by JN Chaney
I turned away and started to leave. “See ya later, Fitz. Good talking to you.”
“W-Where are you going?”
“I’ve gotta be somewhere. Call me if you get another job.”
He swallowed, recomposing himself with a large grin. “Maybe I’ll have you steal the rest of his collection next time. I’ll be in touch!”
“So long, Fitz,” I said, leaving his foyer. You crazy bastard.
When I was outside, near my ship, I tapped the com in my ear. “Siggy, how’s my money looking?”
“Ten thousand credits have been transferred from multiple shell accounts into yours,” said Sigmond.
“What’s my total after the transfer?” I asked.
“Ten thousand, forty-seven credits.”
“Hold on a second. You mean I only had forty-seven credits in my account before this? Where the hell did the rest of it go?”
“Fuel and repair costs to the ship, as well as the new coffeemaker you installed.”
I nodded. “All important things.”
“Including the coffee?” asked Sigmond.
“Especially the coffee,” I answered, imagining myself with a cup in my hand, breathing in the delicious aroma. “You don’t have taste buds, Siggy, so I’m willing to let that one slide.”
“You’re so very kind, sir.”
* * *
As we left the planet, Sigmond informed me that we had a call. “From who?” I asked.
“Fratley Oxanos. He wants to speak with you about—”
“Money,” I said, finishing the thought. “Put him through.”
A second later, I heard several voices on the com, each one laughing and shouting. It sounded like a party. “Hello? Is that you, Jace?”
“I’m here, Fratley,” I answered.
“Ah! You ornery boy. Tell me you’ve got my money.”
“I’m working on it. I just did a job and now I’m on my way to collect on another.”
I heard the crowd cheer, including Fratley. “Oh, did you see that? What a score! Sorry, Jace. I’m busy with a game. Did you say you had my money? Because that’s the only answer I want to hear from you.”
“I’ve still got two standard weeks left to pay you,” I reminded him.
He laughed. “Aha! That’s right, you do. How could I forget? I hope you’re not waiting until the last minute, though. I’d hate to track you down.”
“You’ll have it, Fratley. Don’t worry.”
“That’s what I like to hear, Jace! Now, leave the me the fuck alone. I’ve got money on this game and I ain’t losing.”
The line clicked off. “Guess he hung up,” I muttered.
“It would appear so,” said Sigmond.
I leaned back in my seat, trying to relax. I owed that jackass one hundred thousand credits, which was far more than I had. I’d have to pull some serious jobs to get that kind of cash before the deadline. I might even have to sell my ship.
The thought sent a chill down my spine. Fuck that. I’d let him cut my fingers off before I gave up The Star.
If only I hadn’t taken out that loan, I wouldn’t be in such a tight position.
I’d borrowed it from Fratley six months ago to pay for a cloaking device, which I believed would give me the edge I needed in this business to stay at the top. I was half-right about that.
Having a cloak helped more than I ever dreamed, but no matter how useful it might be, if the jobs weren’t coming in, then what good was it?
A little while back, the Union government started cracking down on Renegades, making it even more difficult for clients to find us on the market. This happened from time to time, maybe once every other year, but it never lasted. We used a private network within the Galactic Net to maintain privacy, but sometimes the Union pups got lucky and broke through our security. Sometimes they’d make an arrest, but it was always tough to stick. None of the jobs had names on them. Only codes.
Mine changed every two weeks.
Our guys managed to restore security within a day, but the damage was done. A large chunk of clients dropped contact, leaving me and every other Renegade without any work. They’d all come back, just like every other time this happened, but not for a few more weeks.
Until then, I was out here trying to grab whatever I could. Any job to get the credits so I could pay off what I owed. Fratley didn’t like to give extensions, so I couldn’t count on that. I’d have to find a way to pay the debt before time ran out.
Which was why I needed to check in with Ollie Trinidad, my own personal agent. If anyone had a job for me, it was going to be him.
