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

by JN Chaney

  “Is something wrong, Captain?” asked Hitchens.

  “Someone just came out of slipspace, same direction we did. It could be trouble, but I don’t know yet.”

  “Someone?” echoed Abigail. “But we aren’t close to any colonies.”

  I could tell where she was going with this, and I would’ve been lying if I said it wasn’t already in my head. If anyone had come this way, so far from any known colonies, there was a good chance it had something to do with us. That might not be a guarantee, but I wasn’t taking the risk. Not today.

  I started jogging towards the front of the ship, ordering Sigmond to lock the door behind me once I was inside the cockpit. I didn’t have time for any distractions, whether it was from the nun or the kid. I had work to do.

  “Siggy, what do we have?” I asked, grasping the controls, prepared to fire the quad cannon, should the need arise.

  “I detect no incoming vessels,” Siggy responded.

  “None? Then why’s there a tunnel opening?”

  “Uncertain.”

  “Well, you better get certain right fucking now.”

  “Understood, sir. Continuing scans.”

  The rift closed after another moment, sealing the green waves away so that only the stars remained. I sat there, not even blinking. Just waiting like a jackass.

  “Siggy?” I said. “Anything?”

  “No sign of movement,” he answered. “This is most unusual, sir.”

  “Unusual?” I repeated. “When was the last time you saw a slipspace tunnel close without anyone coming through it?”

  “I have no records of such an event.”

  “Neither do I,” I muttered, staring through the display. I touched the console, wondering if maybe Sigmond’s detection protocols were acting up. It had been a while since I had him updated. Maybe he’d missed something.

  No, the secondary scans checked out, or at least matched the results Siggy had given.

  Whatever was going on, it didn’t sit right with me…and I knew better than to ignore that feeling.

  Six

  Seven hours and two slip tunnels later, our scans detected a small moon colony near a system called Proxi Beta, called so because it was the smaller neighbor of Proxi Alpha.

  The system was technically inside Sarkonian space, although there were only a handful of military ships in the area. That was because this colony was still under construction, which is why I’d chosen to come here. It would still be a few months before the system was bustling with enough activity to give me anything to worry about. Until then, I could refuel and resupply, then be on my way, all without anyone noticing.

  Besides, the Sarkonians allowed traders to visit their outermost colonies, which they often set up as commercial zones. It helped keep their crumbling economy alive. Thanks to my Renegade contacts, and using the galnet, I was able to procure some credentials as a salvage operator. It was low key enough to avoid drawing attention, while also giving me a valid reason to be here, off in the middle of nowhere.

  “Does everyone have their assignments?” asked Abigail, standing beside me in the cargo bay. The Renegade Star had just made landfall on the moon, entering its habitation dome and parking in the third-largest of its docking platforms. Spot 226.

  Freddie nodded. “I’m on fuel.”

  “And we’re to stay put,” said Hitchens, referring to himself and Octavia.

  “Right,” confirmed Abigail. “Let’s not take more time than we need. No sightseeing.”

  “I doubt there’s much to see, anyway,” I said.

  “What are you two doing?” asked Freddie, motioning at the nun and me.

  “We’re on ship supplies,” I answered.

  “You mean food,” said Octavia, giving me a look.

  I raised my brow. “That might be part of it.”

  “You just want to eat and get drunk.”

  “I’m the captain of this rig and I get to decide what kind of rations we carry. End of story.”

  “Fine, but at least get something we can all enjoy. Not just meat sticks and all that overly processed garbage you’re so fond of.”

  “I make no promises,” I said.

  Abigail clasped her hands together. “Okay, we’ll reconvene at the ship in two hours. Let’s move quickly.” She glanced at me. “And try not to draw too much attention.”

  “Are you talking about me, nun?” I asked.

  “Who else would she mean?” asked Octavia.

  We left Lex on the ship with Octavia and Hitchens, much to her frustration. She didn’t argue, though, when I told her.

