Renegade Earth

by J. N. Chaney

  Whatever that meant.

  I eased my way into the lounge and let the cockpit door slide shut behind me, leaving Abby alone with her thoughts.

  Freddie was on the sofa, leaned forward and dangling his fingers between his legs, looking nervous. Poor kid probably can’t stop thinking about the job, I thought as I walked over to the coffeemaker table. I pressed the button to start a new brew, letting the pleasant aroma fill the air.

  Freddie didn’t seem to notice, but I wasn’t surprised. The look on his face told me where he was.

  “Where’s Lucia and the Doc?” I asked, calling him back to reality.

  “Hm?” asked Freddie, blinking a few times before coming out of his daze. “Oh, sorry, Captain. What did you say?”

  “I asked where the ladies are,” I said.

  He looked around the room. “Are they not here? Huh. They must have gone to the cargo bay.”

  I said nothing as I reached for two cups and proceeded to pour us each some coffee. When I was done, I sat across from him and placed the two cups between us.

  “Oh, thank you, Captain, but you didn’t have to do that,” he said, reaching for the mug. “We probably don’t have much time before—”

  “Hold on,” I ordered, retrieving a small flask from inside my coat.

  He paused, watching as I poured a small bit of whiskey into both our coffees.

  “There you go,” I said, putting away the flask and raising the cup. “Cheers.”

  He watched me take a drink of the brew, an uncertain expression lingering on his face.

  “Something wrong?” I asked.

  “Are you sure it’s okay to drink before the mission?” he asked.

  “After all the shit we’ve gone through together and you still doubt my methods?” I asked with a light scoff. “Relax, Freddie. I can see all that tension building up from here. You need to let that shit go if you hope to make it through the next few hours.”

  His eyes widened. “I look tense?” he asked, quickly.

  I laughed. “Yeah, a bit.” I took another sip. “That really hits the spot, man.”

  He stared down at his cup, swallowing nervously. “Alright, if you think it’ll help, Captain.”

  “Trust me, kid,” I told him.

  He nodded, then took a long drink of the caffeinated concoction. “Not bad,” he muttered as he lowered the cup.

  “Never question the chef,” I said, taking another drink.

  “Wouldn’t you be a barista in this case?” he asked.

  I cocked my brow. “Excuse me? Why don’t you try that again.”

  He stiffened. “Uh, n-nevermind.”

  I sighed. “So, what’s the deal, Fred? You bugging out at the final hour? Is that it?”

  “Bugging out?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Losing your nerve.”

  He placed his cup on the table and frowned. “Is it that obvious?”

  “You’re like a coat rack with your feelings, wearing them all over your damn face. It’s no way for a man to look.”

  He lowered his eyes to the table. “I don’t know how to fix it. My head just keeps running in circles, asking questions I don’t have the answers to.”

  “What sort of questions?”

  “What happens if this complicated plan doesn’t work? What happens if they figure out we’re not in those ships? What if Sigmond can’t access the—”

  “Gods, listen to yourself,” I said, smirking. I leaned back in my chair and took another drink. “I’d think you were greener than a weed right now if I didn’t know any better.”

  “Green?” he asked. “I’m no soldier, Captain. I’m just a scholar. I’m about as green as they come.”

  “Is that what you think?” I asked.

  He nodded. “It’s the truth.”

  I let his words sit there, between us, lingering like a poison, hoping he’d see the harm in them. When nearly a minute had passed, I decided to finally answer. “You’re an idiot.”

  “S-Sorry?” he asked.

  “I said, you’re an idiot, Freddie. Open your damn ears.”

  “Oh,” he muttered. “That’s what I thought you said.”

  “I sure as shit did,” I told him. “Listen to you. You’ve flown on how many jobs with me since you came aboard this ship?”

  He opened his mouth, about to answer.

  “Don’t answer me!” I snapped.

  He stiffened.

