Origins: The Complete Series

by J. N. Chaney

  “What’s that, sir?”

  “If she really was a Renegade, she was a rookie. I got the drop on her too easily and took her gun. What Renegade lets another man take their gun?!” I shook my head and rubbed the stubble on my jaw. “Hell no. You always find a way to swipe it back. Makes me wonder if Max sent more than one person on this mission. If he did, I’m going to have some choice words with that asshat.”

  “Could the original client have hired them?” asked Sigmond.

  “Possibly,” I confessed. “I don’t think we’ll know for sure until we reach Max’s place. How long until we leave slipspace?”

  “We will exit slipspace in approximately fifteen hours, sir,” replied Sigmond.

  “Good,” I said, stretching. “Keep us on course and wake me an hour before we get there. I’m going to get some sleep.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  “Sir,” a voice said from all around me, stirring the fog of a half-finished dream.

  “What?” I slurred, trying to place the voice.

  So familiar.

  I rubbed my face, and the sting of exhaustion burned behind my eyes. Something weighed on my face, the soft fabric pressing against my nose and making it hard to breathe.

  A blanket.

  “Siggy?” I yawned and threw off the blanket, then I sat up in bed and ran a hand through my tousled hair. “Are we there?”

  “One hour remains in our voyage, sir,” said the AI. “We will leave slipspace shortly.”

  I tried to shake some of the fog from my brain. Why did I feel so tired? Where had this headache come from?

  My eyes cracked open and I noticed the half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey on the floor.

  “Oh, yeah,” I mumbled. That also explained why my mouth was so dry.

  Moving on autopilot and barely even awake yet, I staggered to the bathroom, pissed, showered, and dried myself before getting dressed.

  After roughly half an hour, I managed to haul my ass into the galley. My piece of shit coffee maker sat on the counter, and I snatched the lone remaining canister of ground beans from beside it. As I pried the lid off, the stale aroma rolled over me, and I sighed with disappointment while I stared at the handful of old grounds left at the bottom.

  This was what my life had become. Barely enough of anything to keep going, whether it be fuel, food, or most importantly, coffee.

  At least my coffee maker worked. Most of the time. With its rough edges and welded sides, it looked like it’d been patched together from engine parts.

  And tasted like it, for that matter. But, it was better than nothing.

  I poured the remaining stale coffee grounds into the machine and tapped the screen on the front. The device shuddered like it was in its death throes—like it always did when I turned it on—and steam spewed from along the back where a few screws were loose.

  “Siggy, remind me to buy coffee as soon as I finish with Max.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied the AI.

  “How long until we exit slipspace?”

  “We will exit slipspace in approximately twenty minutes.”

  I poured myself some of the dark brew and brought it close to my nose, inhaling deeply and regretting it almost instantly as the stench of motor oil mingled with the hearty aroma of the beans.

  I took a cautious sip. It was coffee, sure, but it tasted as though it had been filtered through a dirty sock.

  “Siggy, remind me to get a new coffee maker, too.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Sigmond. “However, perhaps cleaning it in between uses might improve the taste?”

  “Me? Clean?” I snorted. “Nice try, Siggy.”

  After making my way back to the cockpit, I sat down in my chair hard enough to make it squeak and watched my Foxy Stardust bobblehead nod along to the ship’s vibrations. The emerald lightning of slipspace buzzed through the windows along the side of the cockpit, and I studied it.

  Hell, caffeine was caffeine, even if it tasted like stale socks and motor oil.

  I lost myself in thought as I studied the electric current of the other dimension, my mind racing as fast as the lightning outside. One way or another, something was still off with this job, and I just wanted it to be over.

  “Exiting slipspace in thirty seconds,” announced Sigmond, his calm voice interrupting my thoughts.

  I grabbed the controls. A second later, the end of the slip tunnel split open, revealing the darkness of normal space.

  And just like that, we were out.

  “How’s our fuel?” I asked as I tapped a few keys along the dash to stabilize the rear engines.

