Renegade Union: An Intergalactic Space Opera Adventure (Renegade Star Book 9)

by J. N. Chaney

  I touched my forehead, trying to steady myself as I sat up. A swell of pain rushed up from my neck and out through my temples. “Gods,” I whispered, my voice hoarse like I’d been screaming.

  Except I couldn’t remember doing that, not to mention how I’d arrived here.

  Oh, sure, I knew who I was: Captain Jace Hughes, leader of the united people of Earth. I was a Renegade, or I used to be, back before my life went off the rails and I ended up helming an ancient colony ship called Titan. I remembered fighting the Union, the Sarkonians, a rogue Cognitive named Hephaestus, and even a godsdamn Celestial.

  Another thing I couldn’t seem to remember was how I’d come to be in this room. There was a gap and I was struggling to remember anything recent. It was all a haze. Where the hell am I?

  I pushed myself off the floor, but it was too fast. I fell against the wall, light-headed and dizzy. As my shoulder accepted the weight and pressed against the metal, a stab of pain ran through my chest and I winced. Whatever had happened to me, I was a mess. I felt for the revolver at my hip and was relieved that it was still there. However I’d ended up here, the enemy probably didn’t know about it.

  “Siggy,” I said, expecting the Cognitive to answer immediately. “You there? Siggy?”

  No response.

  I touched my ear, searching for the comm device nestled inside. It was still there.

  “Siggy,” I said, trying again as I tapped my ear. “Godsdammit, say something.”

  I waited for an answer, but nothing came. Wherever I was, I’d lost my connection to Sigmond. There was no way that if he could hear me or communicate that he wouldn’t. A hundred scenarios ran through my head as I tried to sort through the implications. If I couldn’t reach Sigmond, it meant he was either too far out of reach for the comm or there was something blocking the signal. But to know which, I’d have to figure out whose vessel I was on and where we were, where Sigmond was, and (if I had the time) maybe how the hell I’d wound up on this ship.

  I blinked, finally taking notice of the room. There were small ceilings, removable tiles on the wall for easy access to the ship’s guts, and a deep metal grate beneath my feet. I knew this design. I knew this—

  Voices came from down the hall, causing me pause. There were two doors to this room, one to the left and one to the right of me. I huddled close to the right side, eying a couple of soldiers as they made their way toward me. A quick study of the rumpled, dark gray and crimson accented uniforms told me they were Sarkonian.

  The pair laughed and talked as they walked. I slid back inside and checked my gun’s cylinder, finding it empty. There was no time to load it. Not before they reached me.

  I scanned the room in a quick second, noticing a table and a few chairs. It wasn’t much, but I’d have to make it work.

  I raised one of the chairs and waited for the two men to pass by the first door.

  “And then she says to him, you’re not my father,” said one of the two guards, letting out a wheeze of amusement.

  The second man whooped and laughed. “No, she didn’t!”

  “I’m telling you, she did,” assured the first.

  “That’s the surest way to a guy’s—”

  I tossed the chair behind them, ducking back inside the room. The noise filled the hall and caused both men to turn around in a panic.

  I rushed to the other doorway and waited until they were facing the chair. They both snapped their rifles up, twitching between the chair and the open door.

  “Who’s there?” yelled the first, edging closer to the entrance to the room.

  I slid into the hallway behind the second man, my gun in my hand. As the first entered, I rushed and slammed the butt of my gun across the side of the second soldier’s neck. He choked from the impact, dazed and confused. Before he could react, I snagged his rifle from his hands, unhooked the strap, and swung it around.

  The second soldier hurried back into the hall, stopping for only a brief second before I shot him three times in the chest. He fired wildly into the air, sweeping his rifle from the floor to the ceiling, scattering his shots. I felt a pinch in my side as he collapsed on the floor.

  The first man was still struggling beneath me, clawing at my legs. I turned back and pressed my knee to his throat, finishing what my revolver had started. He gagged, spit building in his mouth, his eyes growing wide as they bulged from his skull.

  When his breathing had finally stopped, I heard the other soldier moving behind me. I turned to see him scurrying along the grated floor, groaning lightly and trying to move.

