by J. N. Chaney
“Might as well, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, Siggy.”
“Agreed, sir.”
According to the plans Max had given me, my target was a toy factory based out of this solar system. It was big, sophisticated, and apparently equipped to create far more than trinkets for kids.
As the Renegade Star rumbled beneath me, I rubbed my neck and sorted through what I could remember of the handoff.
Something about the assignment still rubbed me wrong, and I needed to figure out what it was before I got down to the surface and found out the hard way.
2
Three days ago...
“Don’t worry about it,” Max said as he sat there in the lounge of the Joslyn Royal Hotel, holding an etched highball glass with fruit floating among the ice. With his free hand, he poked his fork into a delicate cut of steak on a frilly plate inlaid with some sort of golden flower. Blood pooled on the fork as he prodded the medium-rare meat. “You’ll ace this and be back before you know it, Jace. In and out. Easy.”
I leaned my elbows on the white table cloth and adjusted in my seat, noting the empty place setting before me.
Guess he wasn’t going to buy me dinner.
“Where’d we get the access codes?” I asked.
Max gave me a wry smile. “Disgruntled employee. Someone the company fired. Unjustly, of course. My contact never did a thing wrong in his life, so he was more than happy to sell them out for revenge. Easy pickings, my friend. The codes are on this pad, along with a map to take you to the R&D department.”
He tossed me the thin pad, and I caught it as the two security guards behind him adjusted their weight. With their backs to us, they stared off into the restaurant as waiters darted by with plates of sizzling meat. I turned the thing on as the earthy aroma of roasted potatoes wafted past, and I couldn’t stop my mouth from watering even as I tried to distract myself by skimming the details on the pad.
“Simple snatch and grab,” insisted Max as he took another sip of his dainty little drink.
“Yeah, in and out,” I muttered, not bothering to mask my sarcasm.
The plan was hardly simple, but I’d been through worse.
Sneak down to the planet, con my way into the factory, swipe a company uniform if I could find one—or just walk right in if I couldn’t—and look for a blue plastic box marked “0938.” With any luck, nobody would notice me, but I had fake credentials if anyone got too curious—and a pistol if they got too eager.
If I got really lucky, I’d find a few items worth pocketing for myself that I could fence, although that usually only happened in fancy estates with happy little vaults filled with expensive toys.
I was doubtful I’d come across a crown or old artifact in a toy factory, but a guy could dream.
“Sir,” said Sigmond, interrupting my thoughts. “We are currently out of reach of the orbital security satellites, and we are clear to descend to the planet. I recommend docking at—oh, dear.”
That didn’t sound good. “What, Siggy? You can’t say ‘oh, dear’ and not tell me what’s going on.”
In the holo, the Reliant’s engines roared to life, and the hull shifted away from us as the transport ship altered its course and finally began to enter orbit.
We had arrived.
“Sorry, sir,” said Sigmond. “The Reliant is dropping its shields to prepare for inspection. I recommend—”
“I’m on it,” I said as I grabbed the controls. “Hold on to your pants, Siggy. It’s time to take off the training wheels.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but this ship does not possess any wheels. Perhaps—”
“Stow it,” I snapped, while simultaneously sending the Star into a dive toward the planet.
The holo adjusted as we maneuvered, giving me snippets of the towering skyscrapers far below as we dropped into the planet’s oxygenated atmosphere. The city was called Reto. It was the largest port on the planet, and also one of the more corrupt, according to the brief research I’d done on my way here. Anything—or more to the point, anyone—could be bought or sold for the right price.
I switched the holo to show hull sensors. My shields were aglow with heat from the drop, but so far things were stable. Quickly, I flipped the holo to scan behind us, toward the orbital ships. The Reliant had begun docking procedures with another vessel, presumably for inspection. Good. No one had taken notice of me. All I had to do was land and pretend I was—
Something slammed against the shield, causing a warning light on the holo to flash rapidly.
“Siggy!” I bellowed as I tightened my grip on the controls. “What the hell was that?”
“It would seem a local avian animal of some sort has crashed against the shield. No damage sustained.”
“Let’s try to avoid another splat if we can, Siggy. I’d rather not get a fine today for killing local wildlife.”
“But sir, you had full manual control,” he reminded me.
“Details,” I muttered as I pulled the Renegade Star out of its dive.
We settled into the air, and as the holo adjusted to show the horizon, I let out a slow breath of relief.
No one could say I lived a dull life.
I tapped a few keys beside the holo, and the image adjusted to a full-width scan of the cityscape far below.
“I detect six on this planet that meet your criteria, sir.”
“Take us to the port closest to our target,” I said as I took in the view. “Let’s get this snatch and grab over with.”
“Apologies, sir,” replied Sigmond. “We cannot dock at the closest port to our destination due to them being full. Diverting to secondary interstellar landing port.”
“Must be a busy place,” I said, fanning my hand at the speaker. “Let’s just get this thing cleaned up, Siggy.”
“Of course, sir.”
“How far is this secondary port from the factory?”
