Renegade Atlas: An Intergalactic Space Opera Adventure (Renegade Star Book 2)

by JN Chaney

  Hitchens frowned. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Yes, it’s true, Octavia. I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry, Lex.”

  “It’s okay, Mr. Hitchens,” said Lex, wiping her eyes on her shoulder. “It doesn’t hurt as much anymore.”

  “It doesn’t?” asked Hitchens.

  “No, not as bad,” she said, but then flinched when Octavia touched her.

  “It looks like your fingers are pretty sensitive. We need to get some gel on your skin,” suggested Octavia. “Doctor, can you bring her to my room? I’ll get the medical kit.”

  “Right away,” said Hitchens, getting off the sofa. “Let’s do as Octavia says, Lex.”

  I watched him lead the girl down the hall. When they were close to the room, Octavia swiveled in her chair to look at me. “Where is it?” she asked.

  “Where’s what?” I returned.

  “The device you mentioned. I assume it’s still here.”

  “Right there, under the table,” I said, motioning with my head.

  She stared at it, curiously, before looking back at me. “Get rid of it.”

  “You don’t want to keep and study it?” The statement surprised me, given her history as an archeologist, like Hitchens.

  “Not if it’s dangerous enough to do that. Did you see her fingers?”

  “They looked fucked up, yeah.”

  “She has second degree burns, Captain. Those are serious injuries.”

  “She didn’t act like it hurt that bad,” I said.

  “I expect she’ll feel it soon, once the shock has settled.”

  I glanced down at the device on the floor, at whatever the fuck had just blasted a beam of light in my lounge. “Guess I should find somewhere to dump this.”

  * * *

  I didn’t toss the box. Instead, I stuck it back inside the container it came in, and then I stuffed that inside a closet inside my room.

  Back on Taurus, my old pal Ollie (rest his soul) had told me that these relics were worth their share in credits. Maybe if I held onto this garbage, I could find a trader somewhere who desperately wanted it.

  Hell, I had to pay for fuel somehow, didn’t I?

  “Exiting slipspace in ten minutes, sir,” announced Siggy.

  “On my way,” I said, closing the closet door and leaving my room.

  By the look of the lounge, everyone was most likely with Lex, no doubt concerned over her well-being.

  They probably thought I was heartless to ignore her, but I knew better. That kid was tougher than most. She wasn’t some soft little girl. She was strong. She had what it took to be here.

  I’d seen it on her face, back when Fratley had come…back when I’d killed him, right on this very ship. Lex had seen it all, but none of it had fazed her. The only way a person got through something like that, especially a kid, was if they’d witnessed something worse.

  Much worse, I wagered.

  Lex had to know what death was, long before she’d ever come aboard this ship. A girl like that, stuck in a galaxy like this…it made sense that she’d seen a killing or two, long before I came around.

  I smirked, walking through the hall. Whatever your story is, kid, I’m glad you made it this far.

  We arrived out of slipspace shortly after I strapped into my chair. The emerald lightning of the rift disappeared behind us as the tunnel closed. “Activate the cloak, Siggy.”

  “Understood, sir. Would you like me to move us to the next tunnel entrance?”

  “That’d be fine,” I said. “We got any movement in the system?”

  “Affirmative, sir. It seems there’s a construction project occurring on the moon surrounding the nearby gas giant.”

  That was a surprise. I had assumed we’d be alone when we got there. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before we came in?”

  “Apologies, sir, but this project hasn’t been entered into the galnet universal map yet.”

  “Maybe they don’t want the Union to know about it,” I suggested. “Or the Sarkonians, for that matter.”

  “That is a possibility, sir.”

  “Can you run a deep scan and tell me what’s there?”

  “Already done,” said Sigmond, anticipating my needs like always. “There appears to be a modest selection of shops in the local bazaar, as well as a fully functional fuel station.”

  A list of vendors came up on the holo, ranging from beer to clothes to beef-on-a-stick.

  “If I might make a suggestion, Captain,” continued Sigmond. “Our fuel reserves could use replenishing.”