  The man wheezed, the sound of blood in his throat as he struggled for air. He clutched his left arm close to his chest and pulled himself along with the other. I took aim at his back, ready to finish the job, but then he slowed.

  A soft moan left his throat, followed by a slow sigh as he stopped altogether, going still and quiet.

  Blood pooled out from his body, all the life in him gone. I gave it a minute, waiting to see if maybe the poor bastard still had more to give, but there was nothing to him now.

  I slid up along the wall and back to my feet but felt a hot burn in my stomach. I’d been shot, I quickly realized, and it hurt like fucking hell.

  My eyes adjusted to the hall as I blinked, and now that I had a good look at it, I could see that this was obviously a Sarkonian vessel. For all their pillaging and territorial expansion, these ships had always looked a wreck. The Sarkonians were the last people I’d expected to find when I opened my eyes, but somehow, I’d ended up on one of their vessels.

  And I couldn’t remember how or why.

  I bent down to the first soldier and searched his pockets. He had a security badge, but nothing else. I reached for his earpiece, but blood covered most of it. I decided to leave it, taking only the badge.

  The second soldier’s comm was clean, thankfully, and I snatched it from his ear. His pockets weren’t quite as empty as the first man’s. He had the same badge, of course, but there was also an unopened ration packet—dried chips and a sleeve of dehydrated cookie with some dipping cream. I pocketed the food, along with a water canteen he carried along his belt. I guessed he’d skipped breakfast and planned on making up for it on duty. I would’ve called that a lucky break for me, but considering the bullet I’d just taken, I found it hard to be thankful for anything right now.

  The burn from the wound in my side caused me to flinch, so I stepped back into the room to give myself a moment. When I was out of the hall, I reached down and lifted my shirt to examine it. Slowly reaching around to my lower back, I felt the exit wound.

  Seemed the bullet had found its way through, which was good. I wouldn’t have to worry about digging it out. I also didn’t seem to be coughing blood, either, which meant it probably hadn’t punctured my lungs. And I didn’t feel full, meaning the bullet had likely missed my stomach, too. All good things, I noted. Just straight through the ribs. If I could find a med-kit, I could patch myself up and I’d be fine, but I’d have to treat it soon.

  I cursed under my breath.

  The bruise from this would be intense, and I’d feel the ache soon if I didn’t find a painkiller.

  “—not sure—”

  I paused at the sound. It had come from the earpiece. I brought it closer and cupped my ear with my hand, trying to listen.

  “—and move the Eternal to the holding cell. We need to ask her some questions,” said the voice. It was a man, probably the captain of this ship. The Sarkonians liked using automated ships, but for longer scouting missions they’d often send a small crew. Six to twelve was standard.

  I glanced down at the two bodies in the hallway. “Two down,” I muttered, tossing the rifle onto their corpses.

  I reached into my coat and drew out a handful of bullets, then I popped them into the revolver’s cylinder one at a time.

  The stranger on the comm had mentioned an Eternal, but I wagered that could mean anyone, even a member of my own crew. Maybe Karin, although I couldn’t r
emember if I’d been on a job with her before arriving here.

  I paused, recalling my personal shield and knowing I’d never dive into an enemy ship without it. Why hadn’t it protected me during the fight? Did I even have it with me?

  I felt around my shoulder, touching the small device as it stuck to my shirt, weightless. It was deactivated, though, and there was no light or voice response to indicate it was working. I tried messing with the little panel on it but to no avail. Served me right for not taking the time to learn this tech when I had the chance. Athena had cautioned me to start studying up on the Earth tech, as had Abby.

  Guess I’d just have to roll with it and do things the old-fashioned way. It wasn’t like I’d never been injured or without a personal shield before. Such was the life of a renegade.

  I sighed, stepping back into the hall, then looked in both directions. It was unkempt, but empty. There were only two doors immediately to the left, followed by a series of airlocks. One of them had the emergency seal activated.

