as the blood began to pool out of him.
“Doctor!” I yelled to the crowd behind me. “Get the doctor!”
But it was no use.
The bastardized grin was still on his face when the last breath left his body.
Shortly after Mario's forced suicide, Josef and I, along with a few of our best hunters, went to meet with Tiberius, who had gone through the work of moving Othello to a better location. I instructed them to wait outside and keep an eye out for wolves while Josef and I continued.
“You came,” Tiberius said when we entered the courtyard, the air crisp and clear, and the bright light of the sky shining down.
“As I said I would,” I replied. “This is Josef, an engineer and a trusted friend.”
Janus had activated scanners in the area and come up with a proposed radiation treatment plan, which I held out for the massive Boneclaw to see.
“Medicine for Othello,” I said when he didn’t answer. “I would give it to you, but it is made for human hands.”
“I thank you.” Tiberius nodded at me, then gestured behind him to where Othello waited.
The other Boneclaw lay listlessly on the stony ground inside the courtyard.
I walked over and put a hand on his large forearm. “This might pinch a bit, but you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”
“Get it over with,” he wheezed.
Pushing the injector down to get it close to the skin, I pressed the button. Othello jerked slightly but otherwise didn’t react.
“Josef,” I called over my shoulder.
A warning growl came from Tiberius and I glanced up to see him blocking Josef’s way with one arm.
“What is this?” he asked, eyeing the case suspiciously.
I sighed. It would be a long road to trust for us both.
“A brace to set Othello’s break. Josef helped me to create it.” I strode over and opened it slowly. “See?” I held up my arm to show him the similar construction.
Tiberius peered inside at the contents. He grunted and let us pass.
Together, Josef and I assembled it around Othello’s injured leg. When it was ready, Josef activated it. The brace retracted and snapped the bone back into place with a crack that echoed in the small yard, and Othello roared in pain.
“Sorry!” Josef said quickly. “But it should be alright now.”
Othello said nothing as he moved into an upright position. We backed up to let Tiberius help him to his feet until he stood awkwardly on one leg, slowly lowering the other.
After a few successful practice steps, Tiberius nodded to me and Josef. “You’ve kept your word,” he said, watching Othello. “We will meet again to discuss the future for both our people, but today you have done well.”
“When will we see you again?” I asked.
Another Selection Ceremony took place soon after the events involving the coup.
It went pretty much the same as the first, although without the interruption afterward. The newly appointed Primes officially chose me as the next Director, though the announcement was bittersweet.
Aside from myself, only Mark and Nell had been allowed to grace the stage. Allan had chosen exile with Nero and a few others.
Karin…well, I’d hoped she was watching from somewhere. We’d retrieved her body, along with any others we could find. In the days after Mario's death, a mass funeral had been held in the hangar to celebrate the lives they’d lived and mourn their passing.
Elder Laurell Kimble had shuffled in, eyes bright with mischief and completely unharmed.
Every time someone asked her how she had survived, the old hunter would launch into a story about how she fought off Tiberius and two of his kind with a slingshot she fashioned from the bones of the dead in their lair. Funnily enough, the number of Boneclaws always seemed to increase with each retelling.
Tiberius himself told me that the killing of an Elder didn’t sit well. Unsure of what to do with Laurell, he had indeed taken her to a cave, though not their lair, and certainly not one filled with corpses.
To hear his side, Laurell had reprimanded the King of the Boneclaws for falling in with the likes of Mario to begin with. Tiberius had returned her before our meeting, where he had planned to hand her back to us in a show of good faith.
Prime Elias Doyle still awaited judgement for his actions, though I wasn’t convinced he had worked alone.
But there had been a silver lining when Josef took his place.
He had even put the pin on me, a silver design like the Primes wore. A trio of right-facing chevrons, the last of which winged out. It had been crafted from scrap metal and I wore it proudly.
My father had balked at first to my agreeing to meet Tiberius, which would become a weekly event, but he had been convinced by my story and the other primes. Now, he beamed proudly and presented me to the gathered colony. “This is my daughter,” he said to the world. “The next Director of our people.” His words were met with applause and cheers that filled the hangar, and I felt a swell of pride at the man who had trained me, loved me, and raised me.
When it was over, the people feasted, and we all played games to celebrate. Children laughed and played chase while adults ate and gossiped, whispering of the Boneclaws and the girl who had spoken to them.
It was one of those rare days outside, clear skies and calm winds, and someone had opened the hangar door slightly to let in the fresh air. A lone figure stood looking out and I knew it was Nell.
She’d mostly kept to herself since our return and a number of the community still avoided her. I approached her side, both of us standing in amiable silence.
For a long time, we stared out at the white valley, the fields of our ancestors.
Beyond the quiet, however, a storm brewed along the horizon, and I felt a chill in my chest.
“We’ve entered new territory today,” Nell finally said. “An intelligent Boneclaw leading the rest. There’s no telling where things will go next.”
“A better place, maybe,” I said.
“Maybe,” she replied, quiet for a moment before continuing. “But how long can peace really last, I wonder?”
“As long as it can, I suppose,” I answered, placing my hand around her shoulder. “But that’s a question for tomorrow. In the meantime, what do you say we have ourselves a drink?”
She smirked. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”
We turned, and I looked up to see another friend. Across the room, Josef locked eyes with me and smiled.
The future looked bright indeed.