  It seemed the kid was catching on.

  Freddie was just outside, filling the engine with fuel. He’d be the first to return, which meant all Abigail and I had to do was grab our supplies and hurry back. Not a big deal, barring any unforeseen circumstances, but I didn’t anticipate anything crazy. We were in the middle of nowhere on a tiny little moon, no sign or hint of the Union. No cause for alarm.

  In the meantime, I could load up on snacks and beer, maybe even find some candy.

  Abigail and I entered through the large hangar opening of the colony, which was very clearly still under construction. There were metallic beams lying next to the walls, half-completed plaster, and essentially no cosmetic fixtures in place yet.

  None of that had stopped thousands from coming here and filling its streets, of course.

  The colony was made up of three domes. A central, larger dome, with smaller ones on each side. This was a common design choice for colonies this size, and I recognized it immediately. These things were sturdy enough to withstand their share of meteors, because they had to be, but not tough enough that they could handle a full-on assault. That kind of fortified structure would have taken years to build, unlike this, which had sprung up overnight, likely within the last two months. It wouldn’t really take that much to destroy it, should the Sarkonians or the Union get the urge, but I got the impression that this place had been left off the galnet map for a reason.

  “Welcome to Spiketown,” yelled a man with a funny hat as we walked into the massive opening. “Would you care to buy a rifle today? You can’t use them in town, but they’re great for hunting on Decca Three, just a few systems from here. I see you have a handgun there. Might you want some extra ammunition? I’ve got plenty of—”

  “Not interested,” I said with a cold voice that suggested if he asked me again, I might pull out his esophagus.

  “U-Understood, mister,” he answered, slowly backing away.

  A mess of scattered buildings had been built all throughout the dome, lined up side-to-side. “Wonder where the market is,” I said, still scanning the streets.

  Abigail walked up to the same man from before. “Hey, where are all the shops?”

  “Oh, uh, down this street and to the left, but it’s a walk. That’s why I set mine up here, near the entrance. Pretty smart, right? That way I get to greet all you nice—”

  She turned and walked away, leaving him alone to slowly trail off. “Down and to the left,” she said, coming back to us.

  “Simple enough,” I remarked.

  Octavia’s voice popped into my ear over the comm. “Captain, we’re going to ask around the hangar and see if we can find some medical supplies. I believe there has to be some sort of medical facility. I’ll let you know what I find.” There was a short pause. “Although I have my reservations on the quality.”

  “Use the com if things get too hairy,” I said.

  “Don’t worry about us,” said Octavia. “I can handle whatever happens. Focus on obtaining the other supplies.”

  I smirked. “You gonna beat them with your wheels?”

  “Keep talking and I’ll show you firsthand,” she returned.

  I laughed as I started walking, almost believing her.

  Abigail quickened her pace to match mine as we strolled through the streets towards the market. It was a cold city, if you could even call it one, and it smelled of grease and burn
ing rubber, a common side effect of this sort of construction. The streets teamed with residents and visitors, here for gods-knew-what, most of them in their job uniforms.

  We curved around the street, making a left just as the gun merchant had suggested. The market came into view soon, its dozens of tents and hastily built shacks primed for our perusing. I caught a whiff of cooked meat after a moment, and it lingered in the air a while before disappearing. It smelled like charred, smokey beef. As we drew nearer, I spotted a flame-pit with skewers of meat resting on the open fire, and my mouth watered with anticipation.

  Without a word to Abigail, I walked briskly to the merchant, waving a finger to get his attention. He nodded at me and removed one of the skewers.

  I took the rod and tore into the largest piece of meat. It was rough and chewy, with a strange taste that I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t beef, like I had thought, or any kind of fowl that I knew, but something else. Nothing bad, though, not at all. In fact, you could’ve given me just about any sort of meat and I’d be satisfied.

  “How is it?” asked Abigail.