  As I drew closer, something caught the corner of my eye. It was a leg on the floor, inside one of the other two rooms. I turned to see a body, but not a Sarkonian this time. No, this one had a more familiar uniform. It was one of mine.

  More specifically, one of Bolin’s.

  The body wasn’t small enough to be Lex’s and a feeling of dread washed over me as a picture of Abby flashed through my mind. It only took me a few seconds to turn the body over, and I recognized the man immediately. It was Felix, one of Bolin’s squamates.

  I felt my throat close up at the sight of him.

  His eyes were open and motionless, his cheeks cold and tinged blue. He must have come here the same way I had, maybe even on the same ship, but how had he died? It looked like asphyxiation from the popped blood vessels in his eyes, but how could he suffocate here? I was breathing just fine. There weren’t any visible wounds, and the how didn’t matter. He was dead either way.

  I swallowed, knowing I couldn’t linger here for long. The rest of the crew would probably find those bodies in the hall soon, especially if they didn’t report back.

  “I’ll get you out of here,” I told Felix, fully intending to keep my word. That was if I could remember how I’d gotten here in the first place. “And someone is going to godsdamn answer for this.”

  “The Eternal is secure,” said the voice on the comm.

  “Begin the interrogation,” ordered the man I had presumed to be the captain.

  “And if she doesn’t talk, sir?”

  “Use force, but don’t kill her,” said the man. “The Union won’t buy damaged goods.”

  Those bastards had already killed one of my crew, and now they were threatening another.

  Felix’s armor looked to be largely intact, which meant he might still have his med-kit. I hated myself for it but began rustling through his equipment. The pack was there, but the seal had somehow broken. Sure enough, the clot spray had busted, which meant it was no longer viable. Damn. I took a few of the wipes and sterilized the wound, then grabbed one of the bandages and wrapped it around my waist, tightening it to keep the pressure on.

  I groaned as I made the knot then tossed the rest to the floor. It wasn’t the best field dressing I’d ever done, but it would have to do. The bandage was only a temporary fix and would hardly stop the bleed. If I didn’t get this taken care of within the next few hours, I’d have a bigger problem on my hands.

  With one last look at Felix, I squeezed the grip of my weapon and struggled to my feet, wincing at the sharp stab of pain in my side.

  No, I thought, pushing the sensation away. There was no time for distractions. I couldn’t let this wound become a handicap. There was still one of my people about to be interrogated. There could be even more of them on ship being held prisoner for all I knew.

  Resolved to saving the Eternal, whoever it was, and figuring out how the hell this all happened, I turned to survey the room. The cheap bastards barely had any tech, and what tech they did have wasn’t functioning, at least not in here. A quick search yielded a rusty multitool and a penlight, which was better than nothing. Barely.

  Not wanting to waste any more time, I turned back into the corridor and began the long walk toward the brig.

  2

  The ship was different from most of the Sarkonian vessels I’d been on, which admittedly wasn’t very many. Still, I’d made it a point to study them with Sigmond on the longer trips through slipspace. It gave me something to do. Besides, when you were a Renegade and sometimes crossed over into Union and Sarkonian space, it helped to know a thing or two about enemy ship layouts. You never knew when the Sarkonian fleet might show up and declare ownership over a planet in the Deadlands and you’d have to fight your way out while carrying a cargo hold of stolen goods

  Not that I’d ever had to do such a thing.

  Well, maybe just the once.

  In any case, it didn’t take long for me to realize I’d never seen a ship like this before. Its layout was different, almost twisted in comparison to the standard Sarkonian mid-sized vessels. Novas, I think they called them. But this was something else. The brig was usually near the aft section, but this one had the airlocks there instead. Not your usual design, to say the least.

  I decided not to worry about it. So I didn’t know where I was going or who was waiting for me. Fine. Add it to the list.

  Story of my godsdamn life.

  I tried my comm every few minutes as I made my way through the first few corridors, each of them empty. I wagered this section of the ship had fewer crew than the rest, especially since their focus had apparently been on an Eternal. Gods knew I had to do something about that. If the Sarkonians brought back a live Eternal to the Union, we’d have bigger problems on our hands than a single ship.

