Warrior Queen

by J. N. Chaney

  Elder Laurell Kimble had shuffled in, eyes bright with mischief and completely unharmed.

  Every time someone asked her how she had survived, the old hunter would launch into a story about how she fought off Tiberius and two of his kind with a slingshot she fashioned from the bones of the dead in their lair. Funnily enough, the number of Boneclaws always seemed to increase with each retelling.

  Tiberius himself told me that the killing of an Elder didn’t sit well. Unsure of what to do with Laurell, he had indeed taken her to a cave, though not their lair, and certainly not one filled with corpses.

  To hear his side, Laurell had reprimanded the King of the Boneclaws for falling in with the likes of Mario to begin with. Tiberius had returned her before our meeting, where he had planned to hand her back to us in a show of good faith.

  Prime Elia Doyle still awaited judgement for his actions, though I wasn’t convinced he had worked alone.

  But there had been a silver lining when Josef took his place.

  He had even put the pin on me, a silver design like the Primes wore. A trio of right-facing chevrons, the last of which winged out. It had been crafted from scrap metal and I wore it proudly.

  My father had balked at first to my agreeing to meet Tiberius, which would become a weekly event, but he had been convinced by my story and the other primes. Now, he beamed proudly and presented me to the gathered colony. “This is my daughter,” he said to the world. “The next Director of our people.” His words were met with applause and cheers that filled the hangar, and I felt a swell of pride at the man who had trained me, loved me, and raised me.

  When it was over, the people feasted, and we all played games to celebrate. Children laughed and played chase while adults ate and gossiped, whispering of the Boneclaws and the girl who had spoken to them.

  It was one of those rare days outside, clear skies and calm winds, and someone had opened the hangar door slightly to let in the fresh air. A lone figure stood looking out and I knew it was Nell.

  She’d mostly kept to herself since our return and a number of the community still avoided her. I approached her side, both of us standing in amiable silence.

  For a long time, we stared out at the white valley, the fields of our ancestors.

  Beyond the quiet, however, a storm brewed along the horizon, and I felt a chill in my chest.

  “We’ve entered new territory today,” Nell finally said. “An intelligent Boneclaw leading the rest. There’s no telling where things will go next.”

  “A better place, maybe,” I said.

  “Maybe,” she replied, quiet for a moment before continuing. “But how long can peace really last, I wonder?”

  “As long as it can, I suppose,” I answered, placing my hand around her shoulder. “But that’s a question for tomorrow. In the meantime, what do you say we have ourselves a drink?”

  She smirked. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

  We turned, and I looked up to see another friend. Across the room, Josef locked eyes with me and smiled.

  The future looked bright indeed.

  Epilogue

  Twenty-three years had passed since I became Director, and now I cupped a hand around my heavy, pregnant belly as I leaned against one of the smaller boulders to my side.

  Snow fell gently around me, and I tipped my head back to let the flakes melt on my face. With the power glitches happening even more often, it was a treat to be outside without worrying it would go dark at any moment. Even if one of our wild snowstorms flared up, I had the shuttle to take me home.

  Josef didn’t exactly like the idea of his wife going to meet with the King of the Boneclaws, but he understood the importance of treaties. At least, I hoped he did.

  Tiberius and I still met every year to discuss the affairs of our communities. Many things had changed over the years, but never this.

  The ground rumbled to announce his arrival, and I craned my head to look for him against the white backdrop of the valley. The giant Boneclaw wasn’t hard to spot when he was moving. To this day I had yet to meet one of his kind of a comparable size.

  It seemed to me that his lumbering gait was slower than usual, and I wondered if he had been injured. When he drew near, I stood and gave him a once over with my hands on my hips.

  I raised an eyebrow when he finally came within a few meters. “Why are you walking like that?” I asked.

  He scoffed and waved the question away, reminding me of my father, who had made a habit of doing that since his retirement, particularly at the young ones who caused a ruckus or asked stupid questions.

  “Not you, too,” Tiberius complained. “It’s as if, because I’m showing my age, everyone thinks I am too weak. I assure you, Lucia, I am still myself. I could tear apart six frost horns right now if I wanted to.”

  I chuckled lightly. “I’m sure you could, old man.”

  He returned my laugh with one of his own, and it was so loud I felt it in my chest. “That thing in your belly,” he said, changing the subject. “Othello tells me you are to be a mother soon. Have you decided on a name for the cub?”

  “I have,” I replied. “They tell me it’s a girl.”

  He nodded approvingly. “Then she will be strong, as you are.”

  “I hope she is stronger,” I said, smiling a little. “I’ve chosen the name of a great warrior who once saved my life. She will have much to live up to.”

  “If she is your kin, then I have no doubt about it,” said Tiberius. “So, what is the name?”

  “My daughter will be Karin,” I answered, gracing my stomach with the palm of my hand.

  “A name to give her courage,” said Tiberius, nodding his understanding. “She will be a fine warrior, like her mother, and a great leader, I am sure.”

  “You are too kind,” I said, and in that moment I felt a kick. “Oh, there she goes.”