  I grinned with the flesh between my teeth. “Better than you’d expect,” I said, biting off another chunk.

  “Twelve credits,” said the cook, holding up a pad.

  I tapped my ear. “Siggy, transfer the money.”

  “Processing,” said Sigmond. “Transaction complete.”

  The merchant looked at the pad, nodded, and smiled. “Good doing business with you.”

  “Can I just ask,” I said, swallowing and taking another bite. “What is this?”

  “Rombdin,” he said, flatly.

  I had never heard of that before, so I pressed him further. “What’s Rombdin?”

  “You never heard of it?” he asked.

  “Should I? Is it a type of bird or something?”

  “Vermin,” he said with a shrug. “Like a rat.”

  Abigail was standing behind me and gasped, suddenly. “A what?!”

  “Vermin,” the man repeated. “What? You don’t like?”

  I stared down at the meat that was still left on my stick.

  “Jace, put that down!” said Abigail, utter disgust in her voice. “We can’t eat any of this food. How horrible!”

  My stomach growled as my eyes lingered on the skewer. “But…”

  She shook her head. “This is what happens when you don’t ask more questions before you dive into a situation.”

  “But…”

  “What? Don’t tell me you’re thinking about eating the rest of that. Do you know what kind of diseases it might be carrying?”

  “No diseases,” said the merchant. “If you cook rombdin, it kills everything.”

  My mouth salivated at the sight of the meat, its charred skin blending with salt and spice.

  “Jace, please, you’re going to get sick if you—”

  I tore into the remaining meat, ripping the tough Rombdin flesh and scarfing it. I barely chewed before swallowing.

  I raised the skewer and grinned. “Another!”

  The merchant returned my smile and handed me a second helping.

  Abigail’s mouth dropped and she looked away. “I can’t watch this!”

  When I had my fill of the rat-like food, I set the rods on the stone next to the fire pit and got to my feet. “Ready to go? I need to walk this off.” I smacked my belly.

  She wouldn’t even look at me. “You smell like vomit. You know that, right?”

  I grinned. “Smells like a win to me.”

  * * *

  Abigail insisted we only buy food that was shipped and imported, sealed and frozen. I tried to argue in favor of bringing some fresh Rombdin back with us, but she wasn’t having it, so I let it go.

  After loading a cart’s worth of supplies, I decided I wanted to take a piss, so I told Abigail to stay put while I took care of business.

  The nearest restroom was a walk, but there was an alley between two buildings and I didn’t want to wait. I also didn’t see the harm, since it smelled like piss anyway. Leaving the street, I entered the narrow passage and got straight to it.

  Right as I was finishing and zipping up my pants, I heard something move behind me. I turned, my hand on my pistol, ready to draw.

  It was a young woman, dressed in rags, holding an object beneath her arm. “Oops,” she said, nearly bumping straight into me.

  I slid out of the way. “Who are you supposed to be?”

  “D-Don’t mind me, mister,” she said, quickly. “Sorry if I scared you.”

  “You didn’t.” I looked at the box under her arm. It had a unique design on it, with layers of metal overlaying one another, similar to the ancient artifacts Hitchens had found. “Whatcha got there?”

  “Oh, um, it’s nothing,” she said.

  The box, if that’s what it was, seemed about the size of my head, give or take. A little bigger than the one Lex had been playing with when she burned her hands. “What are you doing with it?” I asked.

  “My father has a shop. You can buy it if you want. We have more of them.”

  “How much?”

  “I don’t know. You have to ask him. He’s in charge.”

  I toyed with the idea of stealing it right there, but pushed the impulse away. Abigail would kill me if I swiped something from a kid. “Can you take me to your shop?”

  “Uh, sure, mister. You really wanna buy it?”

  “I don’t know yet, but maybe.”

  She continued toward the street, motioning for me to follow.