* * *
I arrived at Taurus Station and ordered Siggy to mind The Star while I was out. “Anyone fucks with you, you know who to call.”
“Station security?” he asked.
“No, you call me so I can shoot their asses. Security would only get in the way.”
“Right, of course,” said Sigmond.
I went straight for the bar, leaving my quarters for later. I wasn’t tired or bored enough to call it a day. Not until I had some booze in me.
Percy’s Bar was in the corner of the promenade, but it wasn’t what you’d call fancy. If anything, I’d say it was a pile of shit, barely holding itself together.
“What can I get you?” asked the barkeep, a new guy I didn’t recognize.
“Where’s Mort?” I said, taking a seat.
“You didn’t hear? Mort died a few weeks back. There was a memorial dinner here. We posted signs around the station.”
“Damn,” I muttered. “Sorry I missed it.”
The man pulled out a bottle of gin and poured a cup. “Here you go, friend. This one’s on the house.”
I took the glass, never one to turn down a free drink. “Thanks, pal.”
I stayed there a while, watching people pass through the promenade with shopping bags and busy conversations. There were only a handful of people in the bar itself, probably because it was only the middle of the afternoon.
“We’ve received a report regarding the attack on Senator Gibson,” said a man’s voice, catching my attention.
I turned to see the Union News Network on the view-screen. The anchor, whom I recognized as Quintin Dallas, was a clean-shaven reporter with brown hair in his mid-thirties. Like every other person on mainstream television, Quintin was nothing more than a mouthpiece for the Union government, spewing propaganda and bullshit at every turn.
I took a sip from my drink as I watched.
“It appears the assassin broke into a special research facility to attack and kill Senator Gibson, most likely because of his affiliation with the New Dawn political movement, which aims to crack down on border security along the Deadlands. The Deadlands, for those unfamiliar with the term, refers to edge of Union-controlled space between the Osiris system and the Velos Nebula. We here at UNN caution all Union citizens to inform your local representative of any suspicious—”
The view-screen clicked off. “I hate that jackass,” said the bartender. “Always spewing lies. I only had it on this channel because of the game before this shit. You know, that senator he’s talking about was corrupt. I heard he was the guy behind the bill that called for all those arrests a few months ago.”
“Arrests?” I asked.
“The government went and seized a bunch of planets near the border, then they arrested anyone with authority or any outstanding warrants. One of ‘em was my brother-in-law. I heard he’s working on a mining colony now. Bunch of politicians ain’t nothing but crooks if you ask me.”
I nodded my agreement, then drank the last of the alcohol, setting the cup back on the counter. “Thanks for the drink,” I said. “I’ll see you next time I’m in.”
“Stay safe, friend,” he said as he wiped the counter with a dirty rag.
I waved my goodbye and headed out into the crowd on the promenade, squeezing my way toward the other end. My next stop would be the parts department and the station fuel center, not to mention a vi
sit to Ollie’s place. All routine whenever I returned from a recent job. This was the part I hated most about being a Renegade.
Check-ins and paperwork. But maybe Ollie had something fun for me to do—another smuggling gig or something involving a break-in. Whatever the case, I was ready to hit the sky again.
Three
“Here you are, Jace,” said Ollie, fanning a pad in my face. “Two thousand creds, the last of your payment from that job you pulled two weeks ago for Antonio Ariguellio.”
I took the pad from his hand, examining the transaction. The funds had been sent directly into my account—one that wasn’t tied to my real name, of course. “Good. Now I can finally afford to get a decent piece of meat on this station.”
“You mean from Jarro’s?” he asked, raising his brow. “Pretty sure they shut down.”
My eyes widened. “What?”
“Yeah, heard the owner fell into some money problems. Borrowed from the wrong guys, you know?” He snickered. “Hey, probably from guys like me.”
I cursed under my breath, handing him back the pad. “Don’t kid yourself, Ollie. You’re not that menacing.”
I started to leave, but he raised his finger. “Hang on, I’ve got another job.”