  “Does she move?” he asked. “Already the spirit wakes to fight. It is a good sign. She will be strong and fierce.”

  I smiled at his words. “You might be right.” I cleared my throat and waddled closer to him, taking a seat on one of the larger stones. “For now, the child will have to wait. You and I have matters to attend to.”

  “That, we do,” he said, shifting where he sat to better face me. “Speak, Director, so that I might hear you.”

  Lucia will return later this year. In the meantime, if you’re new to the Renegade Universe, you can catch up on Lucia’s later adventures by checking out the Renegade Star series, exclusively on Amazon.

  Stay up to date with all of my new releases, news, and all the latest discussions by joining the Facebook group, J.N. Chaney’s Renegade Readers.

  Preview: The Amber Project

  Documents of Historical, Scientific, and Cultural Significance

  Play Audio Transmission File 021

  Recorded April 19, 2157

  CARTWRIGHT: This is Lieutenant Colonel Felix Cartwright. It’s been a week since my last transmission and two months since the day we found the city…the day the world fell apart. If anyone can hear this, please respond.

  If you’re out there, no doubt you know about the gas. You might think you’re all that’s left. But if you’re receiving this, let me assure you, you are not alone. There are people here. Hundreds, in fact, and for now, we’re safe. If you can make it here, you will be, too.

  The city’s a few miles underground, not far from El Rico Air Force Base. That’s where my people came from. As always, the coordinates are attached. If anyone gets this, please respond. Let us know you’re there…that you’re still alive.

  End Audio File

  April 14, 2339

  Maternity District

  MILES BELOW THE SURFACE OF THE EARTH, deep within the walls of the last human city, a little boy named Terry played quietly with his sister in a small two-bedroom apartment.

  Today was his very first birthday. He was turning seven.

  “What’s a birthday?” his sister Janice asked, tugging at his shi
rt. She was only four years old and had recently taken to following her big brother everywhere he went. “What does it mean?”

  Terry smiled, eager to explain. “Mom says when you turn seven, you get a birthday. It means you grow up and get to start school. It’s a pretty big deal.”

  “When will I get a birthday?”

  “You’re only four, so you have to wait.”

  “I wish I was seven,” she said softly, her thin black hair hanging over her eyes. “I want to go with you.”

  He got to his feet and began putting the toy blocks away. They had built a castle together on the floor, but Mother would yell if they left a mess. “I’ll tell you all about it when I get home. I promise, okay?”

  “Okay!” she said cheerily and proceeded to help.

  Right at that moment, the speaker next to the door let out a soft chime, followed by their mother’s voice. “Downstairs, children,” she said. “Hurry up now.”

  Terry took his sister’s hand. “Come on, Jan,” he said.

  She frowned, squeezing his fingers. “Okay.”

  They arrived downstairs, their mother nowhere to be found.

  “She’s in the kitchen,” Janice said, pointing at the farthest wall. “See the light-box?”

  Terry looked at the locator board, although his sister’s name for it worked just as well. It was a map of the entire apartment, with small lights going on and off in different colors, depending on which person was in which room. There’s us, he thought, green for me and blue for Janice, and there’s Mother in red. Terry never understood why they needed something like that because of how small the apartment was, but every family got one, or so Mother had said.

  As he entered the kitchen, his mother stood at the far counter sorting through some data on her pad. “What’s that?” he asked.

  “Something for work,” she said. She tapped the front of the pad and placed it in her bag. “Come on, Terrance, we’ve got to get you ready and out the door. Today’s your first day, after all, and we have to make a good impression.”

  “When will he be back?” asked Janice.

  “Hurry up. Let’s go, Terrance,” she said, ignoring the question. She grabbed his hand and pulled him along. “We have about twenty minutes to get all the way to the education district. Hardly enough time at all.” Her voice was sour. He had noticed it more and more lately, as the weeks went on, ever since a few months ago when that man from the school came to visit. His name was Mr. Huxley, one of the few men who Terry ever had the chance to talk to, and from the way Mother acted—she was so agitated—he must have been important.

  “Terrance.” His mother’s voice pulled him back. “Stop moping and let’s go.”

  Janice ran and hugged him, wrapping her little arms as far around him as she could. “Love you,” she said.

  “Love you too.”

  “Bye,” she said shyly.

  He kissed her forehead and walked to the door, where his mother stood talking with the babysitter, Ms. Cartwright. “I’ll only be a few hours,” Mother said. “If it takes any longer, I’ll message you.”

  “Don’t worry about a thing, Mara,” Ms. Cartwright assured her. “You take all the time you need.”

  Mother turned to him. “There you are,” she said, taking his hand. “Come on, or we’ll be late.”

  As they left the apartment, Mother’s hand tugging him along, Terry tried to imagine what might happen at school today. Would it be like his home lessons? Would he be behind the other children, or was everything new? He enjoyed learning, but there was still a chance the school might be too hard for him. What would he do? Mother had taught him some things, like algebra and English, but who knew how far along the other kids were by now?