  “Currently, our fuel reserves are at seventy-nine percent,” replied Sigmond.

  “See? I told you we’d make it.”

  I tapped the pad beside the holo, and the glowing blue image adjusted on command to display the Roldago Station.

  “Find us an open refueling dock that doesn’t mind if we take our sweet time,” I said. “Max had better have my money. How many credits are in my account?”

  “Currently, your account contains ninety-three credits.”

  “Damn,” I muttered. “That’s cutting it close. Luckily, I’ll have a more to my name in just a few hours. Let’s get moving, Siggy.”

  “At once, sir.”

  Nestled in the heart of the planet Leoda, the Joslyn Royal Hotel towered over the surrounding walkways. Its spires stabbed at the sky beneath a glass dome that showcased thousands of stars in the expanse of space beyond the planet it orbited. Regal and gilded, the brick building dominated the towering greenery planted around its foundation brought to mind quiet wealth and sophistication. Glass windows were everywhere, along with manicured trees, flowers, and walkways. I never checked into how much a room was. If I had to ask, I figured I couldn’t afford it.

  Max Ventrose didn’t seem to have any problem, though. As far as I knew, he’d taken up permanent residence at the place. His room must’ve come with free meals because he’d been stuffing his face every time I met with him so far.

  Maybe it was a power move to eat while a Renegade’s mouth watered. Maybe he just loved a good meal.

  I would never know.

  With my pistol at my side and Sigmond in my ear, I held the box beneath one arm. I’d draped a cloth over it to hide its obnoxious blue color, which I was pretty sure could be seen from space.

  “Let’s get this over with,” I muttered into the comm.

  “Best of luck, sir,” replied Sigmond.

  I walked toward the hotel at a brisk pace, scanning the sparse crowds gathered throughout the walkways as I passed. Most wore plain coats, and more than one covered his face with a bandana. I sized each man up as I passed, wondering how many of these folks were Renegades who used Max as their RBO.

  And, more importantly, how many of them had been tasked with stealing the box I now held.

  I pushed open the glass doors to the hotel with my shoulder and scanned the four-story-high lobby. A waterfall crashed nearby. It must be nice to be rich enough to waste that much water. Artificial trees shivered in the simulated atmosphere as I stalked my way along the red carpet to a gold-plated reception desk in the center of the room. A blonde in a white dress stood as I neared, a strained smile on her face as she gently tilted her head in welcome. Her ruby-red lips parted, but I didn’t give her the chance to launch into a well-rehearsed request for a ruffian like me to leave.

  “I need to see Max Ventrose,” I interrupted. “Jace Hughes.”

  “Oh! Mr. Hughes,” she said, nodding as her shoulders relaxed. “Yes, of course. Mr. Ventrose happens to be in the restaurant currently. Please take this path to the left, and you’ll find him.” She gestured with an open palm toward a long walkway lined with gold carpeting.

  “Thanks.”

  I stalked off toward the restaurant and came across a long stretch of tables sandwiched between a glass wall and a row of tall trees. The elusive crash of a waterfall followed me, even though I still couldn’t spot the damn thing.
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br />   Despite the dozens of people sitting at over half of the tables, Max was easy to find. He sat beside the glass wall with a few plates of food in front of him and a pile of dirty ones off to one side.

  As I walked up, he smiled, still chewing, and he dribbled some soup or something into his short goatee. I did my best to hide my grimace.

  After all, he was going to pay me. No sense in pissing him off.

  I set the box down—maybe a little harder than necessary—on my side of the table. “Let’s get down to business, Max.”

  “Don’t put that out in the open,” he hissed, motioning toward the box. “Someone might see it. Quickly, move it under the table.”

  I did as he asked before noisily sliding a chair from a nearby table to sit down across from him.

  “Where’s my money?” I asked, getting straight to the point.

  “A man can’t even finish his soup?” he asked.

  “The money,” I repeated. “The longer you keep me here, the more it’s going to cost me for parking at the docks. Seriously, I have no idea why you people stay here.”