“Oh?” I said, pausing.
“Two actually.” He glanced at his pad. “Antonio again. He’s asking for you, specifically.”
“What’s it about?”
“Not sure you’ll like it,” he said, twisting his lips.
I could tell by his expression that he was probably right. Ollie knew me better than anyone, much as it pained me to admit. “Just tell me.”
“Looks like his ex-wife took off on him, so he’s putting a hit out. He’s pretty sure she’s in the Deadlands somewhere. Looks like she stole some money and ran off with her bodyguard. It pays thirty thousand creds.”
“Doesn’t she have a kid?” I asked.
He hesitated a second, then nodded. “That’s in here, too. Antonio wants you to take out the boy. He—”
“Pass,” I said without any hesitation. “You know I don’t mess with kids, Ollie.”
He nodded. “I know, but I had to tell you. It’s my job.”
“What else you got?”
“Only one more.” He reached beneath the counter and brought up another pad. “It’s an escort job. You’d be taking a woman to Arcadia.”
“Isn’t that the place with the priests?”
“The Church of the Homeworld, I think,” said Ollie, trying to remember. “Yeah, that’s them. This lady’s got some cargo she needs delivered there.”
I bent over the counter and looked the little man in the eye. “You want me to take some nut back to her cult? What do I look like to you?”
He raised his hands. “Hey, I just give you the jobs, Jace. Don’t blame me if you don’t like ‘em.” He turned the pad around so I could see. The woman had an attractive face, but her clothes hid the rest. She wore one of those baggy gray tunics with a veil over her hair—standard stuff for a member of the Church, far as I could tell. I’d seen a few of these nuts on the news protesting the government, but who knew why. “Come on, Jace, what’s a little girl like that gonna do? ‘Sides, it seems like good money. Five thousand creds. Plus, she ain’t bad on the eyes.”
“Looks like a waste of time,” I said, thumbing the pad away. “What else you got?”
He swiped the screen, frowning. “Uh, looks like nothing’s come in yet.”
“You only got the one?” I asked.
“It’s been a slow week. What can I say?” He grinned, showing his crooked teeth.
I cursed again. “Fine, send it to me.” I looked him in the eye. “She better not be any trouble.”
“Hey, no promises. I just send you the jobs, remember?” he asked, still smiling.
“Yeah, whatever,” I said, grabbing the pad out of his hand. I tapped my thumb to screen to accept the job. “Tell her to meet me at the ship tomorrow, and find me some better jobs while I’m gone.”
“You got it, Jace. Anything for my best,” he said.
Ollie owned a souvenir shop on the promenade that doubled as a Renegade Bounty Office (RBO). This entire station was a common stop for tourists making their way back from the Lenidas system, allowing Ollie to overcharge them for hastily-made trinkets. Everything in this store was absolute trash, but the vacationing executives with too much money were eager to buy them, probably to put on display for all of their spoiled friends.
The joke was on them, though. Half of this crap came straight out of the station’s dumpsters, only to be cleaned and refitted with some wire and hot glue. Ollie probably loved the idea of his little garbage toys sitting on hundreds of mantles, like they were exotic art pieces. What a joke.
Despite all that, Ollie was still the only reliable RBO agent in six systems. I’d had disagreements with a fair share of them, but never him. He always shot straight with me, never tried to steal or do me wrong. I wish I could say he did all that because he had decent ethics, but I think he just valued his health more than a few extra creds. He knew the second he tried to cut my share would’ve been the preamble to his funeral, and I respected him for that, even if he was a crook who sold trash to rich people.
I left Ollie’s little shop and grabbed lunch at a place called Sal’s in the food court. Unsatisfied by the sorry excuse of a sandwich, I went back to my place, a living area about the size of most people’s closet. It had enough room for a bed, a dresser, and a small desk, but not much else. Not that I minded. My job kept me away most of the time.