  “Just listen for a minute, would you? Since the day you walked on this ship, you’ve seen more action than most folks could ever dream of. You’ve nearly died, well, I don’t know how many times. Fratley, the Union, the Sarkonians—” I paused. “—the Boneclaws. Maybe you got lucky in the beginning, but now you’re just as stubborn as me.”

  He said nothing.

  “They say you don’t know who you are until you’re looking down the barrel of someone else’s gun. You’ve done that plenty by now, so if you still don’t know who you’re supposed to be, then I don’t expect you ever will,” I said. “Or, maybe you already know, but you’re just too stupid to see it.” I guzzled down the last of my coffee and whiskey. “Only one who can say is you.”

  A heavy breath of silence filled the lounge as Freddie seemed to contemplate my words. Part of me wondered if I’d said the right thing. I wagered I probably hadn’t. I was never very good at these things, always ready to act instead of talk, but I had to give it my best shot. After all, Freddie was a part of my crew, for better or worse, and he deserved whatever I could give him.

  I finally got to my feet, ready to return to the cockpit. “Well, I’d better get back to it. The moment’s almost here.”

  He nodded. “Thank you, Captain. For what you said, I mean.”

  “Forget it,” I answered, waving a hand at him. I walked to the front of the lounge, just beside the cockpit door, and paused. “Freddie, just remember, there’s a reason I always bring your scrawny ass along, and it ain’t because you’re pretty.” I looked back at him. “You hear me, kid?”

  He nodded, a slight smile forming.

  As I stepped into the cockpit, I heard Freddie say what sounded like, “I hear you, Captain.”

  The door shut swiftly behind me.

  Eleven

  The slip tunnel opened a few minutes later than Athena had predicted, but its passengers were the same.

  Five Union cruisers and a familiar carrier emerged, one after the next, each of them surrounded by a fleet of strike ships. I only recognized one of them—The Galactic Dawn, itself, still wearing the scars of our last encounter, but refitted with an array of new artillery.

  Brigham and his fleet had come prepared, no question. There was enough firepower coming out of that tunnel to wipe out a planet, if not an entire solar system.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many Union ships,” muttered Abigail, staring at the holo display with her mouth slightly ajar. “My gods.”

  “Don’t overthink it,” I said, causing her to look at me. “It won’t matter how many ships they have, so long as we follow the plan.”

  She focused on the holo. “Still. I never could have imagined any of this. All these ships for just one child. A child that I—”

  “What did I just say?” I asked, stopping her before she could keep going. I knew where that trail of thought was headed. She was on the edge of blaming herself, and I refused to let her.

  She nodded, looking down at her lap. “Right. Don’t overthink it.” She took a deep breath.

  “Siggy, how you looking with those drones?” I asked.

  Sigmond manifested in front of us, although he was only a fraction of his normal size. Twenty centimeters, by the look of him, standing on the dash right beside my Foxy Stardust bobblehead. “All available drones are currently inside slipspace, sir,” informed the Cognitive. Sigmond walked closer to the bobble, examining its head. “You know, I’ve never studied this helmet so closely. Very fashionable. I can see the appeal.”

  “What’s the deal with ev
eryone’s fascination over my bobblehead?” I asked. “We’re in the middle of something. Try to focus, Siggy.”

  “As you wish, sir,” said Sigmond, placing his hand on the side of Foxy Stardust’s hip. He took the other and stuck it on her shoulder, almost like they were about to dance. “You’ve done a fine job with maintaining this figurine. The paint looks quite fresh.”

  I groaned. “That’s not what I meant.”

  We watched as the fleet moved clear of the slip tunnel exit, migrating towards the nearby planet. Several scout ships went first, holding orbit for several minutes as the cruisers followed.

  “Siggy, what’s the chatter on the comm sounding like?” I inquired, after a short while. “Anything to be concerned about?”

  “Nothing yet. Fortunately, it seems the fleet remains unaware of our presence. The same cannot be said for the transmitter you left on the planet’s surface, however.”

  I nodded. “Perfect.”

  It didn’t take long for the larger ships to arrive, prompting me to let Athena know what was going on, since her sensors were presently limited. “This is Hughes. Athena, you hearing me?”