  Terry walked quietly down the overcrowded corridors with an empty, troubled head. He hated this part of the district. So many people on the move, brushing against him, like clothes in an overstuffed closet.

  He raised his head, nearly running into a woman and her baby. She had wrapped the child in a green and brown cloth, securing it against her chest. “Excuse me,” he said, but the lady ignored him.

  His mother paused and looked around. “Terrance, what are you doing? I’m over here,” she said, spotting him.

  “Sorry.”

  They waited together for the train, which was running a few minutes behind today.

  “I wish they’d hurry up,” said a nearby lady. She was young, about fifteen years old. “Do you think it’s because of the outbreak?”

  “Of course,” said a much older woman. “Some of the trains are busy carrying contractors to the slums to patch the walls. It slows the others down because now they have to make more stops.”

  “I heard fourteen workers died. Is it true?”

  “You know how the gas is,” she said. “It’s very quick. Thank God for the quarantine barriers.”

  Suddenly, there was a loud smashing sound, followed by three long beeps. It echoed through the platform for a moment, vibrating along the walls until it was gone. Terry flinched, squeezing his mother’s hand.

  “Ouch,” she said. “Terrance, relax.”

  “But the sound,” he said.

  “It’s the contractors over there.” She pointed to the other side of the tracks, far away from them. It took a moment for Terry to spot them, but once he did, it felt obvious. Four of them stood together. Their clothes were orange, with no clear distinction between their shirts and their pants, and on each of their heads was a solid red plastic hat. Three of them were holding tools, huddled against a distant wall. They were reaching inside of it, exchanging tools every once in a while, until eventually the fourth one called them to back away. As they made some room, steam rose from the hole, with a puddle of dark liquid forming at the base. The fourth contractor handled a machine several feet from the others, which had three legs and rose to his chest. He waved the other four to stand near him and pressed the pad on the machine. Together, the contractors watched as the device flashed a series of small bright lights. It only lasted a few seconds. Once it was over, they gathered close to the wall again and resumed their work.

  “What are they doing?” Terry asked.

  His mother looked down at him. “What? Oh, they’re fixing the wall, that’s all.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Probably because there was a shift last night. Remember when the ground shook?”

  Yeah, I remember, he thought. It woke me up. “So they’re fixing it?”

  “Yes, right.” She sighed and looked around. “Where is that damned train?”

  Terry tugged on her hand. “That lady over there said it’s late because of the gas.”

  His mother looked at him. “What did you say?”

  “The lady…the one right there.” He pointed to the younger girl a few feet away. “She said the gas came, so that’s why the trains are slow. It’s because of the slums.” He paused a minute. “No, wait. It’s because they’re going to the slums.”

  His mother stared at the girl, turning back to the tracks and saying nothing.

  “Mother?” he said.

  “Be quiet for a moment, Terrance.”

  Terry wanted to ask her what was wrong, or if he had done anything to upset her, but he knew when to stay silent. So he left it alone like she wanted. Just like a good little boy.

  The sound of the arriving train filled the platform with such horrific noise that it made Terry’s ears hurt. The train, still vibrating as he stepped onboard, felt like it was alive.

  After a short moment, the doors closed. The train was moving.

  Terry didn’t know if the shaking was normal or not. Mother had taken him up to the medical wards on this train once when he was younger, but never again after that. He didn’t remember much about it, except that he liked it. The medical wards were pretty close to where he lived, a few stops before the labs, and several stops before the education district. After that, the train ran through Pepper Plaza, then the food farms and Housing Districts 04 through 07 a
nd finally the outer ring factories and the farms. As Terry stared at the route map on the side of the train wall, memorizing what he could of it, he tried to imagine all the places he could go and the things he might see. What kind of shops did the shopping plaza have, for example, and what was it like to work on the farms? Maybe one day he could go and find out for himself—ride the train all day to see everything there was to see. Boy, wouldn’t that be something?

  “Departure call: 22-10, education district,” erupted the com in its monotone voice. It took only a moment before the train began to slow.

  “That’s us. Come on,” said Mother. She grasped his hand, pulling him through the doors before they were fully opened.

  Almost to the school, Terry thought. He felt warm suddenly. Was he getting nervous? And why now? He’d known about this forever, and it was only hitting him now?

  He kept taking shorter breaths. He wanted to pull away and return home, but Mother’s grasp was tight and firm, and the closer they got to the only major building in the area, the tighter and firmer it became.

  Now that he was there, now that the time had finally come, a dozen questions ran through Terry’s mind. Would the other kids like him? What if he wasn’t as smart as everyone else? Would they make fun of him? He had no idea what to expect.

  Terry swallowed, the lump in his throat nearly choking him.

  An older man stood at the gate of the school’s entrance. He dressed in an outfit that didn’t resemble any of the clothes in Terry’s district or even on the trains. A gray uniform—the color of the pavement, the walls, and the streets—matched his silver hair to the point where it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. “Ah,” he said. “Mara, I see you’ve brought another student. I was wondering when we’d meet the next one. Glad to see you’re still producing. It’s been, what? Five or six years? Something like that, I think.”