Origins: The Complete Series

by J. N. Chaney

  “Hell yes, Siggy,” I said. “Let’s get off this rock and play with our new toy.”

  “Right away, Captain.”

  The cargo bay gate whirred to life, opening right on cue as I approached. I paused with my hands on my hips, just out of range of the door to let it run its course, and I scanned the world around me as I waited.

  Fratley was nowhere to be seen.

  I suddenly doubted the man had overseen the installation at all. It seemed like the sort of thing he’d do—show up as an excuse to squeeze a few more creds out of me. I didn’t used to think so little of him, but it was hard to have much respect for a man who had enjoyed strong-arming me out of so much money.

  The cargo bay door thudded on the metal ground as sparks flew overhead. I stared up at a ship suspended by a crane in the air above us. A man on a hover platform welded something along its hull, too close to my ship for comfort as the embers rained overhead.

  This place was a deathtrap. I wanted out.

  I walked up the makeshift ramp the cargo gate had formed and finally stepped back into my ship. Being on my ship was like coming home, and I let out a long breath as the tension slowly escaped my shoulders.

  But I couldn't rest just yet.

  “Close the gate and run a deep scan, Siggy,” I ordered as I opened the lockers by the cargo bay door.

  It was time to see if Fratley left me any presents to find—or if he’d done a little thieving while I was away. It seemed like a petty thing to do, but I wouldn’t put it past him.

  “Initiating scan,” responded Sigmond as the doors closed behind me. “Is there anything in particular I'm looking for, sir?”

  “Something they could have gotten past you. I want to know if anything was left behind,” I answered as I rummaged through the weapons I’d stored in the lockers by the gate. “Scan every centimeter of this place for new tech, including the hidden compartment in the cargo bay. You got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I looked through each and every locker, certain I’d find something out of place, but each one was exactly as I’d left it. There wasn’t so much as a box of ammo missing. Even Hunter Carson’s sniper rifle was still there, and if a stranger on my ship was going to steal anything, it would’ve been a fine piece of weaponry like that.

  As I closed the last locker door, the cargo bay gate finally sealed shut behind me. I frowned and balled my hand into a fist, confused.

  Everything was accounted for—on a planet famous for its illegal activity, and all while Fratley had been on my ship without me.

  I was grateful, sure. Weapons were expensive as hell, and I still had my full ammunitions collection, but the lack of anything missing only left me unsettled.

  It just didn’t make sense.

  While the scan was running, I jogged through my ship and took a careful inventory of everything I passed. Sofa, chairs, tables, all intact and in their rightful places. I found my whiskey, surprised to see it looked untouched.

  “Huh,” I muttered, still a bit surprised—and increasingly suspicious.

  I rummaged through the other cabinets, but no food or utensils had been taken. Nothing had so much as been moved. The strangers on my ship hadn’t touched a thing, even with it all out in the open.

  “Siggy, did they try to enter the bedrooms?” I asked as I closed the last cabinet in the kitchen. “I sealed them all up before I left, but I figure Fratley’s men might have tried to override the locks and go shopping.”

  “No, sir,” assured the AI. “I would have notified you immediately.”

  “Good.” I let out a slow breath to steady the growing unease.

  The bedrooms had been locked long before anyone showed up, but the lounge had been fair game and open access. If I’d known Fratley would throw his weight around and force me to leave the Star unattended, I would’ve moved everything into the locked rooms.

  “Is anything amiss, sir?” asked Sigmond.

  “No,” I admitted, perplexed. “Everything’s where I left it.”

  “You seem troubled by the fact.” said the AI. “Isn’t it a good thing for everything to be as you left it, sir?”

  “Yeah,” I said quietly, not sure I believed it.

  Finally alone on my ship again, I sank into the pilot’s chair. The familiar seat molded to my back as I leaned into it, and I closed my eyes briefly with relief.

  It was good to be home.