  Abigail was still standing next to the little cart with the rest of our supplies. I used the com to tell her what I was doing, since the crowd would only slow me down and I wanted to keep pace with the girl.

  “What do you mean, you’re going to see about a box?” she asked.

  “It’s some sort of relic. Looks a lot like the one Hitchens and Lex were messing with. I figure they might be useful to get. Just take the supplies back and I’ll meet you at the ship.”

  She scoffed. “If you think I’m letting you run off like that, you’re crazy,” she said. “I’ll be right there. Sigmond, please send me Jace’s location.”

  “Understood,” said Sigmond.

  I almost cursed, annoyed at having a potential babysitter, but let it go. “Where’s this place at, kid?” I asked the girl in front of me as we crossed the street.

  She pointed to a medium-sized tent, just ahead of us—red and purple, with event posters stuck to its sides. Apparently, there was a cage match between Mayfew and Cole tomorrow night, two raves a few hours later, and Doro’s Grill was having a sale for the next week. Based solely on the advertisements, I was starting to think this was my kind of town.

  “I’m back,” said the girl, rushing into the tent.

  I followed, entering through the open flap.

  “Welcome back, Camilla,” said a bulking man behind the counter. He had a thick beard that filled out so well you might think he never shaved a day in his life, like he’d been born with it. His forearms were thicker than calves, with a chest so large I wondered why he was working here instead of fighting in a gladiator match on some other world. For all I knew, maybe he once had.

  “This man wants to ask you about the stuff from the pit,” said Camilla.

  “Is that so?” asked the burly fellow. He extended his hand to me. “Bolin Abernathy. Good to meet you, stranger.”

  I shook his hand. “Jace,” I said, simply.

  “What can I do for you, Jace? Are you really interested in buying those boxes?”

  “Might be,” I said. “Depends on the price.”

  He raised his eye. “What can you offer?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid. I’m just a scrapper, so I don’t have too many credits, but I’ll pay what I can if the price is fair.”

  He nodded like he understood. “How about we start with this one and go from there?” He tapped his palm on the box his daughter had brought in.

  “Sure,” I said. “How’s fift
y creds?”

  “That’s not a bad starting offer. Could you do one hundred?”

  I twisted my lip. “Eh, I don’t think so. I can’t get much out of them at that rate. Really, anything over sixty is tough.”

  “Sixty, huh?” asked Bolin. “Well, maybe we can do that price, but you’d have to get more than one.”

  “How many do you have?”

  “This is the only box like this, but we got plenty of other makes,” he said, patting his daughter on the head. “My little Camilla salvages them from the dig sites, but there’s not much to speak of. I only have seven others.”

  “So, that’s eight total?” I asked.

  “Right, but like I said, only one is a box.”

  I nodded, pretending to really think this over. “That’s a tough call. Sixty credits each will set me back.” I had, of course, already decided to buy them. I could probably resell these for ten times that on the free market. “You know what, sure. I’ll do sixty each, but I need to see the rest of them first.”

  Bolin smiled. “A wise decision, my friend!”

  “I hope so,” I said.

  “Camilla, go and get some of the others,” said Bolin.

  She smiled and ran off, into the second part of the tent, behind him.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, how’d a guy like you end up scrapping in a place like this?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “I’m not just a scrapper. I also work for the trading company here. I’m in construction.” He laughed again. “Actually, almost all of us are.”

  “What else are they building here?” I asked. “Don’t tell me it’s just a triple dome, because this is really out of the way for a little colony.”

  He nodded. “The way I heard it, there used to be something else here, maybe a thousand years ago. I’m not sure, but the company I work for decided it wanted to dig. So far, they haven’t found much of anything, but they keep going anyway.”

  A thousand years ago? I thought. That certainly explains the artifacts.

  Right at that moment, I heard footsteps behind me at the tent entrance. I looked to see Abigail poking her head inside, probably checking to make sure I was here. “There you are,” she said.

  “Is this your wife?” asked Bolin.