  “We are receiving you, Captain,” she responded right away.

  “The fleet’s here, but they haven’t started sending ships to the surface yet. Looks like their shields are also up.”

  “They’re likely assessing the situation,” said Alphonse. His voice surprised me, but only for a second. I had to assume he was still on the bridge with Athena. “Once they send a landing party, the shields will drop. The moment that happens—”

  “Siggy does his thing,” I finished.

  “Correct,” replied Alphonse. “If he’s ready, that is.”

  “I’m most assuredly ready, Constable,” declared Sigmond.

  “You heard the man,” I said.

  A light flashed in the corner of the holo, drawing our collective attention to it. Sigmond disappeared from the dash immediately.

  “What’s going on?” asked Abigail.

  “The shields are falling,” informed Sigmond.

  I smirked. “Looks like we won’t have to wait that long, after all.”

  * * *

  The shield fell for nearly a full minute as multiple ships departed each of the cruisers.

  It was during that minute that Sigmond initiated a program allowing him to tunnel through the Union’s communication system, granting him partial access to their data stream. He wouldn’t be able to manipulate their shields or weapons, but he could still influence what they saw and what they heard.

  “Infiltration successful. Please, proceed quickly, Captain,” advised the Cognitive.

  I grabbed the control stick and gave the thrusters a quick boost.

  “No need for caution, sir. All Union ships will be unable to detect your movement, so long as I maintain control,” he added.

  “What about the Sarkonians?” asked Abigail.

  “Those ships can’t detect a cloaked ship unless you’re right up on them,” I explained. “So long as we keep our distance, we should be fine.”

  Abigail flipped through the holo, examining the different ships moving between us and the carrier. “That might be an issue, then. There’s one straight ahead of us.”

  I glanced at the display. “Shit,” I muttered. “Okay, hold tight. I’ll accelerate and cut the engines. We’ll drift our way inside that shield.”

  “Be careful,” cautioned Alphonse.

  “Don’t worry about us,” I told him. “I’m not as green as those recruits of yours.”

  “Fair enough,” he answered.

  I killed the engines, allowing us to continue our trajectory towards the carrier. We had about twenty seconds before the shield went back online. Just enough time for the rest of those strike ships to leave. Meanwhile, the aforementioned Sarkonian vessel was floating quietly in the void between the carrier and the moon. We were far enough that you couldn’t see it with the naked eye, but close enough that their short-range sensors wouldn’t detect our thrusters.

  In all my encounters with the Sarkonians, I’d always been thankful for their lack of engineering prowess. They were a second-rate military with a survivalist mentality, raiding existing colonies and systems for parts, personnel, and supplies, all because they didn’t have the capability to manufacture what they needed to meet their own demand. War was expensive, and as far as I could see, the Union was the only side capable of full self-maintenance. As much as I hated them, they knew how to run an empire. The Sarkonians, on the other hand, were barely holding their shit together.

  Bad for them, but great for my present situation.

  Still, I kept my eyes on the Sarkonian ship until we were safely out of range. The second we were clear, I hit the accelerator again and sent us flying towards the Union carrier.

  We made it just in time with only twelve seconds to spare. The shield raised, surrounding The Dawn in a layer of orange light before disappearing.

  I let out a short breath of relief. “Step one,” I said, turning to Abigail. “Now for step two.”

  * * *

  “You’re sure they can’t see us?” asked Abigail.

  “I’ve never tried to dock a cloaked ship with a Union carrier, so I really can’t say, Abby.”

  She licked her lips and leaned closer to the holo. “If they see us, we’re dead. Whatever you do, don’t scrape the hull.”

  “I’ll keep the paint intact,” I assured her.

  “The Galactic Dawn’s sensors show no activity outside the ship,” said Sigmond, reassuring us as we slowly moved closer to the ship.

  I steadied my breathing and pressed the control sticks into place. Once we were close enough, Sigmond activated the automated docking controls from inside The Dawn, extending the seal to our airlock.