  “Detailed scan complete,” said Sigmond. “There's nothing amiss, sir. I found no added malware or newly installed hardware beyond the cloak enhancement. Nor do I detect anything transmitting from the ship.”

  “Let's get the hell out of here, Siggy,” I said, grabbing the piloting controls.

  “Initiating takeoff procedure,” responded the AI.

  A place like this didn’t have the same departure protocols as a legitimate hub like Taurus Station, so takeoff was quicker. It was a lone benefit in an ocean of fire hazards.

  The Star’s engines rumbled to life as the docking bay arm raised us toward the takeoff platform high above, out of reach of the sparks and welding guns below.

  That gave me an idea.

  “Run a scan as we leave,” I ordered. “Tell me who’s down there and what they’re working on, if you can.”

  “Initiating,” said the AI. “Any particular search parameters, sir?”

  “Not really,” I admitted. “Something to give me dirt on Fratley would be best.”

  It was a longshot, but in a place like this, there was a chance to stumble across all sorts of illegal activity. I didn’t know if I could find anything that Fratley wouldn’t want me to know, but I could always try.

  The holo blinked to life, and the scene below played out in the hologram. A fleet of mis-matched ships sat beneath me, each of them being ripped apart or shoved back together in random new ways. I couldn’t help but wonder how many of them had belonged to captains who had died on missions, or how many more of them were stolen. There had to be hundreds of stories and long-lost answers sitting in the chop shop below, waiting to be dismantled and forgotten.

  For a second, I imagined the Star down there, getting hacked to pieces. I cringed at the mere thought and shook it from my mind.

  “I located Mr. Oxanos, Captain,” said Sigmond.

  “Show me,” I demanded.

  The holo adjusted, focusing in on a catwalk far below. A man stood alone on a platform with a clear view of the docking bay and everything in it, like a king on a balcony.

  Fratley.

  I paused, watching him in the holo even as I knew he couldn’t see me. He leaned on the railing and stared up at my ship, his fingers dangling over the edge. He seemed relaxed in the anarchy of welding and ripping around him, and he was utterly at home in the clamoring chaos that was Scartros.

  A place like this probably fueled much of his empire. He’d built his fortune on the backs of people who came to places like this, searching for work.

  Even with the zoom, I was too far away to see his expression. I didn't need to. I’d spoken with him enough after his moments of victory that I could safely assume he wore a satisfied smirk.

  I’d finally gotten my cloak, but at a hefty cost.

  One hundred thousand credits. I cringed at the number, and it rattled around in my head like a headache I couldn’t kick. I disliked owing this much money to anyone, but I had no choice.

  It had to be done.

  17

  The windows on the side of the cockpit darkened as I took the Renegade Star into the atmosphere above Scartros. The holo displayed the dark expanse of nothing around me, the black interrupted here and there with the dots of distant stars.

  I eased the Star into orbit, since we didn't need to go far. We still had to pick up the Carson kids, and perhaps I was being paranoid by keeping my connection to them a secret. After all, there was no telling if Fratley already knew and I wouldn’t be surprised if he had figured out Colt Lockwood was on my tail.

  In the end, it was bett
er to play it safe. Even if I was being paranoid, it’d be worth it if it kept me alive. The goal was simple: bide my time and let Fratley think I’d wandered off to my next job while I waited in orbit. Even though we had damn near a half day of waiting to do, I had the perfect thing to keep me busy while I waited.

  “Let's test out our new toy, Siggy,” I said, rubbing my hands together as I scanned the dash in front of me. “How do we turn the cloak on?”

  “The new cloaking device has already been integrated with my systems,” said Sigmond. “I can activate our cloak at any moment. Just give the word.”

  “That easy, huh?” I asked, frowning a little at the idea of a stranger messing with the brain of my ship. “Are you sure they didn’t access anything they weren’t supposed to see?”

  “I carefully monitored the entirety of Mr. Oxanos’s installation process, and everything was done correctly,” assured the AI. “There are currently no issues or errors detected, and I have several failsafe procedures in place should anyone attempt to hack me or my control over the ship. I can assure you all is well, Captain.”