Besides, when you own a big home, you get comfortable and don’t want to leave. You get lazy and fat, watch too much entertainment, you get boring. No, to hell with that.
I’d take my ship and a job, thanks.
My room smelled like stale bread when I opened the door. I must have forgotten to clean up when I was here last time. No matter. I wouldn’t be around for long.
I tapped my ear. “Siggy, you there?”
“Always, sir,” said Sigmond.
“Looks like we have a new job tomorrow. It’s an escort gig. Should be quick and simple. I’m sending you the coordinates now.”
I entered the passcode for my ship’s digital inbox and transferred the data.
“Received. Uploading now,” said Sigmond. “When should I expect your return?”
My head was foggy from the booze, and I was dog-tired. No way I was getting up before 9AM. “Mid-morning,” I answered. “Call me if I’m not awake by 10.”
“I’ll sound the alarms,” said the AI.
I tossed the pad on the dresser and sat on the bed, sinking into the tiny mattress. I’d have to leave tomorrow for this job. Escort some religious nut to her cult. Not the most exciting work for a Renegade, but simple enough.
* * *
I met Ollie at the airlock outside my ship. “Morning, Jace,” he said with a joyful expression.
“Where’s the nun? Let’s get this over with,” I said.
“Never the morning person, eh?” asked Ollie. “Don’t worry, she’s already inside the ship. Siggy’s keeping her company.”
I squeezed my hand, ready to knock some sense into him. “You let a stranger into my ship? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
He scratched his ear and gave an awkward smile. “I told her it was a bad idea. I even said you’d get pissed, but she told me the sooner she boarded, the quicker you could leave.”
“I don’t care if it takes us half a day to get off this goddamn station, you don’t ever let anyone on The Star without me being here. You got me, Ollie?”
“Yeah, yeah, I got you. But, seriously, Jace, she’s gorgeous. You gotta see.” He raised his brow and gave me a knowing look.
“Ollie, I swear to gods.” I walked past him and through the airlock.
“I’ll see you when you get back!” my friend called from behind me.
“Siggy, you there?” I asked as I entered the corridor.
“Good morning,
sir,” said the A.I.
“What’s the status on our passenger? She in the lounge?”
“The cargo bay, actually,” said Sigmond.
“What for?”
“Ms. Pryar wishes to remain in close proximity to her belongings.”
“Pryar?” I said. “Was that her name?”
“Yes, sir. Did you read the report?”
“Sure, the sections that mattered. Her name wasn’t part of the job.”
“If you say so, sir. Shall I have her meet you on the bridge?”
“No,” I said, passing by the lounge. “I want to see what she’s carrying.”
My ship wasn’t huge, but it had enough space to house several people and a fair bit of cargo. Depending who you were and where you came from, The Renegade Star was either massive and beautiful or a flaming pile of floating garbage. Either way, I didn’t care. My baby kept me alive and got the job done.
The walk from the airlock to the cargo bay was short, saying nothing as I entered the familiar space. The woman stood beside a large, plain-looking crate. “You must be the nun,” I said, plainly.
She turned to look at me, wearing the same garments from the picture I’d seen in Ollie’s shop. They still covered most of her body, keeping her hair out of sight.
However, what she did let people see was beautiful. Large, brown eyes, a thin nose, and a fair complexion. It was a mix of natural beauty and proper grooming. I wondered, briefly, what she might look like in a normal outfit.
“You must be the thug,” she mocked, turning her back to me. “Are we leaving? I’d like to depart as soon as possible.”
“I got that impression when you barged into my ship.”
“I didn’t barge anywhere. Your employer let me in. Besides, would you rather I take my time or do you want to get this over with and get paid?”
I scoffed. “Did you just call Ollie my employer?”
“Isn’t he?” she asked.
“That little runt doesn’t employ anyone but himself. I’m a freelancer.”
“Call yourself whatever you want. Now, can we get going?”
I glanced at the massive crate at her feet. It was about two meters long, half-a-meter wide. “What’s in the box?”