  Max looked thoughtful for a second before replying. “I stay here because of how beautiful it is, both inside and out. It is beautiful—wouldn’t you agree?”

  I glanced around. It was nice, sure, but all I could see were the things that needed stealing. All it would take was an opportunity and the right person to sell them.

  I shrugged.

  Max frowned. “Well,” he said. “I suppose it’s a matter of taste.”

  “Let’s get this over with, Max.” I rubbed my jawline and stared him down. “I’ll take another job, too, if you’ve got one.”

  “Yes, of course,” he said, shoving several dirty plates out of the way until he uncovered a data pad beneath the mess. It had an orange stain on it, perhaps a pasta sauce of some sort, and I wondered how the man hadn’t eaten himself to death yet.

  After tapping a few commands into it, he set it down and tucked the napkin into his collar once again.

  I tapped my ear. “Siggy, verify the transfer and give me a new total.”

  “Of course,” replied the AI into the comm. “At this time, your balance is one thousand eight hundred and ninety-nine credits.”

  “What’s that?” I asked. “Did you say I had less than two thousand creds?”

  “Yes, sir,” Sigmond replied.

  I glared at Max with what I hoped was enough hatred to light the son of a bitch on fire. “You’ve got some nerve,” I growled. “The job was for five thousand credits, Max.”

  Max shrugged. “I had to deduct a sizable percentage for finding you the job, Jace. It’s standard procedure.”

  “Like hell it is,” I snapped. “Over a third of the promised bounty is one hell of a finder’s fee. You think I’m so new that I can’t tell when I’m being fleeced? You’re supposed to take that off the top before you offer the job, asshole. I want the rest of my money.”

  “You got what you’ve earned,” he said. “I know how this system works, and I know there is nothing you can do about it. Go ahead. Tell your friends how small a percentage you got paid. What are they going to do? Not come to me for work? I’m the only one who can get you decent jobs.”

  I put my elbows on the table and leaned closer to him, snaring his beady little eyes as I glared him down. “You forget, Max, that you’re a dick and I’m the one with the gun.”

  “Correction, Jace,” he said, dropping his tone to match mine. “You’re the one with the gun, and I’m the one with security planted every ten meters in case idiots like you try anything stupid.”

  I gritted my teeth, wondering if that was a bluff. True, he didn’t have his security right with him this time, but maybe he’d just gotten complacent.

  As the soft hum of conversation filled the air, I slowly scanned the restaurant around us. Sure enough, two men in black suits watched me from a mere ten meters away, their eyes narrowing as our gazes met. I shifted my gaze and saw another pair of goons leaning against a nearby wall, their arms crossed as they stared me down.

  “Damn it,” I muttered.

  “Tell you what, Jace,” said Max. “I was too harsh before. Honestly, I like you. You’re quick, you’re smart, and you’re discreet. Since this is our first job together, I just need to know how good you really are. Work for me for a year—maybe two—and I’ll cut my finder’s fee completely. You’ll make more money, and I’ll know I’ve found someone different than the rest.”

  “Different how?” I asked, playing along even though I knew he was lying through his teeth.

  “Reliable,” he said. “Most of you Renegade types are fly-by-night. You can’t wipe your own assses without a detailed map and instructions. You pretend to be brave cowboys, only to fail at the last possible minute. Do you know how many of your types I’ve found on the arrest records? You asshats have ties to me, and I’m not about to let the Union hunt me down when you screw up a gig.”

  “Let’s talk about screw ups, then,” I muttered as I planted both my hands on the table and leaned in.

  The bodyguards in my periphery started closing in.

  “When I got to Pratus, someone was already stealing the box,” I explained.

  “Well, of course,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

  “Why did you hire two Renegades to do the job?” I snarled.

  “I didn’t. I put out an open call to freelancers and Renegades alike. I don’t know who you happened across, but I don’t give a shit if that hurts your ego, Jace. This item you brought back is scheduled to go into production in less than a year, so there was no time to waste.”