  “Alright, then,” I muttered, unable to bite back my grin any longer. “Activate the cloak.”

  “Activating,” replied Sigmond.

  I leaned forward, near breathless with anticipation. I’d waited years for this. To fly unseen through the black, disappear on a moment’s notice, and have the leg up after so many years of near-misses.

  A Renegade with a cloak was a man who had the keys to ultimate freedom.

  And now it was mine.

  I waited for an alarm. For a disturbance on the holo. For some massive shift in the cockpit’s energy as the cloak took effect.

  Nothing happened.

  A small indicator popped up on the holo, but aside from that, nothing changed. I frowned, still not entirely sure I understood what was supposed to happen.

  “Did it work?” I asked after a moment of silence.

  “It did, sir,” said Sigmond.

  I squinted at the relatively unchanged holo and looked again out the side window to my left. It looked the same as it had moments before. “You sure about that?”

  “Positive, Captain,” promised the AI. “We are currently cloaked and almost entirely undetectable.”

  “Okay,” I said hesitantly. “You said nearly undetectable, which raises flags for me. In what situations can someone see us? What are the limitations here?”

  “There are only a handful of situations where we can be detected in space,” explained Sigmond. “I say ‘almost entirely undetectable’ mostly as a precaution, as Union technology is highly advanced. Additionally, we have no data on where the cloaking device originally came from. That introduces an element of risk.”

  “Noted,” I said, crossing my arms as I sat with what he’d said.

  As Fratley had mentioned, the cloak hadn’t exactly come his way through legal means. He’d probably ripped it from a stolen ship, and there was no telling who had owned it before. Cloaks were rare, and that meant dealing with black market traders and making back alley deals.

  Those kinds of undisclosed sales always came with risk, and I’d known that back when I’d first asked for the cloak. Flying unnoticed was worth that risk. I would just have to play it safe and not get on the Union’s radar. After all, they’d never care about a Renegade from the Deadlands. The Carsons had made it personal by stealing from the Union, but even Colt wasn’t a big enough fish for the Union army to spend money to hunt him down.

  I had nothing to worry about.

  “How do I know it’s working?” I asked as I leaned my elbows on the dash before me and stared at the holo.

  “Activating and disengaging the cloak is instantaneous,” responded Sigmond. “The cloak itself hardly alters the ship, and therefore it won’t have much effect on the interior of the Renegade Star. Aside from the small indicator on the holo, there won’t be any additional markers to signal our cloak.”

  “Alright,” I conceded, a little disappointed.

  I’d expected a little theatre and drama to come along with something that had cost me a hundred thousand creds, and all I’d gotten was a flashing light. It was a letdown I could live with, but a letdown nonetheless.

  “Any limitations I should know about?” I pressed.

  “There are a few,” admitted the AI. “Weapons are inactive while the cloak is online.”

  “What?” I snapped, irritated by this little development. “I can’t shoot anyone while cloaked?”

  “I’m afraid not, sir,” said Sigmond. “In order to activate any weaponry, including the quad cannons, we will first need to drop the cloak.”

  “That's disappointing,” I admitted. I slumped back in my chair and frowned at the holo. “Anything else I should know?”

  “The cloak's mechanisms will render us virtually invisible,” said Sigmond. “Scans and other common indicators will not be able to pick us up. However, if the cloak is activated on any planet's surface, the Star may have an impact on its surroundings. For instance, any exhaust would still cause a gust that could give our position away. The cloak also doesn’t silence the ship, which limits our ability to move unnoticed when not in the vacuum of space.”

  “Makes sense,” I said. “How about—”

  “Incoming vessel,” interrupted Sigmond. “Immediate evasive measures recommended.”

  A warning light flashed on the holo as a ship barreled toward us from the stars, flying at a breakneck speed. It angled towards Scartros, clearly intent on landing somewhere on the planet.