“Ten minutes by shuttle, sir.”
I frowned. It wasn’t the worst news in the world, but it left me exposed on a planet that had Union connections.
Sure, Pratus wasn’t officially part of the Union, but the Deadlands planet had a trade deal with them, making it a prime location for Union ships to dock. In exchange for access to certain markets and imports, the Pratus government would alert them if they ever came across a person of interest.
Like a Renegade, for example.
“Arriving now, sir,” announced Sigmond. “Shall I authorize payment?”
“How much?” I asked.
“Fifty-two credits for docking fees, and standard price for fuel.”
“Fifty two?!” I threw my hands up in frustration. “For what? Are they going to wax my ship and give me a foot rub?”
“I do not believe so, sir, but I can make the inquiry if you would like.”
I chuckled and pinched the bridge of my nose. “No, Siggy, I was just being an asshole. Go ahead and authorize refueling so we can get out of here the second this job is done.”
“Yes, sir.”
I would have to give the Star a proper cleaning once we got paid.
The interstellar port loomed on the holo as we neared, and the Star shuddered as docking clamps grasped the ship to hold it in place.
“We are locked into the port,” said Sigmond. “Thrusters disabled.”
A moment later, the ship began to vibrate as the automated docking system hauled us into the warehouse-sized docking port. As the vibrations channeled through the hull, my Foxy Stardust bobblehead nodded along.
“We are fully docked, sir,” said Sigmond.
“Good,” I said. “Call me a shuttle using one of our fake aliases. I don’t need to raise any red alerts while I’m here.”
“Very good, sir,” said the AI.
I pushed myself to my feet and set my palm against the pistol at my side, more out of habit than need. Time to get extra ammunition and a bandana to hide my face from any street-level scanners I might come across on my way to the factory. I had no warr
ants in this system, necessarily, but if a scanner caught my face during a heist, it’d mean trouble in the long run.
My boots thudded across the metal floor panels as I walked to the small weapons locker in the cargo bay, and I thumbed through what little I knew about the job on my way.
According to what I could find on the gal-net, Nataki Incorporated was an average manufacturer of toys, mostly known for their Ornery Dolls collection. They had dominated the gal-net ads when I was a kid, but that was because no one wanted to buy one. They were nothing but a knockoff of a better toy.
B-level player or not, the company’s products had their fair share of rivals—and that was probably why I had a job right now. Rumor had it the toy company had built something new. Something revolutionary. Something that would defy expectations and alter the industry forever. And something kids would actually want.
In the end, all that mattered to me was whether or not I got paid. I’d do the deed, take my money, and be on my way. Renegades didn’t get paid to ask questions.
That wasn’t to say I didn’t ask any at all. I had a list. It was my own little messed up code of honor, so to speak.
One—was the price worth the risk?
Two—could I trust the client to actually pay?
Three—were any kids involved?
I was fairly flexible on the first two, but not the third. If a client ever asked me to kill or hurt a kid, I refused the job and moved on. Every RBO agent I worked with had to understand that, even if they didn’t like it.
So far, question three had already lost me two agents.
When I reached the locker, I slammed my fist on the nearest one, and the metal door popped open with practiced ease. I rummaged through the boxes of ammunition along the bottom shelf, ignoring the four rifles hanging on the upper rack for now.
Rifles weren’t exactly discreet.
An alert blared through the speaker system, and I jumped as the piercing screech caught me off guard.
“Damn it all,” I muttered. “Siggy! What the hell?”
“Apologies, sir,” said the AI. “Your shuttle is arriving now.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath to settle my pulse. “You don’t need to blare the alarm every time something happens, Siggy. Just tell me.”
“Understood, sir.”
I hesitated, wondering if he knew to still sound an alarm if it was something important, but I didn’t have time to hash out details right now. “Siggy, order the shuttle to dock and start the refuel the moment I leave. I want to be able to bail the moment I get back.”
“Yes, sir,” said the AI.
I stuffed the ammunition in the utility bag on my belt and slammed the locker door shut. With my thumb resting on the pistol at my side, I rolled out my shoulders and prepared to get the job done.
“Time to steal some useless shit from rich people,” I muttered.
3
I stood at the front of my borrowed shuttle with my arms crossed, the gentle rumble of the small four-person craft vibrating through my boots as I watched the towering skyscrapers soar past the front window.
Other shuttles sped past, the lanes of traffic chaotically darting between buildings as we blended in with the daily commuters. More than one raced overhead and cut me off, gunning it as they swerved in front of my shuttle, but I didn’t care about some Deadlander’s road rage.
The last thing I needed right now was a collision with an idiot trying to get to work.
I whistled softly under my breath as I watched the sleek vessels dart past in every direction, left and right, overhead and below. Most of the time, a Deadlands planet had a few back-alley black markets and more dirt than asphalt, but this place, with its advanced tech and towering skyscrapers, felt almost like a Union planet.
I hated it.
“You’re sure there’s no surveillance in this thing?” I asked softly, casting a wary glance across the cramped interior.