Epilogue
Twenty-three years had passed since I became Director, and now I cupped a hand around my heavy, pregnant belly as I leaned against one of the smaller boulders to my side.
Snow fell gently around me, and I tipped my head back to let the flakes melt on my face. With the power glitches happening even more often, it was a treat to be outside without worrying it would go dark at any moment. Even if one of our wild snowstorms flared up, I had the shuttle to take me home.
Josef didn’t exactly like the idea of his wife going to meet with the King of the Boneclaws, but he understood the importance of treaties. At least, I hoped he did.
Tiberius and I still met every year to discuss the affairs of our communities. Many things had changed over the years, but never this.
The ground rumbled to announce his arrival, and I craned my head to look for him against the white backdrop of the valley. The giant Boneclaw wasn’t hard to spot when he was moving. To this day I had yet to meet one of his kind of a comparable size.
It seemed to me that his lumbering gait was slower than usual, and I wondered if he had been injured. When he drew near, I stood and gave him a once over with my hands on my hips.
I raised an eyebrow when he finally came within a few meters. “Why are you walking like that?” I asked.
He scoffed and waved the question away, reminding me of my father, who had made a habit of doing that since his retirement, particularly at the young ones who caused a ruckus or asked stupid questions.
“Not you, too,” Tiberius complained. “It’s as if, because I’m showing my age, everyone thinks I am too weak. I assure you, Lucia, I am still myself. I could tear apart six frost horns right now if I wanted to.”
I chuckled lightly. “I’m sure you could, old man.”
He returned my laugh with one of his own, and it was so loud I felt it in my chest. “That thing in your belly,” he said, changing the subject. “Othello tells me you are to be a mother soon. Have you decided on a name for the cub?”
“I have,” I replied. “They tell me it’s a girl.”
He nodded approvingly. “Then she will be strong, as you are.”
“I hope she is stronger,” I said, smiling a little. “I’ve chosen the name of a great warrior who once saved my life. She will have much to live up to.”
“If she is your kin, then I have no doubt about it,” said Tiberius. “So, what is the name?”
“My daughter will be Karin,” I answered, gracing my stomach with the palm of my hand.
“A name to give her courage,” said Tiberius, nodding his understanding. “She will be a fine warrior, like her mother, and a great leader, I am sure.”
“You are too kind,” I said, and in that moment I felt a kick. “Oh, there she goes.”
“Does she move?” he asked. “Already the spirit wakes to fight. It is a good sign. She will be strong and fierce.”
I smiled at his words. “You might be right.” I cleared my throat and waddled closer to him, taking a seat on one of the larger stones. “For now, the child will have to wait. You and I have matters to attend to.”
“That, we do,” he said, shifting where he sat to better face me. “Speak, Director, so that I might hear you.”
Lucia will return later this year. In the meantime, if you’re new to the Renegade Universe, you can catch up on Lucia’s later adventures by checking out the Renegade Star series, exclusively on Amazon.
Stay up to date with all of my new releases, news, and all the latest discussions by joining the Facebook group, J.N. Chaney’s Renegade Readers.
Renegade Star Preview
Chapter 1 of Renegade Star
“I’ll fucking kill you!” screamed William Emmerson as he ordered his security personnel to fire in my direction.
“Good luck with that!” I returned, brushing the side of a moss covered tree, nearly tumbling in the process.
I tore through the woods outside the Emmerson Estate, having just stolen an object worth two hundred thousand galactic credits—a small metal orb about the size of my fist.
A merchant named Fitz, one of Emmerson’s rivals, had hired me to deliver this junk f
or a reasonable price. I didn’t really give a damn about their feud, but the pay was good and I needed the work.
“Stop him!” shouted Emmerson. “Someone stop him!”
Dogs barked far behind me as I neared the clearing. If Emmerson thought a couple of mutts and some hired goons would be enough to slow me down, he was in for a wild surprise.
“Excuse me, sir,” said a calm and familiar voice in my ear. It was Sigmond, my ship’s A.I. unit. “I see you’re being chased. Shall I drop the cloak and prepare for departure?”
Another energy blast buzzed my head, throwing a shower of splintered tree bark and oxidized sap into my face. I gripped my pistol and swung around, spotting the guard responsible between the many branches and thick undergrowth. I waited for a clean shot, squeezed the trigger, and fired.
The bullet flicked through a patch of leaves and went straight into the man’s leg, causing him to dive to the ground. At that, I turned back around and kept running. “That’d be great, Siggy!”
“As you wish,” he replied.
I tore through the tree line and entered a vast, green field. “Try to make this quick, pal, unless you wanna be homeless.”
“Perish the thought, sir.”
The Renegade Star rippled as it phased into visibility right in the middle of the valley. Several more security personnel came running, emerging from the forest, setting their sights on me and firing.
I burst forward, shredding grass with the heel of my boot. Several shots echoed from behind. No time to slow down.
“Hurry!” shouted Emmerson, joining his hired help near the trees. He continued with a garbled, unintelligible slew of insults.
Meant for me, of course.
I turned and aimed as I ran, shooting as accurately as one could expect, given the situation. I was a decent shot—maybe even good—but I couldn’t hit a target that far away while I was running in the other direction, much as it pained me to admit it. As a result, nearly every shot dug into the ground or, at best, the overhead leaves of the surrounding trees.