  I thought about the fridge and the lack of food. “We might need more than that, now that you mention it, Siggy.”

  I heard a short knock on the door. “Mr. Hughes? Are you in there?” The door cracked open and I turned to see Lex peeking in. She kept most of her body behind the wall, afraid to enter. “Um.”

  “What is it, kid? Shouldn’t you be resting from that blast you took?”

  “That was a while ago,” she said, hugging the door, bouncing a little. “What are you doing in here?”

  “Finding us a place to wait.” I turned away from her, back toward the console.

  I heard her step inside, taking a seat next to me. “What are we waiting for?”

  “Not sure yet,” I muttered.

  “Oh.”

  I glanced down at her hand. It was bandaged, delicately wrapped, probably by Octavia. “Your hand doing okay?”

  “Huh? Oh…” She pulled her hand away and placed it in her lap, covering her fingers with her other palm. “Yeah, it’s better.”

  “Better?” I asked. “Don’t be modest, kid.”

  Her eyes dropped to the dash, like she was embarrassed.

  We sat there a while, saying nothing. I kept thinking she would get up and leave, but she never did. After a while, I cleared my throat, tired of the silence. “Hey,” I said, finally. “When your hand gets better, I’ve got a computer game you can use. It’s a racer. You like racers?”

  “What’s a racer?” she asked.

  “It’s a game where ten ships see who’s the fastest.”

  “Is it hard?”

  “Depends how good you are. For me, it’s easy. But for you…” I cocked my brow and shook my head. “It might be too much. You gotta be tough to handle a racer, you know.”

  “I’m tough,” she said, sitting up straight. “I can do it.”

  “Really? You don’t sound tough. How do I know?”

  “I am!” she insisted. “I can do it!”

  I tapped my chin. “Hm…yeah, you know, maybe you are tough.”

  “Yeah,” she said, quickly. “I promise I am.”

  “Well, once your hand is better, we’ll have to find out. You can show me.”

  “But my hand is okay now!” She raised the bandaged appendage, no longer shy about it. “See? It’s better!”

  “I’m sure it is,” I said, trying to sound like I believed her. “But let’s give it more time to heal. You don’t want it to be sensitive.”

  She furrowed her brow. “But it’s better! Just look, Mr. Hughes.”

  She started to unwrap the bandage from around her fingers.

  “Hey, kid, hold on a second,” I cautioned. “You shouldn’t do that.”

  Fuck, what was I thinking?

  She took the bandages off in a hurry, letting them fall on the floor, between our seats. “See? Look, Mr. Hughes.”

  Lex lifted her hand in the air between us, fluttering her fingers. I had expected to see them inflamed, possibly charred and bloodied from the blast. Instead, they had a soft pinkness to them, like the skin of a newborn. I took her hand, steadying it so I could see. “What the hell?” I muttered, leaning in, searching for the burns. “What happened? Why isn’t there—there’s not even a scar.”

  Lex smiled. “Does this mean I can play the racer now?”

  “Hold on,” I said. “Siggy, did you get the incident in the lounge recorded? Answer privately.”

  “Of course, sir,” I heard his voice sa
y in my ear. “Would you like me to replay the footage?”

  I glanced at Lex, who was staring at me, still smiling. It would probably be a bad idea to pull the feed up in front of her. She might be tough, but I didn’t know if she’d be able to sit and watch herself get hurt. Besides, Abigail would fucking kill me.

  “No,” I finally decided. “Just run a quick analysis and tell me how bad the injuries were.”

  I took Lex’s hand and rewrapped the bandage. For some reason, it felt like the best thing to do.

  A few short seconds later, Siggy chimed in with an answer. “Octavia Brie’s initial analysis was partially correct, sir. Lex received second degree burns, but there were also first degree burns along the index finger.”

  I swiveled in my seat, taking Lex’s hand again and looking over her fingers. None of them appeared damaged, far as I could tell. “How long does a burn like that take to heal, Siggy?”

  “Given the medical resources available on this vessel, I would place the estimate at six days. However, there could be scarring and some pigment discoloration afterwards.”