  The clamps locked into place so loud I could hear them all the way in the cockpit. Abigail and I both studied the holo, waiting with baited breath for an alert to trigger inside The Dawn, but after nearly a full minute of silence, nothing came, and we relaxed.

  “Looks like it worked,” I said, glancing at her. “Let’s get the others and grab our gear. We’ve gotta prep before we head into the hornet’s nest.”

  * * *

  “Shield at 100%,” said the automated voice in my ear as I activated the device on my shoulder. As I did, my entire body morphed, resembling a Union Constable.

  I raised my pad to check my reflection on the screen. Clean-shaven, dimples, and barely any crow’s feet around my eyes. I looked ten years younger. Blond hair and brown eyes. A black uniform with three stripes on the collar.

  “I’ll never get used to that,” said Freddie, blinking at me.

  “I think it’s an improvement,” said Lucia. “Much more handsome.”

  “Let’s just get this over with,” I said. “The less time I have to spend like this, the better.”

  “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy this,” said Abigail, activating her shield. She suddenly transformed into a Union officer, although the changes to her appearance were minimal—slightly shorter hair, tied in a bun, and a smaller nose. Other than that and the clothes, she looked largely the same.

  “Let’s see mine,” requested Freddie. He slapped the shield on his shoulder and activated it, causing a blue light to flicker around him, simultaneously morphing his face to resemble a man in his mid-thirties, low-ranking, with black hair, brown eyes, and one of the most forgettable faces I’d ever seen.

  “That’s it?” asked Lucia, leaning in to examine him. “How disappointing for you.”

  “Huh?” asked Freddie. He reached for a pad to check his face. “Oh.”

  “Surprised?” asked Abigail.

  “I didn’t have time to check mine,” he responded.

  “Well, it looks like Athena chose for you,” I said.

  “It’s a good thing, Frederick. You’ll want to blend in,” replied Abigail.

  “Sure,” he said.

  Dressler walked in from the rear and stopped when
she saw us, stiffening quickly. “Holy—” She stopped, then breathed a sigh of relief as she continued down the steps towards us. “For a moment, I thought we’d been boarded.”

  “I’m next,” said Lucia. She tapped her shoulder to activate the shield, quickly transforming her body. Her white hair faded, replaced by a dark chocolate shade of brown, and the wrinkles on her face dissolved into a youthful, admittedly beautiful woman in her early twenties. The drastic shift took the rest of us by surprise, but Lucia seemed unaffected. She looked at her hands, a satisfied smile etched across her face.

  “Whoa,” muttered Freddie.

  “Don’t get any ideas, boy,” said Lucia, giving him a wink. “I’m a married woman, you know.”

  “I take it you chose this look for yourself ahead of time,” said Abigail.

  “You’d be right,” answered Lucia. “Although, I’d rather have kept my hair color, but I’m told white hair is a sign of age for you people.”

  “Not always,” said Freddie.

  “But it’s not common,” replied Abby. “You made the right call in hiding it. We’ll be onboard a Union carrier, surrounded by enemy personnel. The last thing we want is to be found out because we forgot to hide your hair color.”

  I turned to Dressler, since she was the only one left without a shield on. “Your turn.”

  The doctor went to the nearby locker and retrieved the device, smacking it on her shoulder. As soon as she did, a Union uniform formed across her body, although it was from a different division than the rest of us. Her features changed very little, just enough to hide her identity—a larger nose, thicker cheeks, and three beauty marks.

  “Why is yours so different?” asked Freddie.

  “This is an engineering officer’s uniform. It’s more fitting for where I’m going,” explained Dressler.

  “What uniform do I have on?”

  “It looks like—” Dressler studied him for a second. “—Support Services.”

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “You make the food,” said Abigail.

  “Not always,” corrected Dressler. “Sometimes you handle gym equipment and clean the laundry. It depends.”

  “Well, which one am I?” he asked.

  “That’s difficult to know from looking at you. Should anyone ask, I suggest you tell them you’re between shifts.”