Aside from the empty pilot’s seat beside me, the craft only had room for three other seats along the back wall. Long strips of silver tape covered holes in two of the cushions, and that told me everything about the level of care they gave the engines, too.
“Affirmative, sir,” said Sigmond through my earpiece. “Your alias was accepted without issue, and I strove to find a shuttle service that stressed the protection of their clients’ privacy.”
“Probably because they can’t get legitimate clients,” I muttered.
“Indeed, sir,” said the AI. “Regardless, I have commandeered control of the shuttle in order to confirm you are in the clear. Should any surveillance systems attempt to take control of the shuttle, I will block their access.”
“Good job, Siggy.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“What kind of mapping systems do they have in this heap?” I leaned my palms against the dash and scanned the various buttons along the display. “Show me where we’re going.”
A glowing blue holo erupted at the top of the dash, and a tint across the front window darkened to allow me to better see the hologram before me. The city map appeared, its criss-crossing streets cutting through the towering buildings as we dove between them.
A blue, pulsating dot at the edge of the holo flashed within the interstellar docking port we’d left behind—the Renegade Star, already refueled as much as my strained budget could allow and ready to leave the moment we finished this job.
More importantly, a red dot pulsed about twenty kilometers ahead of us, flashing from within the confines of a massive warehouse.
My target.
“Find a good drop location,” I ordered.
“I recommend this lot here, sir,” replied Sigmond as he added a second blip of throbbing red light to an empty lot about half a block away from the factory.
I absently rubbed the back of my head and tapped a data pad beside the holo. As the image zoomed in on the landing site, the vague blue lines outlining the lot became a detailed scan of the surface.
To my disappointment, a two-person shuttle rested on the cracked asphalt, right in the middle of my drop-off zone. The tiny vehicle had a sleek curve to its frame, and the front window had a dark tint on it to block any light from scorching the interior. I’d seen some of the local shipping companies snatching up these sorts of cruisers, but it didn’t make sense for a new ship to be abandoned in an isolated lot this far from the central hub.
It seemed like I wasn’t the only person up to no good today, but the problem was this particular vessel was in my way.
I wanted the damn thing to move, and glaring at the image in the holo didn’t seem to be doing the trick.
“That’s a bad sign,” I muttered.
“It is, sir,” agreed the AI.
“Scan it, Siggy,” I ordered. “Is anyone in it?”
“One moment,” said Sigmond. After a few tense seconds of me tapping my thumb anxiously on the dash, his voice piped through my earpiece again. “Negative, sir. The shuttle is empty and lacks an AI to control it remotely. It appears whoever flew it here controlled it manually.”
“Bad move on their part.” I let out a slow breath. “We need that payday, Siggy. This ain’t great, but it could be worse. I’m going to ping the vehicle with a tag. I want you to hack the shuttle’s systems in case we need to disable them on our way out. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” said the AI. “I shall endeavor to destroy any chance of their escape, should they get in your way.”
I grinned. “Now that’s more like it, Siggy. See? You’re getting the hang of this Renegade life.”
“I aim to please, sir.”
We touched down briefly, just long enough for me to tag the little cruiser, then I was back in my shuttle.
“Let’s head out and go make some money.” I cracked my neck. “Find us another spot. Somewhere closer, if you can manage.”
“I have located three other potential landing sites,” informed the AI. “Though I didn’t recommend it initially because of its
slightly greater risk of discovery, my new recommendation is that we land on top of the factory itself. The security authorization we obtained should allow us to dock there, if you desire.”
The holo adjusted automatically as Sigmond spoke. The display zoomed in on the factory and highlighted a landing pad in the center of the roof. Four small cruisers sat dormant in the roof’s docking bays, but no one walked along the lone pathway connecting the various docking stations.
“You think we can really get away with landing on the roof?” I asked.
“I believe so, sir, though it does have more risk than the abandoned lot. According to my current data, I see no reason why we would encounter any issues.”
“All right, then,” I said with a shrug. “Take us up. How do I get inside from there?”
“From the roof, I have identified three possible entry points,” explained Sigmond. “Two are accessible by ladder. One would require you to jump between this building and a smaller one to the north.”
“I’m not willing to break my leg for this job, Siggy,” I said, fanning my hand at the holo. “Broken bones cost extra. Let’s take the easy way and do this as smoothly as possible. No mistakes.”
“Of course, sir.”
Within a few minutes, we were hovering over the top of the factory. I sat at the controls and eased the ship in, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be taking a smoke break outside.
Thankfully, the docking bay remained empty as I settled my ship on the factory’s roof. A magnetic arm grasped the shuttle, holding it in place as a mechanical walkway rotated on a hinge and extended its reach straight up to the shuttle’s door.
“Deploying codes,” said Sigmond. “Waiting for authorization to open the doors and gain security feed access.”
The moment of truth—either our credentials would be accepted, or I’d be in deep shit.
“Be ready for anything, Siggy,” I ordered. “While I’m in the building, tell me if you spot any visitors up here.”