  I let Lex’s hand go. It dropped to her lap, and she stared up at me with big, curious blue eyes.

  I turned away from her, lowering my voice so it was hardly above a whisper. “Siggy, if there’s supposed to be scarring or something, if it’s supposed to be as bad as you said, do you have an explanation for why none of that has happened yet?”

  He answered, “None whatsoever, sir.”

  Five

  I asked Abigail and Octavia to meet me in the cargo bay, not long after my talk with Lex.

  Octavia was sitting in her wheelchair, palms on her wheels. We had to stay on the upper deck, above the stairs, because I didn’t have a ramp.

  “What are we doing in here?” asked Abigail, leaning her ass against the rail. “Does this have something to do with why we stopped in this system?”

  “We’ll get to that,” I said, not wasting any time. “First, have either of you seen Lex’s hand?”

  They both looked at each other. “What do you mean?” asked Octavia. “Are you talking about the bandage?”

  “No, I mean what’s under the bandage.”

  “There’s a wound, last I saw,” she responded.

  “What’s this about?” asked Abigail. “Captain, what exactly happened?”

  “It’s not what happened. It’s what didn’t happen.”

  She tilted her head. “What?”

  I threw my finger out, pointing at the hall. “The kid’s wounds are all healed up. There’s no burns on her.”

  “No burns?” asked Octavia.

  “None,” I confirmed.

  She paused, and I could see her trying to remember. “No, no, I saw them,” she finally said. “She had serious degree burns all down her fingers.”

  “Not anymore. Her skin looks fine now.”

  “I’m sure you just didn’t know what you were looking at,” suggested Abigail.

  “You want me to call her in here?” I asked. “She’s in the lounge playing a game I gave her, but we can get her in here and you can see for yourselves.”

  “Hold on, Captain,” said Octavia. “You’re suggesting that her wounds healed in a matter of hours. Is that right?”

  “I’m not suggesting anything,” I corrected. “I’m telling you what I saw.”

  Abigail motioned at me. “But that is what you’re saying, in your own weird way.”

  “There’s no way those burns could have healed like that. It’s not possible,” said Octavia.

  “Well, they did,” I said, shrugging.

  Abigail looked down at Octavia. “Maybe you were wrong about the diagnosis?”

  “I don’t think so.” She pushed her wheels and swiveled around. “Let’s go talk to her.”

  I stepped out of the way to let her past. For someone stuck in a chair, she sure was quick, rolling through the corridor, wheels clicking as they turned.

  We found Lex exactly where I’d left her, sitting on the sofa playing on a small pad, tilting it left and right as she played. I could see her having a time of it, crashing her ship into the invisible barriers of the racetrack as she moved from one part of the solar system to the next. She was in thirteenth place, failing miserably.

  Poor kid had no skills.

  “Lex, honey, can we speak with you for a moment?” asked Octavia.

  The girl looked up from the screen. “Huh? But I’m racing.”

  “It’ll only take a second,” said Abigail. “You can finish the game afterwards.”

  Lex frowned and looked at me with an expression that said, Please Mr. Hughes, save me.

  I shrugged at her, saying nothing.

  Lex dropped her head, defeated, and placed the pad on the sofa.

  “Can we see your hand?” asked Octavia.

  Lex nodded, and Octavia leaned in and carefully took her palm.

  Abigail and I watched as she examined the girl’s hand, unwrapping the bandage. Octavia’s eyes widen, like she didn’t understand what she was seeing, but she quickly composed herself. “Thank you, Lex,” she said, calmly, and didn’t bother rewrapping the girl’s hand.

  “Can I play now?” asked Lex.

  “Go ahead,” said Octavia. “But can you go in your room?”

  She nodded, and leapt off the sofa, headed down the hall. We waited until she was out of sight before looking at one another.

  “You see what I’m talking about?” I asked the two women.

  “I’m sure the burn just wasn’t that bad,” said Abigail.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” muttered Octavia, staring at the bandages.