  I imagined what it might feel like to wrap my hands around the fat man’s throat. The only thing holding me back were his bodyguards and the fact that they’d probably kill me before I could finish him off.

  How disappointing.

  “Sit down, Jace,” Max ordered. “I’ll give you your next job, and you can be on your merry way to paying off that ship of yours in no time.”

  “Go to hell,” I replied.

  He quirked one eyebrow, and a slight smirk broke across his face, as if he was watching a child throw a tantrum. “Pardon?”

  “You heard me. I’ll never work for you again.” I kept my eyes on him to drive my point home. “You forget you’re not the only agent in this region. You’re not special. You don’t even get the best gigs. You rely on rookies who don’t know better, and I’m not your mark. I could’ve made you real money, Max, but you got greedy.”

  “Jace, hey, let’s talk about this,” he said, gesturing for me to sit. “Are you hungry? Let me order you something.”

  “The only thing I want is my damn money,” I snapped.

  He pursed his lips. “No can do, Jace.”

  I shrugged. “Then there’s no way I’m going to do any more jobs for you—and you’d better hope you don’t get in my way again.” I motioned to the nearest security guard, who kept a short distance from us. “Things might not go so smoothly next time.”

  “You’re making a mistake,” Max warned.

  I shook my head. “No, Max. I’ll be fine, but you just lost a Renegade who can complete jobs in half the time of the competition. You just made the biggest mistake of your life, but I’ll have another agent by tomorrow.”

  With that, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the hotel to the tune of Max shouting my name, only to have his voice drowned out by the crash of the waterfall.

  “Authorize a refueling, Siggy,” I said into my comm. “Just top it off. I want to get the hell off this rock the second I board, you hear?”

  “Of course, sir,” replied the AI.

  One way or another, I’d make that asshole Max Ventrose pay his bill.

  No one cheated Jace Hughes.

  5

  “That son of a bitch.”

  I smacked my palm against the metal wall of the cockpit in the Renegade Star as I paced across what little room there was.

  “He does indeed sound like quite
a rogue, sir,” Sigmond agreed.

  “A rogue?!” I snapped. “What are you, a nun? He’s an asshat.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “A bastard.”

  “Indeed,” replied the AI.

  I went on like this for a while, losing myself in half-mumbled obscenities as I stormed through the cockpit with my hands on the back of my head.

  When my rage finally began to die, I stuffed the simmering embers of my hatred deep into my soul. I found myself staring out at the stars and the inky blackness through the narrow side windows as the silent seconds stretched into minutes.

  “I knew a Renegade’s life wasn’t a charmed one,” I admitted. “But I can’t seem to stay ahead of being short on cash. This job was supposed to give us a break for once.”

  “Perhaps it is time to find a new agent,” suggested Sigmond.

  “That’s first on my list, Siggy. We’re going to pay our friend Ollie a visit.”

  “Is this Ollie person reputable, sir?”

  I scoffed. “Not in the least. He makes art out of garbage and sells it to tourists like it’s more precious than gold, but I’ve heard decent things about him as an RBO Agent. The only reason I haven’t tried him before is that he’s in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Shall I prepare a message, sir?”

  I sighed. I didn’t have a lot of money, and getting to Ollie wouldn’t be cheap, but I didn’t have a lot of choices, either.

  “Do it,” I said. “Let him know I need a reliable RBO Agent, and that if he tries anything with me—well, maybe I’ll leave the death threats for later.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  “And find out his fees up front, will you?”

  “Yes, sir. Setting standard encryption and sending your message now.”

  In the meantime, I stalked to the cargo bay and opened the last locker, one that had previously been empty until my run-in with the lady thief on Pratus. I smacked my fist against the metal door, and the locker popped open immediately.

  Her gun sat on a hook against the back wall. I hadn’t taken the time to investigate it in detail before, being as I had places to be and money to collect, but I wanted to check out my new toy.