  “Siggy, you there?” I asked again, hoping for a different result this time.

  Dead silence.

  “Figures,” I muttered, letting out a frustrated sigh.

  “Commander-Weir,” said a voice over the second comm I’d acquired.

  I stopped at the sound of the voice then stepped out of the hall and into a maintenance room. With my finger on the earpiece, I lowered my head to listen.

  “What is it?” returned a voice—the same one I’d heard earlier issuing commands.

  “It’s the Eternal, sir. She’s refusing to speak,” explained the first voice. “We’ve tried non-violent extraction methods, but she hasn’t said a word.”

  “Elaborate, Ensign-Cardona,” said Weir.

  “She has an empty expression, sir. Nothing we say seems to affect her. It’s unusual. I suggest we attempt a less—diplomatic—approach.”

  “Out of the question!” snapped the commander. “I’ve already told you: The Union needs the girl intact. You’ll have to keep trying to get her to talk through some other method.”

  “But sir, psychological extraction can take days,” explained the ensign.

  “Then you’d better get started,” said the commander. “Command expects results. If they don’t get them, I’d hate to think what might become of you.”

  “Y-yes, sir,” said the ensign.

  The communicator clicked off, leaving me in silence. Who the hell did they have on this ship? More importantly, what sort of information were they hoping to extract? The location of Earth? Our military strength? Hardly anyone knew the whole picture, let alone how many drones we had at our disposal, but that wouldn’t stop a clever person with a keen eye. Gods only knew what a few hours of questions might reveal, even from a normal colonist. After all, everyone had witnessed the Celestial attack. They’d all seen the inside of Titan as well as Verdun.

  Whatever the Sarkonians were after, it reeked of desperation—grasping at what little information they could find, no matter how miniscule or pointless, all so that they could return to their superiors with some sense of accomplishment.

  I had to wonder if they even knew the prize they carried. If this person truly was an Eternal, the
real prize was in her genetics. The ability to heal from nearly any wound would surely be an asset to them, the same as it would be for the Union. If the Sarkonians knew that, they’d probably be more focused on getting her back to their own scientists. I shuddered to think what either might do with the tech.

  Which raised the question: did they even have the right kind of Eternal?

  The people I’d picked up on my way to Earth certainly looked the part—white hair, pale skin, blue eyes—but they didn’t have the same healing abilities as their ancestors. They had the tattoos, though, which gave them the ability to interact with ancient Earth technology. Even without the advanced healing, access to the tattoos would be a problem. The last thing we needed was an army of Union and Sarkonian soldiers helming a fleet of recovered Earth battle ships.

  On the other end of that, the Eternals who had arrived through the slip tunnel at the center of the planet had the ability to heal, but they didn’t have tattoos because we’d yet to give them any. There just hadn’t been enough time. At least, as far as I could remember. I had to admit my memory was pretty spotty right now. Gods only knew what I’d forgotten.

  A flash of green light spread across the wall, catching my eye. It looked like waves dancing in the shadow, like lights reflecting off the water of a nearby pool. I turned around, already suspecting what I was about to find but not knowing completely if it was true.

  The thick window was stained and blurred by carbon buildup—largely due to entering and exiting slipspace. Occasional maintenance would have cleared this up, but the Sarkonians did everything on a budget.

  I pressed my palm against the glass, leaning closer to the window to see what was out there.

  Flashes of lightning along the walls of the slip tunnel arced and danced in familiar beats before me. The emerald lights played in the all-too-familiar chaotic swirls I’d seen so many times, instantly revealing the harsh reality of my situation.

  I was alone.

  No wonder I couldn’t reach anyone on the comm outside of this ship. Sigmond, Abigail, and everyone else were probably a star system or more away by now. Worse still, even if I took control of the ship, I wouldn’t be able to contact them until I came out of slipspace and found my bearings. Gods only knew when the next slip gap point would be. This tunnel might go on for another day, or it could end in an hour. I had no way of knowing. I especially didn’t know how long this vessel had already been traveling through this particular tunnel or how many we’d already gone through to get here.