  Abigail sat on the couch, looking at the wrap, then at Octavia. “Are you certain you didn’t simply make a mistake about—”

  “I didn’t,” said Octavia, looking up at her. “I’m telling you, that girl had burns on her hands. The kind that don’t heal in a few hours.”

  Abigail started to respond, but I cut in. “I had Siggy look over the footage. He said there was no way those burns could heal that fast.”

  “Sigmond, is that true?” she asked.

  “It is,” said the A.I., his voice filling the room.

  “I just don’t see how it’s possible, though,” said Abigail.

  “Have you ever seen her recover this quickly before?” asked Octavia.

  “Not to my knowledge,” said Abigail, but then she hesitated, almost drifting in thought, like she wasn’t entirely sure.

  I could tell she was having a hard time remembering, so I tried asking the question in a different way. “Have you ever seen her get injured?”

  The nun looked at me. “You know I have.”

  “Oh? Do I?”

  “When that Fratley person came on our ship. Those men, they roughed her up.”

  “No,” I corrected. “They roughed you up, not Lex. I saw the whole thing. Maybe you didn’t, since you were knocked the fuck out.”

  “Careful, Captain,” she said, giving me a look that suggested if I didn’t shut up, I’d regret it.

  “In any case,” interjected Octavia. “Was there another time where she was injured under your watch?”

  The bluntness of the question surprised me. She might as well have asked if Abigail was a neglectful guardian.

  “No, nothing serious,” said Abigail.

  “We may need more information.”

  “What are you suggesting?” I asked. “You want to cut her? See how fast it takes to heal?”

  Octavia was quiet for a minute. “No, we can’t do that,” she eventually said.

  “What’s your suggestion, then?” I asked.

  She paused a second, looking down at the bandage that was still in her lap. She picked it up, and the bloodstained ends of the cloth fell against her arm. “I might have an idea.”

  * * *

  Octavia called for Hitchens to join us in the cargo bay, suggesting he bring an electron microscope, along with Lex. He got there in a hurry, clumsily making his way thro
ugh the corridor with the bulky equipment in his hands.

  “Where shall I set it down?” he asked, breathing heavily as he stepped into the cargo bay. Lex was right behind him, carrying her little rocket ship, flying it in the air and making whooshing sounds.

  “Preferably where I can reach,” said Octavia.

  “Ah, on the table, then.” He waddled over to the side of the room, near the locker. “Here we are.”

  “Lex, honey, can you come here a moment?” asked Abigail.

  The girl did as she was asked, running over to Abby’s side. The nun took her hand and smiled.

  Octavia motioned for her to come closer. “Can I see your hand again, Lex?”

  “Uh huh,” said Lex, extending her arm.

  The assistant archeologist and former Union medic took a small device and placed it gently on the girl’s wrist. It resembled a gun, in a way, with a trigger and a grip. She placed the barrel to the kid’s skin, and I heard a soft click.

  Lex didn’t seem to notice, if there was even any pain. She used her free hand to continue playing with the rocket, flying the toy around her head, and smiling.

  Octavia eventually let her go. “All done,” she said. “You can go play now.”

  Lex didn’t say anything, but instead ran back down the stairs and into the larger part of the bay.

  “What’s your plan here?” I asked, once the girl was far enough away.

  “We’re going to perform an analysis on her skin cells to see what we can find,” said Octavia.

  “What results are you expecting?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure yet,” she admitted. “We may not find anything at all, but there’s something going on. I think we can all agree on that.”

  I nodded.

  “How long will this take?” asked Abigail.

  “Half an hour at most,” she said. “You’re welcome to—”

  My earpiece clicked. “Sir, if you don’t mind,” interjected Sigmond. “There’s a slipspace tunnel opening nearby.”

  I held up my hand to quiet the group, then touched the side of my ear. “Did you say a tunnel, Siggy?”

  “That is correct. I’m running a scan now to determine the arriving vessel’s classification code.”

  “I’ve gotta go,” I said. “Stay here and play with your blood. Or skin. Or whatever. I’ll be on the bridge.”