  We were dead in its path, cloaked and utterly invisible.

  Cursing, I grabbed the controls and took us into a nosedive.

  The Star careened around the ship as the cruiser barreled toward the planet, narrowly missing us. I eased back on the controls and engaged the reverse thrusters to slow our movement as the second ship careened toward the planet below, passing far too close for comfort. It heated, flames licking the side of the ship as it entered the atmosphere and descended into the cloud cover below.

  “Godsdamn,” I muttered as the ship disappeared from view on the holo. “That cloak works really well.”

  “That it does,” responded the AI, calm as ever.

  It was a surreal feeling, to have a ship nearly crash into mine. If I hadn’t moved us out of the way, it would have been a nasty end for me.

  This cloak had power, and I sat in silence for a moment to really appreciate the weight it carried.

  “Let’s not take any more risks,” I said as I angled the Star farther away from orbit.

  I took us out into the expanse beyond Scartros to reduce the chances of that happening again. We settled a healthy distance from the planet, and I figured this time we’d have more opportunity for evasive measures if it came to that again.

  For a moment, I stared at the holo and at the planet below us. I thought again of Fratley, of the Carson kids waiting somewhere on the surface, and it finally hit me.

  I had a cloak.

  After years hunting for one—after years of knowing the cloak could give me a much-needed advantage over just about everybody—I finally had one.

  And it worked perfectly.

  I grinned and stood up from my chair as I rolled out my shoulders. It was good to have a victory, to have a win among all of the near-death experiences and bullshit I'd had to go through recently.

  “Hot damn,” I muttered to myself, chuckling like a little kid.

  “What will you do next, sir?” asked Sigmond.

  “Wait for nightfall back on Scartros, and then we go get the kids. I told them midnight. That’s in, what? Ten hours?”

  “Correct,” responded Sigmond.

  “Keep the cloak running. I want to test the strain on the engines and see if there’s a limit to how long it can operate. It's better to run into any hitches here when our lives aren't on the line.”

  “A wise choice,” agreed Sigmond.

  “Yes, it is.” I nodded toward the holo. “
Keep us out of any inbound ships’ flight paths.”

  “What will you do in the meantime?”

  “I'm going to go get some sleep. It might be the last chance I have for a while.”

  18

  I arrived early to the rendezvous point in the desert and put the Star down between two towering native cacti within sight of the meeting place. It sat in the dusty desert, cloaked and quiet, invisible to the naked eye.

  The cloak had only been on my ship for about ten hours and I already wondered how I’d ever done anything without it. I’d spent so many years imagining how much easier life would be with a cloak, and now it felt effortless to use it.

  Worth every shiny credit.

  I lay on my stomach on a flat rock overlooking the rendezvous spot, a pair of night-vision binoculars in my hands as I peered out across the near-black desert. The place I'd picked for them to meet me was a shallow valley in the middle of a mountain range just far enough away from everything that no one would give a shit that we were there. The glow of two nearby cities hummed on the horizon, but not much light leaked out here to the rocks and bramble of the empty desert.

  It was a surprisingly cold night, and the hair on my arms stood on end from the chilly air as I waited. It wasn’t ideal, but I could handle a bit of cold.

  As I peered again through the binoculars, I listened to the desert night. It was quiet, almost peaceful, and I heard the occasional yip of an animal in the distance. The shrubs and tumbleweeds glowed green through the specs as I scanned the ground, expecting company at any moment.

  It might have been overkill to lie in wait for the trio I was supposedly going to team up with. It seemed a little too cautious, even given the stakes I faced. They were more concerned with me double crossing them than the other way around, and they were fairly inexperienced when compared to other threats I’d faced in my life.

  They might have been misguided, grieving kids, but I couldn’t forget where they’d come from. They had contacts only a crime family could wrangle together, and even though they said their father had kept them from “the dark stuff,” as Edwin had put it, that didn’t guarantee they wouldn’t shift gears now that he was gone.